Fallen Knight

by Dana D'Angelo

  Because you won’t be marrying him, he wanted to say. Instead, he tightened his embrace.

  She rested her head back down on his chest and was silent for a long time. The sounds of crickets seemed louder at night, and he felt grateful for the cool air that passed over them. There really was nothing he could say. Most marriages were made for political reasons, reasons to further the power and prestige of both parties. It was obvious for everyone to see that Hervey was an ambitious young knight that was going to go far. Gareth, on the other hand, had nothing to offer. He lifted a hand and began to stroke her silky hair.

  “You will need to do what you must,” he said.

  “Nay,” she said, “I cannot accept this. Did you not tell me that we all have choices?”

  “That is what I said,” he said slowly.

  “Well, despite what everyone tells me, I have decided that I do not want to marry Sir Hervey,” she said, lifting her head up again. This time her eyes were shining with excitement, and her pretty dimple appeared on her cheek. “And you, Gareth, will help me.”

  He arched an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.

  She climbed off of him and tucked her legs underneath her. Taking his hand, she pressed it to her chest. “I want you to pose as my suitor.”

  “Your suitor?” He stared at her.

  “Aye,” she said, nodding her head. “If you agree to this, we can convince my parents that my favor lies with you. Then Sir Hervey will surely back off.” She looked into his eyes. “Will you agree to do this?”

  “What will become of you once Sir Hervey withdraws his marriage offer?”

  “I do not —” she cut herself off. “I will deal with that when it comes. All I ask is that you act as if you are in love with me —”

  “Nay, Clarisse, I refuse to be your suitor,” he said. “However I will become your husband.”

  Chapter 20

  “Ho, Gareth!” a voice shouted across the courtyard.

  Gareth turned around. “Derrik,” he said, regarding the falcon that gripped his friend’s gloved hand. It sat quietly, a soft leather helmet over its head to keep it from startling. Attached to its leg was a long leather thong that prevented it from taking flight. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon after dinner.”

  His friend grinned and urged his horse closer to Gareth. “I just came back from exercising my falcon.” The stable boy had already seen him ride in and raced over to them. “I saw you across the courtyard, and thought perhaps that you might be interested in a little sword play…” He peered at Gareth’s face. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

  “We’re headed to the chapel,” Leofwin offered. He glanced over at Gareth, giving him a sly look. “Although I wouldn’t mind knowing why we’re going there.”

  “You go to the chapel?” Derrik said incredulously. He rolled his eyes heavenward in feigned amazement and let out a laugh. The horse stomped its feet, impatient to move, and Derrik reached over with his free hand to pat it on the side of its neck. “It seems miracles are an everyday occurrence.”

  “A man can go to the chapel if he wishes,” Gareth said, grunting. He lifted a finger and pulled at the collar around his neck, suddenly feeling warm.

  Derrik’s horse settled down, and he carefully slipped off its back, the falcon still firmly attached to his gloved hand. He tossed the reins to the stable boy and began to walk with Gareth.

  “’Twould seem that you have already missed the morning mass,” Derrik said, gesturing to the sun overhead.

  “That is of no consequence,” Gareth shrugged, but he didn’t offer any further explanations.

  Last night with Clarisse had been incredible. Even after they went their separate ways, thoughts of her filled his mind. The next morning when he woke up in his bed, he was almost certain that he had dreamt everything. But then he saw her at dinner, and she smiled warmly at him. It wasn’t a dream after all, and his blood began to stir anew.

  He wanted to be with her again, and dinner at this point seemed to take an excessively long time. But he had some things that he needed to take care of. And as soon as the repast was over, he made his way to the chapel.

  An involuntary smile appeared on his lips. After he spoke to Clarisse’s father he would then declare his good fortune to the world. It was no wonder that Derrik was such a happy man. When a man was in love, the world was brighter, with more opportunities and possibilities. The idea of having Clarisse as his wife made his heart beat with excitement and joy. And for the first time in his life he thought about what the future would hold for him, and the beautiful children they would produce.

