The Red Knight (21 page)

Alyda was ready for her bed hours before the watch bell rang midnight. When it chimed the twelfth hour, she sighed and poured herself another glass of water. The diehards would carouse into the small hours, particularly those who weren’t fighting on the morrow. She on the other hand, had a long day ahead and had completely run out of small talk and the stamina to be talked at. Unfortunately, she couldn’t escape. Protocol forbade her to leave before the Prince, and he and his friends showed no signs of retiring.

At least when he was pretending to be a knight she could go to bed when she pleased. As soon as she had the uncharitable thought she regretted it. He’d worked hard to fit in with the Company, walking a narrow path between being a prince and an ordinary knight. He’d done so well that she’d almost forgotten he was the heir to the throne. Tonight, when she saw him with a gold circlet on his brow, surrounded by adoring subjects, she remembered, and now she longed to be elsewhere, away from the laughter and the crowds, and most of all from him.

“The Captain looks bored, wouldn’t you say?” Talin asked Nevenna.

Alyda was with one of the local dignitaries. She was nodding in all the right places, but was obviously bored rigid. He empathised.

“Oh no, Highness. That’s the Captain’s thoughtful face; she’s having a wonderful time entertaining your Highness and our other guests.” The Lieutenant smiled.

He wasn’t convinced. Talin recognised from personal experience the practiced face of diplomatic politeness. He also noticed that Alyda kept stealing furtive glances towards the door.

“Oh, please don’t mistake me, Nev. Captain Stenna has been a most polite and attentive host, but I know just what a chore it can be, being pleasant to dozens of strangers who are all desperate to talk to you. It’s a particular torture if they also happened to be dull.” He laughed; the knight smiled awkwardly, unsure how to respond.

His humour had soured as the evening had worn on and what he’d meant to be a joke had come out sounding sharper than he’d intended. Before the feast he’d resolved to confess how he felt to Alyda. But the moment she’d laid eyes on him, her smile had vanished and she’d spent the rest of the night avoiding him, or being so coldly polite he could have yelled. He caught her eye and beckoned her over, she complied with little enthusiasm.

She saluted stiffly.
This is maddening
. He could smell her perfume, delicate and sweet—the distinct fragrance of Suvian lavender.

“Captain, I must thank you,” he gave a nod to Nevenna, “and your Company, for a most splendid evening.”

Alyda inclined her head. “I’m pleased you’ve enjoyed yourself, Highness.”

He wanted to take her away somewhere they could be alone, where he could speak honestly and openly, without a bloody audience. Looking at the press of people still waiting to meet him and bore him with their petty anecdotes, he knew that would be impossible. So be it. If he couldn’t play the part of suitor, he’d be the chivalrous knight and give Alyda the opportunity to escape.

Talin feigned a yawn. “As enjoyable as tonight has been, I fear I must retire.”

Her face brightened. “So soon, Highness?”

That hurt, but he stayed in character. “I’m afraid so, but I’ve had a wonderful evening.”

She bowed respectfully. “Goodnight, Highness.”

He saluted Company style. “Goodnight…” He almost said ‘Ali
’
but caught himself. “Captain Stenna.”

When the Prince and his entourage had gone, Alyda waited a polite length of time before excusing herself.

Hours later she lay in bed, watching the inky darkness lighten to gloomy grey. Muttering curses, she got up. Damn the man for invading her thoughts and stealing unbidden into her dreams.
And damn her stupid self for enjoying it.

Chapter Seven

A
cold wind whistled through the shutters but it was warm in the hay, lying between the two naked women…

Morning. Tourney. Jamie sat bolt upright, his heart hammering out of his chest. With a sickening jolt he remembered how one thing had led to another. What had seemed like a fine idea last night could have him thrown in the guardhouse today. He jumped up and began to search through the pile of discarding stockings, petticoats and gowns for
his
clothes. He shouldn’t have drunk the wine they’d found, he shouldn’t have brought them here. Sweet Asha! He should have thought with the big head, and not the small, but it was too late now. He heard a giggle and looked round to see both women were awake and grinning at him.

