A Knight for Love

by A. M. Westerling

  Warin shook his head. “I have no desire to return to England, recompense or no.”

  Bennet’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

  Warin groaned. “Enough of your questions, Bennet.”

  “I would ask you to reconsider. Surely the monastery can wait.”

  “No,” Warin growled.

  “It’s England, isn’t it?” Bennet’s eyes narrowed. “Something there pushes you away.”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “Well, it seems as if you’ve decided my business is the care of Alyna which means, yes, it is my business. I’ve no objection to taking her to England, it’s my home too. But I’ll remind you there is strength in numbers. Come with us,” Bennet coaxed.

  Warin scowled. “The weather there is repulsive.”

  “No more so than a monastery perched on an island in the sea. See her safely home and I’ll accompany you back to France.”

  Warin ignored Bennet and urged his horse forward. He couldn’t deny Bennet’s argument that the three of them traveling would be safer than only two. Too, many men had shown open admiration for her. How long before one, or more, accosted her?

  He gazed at Alyna’s back, at the swell of her hips and her shapely legs clinging to her mount. He loved her laughter, the way her nose wrinkled when she thought Bennet teased her, the constant scent of lily of the valley. Clean, fresh, pure.

  But he dreaded the wounds sure to open once he set foot on English soil. Even now, just at the thought, he could scarcely draw breath against the tingling in his chest and the sudden nausea.

  Yet the idea of a few more weeks with her, to drink more of her innocence, enticed him. Mayhap he needn’t risk dredging up the past by visiting the ruins of his home. He could take her straightway to Caperun Keep. He and Bennet. Once there, he would leave her and depart with a clear conscience. He would have fulfilled his responsibility to a young gentlewoman and seen her home safely. Surely that counted for something with the Almighty. Or would the Almighty view him as being selfish for wanting more time with Alyna?

  He squeezed his shoulders against the ache in his back then slowed his horse until Bennet caught up to him. “Very well, I’ll go with you. Once she’s safely home, I’ll return to France with or without you.”

  Bennet’s touched his cap. “It shouldn’t take long. A month, maybe two at the most.”

  A month or two, thought Warin. If Bennet spoke the truth, he would be back in France before the leaves turned color.

  He spurred his horse to catch up to Alyna, leaving Bennet to follow. Did he imagine it, or did Bennet’s chuckle float on the breeze?

  *****

  Hoof beats sounded behind Alyna. She turned her head as Warin pulled up beside her.

  “Bennet and I have decided to escort you to Caperun Keep.”

  “You’ve decided? Without including me in the conversation?” A brief surge of anger spurted through her then she shrugged it off. His offer deserved her gratitude.

  “It’s what you want, isn’t it? To return home?”

  Speechless, Alyna gazed at Warin. He believed Alyna would be welcomed. Mayhap she would be but she doubted Philippa would easily relinquish her hold until Hugh returned. Aye, Warin had said he would take her home but what then?

  If Philippa refused Alyna entry, he would likely insist on staying with her. She couldn’t ask that of him and his aching soul, when he’d already delayed joining the monastery just to return her to Caperun Keep.

  “But what of your desire to enter Mont St. Michel?”

  “To wait another month or two is not terrible.”

  If it’s only a month or two, she thought. It could be longer. The breeze picked up a lock of his hair and she watched the black strands flare in the breeze. To burden him further with her presence did not seem just yet he had offered, so how could she refuse him? She lifted her gaze to his. “Then I accept and gladly,” she replied woodenly.

  He shook his head, exasperation at her lack of enthusiasm showing in his eyes. “They’ll be pleased to see you. I’m sure they’ve thought you dead and gone all this time.”

  “I don’t know if they’ll be happy to see me.” Her shoulders sagged.

  “Nonsense, Alyna, you’re the daughter of the castle.”

  A castle without its lord, she thought. A castle in the grip of a ruthless woman who would stop at nothing to keep it.

  But she kept her apprehension to herself. Mayhap she worried for naught.

  Chapter Seven

  Caperun Keep stood solid as ever, its mismatched square towers huddled behind the stone curtain wall like a giant child’s toy. Smoke drifted from the cooking fires, topping the buildings with a hazy crown, and the stained glass window in the chapel glowed – Father Gilbert would be within, getting ready for evening devotions.

