by David Wind
All his vassals, from serfs to men-at-arms, respected his demands of them, and knew that for them he would always be available to help and protect them.
But, for the first time since Miles had become Earl of Radstock, and since his marriage to the Lady Gwendolyn, few people saw him. Jokes about his marriage, and the time he spent with his lady, were the usual conversations within the castle when Miles was not present. For Miles, except rarely, was only seen at night for a few hours. He had left the running of his lands to those men of his household he trusted implicitly, primarily his bastard brother Theodore, who, with Miles now married, would soon enter into the simplistic life of a monastery.
But the reason for Miles's absence from most eyes was far from what the people thought. And, the few pleasurable hours Miles and Gwendolyn shared together in view of the others of the household were but a fraction of their day together. Yet, though many believed the newlyweds saw each other for so little, in reality, Miles, Gwendolyn, James, and Arthur, spent many long and arduous hours together.
They would rise long before the sun, and after eating a light repast, would venture into the privacy of a portion of the wooded land near the castle, to begin a day that, had any other eyes witnessed it, would cause a furor among both peasant and nobility.
But no one, save the four present, ever witnessed the events-and because of that, Gwendolyn's training in the knightly arts proceeded smoothly.
Shortly after the lord's arrival in Radstock with his wife, and after the week's celebration in honor of it, Miles had given orders to have a special chamber built, deep beneath the earthworks of the castle. It was more a huge pit than a room. Its only light came from burning torches, but that light was sufficient for the purposes intended.
The building of this chamber would take six months, and because of both time and Gwendolyn's impatience, Miles had taken his wife from Radstock a bare month after they'd arrived. They went to his lands in Wales, to a place far from the regular roads, and almost inaccessible to any who knew not where they were.
It was the castle of his great-great-grandfather, Bornmorwyn of Abergavenny, who, because of his strangely perverse nature, and his hatred of all things Norman, had hidden his castle-keep high in the hills overlooking the river Wye. The old stone-and-bailey castle was far from any life, and because of its seclusion, offered the best opportunity to train Gwendolyn.
So the newly married couple, along with their twin squires, Gwendolyn's personal servant, and ten members of Miles's household staff made the five-day journey into Wales, just as the summer grew to its most fierce some intensity.
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The procession moved on solemnly, cresting yet another hill before stopping. Gwendolyn, breathing the sweetly scented air of the valley, gazed with wonder at its emerald expanses.
"It is so different from Devonshire and Radstock," she said. "So mountainous, so filled with life."
"You will learn to hate it," Miles warned her with a stern look.
"Because of what you have in store for me?" "Exactly. "
"You do not frighten me, Husband. I have waited all my life for this," she whispered fiercely.
Miles raised his arm, his index finger pointing high and to the south. "Do you see that peak?"
Gwendolyn followed the direction of his pointing finger, letting her eyes race along the mountains, going higher and higher, until at last she was staring at the highest peak in the valley. Far above her, she saw a small dark speck on its crest.
"And the keep upon it," she answered. "That is our destination."
It was an awesome sight, one that might leave another breathless and not a little in fear. But Gwendolyn, gazing at Miles, smiled her secret smile.
They had traversed half the distance to the keep when night fell. A tent was quickly erected for Miles and Gwendolyn, and food prepared. Later, Miles and Gwendolyn walked in the night beneath a myriad of stars and were silent, content with themselves and the peace they had found.
But when Miles turned back to their tent, Gwendolyn stopped him. "I know this is difficult for you to accept, and I will never be truly able to offer thanks for this gift you have given me."
Miles had never spoken of that day by the cave, but he had thought about it a great deal. His family had been a part of this land from time immemorial, and although Christianity had grown strong in England, the old beliefs had not fled the way the Christians had wanted and demanded. Because of that, and because of his heritage, Miles could not deny what had happened at Gwendolyn's cave. Yet, it had taken him a long time to adjust to the idea that his wife was not just a woman, that she was far more than that. His love, and the powerful desires that had filled him from the moment he'd met her, had not diminished, and by the time they'd left Radstock and started on this very journey, he'd accepted what his wife was, and knew he must help her.
