A Moonlit Knight_A Knights Through Time Romance

by Cynthia Luhrs

  He had a new blacksmith, a giant of a man who told Richard he knew he was going to hell, so he would gladly keep company with the beast.

  In the stables, Richard went to his horse, a great black stallion with a spot of white on his face.

  “Shall we ride?” The horse nickered as Richard saddled him. He preferred to saddle his own mount—treachery in the king’s army had taught him well. The cloak and hood in place, he rode through the gates, only to see a lump cowering in the mud.

  “Please, my lord. Don’t eat me.”

  “By the saints.” Richard scowled at the pile of rags. The boy was puny, with bright red hair.

  Richard dismounted, cursing wholeheartedly. The sound of riders approaching had him reaching for his sword.

  “More offerings to the beast?” Garrick pointed at the boy cowering against the stone wall.

  Grumbling, Richard stomped about for a bit. “You, boy.” The child yelped and crouched down, covering his head with his scrawny arms.

  “Don’t scare the lad.” Garrick hauled the boy up. “Who brought you to Bainford?”

  The boy swallowed a few times before getting the words out. “No one. I walked.”

  “Walked? From where?” Richard frowned.

  “Cornwall,” the boy squeaked.

  Richard gaped at the boy. “Alone?”

  The child nodded. “My da sold me to pay his debts. The man said I was no good to him, and he left me by the sea. Along the way I heard about the b—about Bainford.”

  Garrick grinned at Richard. “And you came to face the beast? Were you not afraid?”

  The boy trembled. “Aye. But I’ve nowhere else to go. Thought I might get a meal before the beast dragged me to hell.” He squinted at Richard. “You don’t look like a beast. My da had burns on his face like you. Got them when my uncle pushed him in the fire.” He looked through the tunnel. “Does the monster wander about during the day?”

  “Cease,” Richard said. “Garrick, see the child to the kitchens. Merry will tell him what he needs do if he wishes to stay at Bainford.”

  * * *

  Chloe ran where the snow had been packed down like some sort of path, and walked or stumbled when it was too deep to run. Back home in Holden Beach, she’d have been curled up at Gram’s, drinking hot chocolate and watching the snow fall on the ocean. They didn’t get much snow, so whenever they did, it was a major event.

  Between the numbness in her feet and the stitch in her side, Chloe knew she couldn’t keep up this pace for much longer. Gritting her teeth, she pressed a hand to her side and slogged onward, hoping the castle would appear soon.

  Sometime later, nature called and she needed to rest. Chloe found a spot in some bushes and took care of business. Leaning against a tree, sucking in deep breaths, she almost missed the noise over the sound of her heart thumping in her ears. She hadn’t seen a road or single car or power line. The reality of the situation kept bouncing around in her head, but she kept pushing it away, not sure if she wanted it to be real or not. After all, some things sounded wonderful in theory, but in reality weren’t so great. Yes, it was the sound of horses.

  “Nutella on toast.” Chloe was tired, sore, and grouchy. Not to mention hungry, since she’d run out of the pub without breakfast. Three men on horses rode into the clearing. Afraid they would spot her, Chloe dropped to her knees and crawled into the brush—not the bushes where she’d done her business, because that would be gross, but a huge clump of thick bushes with a natural or animal-made opening near the bottom. Using her elbows, she wriggled forward on her stomach until she could see through a gap. The clean smell of the forest and the snow cleared out her sinuses. It was starting to get to her that she hadn’t heard any planes or seen the contrails in the sky.

  Thank goodness none of the men looked like that drunk creep from the pub. These men were dressed similarly to the men last night, though maybe a bit nicer—the fabric looked better quality. Something shiny caught her eye. Each of them had a knife or small sword hanging on their hip. Either the whole area was a big “welcome to the past” exhibit or she had done the one thing she’d dreamed about since she was a little girl.

  It was hard not to yell. She felt both excitement at having made it to the past and sorrow. Because if she truly had traveled through time and not just wandered into some kind of playground for history buffs, she might not see her family ever again.

