Fallen Knight

by Dana D'Angelo

  Her father coughed into his fist before responding. “Not irreparable, but Sir Hervey will likely demand more dowry from this matrimony.”

  “What was going through your mind, Clarisse?” her mother said, shaking her head. “We have done all we can to secure a good future for you and our people, yet you throw our efforts aside, and make us a laughing stock.” She let out a loud sigh. “Where have I gone wrong, child? Tell me. Did your good manners and breeding disappear when we sent you to Stanbury Castle to attend my sister?”

  “Nay, my lady,” Clarisse said in a modulated tone. But nevertheless anger swirled and stirred within her belly. “My manners and breeding are still in tact.”

  It was foolish to provoke her parents, and she kept her full retort contained. She wished that she had exited with everyone else, but even she knew that she couldn’t avoid being reprimanded for her actions. Looking back, it wasn’t very smart to hide from her suitor. But she was desperate. In fact, she was still distraught, except her aversion to marrying Hervey was now obvious to everyone. She felt remorseful that it had to come to this. The last thing she thought to consider was that she would unwittingly humiliate Hervey —

  “Sir Hervey is a good man,” her father said, letting out a rattling cough. Lord Servian was no longer in his prime. At one time he was greatly feared and gained the respect of his peers. But now he was slightly bent, his once sandy colored hair was sprinkled with grey, and his gait was marred by a slight limp that was acquired from an old battle. The expression on his countenance however was grave and proud. She saw disapproval in his eyes, and she felt terrible that she was the one that placed it there.

  “The knight’s reputation and wealth is increasing, and one day he will be a warrior to be reckoned with,” he continued, and then frowned. “’Twould be well for you to do your duty, and marry the knight. For by doing so, you will help further our cause. What is more, you will be able to continue enjoying the privileges that you are accustomed to.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but his gaze cut her off.

  “I will not hear any argument from you. No other marriage prospect will be as good as what Sir Hervey is offering. You will marry the man, and you will not engage in any more foolish antics that puts our family’s name to shame. Neither I nor your brother will have any more of this. Do you understand?”

  “Aye, father,” she said, staring at her hands. What more could she say other than that? She would have to do her duty as everyone told her and suffer in silence. That was the only choice for a woman of her station.

  After more lecture, her parents left her in solar, leaving her to contemplate her dilemma and mend her ways. She should have gone back to her bedchamber, and perhaps allow herself to weep in the comfort of her nursemaid’s arms. But she needed a place to mourn in private.

  She was glad that Lady Edeline had ushered everyone out of the solar. It was humiliating enough to be reprimanded, but to have others witness her embarrassment, it would have been ten times as worse. Still, a more vocal, more rebellious side of her screamed out: This is not fair! She stumbled over to a seat at the side of the wall and bent over, burying her head in her hands. It seemed that everyone was against her. And the only person who was sympathetic toward her was a stranger that she had only met a few days before.

  But as her thoughts lingered on Gareth, her earlier feelings of humiliation slowly dissipated. And suddenly her thoughts wandered over to the encounter in the kitchen. There was no mistaking it; Gareth was different from all the men in her life. He wasn’t prone to florid speech like Hervey. She didn’t feel a need to put an act up when he was around. But that was mainly because he didn’t seem to care what she said or did. And even though she didn’t mean to tell him anything, he seemed to understand her, to know her deepest thoughts. Why couldn’t Hervey be more like Gareth? Because he wasn’t Gareth, a voice inside told her.

  “I do not deserve this,” she told the empty room, and stared glumly at her hands.

  And she put all the blame on Roldan de Calmette, the former Duke of Hangrov. It was almost like yesterday that had she come across Roldan and her friend Helewise. Lady Edeline had granted Clarisse the day off to pursue her own interests. As it was hot and muggy outside, she opted to go to her favorite tower chamber, and catch a glimpse of the knights training in the outer courtyard. The room was used mainly to store looms and spindles, but she discovered that it had the best view of the makeshift training ground. While she admired the physique and fighting skills of all the Stanbury knights, the man that she was most interested in was Giles.

