Red-faced and tight-lipped, the eldest du Bonne brother proceeded to roughly escort his rebellious sister to the lodges where Genisa and Edward awaited the commencement of the games. With a halting explanation of her behavior to his father, Stephan quit the lodges in search of his charger. With the joust set to begin, he had more pressing details to worry over than his sister.
He had made her well aware, however, that he would deal with her at a later time. Edward had never dealt the punishment for his children; Stephan always had. As long as the eldest son handled the unruly brood, Edward was assured that all would be dealt with in a fair and diligent manner. In truth, Stephan was like a crutch; the more used, the more needed. Not strangely, Edward would never dream of interfering in his heir’s method of discipline or justice; whatever his son decided was good enough for him and he supported the man.
Therefore, Edward pretended to disregard his daughter’s rebellion as she took a seat in the lists and Summer ignored him back. Genisa eyed her sister-in-law with a great deal of bewilderment. She couldn’t understand why the woman should suddenly transform from a respectful sister into a defiant vixen. The sweet young lady who had sat with her atop the battlements yesterday morn had changed overnight.
“Summer?” she whispered hesitantly, tugging on the woman’s sleeve when she failed to obtain a response. “Summer? Is something the matter?”
Summer turned to her sister-in-law with an expression Genisa had never seen before. It was so… cold. “Nothing is the matter, Genisa. Nothing in the least.”
Genisa’s pure blue eyes were somewhat sad. “Then why is Stephan so angry with you? Summer, why won’t you tell me what’s happened? Does it have something to do with Bose de Moray?”
Summer’s cool stance wavered slightly. “Your husband is angry b-because I have made my own decision regarding Sir Bose and he does not agree.”
“Decision about what?”
Summer’s attention moved to the field as a knight clad in magnificent red and black thundered by the lodges, a massive carved eagle protruding from his newer helm. The crowd roared its approval and she watched the knight as he turned at the end of the field and lost himself amongst the other contestants.
“Sir B-Bose asked that I supply him with a favor and I did,” she finally replied. “Stephan is angry.”
Genisa’s brow furrowed. “Why, that is foolish. My husband seems to forget that we met the very same way, at a tournament in Richmond. He gallantly asked for my favor and I supplied him with a piece of my gown.”
Summer looked to her sister-in-law again, her expression somewhat less harsh as she recalled the event. “I remember. He could not stop speaking of you.”
Genisa smiled, noting that Summer sounded a good deal more like her usual self with that short, gentle reply. “And I could not stop speaking of him, either.” Another knight roared past the lodges, clad in green and yellow and both women turned to watch the man ride by. “Good Heavens, I’d wager to say that a good portion of the married knights have met their wives at tournaments. I find Stephan’s attitude so ridiculous that I believe I’ll tell him so.”
Her stiff manner fading with Genisa’s support, Summer was once again relaxed and smiling as opposed to rigid and resentful. After all, her sister-in-law had nothing to do with Stephan’s unbending attitude. She softened further.
“Nise,” Summer looked to the lovely woman. “I do apologize for the terrible things I said yesterday. You do not b-bray like an injured goat and you do not talk too much.”
Genisa’s smile broadened and she reached out, clutching Summer’s hand tightly. “You already apologized to me, darling. This morning when you allowed me to help you dress for the day. There is no need for spoken sorrows between family.”
“Aye, there is. I truly d-did not mean what I said. I was… confused, I suppose, and upset.”
“I know,” Genisa squeezed her hand. “I realize it must be difficult for you, having your first taste of the real world. You’ve been isolated so long for your own protection that it is only natural that your first experience of excitement left you feeling deprived of a normal life.”
Summer cocked an eyebrow. “How insightful, Genisa. Especially f-for you.”
Genisa wasn’t insulted in the least; Summer knew her well enough to know that her view of the world moved scarcely beyond the surface of her frivolous thoughts. “They are not my words, but Stephan’s. When you ran off last night, he was very worried and spent a good deal of the time trying to rationalize your state of mind.”