  Unfortunately when he got to the chapel, the chaplain wasn’t there. A servant who was replacing the rushes on the floor told him to come back later. It was a temporary setback, but he was willing to return to the chapel and speak with the chaplain.

  “There is something different about you today, Gareth,” Derrik said, stroking the falcon’s wing with a finger. “I might have only imagined it, but I thought I saw you smile just now.”

  “So maybe I did,” he said, shrugging. “’Tis not against the law.”

  “Nay ‘tis not,” Derrik agreed. “But I do have news that might put a bigger grin on your face.” He nodded at the boy. “I’ve found a suitable mentor for your page.”

  “You did?” Leofwin cut in, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

  “Aye, I did,” he said, smiling at the page.

  “Who might this knight be, sire?”

  “’Tis Sir Giles of Bromstok,” Derrik replied. “He’s one of Sir Gordon’s men.”

  Leofwin’s eyes grew large. “I know of Sir Giles!” he breathed. “That knight has won every tournament that he has ever entered.”

  “Aye,” Derrik nodded. “’Twould seem that he is in need of a page.”

  Leofwin bunched his hand in a fist, pumped it in the air, and let out a loud whoop.

  The falcon on his friend’s gloved hand startled and cried out at the unexpected sound.

  “I take it that this news meets with your approval.” Derrik laughed at the boy’s enthusiasm. He smoothed his hand over his bird to calm it down. Turning to Gareth, he said, “I will take your page to meet with Sir Giles. I’m certain that you’re eager to return home.”

  “Perhaps we should not be so hasty,” Gareth said. “I would like to meet with this Sir Giles first. After all, fighting in tournaments is much different than facing a foe across the battlefield. Once I deem that he’s worthy of mentoring a promising page, then I’ll release Leofwin to his charge.”

  Derrik’s brows creased in puzzlement while Leofwin’s jaw dropped open.

  “I thought your aim was to only find a new knight to mentor me,” Leofwin said, the first to recover from the shock.

  “That has not changed,” Gareth nodded.

  “I didn’t know you cared. Maybe you had too much wine again, sire,” Leofwin said. Gareth started to glower at him, but then the boy shot him an impish grin. “But of course, I’ll be happy to get you some more!”

  The boy’s jape shocked him for a split second before a chuckle rumbled in his chest. The others joined in.

  “What has happened to you, Gareth?” Derrik asked in wonder.

  “Lady Clarisse is what happened,” Leofwin said, laughing louder and slapping his knee. “A woman —” Suddenly he stopped as he realized that no one laughed with him. His face reddened and he began to move back. “Um, I think I better go gather my things before I see Sir Giles.”

  Gareth shook his head as he watched Leofwin hurrying across the courtyard, slashing the air as if he had an imaginary sword. For all the boy’s annoying habits, he was going to miss him.

  As Leofwin disappeared from his view, two other figures appeared in his line of sight. The two men looked like brothers, their features reminding him vaguely of Clarisse.

  “I take it that those men are related to Clarisse?” Gareth said casually.

  The brothers shared a similar physique. The older, bl
ond one walked with an authoritative snap to his step, and the scars on his face seemed to indicate that they were hard-won during battle. The younger dark-haired sibling on the other hand was obviously crippled, although he didn’t appear weak or defenseless.

  They were in deep conversation until the older man glanced over at their direction. He said something to his companion and they turned to stare at them.

  “Aye, those are her two brothers,” Derrik said. He paused before adding, “They don’t seem impressed and look as if they want to throw javelins at us.”

  “True enough,” Gareth said, shrugging. “However I might throw the javelins back at them.”

  A laugh burst from Derrik’s lips, but then he quickly sobered. “I must admit that Lady Clarisse has changed you. I thought I would never live to see you jest like this. Tell me truly, is the reason you’re seeking the chaplain have something to do with the lady?”

