The Lady of Fairhaven

by Lee Scott

  “I suppose if that is the case, you shall have to take me with you.” Anne replied.

  “Oh if only I should be able to summon the courage to ask again. Although Sir Luke has been kindness itself, I feel as though I am mere chattel to be bargained and traded away.”

  “Perhaps one request has been enough. As it turns out, Sir Luke has approached me and begged that I accompany you to Longmore. He said that bringing me with you would please you and thus him and his father, and it would show an act of good will and good faith. He told me to be ready, and he would send for me on the day you are to depart.”

  Gillian hugged her friend tightly and cried in earnest. Luke’s thoughtful gesture was so kind, so considerate, Gillian thought her heart might cease beating for the sheer pleasure of the favor. And now the two conspired how they might be able to spend their time in a new home.

  Feeling much relieved by Anne’s news; Gillian left her to the task of organizing her belongings. Most of them had been brought back to her parent’s home when she was safely removed from the manor. It had broken both their hearts, but Gillian knew it was the only prudent thing to do. Luke had provided two large trunks for her personal items.

  It was later in the afternoon when the two parted and Gillian made her way to the smithy’s apprentice. His arm was almost healed, and he was most grateful for her attention. The smithy seemed subdued and reserved.

  “My Lady, how unexpected that you should grace our home with your presence. We had heard you had fallen ill since your last visit here and we would have thought…”

  “Please rest easy. My visit here and indisposition were not as related as one might think. Had I visited the abbey, the outcome might have been the same. Please do not take any of the blame upon yourself.” Gillian said with a smile.

  “Thank you My Lady. Your kindness has always been of value to us,” The smithy said.

  With that Gillian turned and left to venture on with her visitations. She was determined to visit Millicent. Although she would more than likely not be present for the birth of her second child, she wanted he to know she would be there in spirit.

  “Good day, Millicent,” Gillian said. “I hope this day finds you and your babe well?”

  “Aye, My Lady,” Millicent replied. “Thank you for asking.”

  “Has all gone well with you? Do you have any problems?”

  “Only the same complaints we all have during this time. Charles sleeping noises awake me in the night, and then I am left to standing guard over his well earned and comfortable sleep. If I could only find a restful position with girth such as this, all would be well. At least it will be over soon enough.”

  “I have brought some tea that might calm and soothe you. Take it before you sleep at night. If it should give you some measure of ease, I would be well pleased.”

  “You are too kind,” Millicent replied.

  “I only wish I should be here for the event. You have never seemed happier than you have been carrying your child. I would only like to share in your joy at his birth,” Gillian said with a sigh.

  “And perhaps you will enjoy a child soon with your upcoming marriage, My Lady,” Millicent suggested.

  “Mayhap I will,” Gillian replied with a blush.

  She did so want children and she prayed her new husband would allow her the opportunity to bear his child. It had been spoken of in the contract. Whatever his true wishes are would be determined later.

  Fears of not being a suitable bed partner had been plaguing her. She had such carnal desires, but not for her husband. Would she be able to share his bed with the joy some women were lucky enough to find? Or would her life be one of tolerance of his physical needs. She prayed she would get some enjoyment, and yet, she longed to hold Luke. God how was she ever going to bear it?

  After leaving the tea with Millicent, Gillian left and climbed up on Buttercup. Mathias and Bernard were still engaged in conversation and although Gillian still did not have any desire to interrupt their conversation, she did wish to allow Buttercup some exercise, and see to her own need of galloping on her new horse.

  At the edge of the village, Gillian lightly kicked her golden mare in the flanks and as if having waited for the opportunity, Buttercup leaped into a full gallop. Leaning down over her horse’s neck, Gillian encouraged the horse to run free. Bernard and Mathias were left behind, not because their horses were not capable of keeping pace, but because they were deeply engaged and were continuing on with a sedate pace.

  Steering her horse through the meadow, Gillian let the animal have her own lead as she ran through the tall grass and wildflowers. The horse ran along the edge of the woods, fast and sure.