"And what of our children?" he asked in a low voice. "We will have strong, powerful children to carry on in the future," Gwendolyn assured him.
"I mean, what if you are now with child? Will you give up your training?"
"I am not with child, nor will I be until the proper time.
But fret not, for we shall leave our mark on this land for untold generations yet to come," she promised him, and Miles could not but believe her.
"Come, Husband, it is time for our sleep." She whispered, but Miles heard within her voice, not the call for sleep, but the call for a sharing of themselves, as they had almost every night since their first joining.
Silently, they entered the tent, undressed, and came together on the softness of the rush mat beneath them. Their lovemaking was strong and swift this time. Miles entered her quickly, his passion strong and urgent, made so by the unrest in his mind.
Afterward, with Miles's head resting on her breast, and her hand stroking his hair gently, Gwendolyn thought about the future, and about the hard days ahead.
It was almost dawn when she fell into a light sleep, but when she and Miles were awakened by Arthur, she rose refreshed and expectant, knowing that this day would be her last as Gwendolyn. On the morrow, when she woke again in the high keep, she would be treated by all as a man, and as a knight-in-training.
But for Miles, this night's sleep had left him unrefreshed.
He had dreamed deeply and had awakened long before Gwendolyn, his mind filled with the pictures he had seen. He was reluctant to move yet, and while he lay on her soft breast, the very core of his dream seemed to help soothe his mind about what he would be doing with his wife. He had dreamed of Gwendolyn astride a black stallion, dressed in full armor, her silver sword flashing brightly above her head. Valkyrie flew in the air over her, and everything about the dream picture seemed right-even the voice he'd heard, an ancient old voice telling him his feet had been set on this path years ago, and that nothing could change what must happen. Everything he did was preordained, the voice had said, and it was important he accept this and trust in himself and in Gwendolyn.
While he lay silently during the minutes before the dawn, he thought of the dream, and by the time Arthur came to rouse them, Miles realized that his anxiety and fears were gone. It was then he knew it had been a sign for him, and rather than question further his motives in training Gwendolyn, he banished all doubts and began to look forward to the task.
That afternoon, they reached the old keep. Its very prominence took Gwendolyn's breath away, and she did not care that Miles gazed at her humorously. The old keep was surrounded by a half-filled moat, and the barbican across from them was but a high gatehouse. The bridge was fixed, but in bad repair. Yet the outer bailey, which they slowly passed through, was completely walled. Its smooth green expanse had grown wild, but within days, it would again be under control.
The procession stopped at the entrance to the old castle- keep, and Miles dismounted. He walked to his wife and brought her down to him. Together they went to the large, closed door. The wood seemed ageless, but the bolts that secured it were badly discolored.
Miles sighed loudly and tried to open one. It would not budge. He turned sideways and lunged against the heavy wood. Gwendolyn jumped when his shoulder touched the door, but stopped when she heard a protesting groan. Before everyone's unbelieving eyes, the giant door shifted, and, as its aged and rotted leather hinges shredded, the door collapsed inward.
"You have great strength my husband," Gwendolyn said, trying not to let her smile break forth.
"So it appears," Miles replied dryly, shaking his head.
"Come, let us see what other miracles await us within." Saying that, he took Gwendolyn's hand and led her inside.
At first, Gwendolyn stared helplessly at the stone walls.
They were in terrible disrepair, on the brink of ruination, but after a few moments, she realized that Miles had indeed chosen wisely. For there would be no petty barons who would storm this keep, hoping to gain lands for themselves. This was a forgotten place to most, and few of the curious would come to pay visits.
By mid-afternoon, the keep hummed with life, as Miles and Gwendolyn ordered their vassals about in an effort to make the place habitable.
