"Sorry, I've never seen that horse or you before today.” Will stepped away from Reynold. “I think you banged your head pretty good and should go to the emergency room."
"Emergency room? What is an emergency room?” Reynold asked.
"You've got to be kidding me.” Will backed closer to the barn doorway. “Oh, I get it. You can turn off the dialog now. We're all re-enactors here, no civilians are present."
"Young Will, I doth not understand the meaning of thy words.” Reynold stood confused, wondering what manner of speech his squire spoke to him. What has happened to my world? To my home and the life I once lived? Everything's so strange, yet the same. Yet not.
"Let me try to explain it to him, George.” Sir Thomas stood in the rays of the setting sun, his figure but a dark outline in the light.
"Sir Thomas, thou seek me out. Could this mean thou dost remember after all?” Reynold took several steps over to Thomas, hoping that things in his world were coming back to the way they should be.
"Ahhh ... Sir Reynold.” Thomas stepped completely through the door, and stood next to Abraxas’ stall door. “I was hoping you would join me at the Black Swan for a glass of ale."
Finally. “My friend, I would gladly join thee.” Reynold placed a hand on Thomas’ shoulder, grabbing his forearm with the other.
* * * *
Courtney watched from the stoop of her dress shop as Reynold stopped the monstrous horse in his tracks. She'd never seen anything like it before, and she'd been around a number of well-trained horses through the years.
As mysterious as the man was, there did seem to be something vaguely familiar about him. She just couldn't put her finger on it. Positive that she'd never met him before, something in her heart sprung when he'd opened those tiger-gold eyes of his.
She'd felt herself sink into their warm depths with an ease she'd never known before. A familiar warmth touching her soul, if only for a brief moment. It was probably her romantic notions about the story of Heartsease that sparked her feelings, not the man himself. For pity's sake, she didn't even know what that knight in the story looked like under his armor. She'd never found a picture of him without it anywhere.
Courtney turned away from the man and his horse, returning to the business of her dress shop and the few customers still milling about. There was so much left to do before the end of the season in a week's time. She still had several orders to fill from the end of last season, as well as deciding just how she was going to pack up everything for the move to her modern home.
It saddened her to think of the season ending. She didn't look forward to a long cold winter without the friendship and laughter the faire provided during the summer. She often marveled at how customers came dressed in such a variety of costumes—Vikings to Robin Hood to harem girls. This was a place where a person left the modern world behind in exchange for a simpler way of life. It was a place of fairy tales come true and every little girl was a princess in search of her knight in shining armor.
One by one, she gathered the dresses hanging on the porch to put them safely inside the shop, away from the elements of the night. Maybe her knight had finally found his way out of her dreams and into her world.
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Chapter 4
Reynold followed Thomas down the path in the direction of the Black Swan, not knowing if he were a friend or a foe. If he were back on his homeland, there'd be no question. Here in a land that looked like Heartsease but wasn't, Reynold couldn't be sure of anyone other than himself ... including the woman who may possibly hold his heart in the palm of her hand.
Lady Courtney stirred him deep in his soul. Nothing about her said she could be Catherine, yet every ounce of his heart told him she was his love. His groin responded in lust to only one woman, until he'd looked into the sweet brown eyes of Lady Courtney.
Even the people of Heartsease were different to him, especially their manner of speech and dress. There were woman dressed with their bodies barely covered, while others wore short pants and sandals. Their speech seemed close enough to his own that he'd been able to pick up words here and there, when he'd been close enough to hear them. The now thinning crowd moved toward the top of the hill, and shop lanterns were going out as evening fell upon the village.
Looking to the graying sky, Reynold felt dark forces beyond his control had landed him in a strange land. For now he'd return to the stables to find a comfortable place to bed down in for the night. Once daylight broke, he'd search out the village sorceress and reverse Isabel's spell, no matter the cost.
"Reynold!"
The sound of his name floated through the air like the soft wings of an angel. Reynold turned to find Lady Courtney a few yards from him. With her skirts gathered in her hands and the hem brushing the tops of her ankles, she was as beautiful as the stars on a clear spring night ... all fresh and new, holding the promise of a warm summer season.
