Page 5 of Knight of Havoc
Richard nodded and sent Reynard off with a wave of his hand. Reynard left the men behind as he galloped ahead of theirparty. He slowed his mount when he smelled smoke somewhere off in the distance. ’Twas still several miles more until they reached their destination, causing Reynard to wonder what was close by.
Shielding his eyes from the sun, he briefly caught sight of a plume of dark grey smoke above the tree line. With a cluck of his tongue, he sent his horse forward again in the general direction. The usurper’s men had been ransacking all in its path and Reynard could only assume some village was in need of aid.
But when he came upon what was left, he was well aware that the only aid he might be giving would be to bury their dead. ’Twould be years before the land recovered. His horse picked its way carefully over the debris whilst Reynard gazed ahead to see the keep rising above what was left of the curtain wall. A sound of weeping caused him to stop once more to gain his bearings and to determine where the cry of anguish originated from. A small fence showed the outline of a cemetery and Reynard pulled on the reins to have the horse head in that direction.
The sound of weeping grew louder as he drew near, and Reynard dropped down to the ground. He looped the reins over his horse’s head and tied the steed to the fence. With a pat on its neck, he entered the small cemetery, wondering how the fence had remained intact. But he was more concerned with the woman who was so caught up in her grief that she did not hear him approach.
“May I offer you aid, my lady?” he asked gently, not wishing to scare her.
She jumped to her feet, swinging a small blade forward she had produced from her cloak. “Stay back!” she ordered looking past him to see if he was alone. She took several steps away from him.
Reynard held up his hands. “I mean you no harm.”
“Ha! I have heard that before,” she cried out wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her gown with her free hand. “Your kind have been here before and as you can see for yourself, there is not much left to pillage. Be gone with you!”
Reynard relaxed his stance. “As I just said,mademoiselle… I mean you no harm.”
She eyed him, quizzically moving the dirk back and forth as though such a small blade could actually stop him if he wished to capture her. “To whom do you swear your allegiance?”
“The Empress Matilda,” he stated as a matter of fact. “Did Stephen’s men lay waste to your land?”
“Aye,” she said still holding him at bay. “There may not be much left of Blackmore but ’tis still my home.”
His gaze travelled to the keep rising in the distance. He frowned, wondering who this woman was. “You must know ’tis not safe to be left alone. These are trying times, my lady.”
“Did I say I was alone?” she asked pointing the knife at him.
“I do not see anyone close by who is watching over you whilst you grieve. That alone tells me much.” He took a hesitant step forward. “Mayhap we should introduce ourselves.”
A sound escaped her… half laugh… half unladylike snort. “Introduce ourselves? Whatever for? I have no need for your name or anything else you might think to offer.”
“I cannot in good conscience leave you alone to fend for yourself, my lady.” He took another step forward whilst she backed away again.
“I am more than capable of taking care of myself,” she fumed.
Reynard looked down upon the grave she had been weeping over and thought of another approach to gain her trust. “I am sorry for the loss of your loved one,” he said. “I, too, have known much suffering at the loss of a parent.”
Her eyes widened momentarily, and the blade lowered a fraction. “’Twas my grandfather. Who did you lose because of this blasted war for the throne?”
“My father… when my home Brockenhurst was overtaken by Stephen’s men six years ago,” he replied.
“I am sorry for your loss,” she murmured quietly.
Reynard nodded his head. “No child should watch one of their parents die in such a ghastly manner. I pray your grandfather did not suffer.”
“Nay… ’twas just his time so at least he did not die defending our home.” She watched him with sorrowful blue eyes, and she seemed just as cautious as when he first came upon her.
He gave her a slight bow. “Sir Reynard Norwood of Brockenhurst. And you are?”
She took several breaths and finally lowered the blade. “Lady Elysande Thorburn of Blackmore.”
“’Tis a pleasure to meet you, my lady, even though the circumstances are unusual,” he said coming to stand next to her.
“Do you travel alone?” she asked whilst once more looking past him.
“Nay. I but scouted ahead. The empress’s men are currently headed to Bristol, and I am but a small part of that contingent. We are about her business,” he said watching her carefully. He was unsure what to do with a lone woman. He felt honor-bound to offer her what aid he was capable of giving. ’Twas clear there was not much left to the land to sustain her for the coming winter. How was she to defend herself if she no longer had a garrison of knights? A need to see that she was safe filled him, though he was unsure why he was so concerned with a total stranger. Perchance the cause was because he knew of the suffering she was experiencing, given his own losses.
“I see…” Her words lingered in the air between them.
