A Knight for Love

by A. M. Westerling

  He scoured her features as she nodded. Compassion lined her face and understanding filled her eyes. He relaxed then, looking heavenward for an instant before slumping against the table. She didn’t condemn him for changing his path. She understood. Now if only he could.

  “You could bring Alan with you.” Ada cocked her head.

  “I don’t know.” He pursed his lips. “If the abbot doesn’t accept him, what then? Besides, no matter how much money I scrape together, they may not accept me either. As I already told you, I’m not French.”

  “So why not go back to England then?”

  “Because there’s nothing for me in England anymore. You know full well what happened there.”

  A knock sounded and the door swung open to reveal Alan. Warin groaned inwardly at the sight of the youngster holding several bedraggled blooms in one slender hand. How odd of the boy – thoughtful mayhap, but what boy would bring flowers?

  Ada, however, took one look at the exhausted face and drooping body of her young guest and pointed towards the jumbled sacks of grain in one corner but not before taking the flowers and jamming them into the pot of jonquils. “Thank you, Alan, how kind. And sleep now, you need to rest. Pay no heed to us. We’re friends of long standing and wish to converse before you make way on the morrow.”

  They both watched as Alan settled in.

  “Good night,” the boy rasped.

  “Good night,” Warin and Ada responded in unison.

  They sat silent until Alan’s breathing was deep and even, before Warin continued with his discourse. The pause in their conversation for the return of young Alan had made him realize that he had no desire to dwell on the painful aspects any longer. He changed the tone of his words.

  “Not all was bad, Ada, there are wondrous sights to see. Men of black skin, so black you could swear it was fine ebony. And women of incredible beauty, so it is told, for they are unseen, swathed from head to toe in dull, colorless robes so that all that is visible is their eyes. The places of worship are majestic, soaring domes colored with pieces of glass that pierce the eyes with the intensity and brightness.” Warin’s face turned to the darkening window slit, a distant look in his eyes as if the astonishing things of which he spoke lay just outside.

  “The food,” he continued, “wondrous food, flavorful with spices that stroke the tongue and tease the belly.” He held up a finger. “Wait, I’ll show you.”

  He fumbled around in his saddlebag and brought forth a small leather bag. Untying the lace, he shook free several peppercorns that he passed over to Ada. “For your hospitality.”

  Eyes round with wonder, she took the black wrinkled spheres from him, rolling one between her fingers before lifting it to her nose to sniff.

  “Aieee,” she breathed, awed with the gift Warin had given her. She shook her head and made as if to give them back to him. “It’s too much, too fine a gift.”

  “Nonsense,” he said firmly, pushing her hand away. “What is a gift between cousins? You’ve always given me aid and comfort and finally I have the means to repay you. Keep it.” He folded her fingers over the precious treasure.

  Ada smiled with delight, holding the closed fist close to her heart.

  “I thank you, Warin,” she breathed. She slipped the pepper into the pouch hanging at her waist.

  He nodded his head once in acknowledgement, pleased with her reaction. He had only a small sack of the corns left, but to see Ada’s appreciation made the loss of a few all the more worthwhile.

  “And now,” he stifled a yawn, “Weariness has overcome me.” It seemed as if, now that he had spoken them aloud, his tortured thoughts had been evenly exchanged for fatigue. “Pray excuse me.”

  “Of course.” She rose and crossed over to her pallet, grabbing an extra blanket that she threw to him. “There’s room at the foot of my bed.”

  He nodded his thanks.

  Ada crossed over to the door. “I’ve yet to see to the goats. Good night.” She slipped out quietly.

  “Good night.” Warin hoped she would take her time, for he needed to reflect on their conversation.

  He reclined against the sacks, propping his head up with one hand so he could watch the fire’s glowing embers die away to darkness. Behind him, Alan’s breath soughed gently, peaceful and comforting in its regularity.

  A mixture of fermenting mash and soap and lavender with faint undertones of lily of the valley scented the humid room. Warin breathed deeply. The familiar odors conjured up memories of bath days at home and of his late mother, who had also been an accomplished brew master.

