Journey to Honor

by Alexa Aston

  “’Tis exactly what your vigil should have accomplished. I believe you will make a fine knight, Kenric Fairfax.”

  “Thank you, Father.”

  The priest excused himself and went about readying the chapel for the morning mass and ceremony. Kenric squatted and rose several times and then shook his feet. He walked a few laps about the chapel to get his blood circulating again.

  Workers from the castle and the surrounding estate began to arrive, followed by the soldiers from the garrison and then the nobility from both the castle and Kenric’s relatives from Shadowfaire. Father Peter signaled for the doors to be closed so that the mass could commence. Kenric followed the ceremony since he read and spoke Latin, but he knew most of those present did not. He doubted even Roland knew what was being said. His twin had not enjoyed their lessons in reading and writing and hadn’t mastered even the simplest of Latin verbs to conjugate.

  Father Peter began to speak again, this time, addressing those in attendance in English so that all might understand his words.

  “My homily usually revolves around the scriptures that have been read. But today is a special day in the life of Kenric Fairfax, squire to Lord Forwin at Longshire Castle.”

  Kenric sensed the eyes of those gathered falling upon him.

  “I speak to you today of what it means to be a knight, for not every man can walk this path. A knight is a man of honor who possesses great combat skills and conducts himself with courage—whether he feels brave or not. Most of all, he values loyalty in himself and in others. A knight is guaranteed a place in heaven due to the loyalty he shows, both to our king and the Church.”

  The priest continued. “A knight adheres to the code of chivalry. He always defends a lady and is charitable to the poor and helpless. He never avoids a dangerous path out of fear and is prompt for any engagement of arms, be it in battle or a tournament.

  “He defends the Church and remains devoted to Her throughout his life. He loves his country and is generous to all he meets. He champions the right and the good against injustice and evil.” Father Peter paused and directed his gaze to Kenric. “And if he breaks his oath in any way? Then he has committed a crime against God and will be eternally damned for doing so.”

  Kenric took in the man of the cloth’s words and knew he would always hold them dear. He would strive to be a man of honor and never stray from his knightly oath.

  Prayers and communion followed the homily. A sense of urgency filled him once the last person accepted the Host.

  “’Tis time to begin the accolade,” Father Peter announced. “Lord Forwin?”

  Forwin rose, along with the captain of the guard and Kenric’s uncle. It surprised him that Doran would participate in the adoubement ceremony, but it pleased him that a member of the Fairfax family would be involved.

  The three men made their way to the front of the chapel. The priest blessed the sword and shield before Doran took possession of them. He motioned for Kenric to join them.

  His uncle conducted the ceremony as those present watched in rapt silence.

  “Kenric Fairfax of Shadowfaire, have you undertaken to accept the accolade of knighthood offered to you?”

  “I have,” he responded.

  “You have been deemed fit for this by your peers and have indicated your willingness to accept this honor. Do you now swear by all that you hold sacred, true, and holy that you will honor and defend the Crown?”

  “I will.”

  “That you will honor, defend, and protect all ladies, and those weaker than yourself?”

  “I will.”

  “That you will only draw your sword for just cause and enshrine in your heart the noble ideals of Chivalry?”

  “I will.”

  “That you will honor and protect our king and the Church?”

  “I will.”

  “And do you swear the oath of allegiance to your liege lord, Forwin of Longshire?”

  “I do.”

  Doran held the sword out to him. Kenric kissed the hilt and dropped to his knees.

  “Then having sworn these solemn oaths,” his uncle said as he struck Kenric with the side of the sword on his shoulder, “once for Honor . . . twice for Duty . . . thrice for Chivalry . . . I dub thee Sir Kenric Fairfax. Arise!”

  He stood while his sword was girded on and new spurs attached to his heels.

  “Accept these spurs, which symbolize your devotion to the high ideals of Chivalry and Justice. Wear them honorably and proudly, and may they never be hacked off in shame or degradation.”

  Pride washed over Kenric as he turned to face his liege lord.

