Eight
Dristan sat at the high table, observing not only his men but also the MacLaren clansmen as they finished breaking their fast. Their bellies full, they sat next to each other within the Great Hall, content and lazy although still wary of one another. ’Twas time he took his new men into the lists and showed them a true master with the sword and shield. Mayhap they would learn a thing or two that would serve them well in future times of battle.
His brow furrowed into a frown as he watched Sabina make her way amongst the men. When she looked up to the high table where he sat and noticed his gaze upon her, she cast a seductive smile his way and began striding in his direction. ’Twas more of a stalk, he fumed, uninterested in the proposal her look suggested.
She finally came to stand behind him and a cold chill ran up his spine as she began caressing the back of his neck beneath his hair. She leaned over him to whisper into his ear. If not for his armor he was certain he would have felt her breasts against his back.
“Did the meal please you, my lord?” she said huskily.
“Aye,” he declared briskly, shrugging off her advances and rising from the table.
“Perchance there is aught else that I may do to satisfy thee?” She came to stand afore him, almost begging him to take her.
“Nay! See to the keep. ’Twill be enough!” His tone was sharp and anyone with matter between their ears would have concluded the issue was at an end. Such was not the case with the girl afore him as he removed her hand from his breastplate.
“Mayhap, another time then,” she murmured, keeping an open invitation in her voice.
“I think not,” he exclaimed, dismissing her from his mind and thus did not see her look of disappointment and anger. “Patrick...get thee to the stables and see to Thor’s needs this morn. You men,” he called, “to the lists in full armor . . . we train this day!”
Dristan heard his men groan at what they knew would be a most strenuous day of training.
Only one dared voice his thoughts, since he had traveled with Dristan for many a year. “Should we not wait ’til the rain ceases, my lord?” Drake called from his comfortable spot by the roaring fire, obviously hoping Dristan would change his mind.
“War does not wait for the weather, nor shall we. For your cheek, you shall go first this morn, Sir Drake. Now everyone move, else I must think you wish to train long into the mid-night hour!” he yelled, and watched the chaos ensue when they all scrambled out of their chairs to do his bidding. They made for the door swiftly as if their feet were aflame, much to Dristan’s amusement.
Satisfied with their haste to be about their training, Dristan thought perchance this was a sure sign of hope for the new guardsmen after all. He noticed one lone knight sitting at one of the lower tables. As the man at last rose from his now finished meal, Dristan scowled at his blatant disobedience.
Ian hesitantly made his way towards Dristan, giving a slight bow.
Dristan scowled that the man had the nerve to still be within the keep walls.
“My lord,” Ian began, “a moment of your time, if I may?”
“We have business outside. Do you think ’tis beneath you to train with your lord and his men? Mayhap, you feel there is naught I may teach you for those who you will protect?”
“Nay my liege . . . I would not presume such.”
“So . . . as captain of Aiden’s guard, what do you wish to have speech about that cannot wait?” Dristan said, already irritated to be delayed.
“I have but overheard your plan to make Aiden your squire,” Ian began cautiously. “Is this true?”
“You dare to now question my motives regarding the boy?” Dristan could not believe the gall of the man afore him. “You do indeed presume too much, sir.”
“Your pardon, my lord. ’Twas not my intent,” Ian spoke in exasperation. “I have guarded the twins for so long ’tis become a habit of mine, along with concern for their welfare.”
“They are no longer yours to worry about, as they are now my wards and my responsibility. ’Twill be I to decide who will be part of their guard when I know those who will protect them are capable of the task,” Dristan said sternly. He could see the man had more on his mind than just Dristan acquiring Aiden as a squire. “I can see by your expression you have more to say, regarding this pair of siblings. Come . . . speak your mind, Ian, since I can tell of your sincerity as to their safety.”
Ian ran a hand through his hair afore he chose his words. “All I ask, my lord, is you take into consideration that, for the most part, the pair are innocent children and have been greatly spoiled by their sire. They have been sheltered from the evils of this world and truly only know of this keep and their way of life. The girl, Amiria, had her father wrapped around her finger and could do no wrong in his eyes. Laird MacLaren cherished the twins above the others, although he loved all his children as best he could. I ask that you have patience, my Lord Dristan, when dealing with them.”
Dristan looked upon Aiden’s captain and saw the truth in his words reflected in his eyes. “You have given me much to think on, Ian, and I have heard your concern. I am, however, disappointed young Aiden chose not to heed my words and join the company for meals.”
“I am sure he will just need some time to readjust to your ways, my liege.”
Dristan pondered that for but a moment and nodded his head. “We shall see. In the meantime, word will be sent up for Aiden to join us in the lists to begin his training, although I am sure he will regret not being allowed to break his fast when his belly begins to growl in protest,” he said. “But come . . . let us be about the field and see what you are made of. Mayhap you could show me how to wield that claymore strapped upon your back. ’Tis a most fearsome weapon of choice you Scots prefer.”
“As you will, my lord,” Ian returned, with a bow.
Dristan gave a slight chuckle and a hard slap upon Ian’s back that would have felled a less powerfully built man. He could tell Ian was taken off guard by his lord’s unexpected moment of merriment. Dristan wondered what the day would yet come to hold as they made their way out into the rain drenched lists.
Whereas the garrison hall had but moments afore been filled with knights, it took but a few words from Riorden to clear the hall of all the men who had been lounging about in the slightly smoky room. Apparently, the guards did not want to be the last ones to get themselves to the lists and feel the wrath of the Devil’s Dragon.
There was another besides the serfs, however, who lingered within the garrison hall, although ’twas most unusual to find a woman within its walls. Near the hearth where the light was better, Kenna rose and stretched as she looked down upon the man, who now rested upon a pallet that had been provided for him. He would never have made it up the stairs to the upper floors on his own.
