The boy continued to look at them wide-eyed with fear.
“So I’m told that you’re a thief,” Jonathan said.
The boy swallowed. “Ye are mistaken, sire. I’m no thief.”
Jonathan quirked an eyebrow. “Then how do you explain your presence in a band of outlaws and thieves?”
“I swear, I haven’t stolen a thing in my life! I tended to the horses — the others, they did the thieving.”
“Then you are an accessory to the crimes,” Jonathan said mildly. “King Edward has given me special permission to hang those who commit crime.”
The boy’s face paled. He tried to put on a brave face, but his eyes shimmered in the torch light, the tears threatening to spill and shame him at any moment. He put out both palms, pleading. “Have mercy on me, sire. I don’t want to die,” he whispered hoarsely. “I took this job to survive. My parents are dead, and I have to support me and my little sister. They never told me that I could die because of my work.”
Who are these people that you work for?” Jonathan asked. His voice had gone soft, but there was no denying the dangerous edge underneath it.
“They say they’re knights,” the boy said. “I don’t know the name of the leader, but they say he’s the rightful heir to Blackburn.”
Jonathan and Gareth exchanged glances. There was one other person who would dare make such a claim.
“Take me to this man you speak of, and I may spare you your life.”
At the boy’s eager nod, Gareth bellowed for the goaler to release him from his chains.
***
The boy led them deep into the dark forest that was far beyond the village. The smell of damp leaves and dirt filled Jonathan’s senses. It rained earlier, and while the tree cover blocked out most of it, some rain still managed to leak through, leaving the ground wet and slippery. They left the horses partway through with one of his men and made the rest of the journey by foot. The boy picked through the foliage as if he made the trek a thousand times before, and soon Jonathan and a dozen of his men found themselves at the camp site.
The fire in the middle of the camp had burned out by the light rain, and the men there had abandoned their spot near the pit, seeking shelter under the trees and bushes that surrounded the camp site. The man who acted as the sentry slept huddled underneath a tree, his sword lying at his side, his head bent at an uncomfortable angle.
The boy beckoned Jonathan to come closer. “He sleeps over there,” he whispered, lifting a dirty finger and pointing toward the middle of the camp where a small tent was erected.
Jonathan motioned for his men to move into position. His men dispersed and quickly secured the camp with practiced efficiency. They gagged the sentry, and tied him up before he even realized what happened. And those who woke were silenced. In a matter of seconds, Gareth gave Jonathan the signal to move forward.
Jonathan blended in with the inky darkness of the forest, making his way into the canvas structure, his ears attuned to the slightest sounds. He could hear the man’s rhythmic snore that progressively became louder, and then when it reached its peak, the snore abruptly stopped, only to start up again.
Jonathan inched closer to the sleeping man.
It was surprising to see that the leader of such an elusive gang of thieves sleeping like the dead. A knight, if indeed he was a knight, would never leave himself so unprotected, so vulnerable. He kicked aside the sword that lay next to the pallet, and then crouched behind the prone man. In an instant, Jonathan grabbed the man’s head with one hand, dragging him close to his chest, and with the other hand he held a dagger against his throat.
The man awoke, sputtering and clawing at Jonathan’s arm, all the while searching blindly, frantically for his sword.
For a fraction of a second, Jonathan realized that the man he gripped in a headlock wasn’t Raulf.
“Don’t move,” Jonathan said in a low, lethal voice.
The man’s body went still as if the sound of Jonathan’s voice paralyzed him.
“I have done nothing wrong,” he said in a voice tense with fear.
“According to whom? The villagers? Because I don’t think they would agree with you,” Jonathan said. “You’re the one leading the raids, aren’t you?” He pressed the dagger closer to the man’s throat.
The man raised his chin higher to avoid the blade. “I swear, I’m not the leader! I’m just a guard. Please don’t kill me!” he pleaded. The fear in his voice was too real for Jonathan not to believe him. “I was only following what I was told to do.”
