Queen Of Knights Page 5

  Gwendolyn reached the door and opened it, but was again stopped by Roweena. “Your mantle?” her servant called.

  “Not tonight,” Gwendolyn replied. She stepped out of her bedchamber and walked to the main staircase.

  Halfway down the wide stone steps, Gwendolyn stopped.

  Below her a strange tableau unfolded. Within the flickering illumination of the taper-lit walls, she watched her grandfather take the extended hand of one knight and raise it to his lips. Instantly, Gwendolyn understood. Her eyes went to the other knight and her breath caught in her throat.

  It was Miles. When she returned her gaze to the first knight, she saw the deep border of his surcoat. Slowly, her eyes traced the faded coat of arms emblazoned within its center.

  The king! Even as she recognized Richard’s trappings, her grandfather stood and began to shout orders to the servants, but she could not will her feet to move. Finally, after a long, agonizing moment, Gwendolyn forced her muscles to obey and she started to retreat up the stairs.

  At that instant, Miles turned and looked at the staircase.

  His eyes bored into hers, and all thoughts of fleeing vanished. He smiled, showing strong white teeth, and Gwendolyn could do nothing but return the smile.

  Drawing in a deep breath, Gwendolyn descended the remaining steps and walked toward the three men. When she was within proper distance of the king, she dropped to one .knee and bowed her head low. Richard extended his hand, and Gwendolyn took it. She lifted his rough-edged hand to her lips and kissed the large ring on his forefinger.

  “Rise, Lady Gwendolyn,” Richard commanded in a deep voice. Gwendolyn rose gracefully and gazed at her monarch.

  Rather than trust her voice, she looked from the king to Miles. Their eyes locked, and the message that passed between them was clearly seen by Richard. He smiled as he turned to Sir Hughes.

  “Your granddaughter is even lovelier than I had been led to believe. I congratulate you.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” Hughes said in his gravelly voice.

  Gwendolyn realized her grandfather was staring at her with a strange expression. When her mind began to work again, she thought about what Richard had just said, and understood the look on her grandfather’s face. She almost laughed, but stopped herself. The Duke of Devonshire was thinking of a match with the king!

  “Your Majesty ...Sir Miles, if you will excuse me, I will check on our servants’ progress,” she said as she looked pointedly at her grandfather.

  “Yes,” Hughes agreed. He guided Richard, Miles, and several other knights through the hall and into the great hall that was now being readied to receive them.

  Gwendolyn watched the men leave. Her heart was racing, but she did not let her emotions show. When the knights passed from sight, she turned, her mind galvanizing her body to action. She went into the kitchen, issuing order after order. The smoke-filled room was a beehive of activity as the cooks tried valiantly to make a banquet fit for a king without any notice in advance. Everyone worked madly, and the only person who seemed relaxed was the tall, blonde woman who continually told everyone what to do.

  When enough food was ready, Gwendolyn breathed a sigh of relief. The servants began to bring out tray after tray, and even at this late hour, the feast was begun.

  Two hours later, Gwendolyn entered the hall. For the rest of her life, the memory of what she saw would live within her mind.

  The stone walls were alive with glowing tapers. Servants streamed in and out, carrying cask after cask of mead and ale. Seated at the center of the high table was King Richard, looking every bit the majestic warrior of whom so many tales were told. To his right, in the position of honor, was her grandfather, and to Richard’s left sat Miles. Along the tables set beneath theirs, was a mixture of Hughes’s and Richard’s knights, ten of them to each table. Behind the king stood his squire, and behind each of the knights stood theirs. Gwendolyn noticed that only one of the twin squires stood behind Miles. As was fitting, the squires were dressed in the colors of their lords.

  Gwendolyn realized that the most powerful man in the world graced her grandfather’s table. She knew it would be a night that would be spoken of in Kildrake for years to come.

  Stepping completely into the room, Gwendolyn walked toward the table. Conversation froze when she neared the men. Finally, when she was within speaking distance of the king, she stopped.

  “I pray everything was satisfactory, your Majesty,” she said.