  “I welcome you into my service, Sir Kenric,” Lord Forwin told him. He held out his hand and both men shook.

  Applause erupted throughout the chapel.

  Forwin put a hand on Kenric’s shoulder and turned to face the crowd. “The Order of the Knighthood Ceremony is not complete without a celebration. I bid you all to adjourn to the great hall to break your fast and then accomplish your tasks by the end of the morning. For once the noon hour approaches, we shall feast all day long and into the night. There shall be music and dancing—with plenty of wine and strong ale,” he added.

  “And whether or not Sir Kenric and his fellow knights have a clear head on the morrow, a tournament has been arranged to allow him and the others a chance to demonstrate their knightly skills. So make haste and return to the keep.”

  “My lord?” Father Peter interrupted. “A closing prayer?”

  Forwin nodded. The priest gave a final blessing and mass ended.

  “Go in peace,” he told those assembled.

  Many, especially Kenric’s fellow soldiers, came forward to congratulate him. He accepted their well wishes with a huge smile. All the years of hard work as both page and squire had brought him to this moment. He would forevermore be a knight.

  Finally, only his family remained behind in the chapel. His mother brushed dry lips against his cheek, showing little emotion. His uncle shook his hand. Kenric decided the person he most wanted to make amends with was his brother.

  “Would you care to ride with me after we break our fast?” he asked his twin.

  Roland thought a moment and then agreed.

  They returned to the great hall for a simple meal. Kenric excused himself after they had eaten in order to change his clothes. He arranged to meet Roland in the stables in a quarter hour.

  He arrived first and had both of their horses saddled and led outside the structure. Roland greeted him and they mounted the horses. Kenric led his brother from the bailey and out the gates of Longshire. They rode to the end of the property as he pointed out various things of interest. Roland, however, seemed bored by their conversation.

  “We should water our horses since the day grows warm,” Kenric suggested. He led them into the woods and found the nearby stream often used for this purpose. Both horses lapped greedily at the water.

  Roland collapsed upon a fallen log. He threw out his legs in front of him and braced himself with his hands.

  “So, how is Shadowfaire these days?” Kenric asked. “Do you enjoy being the earl?”

  His brother’s sneer showed his disdain. “Every day is the same, which means that I am usually bored. What I long to do is go to court.”

  “Why?” If he had been born a minute earlier, he would be earl. Kenric thought owning land and a castle would be immensely satisfying, not parading around the royal palace with other fawning courtiers.

  “Who cares about how much wheat is brought in or how many sheep are shorn? Numbers mean nothing to me. Running an estate is not something I wish to occupy my time, much less the rest of my life.”

  Kenric could see how his brother’s disinterest would come into play. His short attention span would not suit the job at hand.

  Roland waved a hand in the air. “Doran likes those details, so I don’t have to fuss with them.” He grinned. “And that means I have plenty of free time.”

  “What do you do wi
th this time? Do you ride? Hunt? Work with the steward to improve the estate?”

  Roland laughed. “I spend some hours in the village each week. A recent and very pretty widow has caught my eye.”

  His gut clenched. He did not like to hear that Doran had control of the estate and that Roland neglected his duties simply to dip his wick into a new widow. His twin had always fancied himself something of a ladies’ man. Fresh anger at how Roland wasted his life brewed within him.

  Kenric took possession of his reins and mounted Firefall, riding off without a word. He supposed Roland would never change. The Earl of Shadowfaire was a man who lived in the moment and shirked responsibility whenever possible. Kenric dug in his newly-won spurs and Firefall raced across the meadow, clearing the wall flawlessly. He had wanted to put things right between him and Roland before his brother’s departure. Instead, bitterness brewed inside him.

  If only he could have been firstborn . . .

  He pushed the thought aside, knowing it wasn’t right to dwell on jealousy. He needed to focus on his new status as a knight and put aside wishful thinking.

  “Kenric! Wait!” Roland called out, riding after him.

