A Knight for Love

by A. M. Westerling

  “Drink.” She took the cup from Bennet and passed it over to Robert.

  He did so, wiping his mouth with the other arm when finished. Alyna noted with some amusement he didn’t relinquish his hold on the half-filled cup, keeping it secure in a white knuckled fist.

  No sooner had she finished with Robert than Fordwin limped towards her, hose bloodied and torn.

  “Rock,” he croaked. “I was too busy watching for arrows and didn’t see the catapult.”

  “Catapult? Are they that many that they can attack on two counts?” She had been so busy with Robert she hadn’t heard the shouts and pounding but she could hear them now.

  And underlying all, the steady thud thud thud of the ram being applied to the gates. The battle had reached a higher level, no longer a game of cat and mouse but full pitched battle.

  A full pitched battle where men could be, would be hurt, killed even. A shiver ran up her spine.

  An image of Warin crossed before her eyes, body lying broken and bloodied on the ground. Nay, she shook her head hastily, tossing away the disturbing thought. She craned her head trying to find him, to assure herself that he yet stood tall and strong, but she couldn’t see him.

  “Lady Alyna?” Fordwin’s kind voice reminded her where she was.

  She turned back and began to work on his shin, tearing the fabric away to wash and dress the wound. The nasty scrape didn’t require stitches and soon she finished the task.

  Horror filled her when she saw him get up and walk back towards the battlefield.

  “You return to the fight? Aren’t you hurt?”

  “Nay.” Fordwin grinned at her obvious consternation. “See?” He took a step to demonstrate. “Your touch is so deft and the binding so secure that the leg bothers me naught. I am a knight and must do what a knight does. And that is,” he bowed in her direction, “fight. I beg your leave, my lady.”

  She watched him walk away until he disappeared up the road. He limped so the leg pained him but she admired his dedication and tenacity.

  The sun finally crested the treetops and its rays slanted across the clearing, falling warm against her cheek. A squirrel chattered angrily at her from the edge of the clearing as if it blamed her for the ruckus.

  “I care naught for it either,” she retorted, then smiled at the foolishness of holding conversation with a squirrel.

  “Alyna?”

  “Aye?” She whirled about, flustered that Bennet had caught her in discussion with the little creature.

  Excitement laced Bennet’s face. “The ram is almost through!”

  Crack! No sooner had he spoken than the squealing splintering of solid wood rolled through the woods.

  Bennet and Alyna stared at each other. Comprehension dawned immediately – the gates had been breached. They hurried out of the camp to see, Alyna first, holding her skirts so as not to stumble, Bennet behind, excited but cautious as always. He pulled her back as they tumbled to a stop at the forest’s edge, at the spot where the road broke free of the woods and meandered upwards to the castle. Shouts rang through the air.

  “We are through!”

  “To battle! To battle!”

  “Aye, the gate is down!”

  Alyna glimpsed Warin, sword in air, leaping through the opening, surrounded by the stalwarts bring up the rear. The ram, now unmanned, sat askew in the middle of the wreckage, still swinging slightly in its rope bed.

  The shouts and cries diminished as the men surged through the broken gate and disappeared behind the stone walls. Bennet and Alyna looked at each other, smiles wreathing their faces.

  “The siege is over. Caperun Keep is breached!” Alyna exclaimed.

  “Naught is certain,” Bennet cautioned. “There could still be much fighting.”

  “Nay, Bennet. I feel in my bones that Caperun Keep is ours again.”

  Without thought, “ours” had slipped across her lips. She had still to step across the threshold as wife of Warin yet she already considered Caperun Keep to be the home of her and Warin. And Bennet of course, if he chose to stay.

  Her smile lingered as she turned and walked back to check on Fordwin. Tonight she, Warin, and the men would be well and safely ensconced within the keep.

  *****

  The stillness of the castle disturbed Warin.

  It was quiet. Too quiet.

  All had escaped, apparently through the postern gate. Only a few defenders had been left to divert the attackers while the rest disappeared into the night previous.

