Warrior's Moon A Love Story (11 page)

“I shall grow older while you are training, Peyton.  How long do you think it will be before they shall want you?”

“I’ve no notion.  I desire to go, but still, I hope it’s not straight away.  I just got to truly dream of our sure future together.  I’d like to enjoy that for awhile.  How long do you think it will be before you grow older enough?”

She smiled shyly.  “You’re the one who says I’m not old enough now, Peyton.  Perhaps circumstances themselves will dictate what the timeline of our lives becomes.  Our Father’s hand is in all of this.  We’ll live on His schedule.  Perhaps all of this is why thou art come to the kingdom at such a time as this.  Like Esther, in the old stories of the Jews.  Perhaps even I have been sent for such a time as this.  How long will you be in training before they let you become a knight?”

He shrugged.  “I’ve no notion of that either.  I guess that will depend on how well Mordecai has already taught me and how great their need of new men is.  I shall do as I am requested and then come back for you as soon as I can.”

For a time they walked in silence, both of them caught up in their own thoughts until finally, Chantaya asked, “How far is the king’s castle from here, Pey?”

“Three hours ride east.  Maybe four.  I’m not entirely sure.  Why?”

“I just wondered about how far you would be from me.”

“I will always be in your heart, Chani.  And the same moon will rise and set over me near the castle as will rise and set over you in your cottage.  And I’ll come when I can.  I swear it.”

She pulled him to a stop and when he turned to her, she said, “Do.  Do come to me when you can, Peyton.  Because I probably won’t be able to come to you.”  She looked down while she made sure she could speak without her voice cracking and then faced him again.  “I will miss you, Peyton.  And I’ll always be praying for you.”

“And I for you.”

             
                                        
 
SSSS

Two nights later, Peyton showed up more than an hour early to pick her up from cooking in the tavern and he came into the kitchen and started right in helping her to wash the dishes.  She could tell something was wrong, but Mrs. Bealle was in and out and she couldn’t question what was on his mind until they were walking hand in hand back down the path to their homes.  Actually, once they were walking, she didn’t ask, knowing he would tell her when he was ready.  When he finally did, it knocked her whole world out of kilter.

He pulled her to a stop in the darkest part of the trees between their homes, taking hold of both of her hands and she could almost feel his despair before he even said anything.  For a second they just stood silently, hand in hand, while she waited, but then he dropped her hands and hugged her so tightly she nearly couldn’t catch her breath.  Against her hair, he whispered, “I’m leaving at first light in the morning.”

Then she truly couldn’t catch her breath.  First light!  The despair she’d been able to feel from him threatened to freeze her solid in her tracks and she had to actively concentrate on breathing in and then breathing out.  Tomorrow.  How in the world could she tell him goodbye so soon?  And for how long? 

Finally, she pulled her thoughts together and realized the last thing he needed right now was for her to go completely to pieces on him at this news.  He already had the pressure of packing and going to a strange place to face new experiences.  Of leaving family and friends and home.  Right now, what he needed from her was to help him forget the sad parts of this and to look forward to the adventure part of it with excitement and hope. 

Literally willing her voice to obey her mind, she said, “So soon?  Mordecai got back tonight?”  He nodded and she went on, “This is quite sudden, Pey, but maybe that’s a good thing.  It won’t give us time to get upset about you going.  Do you know where you’re to be yet?”

“A knight encampment near the castle in Valais.  I’m to be working with Sir Kendall Bosken.  Mordecai says he’s a powerful knight and an honorable man and that I can learn a great deal from him and advance quickly.  Mordecai trained him himself almost twenty years ago.”

She pushed her feelings aside, laid both hands on his chest, summoned all the excitement she could find and said, “How excellent for you, Sir Peyton!  One trained by Mordecai himself!  I think I’ve heard the men in the tavern speak of this Sir Kendall.  He’s reputed to be a brilliant soldier.  One of the King’s First Guard.  Surely this will mean you’ll be among great men and have many opportunities to help King Dougal.  I’m thrilled for you! ‘Tis better even than we hoped, is it not?”

“Indeed.  Except for leaving you tomorrow.  I thought I’d have more time with you.”

For a second, her enthusiasm wilted and she nodded.  “Yes.  I can’t even think on it yet, so let’s don’t.  Let’s be happy for you. ‘Tis such an honor and a rare opportunity!  Let’s remember that always.  What does your grandmother say?  Will she be completely disgusted?”

“Strangely, no.  She must have finally come to terms with the fact that my father should have gone when he had the chance, because all she did was hug me and cry and tell me she was proud of me.”