“Good morning, Jamie,” Bear yawned.

Jamie hid his modesty behind his shirt and backed towards the ladder.

She laughed, “Don’t you think it’s a bit late to come over all shy?”

“I, er… I have to go. I—” He tripped over the ladder, but managed to grab hold of it as he fell and slow his descent. He landed on his arse with a bump. Cursing, he scooped up his clothes just as the barn door was thrown open.

The Guthlanders didn’t wait to be invited; they strode in and began searching the stalls. Jamie struggled into his hose, and made to leave. A grey beard with a face like a badly patched quilt stepped in his way.

“Can I help you?” Jamie asked his heart sinking into the pit of his stomach.

“Depends on who you’ve been fucking up there.” The Guthlander thrust his chin in the direction of the loft where a light drizzle of hay was falling from between the boards. “Best hope it’s not who we’re looking for,
runt
,” Greybeard drawled, “or your little pig pizzle will be coming off, yes?” His two companions moved up either side of him, blocking the way out.

Jamie reached for his sword, and then remembered it was still up in the loft. He cast a glance around the barn. There were a couple of pitchforks leaning against one of the stalls, but he doubted he’d be able to reach them before the Guthlanders were on him.

“It’s none of your damn business what I’ve been doing or with whom,” he said with more confidence than he felt, “now get out of my way.”

Greybeard gave a throaty chuckle, and took a step towards him. Jamie stood his ground, weight on the balls of his feet. The hay rustled. He turned, praying that he wouldn’t see Bethanglyn. It was Bear; she was clutching his sword against her bare chest.

“I can assure you, he’s no runt.” She grinned and tossed the sword to Jamie.

The Guthlanders laughed. Greybeard said something in their guttural tongue and slapped him on the back before leaving. Jamie was stunned and set for a fight that hadn’t happened. Bear let out a filthy laugh.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“Apparently they think you must be stronger than you look.” A slender arm wrapped around Bear’s shoulder. “If only they knew the whole of it, eh?” She grinned and rolled back into the hay.

“Dear gods. I pray they never do,” Jamie muttered before charging off to find the Captain.

“Where have you been?” Alyda couldn’t wait to hear his explanation.

Jamie looked as tired as she felt. She shook her head at Polyn who was helping her on with her cloak. Polyn did the same; obviously enjoying seeing her senior squirm. Alyda looked him over. He was armed and armoured, ready for the junior’s competition but his surcoat was rumpled, his belt twisted, and he had straw in his hair. She should throw the book at him, and by the look on his face that’s what he expected.

“I overslept, Captain, too much wine. May I report to the parade ground? The squires’ melee is about to start.”

Alyda was caught somewhere between amused and annoyed. “You’ve got a brass neck, Squire Turlowe.”

“Yes, Captain. Sorry, Captain.”

“Don’t worry, Jamie; it’s nothing we can’t cure. You may not head over to the parade ground—you may head over to the stables and help muck out for the rest of the day.”

He snapped to attention and saluted, but she could see he was devastated.
As he should be.

“If you’re late tomorrow, you’ll be cleaning out the privies on your own—with a spoon.”

“Yes, Captain…shall I report here tomorrow, Captain, or to the stables?”

“Neither. Go straight to the parade ground and sign in for the melee. You’re too old to compete with the juniors, and I can think of no better punishment than letting you get a good beating at the hands of the senior knights. Dismissed, Squire Turlowe.”

When Bethanglyn walked in, Thorgulsen composed a bored expression. He didn’t want to look like he’d been waiting for her. Yawning, she poured herself a mug of ale. He resisted the urge to jump up and knock her across the tent.

She threw herself onto a couch, a lazy smile on her lips. “Aren’t you going to ask where I’ve been?”

