A sniffle, a crunch of hay, and the chink of chain mail accompanied Seras turn upon her makeshift bed. She curled on her side, pocketing her hands up near her chin, her knees arrowing toward her stomach. Sleeping like a babe. A womans position.
You will be the death of me yet, Baldwin muttered. You there! He hailed the stranger back over to his side. I didnt catch your name.
Dominique San Juste, the knight offered with a short bow. The black stones set around his cloak collar clicked with the graceful movement.
Just what did the man suspect? He hadnt pressed for the truth behind the lie. Maybe he had just been guessing. Baldwin prayed so.
Sir San Juste, Ive a room in the inn with clean water and fresh bedding. But as you can see, my lord has seen to a change of plan. Would you take our room?
At what price to me?
No price. Ive simply no desire to see the room sit empty all night.
San Juste considered the notion, followed Baldwins pointing finger toward the lighted window, and then, Thank you for your kindness, squire, I shall accept.
Baldwin raised a finger to correct the man, but stopped. It was too late; he was too tired; it wasnt worth the bother. Squire was perfectly acceptable. For now.
If I may ask, what is your destination, San Juste?
Creil.
Ah, ours as well.
Indeed? Perhaps we might share the road tomorrow? I do favor friendly conversation.
A smile captured Baldwins countenance, so surprising, that he smoothed a hand over his jaw to verify its reality. To touch such an unrestrained emotion had become something of a quest for him this past week. That is very kind of you, Sir San Juste, I accept your offer.
Though he wagered Sera would not be delighted about another traveling companion, the advantage of having this rather imposing, broad-shouldered knight alongside them could not be overlooked. And beneath the wool cloak there glinted a sword and dagger; an extra set of weapons could not be refused.
Tomorrow morning?
I shall meet you at dawn.
Such luck to procure a room with little difficulty beyond a mere I accept. Dominique settled onto the bed, for to stand up straight was impossible beneath the angled pine beams that reduced the height of the room from a mans shoulders to his waist in less than a stride.
He splashed too-cold water from a dented copper bowl over his face, then shook his head, dispersing droplets across the bed.
Fresh bedding, indeed. The nest of mice sharing the packed straw on the pallet might argue against that. But with the kitchens chimney bracing the wall before which the pallet had been laid, the room was warm, so he had no argument about sharing quarters.
It hadnt been kindness that had prompted the squire to offer his masters room, Dominique felt sure. For could not the squire have taken the room in his masters absence?
No, the squires need to remain at his masters side was more necessity. The lank young man had wanted to protect the sleeping knight. He, a mere squire, thinking to protect a spurred knight! But he would not protect for long with the skein of lies he wove.
Dominique wondered now if the squire realized the wide boggled appearance his eyes took on when he spouted an obvious mistruth. Exhaustion? Would not the mans lids then be heavy upon his sight?
And what exactly was the man protecting? Could it be that his master also danced with an illusory shroud to his steps? Were they thieves?
Dominique had observed the duo in the tavern. The squire had no more thought than most men after riding all the day, to fill his belly. But the other, Antoine dAnge, had plucked and prodded suspiciously at the fare the tavern offered. Soeffeminate his actions. Just notright.
Perhaps the two were engaged in more than just a partnership of the ride? Mayhaps there was reason the squire chose to bed down next to his master this eve. Dominique knew there were those men whose carnal preferences led them in sinister directions.
He smirked at the thought, then lay back. A few squeaks near his hip protested his position, but soon settled to sleep as well.
THREE
She pouted for two leagues, hunched on the saddle, every so often casting Baldwin the evil eye. She did have a knack for the evil eye. Twas a shade more intimidating than the lesser mongoose eye. Her pale blue orbs barely revealed color as her lashes meshed in the squint of hell. Baldwin felt its damning power bore deep into his gut, where it twisted his intestines into a nervous knot.
But he could not ignore the advantage of traveling with real muscle. And Dominique San Juste was just what a wayward monk-in-training-playing-squire and a mixed-up-lady-playing-knight needed.
Sera hadnt been able to argue with Dominiques request to accompany them; he had already been mounted and ready to ride. Instead shed purposely stepped on Baldwins foot on her passage to Gryphons side, and had twice knocked him to the ground with an elbow to his ribs before they rode out of Pontoise.
