Smoothing down her headpiece, the innkeeper’s wife straightened her back. She beckoned them over to the spot before returning to the hearth.
“Come,” Clarisse said, tugging at Edith’s sleeve. “I paid good coin to get that seat. We had better claim it before someone else has a mind to take the spot.”
Not waiting for either Edith or her escort, Clarisse made her way over to the vacated space. She weaved through the crush of people, but when she finally made it to the stool, her fears had come true, and someone else was already there.
“You are in my seat,” she said, unable to keep the frustration out of her voice.
“I don’t care —” the man started to say, his voice slurring slightly. But as he turned around, the irritation in his bearded face suddenly changed, and was replaced by a lecherous one.
His expression set her heart pounding, and her skin grew cold and clammy. What was he going to do? A moment ago, she was so sure that visiting the tavern was a good idea. She swallowed hard, now remembering all too well how dangerous men could be. Should she just leave? But she paid for this seat, a voice inside insisted. She had every right to it —
“Why don’t ye come sit right here?” the man said, patting clumsily on his knee. He smiled at her through the gap between his teeth.
A man who sat beside the hairy one turned. He seemed younger, but that same leering expression appeared on his visage.
“Jessop is too much of an ugly bastard,” he said, reaching for her. “Come to me instead.” His grip was like heavy manacles, and she felt herself stiffening. Suddenly she was thrust into the past as fear and helpless choked her. That look on his face was all too familiar, and she could feel a scream gathering in her throat.
“My lady will do no such thing,” Edith said sharply, slapping the hand away from Clarisse. She looked behind her, and yelled, “Sir Gamel!”
Her nursemaid’s piercing tone penetrated into Clarisse’s brain, and the crippling fear loosened its hold on her. She took in a heaving breath until slowly the sights and sounds returned to normal.
Gamel came to stand by her side. Reaching over, he grabbed the man by the collar, yanking him out of the seat. But her escort held the advantage for only so long. Before he had a chance to react, the man swung a wild fist, and connected with the knight’s jaw, throwing him off balance.
Shaking his head, Gamel narrowed his eyes. Then, lowering his head, he let out a bellow of rage. He charged like a wild boar, barreling right into the other man’s mid-section. The other patrons scattered as both men crashed heavily onto the ground,
A small circle of people surrounded the two fighting men, cheering them on.
She took in a shaky breath as she waited for her heart to finally settle down. She turned to search for Edith, but a solid chest blocked her way.
“Where do ye think ye’re going?” Jessop said, leering at her.
“You had better leave me alone,’ she warned. He stood so close that she could smell his sour breath.
“Or what?” He glanced at Gamel who was on the ground, locked in combat. “Forget yer man, and come with me. I’ll show ye some fun.”
“I would have more fun with the pigs,” she said, backing away.
“Ye’re a funny one, aren’t ye?” The man gave a high-pitched laugh. His hairy hand quickly snaked out, and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her toward him.
Clarisse let out a startled cry as his fingers dug into her sides. She closed her eyes as helpless fear seized her again, causing her brain to become numb.
But then all of a sudden she felt fists battering at the hands that imprisoned her.
“Let her go!” Edith shrieked.
Relief flooded her body as Clarisse realized that she was no longer trapped in that tower chamber. Nor was she defenseless. Straining with all her might, she added her own fist, pounding at the beefy arm that gripped her. Meanwhile her free hand fumbled for the dagger that hung at her belt. She unsheathed it. Then as if an unseen force guided her, she jerked the blade forward, slicing the attacker across the forearm.
The man screamed and abruptly released her. He looked down at the blood squirting from his wounded limb, a look of surprised horror on his face. In the next instant his face turned a dark red, and he clamped his hand over his wound
“Ye bitch!” he cried. “Ye cut me!”
She heard her heart thudding loudly in her ears. Never had she raised a weapon on another person, and she was shocked at what she did. And then the consequences of what she did hit her. Now he will be even angrier toward me. She swallowed hard. But even though she suddenly felt herself trembling like a leaf, she tightened her grip on the dagger.