  Chloe chewed on her lip. She hadn’t done anything but fall asleep. Somehow, the stones had sent her back in time. But to when? Based on what she’d seen, maybe the Middle Ages? But that was a lot of years, and some of them terrible. No, don’t get your hopes up yet. Make sure you really did it. The countryside of England could look the same now as hundreds of years ago, so until you know, no getting all giddy.

  As she watched the men, trying to decide whether or not to come out and ask for help, one of them snarled at the other. There was an air of danger about the men, something about their demeanor. She’d been in a bad part of Durham one weekend with friends and they’d passed three guys on the street. No one said anything, but they all crossed the street and went into the first busy café she and her friends could find.

  The men hadn’t done anything; it was more like an aura around them that she and her friends could see, telling them the men were trouble. These men had the same look. They certainly weren’t the chivalrous knights her granda had told her about. No, these guys would rob her, defile her, and slit her throat. Then use her body for a couch and eat their lunch. So she stayed hidden, watching, looking for clues as the day passed.

  Cold and wet, Chloe decided the men were loud enough that they wouldn’t hear her moving in the brush. It was getting late in the day and she wanted to find the castle and ask for shelter before dark. Otherwise, being wet and without proper shoes or gloves, she’d freeze out here in the snow.

  Hopefully she could buy food and a room for the night. Thank you, Granda, for the antique coins—or should she say modern-day coins? Because if she was right, her paper pound notes were now worthless, good only for kindling or toilet paper.

  The sound of horses and voices made her freeze in place, half in and half out of the brush. Two men rode into the clearing and all hell broke loose.

  The juxtaposition between the pretty falling snow and the clanging of swords was surreal. Chloe clapped a hand to her mouth to keep from screaming when one of the men fell to the ground a few inches from her face. Open, unseeing eyes looked through her as the snow turned red beneath him.

  At that moment, Chloe was completely sure of three things:

  1. The man in front of her was dead.

  2. She had indeed traveled through time, and the bloodthirsty, violent stories her granda told her were not embellished.

  3. Time travel was fun in theory but not so much in reality.

  Chloe had always thought it would be so much fun to travel back in time and meet the Merriweather women she’d heard so much about. Have a few laughs, clear up some questions about things she’d always wondered about, and then go home. In her daydreams, she always came back home to her family. What was life without a family to anchor you in the world?

  Since she had no idea how she’d traveled through time or how the stones worked—Granda had told her, but even he wasn’t really sure—Chloe would need every molecule of brainpower to blend in.

  First, she’d find out when she was. Then she would use her money to hire a guide to escort her to Falconburg Castle, because she knew it wasn’t safe for a woman to travel alone. Once she’d arrived, she would ask to see Melinda Merriweather, introduce herself, spend a week or two there, and then go back to the stones and go home.

  Elation to worry and back again in a big circle. Chloe’s emotions were all over the place. Elation because she was here in the past. Somewhere in medieval England. Worry because her mom, Arthur, and her grandparents would be worried they hadn’t heard from her. And when they couldn’t reach her on the phone? Not knowing what had happened to he
r? Would they figure out she’d traveled through time? More likely, they would think she had died just like Lucy Merriweather’s sisters had thought about her before they too traveled through time.

  It wasn’t like Chloe could buy a ticket on a boat and go to America. She was hundreds of years away from everyone she loved. They hadn’t even been born yet. Well, Granda had. He had left the past in 1335. Wouldn’t it be funny if she ran into him? It was imperative she find out the year. Why hadn’t she asked the serving girl? At least Chloe knew it was the second of November. Weird how it was July in her time and winter now.

  Thoughts flitted through her mind like fireflies on a hot summer night at the beach as she stayed still in the snow, wet and shivering. If she somehow managed to find Melinda, just wait until Chloe told her all about her granda. Her gram had told Chloe she’d never told her sister or nieces about Drake. Wouldn’t they be surprised?

