Queen Of Knights Read online

  "And that oath?"

  "The first part is an oath of silence: that until the Holy Land is freed from the hold of the Saracens, you shall not speak. The second part is similar. You take oath that until the Holy Land is free, no man may look upon your face."

  "But," Gwendolyn had cried when his words echoed through her mind, "it will not be possible."

  "Yes, it will. Your squire will be your spokesman. When you are not about your knightly duties, you are the Lady Gwendolyn of Radstock and unbound by the oath of your knightly self. As for your face, a leather mask will be made revealing only your eyes, and with small holes to breathe through."

  "Are you sure it will suffice?" she'd asked.

  "It is your only chance. Do you agree?"

  "I agree, my lord," she'd replied.

  When Gwendolyn had more time to think about Miles's idea, she saw it was not only the perfect solution, but the only one feasible.

  "My lady?" Roweena called for the third time.

  "Yes?" Gwendolyn asked, drawn from her thoughts. She looked up to see Roweena standing with her bath sheet. She stood, letting her servant wrap her tightly. "Where are my clothes?" she asked.

  "My lady, Lord Miles ordered me to bring you to his chamber without clothing," she stated.

  "So be it," Gwendolyn replied. She followed Roweena across her own antechamber and waited until the young woman opened the heavy door leading into Miles's formal dress chamber.

  When she entered the room, she paused. Lined on the floor were all the garments of her rank. Standing to one side was James, fully dressed, and with a new surcoat. Gwendolyn stared at its coat of arms, until her throat constricted tightly.

  The coat of arms was completely new. It was the full coat of Radstock, surrounded by a golden border, and sitting upon the border was a golden eagle with its wings spread wide.

  When Gwendolyn finished looking at it, she gazed into James's eyes. "Leave us," James commanded Roweena in a voice that brooked no argument.

  Roweena stiffened momentarily, then turned and left the small chamber.

  "My lord," James said as he stepped toward Gwendolyn. "I am James, son of Harold, who died in the service of good King Henry. Will thou accept me as your squire?" he asked, going to one knee before her.

  "Rise, James, son of Harold. I accept thee as my squire and accept my responsibility to you as your lord."

  "I thank you, my lord," James replied when he stood. "It is time to dress," he said. Gwendolyn lifted her arms, and James unwound the bath sheet. She stood naked before him, not bothered by him seeing her so, knowing that he did not look upon her as a woman. When he had offered his service as squire, he had looked upon her as he would any other knight.

  James moved swiftly and surely as he dressed Gwendolyn. He dressed her the same way that Miles had every day of the past nine months. First her loincloth, which James clasped over her hips. Then he held her breast support, and when it was slipped over her arms, James stepped behind her to buckle it closed.

  He returned to the garments on the floor and carefully lifted the first. He held it up for Gwendolyn to inspect, and her breath caught in her throat. It was a new gamboise, the stitching of the quilt showed that fact plainly. He held it toward her, and she put her arms through the proper openings. Stepping behind her again, James laced the protective undergarment closed. Gwendolyn stood proudly, gazing down at the gamboise. It reached to mid-thigh and was split in the center as would be the hauberk.

  "Sewn into the middle of the gamboise," James said in a low voice, "is a metal breastplate. Sir Miles thought it would be best."

  Gwendolyn didn't reply as James continued to dress her.

  Next came the cuisses, the protection for her thighs, knees, and shins, and over that, James laced on the full maille chausses. When he was done, he stepped back to inspect his work. Nodding, he returned to the waiting objects and picked up the next.

  Twenty minutes later, Gwendolyn's arms were protected by rerebraces, and vambraces of leather, and maille, and James was holding up the shining new hauberk for Gwendolyn's inspection. The coat of maille glowed from the light of the tapers, and, again, Gwendolyn's breath caught. She held up her arms, and James draped the hauberk upon her. The weight of the maille was not light, but Gwendolyn felt it not at all as chills of anticipation and excitement coursed along her skin. When the maille was in place, she breathed deeply, adjusting her body to its weight.

