Eliza Knight - The Rules of Chivalry (14 page)

“Out with it,” he demanded.

“We overheard what Kent said, and we’d like to help prepare against imminent attack. Raiders have been through here before,
’
twas devastating.”

Michael nodded.  He was a little surprised at their support, but at the same time extremely pleased. Kent may be trying to ruin his reputation among the men and the people, but it appeared now he would have a mighty hard time accomplishing that.

“Paul, you ride with Fletch. Donald, you’re with Colin, and Mitchell, you come with me.”

“Aye, sir.
We’ve let it be known to the other knights to prepare as well.”

The men hurried to get their horses, and together they rode out, separating in pairs at the gate of the outer bailey.

*****

Doom spread like a thick blanket over
Elena
, strangling her.

What madness was this? What danger lurked beyond the courtyard?

Elena stared, eyes like saucers, as Michael and six others thundered out of the stables. They took off like men on a mission.

“My lord,” she murmured in Kent’s direction and then motioned for her ladies to follow.

Kent barely noticed her as he guzzled another mug of wine. At this rate he’d be passed out in a drunken stupor within the hour. She piled meat and bread on a trencher and then left the table.
Oddly enough, since reuniting with Michael, a strange power seemed to fill her, a confidence she hadn’t known in years.

Her ladies followed her silently to the stables.  A stable boy lounged in a corner, chewing on a piece of leathery dried meat. His eyes grew round
and he licked his lips
as he eyed the trencher piled high with succulent meat.

“Where did the knights go?”

“Knights?”
He frowned.

“Boy, don’t play games with me. Tell me where they went, and this meal is yours.”

He looked from side to side, chewing on his lip. His decision, she supposed, was a hard one. Tell the lady and risk a beating for having given away information he should pretend not to know, per Kent’s rule—but he would have a full belly—or stay silent and starve. Self-preservation won
out.

“The captain ordered them to take stock of the village, get ready for a raid.”

Elena gasped. So the threat
was real
. She hadn’t been able to overhear the conversation between Kent and Michael, but it must have regarded the danger. She thrust the trencher toward the boy and waved him away. He eagerly grasped it and ran off toward the village, most likely to share his fortune with his family.

“Ladies, we must make haste to prepare. We’ve been raided before by men who’ve become outlaws at Kent’s hands. They will be hungry, fearless, relentless,
brutal
. My lord sits at the table eating, and ordering none of his men to prepare for attack, nor for provisions to be readied.” She looked at each of her ladies who wrung their fingers together tightly. “I know I have already asked so much of you, and if you so choose, you may go and hide in my chamber now. I would understand.”

None of them moved.

“All right, then, let’s get started.”

Her lady’s maids, Mary, Sarah and Beth went off to the kitchens to tell the servants to take stock of the cellars and bring bread, ale and water to the chapel.
They ordered the kitchens to bake more bread.
Hidden beneath the floorboards of the chapel was a crypt for the people to seek sanctuary during an attack. Tunnels had been built underground from the castle to the chapel, and from the chapel to outside the village walls. The women and children would be kept hidden in case of attack, and could escape if need be.
Her maids
Olivia and Nicole went to the chapel to seek out Father Patrick who could prepare the chapel’s secret sanctuary.

Elena took
Raelyn
with her to the keep. They sent some of the servants into town to warn the people and to gather the peasants and herders out in the fields to come in early. The people were told sanctuary would be ready for them.

“
Raelyn
, if there is to be a battle, we must prepare linens, herbs, medicines, needle and thread and whiskey for the wounded. Will you help me?”

“Of course, my lady.”

They gathered the supplies into satchels in Elena’s solar.

“
Raelyn
, when the attack happens, I want you to take the ladies into the sanctuary with you.
I will stay here.”

“My lady, no!”
Raelyn
rushed to her side, placed a staying hand on her elbow.

“I must. I have to do what I can to help as lady of Kent. The people need me—their lord cares not. Who else is there to watch out for them? Look.” She pointed down to the courtyard where Lord Kent had already passed out in his grand chair. “The man is incapable of ruling. I am Lady Kent. It is my duty.”

Raelyn
nodded,
pain in her eyes.
As much as she despised her husband, hated having ever come here, she’d never once shirked her responsibility as Lady of Kent.

