A Knight for Love

by A. M. Westerling

  “Aye.” She nodded her thanks, smiling prettily at him. “It will be welcome indeed to ride alone.”

  Warin fair glowed with pride. Did she imagine it or could it be that he stood a little taller, his chest a little broader than when they set out this morning from their little camp?

  And pride she felt, as well, to be in the company of such an accomplished jouster. All about them shouted their congratulations, jostling around her to get a closer glimpse of today’s victor.

  She hung back, silent, gazing at him, and letting the adoration she had been attempting to suppress over the past days show openly on her face.

  Their gazes met, and quickly she dropped her eyes for a moment to hide the emotion she had no right to feel but that nudged firmly, unbidden, at her heart. She hoped he would attribute the sudden flush bathing her cheeks to the heat of the day and naught else.

  Slowly, the crowd of well wishers dispersed, off to partake in the merriment that still enveloped the town, and later, the feast that would be the crowning event of the day.

  They stood, gazing at each other, Alyna’s face carefully schooled as to be blank and Warin’s with a trace of a smile. Shyness began to creep over her, leaving her tongue-tied and feeling a bit gauche.

  “Ahhh,” he sighed. “A fruitful day.” He placed the swords on the ground beside him and kicked at the bags piled up on the ground. They resounded with a satisfying ‘clink’.

  “You have won yourself much acclaim,” Alyna finally managed to stammer.

  “Aye.” Warin nodded his head. “My benefactor will be well rewarded for the loan of his equipage. Even so, the riches earned today should carry us both through to Paris, and you on to Caperun Keep.”

  Caperun Keep. Alyna had all but forgotten about it in the excitement of the day but now that he had mentioned it, she pictured it in her mind. The homesickness that always overwhelmed her at the thought of home did not smite her with as much intensity. Mayhap because of Warin’s company. Mayhap because home to her, increasingly, was at his side.

  She shook that thought aside. Hoping for something that would never be was useless. Warin had said he would take her safely to Paris and she could expect nothing more. From there he would be on his way to the monastery and out of her life forever.

  “It would seem he comes now.” She pointed to the man hurrying towards them. The chestnut and gray streaked beard that shrouded most of the man’s face couldn’t hide the obvious signs of delight, mainly the grin splitting the furry mop somewhere between his nose and his chest. He slid to a bandy-legged stop some three feet away, saluting as he did so.

  “Warin de Taillur, your display today impressed me. I’m honored to share in your success.”

  “Alyna Caperun,” Warin said, “may I present Bennet Lambert. Bennet, my sister, Alyna.”

  “My Lady Alyna, you grace us with your beauty.” Bennet swept a courtly bow, so low his beard almost touched the ground.

  Alyna inclined her head and clasped her hands demurely. What a droll little man, she thought, and a smile curved her lips at the merriment twinkling in Bennet’s eyes. Deeply set in his face, she found it difficult to determine the exact color. Brown, she decided. His eyes were a soft brown.

  “Your brother is fearsome on the jousting lists. Skill such as his is rare to see.”

  “Aye,” she replied. “He is the pride of Caperun Keep.” The statement spilled easily from her lips as if it were the truth.

  “Enough,” Warin interrupted. “Fortune smiled on me, for my foes were equally as skilled as I.”

  “Nay.” Bennet shook his head. “Verily, my lance has never equaled the numbers overcome by you this day. It’s fitting that it shattered with your last victory for none who would hold it again can surpass you.”

  Warin hefted one of the bags at his feet and tossed it to Bennet. “For you, sirrah. Your generosity has aided more than you could know. My sister and I thank you.”

  Bennet caught the bag and tucked it inside his hauberk within the space of a heartbeat. He turned away as if to go but hesitated slightly before turning back.

  “I am in need of company,” he said to Warin. “It matters not where you go.”