  Carefully, James placed the arming coif over Gwendolyn's head and laced it at her throat. Then he lifted Gwendolyn's coif-de-maille, with its full-shoulder coverings, and settled it on her.

  After he attached the coif to its hooks, James turned from her and went to the table. There he lifted some folded material and returned to Gwendolyn. "My lord," he said as he unfurled the surcoat. Emblazoned on its front was an- other coat of arms. This time no shield of Radstock showed. The coat of arms was simple in the extreme, yet it sent Gwendolyn's blood running molten within her veins.

  Embroidered upon the surcoat was a perfect circle of black. Within the circle was a golden eagle, its wings outspread. In the eagle's talons was a silver longsword, and beneath the horizontal longsword was the winged dragon of Wales. Gwendolyn closed her eyes for a moment as her mind whirled happily. She opened them to find James holding the surcoat up, ready to slip it over her head.

  It took only five minutes more for James to finish. He attached the weapon hooks and placed her long dagger on one, her battle-axe upon the other, and then reverently, for he had witnessed the power of the silver sword, attached the sword in its scabbard to the proper place.

  When that was done, James bowed to Gwendolyn and left the chamber. While she was alone, she tried to calm her mind. The unfamiliar feel of her new armor did not bother her, and her only thought was a prayer that she would be able to handle herself without giving away her true identity.

  Then all thought was wiped from her mind when she heard movement from the other chamber. She gazed at the door- way and then held her breath. James and Arthur stepped inside. They were now dressed differently. James wore the same surcoat he'd had on when he'd dressed Gwendolyn, and Arthur wore the coat of arms of Radstock. They stepped forward, separated, and stopped in unison. When they did, Miles entered.

  He was dressed exactly as she, in full knightly armor, and upon his surcoat was the emblem of Radstock. His longsword hung almost to the floor, and his mailled hand rested on its hilt.

  He stopped three feet from Gwendolyn, and his deep green eyes stared into her lighter ones. Then a shadowy smile etched the corners of his mouth.

  "Kneel," he commanded in a low voice.

  Gwendolyn shook herself free of his haunting gaze and lowered herself to both knees. There, below her husband, she raised her eyes to his.

  "On this day, we do perform a service for our country," he proclaimed in a smooth, rolling voice. He withdrew his longsword and raised it above her head with both mailled hands. "By the right given to me as a knight of England, I do proclaim in the very name of England," he intoned and touched her left shoulder with the blade before lifting it and speaking again. "And, with the grace of our king, Richard.

  I," he said, lowering the sword to rest upon her right shoulder for a moment, before lifting it above her head again. "And, by the powers that oversee all that happens upon this earth," he intoned as the sword dropped for the third time to rest upon Gwendolyn's mailled head, "I declare you a knight of England, and charge you with all the responsibilities and obligations of your new rank. Rise, Sir Eldwin, Knight Protector of Radstock," he finished.

  With her eyes filling with teardrops, Gwendolyn rose to face her husband on equal footing.

  "Your sword, Sir Eldwin." Gwendolyn withdrew her sword, and handed it to him. "Upon this sword, you must now swear your oath."

  Gwendolyn looked at the silver sword and cleared her mind of everything. She sensed the power of the blade and willed all other thoughts, save the thought of it, away. Kneeling upon one knee, she too
k the sword in her mailled hands, and, holding it in front of her, with her eyes locked upon Miles's, she spoke.

  "I, as Sir Eldwin, hereby swear that until the Holy Land is freed of Saracens and returned to the rightful hands I shall not speak, nor shall I let any gaze upon the face beneath the armor I wear." Then Gwendolyn brought the blade to her lips and pressed it close.

  "Rise, Sir Eldwin, and receive a gift."

  Gwendolyn stood again, and looked at Miles's outstretched hand. Hanging from his fingertips was a chamois mask. Instinctively, she knew it had been made from the soft leather that had always held her sword. She nodded, knowing she could not speak as long as she wore her armor and stood in the guise of Sir Eldwin. But she had no need for words.

  "James, see to your lord," Miles ordered. "I would like to spend the rest of the day with my wife," he added dryly as he turned, sheathed his sword, and left the dress chamber with Arthur in attendance.