It feels good to at last stand, she thought to herself, after having been bent over for what had seemed like hours. It had been a long process of removing the caked on dressing and applying new ones to Hugh’s ravaged back. The man had awoken during the cleansing of his wounds and had screamed as if the flames from hell were scorching his flesh. Given the state of the man’s hide, perchance that assumption was not too far from the truth.
Taking her satchel of herbs and ointments from the serf who was left to attend Hugh, she bent down one last time and felt the man’s forehead. ’Twas only slightly warm, so for the moment no fever yet raged within his body.
“Watch over him closely and fetch me if you notice he begins to have a fever or take a chill,” she ordered the servant, and confirmed his consent before leaving the knights’ hall.
Kenna wrapped her cloak about her head to keep off the rain as best she could. ’Twas a difficult task as the water seemingly came down in great sheets. Despite the downpour, she heard undeterred men already about their training. Change was in the air for those who dwelled here, she reflected to herself. Only time would tell how all would cope with its coming.
Under the cover of her garment, she watched Lord Dristan and Ian emerge from the keep and noticed their ease in conversation as they made their way to join the other men in the lists. She smiled to herself with the knowledge that after much turmoil these two would someday become close friends. They would have a rough road ahead of them, however, to get to that point, if they but survived the journey.
Kenna was so deeply into her thoughts, she was inattentive to where she put her feet as she tried to make her way to her hut, residing inside the inner bailey. She stumbled and fell into mud, watched in dismay as her satchel spilled about her, and some of her precious herbs landed in murky puddles of water. She tried to rise to her feet only to find that her cloak had become entangled in her legs, causing her to once more fall to the ground with a mighty splash.
Distracted by the wetness beginning to chill her to the bone, she did not hear the distinct sound of armor as it clanked in time to someone rushing to her side. ’Twas not ’til a hand appeared through the tresses of her drenched black hair, offering assistance, that she knew her life was about to take a different direction than the one she had planned.
“Let me help you, Mistress Kenna,” the voice reached her ears in a soothing caress.
She took the proffered limb and felt a shiver go through her entire body as she rose. She swayed unknowingly into the knights arms as her eyes closed and a vision flashed afore her. She had not even as yet glimpsed the man’s face and yet she could plainly see the two of them together like a memory playing in her mind as they were laughing, walking along the strand, and sharing an intimate moment she had never dared afore with another. Just as quickly as this vision came to her, another darker one followed closely, and her eyes opened quickly, searching the man’s face. She smiled at him and although he had not offered it to her, she knew his name.
“My thanks, Sir Geoffrey,” she whispered in awe, whilst staring into his dark green eyes.
He looked at her in puzzlement but also delight, whilst he held her in his arms. “Are you hurt, mistress?” Geoffrey inquired courteously.
“I am much better than it appears my herbs are, to be sure,” she answered, with a light laugh.
“I fear they cannot be salvaged, but I am more concerned with your welfare,” he said kindly, picking up her sack and handing it to her. “May I escort you somewhere to see you safe?”
Kenna dared much, as she patted his arm with familiarity. “I have traveled this path many a time, Sir Knight, and done so without fear for my person. ’Tis sure I am that you have more important things to do than to see the keep’s healer to her humble hut.”
“Nothing would give me more pleasure than to see you safely home.”
Kenna smiled at his simple request, as the ending of her vision but moments ago briefly flashed afore her eyes yet again. She grabbed his arm and spoke more sternly than she intended. “You must guard your master well, Sir Geoffrey, for ’tis his safety that I stand in fear of.”
“Have you not heard, the Devil’s Dragon of Blackmore is invincible,” he jested, “and, of course, so are his men?”
She let go of his arm, not amused by his cavalier jest of her beliefs and hurt that he made fun of her.
“Do not make light of my words, Sir Geoffrey, as you know not of what I have seen.”
“I do not mean to cause you sorrow, my lady.”
Kenna gave an embarrassed smile at his words. “I fear, Sir Knight, that I am no lady of a Great Hall, but just a lowly born woman trying to heal the hurts of her clan.”
“I fear you must humor me . . . my lady,” Geoffrey said honestly. “I can be most persuasive when I must needs be.”
Kenna was halted from replying by the shout of their liege across the yard.
“Geoffrey!” Dristan called, through the pelting rain. “Do you dare to dally this day at a woman’s side?”
“Nay, my lord!” he replied over his shoulder, and gave her a sheepish smile.
Kenna continued to stare at him most strangely, as her heart did a tiny flip when his eyes began to twinkle. As he lingered at her side, she quickly came to realize ’twas not an unpleasant feeling when it appeared he showed an interest in her.
“I must leave,” he said simply, although ’twas clear he did not wish to depart. He took her cool hand and kissed her fingertips.
A soft sigh escaped her lips.
“Duty to your liege calls,” Kenna replied warmly. “I beg thee please heed my words I have spoken this day, regarding our Lord Dristan.”
“I shall always guard my lord’s back Mistress Kenna-”
“Call me Kenna,” she all but whispered to him, offering him leave to use her given name.
“Kenna . . . ’tis a lovely name. I but wish . . . ”
“Geoffrey!” Dristan bellowed with more urgency, for apparently, he would tolerate no further dalliance with the fairer sex this day.
Kenna gave Geoffrey a small understanding smile, which he returned then bowed over her hand and reluctantly released her, before he hurried to join the men in their training. She turned and quickly made her way through the rain to her home. As she reached the doorway, she turned just once more to stare through the barbican gate, knowing her knight had but moments afore passed under its portcullis. For the second time that day, she pondered the thought about change in the air, and mayhap for her, ’twould be most welcoming. She opened the door to her dwelling and entered its warmth with a most endearing smile.