A movement at the corner of the room caught her attention and she saw Lorena there. “My lady?” she said in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
Lorena got up from her stool, and approached her. “I was out riding this morning when I learned about your palfrey’s condition,” she explained. “I know you have been anticipating the foaling for months now, and I wanted to lend you my support.” She touched her arm. “You do not mind, do you?”
Rowena shook her head. “The stable master called for me earlier, however I was detained from getting here,” she said. Her face went pale when she heard another groan emerging from Beauty.
She approached the stable master with caution. “Is she all right?” Rowena whispered. Beauty stood near the railing, breathing with difficulty, her black coat slick with sweat. “I am told that a horse usually foals after nightfall…”
“It seems that she may be a special case,” he said.
Rowena winced when Beauty cried again as another painful contraction hit her, the sound reverberating throughout the entire building. She put out her hand, wanting to offer comfort and stroke Beauty’s head. But the stable master stayed her hands.
“You may witness the foaling, my lady,” the stable master said. “Everyone may witness it. However we must all stand aside.” He brought his sleeve up to his face, and wiped the sweat away. “Any outside interference will delay the foaling.”
Lorena beckoned for the stable boy to bring another stool over to the wall. She then gently steered Rowena toward the seats. “You are as pale as if you have seen the dead,” she said. She sat Rowena down on the stool and nodded to her palfrey. “All horses are different and it seems that this foal is eager to see the world.”
“It will not be long now,” the stable master said.
Rowena felt grateful that Lorena held her hand. Every time the horse cried out in new pain she squeezed Lorena’s hand. Then after what felt like an eternity, it was over. A new colt was born. He got up with effort and took valiant, unsteady steps toward his mother. And as he began to nurse, Beauty turned her face and proudly licked the top of his head.
“He’s beautiful,” Rowena whispered, getting up. She moved closer to the railing, the desire to stroke the newborn colt became overwhelming.
Lorena seemed to have read her mind because she pulled her back. “The stable master says ‘tis best not to interfere,” she said in a soft voice.
The stable master wiped the sweat from his eyebrow, and grinned at Rowena. “Aye, they need time to get to know each other,” he said. “Go and enjoy the day’s tournament, and when you return, Beauty will have recovered a bit. You still won’t be able to get near her or her babe, but you can at least visit them.”
***
It was just before supper when Rowena had the opportunity to go back to the stables. She begged and pleaded with Ava once more to allow her to visit Beauty. “I shall not be long,” she promised, but her nursemaid only grunted. Ava hated the smell of the stables and avoided it as much as possible.
Rowena cleared the courtyard and was almost at the stable doors when she saw Raulf coming out of one of the wooden shelters, his destrier in tow.
She ducked behind a stack of hay that was left just outside the building.
Perhaps it was how he carried his body, which was taut, or the way he curled his lips as if he had eaten a piece of rotten meat. Whatever it was, she didn’t call out to him. Instead, she let him pass and when he was out of sight, she slipped into the dimly lit structure.
The main stable was strangely empty, and this suited Rowena well. She moved toward Beauty’s stall, expecting to witness the special bonding between mother and colt, but the scene before her caused her heart to stop. And then she burst into a scream.
She rushed closer to the stall, wanting to help her beloved palfrey but uncertain how she would do it.
Gone was the glowing mother and in her place was a horse that could no longer support herself. She seemed confused, and bumped hard up against the wall again and again as if she didn’t know it was there. Her breathing was labored and shallow, and her entire body was sweating and shaking.
The colt stood in the corner, watching his mother fearfully.
Beauty fell once more against the wall and then collapsed into a heap on the ground, staying there as if she neither had the will nor the strength to get up. She was panting hard, and Rowena discovered with growing horror that her beloved palfrey’s gums and tongue were as white as snow.
Rowena gripped the wooden railing that separated her and her horse, wanting desperately to go to Beauty. But even she knew that in Beauty’s unstable condition, her behavior was unpredictable. That was something that the stable master drilled into her head long ago, before she was even allowed to ride a horse.
Behind her, she could hear the sound of running footsteps.
As Rowena turned her head at the noise, she saw Jonathan. He stopped at her side, breathing deeply as he tried to take in the scene before him. “What happened?” he said. “I heard you scream.”
At the same moment the stable master rushed into the stall and then stood still when he saw the horse.
Not trusting her voice to speak, she gestured toward Beauty. Her palfrey lay convulsing and foaming at the mouth just as her eyes started to roll into the back of her head. And then all movements stopped.
Rowena’s grip on the rail tightened and she let out a cry of dismay.
The stable master shook his head, a baffled look fixed on his face. And then as if he remembered his duty, he rushed into the pen and examined Beauty, checking for any life signs.
The stable master got up and was about to walk past her when she stopped him. “Is Beauty…?”
The small man shook his head, his face grave. “I’m sorry, my lady.” he said, answering the question that she was afraid to ask. “There is nothing we can do for her now.” He then made his way toward the frightened colt.
A strangled cry emerged from deep within Rowena’s throat. Then a ball of despair rolled over her as hot tears streamed down her face. Beauty was the only friend she had. And now she was gone!
