Heroes Live Forever (Knights in Time)

by Chris Karlsen

  "Stop it!" Elinor hissed the warning under her breath. "Ooh, I'd love to jab you in the ribs right now.”

  With obvious reluctance Guy faced forward and kept walking. "I was just looking."

  "Your expression indicated you were thinking of doing more."

  "Aye, would that I could." His eyes glittered under their long lashes.

  Elinor watched Guy closely as they walked. Neither noticed Basil had lagged behind in front of the butcher's shop.

  The butcher was speaking to a young mother with a baby pram. The attractive woman had the heavy breasts of a nursing mother. Each time she leaned forward and pointed, the butcher's arm brushed her bosom. He moved in concert with her so expertly the brush would be thought accidental. She continued to inspect the selection, unaware he stood so near the material on the front of his trousers touched against her skirt when she bent.

  Basil edged closer to the large window. The butcher eased away from his customer and turned. His searching gaze met head-on with Basil's and he shrank back a step.

  "A coward and a cur, I've killed better men than you."

  The glass partition kept Basil from being heard, still the butcher retreated farther.

  Basil moved up the sidewalk. When he caught up, Elinor and Guy had wandered into a bookstore. They were talking by a display showing the author of a sex therapy book. He lingered in the background as she tried to explain the difference between the conscious and subconscious mind. Guy listened as Elinor expounded on how the insecurities bred in the subconscious could affect conscious behavior. Sometimes, she told Guy, those issues resulted in sexual performance difficulties and required the aid of a therapist.

  Basil slid up beside her. "This should be good," he whispered.

  "What a lot of twaddle." Guy sneered at the author's photo. "He's just a modern-day gypsy." He challenged the theory of paying a stranger to chit-chat about one's tupping troubles. "Tis a fool of a man who gives away hard-earned coin and only gets blather in return. In my time, if a lad had difficulties, we sent him to Hilda. She'd sort him out properly, and not with a load of gibberish." He jabbed the air with his index finger for emphasis.

  "The point of a therapy is to get help without the services of a Hilda,” Elinor said.

  Guy snorted and stalked away.

  Basil joined Elinor as she walked around the other displays. They stopped at a table of new releases. One caught his eye. Opening it, he grimaced as he flipped the pages.

  "The Supernatural Sleuth by Margaret Mellon." Elinor read the title out loud.

  Absorbed in the book, Basil didn't respond. He turned to a particular page and moved his hand so she could see the picture. "Oh, my God, I can't believe your castle is here." Elinor ran her finger down the page to the paragraph discussing Ashenwyck. She picked the book up and read aloud. “Castle Ashenwyck, long rumored to be haunted by ghostly apparitions, was a major disappointment. Although our cameras were there for several days, we saw nothing but the cold, nasty mists of the Fens. In my opinion, Ashenwyck isn't worthy of being on any serious ghost hunter's itinerary."

  “Old bat,” Basil grumbled.

  "So, you refused to deign Mellon with your presence." Elinor laughed softly as she closed the book and put it down.

  "She's a mad old cow,” Basil said, “who irritated the hell out of Guy and me. We stayed long enough to hear her and her fellow invaders speak about us. They called us entities, things that should be speculated upon and examined. Ashenwyck is my home, and we are not things to be analyzed."

  Remembering the experience made him furious all over again. He signaled to Guy and walked away, out of the store.

  ****

  They were back at the car within the hour. The plants and jardinières loaded in the trunk. Coming around to the driver's side, Elinor remembered she wanted to pick up a couple of steaks. "I'll be back in five minutes. I have to run a quick errand up the street. Wait here." She darted off as the knights stayed with the vehicle.

  The overhead bell on the door jingled.

  "Hello, can I help you?"

  Elinor immediately wished she'd worn more make-up. The butcher wasn’t like any butcher her mother went to. Dark blonde hair well trimmed, bright blue eyes, handsome. He directed a totally disarming smile at her. Only men on billboards could smile like that, or so she thought until now. Elinor gave him her order, and tried to act cool.