  Although darkness had fallen, sleep didn’t come easily to Warin for his conversation with Ada troubled him. He pushed away the disquieting thoughts of the Holy Crusade and focussed instead on her observations of Alan.

  What if she was correct? What if Alan was indeed a young lady? If so, why hadn’t she spoken out? Moreover, if he were a she, how could he ever right the grievous wrong of being in her company not chaperoned?

  Nonsense, he chastised himself firmly, it wasn’t his fault that he had found her alone. God’s blood, he had rescued the poor unfortunate, if anything, he should be praised. And Alan had not come forward to clear his identity; undoubtedly the status quo contented him (her?). That too, was not of his doing. Very well then, to all intents and purposes Alan remained a lad.

  Satisfied, he rolled over and slept the sleep of the dead.

  *****

  When Alyna woke the next morning, her first coherent thought was that for the first time in many days she was warm and dry. Her second thought was that she needed to take her leave.

  Now.

  Immediately.

  Before she could be swayed by the promise of a meal to break her fast.

  Her stomach growled in anticipation at that prospect but stalwartly she ignored it. She lifted her head and saw that both Warin and Ada slept.

  Carefully, slowly, she pushed herself to her feet. She paused to take her bearings, looking first at Ada lying in total abandon on her pallet, blankets one way, feet another, before glancing at Warin.

  He lay curled up against the sacks, relaxed in sleep, cover thrown to one side and mouth open slightly. He looked vulnerable somehow, like a small boy. She stared at him a moment longer until the rustling of a mouse in the thatching above reminded her she should be on her way.

  She tiptoed to the door and opened it quietly, sneaking through without glancing back. Warin’s image was already imprinted on her brain and she had no desire to waste further time on fruitless ogling. ‘Twas pointless, for by the very act of leaving, she cut him out of her life forever.

  The sun had yet to rise but already the world around her awoke with the lifting darkness. Goats bleated and the geese down by the river stretched their wings and waddled to the water.

  The promise of a new day lightened Alyna’s heart. How easy it would be to return to Ada’s hut, to pretend that she had just been out to refresh herself, how easy to rejoin Warin and to enjoy Ada’s excellent food.

  Nay, prudence dictated she must resist the urge. She’d made her decision the previous evening and must abide by it.

  She headed towards the thoroughfare they had traveled on yesterday. Her shoes soon grew wet from the heavy dew as she trudged down the wide path that now followed the river. Trills and warbles of song birds soared into the bluing sky above and once she startled a doe and her fawn.

  She smiled as they bounded away through the dense brush. These were indeed rich lands, small wonder Ada didn’t have the pinched and starved look Alyna had seen often in the past few weeks.

  She rounded a huge oak tree to discover the path disappeared into the water only to reappear on the other side. Due to the recent rain, what would ordinarily be a shallow spot to ford had now become a raging torrent. The ferocious, muddy liquid struggled and threatened to overcome the banks keeping it in check.

  The ominous sight slowed Alyna to a stop. She stood there uncertainly, deafened by the sound of the wate
ry inferno ahead and unable to hear the hoof beats until they were almost upon her.

  “Alan!”

  She jerked her head around to find Warin and Citadel closing in. Relief cascaded through her, making her lightheaded and she teetered a little. He had cared enough about her, or rather Alan, to search for her!

  She lifted her gaze to his scowling face; alarm replaced her relief. Mayhap he wasn’t relieved to see her after all. In fact, judging by the way his eyes smoldered, she had angered him. Did he mean to punish her?

  Panic stripped her of reason and she plunged straight into the raging torrent. Too late, she realized the power of the pounding water around her. It swept her feet away from beneath her; the current pulled her under.

  Her last thought as the water washed over her head was that it really was too beautiful of a day to die.

  Chapter Five

  Warin’s eyes widened in disbelief as the churning river swept Alan away. He groaned. God’s blood, what had gotten into the lad that he had left alone this morning, with nary a thank you to Ada, or to him, for that matter? And now to step in to certain death?

