Chapter Four
For a day that had started so beautiful, the weather turned bad quickly. It was just a few miles from Brampton to Kirklinton Castle but as the weather threatened, Mathias picked up the pace.
He was disappointed, too, because the first hour of their ride had been very pleasant and leisurely.
He and Cathlina had spoken of trivial things, like little stories from when they were younger or, in Cathlina’s case, a grandfather who had no teeth and spent all of his time gnawing on animal bones like a dog.
She had giggled through the story and Mathias had been charmed by the way she told it.
The more time he spent with her, the more he felt his wall of self-protection crumbling.
De Lara or no, he was deeply attracted to her.
But then the clouds rolled in and the breeze began to pick up.
He watched the sky turn dark but Kirklinton was at least another hour away so he gently prodded Cathlina to move a bit faster.
But she wasn’t interested in returning home any time soon.
She was more interested in their conversation and truth be told, so was he.
Their quickened pace didn’t last long before they were back to a leisure stroll.
Mathias rode a big, heavy gray charger that was well past its prime.
When he’d had his knighthood stripped, they’d taken his charger as well and he missed the horse very much.
It had been Justus who had purchased the old charger for his son a few months after that fateful day and Mathias was rather fond of the beast, but he soon discovered it was rather skittish.
It particularly didn’t like thunder. Every time the clouds rolled, the horse would jump.
As Cathlina chattered on, it was taking increasing effort to control the old stud.
“Now you know all about my silly grandfather,” she said as fat drops of rain began to splatter. “Tell me about your family, Mathias. I have met your father and brother. Where is your mother?”
He clucked to the big horse to soothe it. “My mother died a few years ago,” he told her. “In fact, I was away at the time. My mother and I were rather close and it was always a regret that I was not with her in her final hours.”
Cathlina turned serious as he spoke of his mother. “I am sorry,” she said softly. “Was your mother ill for a long time?”
Mathias nodded. “She was,” he said. “I tried to spend as much time as I could with her but at that time in my life, I was traveling quite a bit and could not stay by her side for an over amount of time.”
“Traveling?” Cathlina asked, cocking her head. “Where were you traveling to?”
Mathias had been very careful throughout the conversation to avoid any mention of his knightly past. He’d done a good job of it so far but questions like the one Cathlina proposed could get him into trouble, so he was very careful in how he answered it.
“I was learning my trade,” he replied. It wasn’t a lie. He had been a young knight learning his trade – he simply didn’t specify which trade, smithy or knighthood. “My travels took me to France and to Italy.”
“You have been to Italy?” Cathlina was enthralled. “How was it? Was it beautiful? Did you go to Rome? My father went to Rome. He said the streets were paved with gold.”
Mathias laughed softly at her enthusiasm. “It is a beautiful city, to be sure,” he agreed. “There are many ancient and mysterious buildings. The people there told me that gods used to live in them.”
Cathlina’s mouth popped open in awe. “Is this true?”
He fought off a grin at her gullible astonishment. “That is what I was told.”
Cathlina thought long and hard about buildings where gods used to live. “I would certainly like to see them someday,” she said fervently. “Mayhap I shall travel there as well.”
Mathias studied her lovely face, so pure and sweet.
He wanted to offer to escort her there, he truly did.
He was so upswept in the moment, feeling giddy as he hadn’t felt since he had been a young boy.
He would travel the world with her if only to speak on things like silly grandfathers and godly abodes.
It made him feel more wonderful than he could ever recall, this beautiful young woman with the silly giggle.
But the offer would not have been appropriate, and he was sorry.
“I am sure you will,” he said quietly.
She caught something in his tone, something that was both wistful and genuine, but by the time she turned to him, he was looking away from her.
It seemed that he had spotted something up the road and she strained to see what had his attention.
He seemed concerned and that, in turn, had her concerned.
“What is it?” she asked. “What do you see?”
Mathias wasn’t sure, but it was men on horseback. He could see them just over the rise, heading in their direction. Soon enough, they would be upon them. The wind whipped and the thunder grumbled as he watched their distant approach.
“Men on horseback,” he replied steadily. “More than likely, more knights for the tournament. More horses I must shoe.”