  And even those few had been able to beat a hasty retreat during the scant moments it took to actually batter through the gate, for he had not thought to guard the rear of the castle. Nay, he had thought of it but dismissed it due to lack of manpower.

  He should be happy no more warfare would be needed, but he wasn’t. The defenders had fled rather than fight. That meant only one thing – they would return to fight another day. Mayhap his decision not to guard the postern had not been a wise one but he couldn’t change that now.

  “Our foe is gone.” Gerard stood beside him. “But they could come back to rekindle the fight.”

  “My thoughts exactly, Gerard,” Warin growled. “But it will not happen tonight or even tomorrow or next week. We have time to mend the entrance for if they decide to return, they must arm and fortify themselves first. We have time, Gerard.”

  “Or should we follow them while the trail is fresh? Destroy them now that they’ve left the sanctuary of the keep?”

  Warin glanced at him then shook his head. “Right now I’ve no taste for bloodshed. They’ve run off like the cowards they are so leave them run.” Giving chase did not fit into his immediate plans. He wanted Alyna to spend the night safely within the keep.

  “As you wish.” Gerard inclined his head.

  “Take half the men and check the bailey,” Warin commanded. “The outbuildings and sheds could harbor fugitives. I’ll take the rest and check the keep.”

  But other than a very frightened stable boy hiding in a hayrack and a serving maid cowering beside the fireplace in the kitchen, Caperun Keep was indeed empty.

  By all appearances, it had been a planned retreat for the castle had been ransacked. Anything that could be carried out was gone.

  Thankfully, Warin thought, rubbing his jaw as he surveyed the great room, the damage is relatively minor. A few pots gone, some tapestries and candles, all easy enough to replace.

  And replace as Alyna would wish. It was, after all, where she had grown up. She would know what she liked and how she wanted it. He relished the idea of Alyna as the lady of the manor. She would excel, of that he had no doubt. In fact, he would truly enjoy seeing her take charge of the housekeeping duties.

  A very relieved Warin strode purposefully down the road back towards the camp to recover his lady wife. His first impressions of Caperun Keep had been sound. The fine structure would serve very well as the new home of Caperun and de Taillur blood. They could rebuild and turn it into a home.

  Then his steps slowed until he stood stock still in the centre of the road. Had he followed the right course in letting his foes slip away?

  Aye, he decided. Alyna must be kept safe within Caperun Keep. Even damaged from the siege, the keep itself would be easier to defend.

  Another, more disturbing thought rose. Those he loved before had died in a raid due to his carelessness. Would history repeat itself if Philippa and her men mounted a reprisal? If so, how could he protect that which was his? How many more men would he have to face in battle for the name of good?

  A wavering image of a monk’s pallet and bare stone walls fluttered through his mind. To hide in a monastery proved naught. This was his chance to gain forgiveness.

  By bringing new life to Caperun Keep, bringing new life from his loins into the world, and most of all, bringing to life Alyna’s love.

  Wouldn’t that give him the peace of mind he sought? Aye, he decided. It would.

  With a light heart he sprinted towards the camp.


  Chapter Sixteen

  The grin covering Warin’s face when he entered the camp transformed his appearance, making him, to Alyna’s mind, boyish and carefree.

  “Alyna! Bennet! We are through! Caperun Keep is ours!” He shouted the news to the very heavens although she had no doubt the Almighty already knew. But it wouldn’t hurt to remind Him.

  “Aye, my lord Warin. We heard the excitement and ran to the road just in time to see you through.” Alyna beamed at him. “Bennet and I had no doubt the castle would be soon recovered.” She curtsied towards Warin. “I thank you, my lord.”

  “It is not I who should be thanked, but rather King Henry.” He grabbed her hands and swung her about.

  “Then we must make certain to do so.” She was breathless with happiness, and yes, surprise, for the youthful Warin standing before her now resembled not at all the brooding man who usually occupied her thoughts.

  “But not tonight, tonight we enjoy our victory.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her along with him. “Come, Alyna. I promised you a roof over your head this eve and the day passes.”