"Lady Courtney,” Reynold said and nodded, stepping up alongside her. A scent as familiar to him as breathing wafted past his nose, bringing forth an image of Catherine. Lavender assaulted his memory and fired his longing for a woman now lost to him. Lady Courtney, who insisted she wasn't his beloved, was more like Catherine than she knew. More than Reynold wanted her to be.
The color of her hair and eyes may have changed, but the passion for life sparkled just below the surface. If she came any nearer, he'd cover her face with gentle kisses until the pulse in her neck encouraged him to continue on.
"Do ... you...” Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath and talk at the same time. Reynold stood mesmerized by her flushed cheeks, by the fall of the skirts still gathered in her hands. “...have ... a place to stay?"
Reynold felt Sir Thomas at his back. As much as he'd prefer a bed with a soft woman in it, he knew in his heart the Lady Courtney wasn't that type of woman. And in this strange land he wasn't sure there'd be a woman he'd want to bed down with for the night anyway. He'd never taken up with a wench before, he'd not start now. If his heart wasn't in it, neither was his manhood.
"Lady Courtney, I must protest!” Sir Thomas stood off to the side, yet close enough to intervene should he believe it necessary. Little did he know Reynold's restraint was more powerful than that, no matter how irresistible the woman.
Chuckling, Reynold shook his head. “Once again thou come between us with no cause, my friend. I shall sleep with Abraxas this night, m'lady.” He bowed slightly, his gaze never leaving her sparkling brown eyes. Full of need for her, he wanted to reach out and take her fully with his lips. To claim her as his own before Sir Thomas could draw his sword from its sheath.
Lady Courtney stood so close he could almost feel her skin against his. “If you'd rather sleep with the horses on a bale of hay, that's totally up to you. I just wanted to extend the offer, nothing more."
"M'lady, thy offer is a welcome one but not one I shalt take up on this night.” He turned back toward the path leading down to the tavern, placing a hand on Sir Thomas’ back. He may not have needed the ale before, but he certainly did now. Only the lovely Lady Courtney could put out the fire burning deep in his loins, but the promise of a cool tankard would have to suffice.
"Sir Thomas, thou mentioned a tankard of ale?” he called out, not daring to look back, fearful he just may reconsider the lady's offer of a bed.
* * * *
Sir Thomas grabbed Courtney's arm, making her cringe in pain. “What the hell are you thinking, Courtney? You don't know this guy from Adam and you were just about to invite him into your home as if he were an old friend. At least the man had the good sense to decline before you lost more than the offer leaving your lips."
"Let go of me, Thomas! It's none of your business who I do or don't invite to my home.” She pulled away from him, rubbing the life back into her arm. “It's not as if I'm inviting him into my bed!"
"He's a man, for God's sake. What would you expect him to think of an offer such as that from a beautiful woman?” T
homas stepped closer to her, his breath fluttering across her face. “I'm only trying to protect you, Courtney. For all we know, he killed Joe and buried him out in the old corn field."
She'd never seen Thomas act like a jealous boyfriend before and he had no call to start now. “If you're so worried about it, then maybe you should get a beer and find out why he's here, shouldn't you? Besides, the man can't sleep in the barn. Can you imagine how stiff he'll be in the morning? Not to mention smelling like hay and horses."
"If he stayed with you in your shop, he'd be stiff all right, and not from sleeping on a few bales of hay.” Thomas laughed, pulling Courtney into his arms.
"You are such an ass!” She smacked him in the chest, then turned on her heel. His continued laughter followed her up the path to her dress shop. “Men! Scoundrels, the lot of them."
But her thoughts plagued her. Thomas is right. How could I even consider offering my home to a man I've never seen before? He could be an escaped convict in disguise for all I know. She turned to watch the two men meander down the path. Great, now he's got me picturing a mass murderer instead of a lost soul.
As they strolled side-by-side they reminded her of two old friends out for a night on the town. A warmth spread over her heart, melting the fear Thomas tried to instill in her. Reynold was a lost soul—she felt it deep in her own soul.
A voice intruded on her thoughts. “So, that's the mysterious Black Knight I hear everyone's been jabbering about."