“Do not be afraid,
Raelyn
. I have my dirk.” She fingered the knife at her waist.
“My second dirk, here.
”
She patted her thigh.
“
An
d my bow and arrows
are
beneath my bed. I shall be well protected.”

Walking to her window, she
looked out over the village.
Although the people
prepar
ed
for an attack, all seemed peaceful.

The remainder of her
ladies
returned, anxiousness pinched creases around their eyes and lips.

“All is prepared, my lady,” Beth said.
“In fact, several of your
people said they thought something might have been coming. A few had received word from the neighboring village and a stranger was seen in town earlier today, but disappeared quickly.”

“
Could
be tonight,” Elena whispered. “Do they have any idea who it might be?”

“No, my lady.
Outlaws, is all they heard.”

Outlaws.
Most of the outlaws in these parts were prior servants and peasants who’d been banned, and tossed on their ears by Lord Kent himself. She supposed they’d been attacking the neighboring towns as a warning, and would impose the biggest attack here at any moment. There was no running, no avoiding it.

Her lips set in firm disappointment. Didn’t Kent realize he brought this on himself? The man was a brute. It was no wonder the people would retaliate. If Michael hadn’t come along and rallied some sort of support over the last couple of weeks, she wouldn’t be surprised if the people joined the raiders and outlaws and burned their own village. But with him, Michael had brought hope. She could see it shining in their eyes.
Their dull depths seeping away
to a
sparkle.
As long as she’d been at Kent
,
she’d never seen it.
The people respected Michael
, and believed in him.

She believed in him.

Black charged into the Bailey with Michael on his back. Two other riders followed.
Elena
craned her neck. Where were the rest? There had been seven of them to set out including Michael.

Half the knights had since disappeared from the tables, presumably to gather armor, weapons and boil oil and tar. However, a few of the more stubborn ones remained behind, imbibing on copious amounts of wine with Lord Kent. They sobered immediately and jumped to their feet when Michael issued a shout. Elena had never seen the men so eager to do their duties.
But she had to wonder if those who’d remained with Kent at the table only now jumped to Michael’s commands because they feared he’d beat them, rather than a call to duty.

Servants came running from the kitchens to clear away the mess, and the men then carried the tables and benches back inside. A few lifted Lord Kent and carried him
grumbling
, drunk,
into the hall as well.

Michael looked up at her window. He always seemed to sense when she gazed on him. Their eyes connected. He looked away quickly and began issuing orders.

Two other riders burst into the courtyard, and rushed to Michael’s side. She recognized Fletch and Paul.

“They come from the south!”

Chapter
Eleven

A
man knows not which day will be his last. But Michael had a good idea today would be the day many men met their maker—and he hoped none would be his own.

“Ready the gates! Pull up the bridge!” he bellowed.

Peasants, men, women and children poured through the
opening, into
the lower bailey
. H
is men
shouted for the people to hurry as they prepared to fortify the entrance. He watched as one by one the people
streamed into the chapel instead of into the upper bailey as he’d instructed.

“What the devil?” he asked under his breath.

Father Patrick came through the chapel doors and ushered them in, stronger men he ordered aside. What was he about?

“Captain, they are close,” a guard on top of the tower shouted down.

Michael ran up the tower stairs and peered over the horizon. Rugged men brandishing weapons, some on foot, some on horses, charged out of the woods and across the fields. They trampled crops, but did not burn the goods.
Outlaws.
They wouldn’t burn what they expected to eat.

He watched with anger and horror as peasants
who’d not made it into the safety of Kent walls
ran to and fro, a few run down by the outlaws.  Why were they still out in the fields? He’d ordered everyone into the village.

Several knights, seeing the stragglers,
charged over the
drawbridge and away from t
he castle as it
was
being raised
.

“Damnation!” Now wasn’t the time to be heroes for a few. The knights risked everyone’s lives by not following his orders.

Michael’s gut wrenched.  He wanted the people protected, it was his duty, but at the same time, he needed to
protect the whole of Kent.

The tower guards hesitated, the drawbridge remained half raised.

The villains drew closer—their battle cries heard loud and clear over the hills.

What was he to do?
If he ordered it up, he’d betray those who were left outside. If he didn’t—he risked the lives of everyone on the inside.