“Which is exactly as it should be.  And just what I’m going to do.  And your mother and my mother and probably near forty other girls in the village.  I can quite imagine it.”

“Don’t let’s talk about others or leaving.  We have such a short time.  Let us enjoy it.”

“Keep walking as we’re enjoying our time.  My mother is going to begin worrying if I don’t return soon.  She’s going to miss you nearly as much as your own mother will.”

“I’ve asked Tristan and Father to watch over the two of you in my stead.  They’ll do all the things for you and your mother I won’t be able to for a time.”

There were some things Tristan and Willem couldn’t do, like fill the gaping hole that had just been ripped in Chantaya’s life, but she knew she couldn’t say that.  Instead, she asked, “What do you need me to do to help you get ready?”

He shook his head.  “Not a thing except to be with me.  Let us tell your mother you’ve returned home safely, and that I’m leaving in the morning, and then, would you stay on the porch and talk to me?  I know it’s late, but I can’t leave you yet.”

‘Twas everything Chantaya could do to paste on the merest semblance of a smile as she came into the cottage, greeted her mother and explained about Peyton’s leaving.  Her mother must have understood how she was struggling to stay cheerful, because her mother had the same false smile as she exclaimed over his good fortune and abrupt departure, hugged Peyton goodbye and then discreetly went into the other room to go to bed. 

Instead of going back out to the porch, they pulled the big bench from near the entry close to the fire and the two of them piled onto it.  Peyton leaned back into the corner of it and gathered Chantaya against his chest and they sat staring into the flames and then into each other’s eyes, wondering how to even start to say goodbye to each other.  It had been almost twelve years that they had been together everyday and even though they both truly felt it was for the best, it still felt overwhelming.  It might have been a trifle easier if they’d both known how long it would be before they would see each other again.

They spoke of everyday things at first and then of hopes and dreams and fears and aspirations and all manner of things that young people in love speak of, and although they were both exhausted, neither was willing to call an end to this last chance to be together.   When she finally did break down and openly cry about how far away he’d be, Peyton reminded her that they could write to each other and it was a lifeline they both latched onto and clutched to their hearts.  It may take weeks to get messages back and forth, but at least they would be able to try to contact one another when they were apart. 

‘Twas
deep in the night before Peyton finally brought up leaving.  ‘Twas even later still when he sighed and helped her up from the bench in the near darkness before the last coals of the fire.  On rising, he pulled her into a close, gentle hug.  This was it and they both knew it.  There would be a final goodbye at dawn when he and Mordecai rode away, but tonight was their last time of any import. 

The hug lasted and lasted and they held on tighter until at length, he gave a low sound that was almost a groan and Chantaya looked up into his tired face and gave him an exhausted, sad smile.  Without hesitation, she stood on tip toe and gently kissed him, wiped at the single tear that overflowed her eyes and then reached to kiss him again.  This time, as she did, he gathered her to him almost too tightly and kissed her with all the emotion they’d been trying to channel during the whole of this evening. 
‘Twas a kiss of friendship and devotion and need, and even of fear and desperation and heartache.  All of it concentrated in this first true kiss of passion and when he finally pulled away with a soft sigh, neither of them wanted it to end yet.    

Another single tear escaped her eyes and he closed his own eyes and ran a hand raggedly through his hair and then took her hand and led her to the cottage door.  There, she stood before him with her head bowed and wondered if it would be any easier if he just didn’t leave until that last minute at first light, or even if this should be their final goodbye.  She didn’t think she could actually do this, now that it was right down to it.

He gently lifted her chin with a calloused hand and looked at her as if he was trying to memorize every small detail of her face and then smiled a hint of a smile, kissed her temple just where a tendril of hair caressed it and quietly stepped out the door into the night.  She watched him disappear into the dark, looked up at the moon that would indeed rise over both of them, even apart as they’d be and then slowly closed the heavy wooden door, shot the bolt and tried to cry silently as she banked the fire and climbed the loft ladder to bed.  She hadn’t realized just what this separation was going to feel like.  In truth, she may have tried to change his mind if she had.  Dropping to her knees, she began to pray through her tears.  God was going to have to help her get through this.  That was the only way.

                                                      
 
SSSS

Appearing through the heavy mist of morning on the charger that breathed plumes of steam out with every breath, Peyton looked like a warrior.  Mordecai rode beside him on Bartok and both horses seemed to sense the import of this day and pranced along, heads held high and tails flowing out behind them as they materialized out of the blackness of the forest.  Chantaya had been sitting on the porch step, waiting, struggling not to let the emotions of this morning overwhelm her and as the two soldiers approached, she prayed one more time to be able to tell him goodbye without dissolving into tears.  He needed this from her.  He deserved this from her.  Always, she had been able to lean on him.  This morning, she would be strong enough that he could lean on her for once.