  Slowing his horse, Kenric brought it around as his brother drew near. Immediately, he saw Roland did not have control of the animal. It worried Kenric that they approached so fast.

  Before he could spur Firefall on to meet them and slow the renegade horse, he watched as Roland’s mount cleared the stone wall. Roland, already half out of the saddle, fell to the ground as his horse galloped away. Kenric let the beast fly by as he galloped to where his brother had landed.

  Roland lay crumpled on the ground. His arm stuck out at an odd angle and Kenric knew it must be broken. He braced himself for the blame that would be hurled his way.

  Leaping from Firefall and bending low, he helped Roland to his feet. His brother cradled the injured arm as he unleashed a torrent of curses. Kenric let his twin expel his anger before he brought an arm about Roland’s shoulders to steady him.

  His brother shrugged it off and let fly a few more choice words. Looking at him with hatred, Roland said, “It’s your fault, this pain I suffer from. You rode off and left me. What if I had been unable to find my way back to the keep?”

  Kenric lost his temper. “You know where you are, for you spent a few years here at Longshire—that is, before you ran home to Mother’s protection. So what if I left? We are not far from the castle.” He pointed to it over his shoulder. “You can see it from here. Are you truly so helpless that you cannot return on your own?”

  Roland’s eyes widened. “I knew you hated me, Brother. That you have since we fought our way from the womb. I realize you are filled with misery and jealousy simply because I am firstborn and privileged to be called Earl of Shadowfaire. You did everything to undermine me when we were children, but I will have no more of that. I am the earl! You are but a lowly knight and will never amount to anyone of value.” He walked away, holding his arm close against his body to keep from jarring it.

  Kenric paused, giving thought to his brother’s words. He had protected Roland from the time he understood that he was the stronger of the two. Yet at every turn, his brother thwarted him. From the time they could walk, Roland was constantly bragging how he would one day become the earl.

  Mayhap jealousy still lay in Kenric’s heart, though he knew he was free of hatred. More than anything, he felt sorry for Roland, a man who would never be happy, no matter what he did or how much wealth he accumulated. At least Kenric had a purpose in life.

  “Roland. Wait.”

  Kenric took Firefall’s reins and hurried toward Roland. Reaching his twin, he saw hatred burning in Roland’s blue eyes. Ignoring it, Kenric said, “Let me help you onto my horse.”

  “Nay. I want nothing from you. I wish to be gone from here, a place that only holds miserable memories for me. I never fit in here. The other boys laughed and made fun of me. And you led them in their taunts.”

  “I never did such a thing, Roland. I always tried to look out for you, as a brother should.” Kenric kept his voice calm. His anger had died, replaced by pity for the weak man before him.

  “I didn’t wish to attend your ceremony,” Roland continued, his voice dripping with venom. “I thought it a waste of time. As did Mother,” he tossed out. “But Uncle insisted we come. Now look where that has gotten me.”

  Kenric had no answer. He fell into step with Roland, leading Firefall behind him. They walked in silence until they reached the keep. When they entered, Kenric steered Roland into the great hall. He spied his mother and uncle in conversation with Lady Jannet.

  “Call for the healer,” he told them. “My brother has taken a bad spill from his horse.”

  His mother rushed to Roland’s side, fussing over him. Lady Jannet motioned for a servant and requested that the healer come at once to Lord Roland’s bedchamber. The two women, one on each side, led the young earl from the room.

  Doran gave a weary shrug. “Typical.”

  “He blames me, Uncle.”

  The older man snorted. “Of course he does, Kenric. He desires to be you. And I wish you had been Walter’s heir. Roland is weak in body, spirit, and mind. He has no interest in becoming a good lord to the people of Shadowfaire. He would rather rut and gamble with others like him at the royal court. I have half a mind to send him there to do just that.”

  “I have heard that court can be a wild place. ’Twould not do to allow him to go there alone, Uncle. He could land in much trouble.”

