Reynold sat back in his chair as Thomas stood. Rolling the empty beer bottle in his hands, uncertain of how much more to tell him, Reynold wished he'd never accepted the joust as presented. If he could go back and change things, he would. That choice didn't seem to present itself to him then, nor did it now. He'd not known what his act of deception in the joust would cost him, or those close to him.
Thomas eyed him. “This calls for a heavier drink, and one more fitting to this incredible conversation.” He went to the bar, leaving Reynold wondering if he'd done the right thing. What if he'd told more than was needed? Or hadn't said enough to convince Thomas he spoke the truth and wasn't a crazed man on the loose. He didn't blame Thomas for not believing him; he wasn't sure he'd be any different if the situation were reversed.
A woman's shadowed figure caught the corner of Reynold's eye the moment she stepped through the door. Her fiery red hair seemed to glow like a beacon in the night. She scanned the room before locking the stare from her cave-like eyes onto his. The magnitude of their depths pulled his gaze deeper into hers with a snapping force. Darkness enveloping him, his heart and stomach lurched all at once.
The thud of a tankard and the splash of ale hitting the table brought him from the murky depths. “Just so I understand. You say we were childhood friends in England during the Fifteenth Century?"
Reynold nodded his head, drawing in a deep breath and feeling a small sense of relief. “Aye, m'friend. We have known each other a long time.” Reynold glanced back to the door and found the woman gone. He settled back into the chair, feeling quite certain the night played a trick on his mind. More black magic since arriving in this strange place.
"Thomas, aren't you going to introduce me?"
Reynold peeked up from his tankard of ale. His gaze caught a delicate hand on Thomas’ shoulder, and a blood-red ring carrying the insignia of Heartsease on the right ring finger.
Queen Isabel!
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Chapter 5
Reynold jumped to his feet and bowed to the woman he'd called ‘Queen’ these past three years. “Your Majesty."
Thomas’ hearty laugh filled the tavern. “Reynold, this one's anything but royalty here. Stop embarrassing yourself and sit down; everyone's watching you."
Ignoring Thomas’ insult, the woman extended her right hand to Reynold.
"Since Thomas has such a foul tongue and appears to have lost his manners, allow me to introduce myself. I'm Isabel Cummings, but you can call me Issie if you wish.” Amusement flickered in her otherwise black eyes, as if she found the situation a piece of entertainment for her and her court.
Cummings? Issie? She took on the sir name of her chambermaid? Reynold took her hand in his and bent to kiss her ring, and then Thomas elbowed her in the side, knocking her off balance.
"Thomas!” Reynold hissed, amazed his friend would treat their Queen in such a manner.
"Your presence isn't welcomed here, Issie. Find another fool who'll bend to your wishes, there's not one here.” Disgusted, Thomas pushed away from the table, leaving Reynold to deal with Isabel on his own. During their entire life, he was the only one who could sooth her rage.
"Thee must forgive my friend. As thou knows, Thomas forgets his place from time to time.” Reynold waited in silence for Isabel to take a seat at the table. “Reynold Loddington, at Your Majesty's service."
Thomas’ disrespect for their Queen troubled his mind, but not as much as the manner in which Isabel was dressed. A woman who lavished in the finest fabrics and jewels now resembled a peasant rather than someone who ruled cruelly over her country and its people. With so much that had changed, could it be Isabel herself had changed as well? Could she actually have found the compassion for her people that her father had? Possible, but not bloody likely.
There was a time when Queen Isabel would have had one of her people flogged for speaking to her in such a way. The Isabel who now sat in the chair once occupied by Thomas had turned a cheek and dismissed the slight of tongue with a wave of her hand. Something was terribly amiss, and it soured Reynold's soul to the core as to what it could be.
"Oh, that? I'm used to it. He's just a little boy who wants the candy in the jar, but can't have any,” Issie retorted, motioning for Reynold to sit as well. “So, tell me about yourself, Reynold Roddington."