“By sleeping in this shelter?” Jonathan asked sarcastically.
“Aye!” the man said. “I was told to sleep here tonight,” he continued, his large body trembling as if he realized how precarious his position was. “I didn’t ask why.”
Jonathan tightened his hold on the dagger. “Then who is behind the raids?”
“‘Tis the Grey Knight!” he said, his voice becoming high pitched and frantic. “We know him only as the Grey Knight. We’re told he’s the rightful heir to Blackburn.”
Jonathan’s heart began to beat faster at the new information. Why would the Grey Knight claim Blackburn as his birthright? And how did Raulf fit into this picture? “If you value your life, you will tell me where this Grey Knight has gone,” he said.
“I don’t know!” the guard cried miserably. “He never told us.”
Jonathan let out a sigh of angry frustration. It was obvious that he wasn’t going to get any more information from guard at the moment. “Bring the boy here,” he called to Gareth over his shoulder.
Gareth was in conference with one of his men, and when he heard Jonathan’s voice, he walked over to where he was. “He’s escaped, sire,” he said, his tone grim.
Jonathan closed his eyes. Everything became glaringly clear. The boy was a decoy. The Grey Knight was once again leading him on a merry chase, and somewhere he was laughing at Jonathan’s stupidity.
“Tie him up,” he said, unable to keep the irritation from his voice. “And take him and the others back to Blackburn for questioning.”
CHAPTER 17
“They’re here!” Ava clapped her hands, and squealed. She drew Rowena to the narrow window in the chamber, and pointed beyond the battlements. “The knights have arrived!”
Rowena’s breath was nearly knocked away when she caught the view from her window. The air was as charged as a lighting storm, and it was impossible not to catch Ava’s feverish excitement. As far as she could see, the green field was lit with a blazon of dazzling color and life, almost as if it were an illuminated picture that was woven into a tapestry.
Dozens of pavilions already dotted the field, with their banners displaying a range of fierce animals of prey and fantastical creatures of old.
The grandstand that the servants worked on for days was finally completed and stood high above the green landscape. And just beyond the wooden stand, dozens of knights and their beasts mingled restlessly in their colorful livery, waiting with impatience to showcase their fighting skills.
Off to the right, near the edge of the crowd, the town merchants and peddlers erected temporary market stalls to entice the lords and ladies with their trinkets and services. A short distance away from this hustle, a handful of country folk laid claim to choice spots on the ground. Meanwhile their children staged simulated battles with each other, their boundless energy adding more spirit and enthusiasm to the already electric air.
“There are so many noble knights right here on Ravenhearth grounds, just as Lady Lorena predicted,” Ava breathed. “My dear child this is your chance to finally find your husband,” she said, clasping her hands together as if she was praying for her words to come true.
Rowena eyed the many knights parading their powerful war horses on the field. All of a sudden a scuffle occurred between two knights. They scrambled off their horses, and became engaged in a shouting match.
She twisted her lips in doubt. “If I find him,” she said. She moved away f
rom the window, not liking to be reminded about her dilemma. “Father invited knights from kingdoms near and far, with all abilities and looks. From what I see right now, I am not too certain that I can find the knight of my dreams.”
The look of happiness vanished from Ava’s face and was replaced with one of distress.
“Do not fret, Ava,” she said wryly. “You would think by the look on your face that you are the one who has to find a husband. I still have till the end of this month to find him.” She didn’t bother waiting for Ava to assist her with her nightgown and stripped it off. She handed the gown to her nursemaid. “Having this tournament here will help widen my choices — that is all I expect.”
Ava pursed her lips, taking the gown from her, folding it and then gently placing it in the chest at the foot of the bed. She took another gown out of the chest, and slipped the cool linen sleeves over Rowena’s slender arms. “You have already rejected many of the suitors that your father has chosen. What will happen if you do not find a husband in the tournament, I wonder?” she asked, missing the brief look of sorrow that crossed Rowena’s face. She turned Rowena around, and adjusted the gown before concentrating on the task of buttoning it up.