Isabel Cummings! Courtney stopped dead in her tracks. Holding a conversation of any kind with the faire's newest resident and self-proclaimed witch wasn't something she wanted at the moment ... or any other moment as far as that went. The woman sent a chill of dread up her spine whenever she came out of her shop, from which she sold what she claimed were spells, potions and charms. Courtney could almost see the black cloud of doom hovering over her now.
"So it seems,” she answered, taking a step forward in hopes of escaping the red-haired inveigler. Issie, as she liked to be called, had a reputation for bedding men and either spitting them out or turning them into her little pets. She'd sent more than one good man whimpering off into the night, tongue dragging on the ground like a fool.
"Does he remind you of anyone, Courtney? Isn't he the most delicious male specimen you've ever seen?” An outrageously beautiful woman, Issie licked her lips like a cat after drinking a bowl of milk ... or one about to chase down a newly discovered mouse.
"Don't you have enough puppets in your collection, Issie? Or could it be you're tiring of the same old blood night after night? After all, there's not much of a challenge around these parts, is there? At least none with a thread of common sense when it comes to you. I don't think he's your type.” Shit! She's done it again. Why do I let this woman get under my skin? It's like she's got some magical power.
Courtney hated the way Issie got to her without even a second thought. It was as if she knew exactly how to get her riled up. Every anger button she had, Issie knew exactly when and how to push it.
"I heard you ran to his side, Courtney. Is that true?"
The words appeared to be dripping with venomous poison. Issie turned to her, and Courtney was taken aback by the fire of jealousy in the woman's otherwise black eyes. Maybe it was the uncommon combination of red hair and black eyes that gave her the look of a woman possessed.
"The man was hanging from his stirrup, Issie. What would you have me do, leave him there to get trampled on?” Courtney shook her head then turned away from the woman. She wanted to escape Isabel Cummings before the shadows of the night settled in too close. A cold chill sent her skin crawling over her bones.
"He's a good rider and Abraxas wouldn't have stepped on him. They're almost one and the same, those two.” Issie's voice, but a mere whisper through the breeze, swirled through the air into Courtney's ear. It felt as if Issie stood next to her, whispering into her ear.
"What?” Courtney turned on her heel and marched up to Issie's stoop. The woman obviously thought she possessed inside information and Courtney wanted it—now. “And just how would you know that, Isabel Cummings? He's a stranger to everyone here."
"Ha! There are many things I know, Ms. Courtney Parker. The night has many eyes and ears; I listen closely to the whispers of the dark.” Issie's gaze continued to follow Thomas and Reynold through the shadows forming as the sun set. “Take care, Lady Courtney, for on this night a true knight has arrived in this make-believe world of Heartsease. Your safe little world is about to take a tumble."
Issie's laugh was what Courtney could only describe as that of a witch's cackle—full of evil and cunning. It sent goose bumps racing up her spine, raising the hairs on the back of her neck.
* * * *
Thomas’ laughter followed Reynold down the hill. He was sure that whatever Thomas found so funny, the Lady Courtney didn't. At least that's the way it would have been between Thomas and Catherine. They may have only been cousins, but they acted more like a big brother teasing his little sister. If his observation were true, it was the same between Thomas and Lady Courtney. Somehow it brought comfort to him, knowing Thomas looked after the fair maiden.
Mayhap not all has been lost. Hearing Thomas’ footsteps crackle on the ground, Reynold slowed his pace. Before this night passed, he'd convince Thomas his words were true. That he'd have nothing to gain by telling lies about their relationship.
Any why would he lie? He loved Thomas like a brother and had given his own life to save that of Thomas. Or at least he'd thought he had. Instead, a spell of black magic had been cast over them. He'd survive this like he'd survived many other things in his life. With strength, patience, and with cunning to recognize the way to a victorious outcome ... even when all seems lost.
"Curse Queen Isabel and her—"
"Be careful what you say, Reynold.” Thomas walked along beside him, the warning clear in his eyes. “This may be a place of make-believe where actors come to play, but even the night has ears. Don't be so easily fooled by what you see and hear. There are many here who wouldn't hesitate to shove a knife in your back if it furthered their position. Figuratively speaking that is."