  Giles was a newly appointed squire, but she saw that he had the potential to be a very good knight. She wrapped her arms around herself as a streak of energy zipped to her heart, making it flutter happily. Last year at the May Day festival, he had approached her and shyly extended a damask rose. She was so shocked by his offering that she just stared at the flower in his hand. Before she had a chance to recover, he shoved the rose at her.

  “’Tis for you,” he mumbled. Then with his face a beet red, he turned quickly and disappeared.

  All day long, she looked out for him. When she saw him at dinner, she approached Giles to thank him for the gift, but he was too busy with his friends, and he didn’t notice her standing there. Lady Edeline called for her then, and she returned to her side. No other opportunity arose where she could speak with him alone. And it was only every now and then that she caught a glimpse of him. A year later, Giles was no longer a page, and things had changed so much. He seemed different somehow, taller, and more handsome, definitely more handsome. But he was practically a man now, and his interest in young girls had waned. His sights were now set on budding women like Helewise, who was three years older than Clarisse. It was hard not to feel envious of the attention that her friend received, especially when her feelings for Giles had grown almost bigger than her heart. Unfortunately all that she could do was to admire him from afar.

  Humming a familiar tune under her breath, she pushed open the door and entered the chamber. Immediately she was assailed by the afternoon heat that was trapped in the musky room. She was about to close the door when a grunt, followed by whimpers sounded off to the right. Whipping her head around, she peered in the direction of the noise.

  “Oh,” she said before she could prevent the sound from escaping. Her fingers flew to cover her mouth, but it was already too late.

  The duke cursed and fumbled with his tunic and hose. And when Amelie’s uncle turned to see who had disturbed him, he saw her standing there, rooted to the stone floor. It was at that moment that Clarisse caught a glimpse of the girl lying at his feet. But the worst part of it was that she knew the girl. Helewise was someone who ate beside her, who slept in the next pallet, and who assisted her in attending Lady Edeline. Tears streamed down the other girl’s face, her chestnut colored hair pulled out of her braids. Crawling onto her knees, she sobbed and struggled with the folds of her gown.

  “What the hell do you want?” the duke demanded, his dark eyes narrowing dangerously at her.

  “N — nothing, Your Grace,” Clarisse said. Clearly she was not wanted here, and she took a step back, the fury in his voice frightening her. Her heart hammered in her chest, drowning out any other sound. And she could feel her chest tightening as well, the constriction causing her to take in small, shallow breaths. Get out of this chamber! Forget what you have seen! But even as her mind screamed the commands at her, she was helpless to look away or to even move.

  “Run, Clarisse!” Helewise shrieked as she got up and made for the door.

  The urgency in her voice woke Clarisse from her stupor, and she turned to flee. Except she wasn’t fast enough. With long strides, Roldan caught up to her, catching a hold of her long braid, and yanking it.

  Clarisse cried out in pain as he caught her by the waist.

  He kicked the door closed and dragged her back into the room.

  “Nay,” he said, breathing hard. Grabbing her upper arms, he pulled h
er closer to him, so close that she could smell the stale wine on his breath. “You will take the other girl’s place…”

  Clarisse shook her head, not wanting to think about what had happened after that. Roldan de Calmette was dead now, she reminded herself. She had traveled with Sir Gordon and Lady Edeline to the king’s court, and with her own eyes, she witnessed her attacker being hanged and quartered. Lady Edeline had gripped her arm, but Clarisse barely noticed the pain of her hands digging into her flesh. She stood transfixed as the former duke dangled from the noose, his hands grasping helplessly at the rope at his neck. And when it looked like he was about to take his last breath, the executioner cut him down. She knew that this wasn’t an act of mercy, and even though she felt sick to her stomach, she watched the executioner complete his job, punishing Roldan for the crime he committed against the king. And when the deed was done, and most of the spectators had already moved on to their usual business, she still stared at the spot where the execution took place. She felt numb. But this wasn’t a dream, and her tormentor was truly and completely dead. The man had caused so much pain and suffering, and finally justice was served for her and countless other people. The official reason for Roldan’s death was high treason. But in her heart she wanted to believe that his death was also God’s punishment for the crime he committed against her and Helewise. She had fully expected to have nightmares from watching the public death, but that night she slept soundly.