  He wrapped the meat and walked to another counter, his hand brushing against her as he passed. "Would you be interested in a roast for you and your husband? They're on sale this week."

  "I'm not married, so a roast would go to waste."

  He flashed that smile again, revealing a tiny dimple. "Have you just moved to the village?"

  "Yes, into the manor down the road, near the old castle." She took as long as possible digging for money in her purse.

  He took her money. “I'm Jeremy Barnes, by the way," he said, wiping his hands on his apron before he made change.

  Elinor self-consciously touched a fingertip to the mole by her upper lip. “Thank you, I'm Elinor Hawthorne." She managed to smile in what she hoped was a flirty way. "My friends call me Nora."

  "Nice meeting you, Nora."

  Elinor approached the car lost in thought, wondering if Jeremy would ask her out. Wouldn't it be too perfect if a hunk from the village turned out to be Mr. Right?

  "You were gone a long time, longer than you said you'd be." The accusatory tone shook her out of her musings. The look he trained on her could freeze a lava flow. For a split second she felt a twinge of guilt as though she'd cheated on him. The reaction was too ridiculous to give any credence, so she didn't.

  "Sorry for the wait. The butcher and I were chatting.”

  Basil stared at the packages she hugged to her chest. "The butcher? Is there nowhere else you can purchase meat?"

  "Probably, but why should I? I like this little shop." Elinor canted her head and studied Basil. He looked fierce and grim, and rather scary. "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing, everything's fine.”

  He was lying. However, happy to let the topic go, she casually agreed, “If you say so,” and got into the car.

  Chapter Ten

  Elinor trailered Guardian over the day after workmen finished the split rail fence. He'd been stabled at a nice farm, but the facilities were shared with other boarders. Here, the pasture was lush, green, and all his. It took two weeks for delivery but finally, today, installation of the modular barn began.

  The entire operation proceeded under the scrutiny of the knights, the framework established amidst much clucking and critical comments. Out of the crew’s view, they strutted from corner to corner, their whispers followed by an occasional hand or arm gesture. Fed up with their antics Elinor went back into the house.

  She sat at the kitchen table paying bills while keeping track of the progress. The toes of black boots appeared by the table and into her line of sight as she moved an invoice aside. Elinor took a moment to prepare before looking up. Call it woman’s intuition, but she had a feeling he wasn’t there to compliment the carpenters. Basil stepped closer, hands going to his hips. His normally well shaped mouth tightened into a harsh thin line. No intuition needed. He was in a snit, undoubtedly about the barn.

  "Is something wrong?" she asked, sweet as pie.

  "Elinor, think you those puny pieces of wood and paltry bits of metal are fit to hold a powerful beast?” he asked, casting a menacing glance at the workmen. “For surely, they are not. I understand there'll be no stone, but where is the oak? Where is the proper framework?"

  She shifted in her chair to face him straight on. "Basil, I've seen many stables of similar material. This company puts these structures up all the time. They're more solid than they look, trust me."

  He dropped to one knee, in front of her. His head tipped down just enough so his eyelashes looked like dark caterpillars against his cheek. His inky, blue-black hair fell forward, framing his face. Tempted, her fingers poised, wishing to tou
ch its silkiness. Kneeling, with his head bowed, she imagined this was the position he'd take if he were about to propose. For one moment she lived the fantasy. Rise, Sir Knight, I accept your suit and would be most pleased to marry you.

  Basil's expression softened as he raised his eyes to hers. "What do you think?"

  The question brought her back to the present and the rude intrusion of reality. The fantasy of pretending Basil was proposing was marvelous fun while it lasted. It was also daft.

  He stared at her quizzically. Had Basil guessed? Horrified he might’ve read her thoughts, she tried to sound unruffled. "What do I think about what?"

  He moved his hands up as though to enclose hers, were it possible, and a slight tingle passed over her skin as he did.

  "Elinor, it's our belief these men or their superior have played you false. We'd be most willing to advise them we're fully aware of their perfidy and put the situation to rights."

