by Chuck Black
Bentley was mesmerized by the beauty of the scene. He couldn't resist the urge to draw closer to this living canvas and touch the textured colors of the masterpiece. He made his way up the bank toward the base of the falls. Here the river widened so that the waters flowed much more slowly. At many places the river bottom rose up to within inches of the surface, where large flat rock shelves invited him to wade in the sparkling waters.
Bentley looked up again and noticed that there were actually two falls—a larger one that poured itself into the river near where he stood, and a smaller one off to the far side of the river. A craggy vertical rock formation divided the waters before they plummeted to the pools below.
Bentley breathed in deeply of the refreshing mist, invigorated by the sounds, smells, and magnificent beauty of the scene. He lingered for a moment and then turned to leave, but just then he heard the muffled whinny of a horse. At first he thought perhaps he had imagined it, for it was quickly lost in the thunderous sound of the falls. He listened again but heard nothing. Then came the jingle of a harness and the unmistakable scrape of hoofs.
He followed along the bank, making his way closer to the falls until he reached a peninsula of rocks that jutted far out into the shallow pool of water not far from the base of the falls. He looked toward the lesser falls, which were partially hidden by the large rock formation that separated the waters. Just over the ledge of the lower portion of the rocks, he spotted a horse, a wagon, and Parson tending a fire on the far bank of the river.
Bentley smiled. He removed his cloth shoes, lifted the bottoms of his trousers past his knees, and waded into the bracing waters of the falls’ base pool. The farther he waded across the pool, the more he could see of the lesser falls. They were gentler falls, for only a fraction of the water spilled over the tree-high crest, and at places the water separated in midair into a shower of sparkling droplets.
Bentley waded out farther and deeper. He finally relented and allowed his trousers to become soaked. He came to the edge of the submerged rock shelf he was standing on and peered once more toward the falls and the far shore of the river.
He was now twenty paces away from the base of this falls and just on the near side of the rocky formation that separated the two falls. He could see clearly around the rocks to the lesser falls. There beneath the cleansing wash of the lesser falls he saw a young woman. She stood knee-deep in the shallow base pool wearing a full-length white undertunic, her face turned upward into the gentle spray.
It was Eirwyn, and yet it wasn't Eirwyn.
Bentley could not stop staring, for this Eirwyn was simply beautiful.
BECAUSE OF THE
GARDENER
Bentley dived into the water and swam to the rocky formation, where he found an arched tunnel. The waters from the lesser falls could pass through here, but most of the current was around the far end of the formation. Bentley swam through and into the pool of the lesser falls, keeping close to the edge and as much out of sight as possible. He watched as Eirwyn took a cloth and rubbed her face, hair, and teeth in the falling waters. He could hardly believe it was the same woman.
She ran her hands from her forehead down her long, dark hair once more and then dove into the pool, completely unaware of Bentley's presence. He felt quite devious for having spied upon her, but the creature he saw so entranced him that he could only draw nearer.
He swam to a large rock near the falls and stayed on the side away from Eirwyn. When she was looking the other direction, he climbed onto the rock and sat down. The sound of the falls hid any noise he made, so it was an easy ploy. He was now only three paces away.
“Hog farmer, you say?” he said.
Eirwyn screamed and turned about quickly in the water. “You… you…,” was all she could say.
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you so terribly.”
Eirwyn's face morphed quickly from fear to anger. She began to swim away.
Bentley slipped into the water after her. “Wait, Eirwyn—or is that really your name?”
She continued to swim toward shore, and Bentley followed her.
“Eirwyn, please… I want to know more about you.”
He swam past her and came to another rock shelf that was a few inches beneath the water line. She stopped and treaded water, waiting for him to move.
“Please talk to me… just for a few minutes. That's all I ask.”
Bentley stole a glance toward shore and saw that Parson was coming toward them quickly. His large feet pounded through the shallow water, and the fierce expression on his face unnerved Bentley.