  Gillian could feel the warm breeze through her hair and wondered if Buttercup was enjoying the same pleasure. It had been a very long time since Gillian had enjoyed a good run on horseback and the feeling was somewhat liberating.

  She could feel the muscles in Buttercup’s neck tense with her effort. Keeping her head level, the horse had a magnificently smooth gait. The pale strands of mane and tail were streaming wildly with the wind.

  If her uncle found out about it, she would no doubt be punished. But she felt certain her escorts would not be willing to share that they had failed to maintain a proper guard for her. More likely than not her secret was safe.

  The manor was in clear sight but still some distance away. When Gillian looked back over her shoulder she could still not see her escort. She was alone.

  The chatelaine was beginning to pull in on the reins to turn for home, when two horses and riders exploded out from the protective covering of the woods directly in front of her. With no time to react, Buttercup reared up on her hind legs in alarm. The wild shriek from her horse startled Gillian. The mare was unsettled.

  Caught off guard herself, Gillian had no time to react and was dumped into the grass and dirt, knocking the air from her lungs. Having previous injuries, her chest contracted with the intense pain.

  Gillian watched the animal’s eyes roll as she looked at the other horses and people around her. With a snort and a whinny, her horse dashed across the field toward the only place she could recognize as safe. Attempting to shake off the experience, the beautiful mare kicked her hind feet as she bolted away from the source of the disturbance.

  If Gillian hadn’t been startled beyond thought she would have been outraged at having had her healing ribs injured once again. Unable to catch a full breath, her vision became fuzzy, but she was determined to remain conscious. She fought to calm her ragged breathing. Why had her life become one unhappy accident after another?

  As Gillian sat in the dirt, dazed and hurting, she watched one of the two men dressed in brown peasant tunics dismount and approach. He was handsome enough with dark brown curly hair and almond shaped brown eyes. Although he was not large like Luke, his body was well muscled and lean.

  The smile startled Gillian. Why would he accost a lady and then smile? His assault was serious, if indeed it was not accidental. She could only pray that the men sprang out of the woods without knowing she and her horse would happen by at that precise moment. If that were the case, then they would be assisting her to her feet and helping her to he castle.

  Taking another look over her shoulder revealed that still her escort was nowhere in sight. Had she outrun the two so far that they were still hidden? This situation was clearly her fault, but she prayed it would not end miserably. She should never have ventured out on her own, alone. She had been repeatedly warned, and now she was suffering the consequences. If she ever had the opportunity another time she would never happen again.

  As the next few seconds ticked away, Gillian realized that the two had no friendly intent on their minds. The handsome man grabbed her about the waist and heaved her up in the saddle of the second man still astride his horse. A shrill painful scream pierced the afternoon air. Gillian continued to fight to stay away from even through her breath was in short supply.

  The man holding her was large
enough to control her fighting and kicking, but he was not a giant man. His face was not as handsome as the other, but he was not so hard to look at, except for the missing tooth in the corner of his smile. His hair was a sandy brown and fell in dirty strands to rest lightly on his shoulders.

  By the time the handsome man seated himself upon his horse, a cry of alarm was heard from the direction in which Gillian had just come. Her two escorts were galloping full speed across the meadow. With swords drawn, they now seemed ready for a fight.

  The two abductors did not seem inclined to get involved in swordplay and spurred their horses back in the direction of the woods and its protective covering. They had a lead, but just. It would not be difficult to overtake a horseman holding on to a struggling woman.

  Gillian saw only snatches of warm light and cold dark patches through the trees. The man’s grip tightened around her middle. It was all she could do to keep the black fog from swallowing her up. The pain from her re-injured ribs was overtaking her thoughts, and every breath was a torturous struggle. Her captor’s hold tightened and loosened as he fought with her bodyguards. She saw an opportunity to unbalance the brigand by twisting her head and sinking her teeth deeply into his unprotected upper arm. The man yelped and released his grip. Gillian struggled to cling to his saddle, but when the horse skidded to a stop and turned, she lost the battle and slid down to the ground with a thud. Whatever took place after she blacked out would remain a mystery.