“Colin, see to Lady Kent.” The knight d
isappeared in search of Elena
.

“Follow me!” Michael shouted to several other knights and ran down the inner bailey tower stairs and charged into the outer bailey.

From atop the outer bailey tower, a horn was blown. The sound sent chills running up and down his spine.  They were closer now. It would be too late for the heroes to return with the few people left behind. There was no time.

He and his men formed a line at the gates awaiting the outlaws, for they would surely cross the drawbridge at any moment. The clangs of metal on metal, the thud of bodies and shouts of pain carried through. The outlaws had reached his men who’d charged out.

He gritted his teeth. Legs stiff, arms held out with sword and shield in hand, he and his men waited.

“Hold!” he shouted when a few knights inched forward. “Hold… Hold!”

The drawbridge was wrenched down from the other side.

And the battle began.

Outlaws by the dozens crawled like ants into the outer bailey.  Some made it past the burning oil and large stones thrown from the battlements. Of those who made it past the initial onslaught, a few succumbed to the burning arrows shot down on them from the archers. Those who escaped both, had yet to meet their final fate—Michael.

He rent a battle cry into the air, and his men stormed forward. The outlaws fought savagely, but they were no match for trained ferocious knights.

As he swung, parried and connected, Michael kept one thing on his mind—Elena. He would do everything in his power to see that she was safe. He would let no man get beyond the outer bailey.

There came two close calls, and each time an arrow pierced the heart of the enemy. He didn’t have time to thank the archers, but continued to fight as more and more heathens scrambled over the drawbridge.

Within the hour, the outlaws were defeated, and those who had yet to cross the bridge disappeared into the woods like mist.

They would be back, he was sure of it.

He turned to assess the damage. They’d lost no one on the inside of the gates. Men lay bloodied, but their wounds would heal.

As he looked at the bodies on the ground, something struck him as odd. At least a quarter of the arrows were shorter with a gold ring painted just under the feathers. The rest were normal in length, no painting, just plain wood.

Where had they come from? He stepped forward and pulled one from the enemy. The craftsmanship was ornate, delicate.
Almost…
feminine
?
He glanced up at the tower walls. None of the archers were female; he wasn’t even sure why he looked. He tucked the arrow into his belt. He’d an idea of the owner… faint memories linger
ed
just beneath the surface. A word with Elena was in order.

Outside of the gates was what he needed to worry about. What would they find there?

“Lower the bridge
.
”
H
is voice
was
harsh from shouting and fighting.

The bridge was lowered
the remainder of the way
. Each creak and crank of the metal links echoed in his mind.
Beyond the moat, lay bodies.
Lots of bodies.
But none of them belonged to his knights, and none of them belonged to the peasants.

“Devils!
What evil is this?”

The outlaws had taken the bodies of his knights and the few peasants they’d tried to rescue—but left their own rot.

*****

Elena scurried down the stairs of the keep, her dress lifted in balled hands to keep from tripping. She rushed into the great hall. Scents of blood, moans of pain, and panic filled the room. She sighed in relief that Lord Kent had been taken to his chamber to sleep off the effects of an over-abundance of wine. Apparently, he’d imbibed and then passed out while everyone else fought for their lives. At least she wouldn’t have to deal with his boorish behavior. No doubt he’d be angry he wasn’t involved in defeating the enemy.

The battle was ended, she would attend the wounded. Even now knights still carr
ied
the injured to the great hall.

They were laid out in rows on the floor. And still no sign of Michael. Servants went to each battered knight, offering whiskey and herb-laced ale to dull their pain.

“My lady,” Edgar, the village’s surgeon addressed her.

“
Aye
?”

He bowed to her, and when he looked up, it was the first time she noticed genuine gratitude in his eyes. “Many thanks for your preparations. With your help
,
and Mercy’s
,
we should be able to get these men better in no time.”

Edgar was a rare surgeon in England. He accepted that the use of leeches and God weren’t the only way to cure an ailment or heal a wound. He trusted in Mercy’s herbal medicines and Elena’s knowledge of healing.

“For the people of Kent, I would do anything. There are many men here, let us get to work,” she answered.

In total, seventeen knights were in need of stitching, bandaging and bone setting. None of the injuries were overly
bad, but only time would heal, and hopefully without any outbreaks of fever.

