A Knight to Remember

by Maryse Dawson

  The sound of heavy footsteps in the corridor caught her attention, and she turned to stare at the door, a look of trepidation on her face. Her breathing stilled.

  The door opened inwards and Stephen appeared, his big frame filling the doorway. She stared at him apprehensively as he closed it behind him, her heart beating ten to the dozen.

  He leaned against the door and crossed his arms over his broad chest. "So, milady, yet again, thou hath misbehaved!"

  She quickly stood up for herself. "I haven't! You didn't hear what Marguerite said to me."

  "Didst thou say she was a whore?"

  "No, I didn't, although I wish I had said it now! Bloody trollop!"

  "Cease! If King Edward hears thee, he will punish thee himself! He will hear naught said against her. Watch thy tongue, Jenny!"

  "So you keep saying, but she should watch hers! She started the whole bloody thing by snatching my horse's reins. I just pushed her in self-defence. It wasn't my fault that she fell off! She should've had a better grip."

  "She could hath broken a bone in such a fall," he exclaimed, raising his voice. "Thy actions were careless."

  He moved towards her so quickly that Jenny didn't have time to protest. He grabbed her arm and manoeuvred her towards the bed.

  "Bend over. I will give thee six licks of the strap."

  "W-What?" Jenny stammered. This wasn't as expected. What she'd thought would be a simple spanking over his knee was turning out to be much more.

  Stephen pulled a leather strap from inside his tunic and dangled it in front of her. "The strap, milady! Doth thee recall our previous conversation?"

  Her answer was to try and move away from him, but he quickly pulled her back.

  "Nay, milady. Thou will take this punishment. Now...bend!"

  He turned her around, and she quickly found herself thrust down over the coverlet. A sudden draught against her skin when he raised her dress made her squirm with dread, knowing whatever was about to follow was going to be extremely painful.

  "You should be punishing her, not me!" Her voice was muffled against the covers.

  "The Lady Marguerite is not my responsibility – thou art! I am certain, if she misbehaves, the king will punish her as he sees fit."

  She felt him lay one of his large hands on her back to hold her down and she prepared herself for the pain, clenching her buttocks in anticipation.

  Swish! Slap!

  The quick lick of the strap on her bottom made her yelp with surprise. An intense burning pain followed.

  "Aow!" she squealed, trying to twist away.

  "Desist, else my aim be foul!" he said sharply.

  Swish! Slap!

  "Oh...that hurts!" She kicked her feet as she tried to overcome the stinging sensation, gripping the coverlet with both hands.

  "Good! Then mayhap thee will remember to behave!"

  Swish! Slap! Swish! Slap!

  "Mmf!" Her head was now buried in the coverlet, her eyes tightly closed. She cursed herself silently. Why, oh why, didn't she ignore Marguerite? She must be a glutton for punishment! Marguerite should be getting this – not her!

  Swish! Slap! Swish! Slap!

  "Argh!"

  "There, 'tis finished."

  Jenny's moans quieted as the stinging ebbed away to a dull throb. God, that had hurt! She moved a hand round and tentatively ran her fingers over her bottom. She could feel raised edges where the strap had found its target. His fingers joined hers, running lightly over the bruised surface.

  "I warrant thee will not sit comfortably at supper tonight, milady."

  Jenny rolled over and glared at him. "It should be Marguerite getting this, not me!"

  Stephen leaned over her and placed his hands on the coverlet, one on either side of her head. "Is that so?"

  His eyes were dark with lust and Jenny couldn't help but respond. Her lips parted as she stared back at him. God, she wanted him. She placed her hands on his strong upper arms, marvelling at their thickness – arms that could easily knock a man down or just as easily administer a sound spanking to a naughty bottom.

  His lips descended and all thoughts went out of her head when his tongue entwined with her own. She could feel his hard shaft pressing into her thigh through his hose. Lord, how she wanted him inside her. He broke the kiss and stared into her eyes. She was breathing heavily, her chest heaving with excitement.

  "Thou hath bewitched me, Jenny Peverel." He ran a finger lightly over her bottom lip.