Chapter 3
“Leave her alone,” a deep voice said from behind her.
Clarisse whipped her head around, and discovered that it was the dark-haired stranger that she had spied earlier. Was he here to help or hurt her?
“Ye should mind your own business, friend,” Jessop said, almost sneering.
“I don’t think I like your tone,” the stranger said, reaching for her. “Nor am I your friend.” He placed Clarisse behind him. “Don’t you know that ‘tis rude to accost a woman of noble birth?”
“I don’t care about her birth. A bitch is a bitch,” the man hissed, although he didn’t come after her.
She looked over at Gamel, and saw him pushing himself up off the floor. He stumbled over to the attacker. “You dare insult my lady? I’ll take you out just like I took out your friend.” The other man lay curled on the dirty rushes, clutching his stomach and groaning in pain.
Clarisse was grateful when Edith tugged at her tunic, pulling her out of harm’s way.
The room rippled with excitement. A handful of people craned their necks, curious to see what would occur, although they were too afraid to get any closer. The rest of the patrons bravely or foolishly moved forward, forming a big circle around them.
The innkeeper ran over as fast as his fat legs could carry him. “Outside!” he cried. “Take your fight outside!”
“She started it first.” The wounded man lifted his blood soaked sleeve in the air. “Look at what she did to me!”
“It seems to me that you got what you deserved,” her dark-haired rescuer said.
“Aye,” a squeaky voice piped up beside the man. “I wouldn’t cross Sir Gareth if I were you.”
Clarisse glanced over at the boy, startled at hearing a familiar name. But she wasn’t the only one that was astonished.
Jessop paused and took a good look at Clarisse’s rescuer. His eyes widened. “S —sir Gareth?” he gasped.
The other man got up on his knees, holding his belly, his face turning a shade of green. He pushed himself off the ground. “Sir Gareth rarely comes to Wykeham,” he said, slowly inching back.
“Well,” the boy said, one fist planted at his hips. “He’s here now.”
A murmur went through the crowd, and they all turned to regard Gareth.
“My lady,” Edith whispered at her side. “Sir Gamel says we should leave now.”
“Aye,” she said, her voice shaky. But she was unable to take her eyes away from her champion. This was Sir Gareth? From the moment she saw him sitting at the table, she noticed that he was rather large. Yet for a sizable man, he was fast and quiet. He had dark wavy hair that reached to his shoulders. The muscles underneath his plain tunic stretched across his broad back, and it was obvious to see that he possessed a warrior’s physique. At the moment, his hand rested casually on the hilt of his sword. But even that small movement seemed charged with danger.
“Please sire, I only wanted a bit of fun, I meant no harm.” the hairy man said, his face pale. He pushed a stool toward them with his boot. “Here ye go. Ye can take my seat.”
Slowly he crept back and when he was a foot away, he turned and ran out the door. The thin man who was on the floor, sprang up at the same moment and followed his friend, muscling his way through the crowd in his haste to also get away.
Now that the altercation was over, the excitement petered out, and the crowd returned to their cups. She looked down and scrunched her nose when she noticed that she still held the dagger. Quickly sheathing it, she was eager to put aside this incident.
“Those horrible men are gone now,” Clarisse said, letting out a shaky breath. She put on a brave smile and turned to the knight. “’Tis not necessary for us to —”
But she discovered that he was gone. With his long strides, the stranger was already headed back to his seat, while his boy trailed behind him. She debated whether to just let the knight leave, but her conscience pricked at her. The least she could do was to express her gratitude.
“Sir Gareth, wait,” she said.
The knight halted in his tracks and turned to face her. “My name is Gareth. That is all.”
“I just heard those men call you Sir…” She gave him a puzzled look.
“A title means nothing,” he said.
She nodded her head, although she didn’t really understand what he meant. People who possessed titles held the power in society. “I — I want to thank you for your assistance, sire.”
He bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment and began to turn away again.
“You’re the knight that once rode with the Iron Hawk, is that correct?” Gamel said, stopping him.