  “You there.”

  A hand reached through and snatched Chloe’s hand. With a gasp, she scrabbled backward, striking the man’s hand with her other fist. When he didn’t let go, she grabbed hold of a branch, pulled it back as far as she could, and let it go. It smacked the man in the face. Snow fell on his head, and that was all the time she needed to escape.

  Once again, Chloe found herself running from horrible men through the woods and snow. The men called after her, yelling to each other. The snow muffled the sounds; the crunch of the snow and her breathing was loud in her ears as she willed her legs to move faster.

  They were gaining on her, close enough she could smell onion and body odor. Hoping it would help, Chloe breathed through her mouth and prayed. She burst out of the woods into a clearing. Ahead of her loomed a castle so stark and forbidding that it had to be Bainford, the one the girls told her about.

  Digging deep within, she pushed harder than she ever had, willing her feet to go faster and make it to the castle in time. She only hoped the men inside were nicer than the ones chasing her. If anybody up there was listening, it would also be nice if the beast didn’t kill her on the spot.

  Chapter 11

  Richard spent the day riding. He did not care overmuch for the dark of winter, the lack of sunlight. It made him disagreeable. ’Twas almost time for supper. His horse, wanting his own meal, turned for home when a cat ran in front of them, a small creature struggling in its jaws. Not only was Richard’s hall overrun with children, but now hounds and cats.

  He blamed Maron. One morn she found him in his solar and told him why there needs be cats at Bainford. The villagers would say the devil’s familiars were holding court, but she would not be dissuaded.

  She told him her cat, whom she named Joan, was a warrior of cats and caught mountains of rats and mice.

  The corners of his mouth pulled up, and then he found himself laughing. The child jumped at the noise; ’twas rare Richard laughed. Mostly, he liked to stomp about and bellow.

  In the end, Joan became the castle mouser, and Richard told Garrick that the child would make a great general in the king’s army one day.

  But then there were more cats—kittens, since Joan was with child. The blasted cat had five kittens. He found one of the men carrying one of the wee beasties with him as he walked the battlements.

  The horse snorted, pawing the ground, as a man ran toward Richard, chased by three men.

  The men stopped upon seeing him, crossed themselves, and, he imagined, swore heartily at the loss of their prey.

  As the man drew nigh, Richard urged the horse forward. ’Twas not a man but a woman dressed in strange hose. The woman called out but was too far away for him to make out the words. Almost to her, he saw her fall.

  He reined the horse in and leaned over. “Take my hand, woman.” He reached out as she got to her feet. “Mistress. Come quickly—there may be more men.”

  She took his arm. Richard swung her up behind him and turned his horse to face the men.

  “She is ours. We found her. Give her back,” one of the men shouted.

  Richard looked out from under the ever-present hood. “You dare to face the Beast of Bainford? Come then, let me drag you to hell.” He wielded his sword, the muscles in his arm flexing as he ignored the gasp behind him. The men turned and fled.

  From behind, Richard heard her teeth chattering. “You’re…you’re the beast?”

  “Aye.”

  The woman tried to see around his back, but he held her firm. “Nay, mistress. I would not wish you to fall.”

  He could smell the fear rolling off her. “I ask for sanctuary.” The words were soft in the still air.

  She was a brave lass to ask for shelter, knowing his reputation.

  “Where is your escort?”

  “It’s a really long story, and I’m really cold and tired.”

  The words sounded different when she spoke them, softer, sweet to his ears. She was no noble, nor was she from anywhere he knew. For the first time in a long while, Richard found himself curious. He would see her settled in the chair by the fire and find out what had brought the lass to his gates.

  * * *

  Chloe couldn’t believe her luck. This was the beast she’d heard so much about? On the horse, he looked like a knight straight out of a fairy tale. The only thing missing was the suit of shining armor.

