Page 8 of Knight of Darkness
He offered her a bow that would have done anyone at court justice. “My lord,” he murmured in a deep baritone, “I am Wymar Norwood, most recently from Sheffield.”
Ceridwen gave a brief nod. “I am Lord Elric Bartone,” she replied, not giving any location from where she hailed. Nor did she trust herself to speak more for fear of giving her true self away. She may be attracted to this man but she knew him not and there was no reason for her to trust him as yet. She folded her arms across her chest and tilted her head to study him further. A convenient bolt of lightning illuminated the tent, and she was able to see the blue-grey of his eyes. She almost smiled seeing the color. Such a shade further complimented the man standing before her as though he in truth commanded the Empress’s entire regiment.
Wymar cleared his throat and looked about her tent. She dare not peer behind her on the off chance she left something feminine in sight, not that she carried much with her as a reminder.
“You are well?” he finally inquired.
There was genuine concern in his voice as he observed her and she realized she needed to dismiss him as quickly as possible. She had a feeling in her gut this man was smarter than most. “I am,” she answered curtly.
“I thought mayhap you could use further assistance. You seemed distressed.”
A snort escaped her. More like irritated than anything else for allowing a puddle of rain to be her embarrassing downfall, along with a shove or two from Sperling. “I can handle Ratcliff.”
“If you are certain…” His words lingered in the air whilst he waited for her reply.
“I am,” she replied waving to the entry to the tent. ’Twas as though Arthur stood within hearing for the flap opened wide for Norwood to take his leave.
He watched her carefully before giving another nod. “Then as long as you are safe, I bid you good night. I am at your service, if you ever are in need of my assistance. Godspeed and may you remain safe on the battlefield come the morrow.”
“And you, Norwood.”
The handsome devil took his leave and a rush of air left her lungs in a huge sigh of relief. Arthur continued his vigil at the entryway to her tent for several moments.
“He is gone?” she asked in a breathy whisper.
Arthur let the tent flap fall into place closing off the outside world. “Aye, you are safe for now from any further intrusions for the night.”
“Let us hope so.” Ceridwen finally pushed the metal helm from her head and pulled out the long braid of blonde hair. “Help me with this chainmail. The gear feels unusually heavy this eve.”
He lessened the distance between them. “I can imagine,” he grumbled. “Lean forward so I can help you.”
Ceridwen did as her captain bid, and relief flooded her to no longer bear the weight of the heavy chainmail that had protected her all day and night. “I suppose I shall be donning it much sooner than I would like. Dawn will be here before we know it.”
“We can always go home instead, let others carry the fight,” he suggested taking the chain linked armor and placing it over a wooden chest near her pallet.
“You know I cannot just up and leave.”
“Why not? ’Tis not as though you are under orders to appear. Indeed, the Empress does not even know you are here amongst all these warriors, and praise God for that. She would not be pleased.”
“Aye, I know,” she hissed rubbing her eyes. “But I swore a vow pledging my sword arm to do all I was capable of in order to fight for her throne. I cannot in all good conscience forget such a commitment. Besides, if I were to return home, my father would think I was weak. I would rather die upon the battlefield then to allow him to condemn me in such a manner.”
Arthur sighed. “You know very well he would not think of you as weak. You are the son he never had.”
“He may think of me as such at times but he also has no issue to press the suit of a man not worthy of me. I hope upon my return home that I can convince my father of Ratcliff’s true nature. I cannot image being condemned to a life with Ratcliff. Surely my sire will see reason.”
“Indeed, he loves you so dearly that I cannot imagine him forcing you to wed against your wishes. All he wants is for you to be settled and happy.”
“And so I shall be, with the husband I will findafterthe Empress is crowned queen. Until then, my place is here.”
Arthur sighed. “You cannot blame me for trying. I sometimes wonder if ’tis worth the effort. Perhaps we are fighting for the wrong side.”
She gasped and her eyes narrowed. “’Tis treasonous to even suggest Stephen should be king. Tell me I have not unjustly placed my trust in you. I thought you believed as I do that Empress Matilda is the rightful queen as the daughter of Henry I!” She gritted her teeth to prevent herself from shouting.
Arthur raked his hair back from his forehead. “You know I am faithful to her cause and to you. Mayhap I am just tired of it all and missing home, along with the comfort of my own bed. Sometimes I feel I am too old for thisshite!”
“Bah! Old? You? If a score and ten is old then what will you feel like when you are old enough to be a father or grandfather for that matter?” she teased, thankful that her captain had only a momentary lapse of homesickness.
“I have to marry before such a miracle will happen and I am too busy fighting and keeping you safe to wed,” he jested in return. His again went to the opening of the tent to peer out into the darkness. Closing it once more, he stood in silence as she went about putting the rest of her gear in place. “He is dangerous.”