  “Aye, I need to seek advice from the chaplain.” He paused for a split second, and then decided to reveal his intent. “I plan to marry her.”

  “Ah, that explains it then,” Derrik grinned. “My friend, I have never seen you this happy.” He slapped Gareth on the back. “Now go,” he said. “Get what you need from the chaplain, and then go speak to Lord Servian. I expect to hear good tidings soon.”

  ***

  Leofwin walked with a spring to his steps, his arms swinging at his side. Stopping suddenly, he let out a loud war cry and slashed the air as if an enemy appeared out of nowhere and needed to be attacked. A servant who was feeding grains to the chickens stopped what she was doing and stared at him. He flashed a grin at her. Take a good look at me, for I will be a mighty knight soon enough.

  He continued on his away toward the keep. Today was turning out better than he expected. Since seeking Gareth out many months ago, things were now starting to pay off. Of course, he had handled a wooden ladle more often than a sword, but that was no longer of any significance. Everyone knew that Gareth was at one time a great knight. When he wasn’t drunk, he sometimes went out to the back of the farmhouse to practice sword play on a tree stump. During those rare moments, Leofwin set aside his chores, and secretly observed his mentor. He watched the masterful display of skills with breathless awe, and all the times he resented his chores disappeared in an instant. He knew how heavy and cumbersome it was to handle the broadsword, but seeing his master use the weapon was like watching an intricate dance — every slash, every thrust he made in the air was done with deliberate ease and dexterity.

  But training under Gareth was slow-going, and Leofwin sometimes wondered whether he would ever become a knight. Now he needn’t wonder any longer. His prayers were answered, and he was getting a new mentor! A streak of anticipation and excitement shot through him. He hurried his steps, and made it across the courtyard in record time. All he needed now was to retrieve his meager belongings from Gareth’s bedchamber. After that, he needed to report to Sir Giles, since it was likely that his new duties would start straight away.

  When he arrived at the great hall, he discovered that aside from a small crew of servants, and a handful of knights and their pages, the meeting place was mostly empty. The hall itself was dim and cooler now that the guests had returned to their chambers or to the nearby town. A servant stood at the massive fireplace, throwing in more wood to keep the fire burning, and to chase away the constant chill in the large room. Meanwhile two hounds lay asleep near the hearth, basking in the heat.

  At the front of the great hall, two minstrels were engaged in conversation, their instruments near their feet. Meanwhile a team of servants attempted to clear the trestle tables as dinner was now done. Unfortunately for them, the knights and pages that were still there refused to give up their seats. Close by a woman was sweeping up the dirty rushes, and another one was laying down fresh ones.

  Leofwin started to make his way across the great hall when his steps faltered. There in plain view were his mortal enemies — the three pages that had tormented him ever since he set foot in Stanbury Castle. The leader of the group was none other than Linden, Hervey’s page. Leofwin was successful in keeping a wide berth from them, but now they were directly in his path. At the moment, they were deep in a heated game of dice. He looked around the room, trying to find an alternate route to the private chambers when his eyes fell on Hervey.

  He cursed under his breath. Suddenly all thoughts of his tormentors flew from his mind, and in its place were feelings of anger and hatred toward the knight. He remembered how Hervey had deliberately attacked Gareth. His master was a bigger, stronger man, although it was clear that he refused to stoop low enough to retaliate. But Leofwin wasn’t a knight yet, and Hervey needed to be taught a lesson. The knight and his friend were heavily into their cups. And although a chess board sat between them, they conversed more than they played.

  He was too far to hear what they were saying. But a great idea popped into his mind, and he felt a grin stretch across his face. His hand went to the little pouch attached to his belt and closed around it. This small sack was the most valuable thing that he owned. Inside were all his worldly possessions. These were things that he had carefully collected, and were very useful in times of need. Digging into the leather bag, his sifted through, and found the long string that he had placed there not too long ago. He fingered it and almost laughed out loud as he imagined what he could do with it. Looking around, he saw that no one paid him any mind, since the attention was now focused on the three pages. Hervey’s page had gotten up from his seat and shoved hard at the companion across from him.

