Knight Dreams

by C. C. Wiley

  Terrwyn looked up at him, her eyes alight with impatience. She placed the chisel on the lock. The blunt end created a target for him to hit. She took a deep breath and offered him an encouraging smile.

  James put the hammer down. It was a relief to have its weight out of his hand. He squatted next to Terrwyn and wiped the sweat off his upper lip.

  “I will be fine,” she said, as she grasped his wrist.

  “You trust me to do this? What if it doesn’t work?”

  “Then we think of something else.” Her thumb ran over his pulse, soothing him with her touch. “We discussed this. The manacle comes off me first. If the din we make brings unwanted company, then we run. I would slow us down if I had to run with the weight of the chain. You are a strong brawny man and can handle it by yourself.

  “What if my aim is wrong and I maim you?”

  “Then you’d have to carry me on your big broad back.” She cupped his hand in hers. “Now cease your fretting. Time is passing. We need to return the smithy’s tools before he knows they’re gone.”

  “You remain stubborn on that notion?”

  Terrwyn frowned. “I am. I will borrow but I will not steal. ’Twould be like taking the bread out of his mouth.”

  James brushed a kiss over her forehead and then her mouth. He rose. She was right. Precious time was slipping past them.

  After handing a strip of blanket to Terrwyn to wrap around the chisel, he picked up the hammer. He ordered her to hold still, took a breath and made the first swing.

  The sound of metal striking metal echoed through the glen. The air shivered with the impact.

  They did not move. Their eyes locked. Moonlight glistened on the tears on Terrwyn’s cheek. She drew the blanket away from the chisel to examine the lock. The iron held.

  “’Tis as you said. We will find another way.”

  Swearing under his breath, James threw the hammer down. He turned and began to gather what he could reach. The bundle slipped from his fingers. The nails and iron fishhooks flew in the air and rained out over the leaves.

  He knelt down. “Stay.” He pulled her foot into his lap.

  Holding up the nails, he began trying each one, prying, twisting and turning in the lock. After several tries, he used one that entered the lock with ease.

  Terrwyn cut through the silence between them when he withdrew the iron from the lock. “What are you doing?”

  “Patience.”

  “Perhaps the soldiers have left my village. We could enlist the smithy’s help.”

  James held out a nail. “Its shape is similar to some of the keys I’ve seen on a set of jailer’s rings. I need to make a few adjustments. Then it should do the trick.”

  He rubbed the sharp end until it was squared off. The sparks from metal dragging against stone twinkled in the dark. It took several attempts until, satisfied with his work, he inserted the key.

  The lock snicked open. He pried apart the manacle and it fell from Terrwyn’s ankle.

  “’Tis a brilliant man who sits before me,” she whispered in awe.

  Without saying another word, she launched her body into his and celebrated her freedom by placing kisses on his forehead, his cheeks, his ears, his eyebrows and finally his lips.

  He claimed her waist with his hands, pulled her close and drank in her joy.

  Terrwyn took the key from his hand and prayed it worked for the manacle around his ankle. She winced when she felt the heat coming from the skin around the wound. The blanket strips placed earlier had helped, but now there was swelling. Each step must have been taken in agony. Her heart twisted, feeling the pain he kept in silence.

  “A kiss for luck?” he jested.

  “Aye. One now.” She tenderly placed a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Another after you are free.”

  The lock was slow to release. Terrwyn argued with it, twisting and jiggling the key until the manacle finally gave way.

  A deep sigh slid out from James as he tipped backward. He carried Terrwyn with him, cushioning her head on his chest. They lay where they fell, watching the stars in the sky, listening to each other’s heartbeats.

  Sometime during the night, they fell into an exhausted sleep. Terrwyn awoke to find her head cradled in James’s arms. Their shared warmth kept the desire to linger alive. She knew she could not. Nor could she ignore the dream that shook her awake.