Summer lowered her head shamefully, shrugging after a time. “I do apologize for f-frightening everyone, but at the time, it was as if… as if I had to break free.” Suddenly, the crowd emitted a mighty shout and Summer’s head came up to locate the source of their excitement. It took her no time to witness Bose’s arrival at the edge of the field, mounted astride his mighty charcoal steed as several men hovered about to adjust his armor.
Instantly, her heart thumped against her ribs and she could feel the familiar heat rush to her cheeks. “B-But I do not regret my actions. Had I not run from you, I would have never met Bose.”
Genisa noted her sister-in-law’s expression as she beheld her favored knight; literally, she could read the wonder and appreciation in the woman’s eyes and it was not hard to recall the same excitement at the time she had first met Stephan. “You have only just come from him, have you not?” she asked. “What did you speak of?”
Summer continued to watch the distant knight, pondering Genisa’s question in spite of her distraction. “Nothing terribly exciting,” she said, skirting the issue. “Stephan demanded I reclaim my favor, as I said, b-but I refused to do so. Instead, Bose and I had a wonderful conversation until a situation arose that he was required to deal with.”
“Situation? What was that?”
Summer shook her head faintly, her eyes riveted to the black and white warrior. “T-truthfully, I do not know. He excused himself so quickly that I never had a chance to ask.”
Genisa mulled over the answer, watching the countenance of her sister-in-law’s demeanor. “Was he wonderful, Summer?” her voice was soft, encouraging. “Was he completely, utterly wonderful?”
Summer nodded, her gaze never leaving the massive knight. “More than wonderful, Nise. He is everything a knight should be. Everything a man should be.”
A grin graced Genisa’s lips. “When the two of you spoke, was it kindly? Did he notice your stammer?”
Eyes still fixed upon Bose, Summer nonetheless cocked a droll eyebrow in response. “A deaf man would be able to detect my stammer. He told me, in fact, that his mother suffered the same condition.” The intensity of the crowd rose again as Bose gathered his reins and paced about at the edge of the field, working off the nerves of his excitable charger. Summer’s stare never left him, a faint smile upon her lips. “Look at him, Genisa. Look at him and tell me that you do not b-believe him to be wonderful, too.”
Genisa, her own smile broadening, tore her gaze away from Summer’s awe-struck expression long enough to refocus on the black and white knight. “He is indeed wonderful, Summer.”
Summer barely heard the softly-uttered words, her thumping heart creating a deafening rush in her ears as she stared at her champion. He handled the enormous destrier with a good deal of skill and grace, Chivalry the French used to call it. Before the term meant knightly goodness and strength, it meant the precise skill of handling a warhorse. With thigh pressure, soft noises and delicate rein movements, the ability to control one’s horse masterfully was a truly impressive skill.
And Bose most definitely possessed the skill. Summer continued to watch him, entranced, when suddenly he whirled his horse in a wild circle and abruptly dug his heels into the animal’s sides. Throwing up great clods of earth, the vicious charger was suddenly bearing in her direction and Summer gasped with surprise and glee, knowing he was coming to impart a few words to her before his bout began.
Summer rose to her feet
in anticipation, her hands clasped to her breast and her eyes wide. But just as she managed to leave her seat, a familiar chestnut charger bearing red and white standards suddenly veered into Bose’s path, the horses nearly colliding in what would have surely been a devastating accident.
Bose was nearly unseated but managed to regain his balance quite nicely, raising his visor to his interceptor. Banking his fury with almost being pitched from his warhorse, he braced himself for the discouragement he knew was sure to come.
Stephan, however, was not so adept at hiding his anger. Visor secured, Bose could easily imagine the expression behind the menacing voice. “I told you to stay away from her, de Moray,” Stephan growled. “I meant it.”
Bose continued to struggle with his nervous charger. “But she does not share your opinion. And I continue to carry her favor.”
