Page 3 of Knight of Chaos
“My father trained me well,” she argued lifting her chin defiantly.
“If that is so, then you should be fighting for King Stephen who is the rightful ruler of England,” he thundered in return.
She gave a brief laugh at his comment. “’Tis just like you to think that a woman has no right to rule, let alone make up her own mind on how she must live her life. When did you all of a sudden become a supporter of Stephen? What happened to the carefree man of our youth? You have become just like the rest of the people who live here, Charles. Single minded with no thought of what your words do to another.”
“At least I know my place in this world. I do not aspire to be more than I am. Whereas you…” His words trailed off and lingered between them.
There was nothing left to say, and yet she still delayed her departure in order to stay near the young man who was really only concerned with her safety… or so she supposed. He had not changed her mind as he had hoped, and she could see for herself that regret filled his heart.
She reached up to cup his cheek, his hand briefly resting over her own. She stood on the tips of her toes to place a chaste kiss on his other cheek and heard his heavy sigh. Looking into his eyes, she smiled. “Farewell, Charles,” she murmured before turning to her horse and leading it to a mounting block.
“Godspeed, Ingrid. I shall look over your land until your return.” He said his final reply and she gave him a brief nod of thanks.
“Let us be on our way, Valor,” she said to her horse. Hoisting herself into the saddle, she put on leather gloves and took up the reins. With one last look at her friend and her home, she flicked the reins to put her steed in motion. Whatever awaited her in the future, she would meet the situation head on. Her new life was just beginning, and she looked forward to the challenge.
Chapter Three
Another day inthe saddle after another night sleeping on the cold ground. Theobald should be used to the conditions of camp life and yet still he wished for a roof over his head and a bed to rest his weary body. He didn’t foresee such a happening in his near future until they reached Winchester and he could have his tent set up.
Word had traveled throughout the ranks of the current situation into which they would shortly be thrust. The Empress hoped to surprise Bishop Henry with an attack whilst he laid siege at the royal castle garrisoned by Angevins on the southwest side of the city. Now only a day away from Winchester, Theobald could only ponder if the Empress had enough forces to defeat the bishop.
Bringing up the rear of their company, Theobald had few words for any of the knights that rode beside him. Having the dust of the road in your face whilst following behind the army ahead of him made Theobald crave a hot bath to wash the dirt from his body. His mood was irritable and he began to wonder if Reynard’s words had left more of an impact on him than he had thought. But, nay! He was still committed to the Empress’s cause—still believed that she was the rightful ruler of England.
Laughter broke out from several knights riding next to him. Blake Kennarde, Oswin Woodwarde, and Kingsley Goodee had been faithful to the Empress’s cause since Theobald met them at the Battle of Lincoln. They were as good as companions as any, but today their laughter made him miss his brothers. Their goal to stay together had fallen apart and Theobald could only wonder when their paths would cross again.
Blake leaned over in his saddle and gave Theobald a slap on his arm. “You were far away, my friend,” he said before continuing. “Is aught amiss?”
Theobald considered his words before he responded. “Nay, unless I wish to complain about the amount of dust we are wearing riding in the back of the army.”
Oswin chuckled. “Mayhap the leader of the Empress’s troops feels we are better suited to guarding her rear.”
“Bah!” Kingsley complained. “You would think we were not seasoned knights fit to ride with those moreworthyin the lead. Did we not prove our worth when we rode with the earl and he and his men captured King Stephen?”
“There are worse things in the world to worry about then where we ride in the Empress’s forces—including the possibility of an ambush at any moment,” Theobald replied, leery at every turn in the road. He hated the feeling of always looking over his shoulder for trouble. He supposed the feelings came from his youth when he and his brothers had fled their home after the siege.
Blake nodded. “You seem more on edge than normal, Theobald. What ails you?”
Theobald shrugged. “Call it a premonition but something tells me to stay alert.”
“You worry over nothing,” Oswin remarked with a smirk. “No one would dare an attack on the Empress’s knights.”
A flash of red behind a nearby tree caused Theobald to pull on the reins of his black warhorse. ’Twas as though Oswin’s words had prompted some cruel fate to prove them untrue. The knights slowed their mounts, but Theobald waved at them to proceed forward. “Ride on, men, but stay close in case I need aid. I shall catch up.”
Kingsley laughed and made a lewd comment about using the forest for a privy but Theobald did not reply as he brought his steed to a halt. The men rode on at a slow pace.
Eyes peering into the shadows of the woods, he barely made out the form of someone cautiously watching the army as it passed by. It might be nothing ominous. But still… Theobald would be wary of anyone hiding in the forest who may be a spy for Stephen or the bishop. Even if it weren’t one of their enemies’ soldiers, it might still be a thief looking to rob someone.
He quickly dismounted, flicking the reins over the horse’s head to lead it to a nearby tree opposite of where he’d glimpsed the man. His horse neighed and shook its head in defiance and Theobald scowled at the steed.
“You best behave, you damn ornery beast, lest I have you butchered and made into a meal for the men,” he warned watching as the horse flapped its lips to appear as though he was smiling. ’Twas as if the animal knew Theobald’s threat was empty. After all, if he no longer had a steed, how would he ride into battle?
The army moved on whilst Theobald looped the reins on a thick tree branch. He told his steed to behave again after it neighed once more, then Theobald took his sword from the scabbard at his side, pointing the blade forward. Crossing the road, he made his way into the woods. The rustling of a nearby bush caught his attention, causing Theobald to again be wary of what or who he might meet. He quietly made his way to where he could once more make out a hint of red through the leaves. Before the man could get away, Theobald reached into the bush to grab the forearm of the stranger, pulling the body forward to stand before him.
A voice rang out in outrage—a very feminine voice—causing Theobald’s eyes to widen at who he held. A woman dressed as a man was always an unusual sight to behold. This woman briefly brought to mind Lady Ceridwen Ward of Norwich, the maiden who had fallen in love with his brother Wymar. A tale of lost love, Theobald was certain, that would never come to fruition given that their responsibilities had forced them to part. Still… he was caught off guard whilst hazel eyes narrowed before she swiftly reacted. He stepped back just in time when the woman’s own blade came forward to connect with Theobald’s. There was a blinding flash from the sunlight as the two swords met, causing them both to blink.
’Twas enough for Theobald to once more step back, holding up his hands to show he meant the woman no harm. She continued to hold her blade out in front of her and he could not blame her. He took in her appearance, noticing how her hose pleasingly hugged her long well-shaped legs. Her tunic stretched across firm, full breasts. If this lady was attempting to conceal her figure to make those she encountered believe that she was anything else but a woman, she was failing miserably. Men’s garments would in no way hide the fact that the person beneath the fabric was a young, lovely woman. Her dark auburn hair was tied with a leather strap and left uncovered. But this had been her mistake in the first place for the color was like a beacon for all to see. It would be wiser to conceal it with a hood or scarf if she truly wished to avoid notice. Hazel eyes were set in a lovely round face that was tanned from the sun, causing Theobald to assume this woman had spent a fair about of time out of doors.
He sheathed his sword and waited for her to relax her guard. Considering she still held herself poised for a fight, he did not think this would be happening any time soon until she was assured she would be safe in his presence. He would silently applaud such a decision to not trust a stranger were he not the one in danger of being stabbed should she lash out in haste.
