by Eagle Lady
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Stefan felt just about ready to kill someone; preferably the king’s aide, who even now stood in front of the closed doors to the audience chamber. The arrogant fool who controlled access to His Majesty categorically refused him admittance. He had tried everything from cajoling to threats, in order to get the man to allow him to see the king. It had all been in vain. After the last attempt, when the aide actually called upon the guards to dissuade him, Stefan had to retreat back into the frivolous crowd around him.
A crowd that Stefan had had to tolerate since the king started his audiences early this morning. The sun had already started on its downward journey and he was getting absolutely nowhere.
He could do nothing else. Roydon had been locked up for nearly three days now; he would have to approach the king when he left the audience chamber. It would be a risky proposition with both his honour guard and his bodyguards surrounding him.
Slowly, unobtrusively, Stefan made his way towards the outer doors through the thongs of richly dressed courtiers and their ladies. There were fewer people here and hopefully the guards would relax somewhat. It could not be too long now.
No sooner did Sir Stefan get into position, than a commotion from the other end of the room herald the appearance of the king. From his great height the knight could easily see over the heads of the crowd that stood between him and the man he desperately needed to speak to. These people obviously knew his Majesty’s routine when he held audiences. The crowd parted leaving an open path in front of the king and his escort leading to the outer doorway, where Stefan waited. Four soldiers of the king’s guard armed with pikes fell into step on either of their liege, while the four men of the Royal Bodyguard surrounded him, two in front and two behind the king.
Sir Stefan didn’t dare to think about what he attempted. He just waited, his eyes fixed on his objective. Then when the leading pike man was just a pace away from him, the knight darted forward.
Keeping his hands well away from his body, and his weapons, Stefan stepped right in front of the two leading bodyguards and dropped down on one knee. He kept his head up. His only chance to avoid instant death would be if the guards recognized him.
The reaction to the perceived threat by the two leading bodyguards surprised even Stefan. Two swords were drawn and pointing at his throat almost before his knee hit the floor. The choked ‘Sir Stefan’ from one of them completely drowned out by the angry, alarmed shout of the leading pike man behind him. The latter’s reaction, though slower than that of the bodyguards, turned out to be much more deadly. He thrust his weapon forward aimed directly at the kneeling man’s back.
The swift reaction of one of the bodyguards saved Stefan’s life. A sharp swing of one of the swords at his throat diverted the lethal pike from its target, pushing it to the side to carve a bloody furrow down the knight’s arm.
Stefan did not move. After saving his life the sword had returned to join its twin at his throat. “The only reason that you are still alive is because I recognised you.” The guard’s voice deepened with anger, the courtesy and respect due his commander totally lacking. “What the hell do you think you are doing?”
The knight raised an eyebrow at the man, a ghost of a smile flirting across his face. “I am glad that you remember me, Tom.” Stefan’s eyes shifted across to the other bodyguard, whose sword tip had not wavered from his neck. “John. I only wanted a word with the king.” He remained immobile, ignoring the pain in his arm and the blood dripping onto the floor.
“Good God, sir! We could have killed you.”
“Stand back! What is going on?” The king pushed through the two soldiers to stare down at Stefan. The sound of his voice seemed to be the signal for the crowd to return to life after the moments of paralyzed horror at the incident. The circle of soldiers around Henry and Stefan offered the only calm in the chaotic upheaval of the room.
Stefan bowed his head to his sovereign and then he raised clear, brown eyes to lock with the king’s. “I beg a moment of your time, Sire,” a hint of desperation appeared in his gaze.
“There are easier and less lethal ways of gaining my attention,” Henry looked at the dripping blood, “an audience for example.” The king seemed intrigued by the wounded man who still knelt at his feet with two sword tips at his throat.
“I couldn’t wait, Sire. I…”
“Who are you?” the king interrupted.
“Sir Stefan Thane, Sire, but…”
Again Henry interrupted, “Can anyone here vouch for him?”