  He spurred Citadel forward, letting the sturdy beast fight the river. Water soaked the destrier’s underbelly but the horse appeared unaffected by it. He seemed to understand what his master asked of him, and he half walked, half swam with the current.

  Meanwhile, Alan had managed to grab onto an overhanging branch and clung to it, hollow eyed with fear. The lad’s cap had been washed away to show uneven, cropped hair. Not a womanly style at all, proving Ada wrong.

  As the pair surged closer, Warin leaned over and, keeping his legs tightly wrapped around Citadel’s middle, plucked Alan from the raging waters. He placed the lad before him but kept his arm tightly under the youngster’s arms, about the bound chest. The horse made ground, heaving away from the water that still sucked greedily at them. Once clear, he bade the animal stop.

  His mind registered fabric strips. And beneath the fabric, the gentle swell of breasts.

  Young lads were not possessed of breasts.

  Young women were.

  The lad shifted and soft buttocks moved against Warin’s thighs. He shook his head. No, it couldn’t be, mayhap Alan suffered from a deformity of the body that caused him to have enlarged breasts and buttocks. Warin had knowledge of that, for he did know of several men suffering this ailment.

  Experimentally, he tweaked Alan’s bottom. A quick slap to his hand rewarded him; a broad smile crossed Warin’s face.

  He carefully lowered Alan – no, not Alan, a young woman – down before sliding off himself. He threw the reins over a bush and turned to inspect his companion.

  Bedraggled and wet she may be, but the river had washed away the road grime on her face revealing creamy skin with a dusting of freckles across her cheeks and nose. She glared at him. Annoyance made her eyes bright green and compressed her wide mouth. Her wet clothing clung to her body and judging by her curves, he guessed her age at sixteen, or seventeen years.

  Too much time in the Palestinian sun had addled his wits to be sure. How had he not seen the young woman beneath the tattered garb?

  Warin tipped back his head and laughed until tears rolled down his cheeks and he could scarce take breath. When he finally stopped, he took one look at her and began all over again, this time alternating between holding his sides and wiping his cheeks.

  “What’s so funny?” she demanded, stamping her foot and holding her arms akimbo, tawny blonde hair plastered about her head, looking no less than a drowned puppy.

  He couldn’t tell her that his hilarity masked his relief at discovering her true sex, something his traitorous body had known all along. And his hilarity masked his relief too, of surviving the ordeal in the river. To stare death in the face and survive strengthened a man.

  “Nothing,” he managed to gasp.

  “Nothing?” she squealed. “You’re laughing at me and you claim nothing?” The young woman pulled herself up haughtily, tilting her nose to the skies. “Your manners appall me.”

  Pointedly she ignored him. She continued to ignore him as his guffaws turned into chuckles that eventually subsided as he admired the delicate profile etched against the morning sky.

  At his silence, she finally peeked at him. When she noticed he still stared at her, she turned her face away again, although a flush crept up her cheeks.

  “What happened to your hair?” he asked suddenly.

  “What’s wrong with it?” She finally turned to face him full on, cheeks stained a becoming pink. “I like it this way.”

  He held up a hand to placate her. “It’s not the style but I admire you for your individuality.”

  She sagged suddenly, defeated. “I cut it. We needed money and so I sold it.”

  Then she began to shiver, no doubt a combination of delayed reaction at avoiding certain drowning, and of cold as shadows yet swathed the glade in which they stood. The shudders wracked her frame with such violence that Warin feared she would lose her head.

  He gathered moss and dry twigs and branches. Before long, a small fire flickered cheerfully and he gestured to Alan to sit by the warmth.

  No, not Alan. He would have to find out her name. In time, when her teeth didn’t chatter so. He pulled off his leather gloves, tossing them to the ground in front of the flames to dry.

  After Alyna sat down by the fire, she pulled off her boots to empty the water. Her dagger, tucked in her right boot for lack of a better place, had disappeared, lost in the raging waters. Not that it had been particularly valuable, but it had been a gift from her father. She tried not to think about it and how much she missed him. Instead, she watched Warin as he busied himself with finding fuel.

