Fallen Knight

by Dana D'Angelo

  The two boys crouched down, busily filling their baskets. As Gareth watched them work, a plan began to form in his mind.

  “You boy,” he said, beckoning to the older one. “Give me your cloak.”

  The youth stood up. “Sire, this is the only one I have,” he said, blinking nervously.

  “I shall return it to you once I’m finished with it.” He put out his hand, and reluctantly the boy surrendered his cloak. His eyes widened when Gareth handed him two copper coins. “I want you to stay here while I return to the castle with your friend. Once I’ve entered through the gates, you’re free to make your way back inside.”

  “Take my basket, sire,” the boy said, holding out his straw container with one hand, while the other hand gripped the coins tightly as if he was afraid to lose it. “It will make you appear as though the cook sent you to search for mushrooms.”

  “A good idea,” Gareth said, nodding. He took the half filled basket from the boy.

  From where he stood, he could see movement just beyond the portcullis. Somehow he needed to make it past the guard without raising suspicion. Last night when he was in the cart, it had been dark and stormy. Likely no one was aware that he wallowed among the pigs.

  A horse and cart loaded with hay drove past them, the noise of the wheels creaking slowly and steadily.

  “If the guard asks anything, I want you to answer him as you normally would, understand?”

  “Aye,” the boy squeaked, and hugged his basket to his small chest.

  Gareth looked over at the other youth, but he was well hidden behind a tree. Turning to the smaller, nervous servant, he jerked his chin, giving silent instruction for him to move forward. As they approached the drawbridge, he slowed down.

  “Don’t look so scared, boy. You’ll give us away. We don’t want the guards to ask too many questions.”

  “I — I will try my best, sire.”

  They drew closer to the drawbridge. Just ahead of them was the horse and cart.

  “That doesn’t look like the same man who was there before,” the boy said.

  The guard walked to the side of the cart, briefly surveying the contents before waving the farmer through the gates. This would be easy, Gareth thought. Very few knights, he knew, liked manning the castle gates, so they wouldn’t bother with two kitchen helpers.

  “Halt,” the guard said, moving in front of them just as they stepped past the portcullis. He glanced over at the boy and then settled his focus on Gareth. “What have ye got there?”

  Gareth held still, his heart beating at a slow, measured tempo. His dagger was hidden underneath his cloak, but he didn’t want to use it.

  “M — mushrooms,” the boy said, saving Gareth from answering. He dipped his hand into his own basket and showed him a fistful of fungus. “For tonight’s supper.”

  The guard glanced at the mushrooms in the boy’s hand and turned his gaze once again on Gareth. But then he stepped aside and grunted. “Ye may pass,” he said, jerking his head for them to continue. Dismissing them, he focused beyond them, looking to see who else might approach.

  “That was close,” Gareth said, as they walked into the courtyard. He dug in his pouch and handed the boy a copper coin. “Find Leofwin, my page, and tell him to meet me here.”

  “Aye, sire!” the boy said, “I’ll search for him in the great hall.”

  Gareth leaned against the wall. Now he had to wait for Leofwin, and have his page deliver a message to Lord Servian. His thoughts turned to something more pleasant. Clarisse. Just thinking of her caused the tension to melt from his shoulders. Every fiber in his body knew that she was close, and his heart sang at the thought of seeing her again.

  A few minutes later, he heard running feet coming toward him. Leofwin. His page ran over to him and slumped against the wall.

  “Sire!” he said, gasping for air. “I was searching all over for you!”

  “Well, I was searching for you.”

  He shook his head impatiently as he took in another gulp of air. “You need to go to the private apartments, sire.”

  “I doubt that I’m welcomed there,” Gareth said. “Look, I want you to —”

  “Nay, you don’t understand. ‘Tis Lady Clarisse,” he said interrupting. “You need to help her!”

  Gareth paused. All thoughts about meeting with Lord Servian disappeared.

  “What are you talking about, boy?” he asked slowly.

  “The entire castle is in an uproar, and I fear that Lady Clarisse is — she’s going to — to kill herself!”