  His uncle’s brows shot up. “And if I did? Mayhap, he would drink himself to death. Or lapse into another of his many ailments. Mayhap, he might catch a fever—or be challenged and fight a duel where he would lose his life. That boy should never have been named firstborn. Walter should have looked at the both of you and insisted you had arrived first and would be the future earl. He treated you as if you would be. He was hard on you, but he taught you all you needed to know.”

  Doran clasped Kenric’s shoulder. “My brother knew that one day you would become the earl.” His fingers dug into Kenric. “Be ready. That day may arrive before you know it.”

  Chapter 3

  “You should not be miserable at your own feast,” Doran told him before he stabbed a bite of veal with his dagger and popped it into his mouth.

  Kenric looked about from where he sat at the great table on the dais. He had never partaken of a meal while seated here since it was reserved for the noble family in residence and guests of distinction. He could see all of the great hall from this perch, people dining upon the wild game, fish, vegetables, and fruits from the six courses which had come from the kitchen.

  “Mother refuses to speak to me,” he told his uncle.

  Doran glanced over at his sister-in-law and turned back to Kenric.

  “Juliana often acts like a petulant child. She is as bad as Roland at times—or worse.” His uncle picked up some of the hare and chewed thoughtfully. “And you cannot tell me you miss having Roland present at this banquet. ’Tis your time to shine, my boy. Your father would have been most proud of you today.”

  He looked to the far side of the dais, where his mother sat next to Lady Jannet. The healer had found it necessary to re-break Roland’s arm in order to set it properly. Kenric had listened to his twin’s screams of agony, guilt flooding him as he waited in the corridor. His mother exited the room long enough to scold him as if he were a child before returning to her favorite son’s bedside.

  The healer had appeared after that and told Kenric that Roland would be fine. She had given him something to make him sleep and the Earl of Shadowfaire would not awaken until tomorrow morning. But Kenric knew his brother’s wrath would not have cooled by then.

  He took a drumstick of roasted chicken and ate it, not tasting the bird.

  “You realize nothing you can do or say will ever change Roland’s feelings toward you,” Doran pointed out.

  “I know.” Kenric sighed. “I fear I will ne
ver see Shadowfaire again, for he would never welcome me within its gates. Besides, I am in service now to Lord Forwin. My home is here at Longshire, along with the rest of his knights and soldiers.”

  At that moment, Lord Forwin rose and held out his cup to the assembled crowd. The hall grew quiet.

  “I ask you to raise a cup in honor of Longshire’s newest knight.” The nobleman faced Kenric. “To Sir Kenric. May he have good health, a long life, and much happiness.”

  “Sir Kenric!” the people echoed, toasting him.

  He bowed his head, humbled by their support.

  “’Tis time for music and dancing,” announced Forwin. “Musicians, you may begin,” he commanded.

  Music filled the air as servants began clearing the dishes and men moved the trestle tables back against the walls to make room for the merriment. Kenric watched his mother draw Lord Forwin aside and excuse herself. She left the room without glancing in her son’s direction.

  “Come, Sir Kenric. It’s the round dance.”

  A serving wench took his hand, pulling him down to the floor. Though dancing was condemned by the Church, it remained a favorite pastime in England. Even nuns participated in it from time to time.

  Kenric stepped to the circle forming and joined hands with those gathering. Soon, he was caught up in the lively music as the group executed the complicated footwork as one. He’d always been skilled at swordplay and found dancing to be much the same. His body moved in time with the music as he tapped and spun. The more he danced, the more he enjoyed himself and put his troubles behind him.

  He begged off after finishing four dances in a row in order to grab a tankard of ale. Hudd, his closest friend at Longshire, joined him.

  “So how does it feel to be Sir Kenric?” Hudd teased as he tapped his cup against his friend’s.

  Kenric took a long swig before answering. “The same—other than my seat at the feast. And that place of honor is only for today. Tomorrow, I will join Lord Forwin’s other knights and eat among the soldiers. Still, I appreciate the expense the baron has gone to in order to provide this feast of celebration.”