  He was strong enough to swing her up on the horse with one arm and wasn’t even breathing heavily. She’d caught a glimpse of black fabric covering one eye, half of his face hidden by the hood of his cloak. The guy radiated warmth like an electric blanket turned to high, and she pressed against him, trying to get warm. If he would have said one rude thing, she would have said she was trying not to fall off the horse. The guy was solid as the stone walls in front of them.

  It was a real, living, breathing castle. There was a tall wall with arrow slits for defense, and some of the construction looked new, as if large sections of the wall had fallen down and been repaired. They came to a drawbridge that also looked new, the horse’s hooves clattering as the animal sped up, anxious to eat his dinner.

  Her stomach rumbled. There was dark water, almost black, partially frozen, surrounding the castle. Chloe hoped the human waste didn’t end up in there. If it did, everyone would probably get E.coli or something else disgusting. As she was sniffing to see if the water smelled like sewage, a fish jumped out in the middle where the water wasn’t yet frozen, and she laughed at how silly she was acting. Obviously this was a moat used to stock fish for the castle, so it wouldn’t have sewage in it. The garderobe waste would go into barrels that would be emptied somewhere else…if what her granda had told her held true.

  “You find my home amusing?” he rumbled.

  “I wasn’t laughing at your home. It’s fierce and forbidding. I was laughing at the little fish jumping. He looked as cold as I feel.”

  “The moat supplies us with plenty of fish to eat. He is used to the water. But you, mistress, are shivering enough to make me cold. Soon you will be warm.”

  Then the man chuckled, a rusty-sounding noise, like he didn’t laugh much. “I will feed you. I hear how hungry you are—’tis a wonder I can hear over the noise.”

  Had the scary beast just made a joke? “Very funny. But you’re right. I’m starved. I missed breakfast and lunch.” No, Chloe corrected herself—she hated when other people got all judgey, so she’d wait and see before she called him a beast. Right now, he was a lot less scary than the rest of the men she’d encountered so far.

  When they rode under the portcullis and were moving through the long stone tunnel, she heard the change in his breathing, could feel the tension in his body where she had wrapped her arms around him to keep from falling off the horse.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I do not care for small spaces,” he said, stiffening in the saddle.

  “This tunnel is a lot bigger than an elevator. I have a friend who is claustrophobic. Once she got stuck in a crowded elevator for three hours. She refuses to ride in an elevator to this day. Takes the stairs
everywhere.” Sara Beth had been almost catatonic when the fire department had finally rescued her. She didn’t even like riding in small cars, but made an exception for the red MG if the top was down. “On the plus side, she has killer legs from all the stairs.”

  “What is ‘okay’? What is an elevator?”

  Oops. Chloe had to be more careful.

  “Never mind,” she mumbled, thinking about all the things and words she’d have to remove from her vocabulary. You didn’t think about when words came into usage until they were questioned. Try and talk like Granda does sometimes. Kinda old-fashioned and formal should do it.

  “What is your name, mistress?”

  “I’m sorry. I was so busy being thankful you rescued me that I totally— I mean, I must have forgotten to tell you my name. I am Chloe Merriweather.”

  They rode through the grounds, her head on a swivel as she took in the blacksmith, a chapel, a long, low building, stables, and a few other rickety-looking structures. There were what she guessed were servants, going to and fro, and men fighting in an area she knew was called the lists. No one seemed particularly bothered by the snow or the cold.

  “I am Richard. Lord Bainford.”

  So he was the beast. It was almost a bit disappointing. She’d been expecting something more along the lines of Beauty and the Beast than a cranky pirate knight.

  Chapter 12

  If Chloe had had any doubts she’d traveled through time, seeing the clothing the people wore, hearing the way they spoke, watching men fighting with real swords—all of those things together reinforced the truth. The stones had sent her through time. She was in an honest-to-goodness working castle. There wasn’t any visible electricity. Not a single car, motorcycle, boat, airplane, or train. Not even a bicycle. Horses were the only mode of transportation, though she had spotted a few wagons and one carriage. The carriage did not look comfortable the way the big wheels jolted the carriage when they hit ruts in the road.