“I know you do. However you managed to convince her that your reputation and intentions are completely innocent, know that I am not as gullible as she is. I’ll not have an alleged murderer pursuing my sister and you would do well to heed my warning.”
A flicker of emotion crossed Bose’s face, as quickly vanished. “I am well aware of the rumors spread about my dark past, that I murdered my wife to gain her inheritance. But I swear upon God’s Holy Order that the rumors regarding such nonsense are completely false.”
Beneath the visor, Stephan continued to glare at him. However, it was difficult not to sense his candor; Bose’s tone was steady, his manner calm. There was nothing within the bottomless black depths that suggested anything other than the undeniable truth.
Stephan was not an unreasonable man. But four years of gossip had imbedded itself within his thoughts more deeply than he cared to admit. In his defense, however, within that time Bose had done nothing to reject the wild myths, feeding them instead with his stand-offish manner and self-isolation.
Whereas the majority of circuit knights were friendly and cordial to varying degrees, Bose severed himself from all social contact. No one truly knew the man, making it extremely easy to consider the hearsay. Unlatching his three piece helm, Stephan slowly raised the gleaming visor.
“Why tell me now?” his voice was oddly strained. “The information has been prevalent for four years, de Moray. Why vindicate yourself now?”
Bose’s gaze trailed to the luscious woman standing atop the lodges, her long hair gently wafting in the breeze. “I never cared what others thought until now,” tearing his eyes away, he refocused on the wary brother. “Believe me, Stephan. I never killed my wife. ’Twas a vicious rumor invented by my mother-in-law to damage my chances on the tournament circuit. My wife died in childbirth and her mother has made it her goal in life to wreak misery upon me.”
Stephan regarded him for a moment. “But I have also heard tale that you resigned your position as Captain of the King’s Guard in disgrace because of your wife’s death. What do you say to that?”
“I resigned my post because of the memories associated with it. I had met my wife while serving as Captain of the Guard. Our Henry was quite disappointed in my departure, in fact. He was terribly fond of me.”
Stephan continued to meet his gaze, fighting against the mounting indecision gripping his heart. As an honorable knight, he should believe the man without question and allow him to pursue the woman of his choice. But as the protective brother, he could not give himself permission to accept the knight’s explanation. At least, not yet.
The peal of the trumpet sounded over the field, announcing the approach of the first bout. Bose’s gaze was torn between Stephan’s dubious expression and Summer’s distant form.
“Just a word, Stephan, before the joust,” his voice was nearly a whisper. “One word and I shall vacate immediately. Please.”
Stephan sighed faintly, irritated with his confusion and wondering why he could not seem to overcome the gossip he had professed to disregard.
“Nay,” his eventual reply was muted. “Not now. Mayhap… later. I must think on it.”
Bose emitted a heavy sigh, disappointed. “Very well,” his voice was calm and resigned. “I shall obey your wishes this time. However, I….”
His word were abruptly cut short and Stephan watched, startled, as the knight’s normally expressionless face took on a countenance of such ferocity that Stephan immediately turned to see what had disturbed him so.
Breck Kerry was poised before the lodges, speaking with Summer.
*
Summer had never seen him coming. One moment, she was gazing at Stephan and Bose in deep conversation and in the next, a knight bearing green and yellow standards was immediately before her. His armor was beautiful, his banners unsullied with dirt or flaw, and atop his elaborate helm was the image of a great horned beast.
Startled by the unexpected appearance, she took a step away and openly studied the man. For a moment, no one spoke, and then the knight reached up to raise his visor. A pale, pock-marked face and small blue eyes gazed back at her intensely. When he smiled, it was only to reveal large, slightly green teeth.
“My lady,” he said, his voice medium-pitched. “My name is Sir Breck Kerry. I am competing in the first round and was hoping if you have not yet given your favor to anyone, that you would graciously consider my solicitation.”