  Now, finally free from the chains, she could move without him knowing. She felt a bit wobbly without James by her side. She had come to depend on him too much. It was best that she regain her balance and manage on her own. She would need to have her feet planted firmly underneath her when they parted ways. Although their parting would mean she had found Drem, the thought of leaving James did not appeal to her at all.

  Her night visions had returned. She must make haste if she intended to change the fates this time. She gathered her bow and quiver and headed toward the inn.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The hammer and chisel gripped to her chest, Terrwyn lifted the latch on the shed door. She slipped inside. The light in the lantern had long since blown out.

  She grabbed a bucket of grain and fed it to the horses kept in the stalls. They paid little attention to her movements while they filled their empty stomachs.

  Aware that her time was limited, she hurried to put the tools back where they’d found them. She meant what she had told James. She was no thief. The innkeeper and his family needed those smithing tools to keep themselves in business. An inn incapable of making repairs would lose a great deal of profit. Coin was difficult to come by. She would not be the cause of their empty bellies.

  However, an extra pair of boots would not make a difference to anyone’s belly. Those skilled in repairing horse tack often carried that skill over to footwear. She began her search in the stack of leather goods piled in one corner. Halters and bridles hung on a rack awaiting repair.

  A rooster crowed. Pieces of the night vision that had shaken her awake returned. They needed to be free of this place and flee to England. The heaviness on her chest made it hard to breathe easily.

  The rooster crowed again. Twice now. Her heart began to beat faster. She needed to leave before its next call.

  From the small window, the first shards of light cut into the darkest hours before dawn. She must return to the glen before James awoke and noticed she and the tools were gone. He would be unhappy but since the task would have been already completed, his forgiveness should be easily earned.

  The promise he’d forced out of her to not stray from their campsite began to nag at her conscience. It was not a verbal agreement. Not a true vow. The words did not cross her lips. She had merely nodded her consent. Besides, once he understood they could ride out immediately, he would forgive her.

  She pushed back the dark portions of the dream that woke her up in the first place. She closed her eyes. This time she would use the good in her night vision. Slowing her breathing, she began to see the workroom. There was a small room off the main stalls. A tack room. Benches lined the wall. Under the bench was a pair of leather boots.

  Keeping her eyes closed, she retraced her steps in the dream. When she came to the small room, she opened her eyes. It was exactly as she saw it. Confident she would find what she sought, she knelt down. The boots were hidden behind a strip of leather. She scooped the boots up and tucked them inside her jerkin. A leather braided rope hung from a hook on the wall. She belted it around her waist, tying it off in a knot. The boots tucked under her arms made her waistline full as a fat hen.

  Sounds of awakening life began to stir outside. Aware of the warning in her dream, she hurried to leave. She stopped long enough to listen for anyone nearby. Her hand on the door latch, she heard the third crow.

  Cursing under her breath, she decided there was no turning back. She could not stay inside the shed all day. The good people of the Inn at the Crossroads would eventually notice her presence.

  The lever moved in her hand as the innkeeper yanke
d the stable door open.

  Terrwyn stumbled out. The back of her jerkin hung in his great paw.

  “What do I have here?” The innkeeper lifted her off the ground and shook her.

  A weak yelp escaped. “I can explain,” she choked out.

  He pulled her close. His face twisted in a snarl as he kept one eye shut and peered at her with the other one. His sour breath stank from the evening’s ale. “What are doing in yon stables, boy?”

  Struggling to get her feet back under her, she worked to wiggle from his hold. “I didn’t think it would hurt much for me to take a wee rest. I’m traveling by my lonesome. There were soldiers about. Have you seen them too? I didn’t want them to conscript me into their damned army. I intended to leave real soon, no worse for the wear.” Terrwyn produced the best sorrowful expression she ever created.

  “Who do you think you’re fooling?” He shook her again. “You won’t be peddling your tripe to me. No soldiers have come through this way.”

  Terrwyn felt the knot on the leather belt loosen. The boots began to shift and slide out from under her jerkin. Plop. First one.