  “You cheated!” Linden yelled, throwing himself at his smaller companion and punching him on the head.

  The hound got up from its place at the hearth and began barking. Soon the sounds of the animal and the shouts from the boys resonated loudly throughout the great hall. At the commotion, the other occupants in the great hall looked curiously over at them. Some got up and gravitated over to the fight. Even Hervey and his friend halted briefly in their discussion to glance over at the scuffle.

  Taking advantage of the distraction, Leofwin jumped quickly over the bench and ducked under the table. There was enough space underneath the table for him to crawl through, and get to where Hervey and his friend sat. He paused a moment, peering out through the opening between the table and bench to ensure that no one saw his mad dash. He breathed a sigh of relief when everything seemed in order. Then facing forward, and with Hervey’s legs as his target, he inched forward on his hands and knees.

  As he crawled through the dirty floor, his hand crushed something mushy. He paused and scrunched his face in disgust as an old piece of cherry pie stuck to his palm. Grabbing a handful of dried rushes bunched underneath the bench, he began to wipe away the guck. But then out of the corner of his eyes, he saw something streak by. He turned his head just in time to see a small mouse run out from the table and dart out to the other side of the room. He shook his head. What was he thinking? There was no way that he could go, and meet his new mentor reeking like rodent droppings and rotten food. But it was too late to turn back now. If he suddenly popped out from under the table, he would be caught. The only option left was to continue forward.

  He could hear their voices now.

  “She slept with him, Andhun,” Hervey was saying, his smooth baritone voice slurred but unmistakable. “Of all people, she chose to bed with that fool.”

  “Perhaps ‘tis just talk. Seems to me when you have a large gathering, there are all kinds of talk — some are true and some are not.”

  “Nay, the news came from Lord Servian this morning.”

  A cup slammed down on the table, causing dust particles to fall onto Leofwin’s head. He shook the dirt from his hair, and went to dig into his pouch when his hand stilled. Why was Hervey talking about Lord Servian?

  “I was beginning to care for that bitch,” Hervey said. “But then she goes, and does this to me.”

  The knight could only be talking about Clarisse, Leofwin re
alized. And the sleeping anger surged to his chest again. He liked the noble lady, and the thought that she was going to marry this bastard sickened him. But it was news to him that she would bed anyone. She was a virgin after all, wasn’t she? From the little that he knew of noblewomen, they protected their virtues and didn’t sleep around. But then he remembered that his master had disappeared last night shortly after the altercation in the great hall. Leofwin never bothered to follow his master, because he knew that Gareth wanted to be alone. Now he was doubly glad that he didn’t follow him, because it appeared that he met up with Clarisse. From the beginning Leofwin knew that the knight was smitten with Clarisse. Whenever his master didn’t think anyone noticed, he watched the pretty noblewoman.

  “Fill up my cup,” Hervey said from above. “I want more wine.”

  Leofwin was now almost directly underneath from where the two men sat. Just as he pulled the long string from his pouch, he heard the scraping of the wine canister dragging across the table and the liquid pouring into a smaller vessel. Some of the wine splashed onto the table and began to drip through the cracks. He pulled back quickly to avoid getting the sticky substance on him.

  “I said fill my cup, Andhun, not spill it all over the table!” Hervey jerked his leg, and Leofwin’s heart jumped right along with it.

  “Sorry, sire, my hand slipped.”

  Hervey grunted and settled back down. He noisily drank from his cup and let out a loud burp.

  “So what will you do?” Andhun asked, unruffled by his friend’s irritation. “Will you go ahead and marry her?”

  Leofwin waited until his heart returned to normal before he let out a slow breath. He now realized what a dangerous position he placed himself. He supposed that the smartest thing to do was to crawl back to where he started, and get the hell out while he still had a chance. But he had come so far, a voice inside him argued. He might as well finish off what he had set out to do.