  The sweetness of the gesture overwhelmed her. She’d love to throw her arms around him and hug him. Here was this splendid, charming man offering to defend and protect her interests. It was so chivalrous and gallant.

  "Basil, trust me when I tell you those lengths of metal and board will do just fine. I don't need oak." She tilted her head coquettishly, a smile meant only for him on her lips. "Truly, Guardian will be okay. Please remember, this building doesn’t have to withstand a siege."

  He stiffened, his proud features taut, but he made no rebuttal. Elinor was afraid he mistook her explanation as a rebuff of his advice, of his experience.

  "Please don't do anything yet. Let's see how it turns out. If it's lacking, you've my blessing to do whatever you think necessary," she said in an effort to mollify him.

  Basil agreed with one curt jerk of his chin and started over to Guy as visions of what sort of justice they'd mete out flashed in her mind. He was the liege lord once. The position gave him carte blanche over local lawbreakers to order flogging, branding, even death.

  "Ah--Basil, you do know you can't run them through, don't you?"

  He stopped, and she waited for him to argue. The moment of debate passed, with a simple "Aye," he moved on.

  Guy leaned against the doorjamb, arms folded over his chest. Basil said something she couldn't hear. From the way Guy's mouth quirked, he didn't approve of her answer either. They felt she was out of her element. These fourteenth century men were happy to mete out justice to someone they suspected of playing her false. Sadly, no one among the twentieth century men she knew would've given the problem a second thought, if at all.

  By mid-afternoon the crew had finished and left. Basil came into the stable as Elinor put the tack away. She continued storing equipment as he scrutinized the interior. His displeasure evident, she was ready for the negative comment she knew he’d make.

  "Would you care to go riding with me, Elinor? I’d be most pleased if you say yes. It is a lovely day."

  The invitation, sounded so formal in his old world accent. It resonated on the ear, rich and warm, the way hot fudge on ice cream tastes.

  Surprised by the invitation, Elinor blinked, mentally switching gears from the prepared response for the criticism she expected. "Yes," she agreed in a cheery voice not used since her teens. "I'd love to."

  She hurried to tack up Guardian, grateful for her diligence keeping his bridle and saddle clean. The immaculate Basil would notice slovenliness. He waited outside by Saladin. Elinor's grip on Guardian's reins tightened as they neared the door. He might freak encountering a ghost horse. She held her breath anticipating the worst from the unpredictable Thoroughbred.

  Guardian's ears pricked forward then swiveled to the side several times as he listened. His neck arched and went rigid before he relaxed, dropping his head with a whinny. If he perceived the presence of Saladin he didn't feel threatened by it. Relieved, Elinor relaxed too and mounted.

  "Where to milady?"

  Elinor gave the woods brief consideration. "How about the castle? I haven't been since I was a child."

  Basil wore a linen surcoat with a leopard rampant embroidered on the front over a short hauberk. Golden spurs etched with an elaborate design were strapped to high boots. His polished cuffed gauntlets held Saladin’s reins with innate surety. The picture of courage and grace, he was a history book’s illustration of the chivalrous knight. The impeccable image the modern aristocracy wants to portray, but falls short.

  Someday when she was too old to recall her name, she’d still remember this. She'd remember living every little girl's dream. Once, a knight in shining armor took me to his castle.

  Elinor sat straighter in the saddle and tried to rise to his level of elegance.

  Chapter Eleven

  They rode across a long, grassy field beyond her property. The once visible path was now overgrown with wildflowers. Basil grinned, watching her. “Such delight you take in the flowers.”

  “They’re lovely. What an amazing shade of purple on that one with the round, plump blossom. I especially like those tiny blue and yellow ones.” Elinor pointed.

  “Over the centuries I’ve ridden here countless times. I never paid them much attention.”

  “I’m sure your mother or her ladies mentioned them.”

  “I don’t recall.” Try as he might, Basil couldn’t remember if they had. He dug deep into his memory to no avail.

  "Tell me about your family. What happened after you were killed?" Elinor asked.

