Rose Victory - Eagle Series

by Eagle Lady

  “It is an important and private matter. I can tell you no more.” The old woman pursed her lips obstinately and looked away.

  “Stay here by the cart.” Byran looked pointedly at the boy. “It is dangerous to go in among the fighting men.” The steward turned away, already half regretting his impulse to help the stubborn woman.

  The boy did not even hesitate as he followed the steward in among the training warriors. It did not seem so dangerous he thought, if you kept alert and your eyes open. Besides there were not so many of them fighting now. Almost all the soldiers were gathered near the centre of the field, where the press of bodies obscured whatever the men watched.

  The steward headed in that direction, so the boy followed, taking care to keep out of the man’s sight. Once he realised that what the men watched was the steward’s destination, he circled the ring of men and then plunged into their midst, curious now to discover what held their attention.

  Several oaths, cuffs and grumbles later, the boy managed to get through the ring of soldiers and there he again froze in alarmed stupefaction. Two giants fought against each other, without pause or respite, within the circle of men. Huge swords rose and fell in a savage, lethal and at the same time almost graceful battle-dance. The boy stared in awe as the enormous men hacked at each other, their swords flashing in the sun as they descended with deadly intent, only to be blocked or parried by raised sword or defending shield.

  “They will kill each other!”

  The boy’s alarmed whisper drew the attention of one of the soldiers beside him. “Nay, boy. They but demonstrate their skill. They are friends.”

  “Who are they?” The boy could not take his eyes off the two warriors battling in the clearing. Swift attacks and counter-attacks kept the men in constant motion, their strong muscled legs, encased in steel mail hose, taking as much strain as the massive arms wielding sword and shield.

  For a moment the soldier looked down at the boy but saw only the brown floppy hat. “You new here, boy?” he asked, and then he shrugged. “The man in the black half armour with the golden eagle on his shield is the earl; the other is the commander of his troops and our Captain, Sir Stefan.”

  The boy nodded his thanks without taking his eyes from the combatants. Now that he knew that they were not trying to kill each other, he relaxed enough to notice that they did indeed not wear full armour. Helmets did not cover their heads and only breast and back plates protected their bodies over thick, quilted gambesons.

  Just watching the straining, perspiring warriors made the boy even hotter under the scarf and the hat that shadowed his face. Conscious of the strict instructions that Nona had given him, he dragged the hat off his head and pulled the scarf down for just a moment, to cool his heated face. Then he adjusted it back just as a foul oath brought his attention back to the swordsmen. The commander half-sat, half-knelt on the ground, his sword arm lying limply to his side. Even as the boy watched, the commander’s sword slipped from his numb and useless hand to the ground.

  <><><>

  “Damn you, Stefan! I could have killed you.” The earl stood over his friend, the anger generated by the near fatal incident riding him hard. “You froze on me!”

  He had frozen, Stefan realised. Like prey caught in the stare of its hunter. He had seen Roydon’s intended blow, had even stepped back to lighten the force of the downward swing of the sword. But he had turned to stone the moment he had seen the face of the boy standing directly behind his friend. Consequently he failed to raise his sword to block the slash that would have parted his head from his shoulders.

  Only the earl’s swift reaction and superb instinct saved him. In a fraction of a second he had changed the angle of the falling blade and pivoted to the side, as the great sword cleaved the air in an unstoppable mass of hungry steel.

  The slight pivot had been just enough to hit Stefan’s sword arm instead of this head and the twisted blade slapped, rather than cut through the unprotected limb. Still the mighty blow had been enough to numb his whole arm and make him drop his sword. His arm would soon be black and blue. He had been incredibly fortunate; he still had an arm, and a head! Thanks to Roydon’s lighting fast reflexes he remained whole.

  But not for long if his friend had anything to do with it. The earl crouched down in front of him, his face livid. “What the hell were you thinking, Stefan? I very nearly killed you!”