  “Would that all my subjects feted me in this manner,” he replied.

  “Thank you.” Gwendolyn bowed low before the king.

  “Chambers have been prepared for you and your knights, Sire, and pallets have been laid for your squires. I pray you enjoy our home. Good-night, your Majesty.”

  Rising, Gwendolyn nodded to Miles, turned, and started gracefully from the room, her heart pounding with each step. She sensed something important would happen tonight, and hoped it would happen before she left the room.

  “Lady Gwendolyn,” Richard called out. Turning, Gwendolyn stared at her king. “Please join us for a moment.”

  “Your Majesty.” Gwendolyn blushed as she gazed at her grandfather and waited. Although the king had commanded her, it was still her grandfather’s castle, and he, not Richard, was lord of the manor. Gwendolyn knew that Richard’s request should be obeyed by both her and Sir Hughes, but the request itself was filled with impropriety. This was not a public feast where men and women sat together. She stood still for a moment, glancing at her grandfather.

  Hughes, because of his expansive mood, nodded and smiled at Gwendolyn. She returned to the table and sat directly across from the king.

  After she was seated, Richard exchanged a quick look with Miles. He lifted his hand to tug at his beard before continuing. “I have been king only a short time, and in that time, I have fought more battles than I had thought possible. Soon I will have to return to the Holy Land and fulfill my commitment to the pope. Before that, I want to unite my kingdom.”

  Gwendolyn listened to Richard while she gazed at the knights sitting at the other tables. They all seemed entranced by their warrior-king and listened to his every word.

  “It is with this in mind that I have ridden here, to Kildrake.”

  “Sire, you wish me to renew my pledge to you?” Hughes asked. It was not unheard of for a king to seek out individual members of the nobility and ask for a renewal of their oaths.

  “Nay, Hughes, we have no doubt of your loyalty to us. I am here for another purpose. I am here on behalf of Sir Miles.”

  “Sire!” Miles cut in, his voice hard as he looked at the king. Suddenly the smoky air of the hall grew tight with tension. Not even the sound of the squires’ feet on the rush-covered floor could be heard as the boys themselves stood frozen. The knights stared at Miles and the king, and Gwendolyn’s breath once again froze in her chest.

  “Very well, Sir Miles Delong, speak your piece!” Richard ordered with a sardonic smile.

  An uneasy silence lingered across the boards when Miles gazed directly at the old duke. He stared steadily at him for several seconds before glancing at Gwendolyn. When his eyes swept across her features, his face eased the harsh planes.

  “Sir Hughes,” Miles said in a clear voice for all to hear, “I have come to ask you for your granddaughter’s hand in marriage. “

  Hughes stared at Miles silently for several seconds before looking at the king. Finally, Sir Hughes, Duke of Devonshire, understood the reason for this unexpected visit. He shook his head sadly. “I wish it could be. The uniting of KiIdrake and Radstock would be of great benefit to England, but Gwendolyn is betrothed to Morgan of Guildswood. The contracts have been signed. I am powerless to stop it.”

  “We appreciate the lawfulness of what you say,” Richard interrupted as he lifted a cup and drank, “but I am your king, and I can order the betrothal ended.”

  “Your Majesty, I am an old man. I have fought alongside your father and have defended my country an
d my honor equally. I have never broken an oath, and will not willingly do so now!” Hughes declared, his eyes challenging the new king boldly.

  Gwendolyn felt a swelling of pride within her as she listened to her grandfather stand against Richard. Although she wanted to be free of Morgan, she did not want this at the expense of her grandfather’s honor.

  “Hughes, I am your king and Morgan of Guildswood’s also. You are both honor-bound to accept what I order. I shall issue a royal decree, compelling this marriage for the best interest of England. Such an edict will absolve you from both your pledge and from any wrongdoing.”

  Gwendolyn’s heart beat faster as she listened to the words. Miles had kept his promise! He had succeeded in gaining her hand. But uneasiness clouded her happiness. There would be trouble. Morgan would not give in readily. She knew what would happen in the years to come. She gazed at her grandfather’s pained expression and knew she was right. He, too, saw the problems to be faced.

