“No great praise for yourself, yet you are the one who saved Lord Peter, my champion, the Dragon Knight, are you not?”
The king’s voice held great esteem as he spoke of Peter. Pride swelled within Peter’s heart and warmed his weary spirit.
Around the crowded tent the men stood at attention as the King spoke to the young man.
“Aye, but I did not act alone.” The boy shifted, head bowed slightly. He seemed uncomfortable with the praise and attention. “I could not have accomplished it without Richard’s help.” He pointed to Richard and shifted once again.
“From the stories that I have heard you do not do yourself justice. I have also heard that you were unaware of who he was when you rescued him.” Peter watched as the king’s gaze slid over Van Burgess. Peter could almost feel the king sizing the nervous boy up. Henry’s forehead wrinkled as he closely watched the lad’s reaction.
“Not at the time, Your Majesty. I had seen one of our warriors fall to the enemy and I just reacted. I did not realize who it was until I had him in the tent and was putting pressure on his wound.”
The king and lad both shifted their gazes to Peter. Peter then glanced beside him and caught the eye of Grant Hestlay. He decided that he didn’t like being the center of attention any more than Van appeared to.
Van turned his gaze back to the King. “It was then I was close enough to see through the mud on his face, sire.”
“So you knew who he was when you argued with the doctor?”
The boy nodded his head and said that he did.
Henry smiled at Peter before returning his attention to Van. “Even knowing who he was, you were willing to argue with the doctor as to his care? What if he would have died?”
Peter watched Van’s face closely. This was the question he had been wondering about since the boy had first flown out of the shadows to save him.
“Most would not face adversity for someone else,” the king continued.
“If he would have died, I would have willingly lost my head, knowing I had done the right thing. As to facing adversity...” He shrugged his shoulders. “He had done the same for me. I could do no less.” With that he turned to Peter. “I cry your pardon if I have spoken out of place, my lord. I also want to thank you for allowing me to be a squire under your man. I am forever indebted to you, my lord, for all you have done for me.”
Peter listened as Van spoke softly and respectfully, straining each word to accent it with quiet dignity. The part of the obedient and acquiescent subject was so out of place for the boy that Peter could not control the laugh that erupted.
He grabbed his bandaged shoulder as pain rippled through his freshly stitched-up wound. He swallowed hard, his raw throat screaming for water and relief. Getting quick control of the laughter, he took a deep breath to relax his muscles and to allow the cool air to sooth his angry throat.
Van Burgess, foregoing all his respectful talk, yelled for the young man who had just poked his head through the opening of the tent. “Did that doctor give you his potion?” At his nod Van impatiently waved him in. Telpher Constaire kept his head down as he entered with his tray of food and medicine. The king smiled and shook his head softly as he watched Van giving orders.
Van dropped to his knees, pushing away Peter’s hand that still held the injured shoulder muscle, as he spoke over his shoulder to Telpher. “Go see to more food, His Majesty has traveled some distance. Hurry.”
Telpher bowed to the king in mid-step as he rushed from the tent. King Henry’s grin twitched slightly.
Peter just shook his head at the King as Van turned his attention back to the bandaged shoulder and began to scold him. “You have to be careful. I do not need to have that doctor back in here blaming me if you tear out your stitches. Now, here.” Van held the water bag up to Peter’s lips and gave him no other choice but to drink. The cold water was like heaven on his tattered throat. Sweet relief swept through him and he almost forgot about the pain in his shoulder.
Van held the bag for him to drink, but only allowed him a few sips at a time. Even knowing this was the best course of action, Peter had to force himself not to grab the bag and drink his fill. He knew his dehydrated stomach would expel the water as soon as it went in if he did.
Peter looked into the boy’s dark, black eyes to help control the urge to gulp the sweet, cold water. Van leaned in a little closer, too close for Peter’s still weary mind to focus clearly. His vision dimmed and the concerned face above him blurred, bringing back the fantasy of the beautiful woman. He knew it wasn’t real. He knew it was just the boy, but it took an effort not to touch that cheek to see if it was as smooth and as warm as he imagined.