  “Here now. What’s this?” Wide-eyed, he lifted the edge of her leather jerkin and yanked down the other boot. He held it under her nose. “You’re a bloody thief.”

  Terrwyn thought about denying it, but what could she say? The fact that she had brought back his smithy tools did not seem to hold much weight.

  He looked back at the stables. Keeping her in his grasp he dragged her toward the door. The horses munched on the grain she had poured out on the floor.

  “I’m betting you are a horse thief, too! ’Tis why you were in there.”

  “Nay, I was looking for a wee drink of water. I didn’t think you would mind.”

  “You didn’t think I would mind?” He grabbed a rope from the stall and knotted it around her wrists. “Sit.” He pointed to a pile of straw. “Move and I’ll end your misery now.”

  He bellowed for Tilda to come at once. When his wife did not make an appearance, he marched off, yelling for her to make haste and bring his blade.

  Terrwyn had ideas other than waiting for him to run her through. She slowly inched her way up the wall.

  She jumped when an angry voice said, “Woman, are you crazed? Move your arse up and out of there before he comes back with reinforcements.”

  “James.” Her heart tapped out a relieved beat until she realized he might wish to do her harm himself.

  Cursing under his breath as he slid around the corner, he untied the rope and grabbed her hand. “Let’s go. I think he is still looking for his Tilda.”

  “Wait!” Terrwyn skidded to a stop. “Boots. I found boots for your feet.”

  “You returned the tools but thought nothing of stealing a pair of boots?”

  Ignoring the tirade she feared was on its way, she knelt on the floor, sweeping the straw out of her way. “He tossed them over here.”

  “Come,” he said, his tone softened from before. “We’ll find another pair. They aren’t worth your life.”

  Terrwyn rose, the boots held tightly in her arms. “They are castoffs. You cannot steal castoffs. Besides,” she sniffed, “they are for you.”

  Resigned to her stubbornness, James nodded and held out his hand. “My thanks, sweeting. I will try them on when we are safe. Right now you need to run.” He locked his arms with hers, determined to drag her if necessary.

  The innkeeper blocked their path. His wife, Tilda, stood behind him. A handprint marred one of her round cheeks. She covered her mouth with trembling fingers.

  “You travel by your lonesome, do you, young fellow? Running off like a pack of pulling puppies still hanging onto their momma’s teat.”

  James slipped away from Terrwyn and gave her a shove to go on.

  “Please, James,” she said, “you don’t know how to fight.”

  James walked back to the innkeeper and withdrew a leather pouch from his belt. “I apologize for your wasted morning. As you can see, we leave on foot, not by horseback. I have my own mount waiting for us over there.” He motioned over his shoulder to where Zeus was tethered.

  “Who’s to say that one is yours?” The innkeeper looked James up and down. “I think you are both thieves and I aim to keep that stallion in protective custody. The bailiff will be around these parts of Wales in a month or two.” He moved toward the massive warhorse, a determined look in his eyes.

  “You really don’t want to do that.” James shook his head. “Zeus does not let just anyone handle him. He chooses who he lets take care of him, not the other way around.”

  “We’ll just see about that.”

  “Mind you, he’s maimed others before you.”

  “Hywel,” Tilda whimpered, “why not let them be on their way? We’ve good paying guests to tend when they awaken.”

  “Be quiet,” Hywel snarled. “Make yourself useful. Keep an eye on them. Don’t let them try anything underhanded.” He took a riding crop from the stable wall and marched over to the silver-coated stallion.

  Zeus glistened under the morning light. Sensing danger, he lifted his head. Nostrils flared, he stamped and pawed the ground with his hooves.

  The three onlookers stood together. Tilda looked anxiously over at James.

  Terrwyn gripped James’s arm. “You cannot let him hurt Zeus.”

  He chuckled and put an arm around her waist. He turned to Tilda. “Dear woman, I offered your husband a few coins for his time, and I see my young brother wishes to procure a pair of boots. Do you wish to finish the transaction before you have other—” he paused to search for the word, then found it, “—distractions?”