  Luke had been working his men in the bailey when Buttercup scrambled in over the cobblestones of the portcullis and skidded to a halt without Gillian. Buttercup continued to snort and stamp with displeasure. His heart squeezed tight and threatened to stop altogether.

  “God’s wounds!” he whispered. “What could have happened?”

  Giles ran for their two horses. “I sent Gillian out with an escort this morning. She had gone into the village. This is not good. We must find her.”

  Luke was mounting his destrier with speed and kicked the steed into action. Both horses jumped into a gallop and raced out of the castle. As they reached the entrance, they saw two soldiers riding headlong into the woods. Gillian was not in sight.

  Dashing as fast as they could, the horses finally slowed for their plunge into the darkness of the forest, and were met with the sounds of fighting nearby. As Luke and Giles approached it was obvious that Bernard and Mathias were engaged in battle, while one of the men held Gillian close by. Dear God, she could be run through by Bernard’s sword.

  The man holding her took a look at the reinforcements rushing toward them. Gillian twisted then dropped to the ground. Her body struck the ground feet first and then she crumpled and rolled onto the forest floor. Luke watched the man yank on his reins, and turn his horse around. The animal’s legs stamped in the dirt as the hind hooves moved closer to Gillian. Each hoof stomped just inches away from Gillian’s head. With clumps of dirt ejected from the hooves digging into the ground, the horse moved off. The second man discontinued his battle and sped off through the trees.

  “Go after them,” Giles ordered. The two men spurred their horses into action behind the runaway brigands.

  Luke jumped to the ground and in two easy steps, reached Gillian. His well trained destrier, Storm stood in place. He crouched down and touched her.

  “Lady Gillian,” he said more firmly than he felt. Giles crouched beside him. “Wake up, Gill.” His hand brushed clumps of dirt and twigs from her face.

  Still fighting to awaken, Gillian moaned and her eyes fluttered open. Breathing that had been easier in sleep, now came short and labored. She looked around briefly then relaxed.

  “Who’s here?” she asked. Her eyes remained unfocused and her chest heaved with the effort to breathe.

  “For the moment, Sir Giles and myself,” Luke answered. “What has happened here?

  “Where’s Buttercup? How is she?” Gillian struggled to stand and clutched at her side as a pain knifed its way through her side. Her head was swimming again and she slid to the ground. Tears were running down her face. “I’ve killed her. Haven’t I?” she cried out hysterically.

  “She appears fine, just scared. She ran back to Fairhaven,” Luke assured. “Tell us what befell you.”

  The panic registered in her expression. “It was all my fault. I wanted to run on Buttercup. She is so lovely and sweet. I just wanted to know how it felt to run on her. We were crossing the meadow when…I fell. Please don’t tell my uncle. Please! I fear what he might…think.”

  “Yes, My Lady. We understand,” said Giles.

  “And where were Mathias and Bernard when you fell?” Luke asked grimly. His anger was seething to the surface.

  “They were following behind me,” Gillian said dismally. At least that was not a lie. “Please promise me you shall not inform my uncle.”

  Luke and Giles exchanged glances. Both knew the escort had been too far behind and should never have left her side. As fine a horse as Buttercup was, their horses were at least her match in speed. The two would have to get to the bottom this.

  “You have our word, My Lady,” Luke said. “But do not think that we are accepting your story that you fell from your horse.”

  “But I did,” Gillian insisted.

  “Perhaps, but what of the two men engaged in battle with your escort when we approached? What of them?” Luke asked sternly.

  “I do not know. I will never do anything so foolish as run my horse ahead in the future. I deserve whatever punishment is set out for me. I apologize Sir Luke, Sir Giles, for any problems I have caused.”