Realizing what he was thinking, he jerked his head back, trying to focus on the boy, trying desperately to dispel the illusion of the fictitious woman. Peter closed his eyes against the ripping pain the sudden movement caused. He barely noticed the cold water that splashed across his bare chest. Van gasped and pulled the blanket up to dry him.
Opening his eyes, Peter saw the concern on the faces circling him. He just smiled and shook his head. After all, what was he supposed to say? He couldn’t very well tell them he was losing his mind. He had never looked at another man the way he was looking at this boy, and the fact that it was the imaginary woman and her seductive voice that he wanted didn’t make him feel any better.
Food was quickly brought and Telpher disappeared from the tent once again. Van laid the water bag beside Peter and rose, facing the King. “Your Majesty. Shall I take my leave now to allow you to speak with your champion?” With a slight bow Van made a step for the flap. He appeared anxious to be gone.
“Stay. You were the one who saved me, you deserve to be here,” Peter said, his voice weak. He hated feeling weak and helpless.
King Henry reached out and touched Van’s shoulder. “Everyone shall sit and eat. You will stay at my side.”
Peter smiled when Van glanced nervously at him. Everyone situated themselves around Peter and the King.
King Henry shook his head and took a large chunk of bread. “It is a shame that Eolian has escaped once more.”
Peter grunted and took a small bite of his own bread, but the crusty bread only enhanced his thirst so he dropped the remainder. “We will get him, Your Majesty.” He took a small drink of the cool water and let his mind wander to Eolian and his army.
Eolian had trained Peter when Peter had joined the armies. Peter had never trusted him, believing him to be loyal to the former king, King Stephen. When King Henry had learned of a plot to overthrow the crown, Peter had shared his concerns with the king and had taken Eolian’s place as the King’s Champion.
King Henry had just begun a campaign to recover the lands bartered away by the former King Stephen. These battles played a major role in the hostilities that now plagued the kingdom. Advocates of Stephen, as well as those who had received those lands, had been causing trouble for the new crown. Having been king for less than six months, King Henry was relying heavily on those loyal to Empress Matilda.
The conflicts between Stephen and Matilda had been long and gruesome. Loyalties to both sides still rode deeply. This made Peter’s job extremely dangerous, but he was confident that he would capture Eolian.
“I think that will take time. His army took a heavy blow in the attack and it will take time for him to begin a new campaign. I believe it will take us time to find him once again, but I am sure he will not just give up.” The king shook his head. “But we can hold out hope that he will disappear for good.”
After the small meal, King Henry turned his full attention to Van. He stared silently at him, then smiled in a determined way, and shook his head again. “Yes indeed.” Peter waited for him to continue, but he only said, “Help Peter outside,” as he rose and moved toward the front of the tent.
Peter looked at the king in confusion. He wondered what King Henry was planning. Why did he want him outside? Peter was confident the King knew what he was doing and he trust
ed him but still, he liked to know what was going on around him. He raised a questioning brow at the King. The King just smiled and walked out of the tent. He had obviously come to some conclusion, but he didn’t seem to be interested in letting them in on it.
Peter looked at the others who just shrugged and shook their heads. Pain seized his shoulder as Richard Devenroe and Grant Hestlay helped him to his feet. Careful of his injury, they assisted him out of the tent. Peter could hear Van right behind him grumbling under his breath.
Peter took a deep breath, squinting against the bright sunlight that prodded at his tired eyes. He wanted to go back to sleep, for at least a month. He wanted all this to be done, and he wanted to be home in his nice soft bed.
