Chivalrous

by Dina L. Sleiman

  He wanted to shout, to fight, to draw his sword and dash for the door, but no true noble would do such things. No chivalrous knight would shirk his duty to his dukedom. He had wanted to live in a place where law and the council of many ruled the day. Yet he could not accept their decision as right. It sank into his chest with a hollow ache.

  Somehow he must find a way to help Merry. In the deepest part of him, that conviction still burned.

  As Rosalind and Lady Gwendolyn concluded their daily walk, Edendale rose on either side of them, indeed a jewel of a city. Not that Rosalind had ever visited another, but she knew beauty when she beheld it. She doubted even the famed city of London could match this place. Here on the well-protected streets, two young women could stroll alone at leisure, needing not fear thieves or ruffians.

  Passing through the row of vendors hawking wares from their stalls in the marketplace, Rosalind drank in the wondrous sight of her mistress wearing a soft and relaxed expression for once. The mood was right.

  She must find the courage to seize this moment and approach Gwendolyn with her request before disaster struck. “My lady, you look well today.”

  Gwendolyn drew in a deep whiff of the fresh mountain air. “I never suspected city life would suit me so well, but we are allowed such freedom in this place. A freedom that, sadly, does not reach to Castle Barnes.”

  “But we made our own fun there.”

  Gwendolyn smiled. “We did indeed. But we were always risking trouble as well. This new life with the duchess brings me much joy. And were you there when she mentioned arranging another hunt?”

  “I recall something to that effect.”

  Gwendolyn must have caught the wistful hint in Rosalind’s voice, for she frowned. “Are you happy here, Rosalind?”

  “I love living in the grand castle. But . . . actually, your question brings up a matter about which I have been wishing to speak to you.”

  “Speak plain. Surely we have no need to mince words after all we have been through together.”

  “’Tis just that I have not visited my mother in over a year. And we are so close to my village. Do you suppose I could take a few days off from your service? The castle is full of maids who might attend you. And . . . and . . . I miss her so.”

  Gwendolyn ceased her progress and turned to grip Rosalind’s shoulder. “Of course! You need not list your reasons so carefully. In fact, I apologize. I should have thought of this, although missing one’s mother is admittedly a sensation I am not familiar with.”

  Relief washed over Rosalind. How she needed her mother’s wisdom and insight right now. She could not afford to lose her employment. She recalled that awful year after her father’s death when her siblings had sobbed with hunger. When she herself had been gripped by the gnawing pains. She could never allow that to happen again.

  And time was running out. “Thank you! Thank you so much, Lady Gwendolyn. I shall go quickly, and I promise not to cause you any trouble.”

  “Stop that! Why must you continually draw attention to the gap between our statuses? We are in Edendale, a place where such differences melt away.”

  “Diminish. Not melt away entirely.” Although, had not Rosalind thought the same thing as she played games and did embroidery in the duchess’s own solar? As she danced with knights and conversed with ladies over supper in the evenings?

  But such thoughts always brought her back to Hugh and gave her hope. Far too much hope for her own good. Especially in her present circumstance, which would not be ignored much longer. “But again I thank you for your kindness. I have been near desperate to see my mother. I shall leave this very afternoon, if that is acceptable.”

  “I shall arrange an escort.”

  “Absolutely not. My village is less than an hour from here, and the roads are well traveled. I took the trip many times alone before coming to live with you and always found a traveling companion with ease.” Besides which, Rosalind needed to do this thing by herself.

  Gwendolyn’s features twisted into a look of concern. “I do not like it. Sir Randel is probably free. I know he would not mind taking you.”

  Rosalind laughed. “You are being silly now. Not all of us can be pampered noblewomen.” Although for the first time such a statement caused a stab of pain to her gut. Perhaps this place was not as good for her as it was for Gwendolyn. “I will be fine. I promise.”

  “You must take a sword. And a dagger.” Gwendolyn wagged a finger in Rosalind’s direction. “And a bow!”