  The door creaked open, and Clarisse lifted her head from her hands.

  “I saw your parents leaving the solar, so I came back to see you.”

  “Oh, ‘tis you, Amelie,” she said.

  “Truly, things cannot be so bad,” her cousin said, closing the door tightly behind her.

  “Believe me, they are,” she replied, unable to contain the misery in her voice. Clarisse took in a shaky breath and looked at her cousin, grateful for the interruption. “And they will unfortunately get worse.” Then seeing her cousin’s worried countenance, she felt shame rise to the surface. “I am sorry that I created a problem by disappearing earlier. I had a lot on my mind, and was not thinking properly.” She paused. “I hope that you will forgive me.”

  “I know you long enough to figure that there is a reason why you were hiding.” A thoughtful expression entered Amelie’s pretty face. “What did your parents say to you? You look as pale as if you’ve seen the dead.”

  I am seeing the dead. But she didn’t dare say this out loud. Even though Roldan was no longer alive, his image crept into her mind, haunting her during the day and night. Albeit the haunting wasn’t as frequent as before, yet the awful memories still had enough impact to make her tremble. However these dark thoughts belonged in the past, she told herself fiercely. Roldan no longer could hurt her now, and she couldn’t allow him to destroy her.

  She gave her cousin a practiced smile. “They have confirmed that I am to marry Sir Hervey,” she said, “Although they have yet to agree to the terms of the contract.”

  “These are good tidings, are they not?” When Clarisse didn’t respond right away, she leaned back and looked at her thoughtfully. “I see.”

  “He has an ill temper, Amelie.” She twisted her hands on her lap. “I fear that I do not like him,” she added, her voice barely audible. “How can a person not like a man that she will marry?”

  “Do not worry, Clarisse,” Amelie took her icy hands in hers, and gave them a reassuring squeeze. “All will be fine, you will see.”

  “Aye, marriage will make it all better,” she said bitterly. A desperate sob caught in her throat and she covered her face.

  “Oh, Clarisse,” Amelie said, pulling her into an embrace.

  She rested her cheek on her cousin’s shoulder, allowing the hot, salty tears to flow down her cheeks. “I — I do not wish to marry him, Amelie. Why will no one listen to me?”

  “Do not despair,” she said, patting her softly on the shoulder. “Derrik says that Sir Hervey has many redeeming qualities. All the knights speak well of him, and he is said to be honorable and skilled as a warrior. For myself, I find that he is charming. I am certain that once you are married to him, you will be fine. Marriage will change things. I know that it has changed me.” She smiled brightly. “And I am also certain that when you have children, they would occupy your time, and you will forget that you ever entertained any reservations about this union.”

  “’Tis easy for you to say this,” Clarisse said, pulling back. She wiped the tears away with her fingers. “You have a loving husband who dotes upon you.”

  “I did not always know that Derrik loved me, as you recall. Nor did I know that I loved him. From the moment he stepped onto the castle grounds, I despised him with a passion that frightened me. But look at me now. I am now married to the man, and enjoy a contentedness that I never knew possible.”

  Clarisse nodded her head slowly. Amelie wasn’t exaggerating, since every time she spoke about Derrik, she glowed like a newly lit candle. In fact, she would probably be with Derrik right now if he had returned from the search party.

  “Perhaps you are right.”

  “There is something else,” Amelie raised a hand to pinch at her lower lip, while she looked at her thoughtfully.

  “Nay, there is nothing,” she said, avoiding her gaze.

  “I know you far too well, Clarisse.” Amelie shook her head. “Come, tell me what ‘tis that is bothering you.”