  By the Virgin Mary, did concern lurk in the icy blue eyes whenever he glanced her way? She shook her head. That couldn’t be. They had met but two days past. Mutual regard required time to develop and grow, to flourish and fill one’s heart. No, it couldn’t be concern mirrored in his eyes, rather it must be curiosity.

  She dreaded the conversation and the accusations of her deception that were sure to come, and sure enough, her apprehension was rewarded.

  Warin, finally satisfied with the little fire, sat down cross legged across from her. He cocked an eyebrow as if to signal the start of the conversation.

  She feigned ignorance at the obvious invitation and instead gave him a wide-eyed gaze.

  He propped his elbows on his knees and stared intently at her, scouring her from top to bottom with a blistering glare and incredulous face.

  Incredulous why, she had no idea. Audacity at her deception? Disbelief at her predicament? Relief that both had survived the waters churning scarce feet away? She could only guess and wait for the angry words sure to spew forth. She held her hands out towards the fire and noted with some dismay that they trembled.

  “I would be pleased to make your acquaintance.” Warin spoke first. His bland voice hid any emotion he might feel.

  She smothered the impulse to laugh. The greeting seemed better suited for the great hall, not a wilderness clearing where the music came not from minstrels but from birds.

  “Alyna. Alyna Caperun. I told you that when we first met, but you misunderstood.” She replied boldly, eager to prove she hadn’t deceived him willingly.

  Warin nodded ruefully. “True. You must forgive me, then, for your appearance did nothing to belie what I heard.” He glanced away. “And why didn’t you set me straight?”

  She shrugged. “It should appear odd to find a lady, gently born and reared, lost and accompanied by none. Once you had the misconception it seemed prudent to leave you think I was Alan.”

  “Did you not fear discovery?”

  Alyna smiled slightly. “I hadn’t thought of that.” She was relieved to see her hands had stopped shaking; she kept them close to the flames. Her clothing began to steam, wispy gray tendrils escaping from the fabric like the softest eider down.

  “And the tale you told me? Of following your br
other and the betrayal by your comrades? You spoke the truth?” His voice was suspicious.

  “Aye,” she nodded. She hesitated before shyly adding, “I must thank you for your assistance. Doubtless I would sit there still if not for your care.”

  He waved off her words. “It was nothing.”

  He lied, she thought, keenly aware of the anger beginning to show in the clipped tones. She didn’t know what to say then for his growing hostility intimidated her.

  “I am sorry,” she whispered finally. “I meant no insult, I can only offer that the shock of my brother’s death….” Her voice trailed away. She could only stare at Warin. She longed to appease him, but she couldn’t offer an explanation if she didn’t know what angered him so.

  And he was clearly angry now. His eyes, narrowed slightly, were on her, mouth clenched and jaw set as if carved in stone. He locked his gaze with hers for what seemed like an eternity but in reality was mere seconds.

  “I can overlook the fact you chose to remain as Alan for, as you say, the shock of your brother’s death tampered with your reason. However, for one who claims to be gently born and reared, you sadly lack in manners. To run from one who opened her home to you is unjust.”

  Alyna’s cheeks flamed. He referred to Ada. She opened her mouth to reply, to remind him of the flowers she had brought Ada last night but Warin held up a hand, halting her.

  “Furthermore, Alyna, the gift of life is precious. You, in your foolhardy attempt to cross the river, risked not only your life but that of my horse as well as me.”

  “I didn’t ask to be rescued,” she flared. “Not two days past when you found me and not this morning. Your anger isn’t justified, Sir Warin.” She emphasized his name to indicate her contempt.

  “Unlike you,” his contempt matched hers equally, “I value the human spirit.”

  “Finely spoken for one just returned from the battle fields of the Holy Land.” Her taunt hit its mark for anguish flared in his eyes.

  He sat silent for a moment, face motionless but for a muscle that twitched as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. Slowly he stood and turned away. His words, when they came, were controlled and edged with steel.