Queen Of Knights (19 page)

"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 parchment 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.

The streets, actually pathways of the tent city, were filled with a multitude of people.  Some were going about their business, while others hawked wares and food, and yet others did nothing except watch and join whatever merriment happened along.

Women, be they camp followers, slaves, or peasants trying to find a master to serve who would ease their lot, scurried to-and-fro.  Watching it all was the mysterious hooded knight who spoke not a word, nor ventured from his tent, save to exercise with his squire.

It was the day before the tournament would commence, and a festive mood filled the air.  For most, the putrid scents of rotting food and unwashed bodies differed little from normal day-to-day life, but for Gwendolyn, in the guise of Eldwin, each passing hour taught her more and more about the people of her homeland, and the seriousness of their lot.

Inside the walls of Windsor, Richard sat on his high chair, addressing the gathered nobility before him.  For this occasion, the great hall of Windsor had been turned into a meeting room, and everywhere within the hall, Richard's knights, barons, dukes, and earls stood in attendance.

They had listened to Richard talk of the coming war, and had heard him read aloud the communication he had received from the French King Philip, that Philip and his army were finally ready to join Richard.

Richard boasted that it was he who had forced the deceiving king to hasten his preparations by sending a missive to the pope.

He laughed when he related the story, and laughed even louder when he told his men that Philip had been warned by the pope to either make ready, or face excommunication.

"It was a wise move," called Alfred of Wight.

"It was the only move left," replied Richard candidly.

"We leave a fortnight after this tournament." Spontaneous cheering reached the heavy rafters of the hall, as all the knights gave vent to their yearning for combat and blood.

"But now," Richard went on, "prepare for our feast, and for the games on the morrow." Everyone bowed when Richard stood, and they stayed that way until the king had left.

The milling nobility broke into small groups to discuss what they had heard, and Miles, seeing his chance to escape, began to make his way toward the door.  But before he reached it, a large hand fell on his shoulder.

"Hold," William Marshall said in a low voice.  "Richard would see you."

Miles nodded and followed the earl to a door which led into the large walled keep.  A few minutes later, Miles stepped into Richard's chamber and bowed low before the king.

"Rise, Miles, we have no need of formalities in private.  We have missed your presence over the winter months."

"My apologies, my lord," Miles said in a low voice.

"But we understand the reasons.  Does the Lady Gwendolyn still please you?" he asked.

"Daily."

“And you have planted the seed for an heir?"

“At this time I know not."

"But you have worked hard to try, have you not?"  Richard asked with a wide smile.  "I have heard the stories of your disappearance from Radstock for many months.  I envy you."

"Thank you, Sire,"

"But we miss the Lady Gwendolyn.  Why is she not in attendance?"

"She has taken sick, my lord, and I would not have her travel in that condition."

"Is it serious?" Richard inquired quickly, and Miles saw a true concern cover his features.

"I think not; the change of season has affected her," he explained, strangely pleased with this new revelation of his king.

"I understand.  I have seen many strong men felled by the same.  Yet I had hoped to feast with her this night.  She is a woman worthy of the company of men."

"I will convey your words to her; she will be pleased."

"And what of you? Are you less anxious to be off to war now that you have such a woman warming your bed?"

"I am only anxious to have done with it, and to defeat the Saracens so that I may return quickly to her," Miles said truthfully, realizing for the first time that he did want a fast end to this crusade.

"Then we shall have to be swift.  This tournament has helped to fill our coffers, and with it I have added hundreds of knights to my banner.  When we reach the Holy Land we will be strong!" he declared in a loud voice.

"So I pray, Sire," Miles said as he stole a glance at William Marshall, whose face had flickered sourly.

"But I am troubled," Richard continued.  "We have fought many times together, and yet you do not enter the tournament.  Why?"

"I have no need of more lands.  I am content with what I have."

"Yet, I had hoped to watch you defeat all others.  Miles, it saddens me that these knights will not see a true warrior battle."

Miles gazed at Richard, wondering how far he dare go, yet sensing that Richard's disapproval was only due to his thirst for the fight.

"Fear not, for there will be a knight fighting under my banner.  His fee was paid months ago by the Lady Gwendolyn."

"Is that so?" Surprised, Richard glanced at Marshall who nodded in confirmation.  "And who be this knight you have such trust in?"

"His name is Eldwin, and he was knighted by my own hand.  I have appointed him Protector of Radstock in my absence."

"To have such trust in a mercenary is foolish, Miles.  You of all people should know better."

"I have full trust in this knight, Sire.  He is like no other in all England."

"Your judgment has always been good; I pray it is in this case."

"It is," Miles declared.

"Yet, if he is victorious, as you seem to think he will be, you would lose this knight to the earldom he wins," Richard stated smugly as he ran his fingers across his lips in a characteristic gesture of thought.  "Yes, I would see the mettle of this knight.  You will point him out to me tonight," Richard ordered.

A warning chill raced along Miles's spine as he held the king's gaze tightly.  "I am sorry, Sire, but Sir Eldwin cannot join the feast."

"Why?" Richard demanded harshly.

"He has taken a vow of silence until you have succeeded with your mission in the Holy Land."

"Silence does not stop one from feasting or enjoying life!"

"True, but he is sworn never to show his face to another until the Saracens are defeated, and because of that, he wears a hood to shield his face from other eyes."

"Then how does he eat?"