Eirwyn's scowl slowly disappeared from her face. “Why should I trust a man who would sneak up on me so?”
Bentley lifted himself up and into a sitting position on the rock shelf.
“Why should I trust a woman whose speech becomes refined with a simple shower?” He held out his hand to her as he looked over his shoulder at Parson's approaching hulk.
She hesitated, then took his hand. He lifted her onto the rock ledge beside him, and Eirwyn made a hand gesture to Parson. He stopped, glared at Bentley, and then turned back toward shore. With a sigh of relief, Bentley looked at Eirwyn, who seemed to enjoy his uneasiness. She gave him a smile, and Bentley was momentarily dazed by its radiance. Her teeth were now white, and her kind and gentle eyes seemed a close companion to the warmth of her smile. Strange feelings swelled up within him as he looked into her eyes, seeing her for the first time as she truly was.
“I think you rather enjoyed that,” he said, and her eyes sparkled with delight. “Who are you, Eirwyn? Certainly not the daughter of a hog farmer.”
“No, I am not.” She looked out over the pool of water and took a deep breath, then turned her gaze back to Bentley and studied his eyes intently. “I am Lord Kingsley's daughter.”
Bentley opened his mouth to speak but could think of nothing to say. Eirwyn… the Ice Princess? He could hardly make himself believe it. He closed his eyes and filled his mind with the image of the painted white face of Lord Kingsley's daughter in the dining hall. He opened his eyes, and there she was. The features were identical. Now he could see it.
“But how did you—Why did you—” he stumbled.
“Only Parson knows, and now you.” Her countenance fell. “And one other.” She grabbed his arm. “You mustn't tell a soul, Bentley. I don't even know why I told you. I guess… you just seem like someone I can trust.”
He nodded solemnly. “Your secret is safe with me.”
Eirwyn pulled her legs up in front of her and rested her chin on her knees. “I'm tired of pretending, but I don't know what else to do.”
Bentley found himself staring at Eirwyn, struggling to mesh the two very peculiar characters of the Mercy Maiden and the Ice Princess into the enchanting young woman who now sat just an arm's reach away.
“Why do you do it?” he asked.
Eirwyn gazed into the rippling water and its mesmerizing rhythm, as if it were a window into her past. “I do it because of the gardener.”
Bentley was confused. “The gardener?”
“My father has always had many servants and groundskeepers to manage the gardens. He told us that we were only to interact with them to the extent that was required for them to do their duties, for we were a higher class of people.” Eirwyn slowly shook her head back and forth. “Although I obeyed my father, I never understood why it was supposed to be like that. There were children around the manor I could never play with because they were the children of common people, and that just didn't seem right.
“One day I was walking through a garden, and one of the grounds-keepers began to talk to me. I was very surprised, because if he had been caught, he would have been punished. He was so kind and gentle. I visited him every day in the garden, and we became friends. He secretly taught me how to grow beautiful flowers and care for them season after season.”
Eirwyn paused. Her dreamy, peaceful countenance was a delight for Bentley to behold as she recalled fav
orite memories for him.
“He taught me much more than gardening. Because of him, I learned that my father was wrong. The more my father mistreated the peasants, the more I realized I had to do something to help them.” Eirwyn broke her trance from the water and looked into Bentley's eyes. “The gardener taught me that, whether peasant or nobleman, every person is precious. I came to despise the monthly parades my father orchestrated. They embarrassed me. I love my father, but he can be a hard man. Opposing him openly was not an option for me, so I looked for other ways to help the people.”
Eirwyn chuckled.
“What is it?” Bentley asked.
“The gardener even played swords with me. At least I thought it was play, but after several years I found that I had learned much about using the sword.”
“Really?” Bentley said with a little more surprise in his tone than he had intended.
Eirwyn didn't seem offended but just nodded and smiled.
“Do you still meet with the gardener?” Bentley asked.
Eirwyn dropped her gaze, and her countenance fell slightly. “I have not seen him for years. When my father made an agreement with Sir Avarick and invited him into the court, the gardener disappeared. I think he could not bear how harsh Avarick was with the people. I asked all of the other servants, but no one seemed to know anything.”