  He hadn’t talked about Grevill in a long time. Until Guy compared him to Theresa’s son, he hadn’t thought about his brother in recent memory.

  Basil rode relaxed with one hand resting on the pommel and one on his thigh, as he had so often in life when on his land.

  "After Poitiers, my brother Grevill inherited everything. He was an excellent liege lord, very perceptive. Neither our heritage nor our villeins suffered as a result of my loss. My brother was always mindful of the needs of the people who served us. It would be hard to find a more caring or generous man."

  "How old was he when you died?"

  "A score and one."

  "As the oldest male, you inherited everything. If you had lived, he would have been a landless knight. Had he already made a name for himself in tournaments and such? He sounds rather mature for twenty-one? Was he at Poitiers, too?"

  "No, he didn't go with the army to France. Grevill was born with a deformed and useless arm. Even so, he trained as hard as any other knight. Being fit in the lists is vastly different than warfare. His gift lay in areas less brutal. He oversaw my interests while I campaigned. It was a relief to me."

  “Did he marry?”

  “Yes.”

  “There’s an Earldom attached to Ashenwyck, yet your family name is not well known to me, from a historical standpoint.”

  “The last of his descendents died fighting for the king during the Civil War.”

  “Cromwell again.”

  Basil nodded. “Dreadful man.”

  They made their way down into the ditch that was the moat. Elinor reined Guardian in at the top of the slope.

  Basil halted next to her and sat quiet for a long time, taking in the ruin. He lifted his hand indicating two places on each side in front of them.

  "This was the barbican. The gates were just beyond. These stones were part of the first curtain wall.” He pointed to a long row of rubble. “A second curtain wall manned by our archers protected the inner bailey. Attackers were forced to fight in a confined space while pinned by bowmen."

  They trotted on into what was the bailey. Elinor walked Guardian around the courtyard's perimeter. "I'm trying to picture how it was, how it must've bustled with activity."

  He showed her where the stable had stood, marking off the dimensions of the impressive structure.

  They returned to the entrance of the old Keep and dismounted. Basil walked Saladin over to a mound bordered by brush and wild trees and tied the reins over a sapling branch.

  "Why did you do that? Tie up a ghost horse?" E
linor tied Guardian to an oak a few feet away.

  He patted Saladin's flank as he walked past. "Old habits die hard I guess. Come let's go up to the parapet." He held out a hand and she laid hers on his, not truly touching as they climbed the rampart’s loose stones.

  Where the stairs narrowed, he let her take the lead, watching as she mounted the old steps. Her hair was done up in what she called a ponytail, secured with a pretty pink ribbon. The tail portion swung in rhythm to the movement of her hips. At one point, midway, she smiled at him over her shoulder. The sunlight gave her cheeks and nose a girlish shine. He smiled back, and for a fleeting moment felt like a lighthearted young man again.

  What weakness of mind took possession of him, Basil couldn't say. He reached out to tug her ponytail then caught himself and dropped his hand to his side.

  On the way, he pointed out the sites of various buildings and general layout of his home. She strained his memory a couple of times with her questions. At the top of the rampart he walked her over to the corner with the best view.

  "You can see forever from here. My house seems so insignificant."

  Basil caught a whiff of the mild scent from her shampoo when Elinor glanced up. It reminded him of the air after a fresh rain and he moved a fraction closer.

  "You needn't point out my pitiful stable, Milord Manneville." She winked at him and with a sweeping arm gesture mimicked a haughty, upper class accent. "Sir Basil, lord of all you survey."

  Another time, another place he'd have taken the wink a step further and kissed her into the next day. "Do you see that outbuilding?" He gestured to a spot a half mile away.

  "Yes."

  "That's where the woods used to start. They were much denser then. Over the years, many of the ancient oaks were chopped down for building and other needs. My family lands stretched well beyond the forest."

  "The river was also much wider and deeper. It was the source for our well and supplied water for the moat. In the spring, at its peak, the flow took the runoff of the moat’s stagnant water downstream."