Chapter 9
Kallen enjoyed riding. It was everything Carrie promised when she’d fed the mare bits of an apple last night. She’d been afraid the horse would choke on its size, but Sir Rodger graciously offered to slice the fruit into small pieces.
Carrie had been delighted with her treat and eagerly passed word pictures to Kallen, showing her what it would be like to ride atop her.
Of course, the horse knew of Kallen’s inexperience and promised to trot gently at all times.
She especially agree to watch for any holes along the path.
Carrie revealed she had no fondness for the road.
She explained she would much rather run across the pasture at Mangeron, the wind causing her tail to shoot straight behind her.
Her sire resided in Mangeron’s stables, and Carrie shared with pride the knowledge that he oftentimes carried the master around the estate.
As they rode, Kallen took pleasure in her running conversation with Carrie and found herself relaxed as the miles of countryside passed by.
“You have taken to your horse as one born to the saddle, my lady,” Sir Griffith complimented. “Anyone who saw you would never suspect ‘tis your first day atop one.”
She smiled. “I give all the credit to Carrie. She’s of a sweet temperament.”
He returned her smile. “Unlike my Satan?” He stroked the horse’s neck as they rode. “Although I must say, my boy has been oddly well-behaved since we left the convent.”
“He might have been in need of a journey, my lord. He is probably the type of horse who feels bored if his life is too easy.”
The earl nodded. “Mayhap you are right. He has always risen to the challenge during battle. Much as many men I know.”
Kallen hesitated before asking him a question. She didn’t want a repeat performance from yesterday. “And you, my lord? Are you one for war, or do you prefer staying closer to home?”
A shadow crossed his face. The blue band surrounding him deepened in shade. “Once I was for the steady life, close to home. However, when the king calls, a knight must obey. I actually relish the challenges of war.”
A piece of the puzzle fell into place for her. The tragedy Griffith had suffered must have been one of family, possibly the death of someone very close to him. That was why the home fires no longer burned brightly for him.
Kallen changed the subject. “Are we far from Lord and Lady Percival’s estate? Is their castle as grand as that of Mangeron? How does my uncle know them?” She wrinkled her nose. “And however will they have enough to feed the dozen of us, unannounced as we are?”
Sir Griffith laughed. Kallen saw as he relaxed, the dark blue band receded.
“I have taken care of that and sent a rider ahead with a message that we soon arrive. As to feeding us? Well, my lady, you will be surprised how much food their banquet table will hold for a celebration.”
He raised a hand to shade his eyes. “I see my messenger returns. If you’ll excuse me.”
He lightly tapped Satan’s sides and darted ahead. Then he turned and peered over his shoulder at her, his white teeth gleaming in the sunlight. ”And, no, nothing compares to Mangeron,” he called out.
Kallen felt herself grow warm at that smile. She did have the oddest feelings when Sir Griffith was near. She watched as he spoke with the arriving rider, nodding a few times before returning to her side.
“All is well,” Griffith informed her. “Lord Percival cannot wait to be the first to entertain a relative of Crispin de Mangeron. It will be quite a coup for him.”
She felt herself blush. “Surely, he realizes I am no one important?”
“Nay, my lady, you are a de Mangeron. They fairly strut their importance to the world. If my sister had not married into the family, they could have made her an honorary de Mangeron, for she, too, can put on airs with the best of them.”
Kallen was unsure what he meant. He’d spoken fondly of both Crispin and Deva.
Sir Griffith must have seen her confusion. “I tease you, Lady Kallen. Have you never been teased?”
He smiled again, and her stomach turned upside down. She put her hand to it, trying to calm it.
“Are you all right?” he asked quickly. “Is the road too rough? Shall we slow our pace?”
She sensed the heat creep up her neck and spill onto her cheeks. “Nay, my lord. I suppose this teasing is simply too new for me to understand.”
The knight nodded. “I gather the nuns had no great sense of humor?”
“The only laughter I heard came from Savina and my mother, upon rare occasion. Mother Superior told me ‘twas a sin to laugh, that it showed my slovenliness and sinfulness. Savina, though, told me laughter was God’s gift to his angels, and they shared it with the humans on earth.”
“Your Savina sounds wiser to me by the minute. I hope that her new position as abbess will change the lives in that convent for the better.”
“You have no great love of nuns. Or the Church, for that matter, I gather.”
His face showed amazement at her perception. Kallen bit her lip to silence herself, yet she couldn’t help but believe she’d revealed what she had to show off to him a bit. Despite his own respect for authority, bands within his aura told her that respect did not extend to the Church.
That saddened Kallen. Despite the poor side of Christianity Mother Superior and most of the nuns had shown toward her, Kallen had always been steadfast in her belief in God and His kindness. Savina encouraged her in these beliefs, promising Kallen that she was special in God’s eyes.
She looked at him with sadness in her heart. “I hope one day you will come to love Our Lord. He is far more compassionate and giving than anyone on His earth.”