  Gareth felt as if a knife punctured his lungs. “You had better not be lying to me.”

  “Since when have I ever lied?” Leofwin asked, his eyes bright, almost feverish. “The servants spoke about it last night, about how Sir Hervey had gone to her chamber and attacked her.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “I wanted to tell you about it, but I couldn’t find you.” Lifting his head, he peered up at Gareth. “Where were you?”

  “Never mind where I was,” he said, clenching his teeth. This was the second time that she was attacked and he wasn’t there to protect her. “Tell me if Lady Clarisse is all right,” he said, his voice low.

  “She was unharmed and saved by her father, but that’s all that anyone knows. Since last night, she locked herself inside her bedchamber.” He twisted his lips as if he considered for the first time whether he should continue.

  “And?” he said, impatient to go to her. “What else do you have to tell me?”

  “I’m fond of Lady Clarisse, and I — I don’t want her to die,” he said, taking in a staggering breath. “You need to do something, sire. You may be her only hope.”

  Chapter 28

  Her only hope. That thought pounded through Gareth’s head just as he raced up the serpentine stairs. When he finally reached the landing, it was easy enough to ascertain which bedchamber belonged to Clarisse.

  A small crowd was gathered in front of her door. Lady Chantal had buried her head on her sister’s shoulder as she wailed in distress. The nursemaid stood next to them, staring helplessly at the locked chamber. Lord Servian was an arm’s length away from the women, looking paler than usual. Sir Gordon meanwhile was in deep discussion with Edgar and Hervey. No one noticed Gareth slipping quietly among them.

  “You,” Hervey turned and pointed to one of the guards, “Ram the door open!”

  The knight nodded and using his shoulder, he slammed it against the wooden panel. But the door barely shuddered.

  “Move aside,” Hervey said, making an impatient click with his tongue. He lifted his foot and slammed it down onto the oak panel. The dull thud echoed in the narrow corridor, and a small splattering of dust scattered into the air. Still the thick oaken portal stayed closed. He made a loud sound of disgust and looked away from the door. But when his eyes alighted on Gareth, they widened and then just as quickly, they narrowed into slits. “What the hell are you doing here?” he said furiously.

  Hearing the other man’s sneering voice caused the latent anger in Gareth to surface in an instant. Without saying a word, he marched boldly over to Hervey. Before he could react, Gareth drew back his fist. And as quick as an arrow whizzing through the air, he let it loose. His knuckles skidded across the other man’s jaw and slammed his body forcefully against the wall. The hall went silent as everyone stopped what they were doing and watched the fight. Slowly Hervey slumped down to the ground, an expression of dazed shock appearing on his visage.

  “What was that for?” His gaze shot past Gareth’s right shoulder. An angry flush stained his cheeks. “Sir Gordon, would you allow a guest in your home to be unjustly attacked like this?”

  Gordon frowned, but he was saved from responding when Gareth spoke up.

  “My attack on you is fully justified. You assaulted Clarisse.” His fist was still bunched, yet he restrained himself from launching it again at the man. “I should kill you now for what you’ve done.”

  “I didn’t —” Hervey began.

&
nbsp; “What attack is he talking about?” Edgar said, pushing his way to the front.

  “Sir Hervey accosted Clarisse’s in her bedchamber.” Lord Servian said gravely, sending a disapproving glance at Hervey.

  “In her bedchamber…?” Edgar repeated, shock flickering across his bronzed face. His eyes then swung over to Clarisse’s door, his face turning ashen as if he suddenly realized the reason why his sister had locked herself in her room.

  “Aye,” the lord said, the frown line near his mouth deepening. “’Tis what the knight said. Sir Hervey forced himself upon your sister.”

  Edgar’s lips thinned as he looked down at Hervey. “A good knight does not force himself upon a lady,” he said, his tone glacial.

  “Then you admit to assaulting my daughter…” Lady Chantal said, breaking away from her sister’s embrace. She looked at Hervey as if he had spouted a second head.

