The Vow (9 page)

At the sight of me standing at the top of the guildhall steps, gasps wove through the marketplace, and soon every person, young and old, bowed to one knee. From atop his steed, the knight, too, lowered his head.

“Thank you, my lady,” the criminal spoke through cracked lips. I recognized him as one of the men I’d recently pardoned. He’d been accused of stealing out of the parish coffers so that he could pay his rent and provide food for the numerous orphan children he kept in his care. I’d determined then, as I did now, that he didn’t deserve punishment but rather benevolence.

I tucked the cloak more securely around his shuddering body before rising to my full height and straightening my shoulders with frustration. Who had dared to override my compassion? And why?

I narrowed my eyes on the bailiff and constable, who had knelt along with the rest. “Bailiff,” I called. “I shall require an answer for this blatant disregard of my laws.”

He lifted his head, and fear flashed across his countenance. “I was only carrying out the sheriff’s orders, my lady.”

My frustration fanned hotter. I should have known. The sheriff hadn’t approved of my leniency among the populace. But with two recent outbreaks of a mysterious illness in outlying areas, the poor were dying, and I had no choice but to bestow more compassion.

“Tell the sheriff I request his presence at the Great Hall this very day. And you will accompany him.”

The bailiff lowered his head in acquiescence.

Inwardly, I sighed at the confrontation that was to come. The sheriff had never liked me, even though he’d saved me from a plague-stricken peasant several years ago. He was the kind of man who thought women were useless. And now that I’d inherited Ashby, his dislike had only grown, as had his resistance to taking orders from me. Of course, I hadn’t yet become full ruler of my lands. I was still under the guidance and leadership of Abbot Francis Michael until my eighteenth birthday. But in a month, I would be able to rule on my own, even if it would be from the convent as a nun. The sheriff would eventually have to learn to accept my decisions. No matter how much he disliked the idea of having a female ruler, I was the only and rightful heir to Ashby.

The warhorse in front of me snorted, shifting my attention back to the knight, who was obviously waiting, as he should, for me to speak first and acknowledge his presence.

“Sir,” I started. “I owe you my deepest gratitude.” Only then did he straighten. Through the eye slits, his guileless gaze met mine and radiated with approval. And somehow I knew he was a friend, not a foe.

“My lady.” His voice echoed behind the hollow metal. “You owe me nothing.”

If only he would remove his helmet so I could see his mouth, to know whether he offered me a smile. Although I wasn’t sure why that should matter.

He shifted in his saddle, his steed tossing its head and growing restless.

I was tempted to order him to dismount and show his face. Who was he? A lord from one of the neighboring lands? But before I could speak, he shied back a step. “For one as fair and kind as you, my lady, whatever you wish shall always be my command.”

With that, he bowed one last time. Then, tucking his halberd under his arm, he gave rein to his horse, allowing the beast to twist and rear away. Before I could tell him to stop, he galloped across the square and veered down the main street that led to the city gates.

Like everyone else, all I could do was stare after him until he disappeared.

The story continues in
An Uncertain Choice
by Jody Hedlund.