  She sucked in a breath, her body responding to his caress. His thumb stroked her cheek.

  "Thy lips entice me, thy eyes seduce me. Art thou a sorceress?"

  She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak and break the moment.

  "Methinks 'tis time to join the others afore I do something I wouldst regret!"

  "I wouldn't regret it!" Jenny blurted out.

  He stared at her oddly. "What of thy virtue, Jenny?"

  Oh, fuck. She forgot about that! "Oh, one more kiss won't harm, surely?"

  "I meant more than just a kiss, but thy innocence doth thee justice, milady. Come." As he stood up, he pulled her with him. Her skirts fell back into place, covering her bruised backside, which had now subsided to a dull ache. The strap was still lying on the bed and she couldn't stop the scowl that appeared on her face as she looked at it.

  Stephen gave a wry smile and picked it up. He ran his hand the length of the leather, almost lovingly before replacing it back inside his surcoat. "Fear not its disappearance, sweet damsel, this will ne'er be far from my side."

  "Can't you burn it?" she asked hopefully, crossing her arms.

  "Nay, milady, for methinks it will be a mighty deterrent if thee chooses to misbehave."

  He opened the chamber door and bowed. "After thee, milady."

  With a sigh, Jenny left the room and headed for the Great Hall. Her bottom ached with every step, but she would be blowed if she'd let Marguerite know what had happened!

  However, upon entering the hall, she knew just by looking at Marguerite's face that she had already found out. Her smug look confirmed it.

  Jenny headed for the high table, hoping to avoid her, but Marguerite was already making a beeline for her. Gritting her teeth, Jenny held her head high and reached for a goblet, choosing to stand rather than sit. She waited whilst a serf filled it with wine.

  "Wouldst thou not take a seat?" asked Marguerite, a knowing smile on her face.

  "Not at the moment, no," retorted Jenny, taking a mouthful of wine. It was strong; just what she needed. Perhaps it would numb her senses – mentally and physically.

  "'Twould seem Sir Stephen believed my tale, from what my maid hath told me." Marguerite almost purred with satisfaction, blatantly gloating over Jenny's discomfort.

  "You shouldn't believe gossip, Marguerite. Your maid knows nothing."

  "Oh, methinks she doth. Alice would never speak false, especially not to me." She leaned closer and sneered. "Thou received a spanking, and I would warrant Sir Stephen regards thee as a troublesome wench. Thy time at Okehampton Castle is limited."

  Jenny took another draught of wine and glared at Marguerite, her temper giving way yet again. "You know, you have a really big mouth on you. You're way too opinionated, and you're downright devious. You may look pretty on the outside but let me tell you..." she paused to prod her finger in Marguerite's chest.

  "You're an ugly, fucking troll on the inside! Whatever man finally gets lumbered with you will regret it for the rest of his life!"

  Marguerite's jaw was practically touching the ground. "How dare thee speak to me in such a manner!"

  "Oh, I dare, Marguerite! Now, piss off and leave me alone!" Such was the venom in her tone that Marguerite did just that.

  For once, Jenny had the better of her. Exhausted, she found a chair and sat down gingerly. She didn't care if Marguerite went bleating to the king. She'd had enough! How long was the odious woman going to be here? she thought forlornly. How much more could she endure?

&
nbsp; * * *

  That evening...

  Jenny watched Stephen whilst he sat with King Edward in front of the main fireplace. He was clearly amused by something the king was telling him. His head fell back and he emitted a hearty laugh that was soon joined by the king's. Jenny couldn't help but smile at the pair of them.

  "Sir Stephen doth admire the king so." She turned sharply to find Marguerite at her side, a sly look upon her face. "He is verily handsome, is he not?"

  Jenny knew exactly whom she was referring to, but chose to be obtuse. "Yes, I agree. King Edward is very handsome."

  "I meant Sir Stephen!" her voice shrilled.

  "Oh! Yes, I suppose he is."

  "Thy charms do not work on him. He was ever mine. Thou wouldst do well to remember that!"

  "Really? Has he asked you to marry him, then?"

  "Nay! But he will, I knowest it."

  Jenny couldn't help but sneer. "You know nothing. Believe me!"