  She giggled and matched her pace to his. Their feet must have had wings, so quickly did they cover the ground. In no time at all, they stood before the gate and in unison, they paused. Warin pulled her about to face him.

  “I must warn you, Alyna, they ransacked it. Only the furniture remains, some is tipped over and some in broken pieces. Oh,” he added, “and a few hangings remain that are too high on the wall to easily remove. The keep has been involved in warfare and you mustn’t expect the home that you left.” He squeezed her hand. “Ready?”

  “Ready.” She nodded. “It is to be expected. I’m ready.”

  “Then enter, my lady.” He bowed low and swept his arm. “Enter and welcome to our castle.”

  She stepped carefully about the wreckage that had been the gate and through.

  Her first impression was that the bailey had never been so cluttered. Not surprising, for objects had been lobbed over the walls during the siege but still, she concluded, shaking her head, no attempts had been made at all to set things to rights. On the contrary, it seemed as if the defenders wished to show their scorn by leaving the keep in deliberate disarray.

  Her impression was more than confirmed when she entered the great hall. Appalled, she stopped in her tracks and covered her mouth with her hands.

  “Is the hate filling Philippa so great that she must show it in the destruction of a home that is no longer hers?” She whispered the words, not expecting an answer.

  Benches and trestles lay about as if kicked by a giant but Warin had made no mention of the piles of garbage, the human waste smeared on the walls and the dank odor of urine.

  “Odso, has human decency so left her that she, who has always been meticulous with the housekeeping, could stoop to such depravity?” Alyna simply couldn’t comprehend the hate yet clinging to the room like a malevolent spirit. She shivered and crossed herself, trying to find sense in the disorder.

  “War does strange things to people,” Warin moved to stand beside her and pulled her close. “It’s not always the glorious pastime the minstrels praise and the nobility exhort.”

  “Aye, but this?” Alyna gestured to the few tatters of a remaining tapestry.

  The rest had been ripped down and stomped into the rushes and filth below. Even the dogs had become strangers, snapping and snarling at her although they had been in the house since whelped.

  She took a few steps forward and turned about slowly. Aye, as Warin had said, the few tapestries hanging high on the walls remained, including the Caperun coat of arms that she had labored long hours over. She clasped her hands. That must be a good omen then and she would take it as such.

  Her eyes wandered about. Wall sconces had disappeared but not the two flanking the fireplace. The trestles and benches could easily be righted, the rushes swept out and burned. There were brushes and lye aplenty in the kitchen for washing the filth. Truly, it was not as bad as it had first appeared.

  “Have you been upstairs? In the solar?” Her question was wary, as if she didn’t wish to know the answer but knew she couldn’t avoid it.

  “Only briefly,” replied Warin. “To look for defenders. It’s not as bad as down here. Shall we look?”

  “Aye,” she nodded. “It’s hard for me to decide what must be done before night falls unless I see all that there is.”

  “As you wish, Alyna.” He stepped back to follow her up.

  The solar had fared somewhat better in that it contained not nearly the filth of the great hall. The bed lay bare, stripped down to its leather thongs and the lid to the trunk was open, contents spilled over the side and onto the stone floor. Ash and charcoal filled the fireplace but all in all the room was presentable.

  “Good.” She stood in the doorway, head cocked, fists on her hips. “Mayhap we can set the men to clearing out the hall below. Oh, and our bed coverings will have to be fetched and the fireplace swept. I can tidy the trunk, for it was one I shared with Philippa.” That task would be enjoyable for she recognized some of her clothing draped over it and it would be welcome indeed to change. “Now, to the kitchen.”

  “Of course.” Warin quirked an eyebrow and a smile played about the corner of his lips, his azure eyes warm upon her. He tipped his head towards the door. “After you, Alyna.”

  She looked at him suspiciously. Did he mock her?

  Nay, his face was open and guileless. Again, she marveled at the change in him for the fierce warrior had vanished.

  If only it was as it appeared, a gentle man focused only on his home and his lady wife. She sighed and straightened her shoulders. Mayhap one day it would be.

  They left the solar and headed back downstairs.