  “Your Majesty, you cannot do that,” Gwendolyn said. Several gasps were heard, and Gwendolyn saw the look of fury her grandfather directed at her. But she knew she must speak. Her eyes remained fixed on the king’s, and, ignoring the warning within them, she continued.

  “To issue this decree would be wrong, and would hurt you in your efforts to rule England peacefully and totally.”

  Richard’s face ran a gamut of expressions until finally there was only a tolerant smile on his lips. “Continue,” he said with a disdainful wave of his hand.

  “Sire, my grandfather’s word as a knight is sacred, and thus it should not be put aside by royal decree. However, because of the code of chivalry, the very foundation that makes such oaths sacred, it would be possible to have this betrothal set aside.” Ignoring the open-mouthed stares of the knights, she bravely continued. “It is possible by using the very code that has made England so strong.”

  “And what would you suggest, my lady?” Richard asked indulgently.

  “A simple thing. If Sir Miles is of the ilk that he thinks himself, issue your command, my lord, but allow Sir Morgan the right to challenge. A joust would be fitting,” Gwendolyn declared. She breathed deeply while she watched Richard, hoping that all she had heard of his love of fighting and ceremony was true. She had no doubts of Miles’s ability, only of her own in manipulating a king who did not like women.

  “So it is blood and death you seek,” Richard commented as he favored her with a penetrating look.

  Gwendolyn blushed again, not from embarrassment, but from anger. When ‘she spoke, her voice betrayed no emotions. “No, my lord, even should it be so, I would not take a knight from you, nor would I have the death of either man upon my shoulders. A joust, with blunted lances and dull-edged swords only, would suffice to uphold both men’s knightly honor.”

  The table erupted with laughter and cheers at her words, and Gwendolyn allowed herself to smile as her eyes locked with Miles’s. She read a new respect in them, and her heartbeat slowed to normal.

  “By damn!” Richard cried, looking from Miles to Hughes.

  “Do you agree?” he asked. Both men nodded. “Then it shall be as the Lady Gwendolyn has said. By damn!” he repeated, giving Gwendolyn a long, appraising look of respect.

  A few minutes later Gwendolyn rose and bid everyone good-night, purposely avoiding a too long look into Miles’s face. When she bowed before Richard again, she smiled. “Thank you, Sire,” she whispered.

  Richard cupped her chin with his calloused fingers and made her look him in the eye. “You have much faith in his ability.”

  “He is your knight, is he not?” she responded as she stood and raised herself to her full height and looked King Richard level in the eyes.

  “Not since the moment he met you,” Richard conceded with a barking laugh.

  Chapter Three

  THE banquet hall was silent as Miles glanced around. It was after midnight and all but three of the knights had gone to their chambers; the three who remained were sleeping face down on the table, their squires asleep in a far corner. Richard had left the table an hour earlier, which allowed anyone who wanted sleep to depart.

  Sir Hughes had stayed for another half hour, talking earnestly with Miles. Miles, in the short time he’d spent in conversation with Hughes, had found him a likable man. Although his mannerisms were refined, and he bore himself proudly, Miles also saw the old Duke’s need to know his lands would go to the right heirs.

  He had as much as admitted that he’d not wanted the match between Gwendolyn and Morgan, and had even let slip that he had, once Gwendolyn had grown to her full height, despaired of ever finding someone who would marry her.

  Miles reasoned that that was the very reason for Gwendolyn’s early betrothal to Morgan. This knowledge eased his mind even more. He knew of Morgan by reputation as a fierce, but uncouth fighter, and he did not foresee any problem with the joust.

  “Sir Miles?” called Arthur. Miles turned to see the anxious face of his squire standing above him.

  “You have found out?” he asked. “I know her room.”

  “Take me there,” Miles whispered. He watched his young squire glance at the sleeping knights. “They are in another world.”

  Arthur led Miles toward the stairs. Ascending the steps, Miles heard the varied sounds of the sleeping castle: breezes filtering through openings in the stonework, tapers sputtering, and, although it was still night, the faint sounds of the scullery servants preparing for the large morning meal.