  Marguerite looked at her sharply. "What dost thou mean? Explain thyself?"

  Jenny turned to leave but Marguerite's hand shot out and clutched her arm. "Tell me!" she ordered.

  "No! You cannot order me about like you do your poor servants, Marguerite! Let go of my arm!"

  "Not afore thou explaineth thyself or I shall tell the king I overheard thee speak treason!"

  Jenny couldn't help her jaw from dropping. "You would go that far?"

  Marguerite narrowed her eyes and hissed. "Aye, and more. Sir Stephen will be mine!"

  It was clear that Marguerite was infatuated with him. Jenny wondered if Stephen knew how much, though. He would have to be blind not to notice her obvious admiration for him, but it went deeper than that. Marguerite had a serious case of obsession.

  Jenny weighed up her situation. If she told Marguerite to sling her hook in earshot of the king, then she could find herself in serious trouble. As much as she yearned to go home and hadn't asked to be here, she also didn't fancy the idea of being flung in some rat-infested dungeon or worse. On the other hand, it was none of Marguerite's business what she and Stephen had discussed. Rolling her eyes, she decided to come clean.

  "Sir Stephen won't be yours...he's already declared himself to me."

  "Thou speak words of falsehood!" spat Marguerite, her eyes narrowing to mere slits.

  Jenny shook her head. "No, I don't. It's the truth. I haven't given him my answer yet...but I will."

  "Thou willst not marry him!"

  "I might!"

  "Nay...never."

  "My ladies, I dislike to intrude, but the king requests thy presence." They suddenly found Stephen at their side. He looked from one face to the other, immediately sensing an air of disagreement. "Is something amiss?"

  "No, milord, we were discussing fabrics, 'tis all," Marguerite lied smoothly. She quickly slipped her arm through his and moved in front of Jenny, barring her way.

  Jenny immediately bristled. Did this woman stop at nothing?

  Sighing heavily, she traipsed after them and took a seat at the hearth near King Edward. He smiled when she joined him. They spent the rest of the evening listening to his stories of the battlefield and life at court. Even though he was entertaining and his tales fascinating, Jenny couldn't help her mind wandering to wish that someone would arrive to cart Marguerite off. How peaceful life would be without her.

  * * *

  The next morning, Jenny awoke bright and early. The night before, she had lain awake for ages trying to think of some way of keeping Marguerite away from her side. The woman was driving her mad with her constant scheming to get close to Stephen.

  She sighed contentedly, picturing his face. Every time he was near, her heart skipped a beat. He was all muscle, and several times she'd found herself wondering how he would feel, skin against skin.

  She shivered, imagining his touch, remembering his hard lips grinding into her own. Oh, boy. She'd be as smitten as Marguerite if she wasn't careful. She chuckled to herself and threw the covers aside, sliding her legs off the side of the bed. She had a plan to put into action and the earlier, the better!

  Once dressed, she silently slipped from her chamber and made her way to the infirmary. She knew where it was located as she'd been there once before, with a headache. The castle physician, Avrick, had mixed a weird potion up and even though it had tasted awful, it had actually worked. Whilst he'd been making the concoction, Jenny had had time to look around.

  That was what she'd remembered last night – the potion books. If she could somehow get one mixed together that would keep Marguerite confined to her chambers, then her life would be so much easier. All she had to do was gather the ingredients and pour the liquid into Marguerite's wine.

  It all sounded wonderful in theory, in reality, she only knew the names of a handful of herbs and flowers, so if the potion called for something peculiar, then she was stuck. She would have to hope there would be labelled jars or something in Avrick's collection of bottles. Also, if the mixture she made tasted as bad as the headache potion she was given last time, then there would be no way she could disguise it. Even the strongest tasting wine wouldn't cover it! But she would at least give it a try. Anything was better than having to endure Marguerite's odious company!

  The infirmary was deserted when she arrived, so she quickly walked over to the bookshelf and scanned down the available books. A small one caught her eye. It had a picture of several different herbs on the front. As she picked it up to leaf through it, she heard the door open. Quickly, she slammed the book shut and slipped it up her sleeve.