  Twenty minutes later, naked as the day she had entered the world, Gwendolyn went to the marital chamber she shared with Miles to find him awaiting her in their bed.

  "My lord," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "My lady," he responded as he held out his arms to her. She went to him and they joined together as man and wife.

  Sir Eldwin set aside for the moment, the only inhabitants in their world were Miles and she, locked together in a passionate embrace that excluded all else.

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  During the next three days, while the preparations for the spring tournament progressed, both Miles and Gwendolyn rode the lands, checking on the planting and the birthings of the flocks. Because of the long months of her training, it was as if Gwendolyn were again seeing the land for the first time.

  The sloping lands and rolling hills were unlike Devonshire, but they held their own beauty and lure. It was an open land, filled with crops and sheep, and not a few head of beef.

  It was the custom of the lord of the land to inspect everything. It was also his right and due. But Gwendolyn marveled at the respect shown to him by his vassals and noted how even the lowliest of the serfs and slaves showed him their regard.

  Yet, even though she witnessed this display of affection for her husband, she also saw the poor state of most of the homes. When she asked Miles about it, he explained.

  "Richard is bankrupting the country. He takes every free shilling for his wars. But we must pay, not because we are vassal to him, but because he is the figurehead England needs to pull her together," he said as he drew his horse to a halt near the summit of a low hill.

  "Who says Richard will bring the land together?" Gwendolyn asked, unsatisfied with her husband's answer.

  "Gwendolyn, for two hundred years England has been at war with herself. The barons, and the rest of the nobility, have spent their lives feuding with each other, enlarging their lands, and fighting endlessly. When Henry became king, he was able to stop it to some small degree, but even he had agreed for wealth which could not be stopped. Richard is the first king to sit on the throne that cares not for property."

  "No," Gwendolyn said quickly, stalling any further explanation from Miles. "No, his greed is for glory and to raise his soul and image above all others. His greed is for war. It is his sickness!" she declared.

  "Yes," Miles agreed, surprising Gwendolyn. "But for our country it is a better sickness than the other. We are at peace with ourselves. At Richard's coronation, we gathered not as knights of the realm, nor as Richard's vassals. We met, all the barons, dukes, and earls of England, and agreed to support Richard in his fierce quests, so long as England remained untouched and could heal from its age of sickness."

  "But so much money, so much of our property lays in ruin because of this."

  "And while I am gone, it shall be on your shoulders to make do as best you can."

  "I shall, my lord," Gwendolyn promised.

  When they returned to Radstock Castle, the conversation weighed heavily on her mind, and she made herself another promise. Somehow, she would improve the lot of the people of Radstock. How, she did not know, but she would find a way.

  The days had passed quickly, but not quickly enough for Gwendolyn. With the sunrise of the fourth day, Gwendolyn woke anxiously. She put on a tunic and, without waking Miles, left their chamber and ascended the stairs, stepping onto the high battlement of Radstock.

  The sun was just rising, and the sky was clear and cloudless in all directions. Below her, in the outer ward, the horses and equipment waited. Twenty horses, along with her own palfrey, and Miles's heavy charger, were lined up and being attended.

  They would be gone for two weeks, and in that time, Sir Eldwin would ride for the first time, and the deception of Radstock would begin. She and Miles had discussed this, but it had been she who had devised the plan for Radstock. Whenever she rode as Sir Eldwin, Roweena would tell all that the Lady Gwendolyn was ill and in her chamber.

  Anything that had to be dealt with, Roweena would handle, deferring all important decisions until Gwendolyn returned.

  "My lady," called James from behind her.

  Gwendolyn turned and saw the boy standing near the staircase. "Good morrow, Squire," she greeted him.

  "It is time," he informed her.

  "I shall be down in a moment," she said. James bowed and left her, sensing her need to be alone for a minute longer.

  Gwendolyn sighed and looked across the lands once more.

  Then she willed her nerves to steady and closed her eyes. She built a picture of her silver sword within her mind and saw the purity of the light surround it. She felt the perfection of the light fill her and let it soothe her anxieties. When the mind-picture faded, she opened her eyes and went to the stairs.