By nightfall their chamber had been prepared by Roweena, who had cleaned and dusted it as best she could. There was no wood-and-rush bed, but Roweena had doubled the thickness of the mat, so that the endlessly cold stone floor would not bother Miles and Gwendolyn overmuch.
That night, the small retinue feasted together upon the grass of the inner bailey. A fire roared comfortingly, and even its haunting reflections upon the old stone walls did not dampen anyone's mood.
When the meal was over, Miles stood and gazed down at the dozen faces before him. Taking a deep breath, he began to speak. "Tomorrow morning, I want everyone to begin work on the keep. Lady Gwendolyn and I will be gone for one week. When we return, I expect to find a habitable dwelling. Concentrate on the kitchen and the chambers," he said. Then, he turned to Arthur. "Go to Abergavenny, and to Lord Skinfrith's keep. I have already sent word you will be coming. Return here with all that awaits you," he said.
He extended his hand to Gwendolyn, who rose quickly and stepped to her husband's side. They walked away together, and when Roweena rose to follow, Miles turned to her. "We have no need for you tonight," he said.
Roweena stopped and looked at her mistress. Gwendolyn nodded her head in agreement with Miles, and Roweena returned to the fire and the sleeping mats that were being laid out by the other servants.
A few minutes later, Miles and Gwendolyn entered the chamber they would be sharing for many months. Within its torch lit confines, Gwendolyn saw two new bundles. She walked over to them while Miles removed his surcoat.
"Miles?" she asked as she knelt to inspect the covered piles.
Miles did not reply, but merely nodded his head. Gwendolyn lifted the light coverings and gasped. Beneath the skins were two identical piles. On top of each were a shortsword, a bow, and a dagger. Beneath the weapons were gamboise, chausses, and cuirbouilli scale armor. When Gwendolyn was finished inspecting these, she looked back at Miles.
"Are you ready now, my lady?" he asked. "Now?"
"We start tonight. When everyone is asleep we shall leave. We will return in a week, and when we do, we shall send everyone, save James and Arthur, back to Radstock. No one must know what is happening."
"Roweena must stay. She will never speak of this."
"Can we chance it? She is still a servant. You trust her that much?" Miles asked.
"I trust her with my life. Roweena will never tell of what she witnesses."
"It could cost you your life if she does."
"She will not!"
"So be it," Miles declared. Then, with a sigh, he crossed the distance separating them, and took Gwendolyn into his arms. Her breasts were crushed against his chest, and the sudden spark of desire that rose within him was hard to push aside.
Gwendolyn sensed his reaction and kissed him deeply.
Within her, too, desire coursed wildly, but even as she accepted this and opened her mouth to him, Miles drew back.
"What?" she asked, troubled by his withdrawal. "It is not the time. We must dress."
Gwendolyn stared at him. "So be it," she replied.
First Miles dressed Gwendolyn. He had Gwendolyn stand naked before him and he put on her loincloth, and as he did so, he explained everything in the minutest detail. Then, with the loincloth in place, he lifted another strip of material.
"Your breasts must be bound, for I would see no harm come to them," he whispered, as he gazed at her dark-tipped breasts for a moment. He draped the cloth across her back, and then crisscrossed it over her breasts, catching each full mound of flesh within the material, and then binding them tightly, pressing them as flat as possible against her chest.
He lifted a short tunic and handed it to Gwendolyn. She put it on quickly, adjusting it, and smoothing it until it hung properly. When she looked down, she saw its hem reached barely to mid-thigh,
When Miles lifted the cuirbouilli, he smiled at her. "This was my first scale armor. My father had it made for me when I was fourteen." He unbuckled one side and put it over Gwendolyn's chest. When it was buckled, Gwendolyn was protected from her neck to the top of her thighs. The scale armor was made of wax-dipped leather, and its burnished color and deep-gouged scars told Gwendolyn much of Miles's early training.