"Yes—please do tell us.” Courtney stood next to the table, Thomas flanking her right. Her eyes lit up the room with warmth and compassion. Reynold shifted in his seat to ease the growth between his legs.
Thomas smiled like the Cheshire cat at Issie. “Look who I found lurking in the shadows."
The two women eyed each other up—contempt in Issie's eyes and distrust in Courtney's. Deep beneath the surface of politeness lay a rivalry Reynold was already all too familiar with. These two never liked each other, even as children playing in the courtyard.
He couldn't accept the fact the Lady Courtney wasn't his Catherine. Something deep down in his heart and soul told him they were one and the same, just born in different worlds and time.
Reynold stood, allowing Lady Courtney to take his seat. He'd already told Thomas his story, what more could he say? That he was in love with a woman much like Lady Courtney? That he'd been banished from his homeland because he wouldn't bed down with his Queen?
Not with Queen Isabel sitting in front of him—he valued his life too much for such an accusation ... even if it were the truth and common knowledge within Heartsease. She wouldn't hesitate to have him cut down where he stood, if she so desired.
And what of the Lady Courtney? Would she believe his words, or treat him with the kindness she'd shown the mindless of their country? He'd not take the chance; not yet any way.
"Reynold Loddington.” He shivered as his name rolled like sweet honey off Courtney's lips. “Very unusual. Is it an old family name?"
Reynold shifted his feet, not sure how to answer Lady Courtney's question. If she were really Catherine in another time, then wouldn't she have full knowledge of who he was? Her face held the same porcelain hue, and while her eyes may have changed in color, he saw the same passion and sweetness within them. He wondered if her lips still held their sweet taste as well.
Issie cleared her throat, drawing everyone's attention back to her. “I would venture to guess his parents were deep into 15th Century England history. I also bet that—"
"Enough Issie! I don't think this man needs to be subjected to your questions, ladies. It's late and we all need to be fresh for tomorrow's crowd.” Thomas slapped Reynold on the back, then led him toward the door and into the safety of the night.
* * * *
"Fare thee well, Black Knight!” Issie called out, waving her hand in the air as Reynold and Thomas took their leave.
"Well! I never.” Courtney sat back in her chair, amazed at the turn of events. Here sat Issie Cummings, self-proclaimed witch, with one man lapping up her every word while another spat at her. Just what the hell does she have that no other woman has? That I don't have?
"Of course you have,” Issie said and continued waving, her stare never leaving the backsides of the two men until they were through the door. “More times than I'd care to recall."
"Issie, you are the most ... ohhhhh ... I can't even begin to describe how nasty you can be.” Courtney looked at her, watching her expression change from a face filled with lust to that of a predator. The cold, black look sent a chill of recognition down her spine. She'd seen the look before, but she wasn't sure when or where.
Issie took a drink from Reynold's tankard, licking her lips slowly. She reminded Courtney of a lioness finishing her evening snack—all that remained was the purr of satisfaction. As far as Courtney was concerned, the woman had no business taking such a liberty ... she was being far too familiar with Reynold Loddington for Courtney's liking.
Then again, why should she give a darn? He was just another re-enactor here for the summer and gone as soon as possible after Labor Day weekend. No, she
didn't care what happened to Reynold Roddington. At least, that's what she kept telling her heart each time his name floated off of Issie's lips.
Issie leaned forward, her eyes burning like black flames. “You and I have never liked each other, Courtney.” Issie slapped her hand down on the table hard enough to upset one of the tankards, spilling ale onto the table. “I'll have what I set out to get and you'll not stop me this time around, Catherine!"
A shiver of fear and warning flittered down Courtney's spine. That's the second time today someone's called me Catherine. These people have got to get their minds straight, I'm not this Catherine.
"I don't know who Catherine is, but she's not me. I wish you and that Mr. Reynold Loddington, or whatever it is he's calling himself, would get that straight.” Courtney shoved herself out of her chair to leave the table. She leaned down, coming nose to nose with her enemy. “You'll not scare me, Isabel Cummings. I know your kind and there's a reason why women avoid you."