  "Milady! What brings thee to my chamber? Art thou unwell?"

  She turned around to find Avrick had returned. She quickly pretended she'd been waiting for him. "Yes, Avrick, I fear my headache has returned. Would you be able to prepare another of your potions for me? It worked so well last time."

  Avrick visibly swelled. "Aye, milady. 'Twould be my pleasure. Go and rest and I shall send a servant to thy chamber when 'tis ready."

  "Thank you." She smiled and quickly left his chamber, relieved that he didn't want to watch her actually take the potion. It was ghastly. At least with a servant delivering it, she could throw it out of the window.

  Arriving back at her chamber, she lay on the bed and withdrew the small book from her sleeve. Her eyes sparkling with devilment, she began to flick through the pages. There were a few pictures of herbs, but most of the book was in text form and the language was hard to understand. It seemed to be a mixture of French and English but the English used was nothing like the English she knew. She'd never been good at French, so that was a non starter. Irritated, she threw the book down and lay on her back, staring at the ceiling. What to do? Her plan had turned to dust. Just then, a brief knock sounded on the door and Annie bustled in.

  She seemed surprised to find Jenny already up. "'Tisn't like thee to rise so early, milady. Are thou unwell?"

  Jenny scowled and was just about to reply with a sharp retort when an idea came to mind. "Actually Annie, I don't feel myself. I...well, it's embarrassing to say...but I can't seem to go to the toilet!" She pointed down below and blushed.

  "Oh! Oh, I see!" Annie nodded knowingly. "Well, we can easily sort that out! I hath my very own remedy for such a thing. I shall prepare it for thee now."

  "Annie?" Jenny called out to her before she left the room. "Could you make a couple of batches? It would be nice to keep some spare for the future."

  Annie frowned. "'Tis no bother making thee a fresh batch should the problem arise again."

  "Please, Annie?"

  Annie acquiesced. "Well, if thy problem is that frequent, then of course I can."

  Jenny smiled and thanked her. Shortly after she left, Avrick's servant arrived with her headache potion. She took it off him and made sure he was gone before she threw it out of the window. She sniffed the empty pot and grimaced. God, it stank! Thank goodness for Paracetamol in her own time. Her own time! She sat down on the bed with a thump. Would she ever return or was she goi
ng to be stuck here forever?

  As much as she was enjoying the discovery of life in Medieval England, apart from the odious Marguerite, it still didn't mean that she wasn't missing her own life – a life where she was her own person, answerable only to herself. An image of Stephen popped into her head, and she wondered how she would feel if he wasn't in it. She had grown used to seeing him every day. Would she miss him if she went back? The answer was yes. The realisation left her feeling confused. Did she want to go back or not? Would she have a choice when and if the time came?

  Later that afternoon, Jenny spied Marguerite on her own in the Great Hall. Perfect! She was sitting by the fire, staring into the flames. When she approached, Marguerite turned to stare at her.

  "Oh, 'tis thee," she said sullenly.

  "Yes, it is. Where is everyone?"

  She directed her eyes towards a door at the end of the hall. "Talking about battles!"

  Jenny nodded and chewed on the inside of her cheek. If she was going to administer the laxative, now was as good a time as any. Taking a deep breath, she asked, "Would you like to play Nine Men's Morris with me and have some wine?"

  Marguerite narrowed her eyes. "Wherefore doth thou want to play with me?"

  Jenny shrugged. "Why not? We're both bored. Might as well see if I can beat you at a game rather than waste our time arguing."

  Marguerite raised an eyebrow. "Very well, but I warn thee – I am rarely beaten."

  "Then it will make the game more challenging. If you can get the game, I will fetch the wine. It's in the side room over there."

  When Marguerite was out of sight, Jenny quickly rushed to the high table and poured them both a goblet of wine. With trembling hands, she slipped in two doses of the laxative. If anything was going to confine Marguerite to her chambers – this was it!

  Turning around, she found Marguerite already laying out the game. She looked up when Jenny handed her a goblet.

  "I shall throw first," she stated.

  "Be my guest," Jenny smiled and sat down opposite her. "May the better man win!"