Next Miles put on the cuirbouilli cuisses, the waxed leather pads that would protect her thighs. When that was done, he knelt before her and laced on the first of the maille she would be wearing. The chausses were in good condition, and their dark metallic color shone under the torchlight. Miles laced them until they reached her knees, where they stopped. When both legs were done, Miles stood. The only thing left was the heavy coif-de-maille, and that would wait until he was dressed.
Stepping back, Miles inspected Gwendolyn and took a deep breath as he did. She stood proudly, her shoulders straight, her head high as she met his gaze with her own. Already, she looked like a fighter. Her height was emphasized by the armor, and for the first time since he'd met her, Miles suddenly believed she would indeed become a knight.
"Do I look so strange?" Gwendolyn asked after a few more moments under his silent scrutiny.
"Not strange—powerful," he whispered. "Come," he said in a louder voice. "Now you must do the duties of the squire."
Gwendolyn nodded once, and went to Miles's armor. His pile was similar to hers, except that he had no scale armor. Instead, he had chosen a short hauberk of maille. A half hour later, Miles was dressed. Then, he put on Gwendolyn's coif-de-maille and attached it to the leather armor. Next, he put on her shortsword, then her dagger, and finally attached the bow to her back.
"Why a bow?" she wondered aloud, knowing that a knight never fought with such a weapon.
"To learn its use and to eat. What would you catch our food with? Or do you think a fast of a week will aid your strength?"
"We take no supplies?" she asked, surprised at his words. "None," he declared, slipping his shortsword into its scabbard.
Gwendolyn went over to Valkyrie's perch. She slipped on the leather wristband and extended her arm. Valkyrie gazed at her unblinking. She held her arm before him for a moment, until the large eagle finally lifted one clawed foot from its wooden perch and ascended onto her wrist.
Ready at last, Gwendolyn turned to Miles. Silently, he pushed aside the tapestry that was their door. They stepped into the old passageway and descended to the inner keep, where they walked silently past the sleeping servants, until they reached the barbican.
The night was clear, and the multitude of stars looked like a jeweled heaven. The moon was absent this night, but the stars themselves lighted the land and illuminated a path for Miles and Gwendolyn.
They descended the incline and walked along the sparsely treed path leading down into the Valley of Wye. An hour later, Miles changed direction, leading Gwendolyn through another, more narrow path. Then they were in a forest, and the further they walked, the darker it became
. Gwendolyn felt only excitement run through her veins as she luxuriated within the feel of the armor. For the first time, Valkyrie rode on her now-protected shoulder, freeing her arm. One hand rested on the hilt of her sword, while the other swung free, enabling her to move swiftly along the rocky terrain.
The maille covering her head did not bother her, nor did the unfamiliar binding that held her breasts so securely. Her eyes never strayed from Miles's broad back, and her feet maintained their balance perfectly.
"Miles," she whispered, speaking for the first time since they started out three hours before. Miles stopped and turned to face her.
"Are you tired?" he asked quickly.
"No, I am happy," she replied. "I am content," she added.
"That is good, for you will need all your contentment in the coming days." Then he turned from her and began to walk faster.
Gwendolyn smiled at his back. She had known, from the moment Miles had acceded to her wishes, that he would be a hard taskmaster. She had accepted that. She would not let him down, and wanted only the best of training. And Miles, because of his love for her, would be a relentless trainer and mentor. When they were done with the training, Gwendolyn knew Miles would have made her strong.
With those thoughts firmly fixed in her mind, Gwendolyn continued to follow Miles. She did not complain, did not speak again, and even when she fell across the thick roots of an old tree, she did not call out, but merely stood again and quickly caught up with her husband.
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The sun rose, turning the sky blue with its brilliance and chasing away the gray clouds that had been with them for the last two days.
Miles stretched on the ground, and then turned to gaze at his wife. He smiled at the sight that met his eyes. Gwendolyn waited, perched above the river, as still as a statue, the long bow drawn fully, a shaft notched and waiting between her two fingers.
He did not know how long she had been like that, but when he spied the quivering of the muscles in her arm, he knew it had not been a short period.