Heaven knew no fury like that of an angry angel.
Dawn gifted the chilled riders with a slash of vibrant color. Pink painted the horizon as far as the eye could see, followed by amber, and orange, then the bright flash of sun, before all too quickly fading. To find the sun in the winter months was rare; most days it hid behind clouds that filled the gray sky, as if that were the natural tint instead of cerulean. And so Baldwin cherished the few moments of color.
Hours later hed learned little of Dominique San Juste, save that the dawn beguiled him as well, yet it was midnight that truly bewitched the moonlight knight.
Its too damn dark, Baldwin said. Especially riding through the forest. A man cannot know when a creepy will jump out and rip him to shreds.
It is a time when I feel the greatest strength, Dominique offered as his mount, Tor, sidled to a walk alongside Baldwin. If there are enemies to be felled I shall wait for the moonlight. Perhaps Im one of those creepies you fear?
Baldwin shot the mercenary a look. All seriousness in the mans expression. Much as he favored having him along for the ride, he did not have to trust him.
And yet, you find the dawn most beautiful as well?
It is a compulsion I must meet every morning as the sun rises. And yet, I am drained and oddly weak at that moment. A bit testy, too. He offered a shrug and a knowing grin. I cannot explain it. Never have been able to, for as much as Ive questioned it over the years. Have you an hour in the day during which your energy seems most frenzied?
I do favor the supper hour, Baldwin said with a grin. Aye, I challenge any man to stand against me when theres a fine roast boar waiting on table with apples stuffed in its mouth and wine flowing from a fat wenchs pitcher.
Dominique cocked an agreeing nod at Baldwin. I shall see to remember such when we stop to fill our bellies, lest I might lose a finger to your ravenous appetite.
With renewed interest Dominique changed tactics. Have you a voice, sir? he prompted from the other side of Baldwin. The squires master rode a horse-length ahead of the trio. While I find your squires conversation most enjoyable, I wonder how you find this fine gray morning.
A thick cloud of frozen breath blossomed before the riders face, and he rasped out, Cold.
A thick cloud of frozen breath blossomed before the riders face, and he rasped out, Cold.
Dominique raised an inquiring brow to Baldwin. The squire merely shrugged and looked ahead over the stretch of white-frosted ground. Rabbit tracks stitched a line in the quilting of snow and led to the forest edge where black-striped white birch grew tall and slender amidst the thick trunks of decades-old oak and elm. Within hearing distance, the Seine sang crisply, her waters impervious to frost. Beneath the snow cover verdant earth and grass slept in a moist bed until spring.
I feel Ive offended in some way, Dominique said, more to himself than anyone. Not that anyone listened.
The gruff-voiced man who led their motley trio certainly did keep to himself. Fine with him. The squire offered enough conversation to keep a mans jaw oiled in the stiffening chill. What is your business in Creil?
Baldwin started, Were to
The squires master blasted over with a quick, What is yours?
Ah, a tidbit of conversation. Dominique heeled his mount to catch the faster pace of the man.
What was his name? Ah yes, Antoine dAnge, of the ill-fated dAnge disaster less than a fortnight ago. So he would allow him the morose brooding. Surely he had lost much to Lucifer de Mortes cruel rampage. As for my business, I am on a mission.
Arent we all
Squire! dAnge quickly silenced.
Dominique could feel the air crackle between the two. Tension held both stiff upon the saddle. Something had lit a flame beneath dAnges mail chausses.
I stop in Creil, Dominique added carefully, all the while gauging the vibrations between the two. Though dAnge spoke little, each word, every movement was charged with a remarkable energy.
So you are a mercenary? Baldwin called.
Such perception. Or rather, an obvious guess, for he was a lone rider, fit out with sword and a mysterious manner. No gold spurs on his heels. There was no necessity in remaining a mystery. Clues to finding the black knight were welcome from any and all. And he much intended to get to the core of this intriguing tension that shot back and forth between his travel mates.
Indeed, a mercenary. Im sure youve heard much of the dark knight who swoops into battle to claim the members of the de Morte clan? Ive been instructed to seek this legendary knight.