  “She will be married to me soon enough. I have every right to give her instruction,” Hervey said, his tone stiff.

  “You do not have this right!” Lady Chantal burst out. “’Tis because of you that my daughter has refused to come out of her bedchamber. And — and God only knows what has happened to her in there…” Her body trembled from the strength of her emotions. Hervey watched Lady Chantal as if she was a deranged creature, and he opened his mouth to say something. But Edgar cut him off, his tone low, menacing.

  “I convinced my lord father that you are an honorable knight. However your recent actions speak loudly of your true character.” His hand went to his sword hilt, gripping the handle until the whites of his knuckles showed.

  “I was within my rights. She humiliated —”

  “Silence!” Edgar bellowed, his voice echoing in the small hallway. “This marriage cannot take place. No decent knight would use his brute strength to accost a lady. We are sworn to protect the weak and helpless, not give them grief.” His eyes glinted dangerously. “Did your master not teach you this?”

  “I — I had much to drink —”

  “That reason does not excuse your behavior,” Edgar said sharply.

  Hervey held still, wisely not saying anything to further incite Edgar’s anger.

  The guards looked uneasily at one another, expecting all chaos to break loose. But Edgar showed surprising restraint. He waved a hand at the direction of Hervey and said, “Get him out of my sight.”

  Two knights jumped forward to restrain Hervey. One man grabbed one arm while a second man took the other.

  “This is an outrage,” Hervey shouted, struggling as the guards dragged him down the corridor. “My father will hear of this!”

  But then Edgar swung his eyes at Gareth. “And you,” he said, his voice hard. “Leave this place, or I will have you thrown out again. I don’t need you to meddle in our affairs.”

  “I’m not here to meddle in your concerns,” Gareth said calmly. “I’m here to make certain that Clarisse will be all right.”

  “She will not be all right,” he hissed. “Your presence here is a hindrance. If you need to be reminded, you’re to blame for all this trouble.”

  “’Twould not be trouble if I’m allowed to marry your sister,” he said simply. “But I’m here because I love her.”

  “Love,” Edgar spat in disgust. “That word is meaningless coming from a man with your reputation. You are no better than Sir Hervey.” He pointed to a guard and beckoned him forward. “See him to the gates, and make certain that he doesn’t return.”

  “Aye, sire,” his man said, moving forward.

  “Wait!” Gareth said, putting out a hand to stop him. “I will release my claim on Clarisse. All I ask is that I may speak to her — to make sure that she will not hurt herself.”

  “My sister will not listen to you or anyone else. Can you not see that her room is still barred?”

  Again, the guard moved to seize him, but Gareth was quick. He turned and before the knight knew what was happening, Gareth unsheathed the sword from his belt, and shoved him away with his foot.

  “No one is taking me anywhere,” he said, lifting his sword in front of him.

  Edgar drew out his own weapon, anger sparking in his eyes. “Do not tempt me, sire,” he said, his tone icy. “Make no mistake, I’m not afraid to kill you,”

  “Oh for heaven sake, Edgar, put away your sword!” Lady Edeline cried. She was pale and appeared as if she was about to collapse, but her words came out firm and strong. “I cannot take this any longer! Is it not enough that your sister is locked in the chamber, ready to end her life? Do you also put your life at risk?”

  The question caused Lady Chantal to gasp and turn to her sister, a fresh batch of tears spilling from her eyes. Lady Edeline put her arm around her sister, while she sent her nephew a pointed look.

  “Aye,” Lord Servian said, stepping forward. He looked tired and old. “Put away your sword, son. ‘Tis entirely too early for bloodshed. Let us see what the knight can do. Perhaps he will be able to lure Clarisse out from her chamber.”

  Even while his father addressed him, Edgar kept his eyes trained on Gareth’s face. Gareth expected him to ignore his father’s counsel and continue with the fighting. He didn’t want to hurt the knight, since his only concern was for Clarisse. Unfortunately if her family interfered, then he would fight for that privilege of connecting with her.