He pulled up in front of her and dismounted, tossing Mordecai his reins and Isabella opened the door at the sounds of the approaching riders to come out onto the small porch as well.  Chantaya stood and Isabella put her arm
round Chantaya’s waist and gave her a squeeze as Peyton came forward.  He leaned to give Isabella a short hug first, and then moved to Chantaya.  For a long moment, he simply looked into her eyes and then seemed to swallow her up in his arms.  She focused on how good it felt and storing that away in her memory and not on the fact that he was riding away from her for who knew how long.

She didn’t cry, although tears blurred her vision, and she was able to smile up at him when, at length, he finally let her go enough to look back down at her.  He tried to smile as well and it helped when he reached and pulled at a rebellious tendril curl that hung at her the side of her face.  It sprung back when he released it and Chantaya shook her head and r
olled her tear bright eyes.  He chuckled and leaned to kiss her temple and said, “I love you, Chani.  Goodbye.” 

To Isabella, he said, “Pray don’t let her do anything that might end her life before I return to watch over her again, will you?  For I would miss her so.”

Isabella smiled through her own tears and answered, “I will do my best, Sir Peyton Wolfgar.  And take care for yourself.  God bless you son.”

He
climbed back on his horse.  The two men turned to go and Chantaya felt she would explode from the pressure of holding her tears back until just before they entered the woods again, Peyton turned back and gave her one long, last look.  When he was finally gone, she let out a deep, sad breath as she turned into her mother’s embrace and let the tears come as she whispered, “God bless and keep you, Sir Peyton.”

Chapter
7

For a time, Peyton didn’t have a chance to miss Chantaya.  After the first afternoon of entering the knight encampment, he was nearly overwhelmed with learning both new protocols and new names and faces.  He met the king himself the very first day and was quite surprised when the monarch literally wrapped his arms
round Sir Mordecai after first accepting his humble bow before him.  The fact that King Dougal loved and respected Sir Mordecai couldn’t have been more apparent.

The king had then turned back to Peyton who bowed himself as Mordecai had instructed.  The king gripped Peyton’s hand on standing and looked him in the eye as he said, “I have heard good things about you, young Peyton Wolfgar.  Sir Mordecai has great faith in you, and I absolutely trust his judgment.  Thank you for your willingness to serve. ‘Tis need this kingdom has for honorable men who are willing to defend our freedoms.  Welcome to Valais and I look forward to watching you come of age with us.  God bless you son.”

Peyton only nodded, unsure of what one said to the king and astounded to be so welcomed by one so powerful.  Somehow, he’d expected the king to be more haughty and less personable to a mere peasant boy.

Meeting the king was actually less intimidating than meeting the other knights and squires.  Some of them welcomed him with open friendship, but others showed a reserve that ranged from mild coolness toward him to almost hostility, even though all were respectful of Mordecai.  It wasn’t hard to understand.  Some of these young men had been working their way up to where Peyton was for most of their lives and none of them had any idea of the amount of time he had put in under Mordecai’s tutelage before coming here.  To some of them, he was an interloper who hadn’t paid his dues.

He and Mordecai met each other’s eyes after a particularly cool introduction and Peyton knew that Mordecai wanted him to simply prove his worthiness and value to them with his actions; something Peyton had known would be necessary long before arriving here in the first place.  And true to his nature, Peyton simply stepped into his new role of squire with the same quiet confidence and work ethic he employed in every other aspect of his life.  It wasn’t in him to shirk or hesitate.  It never had been.  It never would be.

Meeting Sir Kendall Bosken was actually more of an event for Peyton than even meeting the king had been.  Peyton hadn’t realized he would be meeting the king when his entourage had shown up in the knight encampment the afternoon of their arrival, but he had been looking forward to meeting Sir Kendall from the moment Mordecai had first spoken of him upon his return from Valais.  Sir Kendall was tall and almost slender under his tunic with salt and pepper graying hair and calm blue gray eyes that quietly appraised
Peyton before crinkling at their outer edges as he smiled at him.

He extended a hand and said, “Ah, Peyton Wolfgar. ‘Tis good to meet you.  Especially as Mordecai assures me he’s already knocked some of the rough edges off of you.  It’ll be pleasing to be able to finish the job instead of starting with a green youngster for a time.  The older I get, the more I appreciate tranquility in my life.  These truly young bloods have a lack of that at times.  Welcome to Valais.”