  “Yes, Lady Gwendolyn,” Rosalind agreed happily, ever so thankful for this chance. Her mother would know just what to do. She would fix everything. She always did.

  Gwen still did not love the idea, but she supposed Rosalind could defend herself as well as anyone. She turned to continue down the lane toward the castle. “And if I learn that you did not find a traveling companion, I shall throttle you.”

  Rosalind smiled and looped her arm through Gwen’s. “Fair enough. But let us hurry. I must pack.”

  Gwen smiled in return, glad to see Rosalind so bright and cheerful. Though she had not mentioned the issue, realizing that Rosalind would perceive it as criticism, she had been worried about her maid this past week. The vivacious girl had not been herself, lacking her normal energy and glow.

  Perhaps the problem had started longer ago, and Gwen had merely failed to notice due to the tension with her own family and all the trouble she had managed to get into. Now that they spent much of their time in the peaceful company of Duchess Adela, Gwen could not ignore Rosalind’s distress. She had feared Rosalind might be ill or troubled in her spirit.

  But homesickness—that would be easily remedied.

  As they passed through the huge castle archway to the inner bailey, a strange sight caught Gwendolyn’s attention. In the corner near the stables, Sir Allen slumped upon a hay bale with his chin nestled in his fists. She had never seen him melancholy before, had not thought such a mood possible in a man so strong, so capable, so focused upon heavenly matters. Today was full of surprises.

  But then she recalled his meeting with the council over his dear friend Merry. She glanced about for someone who might cheer him, but saw no prospect in sight. Perhaps she should go find the duchess, as wisdom would suggest. But she could not bear to leave him alone like this for so long.

  She nudged Rosalind and inclined her head in Allen’s direction. “I shall catch up with you straightaway.”

  “Poor fellow. I suppose he shan’t be helping Lady Merry after all. Take whatever time you need.”

  As Rosalind headed across the sunny courtyard to the castle, Gwendolyn took hesitant steps toward the shadows that enveloped Sir Allen. Only when she sank down on the hay bale beside him did he even glance her way.

  She had no platitudes to offer him, and knew a direct fellow like Allen would not appreciate them anyway. After a few moments, she simply rested a hand on his taut, muscled back and said, “I am here for you.”

  “Thank you, Gwendolyn. You alone in this place seem to understand me.”

  “I am happy to listen, if you wish to share your troubles.”

  He kicked at the dirt and took a few deep breaths before responding. “I know I should be thankful. I know they offer me honor and privilege I by no means deserve. A part of me loves it. It certainly swells my pride. But somewhere deep inside it does not sit well with me.”

  Gwen understood that feeling all too well, for somewhere deep in her heart it did not sit well with her for Allen to marry the duchess. But she kept her thoughts to herself and merely rubbed his back in gentle circles, offering her support without pointless words.

  “When Merry Ellison taught me to fight, to protect, I knew I had found my purpose in life. But now the council has stripped me of that. I cannot even help the woman who once saved me.”

  She thought long and hard before she voiced her next words. Gwen did not wish to encourage treason, but well she knew that sometimes the authorities in one’s life bullied rather than rulin
g with wisdom and respect.

  Beyond which, she felt such kinship with Merry, who would soon be wed against her will. “Are you certain you cannot help her? Should you not follow your own heart in such a weighty matter?”

  “They refused me outright. This is not like when I rebelled against the evil King John. I cannot defy such a God-fearing council. I must live up to my duty.”

  “I understand your concern about duty. And I admire your willingness to put the good of the dukedom before yourself.” Much as his decisions along that line had caused her pain. “However, this is a different situation. The council is acting foolishly by putting superstition over sound logic, and you have a duty to Merry that precedes your duty to North Britannia. There are two opposing duties, two opposing rights. And I say in such a case you must follow God’s leading in your own heart.”

  Allen shook his head and buried it deeper into his hands. “But is it God’s leading? Or is it my own impulse?”

  “Only you can say for certain. But I have never known you to be impulsive or selfish, and I doubt you would start now.”

