Once again, however, instead of being given a chance to prove himself with tasks better suited to his skills, he had been sent to escort the baron’s daughter home for the May Day feast and festivities. Despite being secretly curious about Sophia, Beon found he was annoyed by an errand that was yet another way of excluding him. The order had not come from Lord Gall’s mouth, but Beon was sure the Baron had arranged it. Babysitting a child, charming though she may be, was a waste of Beon’s precious time. Not that he minded the idea of being in Sophia’s company.
Remembering her broken form beside her mother’s fresh grave brought a return of the sympathy he’d felt. He’d thought it would be a knightly gesture to comfort her in some way, to honor her grief, as it were, so he had gifted her with one of his carvings. Having witnessed how the seagulls flocked around her at the beach, he’d known at once the bird was for her.
With his thoughts returning to the task at hand, Beon stared at the back of the knight he’d been assigned to travel with and frowned. Not only was this not a good time for his training to be interrupted, the knight he’d been partnered with was one of the cruelest people he’d ever met. The truth be told, Sir Bartley was even meaner than Lord Gall. For the most part, Beon was able to avoid the man because he served as one of Lord Gall’s personal knights, but on this trip, Sir Bartley would be inescapable. And since Beon feared this man was watching for any missteps he might take so he could make things worse for him with Lord Gall, it was one more thing that could delay his advancement.
They made the day’s ride north along the coast and planned to stay at the Barn at Beal just this side of the island on the mainland. They would take the short boat trip to the island before daylight so as to have Sophia back at Bamborough Castle before dark the next day. They’d brought along a small pony for Sophia to ride back.
Staring out across the South Low, the small bay separating him from Holy Island, Beon watched as the setting sun cast a reddish glow on the Priory and surrounding stone structures. The Priory appeared well-worn and whitewashed from weather. Birds flew over top, the sunset catching on their wings.
Beon only allowed himself a moment of reverie before ducking into the inn after Sir Bartley. Noticing that the knight was already nursing a tankard of ale, Beon asked for his own room. He still needed to study, after all, and needed his privacy. Enjoying these rare moments alone, the master of his own charge, Beon savored the hearty stew and drank two tankards of ale while he read about courtly etiquette. He took one more tankard to bed with a candle as he continued to read contentedly, late into the night.
Told to expect her escort before dawn, Sophia was eager to leave and had made sure she was up and ready earlier than required, but she was disappointed when no one appeared to collect her. As the sun peaked its head up over the edge of the ocean, she was beginning to feel restless and annoyed. Her escort had never been late before.
Startled by a sudden ruckus behind her, she turned to see a page wearing the Gall colors of green and gold, tumbling over a stack of baskets by the courtyard entrance. Potatoes rolled in all directions as the page tried to quickly recover his dignity by chasing the tumbling tubers and gathering them back up into one of the baskets.
Sophia was too surprised even to laugh, so she just watched and waited.
As he set the basket down, having missed several potatoes, he shrugged his shoulders and dusted off his hands. When he came to full height, the rising sun cast him in a dewy glow. Intrigued by what she saw, Sophia’s breath caught.
Taking in the fact that he was tall and sturdy, Sophia wondered why she’d first thought he was a page rather than a squire, at the very least. With an earnest brow and a handsome countenance, the squire carried himself with a familiar air of confidence, despite his tumble with the baskets and potatoes. His brown hair was thick and wavy as it rested on his shoulders. The young man looked like Beon, but she wasn’t entirely certain if it really was him. If it was Beon, then he’d grown from a boy to man since last she saw him.
“Beon?” she asked.
Swinging around to face her, he swiped a hand over his sweaty brow and then started walking briskly toward her. As he neared, Sophia immediately knew that it was indeed Beon. “Forgive me, my lady,” he said as he came to bow before her, “but would you be so kind as to direct me to Lady Gall.”
“Beon…it is I…it is Sophia.” A grin captured her mouth. Did he truly not recognize her?
Beon raised his head and studied her features. He blinked a time or two and then his mouth fell slightly agape before he quickly bowed his head again. “I…I overslept, my lady. Forgive me.”
She couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. She had never seen Beon like this before, and was marveling at how much taller he was now, so was she, of course—so, maybe she shouldn’t have been amazed by that. “Sir Beon, did you indulge in more ale than you should have last night?” she found herself asking with a laugh.
He rubbed his eyes as though trying to clear them and remained reluctant to meet her eyes. “I didn’t drink as much as Sir Bartley did, my lady.”
“Sir Bartley is with you?” she asked in dismay, as she was not fond of the man. The knight smiled even less than Father, which was never.
“And you must not call me ‘sir’ as I am not yet a knight.”
“Oh,” she said, unsure of what else to say, detecting the disappointment in his voice.
“And yes,” he went on, “I may have had one tankard too many. Forgive me for being late.”
Sophia just stood there, again unsure of what to say.
“You look…very well, my lady...all grown up,” he said, eyes remaining downcast.
“And you…I hardly recognized you.” Why was he being so bashful? she wondered. “You’re so tall,” she added softly, hoping the small compliment might help.