  Tears streamed down Alyna’s cheeks at the sight of the stone walls, protective yet warm and welcoming in the blaze of the setting sun. She pulled back on the reins of her mount to gaze at the familiar sight. A smile curved her lips when she glimpsed the lanky form of Odo, the guardsman patrolling the wall walk and with him, her dear friend and servant, Emma.

  She slumped into the saddle and closed her eyes. Nothing had changed. Truly, she was travel weary and thankful to be home.

  It wasn’t that the remainder of the journey had been wholly unpleasant. On the contrary, Bennet had proved to be a likable and jolly companion and had kept her and Warin much amused with his droll anecdotes and observations. Too, he had provided a bulwark betwixt her and Warin for, ever since his announcement he would indeed take her to Caperun Keep, the two had again become strangers, as distant as if they had never met. Sometimes, though, she had caught him staring at her as if he would devour her, with a gaze reaching into her very soul.

  And she did the same, stealing glances at him from beneath lowered lashes, dreading the day he would leave, yet welcoming it also for then she could forget about him. Mayhap.

  “It is a fine keep.” Warin’s voice was admiring.

  “A fine keep indeed,” Bennet echoed. The two men stayed behind her to allow her a few moments of reflection.

  “Aye,” she nodded, swiping her arm across her cheeks to dry them. “My father was fierce proud. Is fierce proud,” she corrected herself. Hastily she made the sign of the cross, hoping her slip of the tongue didn’t bode ill for her father. As far as she knew, he was alive and well in the Holy Land. With any luck, her Aunt Philippa would have news of him.

  “Come, home beckons!” Alyna spurred her horse and galloped up the road towards the keep, not seeing until she rounded the last curve that the gates were already closed against the encroaching night.

  She pulled up and waved to Odo and Emma. “Odo! Emma! It’s me, your mistress Alyna!” Even at this distance, she could see the horror that crossed Odo’s face as he backed away holding his pike before him until he disappeared from sight. Then, Emma’s round face appeared between two crenels.

  “Emma, it’s Alyna! Open the gates, let us in!”

  “Nay,” Emma shouted down. “Nay, you are a phantom sent to trick us. Alyna died these many months ago.”

  Odo appeared once again at Emma’s side. He peered down at the threesome then spat over the wall.

  “Get you gone,” he sneered. “I know full well the face of Alyna and it is not you.” He spat again, a foul glob that landed on the ground beside Alyna.

  “Odo, Emma, don’t you know me?” she cried. “Am I that changed that you deny me entrance to my own home?”

  “Alyna?” Warin’s voice was full of concern. “Is there a trick here?” He urged his horse forward a bit.

  “I don’t know.” She bit down hard on her bottom lip to stop from wailing her despair.

  “Alyna, something here isn’t right,” Bennet muttered. He nudged his mount closer.

  “I know, I know,” she replied, tears streaming again down her cheeks. “I don’t understand, Emma’s my dearest friend. And Odo has been guardsman for these many year
s. I don’t understand why they don’t recognize me.”

  “Emma!” She tried again, but both Odo and Emma had disappeared but not before closing the wooden shutters between the crenels, leaving her to shout to the empty heavens.

  “Come, Alyna,” Warin said gently. “We’ll make camp in the forest for the night. Tomorrow when we’re rested we’ll try again. The gates must be opened in the morning,” he assured her, “and in the full light of day they’ll recognize you.”

  “Aye,” she whispered, head drooping with dejection. How disappointing to be so close yet denied access. How could Emma not recognize her? Had her travels altered her appearance that much? Or did they follow Philippa’s orders?

  “It’s a misunderstanding,” Bennet interjected. “Come the morning, you’ll be welcomed with open arms.” He nodded, beard flapping.

  “Come,” Warin repeated. He leaned over and tugged on the bridle of her horse, turning her about and retreating a little ways down the road.

  Once in the shelter of the woods, he stopped at the first clearing. He slid off Citadel then held up his arms to Alyna, seemingly aware of her distress. She slipped down easily, though his kindness proved to be her undoing.