“We can, Sire.” The bodyguard who had saved his life gestured to the rest of his companions with his free hand. “He is our commander, Your Majesty.”
“Your commander!” the king exclaimed, clearly taken aback. Then his eyes narrowed, their piercing gaze settling on Stefan. “Just what exactly is going on here?”
“I am vassal to the earl of Eagle Rock, Sire. I wish to inquire why he has been arrested. I can assure Your Majesty that…”
For the third time the king interrupted. “Detained,” Henry stated loudly, for more than just Stefan’s ears.
Stefan looked up in confusion. “Detained, arrested? What’s the difference?”
“There is a great difference, I assure you, Sir Stefan.” Henry waved his guards back at last and gestured for the knight to rise.
Stefan did so quickly afraid that he would be dismissed before he could get any information. “About the earl, Your Majesty. May I inquire as to why he has been…detained? I assure you that he is innocent of whatever charges have been brought against him.”
“Would you stake your life on it?”
Henry’s question brought Stefan up short but he did not hesitate to answer. “Without a single doubt, Sire. Roydon’s loyalty in unquestionable.”
King Henry cocked his head to the side. “You risk much for your lord, Sir Stefan.”
“I am honoured to call him friend as well as lord, Sire,” Stefan replied simply.
Henry stood thoughtfully for a moment and then he nodded. “Walk with me to the stables, Sir Stefan. I am expected there and can only spare you a moment. ”
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“Do you think Father is being held in irons, Sir Ivan?” At last Aguilus managed to ask the question that had been going round and round in his head since he heard of the earl’s arrest.
Sensing the worry in the boy’s question, Ivan looked up sharply from the nearly finished wood carving he held in his hand. “Of course he is not. Prisoners are held according to their rank. His lordship is probably in a room very similar to this one. You saw how they came for more of his things yesterday and they brought back his armour as well.”
Aguilus rubbed the shiny metal breastplate that lay half on his lap, half on the floor where he sat cleaning it. “I just miss him. There will be no one to look after him.”
Ivan smiled to himself as he watched the boy continue to buff an already spotlessly clean piece of armour. If there existed anyone who didn’t need looking after, the earl of Eagle Rock sprang immediately to mind. “I am sure he has a servant to see to him,” he said out loud. “And I did give you leave to call me Ivan when we are alone.” The knight tried to distract the boy.
Aguilus glanced up quickly at Ivan who sat on the bench by the narrow window. “Sorry, I forgot.” A faint, almost shy smile crossed his face. “Does that mean that we are friends?”
“I hope so.” Ivan tossed the small wood carving he had fashioned with his dagger at the boy. “Have that as a token of our friendship. I know you like eagles.”
Aguilus turned the gift over in his hand. “It’s beautiful, Ivan.” The boy rubbed his fingers over the small sculpture of an eagle with wings outspread and proudly held head. “It reminds me of Father, thank you.”
Silence reigned in the earl’s chambers for several moments before Aguilus spoke up again, a tentative note in his voice. “Ivan, could we go to see the horses?”
The young knight shook his head. “We have to wait for Sir S
tefan. He is going to make another attempt to see the king.”
“It will only be for a moment. Please, I…I need to see Black. If I cannot see Father…I would like to see his horse.”
Ivan could almost feel the boy bravely holding back his tears. He too felt afraid for the earl, but he wasn’t a nine year old boy who’s newly discovered father was in danger of disappearing again. He came to a decision. “Very well, we will go down to the stables for a moment.
“Really, we can go?” Aguilus surreptitiously wiped a solitary tear from his cheek. “Now, Ivan. Can we go now?” he had already climbed to his feet.
“The sooner we go, the sooner we will be back. I will leave a message with the guard outside in case Sir Stefan returns.” Ivan got up and buckled on his sword. “Let’s go.”