Beon looked up at her then, and they stared at each other for a moment. Perhaps too long, she thought, when he kicked a stray potato towards the baskets and rubbed a hand over his nape.
“Well, we’d better be on our way if we hope to make it to Bamborough by nightfall,” Beon finally said.
“Will Sir Bartley be joining us?” she asked out of curiosity.
At that, Beon simply shrugged his shoulders.
Sophia was surprised at how happy she was to see Beon. When she had first been sent away, she’d missed her brothers terribly…particularly Marcel, for she hadn’t a chance to know her baby brother Marcus yet. Over the past several years, however, she had enjoyed visiting less and less. Marcel was completely under her father’s charge and had no time for Sophia whatsoever. Marcus was still basically a babe, and while she did savor her time with the boy, who resembled Sophia’s mother greatly, he was always whisked away to play at arms with the older boys. Bamborough didn’t seem to hold any parts of her mother’s soul, save that in Sophia’s own heart.
She missed her mother most of all, but ever since she left the castle, Sophia felt her mother’s spirit had journeyed to Holy Island along with her and had remained close by ever since. This feeling gave Sophia strength and comfort. Much to Sophia’s surprise, life at the convent had been rather blissful. After living in such a tense and war-centric environment at Bamborough, she found comfort in the quiet solitude of the Priory. She basked in the solace of the island and the holy communion of the sisters and brothers who lived there. She went about her chores and her prayers with an open heart and empty of ambitions, feeling her mother’s spirit ever present. She would sit for hours and watch the birds and animals of the island, many of which had become so familiar with Sophia they’d eat right out of her hand.
She had taken charge of the chickens and other fowl within the monastery, as well as the flock of doves and homing pigeons. She was hoping to convince the Prior and Head Sister to allow her a falcon. They felt it was too akin to sport and fancy. However, Sophia was determined to convince them otherwise in time.
“How do you like living on the island?” Beon asked, as they finally got
on the road south and could take a breath. Sophia could tell that Beon was berating himself for being tardy because he rowed across the South Low like a madman. Doing his best to make up for lost time, he had the horses saddled within minutes after arriving at the barn. When they’d finally started their journey, Beon was sweating from his efforts but showed no signs of fatigue.
“I love it, actually,” Sophia replied.
Beon regarded her quickly. “Really? I never imagined you as a nun.”
“No, no…only the rejected girls take the vow.” Sophia laughed. “Although I don’t suppose I’d mind…especially if it meant I could stay on the island forever. It’s so peaceful.”
“What do you mean by ‘rejected?’” Beon asked.
“Well, I’m not the only lady there. Some of us have been rejected by our families—or rather, have relatives who wish to keep the girls’ dowries for themselves—while others are just temporary boarders. For instance, Lady Eva is there for ‘safe keeping’ while her father is at war.”
“Your father isn’t at war.”
“I know. But Mother is gone, and I guess Father...” Not knowing how to finish, Sophia found it was her turn to shrug her shoulders.
“I think it would grow tiresome living with nuns, yes?”
“Mm, not for me. There’s always some chore to be done or some animal that needs feeding. And so many birds of all shapes and sizes, you wouldn’t believe. I can lie and watch them circling above me…I can close my eyes and put myself in their place. Have you ever done that? Imagined yourself flying?”
“I imagine it’s similar to riding a horse at full gallop, yes?”
“Well, perhaps, yes…or in a dream?”
Beon considered this while furrowing his brow. “No, I haven’t.”
“It’s the most amazing feeling.”
Beon shook his head as he smiled at her. “How old are you again? You may look grown up, but you certainly haven’t lost your childish ways.”
“I beg your pardon? I turned fifteen this past March. Are you calling me childish?” she asked.
“No…what I mean is…I just meant—”
“Ah, I see. Still sputtering like a child. And still my father’s errand boy.” As soon as she said it, Sophia regretted her choice of words. She had been stung by Beon’s words and couldn’t control her impulsive counter attack. Beon raised himself up and looked down his nose at her. He was trying to look angry, but she’d seen the flicker of pain in his eyes. Without saying anything more, he huffed and kicked the sides of his horse, taking off into a gallop. After blinking in disbelief, Sophia had no choice but to follow. She grabbed the reins of her pony more tightly and took off after him.
It had been a while since she’d ridden a horse at full tilt but she found it came back to her naturally. She was her father’s daughter after all. As they raced along the south road, the smell of the ocean filling her nose and the wind in her hair, she began to feel a huge grin spread across her face. Sophia felt as if she were flying, just like Beon had said. She felt exhilarated as she dashed down a slight dip in the road. When the path flattened once more, she closed her eyes, let go of the reins and stretched her arms out wide, like wings. It was the most amazing feeling she’d ever felt…true freedom. Tears of joy began to spread from the corners of her eyes and blow back toward her ears from the force of the wind. She laughed out loud.
She opened her eyes, but her smile dropped when she saw that Beon had stopped some distance ahead and was staring back at her with his mouth open. Sophia reached down and grabbed the reins again, bringing the pony to a canter and then a trot. When she reached the spot where Beon stood waiting, Sophia came to a stop.