  In the comforting realm of his arms, Alyna opened up and voiced her sorrow and disappointment, keening and wailing until no sound could come, just a series of small hiccoughs that gradually trailed away into sniffles. Finally spent, she burrowed her face into the solace of his chest, drying the tears that glazed her cheeks.

  “Pray forgive me,” she managed to choke out, pulling her arms away to fold them across her middle.

  His hands fell to his side then with a stony face he stepped back and became once again the aloof stranger. If it were not for the patch of wetness staining his chest, she would have thought the entire episode had never passed.

  “We’ll eat well tonight,” Bennet interrupted cheerfully. He seemed unaware of the awkwardness that again enveloped his companions. Wisely, he had made himself scarce during Alyna’s outburst and had taken that opportunity to hunt. He hoisted aloft a fat hare and shook it in the air. “The lands about your keep are bountiful, Alyna. You are indeed fortunate.”

  “Aye, at one time,” she responded morosely, “but it would seem as if these are not mine to enjoy any longer.”

  “Don’t despair, a meal of fresh meat will make all your troubles seem smaller.” Already skinning the hare, Bennet’s kindly voice drifted over his shoulder while he concentrated on his task.

  Warin busied himself building the campfire then, excusing himself, disappeared into the gradually gathering darkness.

  Alyna watched Warin’s muscular back retreat until he could be seen no longer. She couldn’t tear her eyes away, couldn’t deny her attraction to him. Her skin tingled where he had held her and memories of the kiss they had shared the day of the joust, memories that she had managed to subdue, surfaced.

  She could still feel the throb of his lips on hers, remembered the flush of well being that had enveloped her. Could it be she was falling in love? And if so, was there a chance Warin might feel the same about her? Today, after holding her, it had seemed as if he loathed releasing her.

  Nonsense, she shook her head firmly. Nonsense. Warin simply followed the code of chivalry and had no personal feelings for her.

  Nonsense.

  *****

  Warin groaned and slapped at a branch that impeded his way. It had tried him sorely to see Alyna so beset by sorrow – he could only imagine the hurt she must have felt when denied access to Caperun Keep.

  After weeks of fighting the fascination she had for him, weeks of carrying the icy demeanor that so effectively stifled any conversation between them, having her in his arms again just now had stirred up the thoughts and feelings within him that had been so firmly tamped down.

  He groaned again.

  How foolish to yearn for what could not be. She was of a high class and he had nothing to offer her. No lands, no riches, only an empty man, scarred by what he had seen in his life, scarred by guilt. A man who meant to find peace by following a higher calling and a pure life.

  Once he had her settled at Caperun Keep, he would leave.

  *****

  They trotted up the road towards the keep the next morning, Warin in the lead, followed by Alyna and then Bennet. As Warin had predicted, the gates were open and they rode to the very foot of the curtain wall before being hailed by Odo.

  “Halt!” Odo’s voice rang firm and clear, followed by the unmistakable rumble of the drawbridge being lowered, gears squealing and guardsmen grunting with effort.

  “Let us pass,” Warin commanded. “I have Alyna Caperun with me, rightful daughter of Caperun Keep.” He eyed the open gate and the lowered drawbridge before nodding slightly to Alyna.

  Plainly, their little group wasn’t considered much of a threat. And why should they be, Alyna thought resentfully, she belonged here.

  “Nay, it is not so,” Odo spat. “For Lady Alyna is disappeared these many months and is dead.”

  “Odo, it’s me, I’m alive!” protested Alyna, standing up in the stirrups to allow Odo a better view of her.

  Warin twisted about in his saddle and held up a hand to silence her. “Alyna, I will deal with this.” He twisted back to look up at Odo.

  Alyna plopped back into the saddle again, thankful to have Warin with her. He would soon have them inside.

  “I am Warin de Taillur. And this,” he gestured to Alyna, “is Alyna Caperun, late of France.”

  “How can that be? How could Alyna Caperun be found in France?” Odo, smug in his assessment, rested his elbows on the sliver of wall between the crenels and looked down at them.

  “She was in the company of her brother, on the road to the Holy Land,” Warin replied.

  Odo shook his head in blatant disbelief, not awed by Warin in the slightest.