Sir Ivan and Aguilus arrived at the stables to find it in a state of controlled chaos. A mounted troop of soldiers occupied most of the stable yard. Off to one side grooms and stable boys had charge of a dozen or so saddled horses. Just outside the stable a group of courtiers had assembled surrounded by their attendants. Aguilus saw two boys running across the yard, darting through the crowded area they narrowly missed the cuffs aimed their way, as they headed for the stables. Conversely, no one paid the least attention to the young knight and his companion as they slipped into the building.
In comparison to the commotion outside, the stable itself seemed quiet and almost deserted. A few horses still occupied several of the stalls and a soft mumble of voices could be heard from the far end of the long building.
Ivan made for the nearby stalls where his own and the squire’s horse had been accommodated. “Aguilus, you go and check on Black and Sir Stefan’s Troll. Don’t be long and don’t even think of going into their stalls or touching them,” he instructed seriously.
“I will only look in on them, Sir Ivan,” replied the boy, conscious of the order in the softly spoken words. He hurried down the centre aisle between the wooden stalls, towards the back of the building.
Aguilus felt better just knowing that he would see his father’s horse. He had not been allowed out of their chambers since their arrival and the mid afternoon sun and the fresh air had felt good. In the stables the light coming in through the high set windows had started to fade as the sun begun its downward journey.
As he neared Black’s stall, Aguilus could see the two boys that he had seen running about outside, standing outside the enclosure. In the silence he had no trouble hearing their words.
“I am braver than you. I can do it, I’m not afraid.” The smaller of the two boys poked a finger belligerently at the other boy’s chest.
The smaller one, Aguilus could now see, wore a page-like costume with hose, a too big tunic and a lumpy skull cap. The bigger boy, by his attire, was obviously a stable boy. About ten or eleven years old, still he allowed himself to be manhandled by the slight figure in the skull cap, who could easily be at least three years younger.
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” the bigger boy whimpered, falling back from that raised finger. Aguilus actually heard a tremor of fear in the boy’s voice. Although he had no idea what the boys were talking about he found it strange that the stable boy should show such fear of the slight, almost delicate looking younger boy. A challenge appeared to have been issued and now the older boy seemed to be seriously regretting his action.
“I’ll show you!” The determined high pitched voice reverberated across the stable, and Aguilus watched in horror as the smaller boy climbed the slats of Black’s stall and threw a leg over the top of the gate.
Even as Aguilus rushed forward, a warning on his lips, he saw the page jump down into Black’s stall. The boy must be mad; the warhorse would trample him to death! By the time he reached Black’s stall he could already hear the stable boy shouting for help as he run towards the yard.
A moment later Aguilus clung to the top of the gate of Black’s stall. The enormous warhorse must have been taken by surprise by the sudden appearance of the page, for only now did he react to the boy’s presence.
With an angry scream, the massive animal rose on its hind legs, its iron shod hooves pounding the air. To a knight, his horse if properly trained, could be as much a weapon as his sword and Black, Aguilus knew, had been very well trained. He had seen for himself, not a few days ago in the forest, what the destrier could do when controlled by his master. But the earl was not here now.
The page, seeing those lethal hooves descending towards him, screamed in terror but managed to scramble from under them and crouch against the far side of the stall. The hooves crushed down on the earthen floor a scant moment after the boy had scrambled away. The horse followed the page’s rapid movement, his eyes wild and fierce.
Aguilus did not hesitate. He had to draw the animal’s attention away from the boy or he would not survive the next few seconds. Even as he dropped into the stall he heard Sir Stefan’s shout for him to stop from behind him. But Black already prepared to rear up again over the page and this time there would be no escape. The page crouched down on the floor, curled into himself, his arms held protectively over his head, a small frightened whimper escaped his lips.
Aguilus slapped Black’s hind quarters as hard as he could to draw the horse’s attention. He succeeded. The animal wheeled around to face the new threat. Without his master’s presence in the saddle to control him, the horse was angry, scared, and deadly.
The squire suddenly faced a terrified, angry warhorse. In that small, enclosed space the animal seemed really huge. Eyes rolling in his sockets, ears flat on his head and big yellow teeth bared, the horse towered over him ready to smash him into the ground.
