We came over a rise, and suddenly Prince Julian spurred his horse into a trot. I knew then that he had seen the place where the knight lay. And indeed, moments later I saw it, too—a little hut so small and ill favored that you would not even think to call it a cottage. Shelter from wind and rain was all it could provide—and precious little of that, as it had no door, and the walls were cracked, and the thatched roof had a great gaping hole in it.
Near the entrance stood a ragged child of about eight or nine years of age. He was wild-eyed with fear but seemed powerless to move from the spot, so transfixed was he by the sight of such a crowd of people, and the prince, and his knights, all so splendidly arrayed. Nor could he speak with enough force so that anyone could hear him. But he indicated with whispers and gestures that someone else—a father or a grandfather, perhaps—also lived there, but that he was away, most likely looking after the sheep. When asked if a wounded knight lay within, he merely pointed at the door. Finally, when the prince dismounted and made toward the entrance of the hut, the child found his feet and his voice, and fled wailing into the small copse of trees nearby, from whence he did not return.
Before Julian went inside, he turned and looked for me—I stood close behind him—and he took my hand and squeezed it. I felt his fear and hope and excitement all joined together in that touch. Then he let go of my hand and bent his head and ducked through the little opening, into the shadowy space within.
The only light in the room came from the door—now well blocked by those of us who peered through it—and from the smoke hole above. But the angle of the sun was such that a beam of light came through the roof and shone directly upon the figure that lay at Julian’s feet. And I saw it then—the fiery nimbus I had heard spoken of, radiating from the head of the sleeping knight, like a magical helmet of flame. Julian knelt before the knight and spoke softly to him.
I watched intently, and in time my eyes adjusted to the dark so that I was better able to see. And Father—how I blinked in astonishment, hardly believing the evidence of my own eyes! And how I gaped in amazement, for I realized that all I had seen before had been an illusion! The knight’s head was not framed by a halo of fire, but a tangle of reddish gold hair, lit bright by the sun. And he wore no armor—only a soiled tunic of a buff color, and torn hose.
Julian bent over and laid his head upon the pallet beside the figure. I saw his body shake, as from a convulsive sob, and I feared we had arrived too late. But then the knight turned his head and—I could not catch my breath, such was the shock of it. For, Father, it was not a knight at all, or even a man. It was Isabel!
She opened her eyes and touched Julian’s hair. He lifted his head and gazed at her, unspeaking.
“Julian!” she said. “On your knees, yet again?”
“Oh, Bella!” he said, almost laughing, but for the tears.
“I fell off my horse. Was that not clumsy of me? I fear I broke my leg—and took a few arrows in my shoulder, too. But I’m better now.” She looked toward the door, then, and saw me, and all the others crowding around the small entrance. “Is that Alice?” she asked drowsily, squinting in my direction. “There are such a lot of people, Julian!”
“Yes,” he said.
“The battle must be over,” she said, “or else you would not be here. What happened?”
“You happened, Bella. You saved us.”
He kissed her, then, and I looked away, for it seemed not right to stare. It was then that I saw, leaning against the wall of the hut, a stout branch with a torn strip of ivory brocade tied to one end. Of course! The banner of peace!
It had been a miracle after all: A young woman dressed in shabby boy’s clothes had become a great knight in white armor. Golden hair became a wreath of flame. A branch and a fragment torn from a gown were transformed into a noble banner. Everyone saw what God wished him to see. Only the courage and the danger were real—and they had all been hers.
“Bella,” Julian said. “Can you rise from your bed?”
“I have been considering it,” she said, “though I do not think I can stand without aid.”
And so he lifted her up in his arms and carried her out into the daylight. We all stepped back to make way for him—except one or two knights who helped him ease her through the narrow door. There was much gasping and whispering among the people when they saw her, for they had expected to see a strapping knight aglow with celestial light, not a girl of sixteen with dirt upon her face and bits of straw in her hair.
The prince helped her balance on her good leg for a moment. It was lovely to see them together thus: Julian so fine in his royal tunic, his crown upon his head, and his arm about my stepsister—who was bandaged and rumpled and beaming like the sun.
“Bella,” he said softly. “Will you kneel? Can you do it?”
“More easily than I can stand,” she said. “Is it my turn to make a pretty speech then, Julian? I most sincerely regret that I did not wait for you, as promised?”
“No, Bella, I only need you to kneel for a moment. Try to stay upright if you can.”
She giggled, and swayed a little, just to tease him. “Like this?” she said.
“Bella,” he said solemnly, “you can just be quiet for a moment, if you will.”
She bit her lip but could not suppress a smile.
“Fold your arms,” he said, and she did so.
Then—oh, Father, this is the very best part!—Julian took his sword from its scabbard and held it aloft for a moment, commanding the crowd’s attention. When all was quiet, he lowered it, flat side down, and touched her lightly upon the shoulder, three times. And in a booming voice, he declaimed: “Isabel, daughter of Martin and Beatrice Smith of the village of Castle Down, in the name of God and of all the saints in heaven, I hereby make thee a knight.”