  “It’s true,” Alyna shouted, desperate to have Odo acknowledge her after his apparent disregard of Warin. “Ask Emma, she knows. I told Emma what I was about to do.”

  “And if that were so,” Odo growled, “then why has Emma kept that secret to herself?”

  “Just so,” said Alyna eagerly. “It was a secret. Emma would not betray me.”

  Odo pulled back and the low murmur of voices drifted on the morning breeze. Then, he reappeared.

  “We fetch Emma,” he announced. “She’ll tell us.”

  Odo disappeared again and the threesome waited on the road. From where they stood, Alyna could see through the arched gateway to the empty bailey beyond.

  The silent keep made her uncomfortable. No sound broke the still morning air – no hum of human activity, no voices, nothing. Even the birds had fallen silent as if all were in waiting.

  “Bennet, stand by me,” whispered Warin.

  Bennet, uneasiness rimming his eyes, nudged his steed to stand firm with Warin. He glanced over at Warin, pulling his horse closer. Alyna followed his lead and moved in to form a tight little pack.

  There was no obvious threat, but the secretive atmosphere suffocated her and a shiver ran down her back. She glanced about, almost expecting to see the devil himself dancing on the road behind them.

  Emma peeked over the wall, fearful, then suspicious, then bewildered.

  “Alyna?” she squeaked. “Is it you?” She poked at Odo at her side. “Odo, look! ‘Tis Maid Alyna returned!”

  Odo muttered something unintelligible then moved away, an unfathomable expression on his swarthy face. If Alyna had known better, she would have sworn Odo wasn’t at all happy to see her. Emma, however, leaned further out to take a closer look.

  “Maid Alyna! I vow it is you. Where have you been? We thought you dead and perished.” Joy lined her plump features, and her blue eyes sparkled as if lit from within by candles.

  “Emma, oh Emma, the tales I have.” Alyna let out a huge breath. Mayhap Warin had been correct. Mayhap the fading light the previous evening had made her unrecognizable. Mayhap her fears over Philippa were gr
oundless.

  “Pass,” Emma said. “I’ll meet you straight in the bailey.” And Emma promptly disappeared from sight.

  “Aye!” A happy smile graced Alyna’s lips and she beamed at Bennet and Warin as she pushed past them. “Come,” she exclaimed, pretending not to notice the blatant doubt and distrust on their faces.

  She clattered over the drawbridge and into the bailey. It had seen much activity lately for many feet had trampled the ground, leaving it hard packed dirt. Smoke curled from the smithy and fresh wood shavings littered the ground about the carpenter’s shed. The blacksmith and the carpenter, however, were nowhere to be seen.

  Before she could puzzle on that further, Emma barreled around the corner of the entrance turret and flung herself at Alyna’s legs.

  “Maid Alyna, I’m so happy to see you. Your long absence worried me but never once did your secret pass over my lips.”

  “And of what secret do you speak?” A haughty voice rang over the bailey and Alyna shriveled inside.

  Aunt Philippa. She sailed across the bailey towards them, ruby mouth compressed and two spots of matching color high on the ivory cheeks. A blue scarf covered her hair but Alyna knew the locks would be black as ebony with nary a gray hair.

  By the Virgin Mary, was she not even allowed the luxury of a few moments to collect herself, to savor the pleasure of being home, before doing battle with her aunt?

  Warin moved up beside her. Whether by purpose or simply by coincidence, Alyna could only surmise, but she took comfort in the fact that he sat at her side. Knowing that gave her courage and she lifted her chin and sat tall in her saddle. She wouldn’t give Philippa the pleasure of knowing the woman intimidated her.

  “My intent was to follow David and our father on Crusade.”

  “Oh, my,” Philippa sneered, violet eyes cold and lip curled. “How pious and profound of you. But,” she pointed at Alyna’s head where several unruly wisps of hair poked out from her scarf, “has your travel so ruined you that now you sit with hair almost shorn. Or tell me, is that the mode in the Holy Land? Shorn locks?” She smiled, a nasty grimace that cut Alyna to the core. “Nay, you’re not the Alyna of this house. That Alyna is long dead and buried. That Alyna was vainglorious and would never cut her hair. I am mistress here and I say you are not Alyna Caperun.”