  Warin inspected Bennet thoroughly, taking a few moments to think on the tempting offer. He didn’t doubt his own abilities to guard Alyna, however another body to shoulder the responsibility would be welcome, as well as douse any concerns over her being alone in his company. And Bennet was firm and true and kind, that Warin knew from the other’s charitable action that had enabled him to participate in the joust. Too, if Bennet proved to be the man Warin thought, then he would have no qualms of passing Alyna over to the other man’s care once they reached Paris.

  The other man extended an arm and Warin clasped it, gazing into the now solemn eyes that met his without sliding away. A thousand unspoken words passed between them until finally, Warin nodded his head.

  “Welcome,” he said simply. “Your company is appreciated.”

  Another grin split Bennet’s beard and as quickly as a flash of lightning, his eyes twinkled again.

  A smile lifted Alyna’s lips and Warin’s heart lurched. She too, appeared to welcome Bennet as a newly found friend.

  They stood, the three of them, beaming at each other with pleasure.

  Warin broke the mood first. “God’s blood, we stand here like fools.” His voice was rough with emotion.

  “Aye, time passes us. And the feasting will have begun.” Bennet wiped the moisture from his eyes. “I must tend to my horses.”

  “Very well,” Warin nodded. “Alyna and I await you here. Tomorrow we leave for Paris.”

  “Aye, Paris beckons to me as well.”

  And me, Alyna’s thoughts echoed. Paris put her closer to England and parting ways with Warin. He sought a higher calling which did not include her and she must accept that.

  Bennet’s presence pleased her. The agreeable little man would provide a barrier between her and Warin and she no longer need worry about being un-chaperoned. With luck, Bennet could also shield her from her untoward thoughts of the knight who had rescued her.

  *****

  A boisterous, jovial atmosphere filled the great hall of the lord hosting that evening’s banquet. Serving wenches brought endless pitchers of ale, the acrobats and jongleur that had performed at the market earlier now entertained in the space between the tables, dogs sniffed about for scraps and a constant parade of people shuffled in and out. Some Alyna recognized as participants in today’s joust, others appeared to be friends of the lord and yet others appeared to be townspeople and merchants that somehow had managed to obtain an invitation to the festivities.

  The threesome found themselves wedged at a table just below the head table with their backs to the wall, Alyna in the middle flanked by Warin to her left and Bennet to her right.

  The smoke from the wall torches mingled with the sharp tang of crushed sage underfoot and with the sweet perfumes of those in attendance. The pungent, overpowering mix caused Alyna’s eyes to water. She took a few minutes to wipe them and wait for the tears to subside before turning to her new compatriot.

  “Bennet, tell us of yourself.” Alyna raised her voice against the din as she passed him a cup of ale.

  Bennet shrugged. “I’m a humble man, land-less like many others and like many others, would offer my service where it is needed in hopes of earning my keep.”

  “Yet you say England beckons you. How is that?” Her interest was genuine.

  “Although it has been many years since I trod on her soil, England is home. I have family there still, in Norfolk. They serve a lord of a small holding, one hard pressed to feed all the mouths in the winter.”

  “Aye,” Warin nodded in understanding. “It can be difficult for a small holding to support many.” He reached forward to help himself to a chunk of roasted boar then turned to Alyna as if to share.

  She shook her head and held up a hand, patting her stomach to show she was full. Thanks to the host�
��s generosity, courses of savory lark’s tongue pie, pheasant, salmon, and lamb had graced the table so far. The salmon had been her undoing and she was full to bursting. Even so, the trenchermen yet marched in with fully laden trays. Evidently the lord boasted a full larder.

  “I thought to make my own way and God willing, win lands of my own. Alas, it hasn’t come to be and so I travel from tournament to tournament, sometimes winning, sometimes not. I’m not starving but I don’t have that which I seek either. Now, I weary of the travel and would like to find a place to rest my head.” Bennet turned his head away to spit on the floor.

  “It isn’t much to ask, is it,” mused Alyna, “yet seemingly the simplest things are the most difficult to attain.”

  She had always taken her home and security for granted, for until recently, her father had been a good provider. However, Bennet’s admission made her realize that all were not as blessed as she.