  For a moment, Allen stared into the distance. “You are right. I do feel led to assist Timothy. And as you say, I know in my heart this is right.”

  “Excellent!” His sense of peace over the decision drifted toward Gwen and engulfed her as well. “And I shall go with you. I can sneak into DeMontfort’s castle. No one will suspect a woman.”

  “Don’t be silly. You must stay here.”

  Her pulse quickened. “Am I not to follow my own convictions as you shall follow yours? Would you bind me to this place as the council attempted to bind you?”

  “I cannot be responsible for you at a time like this. I shall be in enough trouble as it stands.”

  She leapt to her feet, as her temper flared fully to life. “Who said I was your responsibility? I can take care of myself. Have you not deduced that by now?”

  “’Tis just that I shall be distracted by worrying about your safety if you’re along.”

  “Men! You are all the same.” She stomped her foot and turned her back on him.

  He stood now as well and took her by the shoulders. “I am sorry to disappoint you. But this situation is hard enough for me.”

  Gwen’s heart melted at that. She did understand how difficult it would be for him to defy the council. She turned in his grasp to face him. “I only meant to help.”

  “Thank you.” He rested his forehead briefly against hers, causing her pulse to race for a different reason now.

  He must have experienced the same rush of feelings, for he shoved her roughly away. “Thank you for your wise counsel and for your cooperation,” he said in a more stilted, formal manner. “I must go and prepare.”

  Gwen stood with her hands on her hips as he walked away. She would not trouble him with more arguments, but he had misunderstood entirely if he assumed she would cooperate and sit idly at the castle while Merry Ellison needed rescuing.

  “Adventure awaits,” she whispered to herself and headed to her chambers to prepare for her own journey.

  Chapter 25

  Long after the sun had set, Gwendolyn stalked through the patch of trees surrounding the camp of Allen and his men. She pushed through the underbrush and crept as close as she dared to better assess the situation and their moods.

  The group sat about a crackling fire, teasing and laughing—except for Allen, who stared pensively into the flames. She spied Randel along with several of his cohorts from among the castle guards—trustworthy and skilled knights, all of them.

  After seeing Rosalind off, Gwen had made short work of “sequestering” the necessary supplies for her journey. Along the way, she had stayed a goodly distance from the men, always at least one turn in the trail to their rear. In a moment she would reveal herself and deal with the lectures that she by all means deserved.

  An insect tickled her cheek, and instinct bid her to swat it away.

  One of the guards leapt to his feet and grabbed his sword. “Halt, who goes there?”

  Good for him. She had been surprised to have gotten so far. Lifting her hands over her head, she stepped out of the concealing shadows into the flickers of firelight. “’Tis only I, Lady Gwendolyn Barnes, attendant to Duchess Adela.”

  The man appeared confused. “Have you brought us a message?”

  Randel stood and jogged to her with his typical relaxed grin spread across his face. “Ho, Gwendolyn! Perfect. I do not know why I never thought to bring you along. You are just the person to assist us.”

  But Allen stood as well and shoved Randel aside. Holding up a stern finger to warn the man off, he grumbled, “Stay out of this, Sir Randel. I shall deal with the lady.”

  Thunderclouds seemed to gather over Allen’s normal sunshine expression as he stormed in Gwen’s direction. Randel, not so easily thwarted, followed a few feet behind.

  Allen took Gwen by the arm and pulled her into the thicket. “I thought we had an agreement!”

  Gwen had never seen him angry before. It seemed this idyllic man contained a full gamut of emotions after all.

  Yet his anger lacked the bitter disdain of her father’s, and so she pressed on. “I dropped the subject but made no promises.”

  “This is unacceptable! Where does the duchess think you are?”

  Gwendolyn waved away his troublesome question. “Called to Castle Barnes by my mother for a time.”

  He dug his fingers into his forehead and rubbed it in frustration. “I am disappointed in you, Gwendolyn.”

  “Why do you insist I cannot help when you followed this Lady Merry into raids and forays?” Her temper flared to life now, but she did not intend to lose her control and this battle along with it.

