Medieval 03 - Enchanted

against the coming night. A cart
whose axle needed grease groaned from the lane. Shouts from
Blackthorne’s battlements rose above the complaining of the
axle.
    Ariane cocked her head, listening intently. A
fickle wind first chased away and then brought the sentry’s
words to her. Geoffrey’s presence had been discovered, which
meant he had no choice but to ride openly up to the gate.
    She was safe. Geoffrey was too clever to maul her
in public, and she would be quite careful not to get caught alone
by him.
    With a sigh of relief, Ariane stood up and pulled
her mantle tightly around her. Bracken, fallen leaves, twigs, and
bits of less identifiable matter clung to the bottom of the mantle.
She flapped the edges impatiently, sending debris swirling. Holding
the mantle more tightly about her body, she set off for the
keep.

24
    S ensing someone coming up behind him,
Simon looked away from the strange knight who was riding up to the
drawbridge. Sven’s broad-boned face and pale, assessing eyes
emerged from the shadows of the gatehouse.
    “I heard of a strange knight,” Sven
said.
    “Aye. The sentry spotted him riding out of
the river woodlot.”
    Silently the two men stood and waited for a better
view of the knight through the open sally port. As Simon waited, he
absently rubbed the chin of Autumn, the huge tricolored cat who was
draped, purring, around Simon’s neck. The cat’s sleek
body was a mosaic of large patches of white, orange and black
fur.
    The knight approached the keep at a smart trot. He
was riding a war-horse and was fully armed, though without
attendants. A ragged pennant flew from his lance. His shield, too
was battered and darkened by hard use.
    Autumn lifted his head and watched the knight
approach with unblinking orange eyes. Simon’s own eyes
narrowed as his instincts stirred, whispering of danger.
    “Could this be one of Baron Deguerre’s
knights, come to tell us of his lord’s visit?” Simon
asked.
    “I have heard of no knight this large, save
the rogue who outwitted you and Duncan by riding into the
Silverfells clan lands.”
    Simon grunted. “This one is big enough, but
he wears colors of a sort on his shield and pennant.”
    The cross on the shield was blurred and crudely
rendered, but still there for all to see.
    “Aye,” Sven said.
    The knight turned onto the cart road that went
directly to Blackthorne’s moat. Though the bridge was
lowered, the gate into the bailey was closed. Only the sally port
was open, and it was too small for any but a man on foot.
    “’Tis Deguerre’s sign,”
Simon said.
    “Aye. A thin white cross on a black
field.”
    Simon looked over his shoulder into the bailey.
Autumn’s fur stroked his cheek. Simon stroked the cat in
return. The animal’s muscular purring rumbled against
Simon’s throat.
    Though an unusual number of the keep’s people
had found an excuse to be in the bailey so as to see the strange
knight, Simon didn’t find Ariane among those eagerly looking
toward the bridge. Simon glanced up to the top of the keep. The
shutters over Ariane’s windows were barely ajar.
    Sven followed Simon’s glance.
    “Your wife is collecting herbs,” Sven
said.
    Simon’s head swung back to the lithe
descendant of Vikings who was Dominic’s most trusted knight
save Simon himself.
    “Are you certain?” Simon asked.
    “Aye. Harry mentioned it to me.”
    “Odd,” Simon muttered. “Ariane
has shown no particular interest in herbs before this
time.”
    One of Simon’s hands lifted and resumed
stroking Autumn. Claws appeared and retracted with rhythmic
ecstasy, though the cat’s eyes never left off watching the
approaching knight.
    “’Tis why Harry mentioned her
leaving,” Sven said. “He said she seemed quite
strained.”
    Simon didn’t respond.
    “But not unduly so, considering what passed
in the armory,” Sven said under his breath.
    Simon gave Sven a glittering glance. Dominic had
demanded that only Sven be told the truth about Ariane’s
missing maidenhead and dowry, but Simon knew that few secrets were
kept for very long in the intimacy of a keep.
    Not that it would be Sven who gave away the game.
Whatever secrets Sven held—and they were many—none
showed on his face. But then, few things ever did. It was part of
what made Sven so valuable to the Glendruid Wolf.
    With the cat’s low purring vibrating against
his neck, Simon went back to observing the strange knight through
the open sally port. He was close enough now to