  Warin, spying Gerard in the great hall, stopped. “The kitchen is your realm, not mine,” he said to Alyna. “Gerard and I and the men will begin here. Not the work of fighting men.” He eyed the piles of filth. “But honest work that must be done.”

  “Aye,” Alyna nodded. Another surprising side to her lord husband had appeared, for her father and brother would never have considered tackling what they considered to be the work of underlings. Even if it meant they had to sit in filth.

  Not so Warin. His humility was an endearing quality.

  As she walked away, she heard him in conversation with Gerard, his voice firm and measured, truly the voice of a great lord.

  *****

  “Maid Alyna!” A voice screeched as Alyna entered the kitchen.

  Emma, cerulean eyes wide with disbelief, plump form covered with a linen apron, stood dumbfounded beside the fireplace. A dripping spoon dangled from one hand. She was obviously in the midst of stirring the pot hanging over the coals. The scent of stewed lamb, her specialty, mingled with that of crushed herbs. Trenchers of bread were laid out on the center table, waiting for the fragrant mixture.

  “Emma!” Alyna rushed over to give her friend a warm embrace. “How did you fare during the siege? Was it difficult? Why didn’t you leave?”

  “I was here when the invaders entered. They did me no harm but I do as I am bid.” Emma gestured towards the simmering stew. “A funny man, more beard than face, told me to cook, so I do.”

  The tears began to run down Alyna’s face at the familiar scene of Emma in the kitchen. Tears of joy? Relief? Fatigue? Or mayhap a combination?

  Seeing Emma’s startling blue eyes reminded her how much she had missed her friend and her home.

  “I’m sorry,” Alyna hiccupped, wiping her eyes with the corner of her tunic. “So much has passed, I scarce know where to start. And your ‘funny man’ is named Bennet. A kinder, gentler man you’ll never find.” She dabbed at her eyes again as the tears started afresh.

  “Then let me tell my tale,” Emma replied, wisely seeing that Alyna needed some time to collect her composure. She put the spoon in the pot, pulled a stool over and gestured for Alyna to sit. When Alyna had settled herself, she began.

  “At
first, when Philippa realized you had taken your horse and run away, she was furious. The words that flew from her mouth—” Emma paused and shook her head. “But it wasn’t too long before she saw her chance and began to scorn the Caperun name. I tried to remind her it was the same blood that flowed through the veins of her late husband but she denied it, claiming instead that Hugh was an imposter who had stolen her birthright. We all knew the truth but none could prove it.”

  Again Emma shook her head and a few frizzy blonde curls sprung free from her scarf. “It was just easier to go along with her claims for those of us still here had no doubt that one day Hugh and David and you would return. But then only Baldric came back, claiming that Simon had betrayed him, and that David had died in France while you continued on Crusade.”

  “Nay,” Alyna said bitterly. “It was the other way. He betrayed us, stealing our horses and leaving us without means. What a blow to see him standing beside Philippa for I had hoped him dead.”

  “He became Philippa’s greatest ally. Then came the news of Hugh’s death.” Emma stopped and shrugged. “Although there was no mention of it, we assumed you had died also. Philippa’s hold on the keep was firm and with Baldric behind her, we had no choice but to comply with her demands.”

  “Philippa may claim to Caperun blood but she is a witch.” Alyna’s voice was venomous.

  “Aye, that she is.” Emma nodded her head. “Then you returned and we saw that you still lived but by that time Odo, all, had been poisoned by her evil mind. No, not all,” Emma corrected herself, “my father left when he saw her true nature and wanted me to go with him. I refused for I wished to stay with Odo.” She flushed.

  Alyna said nothing, waiting for Emma to continue.

  “None wanted to admit the rightful heiress had returned and that is when I realized how Philippa’s influence had spread, for even Odo had changed, refusing to acknowledge you.” Emma’s eyes were downcast and she began to fidget with her fingers. “It was a blow, to be sure, to have held myself behind for a man who lacks conviction and loyalty. Even so, I still could have left but I was too ashamed to admit that I had misjudged him.”