“I do not understand what happened,” she said, the bewilderment and pain echoing in her voice. “When I left her this morning, with her newborn colt, she was fine, she was healthy.”
Jonathan reached over and put a strong, comforting arm around her shoulder, drawing her close.
She closed her eyes as if the terrible scene in front of her was too great for her to bear. A deep, unsteady breath erupted from her depths, and she allowed her head to rest on Jonathan’s chest.
The startled cry of the colt forced her eyes open again. The young horse was backing into a corner as the stable master and his assistant advanced toward him.
They watched as the stable hands captured the colt and led him out of the stall. “What caused the death?” Jonathan asked the stable master.
“I don’t know, sire,” the older man said, his face lined with confusion. “For some reason she had gone mad. ‘Tis not usual for mares to lose their minds after giving birth.”
Rowena suddenly remembered Raulf coming out of the stable before she stumbled upon Beauty. He was the only person around. “Do you think someone caused her harm?” she asked, afraid to hear the answer.
As if in a daze, she withdrew from Jonathan’s warm embrace, crouched beside her beloved palfrey, and gently stroked her sleek, damp coat.
“There is no other explanation,” the stable master said. He shook his head again. “If I didn’t know better I would think she was poisoned.”
“Poisoned?” Rowena gasped.
The stable master nodded. “I don’t know who would do such a thing to an innocent animal. ‘Tis beyond cruel.” The colt began pulling away from the stable boy. “We best take this young colt to another nursing mare before he starves to death,” he said. He beckoned for another hand to come forward. “Clean up this mess,” he ordered.
Rowena looked down at the palfrey. “I kn
ow who did this and he will pay for what he did to you,” she whispered. “I promise.”
CHAPTER 19
Rowena slept very little during the night, so overcome with emotion. She replayed in her mind the suffering that she witnessed in her poor palfrey. Jonathan had asked at breakfast if she was all right, but all she could do was shake her head in misery.
She racked her brain, trying to figure out a way to bring Beauty’s killer to justice. But sadly, she couldn’t come up with any plan. So until she could figure out how to avenge Beauty, there wasn’t much she could do. The only good that came from all this was that Beauty’s young colt was healthy and thriving, even though he no longer had a mother.
Lorena offered her a sympathetic smile when she found her seat in the grandstand. By now everyone knew what had happened in the stables.
Rowena responded with a weak smile before sitting down. She forced herself to think of things other than the horrors that she had witnessed. Luckily the dizzying array of activity on the green field proved to be a good distraction.
Peasants, beggars, wealthy merchants, and noblemen and women in their bright colors and patterns dotted the grounds just outside the castle walls. Somewhere someone was playing a fiddle, its cheery sounds filling the air with life, mingling joyfully with the shouts and laughter of eager spectators. This was what she needed, she decided as she breathed in the heady scent of sweet cakes.
The busy sweet cake merchant sold his wares while keeping a watchful eye on a group of young children gathered around his stall. The children meanwhile were oblivious to his suspicious glare, smacking their lips in envy as one customer after another left the stand with cakes covered in dripping syrup.
Moments later a trumpet sounded, causing all heads to swivel in that direction. The sounds of pounding hooves rumbled across the earth. The children who congregated at the sweet stall rushed toward the action, fighting their way to the front to get a glimpse of the procession of knights who suddenly emerged from behind the grandstand.
“They look marvelous,” Ava said to Rowena, her voice filled with awe as she scanned the dozens of knights who were to compete in the tournament.
And they did. It was impossible not to be impressed by the contestants. The knights, large and imposing, paraded with their chests thrust out, their shields poised in front of them in proud display of their bright and vibrant coat-of-arms.
“I see Sir Philip!” Ava exclaimed. “And there is Sir Jonathan!”
Out of their own accord, Rowena’s eyes looked in the direction that Ava pointed. At first she saw her father. Then a few paces away from him sat Jonathan astride his powerful destrier. At the sight of the dark haired knight, she felt her heart beat a little faster, a little louder. What was that all about? Jonathan stared straight ahead, appearing unconcerned with the attention that he garnered. But then, as if he sensed her eyes on him, he turned his head to where she sat. Their gazes met.
There was something reflected in his eyes which she couldn’t quite read, but it was gone the moment the herald began speaking.
Everyone’s attention settled on the man decked in Ravenhearth’s black and silver. The horse he sat on seemed to dwarf him, but even though he was small, his booming voice reached all corners of the field as he ceremoniously declared the matches for the day. When he called out Jonathan’s contest against an anonymous challenger, a puzzled look crossed over Jonathan’s face. He scanned the knights in his midst as if to search for his opponent. Then the trumpet blasted again. The knights marched past the grandstand and then dispersed into the crowd, leaving the first set of knights to joust one another.
***
For some reason Rowena lost interest in the jousting match, and she found herself watching the crowd in hopes of catching a glimpse of the dark haired knight. A couple of times she thought she saw him and a flush of heat rushed through her body, but when the knight turned, she discovered it was someone else. The disappointment she felt afterward was almost overwhelming. Where did Jonathan go?
The entire field echoed with loud, enthusiastic cheers, and the winning knight bowed his head to the crowd.