Oh? Baldwin and his master exchanged looks. There was a glimmer ofsomethingin Antoine dAnges pale eyes. Dominique couldnt place what it was, but it overwhelmed the haggard condition of the mans face. An inner fire, perhaps that is what kept the poor soul going after his entire family had been murdered.
Dont tell me youve not heard of the black knight?
We have not, Antoine dAnge rasped, and in a stir of hoof-sifted snow, turned his horse from the trail. With a nod of his hooded head he beckoned the squire to his side. A moment to converse with my squire, if you please, San Juste.
Dominique inclined his head and crossed his hands over the hard, leather saddle pommel.
The twosome dismounted and walked off. DAnge positively steamed as he pumped his fists and worked his way toward the forest. Filled with a raging force, he was. Their boots kicked up little parallel mountains in the soft layer of snow following their wake.
An interesting reaction to Dominiques mention of the black knight. They must know something. Or perhaps they knew no more than any of the villagers claimed to know? That the knight was all-powerful and stealthy in his pursuit of the de Mortes. A legend amongst mere mortals.
Hmm Dominique just couldnt get a grasp on dAnges physicality. The squire hed already pinned as faithful, eager to spin a mistruth to protect those he served, and not entirely cut out for the journey hed most likely been persuaded to embark upon. But dAnge was a tough read. He purposely kept apart to avoid consideration.
What hid beneath that cold facade of utterly serious silence?
Slipping a hand down the side of his leg, Dominique mined for the itch that had tormented his ankle for the past few minutes. When he returned his gloved hand to the pommel he cursed the coruscation that coated his gauntlet.
A fine day it is when youve invited the enemy to accompany us like hells guardian to our deaths, Sera hissed, and punched her gloved fist against Baldwins tunic.
He gripped his shoulder and groaned, Sera.
He is the one, she said in harsh whispers, her eyes alight with accusation.
Dominique San Juste sat out of hearing range, but both were aware he kept an eye on them. Overhead, a hawk spread his wings wide as it skimmed the ground, plunged, and snatched up a field mouse in a graceful act of violence.
What one? Baldwin wondered, as he pulled his gaze from the death peals of the mouse.
You recall the rumor we heard in the inn, that Lucifer de Morte has sent a mercenary to stop the black knight before he can get to the Demon of the North. She punched a fist into her opposite palm. Well?
Sera, do you not think if San Juste wanted to kill you he would have done it by now?
He knows not who I am!
And he never will. If only you would let him know you are a woman, his suspicions would never come to fruition.
He suspects me? What say you, squire?
He does not.
Then why speak such a thing?
I dont know! He gripped his scalp, then spread out a hand in dismay. Your foul mood sets my brain aquiver. I cannot think aright with you hounding me like a rabid dog. I like San Juste. Hes a personable fellow. And I rather enjoy speaking with him. Baldwin followed her frantic footsteps. Did you hear he lives on his own? An available man, Sera. And quite the handsome face, too.
You change the subject to serve your lies. Besides she crossed her arms over her chest with a scriff of mail to armor I know nothing of his looks.
Come, my lady, every look you give the man is that of a swooning goose.
Geese do not swoon.
Very well, but women do. Baldwin playfully tweaked his hand near her cheek.
Dont touch me, toad-eater! She slapped his hand and he recoiled, but more from her words than her actions. Sorry, she rushed in at sight of his morose expression.
I am no longer, he managed, feeling the remorse for his past misdeeds coagulate in his throat. Never once did I take a mans life, only his money. You know I have always done what must be done to survive.
I should not have said it, she said, punching her fist into a palm. You coax me to false anger atimes, Baldwick.
It is false, for you use it to cover up those emotions youd rather not touch.
She did not reply, only fixed her gaze to the knight standing yonder by the brilliant white stallion. Fire had burned her path from the horse trail to here. But now the flames flickered in her cold blue eyesand settled. Baldwin watched Seras anger simmer to a nodding acceptance.
Whew, hed barely missed another punch to the shoulder.
With a thoughtful finger to chin, she finally offered, He isnt like most men, is he.
Doesnt sound like a question. More an observation.
Ive observed many a man. She looked him right in the eye. Difficult to escape her arrow-true gaze. Often.