Courtney stomped out the tavern door, Issie's wicked laughter following her into the night.
* * * *
There must be a full moon tonight and I just missed it. She looked to the night sky, but found only a sliver of moon hanging there shrouded by wispy clouds. Nope, no crazy people out according to that moon. I think the night holds a pack full of lies about that myth, because crazy's hit here in full force ... full moon or not.
Cackling laughter swirled around her like a mini whirlwind, and dark foreboding streaked through her soul. The high-pitched noise held a sinister edge to it, much like that of the Wicked Witch of the West in The Wizard of Oz. As quickly as she'd felt trapped, the sensation left her standing in the warmth of the summer night once again.
"Damnable woman!” Courtney hiked her skirts as she marched up the darkened path to her shop. “Who in the hell is this Reynold Loddington anyway?” she sputtered to herself, her gaze never leaving her feet. “There's an answer to this somewhere—I just have to find it before it drives me insane."
She searched her mind, trying to break through the cloud of confusion edged with the suspicion instilled by Issie. Why has the woman singled me out now? They'd always been distantly cordial to one another, yet never really spoke or took the time to get to know one another. Tonight they'd said more to each other than they did the past few months while setting up for the current season.
A new vendor to the faire this year, Issie Cummings made more enemies in thirty days then an average person could in a lifetime. Her air of superiority may have attracted single-minded men, but it did nothing to form a sisterhood with any of the women. Courtney was amazed at how Issie could so easily go from sultry vixen to bitch just based on who walked into her shop ... or crossed her path in the streets of Heartsease.
Now it seemed she'd set her vixen sights on the faire's mysterious knight. She already had him melting on her every word and movement. Jeez! From the way Reynold acted, it was as if he thought she was the faire's queen instead of Josie.
Bowing and calling her “Your Majesty” the way Reynold did caught both Thomas and her off guard. And heaven knows Issie didn't need any encouragement. By the look of what took place in the tavern, Reynold's treatment of Issie only gave her more of an uppity air than she already possessed.
Reaching the stoop to her shop, Courtney glanced at the lights blazing in Issie's potion shop. Somehow the slippery woman had gotten past her on the path. The woman was about as mysterious as Reynold. Things can only get better from this point, can't they? After all, the season was in its sixth week and there'd be enough to keep her busy and not thinking about Issie Cummings or Reynold Loddington. At least while he's not in my sight.
Yet, there had to be a connection between the knight and the witch. That hint of recognition she'd seen flit across his dark gold eyes could only mean one thing. Reynold thought he knew Issie from somewhere. Maybe, Courtney thought, from another renaissance faire. Maybe in another place she played the Queen of that faire and he'd just been showing respect to her in that capacity.
As if hearing her thoughts, a willowy shadow passed by the window shades of the witch's shop, and a chill crept up Courtney's spine. Somehow she knew the answers to many of her questions may be found in that shop.
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Chapter 6
Reynold woke with Abraxas munching on the bale of hay he'd used as a bed for the past several nights. Pushing the horse's nose from his ear, he rolled over. The pounding in his head quickly reminded him of the bittersweet ale he and Thomas drank after leaving the tavern last night. He'd only experienced the pain before if he'd been clonked on the head, not from drinking a few tankards of ale. What was in the drink that would cause him to feel as if his head were swimming in the castle moat?
The sound of hearty laughter coaxed his eyes to open further. Blurrily, he watched Thomas as he kicked the stacked bales with the toe of his boot, jostling Reynold into the stall boards. “Can't sleep the day away, Reynold. The gates open at ten in the morning and there's much to do. You need to get your ass off that bale of hay."
Swinging his legs off the bales, Reynold reached for his pants. “Thomas, thou could hear a cock crow before the sound came from the animal.” Grimacing from the heavy feeling between his eyes, Reynold pulled his pants up, then tugged on the boots designed to protect his legs from injury during battle.