Van ceased his grumblings and took a spot next to Richard. It was obvious to Peter that the boy didn’t like him being moved. Nonetheless, he kept his tongue still, but it was clearly taking a physical effort to do so. Van trudged along with a scowl on his face. Peter noticed the expressions on the faces of the men supporting him. Both struggled to suppress grins as they watched the boy nearly shaking in his effort to control himself.
Peter looked back to Van who was now looking at him. Van opened his mouth just to snap it closed again. Then he took a deep breath, clenched his fists, and looked away, grumbling something too quiet for Peter to hear.
Devenroe leaned over to whisper quietly to him. “You know, my lord, I am amazed to see him contain himself so well, even in front of the King.” Peter felt his lips twitch as he struggled not to grin. He knew the lad wanted him to take the medicine the doctor had provided, but it would put him to sleep, and that would not be good with King Henry there.
The beautiful meadow that they had first taken camp in was now a ransacked and demolished mess of torn up grass and flowers. Ruts and deep holes, from the warriors and their horses, made walking on trembling legs difficult for Peter.
Out in front of all the men, the King’s man blew once again on the horn. All stopped to look at the men standing with the King. Peter allowed his two good friends to sit him on a low boulder, in the warm sun. When all of Peter’s men, as well as the men the King had brought, were circled around them, the King motioned to Van.
The King’s face held a serious expression as he addressed the brave boy. “Van Burgess, will you please stand before me.”
Van approached the King on shaky legs, head bowed. He appeared nervous and that surprised Peter. Why was this arrogant and self-assured boy so nervous around the King? Why was he so reluctant to be questioned or to be the center of attention? It almost appeared to Peter that the boy was hiding something. Peter took a deep breath deciding that more than likely the boy was just unaccustomed to all the fuss.
Peter’s head was beginning to ache and he knew it would soon be a blaring headache. He took deep breaths and, concentrating on the King and Van, tried to ignore the throb that was becoming insistent.
The King’s loud voice boomed across the torn up field, but he never took his eyes from the boy. “All who have gathered here will be witness to great deeds today.”
Henry’s bellowing voice tore through Peter’s head like a stampede of sheep—prodding and gouging as they ripped through the soft tissue of his mind. Henry paused, but his words still echoed dimly in Peter’s mind. He clenched his teeth against the pain as the king’s voice once again filled the air.
“Van Burgess, for your bravery on the field of battle; for your selfless act to save another, with no regards to your safety or to personal gain; for your personal stand to protect your beliefs in the face of opposition I am here to acknowledge you—kneel.”
Van dropped to one knee and bowed his head. He was sitting so still that between the black clothes and the deep black hair, he looked like a small dark boulder. The King took the sword offered to him by the soldier beside him. The shiny metal of the newly made sword touched each of Van’s shoulders as the King said the words that made him a knight.
Peter’s pride swelled within him as he listened to the familiar words. Richard cleared his throat beside him. Peter caught sight of the pride and emotion in Richard’s face. With a grin Peter watched the King speak the final words of the creed. “Now rise. Rise as Sir Burgess, the Dark Knight.”
The boy swayed. Peter thought he would fall, but somehow he managed to keep his feet.
“I have need of you to the west of here, Dark Knight.” The king spoke seriously as his men began to gather up their horses. “You will take half of the army I have brought with me. They were brought here for the man who saved the Dragon Knight. For a man of great bravery and unselfish courage.”
Once again the boy swayed, but he managed to keep his feet and to accept the sword the King offered. Van gave a grateful smile to the king and dropped once again to his knee to show his loyalty. “Get ready, you leave now.” King Henry turned to leave as Van rose to his feet.
Van turned to Peter with a wide smile. “Thank you for everything, my lord.” He looked to Richard, nodding his head before walking away. Richard rose and followed him. Peter watched curiously as they stopped not far off and began to talk.
Turning to Grant, he smiled. “Go in my bag and get my dagger.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Grant walked away to do what was requested and Peter turned his attention back to Richard and the newly knighted Dark Knight. Peter shook his head. He was too young to be a knight. The king must have decided on this course of action before knowing how young the boy was.