Elena worked tirelessly into the night, until the last dose of herbs had been given, and each knight lay resting with a blanket to keep him warm. Father Patrick had been by to say a prayer for each of the men.

Her ladies had long since retired. Edgar sat sleeping, his head on the trestle table. Only Mercy remained awake. Elena wiped the sweat from her brow with her sleeve.

“Thank you
,
Mercy
,
for your help here this eve. Why don’t you go and rest? There will
be a lot more work tomorrow—
several of these men
will
surely succumb to fever.” She made a sign of the cross and whispered a prayer.

“Aye, my lady.
Yer
very welcome.
’
Tis only my duty.”
The woman curtsied and left the hall.

Elena slumped in
to
a chair by the fire, too exhausted to go upstairs to her chamber.

“You kept secrets from me, my lady.”

She jolted forward. When had she fallen asleep?

Michael stood beside her—her arrow in his hand. He was clean; his clothes neat, and face freshly shaven. His male, earthy scent surrounded him, causing her senses to tingle with delight. His face was blank. She cringed inwardly at what a mess she must
look,
then thought better of it
.
Michael never cared about such things.

“Secrets?”
Discreetly she wiped at her mouth, smoothed her hair and skirts, and sat forward. She would deny it was her arrow, as she was sure to only receive a lecture about leaving the defense of Kent to men.

“Aye.
I almost died of apoplexy when I found our people outside the gates had disappeared without a trace.”

She wasn’t following. Elena raised a brow in question. “What are you talking about, Michael?”

He took a seat
on
the chair beside her. Lord Kent’s chair. His long legs spread out before him, and he leaned
back—strong shoulders taking up the expanse of wood. He owned the chair, filled it perfectly. He was suited for power. He raised a brow at her.
“Does the word
tunnel
, strike any significance with you?”

She dragged her eyes from his body and stared into the fire.

“I hadn’t thought to tell you, only because I assumed Lord Kent or one of the other knight’s would have.”

Michael slammed his hand on the arm of the chair and she jerked back, unexpectedly frightened by his show of temper.

“Not a damn one of them told me. We could have been ambushed from within our own walls!” He sighed. “I’m sorry, Elena, please don’t be alarmed.”

She nodded. “I’m not, you only—startled me.”

“How am I supposed to protect this castle, the people,
you
, when I don’t know all the secrets?” His brows drew together in deep consternation, and he turned to contemplate the blaze in the hearth.

She frowned. “I must say
,
I am surprised that no one told you.”

“I’m not.”

“What do you mean?”

“Kent kept it from me for a sennight that the attack was expected. He wants me to fail.”
Anger laced his words. Hi
s scowl was enough to send the hairs on the back of her neck to rising.

“I had no idea.” But she should have. Kent couldn’t stand it when he wasn’t the most powerful person, or the center of attention.

“I know. Is there anything else I should know about?
Any other secret entrances?”

“There is only the one tunnel that leads from the cellar to the chapel and then out to the caves.”

Michael sat forward, his eyes connecting with hers. He
held up the arrow.
“And what of this?”

“’T
is an arrow.”
She bit the inside of her cheek.

“I bloody well know i
t’s
an arrow.
’
Tis
yours.”
His gaze bore into hers, willing her to admit she was the owner.

“How can you be sure?” Her voice was hushed as she tried to hide her surprise at him having realized.

“The owner of this arrow took out nearly a third of the enemy—saved my back a few times…” His words trailed off as he challenged her to deny him.

“A good shot, I suppose.”

He grunted and twirled the arrow between his fingers. “
Good
would be an understatement. I pulled this arrow from the very center of a man’s heart.”

She turned from him so he couldn’t see the proud glint that came for only a moment into her eye. Aye, it was vain to gloat, and she prayed for God to forgive her for taking lives, but all the same, she’d succeeded in protecting the keep just as she’d promised. It felt good to be in control of something. There were so many aspects of her life that she floundered for a grasp on.
She’d learned
the skill of archery in Ireland, and those mornings she was able to sneak away from Kent for a ride with her ladies, she practiced in the woods. If Kent ever found out, he would have beat
en
her. Instead, those occasions where he insisted she join him for a hunt, she pretended to miss every target.

“Look at me, Elena.”