Again, Peyton answered minimally, “Thank you, sir.  I am honored to be here.  I hope indeed that I’m not wholly rough.”

Sir Kendall had simply laughed quietly as he joyfully embraced Mordecai, the man who had trained him in his own youth and answered, “If you have been
round Sir Mordecai for long at all, I am sure you can’t be too rough.  Sir Mordecai is the best of the best.  You are unduly blessed to be in association with him, as was I at your age.  There is none finer to have at your back or your side.”  To Mordecai he said, “Are you well, old man?  You yet look fit to take us all.   Pray tell me you intend to join us again in battle if need be.  At the very least, say you’ll resume membership in the Great Council.  Your judgment is sorely missed there since your leaving.”

Mordecai only shook his head and chuckled.  “I am an old man, Sir Kendall.  My hands are gnarled and my mind addled. ‘Tis time for others to keep the reins.”

They quit the embrace, but Kendall kept an arm about the older man.  “You are no more addled than the youngest of us.  If only the others all had your judgment and vision, man.  This kingdom would be in better shape.  There are those now who would seek for power instead of for justice.”

Mordecai nodded.  “’Tis why I have brought you Peyton, Sir Kendall.  More like him would put things back to rights.  He is wise beyond his years and will indeed be at your back.  You will thank me before this kingdom is settled once again.  Just get him settled into this life with an urgency.  There is trouble brewing.  I can feel it in my old bones.”

They went on to speak of what the kingdom of Monciere was in need of and Peyton listened well to their talk of strategy and political strength.  He had no doubts he could hold his own on a battlefield, in spite of his youth.  ‘Twas the wisdom of handling people and powers he needed to work on.  That and figuring out how things worked here in the city and the knight encampment and near the castle.  Those were issues he had no knowledge of.

In some things, being ignorant of the knight’s ways was a huge hurdle, but in some, it was fortuitous.  Mordecai left him on the morning of the fourth day, and on that same day, he was competing at the joust with other squires in training, when he was pitted against another called Laird on a magnificent dappled gray charger.  As Peyton rode out to take his place in the arena, he noted there was a strange quiet to the others and for just a moment, he wondered about it, but soon had to focus on the joust before him and his horse so excited for the competition it was half rearing in nervous anticipation.

As the flag was dropped, he spurred his horse forward and blocked from his mind all but the opponent as he hit this Laird’s lance and shattered it.  He had been trying to unseat the other young man and was slightly disappointed and then had to wonder why the others who were watching weren’t cheering for one or the other competitors as they usually did.

The horses circled around and Laird stopped to get another lance.  Peyton sat his mount at the far end of the arena and waited again for the flag to drop.  As it descended, he leaped his mount forward, and this time was gratified to find he successfully unhorsed Laird who tumbled off the back of the great charger and landed unceremoniously on his backside in the arena dirt.  Peyton nodded to himself in satisfaction and then galloped around to catch Laird’s loose horse.  That was more like it.  Laird had been the only other squire Peyton hadn’t unseated in the first attempt.  The second round wasn’t as satisfactory, but at least he’d been unhorsed.

As Peyton led the other horse back to its rider, he was surprised to be confronted by he who handled the flag that started the competition.  As Peyton went to ride past him, the man strode into the arena and Peyton pulled up, wondering why this man who had seemed even tempered these last days, was now scowling at Peyton’s approach.  He glared up at Peyton and all but hissed, “’Tis the prince, you idiot!  Hast thou no sense of honor?  Let him win, thou fool!”

The flag bearer stalked back to his platform and Peyton furrowed his brow in trying to figure out just what the man had meant and what he was to do now.  The prince.  Why had no one warned him he was going against the prince?  He should have realized it.  Laird wasn’t that common a name.  But, was it not honorable to truly compete?  To Peyton, that was exactly backwards.  Falsely handicapping himself was what seemed less than honorable.  Had he been the prince, he’d have been offended to be considered ineffective without handicapping the others.   Yet, apparently, that wasn’t the case here.

Peyton turned again to go back up the arena to take the gray horse to the unseated prince.  As he approached, he pushed his helmet shield up and Prince Laird did the same.  Peyton eyed him for a moment, trying to read his temperament, but upon being still unsure, he said, “Forgive me, Your Highness.  I knew not you were the prince.  The flag bearer has just now called me a fool for not knowing and letting you win.  Forgive me if I’ve broken protocol.  I’m new here and know not all the rules.”