"Privately, and I would beg you to not force him to break his vow.  He is not like most," Miles added in a low voice.

"I dislike not knowing the faces of my vassals," Richard growled in defeat.

"Sir Eldwin is loyal to England, Sire.  I stake my life upon it."

"It will be your life if you are wrong.  And if he wins the tourney, how can I make an earl of a faceless man?"

"You cannot.  Sir Eldwin seeks no title.  If he wins, he has but one simple request," Miles informed Richard.

"Simple?"

"Yes, Sire.  He wants to be knighted, again, by your hand.  That is the only reward he seeks."

"If he wins, he shall have it," Richard declared, flinging his hand before him in dismissal.  Miles bowed low and began backing toward the door, but Richard's voice stopped him.  "I thought you should know that Morgan of Guildswood has petitioned to fight by my side in Jerusalem and offers two hundred knights."

"He is a strong fighter," Miles replied carefully, forcing away the warning produced by Richard's words.

"He is," Richard said and waved his hand once again in a final dismissal.

Miles left the audience and walked through the large keep, his mind whirling with the last words Richard had uttered.  Why did Morgan choose to make his petition now? But Miles knew that the enemy he had made in Devonshire had returned to haunt him and understood that once the crusade was under way, he must watch Guildswood carefully.

Shrugging the thought away, he entered the crowded tent city and strode purposefully toward the banner of Radstock which flew high above his tent.

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Within her large tent, her mask always in place, Gwendolyn sat upon a rush mat awaiting Miles's return from his attendance at Richard's court.

She had used her time wisely, forcing herself to remain calm and relaxed, repeating silently to herself all the lessons she had been taught by her husband.  When the flap of the tent parted, her concentration dissolved and she looked into the worried face of Miles.

She watched him secure the flap so that no one could enter, and when that was done, Gwendolyn removed the mask, and took a deep breath.

"What is bothering you?" she asked.

"Morgan."

Gwendolyn waited patiently until he explained what had happened with Richard.  "But that should make no difference to you.  You care not for the glory Richard and the others seek.  You go only out of your obligation as the king's vassal."

"It is not the crusade I worry about.  I do not fear Morgan, but I fear for you tomorrow, and for the entire tournament.  When I left Richard I went inquiring among the knights I know.  Morgan has been boasting that he will defeat me in this tournament and recoup his losses from our last meeting."

"But you are not entered in the tourney."

"Morgan has not yet learned of that.  When he does, he will go after you with a vengeance.  I had not thought of that when I agreed to this tournament and am at fault."

"Fear not, Miles, for Morgan does not frighten me."

"He frightens me!" Miles spat.  "I've fought him.  I know his power.  He is strong and ruthless and will stop at nothing to defeat anyone under the colors of Radstock."

"Calm yourself, my husband.  I shall not give Morgan the opportunity to harm us."

"You may not have the choice."

"I will stay across the field from him until there is no other opponent.  Perhaps someone will defeat him first," she said hopefully.

"I will pray for that, but his hatred is a strong force within him."

"And one that may help to defeat him.  But," she said as a smile brightened her face, "did you speak with Richard about my request?"

"Yes.  If you win, you shall be knighted again by Richard himself."

"Thank you, my lord."

"Do not thank me until the deed is done," Miles cautioned.

They sat silently until darkness fell, and Arthur came to dress Miles for the banquet.  When he was gone, Gwendolyn again put on the mask of Sir Eldwin and sat cross-legged on the rush mat with the silver sword resting upon her thighs.  She cleared her mind and fell into a trancelike state, willing the channel that linked her to the sword to open, and when it did, she drew from it the strength and calmness she would need on the morrow.

<><><>

The tournament began as none other save the king's would.  The long procession of knights was led into the wide green swarth by the king's bodyguards and was preceded by five ranks of trumpeters blowing the call to arms.

The knights, dressed in full armor and colors, presented a picture that would not be forgotten quickly.  Three hundred proud warriors rode into the arena.  Of the large group, a full three-quarters were landless knights, each of whom was hopeful that at the end of three days, he would be proclaimed an Earl and elevated to the ranks of nobility.  Of the others, who already ranked in the nobility of England, each of them wanted two things: the prestige and glory of winning the king's tournament, and the added riches of more land and yet another title.

For the crowd who gathered to witness this day, excitement swirled thickly in the air.  Women called out to their husbands, mothers cried to their sons, and all felt the thrill of the battle that would soon commence, for a battle it would truly be.

Gwendolyn, wearing her full armor and sitting astride her mount in the second rank of knights, gazed steadily at where Richard stood on his platform.  Waiting for him to speak and order the tournament to begin, she thought back to the morning, and the words of caution her husband had given her.

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The early cock's first cries drew Gwendolyn from her sleep.  She had awakened instantly and opened her eyes.  Blinking, she had seen Miles's shadowy form sitting next to her.

"Your day begins," he had whispered.

"Our day," she had replied as she raised her hand to caress his large shoulder.  His hand covered hers and squeezed it gently.

"This is your first tournament.  I must speak to you of it," he had said in a low voice.  He had waited until Gwendolyn nodded her head before he went on.  "Although you have witnessed many tournaments, there is nothing to prepare you for it.  Gwendolyn, you must remember that the difference between a tournament and a true battle is almost indistinguishable.  Those knights whom you will face today, and in the coming days, are fighting for something they want.  They will fight their opponents as if it were to the death, and indeed, there will be many who will lose their lives."