Page 9 of Knight of Darkness
“Norwood?” she asked continuing what she was doing and not looking at Arthur.
“Who else would I be talking about?”
“Ratcliff.” She pulled at a blanket and tossed it to Arthur who always slept at the entrance to her tent to continue his vigilant guard over her.
“We already knew him to be trouble from the moment he joined up with us. Nay, Norwood is far more dangerous, and I have the feeling he will change your life in unfathomable ways.”
Ceridwen laughed before lying down upon her pallet. She would not confess that she, too, was tired of sleeping on the ground. “Norwood is as any other man,” she answered dismissing any further thought as to the warrior’s importance. She pulled the pelt of fur up to her chin and turned on her side. “Sleep well, Arthur.”
Arthur blew out the candle and went to his pallet by the door. “Just be careful where he is concerned, my lady, and remember to guard your heart.”
’Twas not long before Arthur’s gentle snoring filled the tent. But such was not the case for Ceridwen as sleep evaded her. Her thoughts turned again and again to the way that Norwood had come to her aid this night. Even though she was more than capable of taking care of herself, it spoke of his character that he would rise so quickly to another’s defense. And furthermore, to come through camp and the rain to check on her… a small smile escaped her thinking the man must have a sense of chivalry engrained in his soul. It mattered not to her that he thought of her as just another man. He had a sense of honor, enough so that he had taken the time to ensure she was safe. A man like that would be hard to forget.
Tossing and turning far into the night, a pair of blue-grey eyes continued to haunt her causing her to fret that perchance it was too late. Mayhap, and God help her if such was the case, she had already lost her heart to a handsome stranger.
Chapter Five
An eerie fogblanketed the early morning hours that would leave most with a premonition of spine-chilling events to come. Already a se’nnight had passed since his arrival at Lincoln, allowing Sperling to spend his days swinging his sword for the Empress in spite of his best attempts to avoid the battlefield. Yet Sperling had only one purpose in mind this morn and ’twas not to serve the Empress—nor would worry over the ghostlike weather deter him from his task. Nay, he would use the mist to his advantage to move about camp for the most part unseen. There was only one who stopped his progress over the line of defense set up by Stephen’s army. But the sentry on duty was aware of Sperling’s dealings with the king at such an ungodly hour and let him pass without a word being said once he recognized who approached.
He would be considered a traitor if captured by any of the knights who fought for either side considering the many times he had traipsed across to both camps during the Battle of Lincoln. Those in Matilda’s army would slit his throat without a moment’s hesitation if they knew he had been passing on information to King Stephen… or that he was, in truth, loyal to his king. And ’twas not as though all of King Stephen’s men knew Sperling was on their side. ’Twas a dilemma he prayed would end soon with a victory for his king.
With the sighting of the king’s tent, the knight standing guard gave him a leery look before allowing him entrance by holding open the flap.The insolent cur, he thought before bowing low upon entering. “Your most gracious Majesty,” he murmured respectfully.
“Rise, Sir Ratcliff,” the king bade with a wave of his hand.
“I am your most humble servant. How may I be of service?” he asked rising to watch his king’s fingers drumming restlessly upon the arm of his chair.
“You could have this blasted siege be over and done with if you truly wished to please me… but I suppose that is asking much for just one man.”
“If ’twas in my power, I would grant you victory of the battle, Your Grace.”
“What news do you have ofhercamp?” King Stephen inquired refusing to even say Matilda’s name.
“There is not much to report, Your Majesty, since my last visit. Her army is prepared to wage war for the entire year if need be to win their cause.”
The king stood and began pacing the confines of his tent. “That damn woman will not win what is rightfully mine,” he swore raising his fist.
“Of course not, Your Majesty,” Ratcliff bowed, lowering his eyes.
“What news do you have of her half-brother, Robert, first Earl of Gloucester? Has he joined her ranks?” the king questioned.
“Not to my knowledge or that I have been privy to overhear.”
The king walked over to a table and motioned for Sperling to join him. He began pointing toward a map. “I have plans for you, Ratcliff. There are several castles between Lincoln and London where it would be beneficial to me to know I have a loyal man who supports my reign, especially with those near the coast. Several are currently in my control and their lords have now pledged their fealty to me. This one here I believe you shall recognize because ’tis adjacent to your own land.”
Sperling’s eyes traveled across the map to where King Stephen pointed. There was no mistaking the estate. “Aye, of course I know of it since we are neighbors.”
“Once the battle is won in our favor, make your way home and pursue a marriage between yourself and the daughter. Kill her father if he will not agree. I hear he is a traitor and favors my cousin so ’twill be of no matter to me if his head sits upon a pike outside his own gate. How you deal with the woman is up to you but wed her and secure the castle in my name.”
“’Twill be done, Your Grace,” Sperling replied with a smile of satisfaction. He knew that God had blessed his dreams, and this was just further proof, since the commands of his king aligned so perfectly with his own wishes to control Ceridwen by any means possible.
“Then be gone with you before this infernal mist disappears and you are spotted as a spy,” his king ordered with another wave of his hand. “You have served me well, Ratcliff. I would hate to lose such a cunning man.”
Sperling bowed again and left the tent eager to be amongst the fighting this day. If all went according to plan, he would be wed once this battle was over and at last have Ceridwen right where he wanted her… in his bed.
*
Wymar ducked, beforedropping to his knees when he narrowly missed the battle-axe aimed at this head. “You bloody whoreson,” he shouted when he regained his feet, swinging his sword in a wide arc.