“Aye,” the boy said proudly. “You’re looking at one of the king’s celebrated knights. He —”
“Enough,” Gareth said.
The boy looked like he wanted to say more, but the not so subtle warning on his master’s face kept him silent. He looked over at Clarisse and shrugged.
But she didn’t need to hear anything more. Her cousin had met the man, and told her about how he lived in the outer skirts of the kingdom. A man who lived alone in the woods was either deranged, a danger to society, or possibly both.
However, now that she faced him, she amended her opinion of him. He wasn’t nearly as bad as she imagined. And although he wasn’t as fair as some men she knew, he possessed a rugged male beauty. The impassive expression on his visage made it appear as if he wasn’t in the habit of smiling. His face was broad with high cheekbones, and dark, wavy hair framed his visage. A shadow of a beard grew on his strong chin, making the indentation at his chin even more pronounced. His shoulders were broad and his sleeves were rolled up, exposing powerful, wiry forearms. At first she had thought that his tunic was of poor quality, but upon closer inspection, she saw that at one time the faded fabric was spun from fine wool.
“Perhaps now that the skirmish is ended, we can sit down and eat,” she said, making an uncomfortable sound in her throat. She tried to stop from staring at the knight, but it was difficult not to look at him. Here was one of King Edward’s legendary knights after all, and the more she regarded him, the more appealing he seemed.
The boy got his stool and dragged it over to them. “You can have my seat,” he said, nodding to Gamel.
“Nay, I will stand here by my lady’s side.”
“Sir Gamel,” she said. “I think I shall be fine now. ‘Tis unlikely that the drunkards will return.” The guard nodded, but he didn’t move. She looked uneasily at the faint purple shadow that surrounded his right eye and the small cut at the side of his lip. “You are hurt, so I give you leave to attend yourself.”
“I’m fine, my lady.” His eyes shifted over at Gareth as if he wasn’t sure what to make of the man.
But Gareth seemed oblivious to Gamel, or anyone else in the room. He wrapped one sizable hand around his cup and drank absently. Then as if he sensed her eyes on him, he shifted, locking his gaze with hers. Her breath suddenly caught in her throat and her heart began to quicken. His hot gaze slowly roamed over her body, lingering on her breasts and then moving down to the curve of her hips. The heat of his eyes burned through her gown, although she was almost certain that he couldn’t see through to her flesh. After all, she was wearing several layers of clothing. As far as she knew, no man possessed the ability to see through fabric. Nevertheless, she crossed her arms over her chest.
But then he looked back down at his cup. And the fire that he directed at her ceased abruptly. Obviously he didn’t want her near him.
“Perhaps, we can take these stools elsewhere,” she said awkwardly.
“Nay, there is plenty of room here,” the boy said, quickly. He looked at her expensive cloak. “The old woman said that you’re a lady,” he gave her an engaging smile. “I’ve not seen a noblewoman up close like this before.”
Clarisse returned his smile, although she didn’t really feel like smiling. Now that the shock had subsided, she was starting to regret her hasty decision to procure her seat. Unfortunately when she looked behind her, she discovered that more people had entered the tavern and waited to be seated.
If her mouth wasn’t watering over the delicious aroma of rabbit stew, she might have reconsidered, and decided to leave Wykeham as her nursemaid advised. But her stomach rumbled and demanded hot food.
“Take my seat,” Gareth said, suddenly getting up. His voice was deep and gravely. And it had a strange effect on her, causing a small flutter in her belly.
“You would give up your seat for us?” she asked, her eyes wide.
His thick brow quirked. He returned her stare and try as she might, she couldn’t really tell what it was that he was thinking. His face was as unmoving as granite, although his intelligent eyes seemed to be clear and observant.
The boy leaned forward. “You had better take up on his offer,” he said in a loud whisper. “Sir Gareth would not give up his seat to just anyone.”
“Thank you,” she said to the knight, blinking at his surprising act of kindness.
“You’re not from Wykeham, are you?” the boy continued, his eyes lingering on the Laventon standard that was stitched onto Gamel’s surcoat.