The remnant afternoon heat was diminishing, and Eirwyn began to shiver as they sat in the shallow water.
“You're cold,” Bentley said. “Shall we go to the fire?”
Eirwyn nodded. He helped her up, and they walked to the shore, where Parson was adding a log to the fire. At first the huge man looked sternly at Bentley, but Eirwyn made two quick motions with her hands and gently touched his arm. He nodded and then walked to the wagon.
Bentley and Eirwyn warmed themselves, and their clothes slowly began to dry. Parson returned and offered them each a warm cup of broth and some bread. Eirwyn sat on a large log and closed her eyes as she swallowed the broth and soaked up the warmth of the fire.
“Is it true that your father hired Sir Avarick and his men to protect the court from the mountain raiders?” Bentley asked, remembering what Walsch had told him. He sat beside her, acutely aware of Parson's wary glance.
“Yes. The Lucrums began to raid us often. Sir Avarick came with twenty-five warriors and offered to train our knights to defend the castle and Father's lands. At first it seemed like an answer to all of our problems, but Sir Avarick oppressed the people in ways my father never did. He began to advise Father on how to gain wealth by forcing the people to work harder and taxing them even more. That pleased Father, and so Avarick has become a powerful man in the court. Avarick fueled my father's greed until it became an obsession.”
Eirwyn looked at Bentley, and a fire of determination kindled in her dark brown eyes. “I had to do something, even if it was small. I made it a habit to take horseback rides every day. My father would only allow it if one of the knights accompanied me. After relentless persuasion, I convinced my father to agree to let Parson escort me instead.” Eirwyn smiled and looked toward the huge servant, who had taken to grooming the horse.
Bentley laughed. “I can see why you chose him.”
“He's as gentle as the gardener—as long as I'm not threatened.” Eirwyn smiled at Bentley. “We became friends, and I learned to talk to him using hand gestures. One day on our ride, he took me to a farm where a little boy had died because he fell ill and was too weak to recover.”
Eirwyn's eyes filled with tears. “I was so saddened by that family's sorrow that I knew I had to do something to help. It felt like their grief was my fault. When Father and Sir Avarick were away on business to Thecia, I came up with a crazy idea to masquerade as a hog farmers daughter and bring supplies to the people who needed help.” Eirwyn laughed as a cover for her sadness and lifted her hand to wipe away the unspilled tears from her eyes.
Bentley reached out and touched her arm. “You're a brave girl, Eirwyn, and you've made such a difference.”
“It's not enough”—she shook her head—“not nearly enough.”
A long moment of silence passed. Bentley marveled at his surprising discovery. He was grateful for the influence of the gardener—whoever he was—in Eirwyn's life. That man had cultivated not only the flowers of the court, but the beautiful and merciful heart of a maiden who had the courage to make a difference.
“What of your brother, Braith?” Bentley asked. “Have you tried to reach him?”
Eirwyn shook her head. “He fell under Avarick's influence almost from the beginning, and Avarick trained him in the ways of a warrior. He has become as greedy as my father and nearly as heartless as Avarick. Braith thinks Avarick is a hero and would follow him anywhere. I've tried to speak to him, but it is useless. When my father brought Avarick into the court, he lost a son and I lost a brother.
“I've never spoken to anyone about this,” Eirwyn said with a look of regret. “I don't know why I told you. I don't even know who you are.” She looked at Bentley as though she were seeing him for the first time. Her eyes narrowed and filled with questions.
“I am just a commoner, my lady.” He gave a quick smile, then looked away.
“Then I should wish that all men were as common as you,” Eirwyn said. “Thank you for your help.”
Bentley looked back at her and realized in that moment that she had captured his heart—completely and inescapably. Though he had not come to Holbrook for any such thing and had purposely avoided the world of romance, he simply could not resist the splendor of her spirit. He was amazed at the new and powerful feelings of love that stirred within him.