Aguilus did the only thing he could think of. He remembered the way his father had controlled the horse that day in the forest. He raised his hand quickly and brought it down, as hard as he could, on Black’s nose. At the same time shouting, using as commanding a voice as he could manage in the circumstances.
“HOLD!” The squire’s authoritative command echoed in the silent stable. Aguilus didn’t know where he had found the strength to deliver it. His throat seemed as dry as the moat outside his father’s castle and his legs threatened to collapse at any moment, but Black responded to the command. He even seemed to welcome it, as he lowered his huge head submissively, although his eyes still rolled nervously.
“Rub his face firmly and at the same time push his head down.” The instructions came from directly behind Aguilus and the boy gave a heartfelt sigh of relief as he felt Sir Stefan step up slowly behind him.
The calm, steady voice continued, “Keep doing that, you are doing very well.” Next Stefan spoke to the page that still huddled against the wall. “You, boy!” and when he had the lad’s attention he instructed just as softly. “Get up very slowly and walk along the wall to the gate. Make no sudden movements”
As the boy got up, Stefan tightened his hold on the hilt of the naked sword he held behind his back. His other hand clutched Aguilus’ shoulder. At the slightest indication that the horse would rebel, he stood ready to push the boy behind him and deal with the horse.
Slowly the page made his way carefully round the stall. Clearly frightened, the young boy nevertheless controlled his fear as he crept towards the exit. A few moments later he left the stall through the half open gate.
“Your turn Aguilus,” Sir Stefan’s voice remained rock steady. “Back away very slowly, get behind me and leave the stall.”
Aguilus did not hesitate to obey. After a firm pat and a whispered ‘Good boy’ to the horse, he backed away.
Sir Stefan remained in place, his gaze concentrated on the animal until Aguilus had left, then he too backed slowly out, shutting the gate firmly behind him. Then all hell broke loose outside the stall.
“What did you think you were doing jumping into that stall?” Sir Stefan’s calm control had completely disappeared; his fair complexion had turned a mottled red. “You could have been killed in there!”
“I am sorry, Sir S
tefan, truly I am, but I couldn’t let Black trample the page.” Aguilus spoke quietly, aware that the knight’s anger stemmed from his concern for him. “He is just a little boy.” Aguilus looked round and realised that he stood in the centre of a small group of men. Men who were all looking at him strangely. The page, he saw, stood behind a tall soldier in an attempt to draw as little attention to himself as possible.
There were five men standing around him apart from Sir Stefan and a mortified looking Sir Ivan, who tried to keep himself very much in the background. Four of the men were clearly soldiers but the other…was not. Of average height, dressed in simple riding attire and older than the others, the fifth man seemed to command them all. Just as when his father stood among a group of men, his poise and confidence left no doubt as to who was in charge.
That man spoke now, his piercing grey eyes staring in disbelief at Aguilus. “Good Lord! It’s not possible.” His eyes swivelled to Sir Stefan. “Who is he?”
“This is Aguilus, Sire.” The pride in Stefan’s voice rang out loud and clear, “Son and squire to Lord Roydon de Mountroi of Eagle Rock.”
Aguilus drew himself up proudly as the older man’s eyes returned to him. “They look exactly alike!”
“I have my father’s nose,” Aguilus asserted with complete confidence, only to receive a quelling look from Sir Stefan.
“He has more than his nose.” The king looked enquiringly at the knight. “Mountroi’s bastard?”
Stefan’s lips tightened for a moment. “His illegitimate son, Sire, yes.”
“Father says that you are not what people call you, but what you make of yourself.” Aguilus informed the man who he now realised by Sir Stefan mode of address, must be the king.
Stefan turned a chilling glare on the squire. “Do not speak without leave. Now pay your respects to His Majesty.” For a moment Stefan didn’t know if the boy would do as he instructed or if he would start lecturing the king on his father’s innocence. In the end the boy bowed deeply to the king, but it remained obvious that he desperately wanted to say something.