He said it with some humor, trying to deflect any concern over the potential approach of danger. He was successful in diverting her attention and when he turned to look at her, she was smiling at him.
“It is a pity that the tournament is only open to knights,” she said. “You are quite brave. I would wager that you could do very well in a tournament given the chance.”
Mathias stared at her. Her innocent statement brought an avalanche of memories crashing down on him.
He’d competed in dozens of tournaments in his lifetime and for six years in a row had been the man to beat in every tournament from Edinburgh to Southampton.
But that had been in between Mortimer’s wars, and he hadn’t competed in a tournament in at least four years. It seemed like a lifetime ago.
“It takes more than bravery to compete,” he told her. “It takes a good deal of skill and strength.”
“Do you know much about tournaments?”
“I know enough.”
“I saw one tournament a few years ago,” Cathlina said. “When I fostered at Lincoln Castle, there was a very large tournament one year. Our lord and several of his knights competed. It was very exciting.”
A warning bell went off in Mathias’ head. He turned to her. “Who was your lord?”
“Ranulf de Pennington,” she replied. “He held the castle for the crown. He nearly won the joust but a big black knight under Roger Mortimer’s banner beat him. Nearly drove Lord Ranulf right into the ground. We all hated him very much after that.”
Mathias looked away. That big black knight was me, he thought ironically. Odd how the world, so big most of the time, had suddenly grown quite small. “Did you even know the knight’s name or was he simply the Hated One?”
Cathlina giggled. “I do not recall,” she said. “It was something like Rain or Rainton. I do not remember. If I ever meet this man, I will punch him right in the nose and call it justice for Lord Ranulf.”
It was de Reyne. Mathias knew she didn’t know his surname because he never told her. He thought to never tell her now lest she punch him in the nose. Moreover, it seemed as if she already had a bad opinion of him. He cleared his throat, almost nervously, and hastened to change the subject.
“So you have been to Lincolnshire,” he said. “You have traveled a great deal. Many people do not ever leave the towns they were born in. You have been fortunate.”
She was successfully diverted. “I was at Lincoln Castle for six years,” she replied. “There was so much war going on and my father was away so often that my mother did not want her daughters away as well. I went to foster when I was eight years of age and returned home six years ago.”
“That would make you twenty years of age.”
“You are correct,” she said. “I had my birthday last month. How old are you?”
“Too old.”
She grinned. “It is not fair you know my age and I do not know yours.”
He cast her a sidelong glance. “I am much older than you.”
“How much older?”
“Thirteen years.” When she began to count her fingers, slowly, he laughed. “I have seen thirty-three years.”
“God’s Bones,” she said, shaking her head. “Are you truly so old? Why have you not married before now, Mathias?”
“Who says that I have not?”
“Have you?”
He snorted. “Nay,” he said. “I was betrothed once but she found a better prospect.”
The truth was that he had been betrothed to the Lady Lucy de Geneville, a niece of the Lady Joan, Roger Mortimer’s wife.
But that betrothal had been quickly dissolved when Roger had been captured and anyone associated with him dishonored.
He didn’t particularly care about it, although Lucy had been devastated.
For some reason, she had fallen in love with him.
He still remembered her tears when everything fell apart.
Looking at Cathlina, for the first time in his life he was coming to understand, however small, the disappointment Lucy must have felt.
To be separated from the person you so desperately want… .
“Impossible,” Cathlina cut into his thoughts. “There is no better prospect than you. Why, you are a successful craftsman with a thriving business. I would think any young lady would be honored to be your betrothed.”
He gave her a half-smile, humble, but his eyes were on the knights that had now drawn much closer. In fact, they began to race towards them down the road, kicking up rocks and dirt, and the line of eight or ten men-at-arms behind them were also beginning to gallop. Mathias went on his guard.
“My lady,” he said, holding a hand out to her and trying to remain calm. “Come to me. I would have you get on my horse and ride with me.”
By this time, Cathlina saw the horses racing towards them and she was frightened. Dutifully, she directed her palfrey over to him and he took the reins to hold the horse steady.
“Those men?” she said, reaching over to pull herself onto his horse. “Who are they?”