Griffith opened his mouth to speak and closed it. He’d almost growled at her, bad temper and all again, ready to tell her never to dictate to him, that he knew there was no God nor goodness in men, particularly those of the Church.
Yet how did Lady Kallen grasp his stance regarding the Church, especially since he kept such blasphemy to himself? Or how had she known the mare’s name without being told? He couldn’t remember an instance when it had been mentioned. What was it about her?
She hid something. Griffith was sure of that. He wondered if a night such as All Hallow’s Eve would reveal exactly what.
“Welcome to my home, Lady Kallen,” boomed the voice. “’Tis I, Lord Percival, here to greet you and your party of men.”
Kallen only stared in amazement at the nobleman, whose aura was a warm brown, indicating his steady, reliable nature. Her experience with men was exceedingly small, yet she imagined even this man’s great stature would surprise most who met him.
“And I share in his welcome, my lady.”
Kallen forced her eyes from the giant of a man and met those of her hostess.
Thank the Dear Lord the gray-haired woman before her was of a normal height.
The blue and green bands surrounding her blended into aquamarine.
Kallen thought the noblewoman one who would attract people that needed help and guidance.
“Lady Percival.” She bowed her head. “I am most happy to visit with you and your husband.”
Lady Percival slipped an arm through hers.
“See to her things, Bowman.” She gestured at a servant as she looked Kallen up and down.
“What you need is a hot bath and a change of clothes, my dear. Traveling—especially great distances—can be so miserable. Let’s see to your comfort and leave these men to their business. ”
As they strolled through the castle, Kallen marveled at its size and beauty.
“Your home is lovely, my lady,” she remarked. “I have not witnessed such grandeur before. Your staircase is the largest I’ve seen.”
Kallen cast her eyes toward the walls. “And all these tapestries. They are magnificent. I cannot imagine how long it took to weave them. This is truly the most beautiful home in all of England.”
“Ah, that’s because you have not seen Mangeron yet.” Lady Percival’s green eyes gleamed. “’Tis the grandest of homes. I’ve only seen it twice before, but that castle is a sight that truly stays with me.”
“I cannot imagine anything more beautiful than your home,” Kallen said truthfully.
“I thank you for your kind words. Now let us get you into a hot tub and wash that beautiful hair of yours. ‘Tis such an unusual color.” Lady Percival cocked her head to one side. “I’m trying to remember where I have seen it before.”
She led Kallen into a large room where servants filled a tub with steaming water.
“Pour in the lavender now,” their mistress instructed. She fussed over the servants until everything met with her expectations and then dismissed them.
“I shall help you myself,” the noblewoman shared. “We shall have ourselves a nice chat.”
Kallen soon found herself scrubbed from head to toe with the scented water.
Their chat consisted of Lady Percival telling Kallen all about herself and her husband, their tenants, and some of the evening’s activities.
Kallen merely nodded or murmured a word of encouragement every now and then.
Lady Percival was fully capable of conversing for the both of them.
“There now.” The noblewoman finished running a comb through the last of Kallen’s tangled strands. “I think a nap is in order once we’ve let your hair dry by the fire. The festivities will last late into the night. We want you to be awake to enjoy them all.
“Sir Griffith, too,” her hostess added with a smile. “A most charming man. When he wants to be.”
Kallen’s attention, which had wandered during the lady’s running monologue, returned.
“I thought hearing his name would bring you back around.”
Kallen blushed and combed her fingers through her hair. She retreated to stand in front of the fire.
“Don’t worry, my dear. I think most women are taken with Sir Griffith’s fine looks. He’s a bit of a loner, though. Has been ever since Carina passed on.”
“Who is Carina?” Kallen asked the question, but in her heart she already knew the answer.
“Why, you wouldn’t know, I’ll venture. All locked away in that convent, no news of your family or the outside world. Yes, I know you’re being returned to your family at Mangeron. That’s why you don’t know much about anything, I suppose.”
Kallen bit her tongue hard, making sure she wouldn’t speak rashly.
Lady Percival studied her a moment and then said, “Carina Sommersby was the earl’s young wife. Quite an acknowledged beauty. She died in childbirth, I’d say a good two years or so ago.”
“And the babe?” Kallen’s voice was a whisper.
“A boy, I recall. Dead, too, just as his mother was soon after delivering him. Sir Griffith has never been the same since his wife’s death.”
Kallen absorbed this information. It made sense—his deep bands of melancholia, the sudden anger that came and went if the conversation turned too personal.
She also knew loss. Bevia had died when Kallen was only ten, but she had been most of Kallen’s world.
Her heart went out to Sir Griffith, losing both his wife and his infant son.
“I’d best be seeing to your escort party now, my dear. Try and rest for tonight’s festivities. We are so honored to have you present for our celebration. ‘Tis sure I am that you’ll remember us to Lord and Lady de Mangeron once you arrive at your new home.”
Lady Percival left the room, and Kallen went to lie down. She closed the curtains about her, but sleep did not come.