  He huffed. “Lady Merry was well-trained, and the circumstances were highly unusual.”

  Randel pushed into the thicket beside them. “Sir Allen, my apologies, but I believe you greatly underestimate Gwendolyn’s abilities. And I shall take personal responsibility for her.”

  Allen swung toward him with a ferocity she had not thought him capable of. “You would answer to the council, to her brute of a father, if any harm came to her?”

  Randel did not so much as flinch. “I would. For I know, and her brothers know, and I dare say even her mother knows that she is every bit as capable of protecting herself as half the fellows we brought along. Beyond which, her gender might stand in our favor if we must sneak into Warner’s castle.”

  “You see.” Gwen batted Allen in the arm. She was growing impatient with his stubbornness. “I said as much.”

  Allen turned back to her and cocked a brow. “You wish to use ‘I said as much’ as your brilliant defense?”

  “Oh, hush! Are you going to let me come or not?”

  He huffed again and kicked at the dirt like a young boy throwing a tantrum. So much for her perfect Allen of Ellsworth, yet she longed to reach out and smooth his furrowed brow nonetheless.

  He pressed his fists into his hips and stood with his feet wide. “You have left me little choice. But if Timothy bids you stay at camp, you will obey, and you will not cause a bit of disturbance. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Abundantly.” Gwen conceded, although she was careful to agree to nothing else.

  Randel winked to her from behind Allen’s back.

  Her old friend knew her well. Come tomorrow, she was not about to miss this one last grand exploit before she wed and resigned herself to a life of wretched needlework and board games.

  Lady Merry Ellison needed her, and she would not let this kinswoman of the heart down.

  “So what now?” asked Sir Randel as they surveyed the valley just outside their prearranged meeting village of Bixby.

  Allen scanned the foliage surrounding them. “Give them a minute. I suspect they will come to us.”

  Gwendolyn sat still and straight upon her horse. She had done nothing along their route that might draw undue attention to herself. Nonetheless Allen’s senses remained highly attun
ed to her every step of the way.

  As she stretched her back in an appealing manner against the strain of their long day’s ride, his awareness of her soared to such a precarious height that he nearly missed the call of the crested lark.

  “Hold!” He held out a hand to silence them all.

  Then it came again. He returned the call.

  A moment later his old cohort Cedric came crashing through the bushes with a comic grin stretched so wide across his slender face that it nearly grazed his overly large ears. “Allen! It really is you. I could hardly recognize you in that fine surcoat.”

  He ran to Allen, and Allen hopped from Thunder to meet Cedric with a manly hug and several thumps on the back. Cedric pulled away and swiped at his eyes. “Stupid dust. Can’t escape it in this dry northern climate.”

  But tears pricked Allen’s eyes as well. “I never dreamed I might see you again so soon.”

  “Come, Timothy is anxious to see you.”

  As Cedric led Allen’s horse by the reins, the rest of the troop, Gwendolyn included, fell into step behind them.

  “So have you had a chance to scout the area?” Allen asked.

  “We have. Lady Merry’s being held in DeMontfort’s small fort of a castle. He looks to have ample soldiers, but they mostly laze about down the hill. We presume he must be preparing for an attack on North Britannia but not expecting a strike upon his own holdings.”

  “Excellent. So stealth will be our best ally.”

  Cedric eyed him and cocked a brow. Together they chanted, “‘Stealth. Anonymity. Restraint. These are our allies. These three we shall never betray,’” then chuckled at the pleasant memory.

  “What is this?” Randel pulled up beside them.

  “So sorry, Randel. I should have introduced you to my friend Cedric, a fellow Ghost of Farthingale Forest.”

  “That mantra you just heard served us well for two years. Until Merry stole that chest of gold headed for the king.” Cedric gestured with his chin. “We’re nearly there.”

  “Goodness, Sir Allen,” Randel said. “Sounds as if you have some stories to share tonight. I shall not suffer you to sit in silence again.”