Page 1 of Promises Made at Midnight
CHAPTER1
Berwyck Castle ~ Early Spring
The Year of Our Lord’s Grace 1183
Sir Ulrick de Mohan, lately of Berwyck, swung his blade in a downward plunge whilst his adversary lifted his shield to protect himself. The sound of blades shearing against blades rang out in the lists. Grunts of pain resounded in the air from those who attempted to be worthy of becoming a guardsman of the Devil’s Dragon. Many had already failed in their attempts for fame and glory—numerous knights were packing up their gear with curses of disappointment.
A raucous laugh escaped Ulrick. Here was another lad unable to hold his own against a noble adversary. Brown eyes glared furiously through the slits of his foe’s helmet, and his shield swung in Ulrick’s direction. Ulrick jumped back to miss being hit. Their blades made contact again and another laugh escaped him. Mayhap the lad held some promise after all!
Let us see what he is made of, Ulrick thought. His sword once more swung with a speed most would not be able to counter. Surprisingly, the lad did a passable job, until his blade was wrenched from his gauntlet. It sailed through the air end over end, narrowly missing the head of another nearby who fought just as aggressively.
Ulrick expected the young knight to yield the day, but apparently the boy had other plans. He tore off his helmet, flinging it into the dirt beneath his boots before swinging his fist in Ulrick’s direction.Foolish lad.
“Come on, then, if you think you are man enough to knock me off my feet,” Ulrick taunted with a smirk, causing a growl of outrage to erupt from the knight, who lunged forward. Ulrick easily side-stepped and watched in satisfaction when his opponent face planted onto the ground. “Your anger gets the best of you, boy,” he warned with a chuckle. “’Twill be your downfall on the field of battle lest you make some attempt to control it.”
The knight spat out a mouthful of soil, wiped his lips with the back of his sleeve, and slowly picked himself up off the field. “I am no boy,” the youth sneered, showing a fair amount of bravado considering he had just been bested.
Ulrick adjusted his leather jerkin and then folded his arms over his chest. “You will have to do a better job of proving such to me, then. You will not proceed to the next test unless you do so. ’Twas a pitiful display you just gave and will not keep you here at Berwyck, if that is your aim,” he mocked, widening his stance.
A squire came bearing the knight’s sword, which he sheathed into the scabbard with a fair amount of force. “I am an ample match for you and all of Berwyck’s garrison.”
A chortle erupted from Ulrick’s lips. “You have cheek, I will give you that, but you have much to learn and a long way to go before you will measure up to the Devil’s Dragon and his high standards.”
“I am more than ready now to take you all on, one by one,” the knight said placing his hand on the hilt of his sword.”
Ulrick held up his hand to halt any further protests from the youth. “I think not. What is your name and from whence do you hail?”
The knight gave a short bow before standing tall to proclaim his right to remain at Berwyck. “I am Godfrey Hawkins of Stonebrook. My sire-”
“I care not who your sire is, only that his son is worthy to continue training here,” Ulrick said. He assessed the youth before him, who appeared as if he might hold promise. Although young in appearance, Godfrey showed evidence of a fair amount of time spent training. Dark brown hair cut close to his nape, solidly built, and just a touch of arrogance that would most likely get his foot past the barbican gate for a least another day. ’Twas that face, though, that made Ulrick wonder at the boy’s age for ’twas far too young looking. “You appear as if you are no more than ten and five. Surely, you must be older.”
Godfrey puffed himself up much like a rooster fluffing his feathers for the hens to take notice of him. “I will have you know, I am a score of years,” he fumed.
Ulrick’s brow lifted in amusement. “That old… I would not have thought it. Surely, you jest.”
Godfrey pulled his sword forward once more. “Defend yourself and I will prove to you I do not make light of being insulted by you or any other!”
“Ulrick!” His name echoed above the noise on the lists.
He knew its owner and there was no need to turn to know who spoke. “Aye, my Lord Dristan,” Ulrick called over his shoulder, still pondering whether the knight before him would one day be capable enough to join the guardsmen in defending the castle and its inhabitants.
A heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder and Ulrick looked over to see the steel grey eyes of Dristan of Berwyck evaluating Godfrey with a critical shrewdness. A silence descended upon the lists at his commanding presence, and all turned to watch the scene unfolding before them.
“Has he earned his place to sup with us?” Dristan asked, as he also widened his stance to peer at Godfrey.
Ulrick had to give the boy credit, for he did not flinch even the slightest under the close scrutiny of Ulrick’s liege lord. There were not many of his acquaintance who would not do so, given his lord’s reputation. Godfrey’s chin rose a notch as if in a silent challenge to continue the conversation that had been interrupted but moments before. At least he held his tongue and did not snap some insult that would see him flung from Berwyck posthaste.
“Aye, my Lord Dristan. He has earned the privilege,” Ulrick at last answered, watching Godfrey let out his breath as if he had been holding it. It took everything in Ulrick’s power not to laugh at the look of relief on Godfrey’s face when he found he would stay yet another day.
“’Tis good news that we at least found one more person amongst this rabble who appears as if he may be up to the challenge we put before them,” Dristan proclaimed, and peered down at Godfrey. “You will continue your training on the morrow with Sir Ulrick.”
“My thanks, Lord Dristan,” Godfrey answered with a bow of respect.
Dristan laughed. “Do not thank me as yet, as you do not know what is in store for you. Most do not make it past a se’nnight before they give up.”
“I will not fail you,” Godfrey said as though already pledging his fealty to the man before him.
Dristan smirked. “We shall see. In the meantime, get you to the Great Hall and eat your fill. The morn will be here before you know it.”