Reynold paused at the tavern door. “Surely thou are not serious. I can defend myself fairly well, Thomas. Hast thee forgotten I'm an expert at the knife and no man has been able to best me, although many have tried? These men seem soft to me compared to the knights I've dealt with."
"I have no doubt that you're an expert and believe you are far more superior then the men here,” Thomas said and chuckled. “However, I'm not so sure if you're capable of defending yourself against the simple act of deception."
'Tis true, Isabel's deception hast undone me. Conceding to his friend, Reynold let out a long, heavy sigh. “Thou art correct. I am a trusting soul."
Reynold followed Thomas through the tavern door. It may have looked the same as the inns he knew, but that's where the similarity ended. The smell didn't carry the same odor of flickering flames from the lanterns. The smell of tobacco smoke and perfume mingled with spilled ale, while the conversations of the men and women stopped on a dime the second he closed the door. He wasn't used to the whispering and the curious looks directed his way. No, he was more accustomed to being welcomed wherever he went, not looked upon with suspicion as he was here.
"Thomas?” Reynold pulled out a chair so that his back would be to the wall, concerned that if he sat the men staring would attack him. “Do I need to take heed whilst drinking?"
"No.” Thomas laughed, sitting in the chair opposite Reynold. “They're just as curious as I am about you. And you can cut the period language; the fair's closed for the night."
Period language? Reynold shook his head. “I speak the Queen's language, Thomas. Thou doth well to speak nothing but."
Thomas pushed himself up away from the table, chuckling. “You are a piece of work. Now, what kind of beer do you like?"
What kind? There is now more than one to choose from? “Is there not one type
?"
"You're right. MGD it is!” Thomas stood, then walked over to the innkeeper.
MGD? This is strange indeed. Different ales. Different matters in which a peasant may speak. What spell hast this country fallen under? Isabel's witch must be more powerful than I thought.
Reynold looked at the strangely shaped bottle Thomas placed in front of him. It looked more like a flagon used by a sorceress than something he should drink of his own free will. It was filled with a golden liquid potion. He watched Thomas lift the bottle to his lips and take a long swallow, pleasure filtering around his face.
"Ahhh,” Thomas licked his lips, placing the bottle back on the table. “Nothing like a cold one at the end of a hot summer day."
Reynold wrapped his fingers around the chilled bottle, slowly lifting it to his lips. He took a swig, spewing the bittersweet light golden liquid from his mouth. A drink that looks like pee, yet has the light taste of honey. Nothing like the sweeter, heavier ales of home. Reynold tipped the bottle back again, this time letting the brew swirl in his mouth before swallowing it. Satisfied with the feeling of the liquid slipping down his throat, Reynold took several more long gulps of the brew.
"Hold on there, buddy, you'll get drunker than a skunk drinking that hard and fast.” Thomas laughed, shaking his head. “Ever hear of the word ‘moderation'?"
Reynold wiped his hand across his mouth, placing the empty bottle on the table. “Nay, this tastes more like honeyed water than ale."
"So, are you going to tell me just who in the hell are you? Or am I going to have to get you drunk to loosen up your lips?” Thomas leaned into the table, his eyes boring a hole into Reynold. All traces of friendliness disappeared. Only questions, speculation and warning darkened his face now. It was a look Reynold had grown to respect and take heed of through his friendship with Thomas.
"What thou is about to hear will not only surprise thee but also make thou believe I am a man filled with lies. As a knight of Heartsease, ‘tis not in my soul to tell a tale of lies.” Reynold sighed, knowing he'd have to tread lightly. “My name is Sir Reynold Loddington and best known through the land as the Black Knight. As a young boy the King of Heartsease, David Trenowyth, befriended me after my family died of ergotism. We art like brothers, Thomas. I am betrothed to your cousin, Catherine. We all grew up playing in the castle and on its grounds as if we belonged there. King David longed for his only daughter, a willful child, to have passion for the people she'd one day rule over. As thou knows she dost possess passion, but not in the manner in which her father had hoped for."
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