Summer did not like any aspect of the pale-faced, foul-breathed knight. Not his manners, nor his looks, nor the strangely annoying quality to his speaking tone. When she cleared her throat in a firm attempt to discourage him, Edward suddenly appeared at his daughter’s side, his round face taut.
“The lady is not dispensing favors, Sir Breck,” he said with more fortitude that Summer had heard in a long while. “Choose another.”
Breck, however, was undeterred and dipped his head gallantly in the baron’s direction. “My lord,” he greeted. “My brother informed me this morn that the delightful creature seated next to you at yesterday’s melee was your only daughter. Since I was unaware the du Bonne brothers had a sister, I was merely attempting to introduce myself.”
Edward eyed the aggressive knight; he knew him to be the man who had broken Stephan’s wrist last year and in spite of his callous attitude in matters pertaining to his children, found himself leaping to Summer’s defense….
“They do indeed,” he replied coldly. “If you will excuse us, sir knight, the joust is about to commence.”
Breck continued to eye Summer, then Genisa when the woman took a position beside her sister-in-law and clutched her protectively. His small blue eyes raked Genisa suggestively before returning to Summer.
“I understand your father’s concern, Lady Summer. Even so, my intentions are purely honorable,” he said with mock sincerity. “Have you indeed given your favor this day?”
Before anyone could stop her, Summer stepped forward in a fit of disgust. “I have given my f-favor to Sir Bose,” she said. “Now, please go. I have no desire to speak with you.”
The smile on Breck’s lips faded with unnatural swiftness. He continued to stare at her, digesting the flaw she had been unashamed to display with her insolent tongue. Instantly, his excitement and lust banked as he pondered her defect; God’s Blood, what a tragedy her condition exhibited for, certainly, she was terribly beautiful. But with her flagrant stammer, she was as worthless as a three-legged cow and his disappointment settled.
His discouragement, however, was of little matter; the fact remained that the lady and Bose were attracted to one another, so much so that she had given him her favor. And the fact that Breck had sworn to avenge his failing in the melee against Bose merely fed his determination to sway her opinion against the mighty knight.
“I… I apologize if I have offended you, my lady,” he said as genuinely as he was able. “I had no idea that you and Sir Bose were… well, that is to say, I am distressed to learn that you have allowed a knight of such questionable character to bear your favor.”
Summer’s gaze was unnaturally piercing. “Sir Bose is a perfect knight and I am proud to have him
b-bear my favor.”
Breck gave her his best anxious expression. “But he is a… God’s Blood, dare I say it? His reputation toward the fairer sex is certainly not the most solid.”
Summer cocked an eyebrow, angered and shaken with the knight’s implication. Good Lord, did everyone know of the lies regarding Bose’s past? Cheeks flushed, she tried her best not to shout her defensive reply.
“And the rumors you refer to are nothing but a pack of malicious f-fabrications,” she said, her voice acquiring an odd quiver. “Sir Bose never killed his wife. She died in childbirth.”
Breck’s eyes widened with mock concern. “And he told you this version of the truth, my lady?”
“He did. And you will believe him w-without question.”
Breck blinked innocently, as if digesting her forceful statement. Clearing his throat delicately, in a fashion suggesting he was shocked by the entire conversation, he shook his head feebly.
“My lady, did it not occur to you that he would parlay any convenient tale so that you would disbelieve the reality of his darker reputation? Surely you realize that a smitten man will do or say anything to gain your trust,” his gaze moved to Edward, round and short and perspiring under the bright morning sun. “My lord, you must protect your daughter from de Moray’s evil. I fear that….”
Breck’s words were abruptly cut short by the powerful thunder of hooves, startling his warhorse and causing the animal to dance about nervously. Summer was vaguely aware of a red and white banner before her as the brilliant sunlight reflected off portions of plate armor, nearly blinding her.
Amidst the red and white and bolts of silver, however, she caught a glimpse of black and white. The very next she realized, Breck Kerry lay on the ground and Bose was already dismounted, stalking the downed knight.
England's Greatest Knights: A Medieval Romance Collection Page 40