He shook his head. “I know where you’ve been, cunt. You reek of sex.”

Her smile broadened. “What if I told you the spirits had commanded me to do it? To learn about our enemy, flesh to flesh, blood to blood?”

“I’d say you were a lying whore.” A cold breeze suddenly blew through the tent, knocking over candles and scattering papers. He reached for the knife in his belt. Beth smirked. As suddenly as it had come, the wind died.

“Don’t let jealousy make you stupid, Kasper. Powerful forces are at work here.”

Thorgulsen spat, it was only a breeze, but it didn’t hurt to find out what the mad bitch had been up to. “And what do your spirits say we should do about these
powerful forces?
”

“They say if you want to die in your bed, surrounded by your grandchildren, you should kill the Red Knight tomorrow. Don’t worry, I’ll point him out. Pay heed, Kasper. I may be a mad bitch, but the spirits never lie.”

On the second day of the tournament, the sky was quilted with layers of fat grey clouds, but the threat of rain hadn’t deterred the crowds. If anything, there were more people there than there had been yesterday. It still irked Talin that he wasn’t going to compete in the grand melee, but he could cheer Bear on, if she managed to get ready in time. His friend was crashing about her tent searching for something while her pages ducked around her, trying to fasten her armour.

“Damn, but this armour has shrunk since I wore it last,” she grumbled. “I need some new harness; the varlet who made this was second rate in skill, but a grand-master when it came to charging for his work.”

“Don’t blame the armourer, blame over-indulgence.”

Bear snorted. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

Talin laughed while the pages valiantly tried to make both halves of her cuirass meet. After much pulling and tugging, Bear shooed them away and took a deep breath before gesturing impatiently for them to try again. This time when they pulled the back and breast plates together, the two halves met with ease.

“There, a perfect fit—if I don’t breath. So how much gold have you bet on me to win, and do I get a cut?” She asked, testing her range of movement with a few twists and lunges.

“Alas, dear friend, I haven’t made any wagers.” He raised his hands to silence her protest. “I must remain impartial. I assure you if I was able to bet, you would certainly be my choice…for second.”

Bear planted her fists on her hips and glared at him. “You are joking?”

Talin wasn’t sure if she was being seriously angry or playfully angry. Either might result in something being thrown at him, and he got ready to duck. “It has been a while since you competed. I think that Guthani Thane might get the better of you, unless you cheat.”

Bear snorted. “The one with the stupidly large axe and stunningly beautiful wife? You know what they say about those who wield oversized weapons.”

“They’re really strong?”

“They have small genitalia. Although, there must be something about him to have a wife like Beth. Now she’s a woman worth risking my neck for, even if she is a heathen witch—or possibly because of it.”

“I suppose she’s fair enough, if you like that kind of thing.”

“You only
suppose
she’s fair? Why, her beauty would make the Fey jealous. Oh, I forgot.” Bear gestured for the pages to leave and sat down beside him. “How is wooing Lady Ali progressing? Spare no details, I’m like a priestess. You can, nay,
must
tell me everything.”

Whenever Talin thought about Alyda, his stomach sank. “There’s nothing to tell.” He got up and paced the tent. “Captain Stenna isn’t the kind of woman to be wooed, not even by a prince.”

Bear shook her head. She did a passable impersonation of someone who cared, but he could see in her eyes there was no real sympathy or understanding. He wasn’t angry, he wasn’t even surprised; she’d always been the same, although the Pel made it worse. The damn stuff blunted the feelings of even occasional users, and Bear lived on it.

She got up and flexed her shoulders. For all her complaining the fine blued armour fit her perfectly. “I’m sorry to hear that, but I’ve seen the way she looks at you, I’ve
smelled
her excitement when you’re near. No-one can hide that, believe me.” She gave him a wicked grin. “I think there’s conflict between the Lady’s desire and the Captain’s duty; one that a determined suitor might force if he’d a mind to.”