  “I got distracted.” The sheepish reply only got the earl angrier, but it reminded Stefan of just why he had failed to react. Ignoring his friend he rose awkwardly to his feet and looked around for the boy.

  The crowd had dispersed, more to spare their commander the embarrassment than for a desire to return to their practice. He could not see the boy anywhere. “I saw a boy in the crowd…”

  “Good God, Stefan!” Roydon’s roar could be heard all over the fortress. Then clamping his mouth shut, he strode away to one of the water troughs, his anger a vibrating force around him.

  A waiting man servant helped the earl divest himself of his armour as well as his gambeson and undershirt. Nude from the waist up, Roydon plunged his head and torso into the cool water. Refreshed, but his temper still simmering, he rubbed himself dry with a cloth and drew on a fresh tunic that the servant silently handed him. The man then buckled on his sword belt and stepped back as the earl sheathed his sword as his side.

  A curt nod dismissed the silent servant as Roydon turned back to survey the field, his dark, irate gaze missing nothing. No one dared to meet his eye, no one wanted to draw his attention at this particular moment.

  “My lord?” No one that is, except Master Byran, his steward.

  “What?” The growl made Byran jump back startled and not a little frightened. The earl’s dark visage stared down at him from way up, his body a threatening mountain of muscle. His uncle Brecov, God rest his soul, had often told him that the master’s temper was worse that his bite. At this particular moment Byran did not quite believe him.

  “Well?” The earl’s frown deepened, if that were possible, at Byran’s continued silence.

  The instinct for self-preservation came to the steward’s aid. “Nothing of…of import, my lord. It can wait, sir.” Byran backed away slowly, not wanting to unleash the dark turmoil in his liege’s eyes on his head. The old woman would just have to wait.

  “Hold!”

  The one word command petrified everyone within hearing, until they realised that the steward remained the target of the earl’s unrelenting gaze. Then they continued with their tasks, unconsciously moving further away from their lord. All except Byran who stood immobile, his face bone white, in sharp contrast to his carrot orange hair and bright red ears.

  “I am not a monster, Master Byran.” Roydon attempted a smile but failed miserably, his scowl turning into a twisted grimace. “I am mad at Sir Stefan. I would not take it out on you. Now tell me your problem,” he said in an almost reasonable voice, although it echoed around the yard. “It is uncommon to find you on the training field.”

  “It’s of no import, my lord, truly…”

  A raised dark eyebrow changed the steward’s mind about the importance of his message. “An old woman has asked to see you, my lord. I do not think she is from Eagle Rock, but she might be from one of your other holdings, she will not say. What she does say is that there is a matter of import on which she requires a decision from your lordship.” Byran paused to draw breath, his face now a bright red from lack of air. Then realising what the earl’s next question would be, he hastened to add.

  “She said she could not wait for the court session two days hence; gave me the impression that she might die before then. Now I think that she does not look overly frail.”

  “You are too soft, Byran.”

  “I am sorry, sir. I will tell her to attend the court…”

  “Where is this old woman?”

  “In my cart, she is waiting at the edge of the training field. I brought her up from the village when she said she was too old to
climb…” A dimple appeared in Byran’s cheek and a crooked smile crossed his face. “I know, my lord, I am too soft but…”

  “Sometimes soft is good, Byran.” The earl’s temper appeared to have abated; at least it seemed under control. “Take me to her.” Byran almost run to keep up with his lord’s strides, as he guided him to the stationary cart.

  <><><>

  The old woman had abandoned the vehicle and now stood holding onto its side, her eyes impatiently searching the surrounding area. The moment she saw the two men approaching the woman straightened her thin, wiry frame and faced them head on. Not that her height impressed the earl, even Byran surpassed her, but her dignity and courage did draw his attention. That and her piercing blue eyes, the only source of colour on her.

  “This is his lordship, Lord Mountroi, who has graciously acceded to see you. You may state your case.” The steward used the nobleman’s official title rather than the more familiar address of Lord Roydon that the castle retainers were permitted to use.