"Good thing too, or else you'd be without your breakfast.” Thomas handed him a bag with a big red jester on it. “It's not much, but it'll do for now. I hope you like bagel and egg sandwiches. I thought this would be a good time to talk a bit while we got the horses ready."
Nodding, Reynold took the offering, pulled the bag apart and began ripping the paper off the covered sandwich. Turning the bagel over, he brought the sandwich to his nose and sniffed before biting into the barely warm food. The stuff was just another indication how far he was from his homeland. What he wouldn't give for a bowl of salmagundi and a slice of bannock.
Thomas stroked Abraxas’ neck and the horse nuzzled his head against his chest. “Why isn't he like this with everyone? I heard he caused a ruckus in here last night in the stables, aging your squire by ten years."
Swallowing hard, Reynold wiped the corner of his mouth. “He knows thee, Thomas. Abraxas remembers thy smell from when he was foaled. Thee saved his life pulling him from the womb of his dam."
Thomas shook his head. “You've got to be kidding, Reynold. I'm lucky I can groom, saddle and ride a horse let alone assist in a birth."
Reynold shoved the last of his sandwich into his mouth, then cupped his hands into a bucket of water. After several swigs, he wiped his hands across his thighs, hoping his next meal would be a bit more succulent. “Thou did and I'm forever grateful. I would have lost both the foal and the mare if thee hadn't come into the stable when thou did."
Reynold opened the stall door, allowing Abraxas out. “He needs to run, Thomas. Is there a field nearby? By the look on thy face, I would say not. The list then."
With Abraxas at his shoulder, Reynold walked past Thomas and out of the barn. A soft pat on the neck, and Abraxas burst through the open gate into the arena. The midnight black stallion bucked and reared before cantering around the fence, releasing all the pent-up energy from being confined all night in a stall. Something he was far from used to, having been raised in the open fields surrounding the castle of Heartsease.
Reynold and Thomas stood in silence admiring the sleek animal before them. Reynold shrilled quickly and Abraxas halted in mid-air, then moved in a slow trot over to them.
Reynold stroked his horse's nose, giving him the apple he'd hidden in the waist of his pants. “Thy surname is Astley, Thomas. Thy name comes from a descendant of a powerful English landowner whose eldest son, thee, became a knight in the court of David Trenowyth, King of Heartsease. A position in life thou desires even now."
"How in the hell do you know that?” Thomas demanded, stepping away from the fence. “No one knows the truth surrounding t
he myth and no one knows my supposed family connection to it. I'd like to keep it that way if you don't mind since it's nobody's business but mine and my family's. The last thing I need around here is for people to think I'm totally delusional."
The anger and fear in his voice did little to deter Reynold. He had to make Thomas understand he knew everything. Reynold needed his help in finding out why he'd been sent to this mirror image of the 1490s, for it had become clear he was no longer in the place he'd been in at daybreak numerous mornings before.
"We grew up together, Thomas, and shared many secrets as young boys. I am betrothed to your cousin, Catherine. Or I was to be betrothed to her until Isabel's jealousy..."
Reynold retold his story from the previous night. If he were going to make Thomas remember, he'd have to tell him everything, not just a small portion, of when his family first came to Heartsease to the time of the joust, which brought him here.
Thomas ran his hands over his face. “You really expect me to believe that bullshit? I thought you'd give that crap up after a few beers last night."
Reynold slapped Thomas on the back, then whistled to Abraxas. “Thou shall believe, m'friend. Thy memory shall return, then thou will know I speak the truth."
* * * *
Courtney stood on the other side of the bleachers just behind Reynold and Thomas, but it was the jet-black animal that drew her attention. The magnificent Andalusian pranced around the arena, proudly displaying his flowing mane and tail. If a horse could be cocky and arrogant, this would be the one. He demanded your attention without you even realizing it.
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