  “We will finish this later,” Edgar said, lowering his sword. “But I doubt that Sir Gareth can have any influence on Clarisse.” Turning to one of his armed men, he nodded at him. “Get an axe from the armory. If she doesn’t come out, we’ll force our way in.”

  “I do not think that is wise,” Gareth said, coming to stand in front of the door.

  Edgar narrowed his eyes. “Oh?”

  “Drastic measures such as this may drive her to desperation.” He leveled his regard at Edgar. There was no need to explain further. “I will speak to her.”

  Edgar looked at him as if he was about to refuse his request. But at the last moment, he nodded. “All right,” he said. “If your talk does not work, then we will do things my way.”

  But Gareth had already lost interest in the knight. Some instinct told him that Clarisse was still alive. As he turned to face the door, all he heard was the sound of his heart drumming loudly in his ears. From the onset, her family didn’t approve of him, and while he wanted to marry her, he knew that he had to stay true to his promise and let her go. Pain squeezed at his heart. He had to be content with loving her from afar. And when she married a wealthy lord, then he would wish her well.

  Placing an ear to the door, he tried to listen for movement. There was too much noise in the corridor, and he put out an arm, gesturing for everyone to be quiet.

  “Open up, Clarisse!” he yelled.

  No sound could be heard on the other side of the room, and his heart slowed as if a dagger had stabbed into it, twisting it and releasing all his life’s blood. Perhaps he was mistaken. They had wasted so much time arguing amongst themselves, and she was left alone with her despairing thoughts. He lifted a hand and slammed it down on the rough-hewn door. Leaning his forehead on the door, he slowly dropped to his knees. She was gone.

  And as if Lady Chantal knew what he was thinking, she began to whimper softly like a wounded animal. Her sister murmured something which he couldn’t quite hear.

  He closed his eyes, his face pressed against the wooden panel, trying to block out the noise in the hallway. A breath suddenly caught in his throat, and he found it difficult to breathe. An image of Clarisse lying on her bed floated to his mind’s eye. Her fair hair was spread out around her, and her beautiful eyes closed in permanent sleep.

  But then all at once he heard a rustling noise from deep within the room. His heart went still, afraid that he was only imagining things. But there it was again. And it was coming closer. His heart began to thump anew.

  “Clarisse?” he said again, although there was hope in his voice.

  “Gareth,” Clarisse answered, her voice just on the other
side of the panel. It sounded faint and tired. “Is that really you? They told me that you were gone from the castle.”

  He placed his palm on the door, imagining that she was doing the same. He felt a lump form in his throat. He finally found the woman who he loved with all his heart, and just as quickly, he had almost lost her. “I came to make sure that you were all right.”

  “Nay, Gareth, I am not all right,” her voice quivered through the closed door. “As long as I am not with you, I can never be all right,” she cried brokenly. “There is no point in living. Perhaps I — I should end it all.”

  Her wave of sorrow blasted him from the other side of the door, and he felt his eyes began to blur. Hervey made certain that he would no longer be allowed to marry Clarisse, but Lord Servian would find another man to replace him, a man who would not be Gareth. He thrust that awful thought aside. He loved her too much, he realized. He loved her more than anyone that he had ever known. But he knew that he could never have her. He couldn’t give her all that she deserved. In time, his beautiful Clarisse would grow to resent him. And with this knowledge, he knew what he had to do next. It was one of the most difficult things he would have to do, but it was for her own good. And even when he came to his decision, he felt hollow inside.

  “Clarisse,” he began slowly, “words are not my strong point. But when I speak, my words come from the center of my being.” He took a long, deep breath, his chest feeling heavy and full. “My love, you are young and strong, and you deserve to be happy. Your pretty smile brightens the darkest corners of the castle and gladden the hearts of those who know you. If you end your life, you will deny the world of your beauty, your light,” he continued, the words stumbling and choking him as they came out. “Let me believe that there is yet hope in this world.” He released a shuddering breath. “If you kill yourself, you will destroy any sense of hope for me.”