Journey in Time (Knights in Time) (30 page)

At the altar, he turned her toward the entry. Stephen, on Eclipse, led five more knights mounted on black horses into the chapel. Firelight bounced off their gleaming armor as each man lit a torch. In the glint, they were illuminated characters from a medieval manuscript come to life. Then, in a single motion, their mounts executed a perfect pirouette and rode out.

"Oh, Alex," was all she said, struck by the magnificence of what he’d put together.

     
The ceremony went on and on. Alex warned her. But God Almighty, this was waiting for an empty London cab in the rain long. Thanks to their secret code she knew what to do during the Latin Mass.
 

     
It was time for the ring. There hadn't been a spare minute for Alex to obtain one. She hoped an old ring of his mother's might be around, although, she had her doubts about the fit.

Alex slipped a perfectly fitted ring on her finger. The cabochon ruby set in gold with an intaglio of a swan was identical to his. She thought of the day he came to her office. His cufflinks bore the same design. Amazed, she stared at the ring and then up at her husband. Who was this man she had married? This man who was a blend of old world and new, who ordered a special ring, arranged for knights on horseback to perform, who made sure she had an enchanting veil to wear.

He held her close and led her down the aisle to the waiting villagers. After what felt like hours of dispensing pennies, and wine, and meat pies, and tarts, they bid farewell to the crowd in the bailey.

"I have one more surprise to show you before we go into the feast," he said, looking devilishly pleased with himself. "It’s in our chamber."

"A honeymoon surprise...in our chamber..." Her eyes dropped to his manhood and up again. "You haven’t gotten yourself pierced, or tattooed, or something weird have you?"

"The very idea is disgusting. If some perve came at me with a cock ring or tattoo needle in his hand, he’d best have a sword in the other."

She laughed knowing he meant it. "Sorry, but my choices were limited. I thought we’ve explored most of your private chamber surprises."

"Just come along, wife of mine."

***

Alex went to the locked wooden trunk where he stored their modern clothes. She sat at the table as he dug through the chest. From the bottom, he removed a bundle covered in sheepskin and laid the parcel in front of her.

"Open it."

She untied the four corners and there protected by the fleecy underside lay two ornate pewter chalices.

"My God, they’re extraordinary."

Each had a famous legend sculpted onto the cup with jeweled accents. On the first, a knight fought a fierce dragon. Gold filament highlighted the flames that licked at the knight’s lance. Emeralds set off the monster’s eyes and inset in the stem was a ruby the size of the nail on her little finger.

"Saint George?"

Alex nodded.

She set the goblet aside and picked up the second. A woman, head bent as in prayer, clasped a sword and rose from a body of water made of pave sapphires. Gold filaments highlighted the sword’s hilt and imbedded into the stem was a grey pearl. Shakira ran the tip of her fingers across the jeweled water, "The Lady of the Lake, from the Arthurian Legends?"

Alex nodded again. "They were a wedding gift to my parents from Basil’s father and mother. Do you like them?”

"I love them." She stroked them and started to rewrap them in their protective fleece.

"Leave them out. We'll have a private toast later."

She pressed her cheek to his. "Thank you for a wedding beautiful beyond my imagination."
 

"I wanted to please you.” Alex extended his hand. “Come, they’ll be missing us.”

They joined the rest of the guests at the steps of the Keep. “Welcome to the family, dear sister.” Feminine arms hugged her as they entered the banquet.
 

     
Shakira let Madeline lead her along as she watched Alex walk ahead, flanked by Basil and Hugh. He may not love her yet, but he would. She’d make him love her, no matter where they were in time.

Chapter Thirty-Six

"Uh-oh," Stephen pointed a wet arm toward the center of the bailey. "I think your lady wife is in need of a rescue."

"What?" Alex flipped his damp hair back and continued to rub himself dry. Drenched in sweat after practice in the lists and immune to the bite of crisp fall air, both men had dumped a bucket of water over themselves.

"See for yourself. That ham-fisted miller, Butterfield, has her engaged in a heated argument." Stephen slung the drying cloth over his shoulder. "Should I see what the trouble is?"

"Wait," Alex said, amused as Shakira gave Butterfield an earful. "I have every confidence in my wife. About now, he's probably wishing he never said anything but ‘yes milady.’ In fact, I'll place a wager on her."

"I don’t know. The old windbag can talk the bark from a tree if he thinks it is to his advantage."

"You were in court the day she challenged Dankworth's testimony. Do you think a dim-witted knave like Butterfield can best her?"

"His words aren’t worrisome, but he hates to be gainsaid. You know the fool’s temper."

"As long as he remains on the cart and she's on the ground he can't get to her, not before I kill him anyway." Alex threw the offhand comment out, but watched the activity with a sharp eye. "Will you wager or no?"

Stephen shook his head no.