  When they reached the top of the stairs, Arthur turned down a torch-lit hallway and motioned for Miles to follow. Miles glanced at the walls and took in the tapestries covering the windows and door openings. They were all of fine workmanship, depicting many scenes of tourneys. He wondered if Gwendolyn’s fingers had wrought any of these patterns.

  The castle was not old by Saxon standards, perhaps a hundred years, if that. But the construction was solid, and the design of the castle denied its Norman heritage.

  Until the Norman invasion, the homes of English nobility had been built of wood. Castles were no more than a large grouping of homes, defended by a high wooden fence. But, with the conquering of the Saxons came the Norman builders to show the English the benefits of stone.

  No more did entire families die needlessly in the fires that had been as common as the deer in the forest. No more did each member of a family have to live in a separate dwelling within the compound. With stone buildings came security, security against fire, and security of sorts against attacks. But, Miles thought as he traversed the hallway in his squire’s wake, although the Normans had given them stone engineering, the true Saxon within each of them refused to follow the designs of the Norman castles. Here, as in Radstock, they clung to the old Saxon ways. The lord and lady of the castle lived in one wing, and the other family members in another. Not everyone in England adhered to this, but Miles was glad that Kildrake followed the older traditions.

  In Kildrake, the heart of the castle was its great hall, and from there, it spread outward. Some castles had as many as five separate wings for family and guests. Kildrake had two such wings and a third wing for the Duke’s men-at-arms and servants.

  The castle was ringed by a stone wall, and Kildrake's triangular design, with its three towers and three wings, was easily defended. From its high parapet battlements, any enemy or visitor could be seen from a mile away.

  “Here,” whispered Arthur, stopping before an arched doorway. At this doorway no tapestry hung. Instead, a leather-hinged, hewn door was fitted. This alone told Miles it was a room belonging to a member of the family, rather than a guest chamber or servants’ quarters.

  “Wait here for me,” Miles commanded the boy as he pushed the door inward. After a slight hesitation, the door opened, its hinges barely making a sound.

  Entering slowly, Miles closed the door behind him and let his eyes adjust to the dark. On the far wall, above the fireplace, a single taper burned, sending low shimmering lances of light throughout
the room.

  The floor was covered with fresh rushes, and their sweet fragrance rose to assault his senses. There were no window openings, but several tapestries hung on the walls. As his eyes swept the room, he saw a small alcove covered by another tapestry and knew Gwendolyn’s personal maid was sleeping within. Finally, Miles glanced at the bed. It was large, much larger than he would have expected, and framed with dark wood. Four posts rose, and thin curtains framed it, almost but not quite hiding its occupant from view.

  Miles stepped toward the bed. When he did, he heard a flutter of wings behind him and a bird’s low cry. He spun to face the large golden eagle called Valkyrie.

  The eagle stared at him from its wooden perch, and Miles willed his breathing to return to normal.

  “He will not harm you,” Gwendolyn whispered.

  Miles whirled again and saw she was sitting up, her bedcovers around her waist. In the instant before he spoke, he took in her entire countenance and reveled in the flowing blonde hair that framed her face, the proud carriage of her shoulders, and the full thrusting of her breasts beneath the bedclothes.

  “Because he knows I will not harm you,” Miles stated.

  “Because he knows you from the forest,” Gwendolyn corrected. “Why are you here?”

  “To speak with you,” he replied as he moved closer to her. Gwendolyn reached out and pushed aside the bed-curtain, allowing Miles an unrestricted view of her.

  “It is improper,” she whispered, but her voice held no reprimand.

  “What I have to say cannot be said with others about.”

  “What if someone comes?” she asked with a smile.

  “It is a chance I must take,” he replied honestly.

  “I have heard you are different than most. I am glad.”

  “What have you heard?” Miles asked as his eyes searched her face. Again, he realized her beauty was devastating. Her pale blue eyes sparkled in the subdued light, and her allure was something he had never before known.

  “That you are kind, considerate, and, above all, a knight of honor.”