The prince only grinned and shook his head.  “If ‘tis the rule, it shouldn’t be.  It’s thoroughly deflating.  Is not the goal to learn to be the best for battle?  As one training for victory, I prefer honest competition.  And for once, it was refreshing to have someone truly try their best.  You’re the first ever to not let me win.  I feel fair flattered.”

He mounted his horse and then reached across to shake Peyton’s hand as Peyton grinned back and asked, “Well, Your Highness, you were the only one I couldn’t unseat the first try.  Tell me, does your backside feel flattered as well, then?  And what does a newcomer do in the third attempt?  Now that I realize who you are and also what you prefer.”                            

The prince chuckled.  “Who do you fear more?  The prince or the flag bearer?”

Still grinning, Peyton said, “Even a new comer knows my answer should be you, but in truth, he appears far more irritable.”

The prince shook his head.  “Fear the prince.  I’ll handle the flag bearer.”

Peyton nodded.  “As you wish, Sire.  Have you enough padding for your backside?”

The prince laughed right out.  “Have you enough for yours?  And is your helmet large enough to fit that ego inside?”

Peyton snapped his shield down and spoke muffled, “It seems to fit just fine.  Good luck, Your Highness.”  The prince only laughed again as he snapped his own shield down and turned to gallop up the field.

Even after their conversation, Peyton wondered what he was to do, but then decided that if he were prince, he’d respect true effort.  With that thought in mind, he waited for the flag to drop and then charged up the field and knocked the prince smartly off the back of his horse again and then went to collect the loose gray charger.  Bringing the horse back around, he wished for the wisdom of Mordecai for a moment as the flag bearer stomped out onto the field.  Peyton respectfully walked the horses over to him and humbly bowed his head as the man fair gave him a tongue lashing and then Peyton continued on to where the prince stood in the dirt of the arena. 

Again, Peyton pushed up his helmet shield as he approached and the prince did the same, grinned and then dramatically rubbed where he’d landed and began to limp to accept the horse.  Peyton laughed at him and then said, “I thought you said you’d handle the flag bearer.”

“Yes.  But that 'twas before you doubled up your striking force.  In truth, I didn’t have near enough padding for that blasting.” 

Peyton grinned.  “Pray, forgive me.  Next time, I’ll let you win.”

“Now you’re adding insult to bruising.  What did he say to you?” 

“Only that I’m no longer to be a soldier, but a potato peeler for the rest of my days on earth.”

The prince chuckled, shook his head and groaned as he climbed back onto his charger.  “Don’t worry.  I’ll see to it you stay on.  We definitely need that kind of skill in battle.  Who are you and where did you come from?”

Peyton bowed as well as he could from on his own horse.  “Peyton Wolfgar, at your service Your Highness.”

“And where did you come from young Wolfgar?  I’ve not seen you and limped to tell of it before.”

“Of Navarre.  I came to train with Sir Kendall at the request of Sir Mordecai.”

Nodding, the prince said thoughtfully, “You are he then.  The one Sir Mordecai told us about.  He said you were good.  He was right.  Painfully so.”

“My deepest apologies, Sire.”

“No.  Even bruised, I still prefer an honest contest.  You’re from Lord Rosskeene’s lands then?  Have you a moment that we might speak?”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

“Good.  Come then my valiant friend.  Let us talk where your flag bearer may see us.  Maybe then he’ll ease your peeling sentence to leave you at least a few good years to fight for the king.”

The two rode out of the arena side by side as Peyton said, “I pray it is so, Sire.”

The prince laughed again.  “I’m certain you do.  But only because you haven’t seen the kitchen maids yet.  There’s a sassy red head there who makes even a prince wish to spend time peeling potatoes.  Do you prefer red heads, Peyton?”

“In truth, no Sire.  Forgive me.”

“Blondes then?”

“I’m sorry to disappoint, Prince Laird, but no, even with all manner of blondes, I will still dislike potato peeling.”

“I see.  Is it brunettes then?  Would that make you want to keep to the kitchen?”

“Only if it was a certain one, Your Highness.  Otherwise, I’d much prefer to be here, knocking the royalty from the backs of their steeds.  Readying to defend them in battle.”

The prince chuckled again and asked, “The brunettes or the royalty?”

“Both Sire.  I stand at the ready.”

“Yes, I can see that.  Has Kendall said how long before he’ll ask to have you knighted?”

“I know not.”

Rubbing his thigh, the prince pulled his horse up a distance away from the others present and said drily, “I can’t imagine ‘twill be long if you can do all manner of things the way you joust.  Tell me, Wolfgar, is the younger Lord Rosskeene as belligerent as he seems to be?”