“Nay, we are just passing through the town.”
“What is your name?” he asked.
“That is not a way to address a noblewoman,” Edith frowned. Then under her breath, she muttered. “’Tis beneath you to even associate with these commoners, my lady.”
“You can call me Clarisse,” she said, ignoring her nursemaid.
“Lady Clarisse,” Edith corrected.
The boy shrugged and also pretended not to hear the nursemaid. “Well I’m Leofwin, and I plan to be a knight someday,” he announced.
She looked at his shining face, and smiled pleasantly at him, unwilling to burst his enthusiasm. This boy looked as if he possessed little more than the clothes on his back. And his mentor didn’t look very wealthy either, judging from his clothing, which was worn and frayed at the hem.
“Why are you here?” Gareth asked, his tone blunt. “Not many people veer off the King’s Highway unless there is a reason.”
Edith touched her hand and whispered urgently. “We must not tell —”
“We are making our way to Stanbury Castle,” Clarisse said.
Leofwin’s face lit up. “Stanbury Castle,” he repeated. “That’s where we’re going. Isn’t that right, Sir Gareth?”
But Gareth ignored the boy. “I believe that you’re here for a different reason,” he said, looking at her.
“What do you mean?” she asked cautiously. “I rode ahead of my family. They are sure to arrive very shortly.
“A noblewoman would not travel with just one escort and one attendant. And she would not stop here in Wykeham when Stanbury is a short distance away. I think that you’re hiding from someone.”
She opened her mouth, speechless.
“You will be found unfortunately.” His deep voice caressed over her skin, making it tingle and flush, almost as if the sun had touched it. But then his words sunk in.
“I — I do not know what you mean,” she said, trying to search for a plausible denial and coming up empty.
“Take a look around you, my lady. Many people have already seen you.”
She looked uneasily at her surroundings. When she first walked
in, she thought that no one had noticed her, but now she wasn’t so sure if this really was the case.
“If your intent is to hide from your pursuers,” he said, lifting his cup to his lips, “then this establishment is a poor choice. If you don’t know already, I will make it painfully clear — you’re in the most obvious place that would be searched.”
“You are wrong,” she said, although even she could hear the lack of conviction in her tone. “The most unlikely place that will be searched is the most obvious one.” She pulled her cloak tighter around her.
“If you say so,” Gareth released a puff of air from his nose and turned back to his tankard.
Clarisse frowned at him, feeling miffed. She wanted to spin him around, and continue their argument. But he had already forgotten about her. She glanced down at the table, and for the first time, she noticed that there were three empty tankards in front of him. There was no food. He was just a drunk, broken down knight. What did he know? His opinions of her shouldn’t matter, and if she was wise, she would stop speaking with him.
“Do you plan to stay the night?” the boy asked.
She turned to look at the youth, glad for the distraction. At least he was friendly. “Nay, as soon as we have something to eat, we will continue on our way.”
“Since you are heading in our direction, we will come with you,” the boy said.
“I do not think your master would want to accompany us,” she said, sending a sideways glance at Gareth.
Before the knight had any chance to answer, the page was already nodding his head enthusiastically. “Nay, he wouldn’t mind at all, my lady!”
Chapter 4
“My lady, quick,” Edith said, grabbing onto Clarisse’s hand and tugging her to the side of the inn. “The knight and the boy have gone inside the stable with Sir Gamel. They will return soon enough, so we must take this opportunity to hide.”
“Have you gone mad?” Clarisse jerked her hand out of Edith’s grip. “Why do we need to hide?”
She opened her mouth in astonishment and then snapped it shut again. She could already see Lady Chantal looking at her with a disapproving frown. Under Edith’s charge, Clarisse used to be an obedient girl. But now that she had returned from Stanbury, Edith had little sway over her. She could only surmise that it was likely Lady Amelie who influenced the change. Clarisse’s cousin was known to be head strong and persuasive, and lately Clarisse displayed similar qualities.
Fallen Knight Page 3