  She no longer wanted to talk about her troubles. If her cousin continued with her line of questioning, she would pry the secret that she held back for the past six years. The last thing she wanted was for Amelie to shoulder the burden that Clarisse carried. After all, it was she who stepped into that tower chamber with her head full of foolish dreams, so it was she alone who had to bear the cross. Fortunately, she had the ability to pretend that everything was fine. And she could keep on deluding herself, and pretend that the attack was only a figment of her imagination, only a nightmare.

  “I am thinking of love,” Clarisse said, blurting out the first thing that came to her mind. She wiped the last of the tears on her face and forced a smile to her lips. “I had thought ‘twas impossible for me to find love, however you have found it. This gives me hope.”

  She sighed inwardly with relief when Amelie beamed, and allowed herself to be swayed by another topic.

  “You will find it too, Clarisse,” she said eagerly. “Love is wonderful, especially when ‘tis felt by both parties.”

  “But how do you know that you are in love?” she asked, searching for clues on her cousin’s expressive countenance.

  “You just know.” Amelie folded her hands in front of her chest, and a dreamy expression crossed her face. “When he looks at you, you feel as if you are as beautiful as the elusive wood nymphs, and your heart sings the songs of paradise whenever he is near. And when he is gone, it feels as if you are parted from your best friend, and a great sadness descends over your heart. But one thing is certain. You cannot imagine your life without him.”

  Her cousin’s speech penetrated through the dark cynicism of her own heart, and a tiny seed of hope sprang from within. Then without conscious thought, Gareth’s image floated to her mind. All the things that Amelie described were things that she felt with Gareth. She knew that once his business here was over, he was going to leave Stanbury Castle. She wasn’t sure how that made her feel. Perhaps a little sad, as Amelie had suggested. And she had to admit that she became quite excited whenever she was near him. But was this even love?

  “You describe a lovely image, Amelie,” she said sighing. “I would want a man who loves me like this, who sees me as an equal rather than just a stepping stone to further his goals.” She looked past her cousin and continued dreamily, “He shall kiss me, and leave my head spinning from the pleasure of it. And most of all, he will respect my intellect, and engage me in friendship…”

  “Then you have experienced love,” Amelie said, surprise in her voice. “A woman who has never felt true love
could not possibly describe it like the way you just did,” she looked thoughtfully at Clarisse. “If Sir Hervey has kissed you, and you received pleasure from it, then in time your feelings will most certainly grow into love.”

  “No one has kissed me thus.” Clarisse felt heat spreading to her cheeks. “I am only describing my dream knight.”

  “Oh,” Amelie furrowed her brow. “It sounded as if you spoke of someone you knew…”

  Clarisse was saved from responding when there was a sudden knock at the door.

  “Enter,” Amelie commanded.

  “My lady,” a servant said, “Sir Derrik has returned to the castle, and asks that you meet him in your bedchamber.”

  A blush stained her cheeks as she got up from her seat. “Tell him that I will be with him shortly.” Then turning her attention back to Clarisse, she said, “We will be leaving for the king’s court at first light. However when I return to Stanbury Castle, you and I will speak again. There is something that you are not telling me, and I mean to find out who this man is that makes your head spin.”

  Chapter 13

  Clarisse lifted her head when she heard female voices just outside the door. It was too much to hope that she would have the solar to herself after Amelie had left. Somehow the news must have spread that Lord Servian and his lady wife had finished their interview with her.

  As the women entered the small solar, their noise was boisterous, as if chickens were set loose in a coup. But the prospect of spending the rest of the afternoon engaged in idle chat with these women made her shoulders bunch up with tension.

  “We are so glad that you are found safe,” gushed a wife of one of the minor lords. She was a homely looking woman with thin lips and a sharp nose. And she was also a gossip.

  “I was never in any danger, my lady,” she said, giving the woman a tight smile. She moved to get up, but a young maiden plopped down next to her.

  “They are assembling a fox hunt in the great hall,” she sighed and looked wistfully toward the window. “I am too young to go with them as you can see, though I sorely wish it.”