  The woman nodded sharply at the introduction and then proceeded to examine the earl from his booted feet to the top of his head, more than a foot and a half above her own head. She lingered for a long moment on his face, his eyes. Then she seemed to come to a decision, which she kept to herself.

  Roydon’s surprise did not show on his face. The ancient woman had courage, he’d give her that, not many people would have given him the thorough examination he had just received and come out unscathed. A slight smile lifted his lips. “What can I do for you, Grandmother?”

  “My name is Nona,” the woman did not seem to like the honorary title too well. “I have come to bring you the boy.”

  “The boy?” Roydon looked around in vain.

  “He has grown too big and I can no longer control him. He needs a man’s hand now.”

  “I do not understand. Is this boy your grandson?” the earl asked, puzzled.

  “No, he is yours. You must take him in. It is time.”

  “Ah, I understand, he is the child of one of my serfs. I take care of what is mine; you did not have to come to me for this. My steward will take care of the matter.” Roydon turned to Byran. “Foster the boy to a…”

  “He is no serf, my lord.”

  The steward frowned at the woman’s interruption but the earl took it in stride. “Very well, he is the son of a freeman; I still do not allow orphans on my land to starve or be neglected. A place shall be found for…”

  “He is no orphan either.” This time the old woman’s voice sounded soft and almost sweet.

  “Then why bring him here, woman?” Byran’s exasperation tumbled out, both for her discourtesy to his lord at her interruptions and her now unreasonable request.

  “His mother had to leave when he was but a year old and he has never known his father.” Strangely enough, no sadness marred the old woman’s face, rather an expectant half smile settled on her lips.

  The earl, who had up to now managed to control his temper, was now in imminent danger of losing his patience. “I understand the boy is not an orphan. Nevertheless if you can no longer take care of him and his parents are not available then…”

  For a third time the woman interrupted the earl. “His father is…available. You must take care of him.”

  Roydon lost it. “You want me to search out the father and force the child on him? Are you mad woman?” The earl tried to calm himself.

  It did not help that just at that moment Sir Stefan came up beside him. His still numb and useless right arm protectively cradled in his left. “Roydon, you will not believe what…”

  “Not now Stefan!” the earl growled at his friend, remembering that he still felt like throttling him.

  “But…”

  “Later!” The earl shouted in exasperation. He turned to the old woman. “Enough of this nonsense. You will leave the boy here and his needs will be seen to.” His edict delivered, the earl made to turn away.

  A small wrinkled hand on his arm detained him. “But he is yours, my lord.”

  Roydon’s eyes nearly rolled up in his head. “I believe we have already established that I am responsible for the child.” The earl had just a little bit of patience left. “My people will see to him.”

  Nona shook her head, “It is your duty to see to him, sir.”

  The three men stared in dumbfounded disbelief at the old woman; that she dared to speak so to the earl, dared to tell him his duty… She had not finished.

  “He is yours. As your son, it is your duty to see to him.” A deathly silence greeted the woman’s last words.

  Roydon could not believe his ears. For a heart stopping second, the announcement filled him with such incredible, blinding joy that he thought he would burst with the sheer magic of the moment. Then common sense took over and cold rage wrapped its fingers around his heart. “Where was he conceived?”

  “Here at Eagle Rock.” Nona’s voice sounded firm and confident.

  “How old is the boy?” The earl’s voice, cold and implacable, reflected the expression in his eyes.

  “Nine, my lord.”

  “Then the boy is not mine.” Roydon bit the words out, one at a time. The finality in his tone brooked no argument or further discussion. “Stefan, please see to the removal of this woman from my lands, now.”

  Dissention came from the last person that Roydon could ever have imagined. “Are you sure, Roy?” Stefan drew his stiff, unyielding friend to the side, his voice a low whisper. “A maid? A village girl?”

  Roydon looked at Stefan incredulously, but the concern he saw in his eyes stopped him from lashing out at him. “I am sure. I married almost ten years ago, Stefan and never once did I even consider the possibility of bringing shame on my wife in her own home. I did not love her, but she had my respect, and honour was her life. I would never have brought dishonour to her after all she gave me.”