Now what think you, Father? Was that not a good story?
Will
Mother came to get us at the forge. Father was repairing a broken scythe, and I was working the bellows. We both thought it strange to see her there. She had tasks of her own to attend to and would not normally interrupt us at ours. I wondered if something might have happened to Margaret.
“Martin!” she said, breathing hard. I think she had run all the way. “A page has come, in royal livery. He brought a message from Prince Julian!”
“Is that so?” Father said, pulling the scythe out of the fire, though he had just that minute put it in and it was not nearly hot enough yet to work upon the anvil.
“Yes! He says Julian is on his way here and will arrive soon—and he bid me fetch you home, and Will, too, for he wishes to speak to all of us together!”
Father put down the scythe and took off his leather apron, and I did the same. I could tell he thought the matter as curious as I did. Julian’s visits had ever been private and without any pomp or ceremony. Though we were glad to see him again after so many years, the manner of his summons had made us wary. Perhaps he had some grave matter to announce. Had the king died? Had war broken out again?
As we neared the cottage, I saw that Margaret was waiting in the yard, staring up the road at the great cloud of dust in the distance. Julian was traveling with many men and horses, then.
“Has he called the whole village out?” I asked, still trying to make sense of it—though I saw no sign that our neighbors were leaving their work and waiting for the prince to address them.
“No,” Margaret said. “The boy called us by name—he said for Mother to ‘go and fetch Martin and Will.’ And then he rode back up the road.” I knitted my brows. Margaret shrugged. We waited.
As they drew closer, we saw that Julian had indeed brought many knights with him, and they were all dressed in full armor, their attendants carrying banners. They were very splendid indeed. I wondered if perhaps he was planning a tournament. But if so, what had that to do with us?
Soon they were near enough that I could tell which one was Julian—for he did not have his helmet on—and I broke into a broad grin. He had ever
been such a small boy, and slight. How he had mourned over it, too, saying he wished he could be a big oaf like me! And now here he was, all grown up, taller by two handbreadths at least, with broad shoulders and a nice little beard—the very picture of a manly prince!
I did not know if I ought to wave or call to him, with those other knights about, and so I just stood there and smiled.
Julian reined in his horse and dismounted. While the knights watched, he came forward and embraced us, one by one—saying our names and beaming with joy. It was all so very odd. Only Mother kept her composure.
“My dear Julian,” she said, “how we have missed you! Dare we hope you have come back to live again at Castle Down?”
An old nurse has certain privileges, and Mother knew it.
“Only for a time,” he said. “I have important business here, and then I must return to the palace. My brother, the king, has need of me.”
“We have heard somewhat of that,” Father said.
“Then perhaps you have also heard of the Worthy Knight and the miraculous events that averted a war.”
“All the world knows of it,” Father said.
“Would you like to meet him?” How his smile grew then!
“Meet . . . the Worthy Knight?” said Margaret, her eyes wide.
“The very same.” He gestured to one of his companions, who rode forward a little way and nodded in our direction. I saw that his armor was all white, just as we had heard it was, and upon his surcoat was the image of a plumed helmet ringed with fire. He was small for a knight, but he looked very grand indeed.
“Beatrice, Martin, Will, Margaret—I present to you Sir . . . Isabel!”
Then off came the helmet! And such laughter from the other knights at our astonishment! I was never so confused in all my days!
“She would come and show off her new armor,” Julian said, laughing, “and could not be persuaded to wait even one more day.”
She had to be helped from her horse. Indeed, she could not even walk unaided.
“Child,” Father said, steadying her with his strong arms, “you are injured! What has happened to you—and why are you dressed so? What does this all mean?”
“But Julian has told you, Father—I am a knight!”
“Bella, you are having fun with us!”
“No, Father, not at all! Ask Julian—it was he who knighted me. And isn’t it grand?”
“Julian?” Mother said.
The prince nodded and addressed her with great solemnity.
“I think you will like this story,” he said. “Our little Bella here traveled all the way to Brutanna, to warn me of the attack. When I could not stop the battle, and all seemed lost, the Spirit of God came upon this wee daughter of yours, and caused her to ride like a fiery angel through the lines of soldiers. She brought two armies to their knees. Now what think you of that, dear Beatrice? Was it not worthy of a knighting?”
Mother began to weep and nearly crushed poor Bella in her embrace.
“I just had to come and tell you right away,” Bella said. “The king has not only granted me a title, but lands and a great estate, as well—and I want you to come and live there, and help me manage it.”
“Bella, you look as if you are about to faint dead away,” I said, for indeed she did look very pale. “Margaret, run and fetch her a stool.”
“It is only the excitement,” Bella said as we helped her sit down, “and the long ride.”
By then most of our neighbors had come out of their houses to see what was afoot. Bella waved and smiled at familiar faces. “It is so good to be back,” she said.
