Read Online Candace C. Bowen - A Knight Series 01 by A Knight of Silence - Free Book Online
Authors: A Knight of Silence
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him.
Resigned to the unpleasant task of imparting the news to Sir Everard,
he made plans to depart for Castell Maen. After meeting with his castellan, he
would journey to Rochester to view the tower’s progress, before riding to
London. When he reported his marriage-less state, he could only hope Henry
would be in one of his more benevolent moods.
Satisfied with his course of action, he closed his eyes where he found
Reina waiting.
The sun was well up by the time he stirred to the sound of laughter
coming from the practice yard below. Striding naked to the window, he threw
open the shutters to find his men training with the quintain.
Gervase sat sprawled in the dust after his lance struck the edge of the
shield. Before he could dodge, the
weighted bag swung around to sweep him from his horse.
“That is the third time in a row Gervase, I believe you are losing your
touch,” Guy called.
“Not where it counts,” Gervase quipped.
Shaking his head in exasperation at his youngest knight, Fulke hastened
to dress. A bout of physical exertion was just what he needed before his
meeting with Sir Everard.
With a will of its own, his mind wandered to more pleasurable
activities as the glimpse he had of Reina’s perfect body flashed through his
mind. Recalling himself, he stormed from
the chamber. It was past time for him to leave Kendrick Keep.
Except for a pair of young boys cleaning the hearth, the Great Hall
stood empty.
Stepping into the brisk autumn air he gazed up at the cloud-laden sky.
Winter was fast approaching. It made
travel of any duration all the more difficult.
He spotted Warin standing alone by the rail to the lists watching the
men practice as he stepped through the gate. After their attempts to befriend the lad, he would not take it lightly
if they chose to shut him out.
Intent on bringing the matter up with Albin, he called, “Fetch my
horse, lad.” Watching with satisfaction
as Warin jumped to the task.
So long as he gave a clean shave, he no doubt would be a fitting
replacement for Osbert. Recalling the
many nicks he endured during Osbert’s first attempts with a sharp blade, he
winced.
Long considered to be the mark of a knight’s virility, he could never
stand the feel of the coarse whiskers covering his face. Refusing to pay heed to such nonsense, only
Albin dared to bring it up on occasion.
Returning with his horse, Fulke noted Warin’s crestfallen
demeanor. “Is there aught amiss, lad?”
Holding out the reins, Warin avoided his gaze. “All is well, my liege.”
Before Fulke could question him further, he turned back to the stables.
Vaulting into the saddle, he rode over to Albin.
Finished instructing Osbert on the correct way to strike the quintain,
he glanced up at his approach. “Kind of
you to join us this morn, my liege.”
Reining up, he ignored his dry attempt at humor. “Is aught amiss with Warin?”
Albin shrugged. “I know not, Fulke. The lad has been gloomy for most of
the morn. I thought perhaps he is a tad melancholy at leaving home, so
instructed the men to leave him be.”
Fulke gazed thoughtfully in the direction of the stables. “I have a
feeling there is something more behind it, Albin.”
* * * *
By the time Fulke called for a break from jousting, the sun was high.
Joining the men for a tankard of ale, he knew he was postponing the
inevitable meeting with Sir Everard.
Hesitant to depart with Reina believing the worst of him, he had hoped
all morning to catch her on the way back from the village.
Left with no choice, he headed to the keep for the midday meal. Scanning the stables, he waited to see if
Warin would join them. When he failed to appear, he assumed Albin was right.
The lad was extremely close with Reina. Perhaps he was taking the parting hard.
“I have not seen the lad since early this morn.” Falling in step beside
him, Albin answered his unasked question.
“Were you seeking
Resigned to the unpleasant task of imparting the news to Sir Everard,
he made plans to depart for Castell Maen. After meeting with his castellan, he
would journey to Rochester to view the tower’s progress, before riding to
London. When he reported his marriage-less state, he could only hope Henry
would be in one of his more benevolent moods.
Satisfied with his course of action, he closed his eyes where he found
Reina waiting.
The sun was well up by the time he stirred to the sound of laughter
coming from the practice yard below. Striding naked to the window, he threw
open the shutters to find his men training with the quintain.
Gervase sat sprawled in the dust after his lance struck the edge of the
shield. Before he could dodge, the
weighted bag swung around to sweep him from his horse.
“That is the third time in a row Gervase, I believe you are losing your
touch,” Guy called.
“Not where it counts,” Gervase quipped.
Shaking his head in exasperation at his youngest knight, Fulke hastened
to dress. A bout of physical exertion was just what he needed before his
meeting with Sir Everard.
With a will of its own, his mind wandered to more pleasurable
activities as the glimpse he had of Reina’s perfect body flashed through his
mind. Recalling himself, he stormed from
the chamber. It was past time for him to leave Kendrick Keep.
Except for a pair of young boys cleaning the hearth, the Great Hall
stood empty.
Stepping into the brisk autumn air he gazed up at the cloud-laden sky.
Winter was fast approaching. It made
travel of any duration all the more difficult.
He spotted Warin standing alone by the rail to the lists watching the
men practice as he stepped through the gate. After their attempts to befriend the lad, he would not take it lightly
if they chose to shut him out.
Intent on bringing the matter up with Albin, he called, “Fetch my
horse, lad.” Watching with satisfaction
as Warin jumped to the task.
So long as he gave a clean shave, he no doubt would be a fitting
replacement for Osbert. Recalling the
many nicks he endured during Osbert’s first attempts with a sharp blade, he
winced.
Long considered to be the mark of a knight’s virility, he could never
stand the feel of the coarse whiskers covering his face. Refusing to pay heed to such nonsense, only
Albin dared to bring it up on occasion.
Returning with his horse, Fulke noted Warin’s crestfallen
demeanor. “Is there aught amiss, lad?”
Holding out the reins, Warin avoided his gaze. “All is well, my liege.”
Before Fulke could question him further, he turned back to the stables.
Vaulting into the saddle, he rode over to Albin.
Finished instructing Osbert on the correct way to strike the quintain,
he glanced up at his approach. “Kind of
you to join us this morn, my liege.”
Reining up, he ignored his dry attempt at humor. “Is aught amiss with Warin?”
Albin shrugged. “I know not, Fulke. The lad has been gloomy for most of
the morn. I thought perhaps he is a tad melancholy at leaving home, so
instructed the men to leave him be.”
Fulke gazed thoughtfully in the direction of the stables. “I have a
feeling there is something more behind it, Albin.”
* * * *
By the time Fulke called for a break from jousting, the sun was high.
Joining the men for a tankard of ale, he knew he was postponing the
inevitable meeting with Sir Everard.
Hesitant to depart with Reina believing the worst of him, he had hoped
all morning to catch her on the way back from the village.
Left with no choice, he headed to the keep for the midday meal. Scanning the stables, he waited to see if
Warin would join them. When he failed to appear, he assumed Albin was right.
The lad was extremely close with Reina. Perhaps he was taking the parting hard.
“I have not seen the lad since early this morn.” Falling in step beside
him, Albin answered his unasked question.
“Were you seeking
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