  In their chamber, Roweena had laid out a meal for both her and Miles, and while the squires set out their knightly apparel, Miles and Gwendolyn broke fast together, both issuing instructions to Roweena for the time they would be gone.

  An hour after the meal was finished, Miles left the chamber dressed as befitted his station as Earl of Radstock. Although he was not in full armor, Gwendolyn could not but help the desire surging within her breasts at the sight he presented. He stood tall and proud, his legs encased in leather, his short hauberk of maille covered by his white surcoat, and his hands encased in leather gauntlets.

  Because none must know her true identity, Gwendolyn was forced to wear full armor for the trip. But, since she would be riding and not fighting, she chose not to wear her maille chausses, and instead let James wrap her legs in leather bindings. She did wear the gamboise beneath her maille hauberk so that none could tell the shape of her torso. Instead of her coif-de-maille, Gwendolyn put on the chamois mask, and the arming coif of leather.

  With James guiding her, they took a back passage through the castle and then followed a secret tunnel that Miles's father had constructed. In the emptiness outside the high wall of Radstock, James led Gwendolyn, as Sir Eldwin, to her horse. After they mounted, they rode slowly toward the spot Miles had told them to wait.

  Within the outer ward, Miles signaled his men out of the castle. His every nerve was tautly stretched with the knowledge that the next few minutes would decide the fate of Sir Eldwin, and the Lady Gwendolyn.

  When the last knight passed through the gate, Miles ordered a halt. Just then the armored figure of another knight rode toward them.

  Although his men were always prepared for a fight, Miles sensed that this new knight with the face covering disconcerted them. Not knowing what to expect, they waited for some signal from their lord.

  Gwendolyn rode slowly until she was within touching distance of Miles. Then she dismounted and approached him. Stepping before Miles, she drew her sword and kneeled in one smooth movement. She extended the sword upward to him and waited.

  Miles dismounted and stood above her. He took the sword from her mailled hand and spoke. "Rise, Sir Knight, and speak your mind," he commanded formally.

  Instead of speaking, the knight withdrew a rolled parchme
nt and handed it to Miles. Miles opened it and read it quickly. Then he signaled to James, who was standing by his horse's side. James strode purposely forward, and when he reached Miles, dropped to one knee quickly before rising.

  Then James spoke in a voice loud enough for all to hear.

  "My lord, this is the knight you sent me to find. Sir Eldwin of Maidstone, sworn to the service of Lady Gwendolyn of Radstock. Sir Eldwin is under the vow of silence and may not speak."

  "Sir Eldwin," Miles said in a loud voice, "we welcome you to Radstock and gladly accept your services," he intoned as he handed Gwendolyn back the silver sword. "Because we value the Lady Gwendolyn, and because we know she values you so highly, I accept your services and appoint you to the station of Knight Protector of Radstock. Join us, Sir Eldwin," Miles commanded.

  Gwendolyn, through the eye-slits of her mask, watched not only her husband, but the knights mounted behind him. She knew he had already spoken to his men about the knight who would be joining them. He had told them he'd hired the services of this knight when he had wed Gwendolyn, and that this religious, yet fearsome knight would stand his place while he went with Richard to the Holy Land.

  This tourney of Richard's, should Gwendolyn be victorious, would solidify Sir Eldwin's position and earn her the respect of the knights of Radstock, for there was no knight who would begrudge the king's champion his due.

  With the formalities completed, Miles, with Sir Eldwin riding beside him, ordered his men forward, and thus they began the three-day journey to Windsor, where Richard had ordered the spring tournament to be held.

  Chapter Eleven

  WINDSOR was everything Gwendolyn had heard it was. King Henry's massive, round keep dominated all and was visible for miles. Yet not even that imposing tower could hold anyone's eyes for more than a moment. Surrounding the castle, spreading out in all directions, were thousands of tents. Nearly all the nobility of England, and almost every knight and mercenary who had dreams of gaining an earldom, was camped around the high walls of Windsor.