  “James,” Terrwyn said, “you pay too much.”

  “Ach, you mind your brother and quiet your tongue while he pays me what’s due.” Tilda had a sparkle about her that had not been there earlier. She counted aloud with James until there were ten coins in her palm. As they were finalizing the transfer of gold coins, they looked up to see Hywel sailing through the air.

  James could tell the innkeeper was still unconvinced, so he sat on a bench to examine one of the boots Terrwyn had found for him. He wondered if it would slide over the bandages. A small hiss of pain escaped when he managed to work it over the wound.

  The woman’s eyes shifted from her husband to look at him. “I’ve clean rooms if you are inclined. A bit of a wash-up would do you some good too.”

  James smiled amicably. “I will keep that in mind should I travel this way again. For now, I fear we have overstayed our welcome. We’ll be on our way soon.”

  Hywel sailed into the air a second time. A howling yelp erupted with a long string of curses. He rolled over the ground in pain, narrowly missing Zeus’s large hooves.

  Tilda raced over to her husband. James and Terrwyn followed behind her at a slower pace. Hywel lay gasping for breath and holding his ribs with one hand. He crawled up on all fours and proceeded to retch onto the ground.

  Seeing he was bruised but alive, Tilda began to tear into him with a lecture on greed. She paused her tirade long enough to watch James lift Terrwyn onto the stallion’s back. “Wait.”

  Lifting her skirts, Tilda ran back to the shed and returned in a matter of moments. She walked cautiously toward them and thrust a small woolen cap into James’s hand. “Your brother will need this to cover his long plait of hair.”

  James leaned over her reddened hand and brushed a kiss to her work-worn knuckles. Then he climbed up into the saddle and rode over to where Hywel lay. “You should be congratulated.”

  “Shut your trap, bloody fool,” Hywel groused.

  “Truly. He usually does not back off until the poor sod is unconscious. He must have taken a liking to you.”

  The innkeeper pushed up from the earth to sit upright. “You don’t say.”

  James saluted and walked Zeus sedately away from the crossroads. He reached around Terrwyn’s waist, the cap in his outstretched fingers. “Here. Put this on.”

  “James—
”

  “When you are willing to speak nothing but truth, I’d like to hear your reasons for breaking a promise you gave me less than a few hours ago. Until then, pray keep your silence and I will keep mine.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  They rode for half a day without speaking. The imposed silence hung between them like a rough woolen cloak. The weight of it rubbed at raw nerves, bringing their anger to heightened levels. Even Zeus must have felt James’s control start to slip. His ears back, the stallion flinched at every little sound.

  Terrwyn’s guilt over her broken promise dissipated. In its place, irritation bloomed and grew over the wall James was using as punishment. By the time they stopped to break their fast she had endured all the silence she was willing to take.

  The Bloated Goat loomed in front of them. Three smaller buildings stood around the tavern’s squatty structure. The shed near the smokehouse leaned to one side. It appeared ready to fall down at the next storm, although the barn where they would stable the horse looked sturdy enough. It bustled with morning life.

  “Wait,” Terrwyn said.

  James ignored her plea and lifted her down. He dismounted and released Zeus’s reins to the young stable boy. After a few words of instructions to the boy, he turned to lead the way. “Try not to draw their attention,” he said in clipped tones.

  She followed the direction where he pointed with a jerk of his chin. A few of the men standing on the nearby lane glanced her way. She felt her neck heat up. Reluctant to be put off, she grabbed his sleeve, tugging at the material.

  A single raven-colored eyebrow rose over his stern visage. “What troubles you now?”

  “How do you know Zeus won’t take a bite out of anyone who comes near? He might have a fit and trample everyone in his way. How can you think ’tis safe when he went after the innkeeper?”

  “I didn’t give him the signal.”

  “A signal?”

  He tapped the end of her chin, lifting it to shut her mouth.

  Terrwyn drew back, lifting her face to see if he jested. “You trained him to behave like a raving lunatic?”