Rowena didn’t want to admit it, but her father’s threat loomed over her head. “Then my choices are finished and I shall be forced to marry the man of my father’s choosing,” she said tonelessly.
Ava stopped what she was doing, and sent Rowena a guilty look. Forcing a cheerfulness in her voice, she said, “‘Tis not all bad, child. Your father would never choose an unworthy man for you to wed. As I recall Sir Jonathan was included in the list of suitors, was he not?”
“I am not interested in marrying Sir Jonathan,” Rowena said, her tone flat. “And I know he is not interested in marrying me.” He was interested in something different altogether, but that wasn’t something that she wanted to discuss with Ava. Instead, she said, “Out of all the suitors that Father has approved of, Sir Jonathan is the only one who has not come courting. You know that.”
“Perhaps he could not find the time to come courting,” Ava suggested. “Lady Lorena mentioned that his father has just passed away.”
Rowena shook her head, but Ava continued before she could say anything else. “I rather like Sir Jonathan. I think he would make a good husband.”
“Then perhaps you should marry him,” Rowena said, her tone becoming a little too sharp. “Ever since you met him, you have sung nothing but praises for him. You would think that he is a saint and not a man.”
“Well he is a splendid knight,” Ava said defensively. “He is tall and fine-looking. His heroic feats long precede him. If he would have me, I would marry him without hesitation.” Ava compressed her lips, and mumbled under her breath. “I don’t understand why ‘tis so difficult for you to choose a husband. Your father could have chosen far worse.”
Rowena let out a long breath. “I do not know why we are discussing this yet again.” She allowed Ava to slip the mantle over her shoulders before stepping away from her nursemaid. Turning to face her, she continued, “As I have said before, when I find the right man, I will marry him. Whether I find him here at the tournament is still up for debate.”
Ava shook her head. “You do not have time for much choosing, child,” her tone sounding accusatory. “You said yourself that you have less than a month. You must marry for practical reasons. Forget about those romantic tales. The man that you are looking for is the stuff of dreams. He exists only in your head.”
Rowena lifted her chin in defiance. “Dreams or not. There must be some truth in my ideal. Otherwise why do you suppose that my mother encouraged me to find my true love?” She sent Ava a challenging look, one her hand resting on her hip. When Ava didn’t have an answer to her question, she continued. “I know that the Knights of the Round Table no longer exist,” she said gravely, “however I also know my knight is out there. I just have to find him.”
“Perhaps I am wrong then,” Ava said, heaving a sigh. She bent down, and smoothed the wrinkles from the hem of Rowena’s mantle. She stood up and offered a smile as if to appease her mistress. “Let us forget our talk, and make our way to the games.”
***
A few hours later, Rowena shifted awkwardly on her feet as the servants finished clearing the remains of the night’s supper, and dismantling the lower trestle tables. Ava was by her side, chatting with Jared, although Rowena barely heard them. All she could think about was the events of the day, when the herald had revealed the real reason for the tournament: for Rowena to choose a husband from the many knights in attendance.
Suddenly the idea of holding the tournament in her honor didn’t seem appealing. As soon as the herald finished speaking, the murmurs started, sounding as if a large swarm of excited locusts descended upon the lists and hundreds of greedy eyes turned her way, calculating her worth. Winning the joust, she knew, would net a few bags of coin for a knight, but to gain her as wife would bring far greater wealth, land and prestige. The very idea left an acrimonious taste in her mouth.
Feeling dejected, she scanned the crowd and locked eyes with the one person she wished was not there. Jonathan stared back at her with an almost sympathetic look on his face.
Rowena pasted a smile on her lips, although she tried in vain to stop her eyes from blinking back the tears. A sharp pain of humiliation struck at her heart with a violent force, and Rowena wanted nothing more than to escape from the curious eyes.