Shakira pointed to a sack on the ground and then to some spilled flour on the cart. She grabbed a handful from the sack by her feet and held it up to Butterfield before flinging the powder away.

Alex and Stephen exchanged a humorous glance. "Not looking good for the miller," Alex said and added, "She's battle ready now. Hands on the hips, feet planted."

"And giving him a litany of her grievances from appearances," Stephen said.
 

Butterfield stirred a flurry of flour into the air as he stomped closer to Shakira.

Alex raced over as she grasped the edge of the cart and tried to scramble up, her effort hampered by her heavy skirts.

"Shakira..." He hooked an arm around her waist and hauled her out of harms way. "Stay off there. What is this about?"

"He--" She pointed an accusatory finger in the miller's direction. "He's been selling us this...this, bug infested, gritty meal and charging us for the best," she said and pointed to the bag on the ground. Her head snapped back around, narrowed, angry eyes raked the offender, "Bloody, buggery, bastard."

Alex burst out laughing.

"It’s not funny. He’s a crook and I'll prove it. Richard, bring the account books, please." The steward's bemused grin evidence he enjoyed the drama as much as everyone else.

"See." She flipped through several pages of kitchen records, the order and payment figures. "He charges us top price but delivers this, this, stuff, that's comparable to mortar. As it happened, Richard and I were here waiting for him, all set to complain about our bread tasting like sand. While the buffoon delivered the usual rubbish to us today, he accidentally knocked over a sack of the good flour. Anybody with eyes can see the difference in texture."

Alex walked to the bag on the ground and rubbed the powder between his fingers. Then, he hopped into the cart and repeated the action with the spilled meal.

"Milord?" The miller retreated to the wagon's far corner, his stricken face at the fraud's discovery.

"What do you think is a suitable punishment?" Alex kept his back to Butterfield and ignored the miller’s feeble attempts to interrupt him. Shakira would decide the cheat's fate. He brought her into the decision process to publicly reaffirm her position as chatelaine and authority in household matters.

"For one year we should receive the quality flour at the lowest rate. Plus, a free sack is to be given to each family in the village at the Yuletide and Easter."

The crowd cheered.

"'Tis an outrage!" Butterfield stepped away from the corner as he sputtered his protest. "One year of my best for a pittance and so many free sacks to the village? The woman would make a pauper of me."

"Perhaps, you're right. There is another option. I can try you as a thief and from the evidence find you guilty. You are aware conviction means eviction from my land." Alex circled the offender. "I hear the miller from Harescombe was burned out and needs work." The threat silenced any counter argument.

"One more thing--" Alex jumped down, taking the linen Jared offered to wipe his boots. "Be warned Butterfield, my wife is Lady Shakira, not 'the woman’. Remember your place."

The miller surrendered the bags of better flour and loaded the rejected sacks onto the wagon. He rumbled out of the bailey to the jeers and stones from several young boys.

Alex took Shakira aside. "Has anyone ever told you how sexy you are when you’re in high dudgeon?" He tapped the end of her nose, playfully. "That said, arguing with a fool like Butterfield is one thing. Climbing onto his cart and within arm’s reach is another. His sort has no qualms about hitting a woman. Only here, he wouldn’t be assaulting my mistress or the king’s ward. He’d be abusing my wife. Here, I am both judge and jury. His punishment is mine to decide and administer. Enough said?"

She nodded.

"Now, come with me." Alex slid an arm around her waist.

"I like your description of my mood, high dudgeon. It's cool, in an old world kind of way. Where are we going?"

"I’ll send for a clean shirt and your cloak. We're going to ride to the rock. I've a feeling, call it a sixth sense, this is our lucky day."

"I'd never imagined you buying into any sort of woo-woo type of sentiment. Have you experienced ESP before?"

"Once."

"When?"

"At Poitiers."

"How interesting."

"Not really. I apparently suffered temporary psychic dyslexia interpreting it."

"What happened?"

"I had the distinct feeling I would survive." He tried to keep a straight face and couldn't.

"You are so unfunny."

The cook, delighted with the outcome of the flour incident, insisted on packing a light meal for their ride. Shakira utilized the basket filled with cheese and apples to hold some seasonal wildflowers she gathered on the way.

They tied the horses and sat propped against the stone, snacking and talking about everything except the portal. Superstition wasn't part of either's makeup. But in this one area, they mutually agreed to keep negative comments out of their conversation for fear of jinxing their chances.

"Did you hear that thunder?" Shakira turned in the direction of the low rumble.

"I heard. Let’s go before the storm catches up to us."

Alex stood and offered her a hand. She didn’t move but continued to watch the horizon.

"What are you looking for?"

"Lightning or some red in the sky."

"I don’t see either, just the usual grey clouds. If lightning does start, we shouldn’t be out here. Come on, tomorrow's another day."