“That was a terrific win,” Ava said with enthusiasm. She put both hands on her flushed cheeks. “I thought for sure that the younger knight would win the joust. But it seems that age and skill can sometimes triumph over youth and inexperience. I wonder how Sir Philip will fare in his match. I think he is up next.”
“Where is Sir Philip by the way? I cannot find him anywhere,” Lorena said, concern and worry creeping into her voice. “Do you see him, Lady Rowena?” She craned her neck trying to locate Rowena’s father among the crush of color beneath the grandstand.
“He is over by Sir Jared, my lady,” Rowena said nodding her head toward the small group of knights gathered at the edge of the crowd. Her father was preparing to mount his powerful steed. “I believe he is readying for his competition.”
Lorena looked over at the direction where she indicated. “I see him now,” she said with a sigh of relief. “I told him that he didn’t have to joust — that he had nothing to prove to anyone.” She twisted her hands on her lap. “But as you can see, he would not listen to me. I do not understand why he needs to be in the tournament and cannot be content with just being a spectator.”
“Do not worry, my lady,” Ava said. “Sir Philip has much skill and wisdom and he will have no problems outmatching his opponent. You will see. This match will be finished sooner than you realize.”
The winning knight walked off the list, while three servants ran into the field, picking up the scattered debris and clearing the ground for the next set.
“I dearly hope so,” Lorena said. “I do not mind so much when I watch others fight, because I do understand that tournaments allow our knights to hone their fighting skills in times of peace.” She paused, making a sympathetic sound as the bleeding knight who lost the previous joust limped past the grandstand with his squire. She shook her head. “I find that I do not care much to see my husband hurt.”
Rowena’s father and his contender waited at opposite ends of the list, their horses pawing the ground with impatience as the servants picked up the last of the wooden splinters.
“Well, I should hope that Sir Philip does not get hurt,” Ava said, reaching over and patting Lorena on the hand. “However he is a trained knight with many years of fighting experience under him.”
“That is exactly my point!” Lorena said. She clasped her hands as if to still their nervous energy, and looked at the large knight who had his sights bent on her husband. “Sir Philip may be trained and he may have fighting skills, yet the truth is that he is no longer a young knight in his prime. While the other knight…”
Her voice was cut off when a scream erupted from her throat. And the thing she feared most unfolded in front of her eyes.
Everyone on the grandstand stood up.
Rowena’s eyes widened with horror. The younger, much stronger knight had slammed his lance into the middle of her father’s shield, the force of the blunted lance pushing him off his saddle. Somehow his foot became tangled in the stirrup just as his horse reared at the tremendous blow. Her father was tossed into the air, and thrown onto the ground as if he was little more than a corn husk doll.
Rowena made a move to go to her father but Ava grasped her arm, stopping her. “There are too many people on the field,” she said.
Lorena on the other hand didn’t seem concerned about the swelling crowd that crushed around her husband. In a flurry of motion, she raced down from the grandstand and dashed across the field. Pushing aside the servants who came to their master’s aid, she bent over her husband’s prone body.
Rowena extracted her arm from Ava, and moved to the wooden railing in front of her. She winced when her father’s roar of pain touched her ears. With the support from Lorena and his servants, he managed to sit up. From this distance, it was impossible to hear what Lorena said to her father, but whatever she said seemed to mollify him. With gru
dging effort, he allowed his wife and two squires to lead him away from the list.
The spectators cheered him on, but her father’s face was too outraged and twisted with annoyance to notice any encouragement that the crowd offered. He made slow and painful progress to the grandstand.
The herald waited for her father and Lorena to return to their seats, and for the new debris to be cleared from the ground. Then he announced the next match: “The Iron Hawk verses the Challenger!”
Excitement rippled through the crowd, and the awful scene from a moment ago was forgotten.
A woman murmured Jonathan’s name and sighed loudly behind Rowena. She couldn’t blame the woman because her own heart started to quicken its pace. Jonathan. His commanding height and cool confidence was hard to miss, even from afar. His dark head gleamed in the sun, and as he sat on his saddle, his powerful arm holding the heavy wooden lance looked as if it weighed little more than a twig. His body was relaxed yet alert, just like the fierce hawk that was imprinted on his surcoat. He possessed a dangerous strength that was just waiting for the right moment to be unleashed onto his quarry. A couple of people beneath the grandstand began yelling “Hawk! Hawk!” and like a fire started on dry brush, it began to spread with more and more people chanting his name.
Rowena’s father sat, his eyes transfixed on the two knights, and he seemed as if he had forgotten his own pain.
“Who is this Challenger?” Ava yelled, trying to be heard above the crowd. She squinted at Jonathan’s opponent as if she was trying to see through his nondescript grey armor. “He wears no identifying standard on his person.”
“Perhaps that is his aim,” said Lorena. “‘Tis not unheard of for a knight to remain anonymous. He may be a poor knight or he may be someone of status.”
Ava shook her head. “Status or not, I would think that this man is either a fool, or one who is very skilled otherwise why would he be challenging the legendary Hawk?”
One True Knight (The Knights of Honor Trilogy) Page 16