  Stefan nodded; his friend’s word more than enough for him, but a perplexed look remained on his face. “Then who is that boy?”

  “I don’t know and I don’t particularly care. Now let us end this farce.”

  “But the boy looks exactly like you, Roy!”

  “Stefan’s words stopped the earl in mid-step. He swung back. “When have you seen this boy? Why have you not told me before?” It said much for the earl’s total trust in his friend that he did not doubt that Stefan had seen a boy that resembled him.

  “I only saw him for a moment when we were fighting. That’s what distracted me, why I froze. The boy looks exactly like you, Roy. I do not understand it.” Stefan paused for a moment remembering. “He did seem older though, more like ten or eleven.” He cocked an eyebrow at Roydon, the question obvious.

  “No, I did not come home for almost two years before my marriage. The king kept us very busy, remember?

  “Yes.” Then a new idea struck Stefan. “Could he be your father’s?”

  “Good Lord, Stefan! You would give me a brother now?”

  “I swear, Roy, the boy is your living image. I nearly died being a witness to it.” Stefan rubbed his arm ruefully.

  The earl came to a decision. “Find the boy, Stefan. He must be here somewhere. Then bring him up to the Hall. We will continue this discussion in private.”

  Stefan nodded and turned quickly away, calling soldiers to him as he did so. Roydon then addressed his steward, ignoring the man’s puzzled expression. “Take the woman up to the Hall and don’t let her out of your sight until I get there. Do you understand me?” The earl planned to get to the bottom of this.

  “Yes, my lord.”

  The old woman said nothing until Byran had helped her into the cart, then just as the horse pulled away; she turned to face the earl. “He is yours. Remember.”

  Then it struck Roydon like the first impact of a mounted battle charge. It could not be. It had been just the one night. It did not seem possible and yet… By the time the earl came to his senses the cart had already disappeared from view.

  With all sorts
of questions hammering at his brain, the earl made haste to get to the Hall. Yet by the time he arrived he felt reluctant to question the old woman. First he would see the boy, determine if Stefan’s report really lived up to the boy’s likeness. Then he would ask the pertinent questions.

  He could not allow himself to hope for the near impossible, for if he did and it proved false, he knew he would never recover. The possibility of having a half grown son from that wondrous night, the possibility that he could find his lady again…

  Ruthlessly, Roydon trampled down his half conceived imaginings and tried to clear his mind. His black eyes fixed on the huge wooden doors; he sat unmoving at the Lord’s Table. Occasionally his gaze flickered to the stone hearth, where the old woman sat on a low stool. Beside her, as if on guard, stood Byran mindful of his lord’s terse command, he did not take his eyes from the woman. Roydon returned his gaze to the door.

  Each time the door opened, the earl’s hands would clench in expectation and then slowly relax at each successive false alarm. The last person to arrive, Ivan, looked carefully round the Hall until he saw his lord at the table, then he made haste towards him.

  “We have found the boy, my lord.” Clearly, from the questioning look in his eyes, he had no idea of the recent events. “Sir Stefan is bringing him up.” Any other time Ivan would have cheerfully asked questions, even of his liege, but Roydon’s expression remained too closed, too impassive to encourage questions. The tension in the Hall seemed almost tangible. Ivan stepped back behind his lord’s chair. He knew not what caused the strain but if his lord needed him, he would be there for him.

  The moment Stefan walked into the Hall Roydon rose slowly to his feet. The boy who followed his friend stopped on the threshold and looked curiously, wonderingly around. Then his gaze fixed on the old woman by the fireplace, he run towards her.

  “I am sorry, Nona. I did not mean to wander.” The boy’s words tumbled over each other in his eagerness to deliver them. “But I saw these two men, giants they were Nona, fighting with enormous swords and then one was nearly killed and everybody run away. Then I saw soldiers shooting arrows and I wondered if I could do it too. There were knights on huge horses and…”