Parson brought Eirwyn a gown, and Bentley assumed it was the clothing she'd worn when she left the castle earlier that day.
“Parsons right.” Eirwyn nodded to her large accomplice. “The day is well spent, and people will begin to wonder.” She excused herself and disappeared behind some thick brush to change. She returned wearing the modest but beautiful gown of a lady and sat next to Bentley once again while Parson made final preparations to be on their way.
“Why didn't you talk to me when I was a prisoner in the castle?” Bentley asked.
“Remember the day you were captured? I confronted Sir Avarick to keep him from killing you, and he then realized who I was. He threatened to tell my father what I was doing and to kill you if I ever talked to you or tried to help the people again. He believes peasants are to be used solely for monetary and political gain and nothing more. That is why he was so angry. For the daughter of Lord Kingsley to be talking to a peasant—”
“Lord Kingsley's daughter?” a deep, raspy voice exclaimed from the trees just a couple of paces behind them. “What a treasure we've found.”
Eirwyn cried out briefly, and Bentley jumped to his feet. He turned to see that just as he had been able to approach Eirwyn unnoticed, so had six mounted raiders…and one of them was undeniably the man who had started all the trouble at Holbrook Court.
The man they called the Ashen Knight.
THE ASHEN
KNIGHT
The Ashen Knight sat atop a pale gray horse that took on a ghostly glow in the fading light. The knight's armor matched the color of his horse and was clad with sharp spikes that protruded from his spaulders and gauntlets. Two winglike structures rose from the top of his helmet. His five companions were fierce, barbaric-looking men with wildly painted faces and some semblance of plated leather armor. Each of them brandished a gruesome sword.
Parson hurried to Eirwyn's left side. He clenched his hands repeatedly. The Ashen Knight removed his helmet and glared down at them through dark narrow eyes. A short black beard framed his mouth, which twisted into a sadistic laugh. An obviously disturbed spirit warped his otherwise handsome countenance. He and his men slowly sauntered their horses the last few strides into Eirwyn's temporary encampment.
“This is a fine catch indeed.” The Ashen Knight sat smugly on his steed and glared down at them through slitted e
yes. He nodded to his men, who dismounted and positioned themselves in a semicircle around Eirwyn, Bentley, and Parson.
Bentley cast about for some way of getting Eirwyn to safety, but he was unarmed. Fleeing wasn't an option, for the river was at their backs and the Ashen Knight was blocking their path to the trees.
Eirwyn stood and stepped forward to face the intruders. “Leave us be,” she said with dignity, “or you will suffer the wrath of my father. He has an army of knights, and you will suffer for your ill intentions.”
The Ashen Knight dismounted and strode toward her, his pale armor clinking, head lowered in mock humility. “A thousand apologies, my lady. I certainly meant no offense. I didn't realize you were so important.” He lifted his gaze from the ground to Lady Eirwyn, and then in one swift move he slapped her hard across the face. She doubled over to her right.
Bentley reached out to steady her and looked up at the man, desperately wishing for a sharp sword at his side. The Ashen Knight's five henchmen drew theirs—three on Bentley and two on Parson.
The Ashen Knight's face began to contort into a look of loathing. “I will destroy your incompetent father and his weak knights.”
Eirwyn recovered herself and stood straight. She gazed directly at him. “Those who seek to destroy will always find their own destruction,” she said quietly, her chin high.
Fury simmered on the pale knight's countenance. He moved closer to Eirwyn as the three knights on Bentley stepped forward and pushed him back with the tips of their swords. Eirwyn tried to evade the Ashen Knight, but he reached up quickly and grabbed her throat with his right hand. He began to squeeze; she pulled at his hand but to no avail.
Parson made an unintelligible but fearsome noise and pushed one of the swords away to come to Eirwyn's aid, but the raider plunged his sword into the poor man's chest. Eirwyn, still caught in the Ashen Knight's grip, gave a strangled cry.