  Gillian pushed up to standing while gasping for breath. The swift effort proved too much for her injured ribs and as soon as she straightened out she groaned in pain and crumpled once again, Luke caught her in his arms before she hit the ground.

  Gently, Giles handed the lady up to Luke who balanced her back against his chest for the short ride back to the castle. Whoever had attempted this assault was bold to attack so close to the manor. One thing was for sure, Bernard and Mathias would pay for leaving Gillian alone and unprotected.

  Luke handed Gillian to his squire then collected her into his arms after dismounting. Within moments he had deposited her into her soft bed. Giles had sent a man for a healer. In the meantime, Luke ordered cool water and clean linens. He applied one after another to her forehead. He was unpracticed in the arts of healing except for the occasional treatment of cuts. Each movement brought forward a serious addition to the injury Gillian had already suffered. The wounds would have healed by now if she had only stayed quietly in bed.

  Alice finally forced the knight out of the room explaining the impropriety of having a man in a maiden’s bedchamber. Luke finally agreed and left the women to their work, but he was not happy.

  Lady Gillian was resilient to be sure, but coming so close to losing her, clenched Luke’s insides into knots. The healer had said she had several cracked ribs. This was an injury only warriors should sustain, not beautiful young women. He cursed himself for caring so much, for wanting her so much, and for needing her like he had needed no other. If he could just distance himself he felt he could climb free from the emotions threatening to overtake him. There was little possibility of that, however, she was close and would be for some time.

  He may not be able to control the emotions raging inside him, but he could do something about the two fools who left her unprotected. He would teach them a lesson that women were to be protected from danger. Their selfish natures had nearly cost Gillian her life. And in her generosity she was willing to assume all blame. Her situation was insufferable.

  Luke slept naught that night. His rage, concern, and lust battled to gain control of his mind throughout the long hours before dawn. Mayhap his revenge on the men would satisfy his urges to strike out and allow him some modicum of sleep.

  Before breaking his fast Luke went to the great hall to select a man to accompany him to the practice yard. “I shall select opponents for my practice today from Oli
ver’s men. It is best if we practice with untried warriors to hone our skills. I shall begin with Bernard.”

  He selected Bernard because it was said that he was the most skilled swordsman in Oliver’s guard, and he was the largest. He did not want to take the man on after being weakened by another. And there would be another. Mathias would feel the wrath of his sword as well.

  Bernard struck the first blow and would have injured him if he had not worn his hauberk and jack. The blade cut into the leather, leaving a large scar in its wake. For the first few minutes, Luke let Bernard throw one blow after another as he dodged contact after contact. Bernard was large, strong, and skilled making him perfect for battle.

  His flaws made him vulnerable. He was undisciplined. The evidence of that, of course, was seen with his poor care of Gillian. Overconfidence was his other fatal defect. It would take both these flaws to bring the man down today. Bernard chose not to don his entire battle gear for practice. Luke had always worn his armor even in practice. He had seen too many men severely hurt.

  After studying his techniques, Luke moved in and swung his sword against his opponent’s arm. With a yowl of pain, Bernard fell to the ground clutching the deep cut on his elbow. It would be some time before Bernard would wield a sword again.

  Mathias visibly paled when Luke picked him out of the crowd for his next opponent. It had become obvious to the man what Luke was about, and he had no desire to become his next victim.

  It took less skill and endurance to topple Mathias. He was cut in a similar fashion and sat numbly for a few moments contemplating the severity of his injury. By the time Luke had walked away and removed his armor, his revenge satisfied Mathias had jumped to his feet, shifted his sword to his left hand, and stepped forward in an attack posture.

  It was a cowardly act that left a few warriors surprised. Luke was vulnerable now and very angry at the cravenness of his adversary's act. One false blow and he could die from his wounds. Mathias, as it turned out was almost as good with his left hand as he was with his right. He swung one blow after another. Luke was tired from his long work out but still had plenty of energy left. As Luke protected himself, strike after strike, Mathias made the mistake of trying to finish his opponent off too early.