And just as Lorena predicted, the knights came forward. They appeared from the colorful masses, all clamoring for her attention, some giving her uncouth grins while others tried to get a little too close to her. One by one, they introduced themselves, and displayed their lack of wit and charm by spouting nauseating flattery.
Before the herald’s startling announcement, she had convinced herself that perhaps Ava was right, and that she might find her knight at the tournament — there were enough eligible knights to choose from. Maybe her ideal was set too high as Ava suggested. If she could just settle for any knight that was kind and generous, then her life would be that much easier. But even as she thought this, something deep within her refused to give up hope of finding her one true knight.
The servants lined the dismantled trestle tables along the wall, leaving the hall open for the performers and dancers. The guests quickly filled the freed space as if they couldn’t wait another moment for the night’s entertainment to begin.
Sir Thomas, an older knight who introduced himself earlier, stumbled with a tankard of ale in his hand. When he righted himself, he noticed Rowena and abruptly changed his direction, making his way over to where she stood with Ava.
“I need to leave,” Rowena said to Ava in a tight voice.
Ava turned from Jared, and frowned at her. “The entertainment is just beginning,” she said, her tone full of confusion. Loud clapping erupted as a juggler dressed in multi colors completed his juggling set and took a bow. “You’ve always liked watching the performers.”
On the other side of the room, the minstrels began playing a jaunty song. A number of the knights and their ladies gathered in an impromptu carol.
“I will still see their performances from over there,” she said, pointing to a vacant spot along the far side of the wall, away from the crowd of people.
Thomas made his slow progress to Rowena when he collided into a heavyset man, bouncing off the other man’s chest. He stared at a puddle of ale at his feet, a bemused look on his face. Without waiting for the old knight to regain his senses or for Ava’s response, Rowena hurried toward the direction she pointed.
After making her way through the throng of people, she managed to find the spot that she indicated. She heaved a sigh of relief. She was alone. Finally. The spot she chose was the farthest away from the high table, the only table that wasn’t dismantled, and where her father and Lorena still sat.
Not far off, Ava spoke with Jared, although Thomas now joined them. He scanned the crowd as if he was sea
rching for her. Rowena shrank back until she felt the cool solid wall at her back, glad that the light from sconces and from the fire in the middle of hall weren’t bright enough to penetrate her hiding spot.
She sighed wearily. How could she choose from the men that approached her? The tournament seemed like such a good idea — to allow all the suitable men to congregate in one place, and make it easier for her to find her true love. But the men that she met — and there were many — she felt nothing for them.
A servant released a flock of doves, the sounds of their flapping wings filling the air.
Rowena raised her eyes to the vaulted ceiling, and watched as the birds flew high, searching and then finding a place to rest in the smoke blackened rafters.
“Once again, I find you in the sidelines watching the revelry of others,” a deep voice said, piercing through her thoughts.
She felt her heart go still.
“Shouldn’t you be out there allowing all the brave knights the opportunity to woo you?” the voice continued.
The air around her suddenly felt thick and warm. She would recognize that rumbling voice anywhere, because it was a voice that echoed in her dreams.
Turning her head slowly, she looked up, and met familiar dark brown eyes. “The night is young,” she said, trying to keep her voice even and hoping that she didn’t reveal how much his presence affected her. “I am in no haste to wed.”
He studied her from the shadows. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking in the dim light. She watched his sensual mouth curve secretly as if he understood her deepest thoughts. After what seemed like a long moment, he nodded his head. “So you’re hiding from your many admirers,” he said.
She felt herself blushing. “They do not admire me for myself, I assure you,” she said. “Those knights are looking for land and wealth, and ‘tis easy to see that they are impressed by Ravenhearth and all its grandeur.” She lifted her chin as if daring him to contradict her. “My dowry is large enough to make any grown man salivate. Father has made sure that everyone knows of it.”
One True Knight (The Knights of Honor Trilogy) Page 14