“You were right! It’s incredible—it truly feels like flying! Just like you said!” Sophia exclaimed.
“Are you mad? You could’ve been killed! I’ve never seen anything so reckless in my life!” Beon said.
“But you said…I assumed you’d done it before…”
“My training doesn’t allow for silly games. Now, I was instructed to have you back by nightfall, and I intend to be a man of my word,” he said, as he turned his horse south again.
“Without Sir Bartley, you mean?”
Beon shrugged his shoulders. “The horses just need to be walked for a bit. They need rest before we can run them again.”
They rode in silence for a while, passing the odd traveler along the road. It was a lovely spring day, and she watched the sun slowly make its descent in the east as she and Beon ran their horses, and then walked them intermittently. Sophia noticed a lone peasant some distance ahead of them on a cart, a mule trudging along in front of it. They had only passed a couple of travelers heading south that day.
She considered Beon as he sat erect in his saddle, looking awfully serious. Still a bit pompous as well, and yet, she found she didn’t mind. For whatever inexplicable reason, she had faith in his abilities as a knight even if he said he wasn’t an official knight yet. She felt safe around him. Perhaps he invoked these feelings because he himself had such faith in his abilities. It didn’t matter what he was doing, he approached the task with absolute faith that he was capable and would excel. She had never met someone so sure about their place in the world and so determined on a path to get there.
Sophia thought of his face as he’d stepped from the ranks of the other pages to pay his respects on the day her mother was buried. She thought of the bird he had carved…or at least the bird she assumed he had carved. She actually didn’t know for sure. The little token had come to be a source of great comfort for her, especially in the beginning. When she first arrived at the convent as a girl, Sophia would speak to the bird as if it were her mother. Often she would talk to it in her bed at night as she cried herself to sleep. As time passed and the sharp pain of loss began to subside, the bird came to symbolize that the spirit of her mother was always close by. Sophia cherished the bird, as she had cherished her dear mother.
Sophia sidled up alongside Beon and said, “I want to properly thank you for your gift.”
Her voice had startled him, and she assumed it was because they hadn’t spoken for several miles.
“Pardon?” he asked, looking at her.
“After my mother’s death, you were the only man…well, man or boy…to offer me any comfort.”
He turned his face back toward the road. “Well, it was only what any proper knight would do. Sir Lyndon agreed.”
“It meant a great deal to me. I thank you, sincerely.”
“You’re welcome, my lady.”
“I still carry it with me. Always, in fact.”
He turned to look at her again. “What?” he asked.
“The bird.”
* * *
Sophia reached into her skirts and produced the wooden creature. She held it out to him in the palm of her hand. He furrowed his brow as a smile of recognition broke out across his face, and he took the bird from her hand.
“My word, I’d forgotten it was a magpie.”
“So you did carve it?”
“Yes, a little hobby of mine,” he said, examining his work.
“Well, it meant a great deal to me…it means a great deal still.”
“This one is extremely rudimentary,” he said disapprovingly, handing it back to her. “I’ve improved much since then.”
“I thank you all the same,” she said.
Sophia thought she could detect a slight smile of satisfaction tugging at his lips. She smiled too as she looked to the west once again to watch the sun make its final dip past the hills. Exhaling, she took in the scenery as they moved along. She loved living at the Priory, but Sophia loved the countryside too. Refocusing on the yellow sunlight, she watched as it blazed through the silhouetted trees like a forest fire, and then extinguished itself.
As night began to surround them, she found herself asking, “How much farther?”
Again, her voice seemed to wake Beon from some deep or intense thought. He looked toward the horizon where
the sun used to be and cursed under his breath. “We’re still about a mile out,” he said. “Come, there’s a bit of light left. We’ll gallop the rest of the way.”
Even at the easy pace they’d been walking the horses, they had gained considerably on the peasant ahead of them. He was clearly visible in the dusky light. Just as they were getting close enough to pass by the unfortunate fellow, the mule that was pulling the peasant’s cart reared onto its hind legs and halted with an ear-splitting squeal. The poor beast looked positively spooked, and the peasant was shouting at the animal to no avail. The mule was fixated on the line of trees to their left and attempting to back up the road toward her and Beon. Sophia wondered what sort of wild animal could have it so frightened.
Suddenly, as quick as a gust of wind, something burst from the tree line in a single bound and collided with the peasant dead on. The beast, along with the peasant now in its clutches, flew to the right side of the road before rolling on the ground and ending in a pounce atop the poor wretch.
The man was shrieking at the top of his lungs, the sound causing a chill to slide up her spine. Sophia reached out to grasp onto Beon’s sleeve, whispering, “That poor man...can’t you help?”
“Shhh, it could hear you,” he answered, speaking so softly she barely heard him.
At Beon’s words, the creature froze and may have looked at them. Since it was really just a big black shape, she couldn’t say for sure, and Sophia thought it would be impossible for anything to have heard them with the man screaming like he was. She ached for the poor soul, but she knew now that Beon had been right in quieting her. Drawing the dark beast their way would be quite dangerous due to its size, and while most knights could have taken it on, it was obvious that Beon wasn’t yet as tall as any of the full-grown knights.
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