  She wondered about Warin, for, other than Ada, he hadn’t made mention of family. He leaned back against the wall, seemingly relaxed although she could tell from the way his eyes darted about that he kept watch. His face gleamed in the flickering light from the torches, reflections that scampered across his face like so many unruly shadows.

  Actually, now she thought on it, Warin hadn’t confided much of himself to her at all. How odd. And how odd of her not to notice his reticence. The only truth she knew of him was that his participation in King Louis’ Crusade disturbed him. Yet as Warin’s supposed sister, she couldn’t ask. She must stifle her curiosity for now.

  “Alyna?” Warin’s voice was sharp. “Alyna, are you with us still?”

  “Oh, aye, aye,” she stammered. Deep in thought, she had lost the thread of the conversation.

  “They salute today’s victors.” He rose to his feet.

  “Of course.” Alyna stood to join the rest and grabbed her goblet, holding it aloft to the cheers and huzzahs ringing through the hall. A tide of faces turned their way and she realized the toasts were for Warin. She continued to hold her goblet aloft as she turned towards him.

  “To you,” she whispered, “to my savior knight.” It didn’t matter if he heard her or not, she only wanted to give voice to what she felt. Then she raised her voice and joined in with the rest.

  “To the victor!”

  “The victor!”

  “De Taillur!”

  “Blessings upon you!” This from the castle priest seated only a few benches away.

  Warin accepted the accolades graciously, standing tall and responding with a salute of his own. “To all whom were vanquished today, may you find good fortune at the next tourney!”

  In the exuberance of the moment, he grabbed Alyna about the waist and pulled her close with one arm whilst holding up his goblet in the other. She leaned into him, soft and warm. Warin glanced down and caught the admiration shining from her eyes and, on an impulse, kissed her lightly.

  It was as if a red hot poker stung him on the mouth.

  For an ethereal moment, the young woman at his side became the center of his world. He pulled his head back to gaze upon her. All about them faded away until only Alyna’s body pressed against his, her face, achingly sweet, blue green eyes glowing with unspoken promise, tilted up towards him with lips parted slightly. He couldn’t ignore the blatant invitation of the delectable mouth and kissed her again, slowly, thoroughly, tasting everything she had to offer.

  The play of lip upon lip, body upon body, diminished the distress that assailed him constantly. In Alyna’s arms, he found his haven.

  Her lips parted. Cautiously, as if prying a pearl from an oyster, he coaxed her mouth further open with the pressure of his lips. Finally gaining the access he sought, he played his tongue against hers, probing, flicking, teasing a response. Blood pounded in his ears, his heart threatened to explode and his loins quickened with desire.

  And Alyna was not unaffected, for her body softened against his, her arms crept around his neck, and she clung to him as if she would collapse if she lost her grip.

  He held her even closer, circling his arms about and grasping her as if she were a will o’ the wisp that might escape at any second.

  He could not let go.

  He would not let go.

  And try as he might, he could not pull his mouth away from the fountain of sustenance he’d discovered beneath his very feet. Unsought, unexpected, unearned, a higher power had thrown into his path the wonder he now held in his arms.

  Dimly, he became aware of cheers and laughter swirling about them, the ribald comments that flew at them about their unbefitting display.

  Regretfully, he tore his lips from hers, although he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her face. Wonderment veiled her features and she touched her lips with trembling fingers as if to keep close the sensation.

  Suddenly aghast at his behavior, he pushed her away, abruptly, roughly, then stepped back. Her eyes as he did so showed hurt and confusion, wounded eyes that would haunt him later.

  By the Virgin Mary, had he no decency? What had overcome him to compromise her in the public eye? The tongues would wag loud and long, for no brother kissed a sister as he had just done. Indeed, no decent knight would ever kiss the object of his affections in such a blatant manner.

  And what of his plan to become a monk? One kiss had thrown that into jeopardy. How weak he was, how wretched, to so easily forget his pending pledge to the Almighty.