The two men seemed to come to some sort of conclusion and Richard walked back toward Peter. The boy headed over to the men now under his command, men who were close to twice his age.
“The men may not take well to a boy so young being in charge of them,” Peter said as Richard reached him.
“No, they may not.” Peter heard him take a shaky breath and looked up into Richard’s nervous face as he continued. “That is something I want to talk to you about.”
His good friend of ten years took another deep breath and continued rapidly. “Van has asked me to accompany him. It will be a step up in rank and commission for me. And although I don’t want to leave your army, or lose your friendship, I think it will be a good step forward for me and the boy needs someone he can trust to help look out for him.”
Peter didn’t want to see him go, but he knew it was best for both Richard and Van. He held his hand up to get Richard to stop talking, to at least take a breath. “It is fine. I agree with you. You will never lose my friendship and you will always have a place in my army. If ever you decide to return to me, your spot will always be here for you.”
Peter looked over to the boy coming their way. “And you are right. He is going to need all the help you can give him. Protect him well.”
Grant returned with the dagger, handing it to Peter. He slid it behind him right before the boy reached them. Van smiled nervously at Peter. “I just wanted to thank you again for all you have done for me, now and in the past. It has been an honor to serve under you.” He glanced at Hestlay and grinned. “Keep that doctor from bleeding him and make sure he stays down to heal.”
Returning the smile, Hestlay nodded.
Peter smiled sadly. He carefully watched Van’s face and said, “Well, Hestlay we are losing Richard. He is accompanying The Dark Knight.”
Van turned a grateful and relieved look to Richard Devenroe.
“Did you think I would say no?” Peter asked him.
“No, my lord.” Van’s relief said otherwise as he turned back to Peter. “Thank you once again, but we must take our leave now.”
“Burgess, wait. I have something for you.” Peter only had one thing that was personal to him, something that held meaning. He wanted to show his gratitude for the danger the lad had faced to save his life, not just with the warrior but with the doctor as well.
Struggling to his feet, Peter brushed off the hands that tried to help him. He handed the dagger, jewel encrusted hilt first, to the gaping boy. The emeralds and rubies i
nlaid in the handle sparkled in the afternoon sun. The weapon had been a birthday gift from a friend of his father’s. He thought Lord Matthew Fordella would have approved.
“My Lord, I cannot...”
Peter knew he was thinking to turn down the gift. He could see in his eyes that he wanted it, but would still deny it. Everyone also knew that it was disrespectful to turn down a gift from another warrior.
Van struggled with himself before coming to a decision. “Thank you, my lord.”
Peter was shaken by the gratitude in the boy’s trembling voice, by the emotion he saw sparkling deep within his bottomless black eyes. Peter wanted to speak to the boy about the night he was injured. Wanted to apologize for his behavior, but instead he watched him walk away.
Peter sent up a silent prayer as Richard and Van walked away from him. He prayed for them to be safe, for Van to have the opportunity to grow into a good man. He prayed for a quick end to the wars and a safe trip home for all the warriors involved in it.
***
The dark, black eyes, filled with caring and concern, once more hovered over Peter. The blurry face of the woman swirled in and out of his vision and her sweet, hypnotizing voice sang to him. Enticing him as it had that night, singing her sweet siren song of home and family. He could feel the heat of her skin over and over as he ran his fingers along the smooth cheek. He could feel her blood dripping down into his shoulder, becoming one with his own.
Jerking his eyes open in the darkness, Peter took a ragged breath. He tried to pretend it was just a dream about a woman, but he could not.
His shoulder ached softly but not enough to convince him to roll over and take more of the bitter concoction the doctor had sent.
Closing his eyes, he lay in the quiet darkness and tried to dispel the lingering whispers of the phantom voice.
CHAPTER 3
England June 1158:
The Dark Lady Page 3