“Do you suppose Lady Margaret could act as squire and help Sir Isabel out of her armor?” Julian said. “And do not give me that look, Bella. Your leg is nowhere near healed, and the wounds in your shoulder were treated for weeks with goat dung and sour milk. It is a miracle you are alive. I have indulged you thus far with this grand entrance; you can indulge me by taking off the armor, which weighs more than you do, and then coming back out here for a few moments more—after which I suggest we feed you a good meal and put you to bed.”
“Hear how he orders me about!” Bella said. “And me the greatest lady in the land!”
I lifted her up, then, and carried her into the cottage.
“Blacksmith!” I heard Julian say with a laugh. “I believe he could carry her horse in there, too, if it were needed!” Then to us: “Take your time! We shall wait!”
We all worked at unbuckling her armor, so far as modesty allowed. Then Father and I went back outside while the women dressed her in Mother’s Sunday gown. How small and thin she looked as they helped her back outside and seated her upon the stool.
“Now,” said Julian, taking a deep breath and looking first at Father, then at Mother. “Bella has made her proposal—and I hope you will accept it. Her estate is very large and will require much attention and sound management. She would be very grateful for your help.
“But she also wishes to thank you in this way for your great kindness to her. And truly, you deserve it. You set her upon the right path and taught her all that is good. It is to your credit that she grew up to be the honorable and courageous lady she is—and so you have done the kingdom a service also, and it is fitting that you should share in her good fortune.”
“Oh, won’t you come, please?” said Bella. “Auntie Maud will be there—you remember her—and my old grandfather, also, and my stepsister Alice! Oh, Margaret, you will like her so much, and both of you shall have such splendid dowries! And Will, there will be horses and a park to hunt in, and Mother, there will be cooks and chamber maids to wait upon you—”
“Bella,” Father interrupted her then, “we have no need of such things, nor would we know what to do with them.” In the pause that followed, we looked at one another in silent council. Then, having agreed just as silently, Father spoke for us all: “We know naught of managing estates, Bella—great or small—but we know the land right enough. If you want our help, such as it be, then it is yours. And if the duke will give us leave, we will go with you gladly.”
She tried to rise to her feet, then, so as to embrace us, but she lost her balance and almost fell, her arms waving wildly and a foolish look upon her face. I caught her and set her back upon the stool. She might have become the greatest lady in the land, but she was still the same old Bella.
“Good!” said Julian. “Then it is decided, and I am well pleased. Bella, I think you would do best to keep your seat for now, so as not to break anything else.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” she said, not so very respectfully.
“Now, there remains only one more question to ask, and then we shall take Sir Isabel up to Castle Down, where she can rest.”
Father nodded, waiting.
“Good Martin,” he said, “I speak to you now as Bella’s father—”
“Oh, no, Prince Julian—in truth she is not mine. Perhaps you did not know of it, for you left here before—”
“I know all about Sir Edward of Burning Wood and care nothing for him at all. It is your daughter of whom I would speak. You always called her your little princess. Would you permit me to make her one in earnest?”
Bella gasped, and I forgot myself and laughed out loud at the wonder of it.
“You will consult with her first, of course,” Julian said. “To see if she is willing.”
Father was ever a shy man and not inclined to show much feeling, but a smile crept upon his lips, and he could scarce control it.
“Daughter,” he said, “what think you of this offer?”
“Might I be married here at the village church, among my friends and the people I love?”
“Yes,” said Julian. “I would have it no other way.”
“Might I wear my armor to the wedding?” she asked.
“No,” said Julian.
“He will not allow the armor,” Father said.
“I would like to wear my glass slippers, then—for they were made for a weddin
g and are strong enough to dance in. Only I fear I lost them in the forest.”
“Know you aught of these slippers?” Father asked, turning back to Julian.
“It is most fortunate,” said the prince, “that since you are inclined to leave precious things lying about in the woods, you have me to come along afterward and find them for you. I have your slippers and you shall dance in them.”
Father turned back to Isabel.
“Tell him,” she said, “that I know not how to dance!”
“Tell her,” said Julian, “that once she has recovered, we shall find someone to teach her.”
“Well, then, daughter? If he teaches you to dance—will you have him?”
Bella grinned. “Ought I to consider it for a while, do you think? Keep him guessing?”
“I don’t believe you would fool anybody,” Father said. “You have loved him all your life. Are you willing, Bella?”
“I am,” she said.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to thank my dear friend Molly Kelly for that long “walk on the phone” at the beginning of this project that helped so much in getting it off the ground. I am grateful, too, for the countless hours she and her daughter Suzie spent reading the manuscript and for their wise advice.
Thanks to my daughter Tamara and my son, John, who took time out of their busy lives to read all three hundred pages of their mother’s latest book. Thanks, John, for insisting I add that last chapter. You were right.
And I am especially grateful to my husband, Peter, who read the book at every stage, caught any number of pesky mistakes, and encouraged me so generously along the way.
Editors never get the recognition they deserve. Special thanks to Rosemary Brosnan for her warmth and her insight and for stepping into some very big slippers.
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