  Shame over his action doused his desire as thoroughly as a bucket of water doused a fire. He sank down, full of self-disgust and bewildered more than he cared to admit by what had just happened. Too, his lack of control could cost her dearly.

  More cheers and laughter sounded as another couple, thinking it a game, joined in with a passionate embrace of their own. Thankfully, it drew the attention away from Warin and Alyna.

  “Look, here comes Bennet.” Alyna braced herself against the table for her hands shook and her stomach churned. So dazed was she from what had just passed between her and Warin that she hadn’t even noticed Bennet’s absence.

  She studiously watched their new companion wend his way around the tables, anything to keep her gaze from straying to the man at her side.

  Her response to Warin had been undeniable. Brazenly, she had fallen into his arms, opened herself to him. She had returned his kisses eagerly and with a wanton disregard for propriety and the audience that had witnessed them. He must think her a harlot of the worst stripe. No wonder, then, that he had pushed her away so abruptly.

  Hands gripping the edge of the table, she plopped down, wiggling her bottom away from Warin as much as she could without being too obvious about it. She stiffened her back and held her head up, fighting the tears pricking at her eyes. She wouldn’t give Warin the satisfaction of seeing how he had upset her.

  “Where did you go?” Warin asked as Bennet reclaimed his seat. Warin’s voice was unsteady, his demeanor a little too nonchalant.

  Alyna was too far gone in misery and embarrassment to notice.

  Bennet, however, did.

  “The garderobes, there was a line.” Oho, Bennet thought in mirth, Alyna is no more your sister than I your brother.

  He’d watched the whole scene from the archway that led into the great hall. The patina of budding love shining from Warin and Alyna’s embrace couldn’t be missed, even to a new acquaintance such as he.

  And now, the discomfort felt by both his companions proved their growing attraction to each other. A grin tickled the corners of his mouth. Aye, the next few days with his newfound friends would be anything but dull.

  *****

  The closer they got to Paris, the busier the road became. And the busier the road became, the more attention Alyna garnered. And the more attention Alyna garnered, the more Warin hated it.

  “They look upon her as a sweet on a stick,” Warin growled to Bennet as they plodded along side by side.

  Alyna rode several horse lengths ahead. She urged her horse around an ox cart and for an ins
tant Warin glimpsed her graceful profile, framed by wisps of tawny gold hair. His breath caught in his throat. He would miss her.

  Bennet laughed. “She ignores them all. Her breeding shows.” His mien turned sober and he twisted in his saddle to catch Warin’s gaze. “What happens when we reach Paris?”

  “From there I go to Mont St. Michel.”

  “And Alyna?”

  Warin hesitated before replying. “I would ask you to take her to England. To her home in Gloucestershire.”

  “You would leave us?” Bennet’s eyebrows shot up; his mouth dropped open. Or at least Warin supposed it was his mouth, hidden behind the shaggy beard as it was.

  “Aye,” Warin nodded.

  “These are dangerous times. Three travelers are much stronger than only two.” As if to underscore Bennet’s words, four Crusaders, swords clanking and pennants fluttering, galloped past them.

  “It should be easy enough to find traveling companions,” Warin assured. “Many Englishmen travel through Paris on their way to and from the Holy Land.”

  “What’s so important you can’t come with us?”

  “I mean to serve the Lord from the sanctuary of Mont St. Michel.”

  “You?” Bennet snorted. “What a waste of your fighting skills.”

  Warin clenched his fist around the reins. Bennet stirred the doubt nestling in Warin’s gut. He couldn’t deny how he had enjoyed the tourney several days past, the clank of swordplay, the coppery scent of spilled blood, the surge of power as he stood over his defeated opponent.

  And he hated himself for it. He’d made up his mind to forswear fighting yet it still brought him great pleasure.

  “I will follow the path of peace.” He tilted back his head to watch a lone hawk circle overhead. A hawk. Was that a sign? If so, would not a dove be better?

  “Can’t you deliver her first?” Bennet grumbled. “She is highly born, surely we would receive recompense.”