Chapter 2 #2
The following day, Cillian and I were having our morning coffee when the sound of hooves across the cobblestones caught our attention.
We walked to the front of the forge, where we could see the street better.
Soldiers wearing full armour and red capes marched out of the fortress gates and onto the street.
People on their way to set up for the market stepped back to make room for the imposing soldiers, while others followed behind them into the city square, chattering excitedly.
Cillian looked at me with a raised brow, and I nodded at his unspoken question, my curiosity getting the better of me.
A sizeable crowd had already gathered in the square, and we found a place somewhere in the middle to stand. Both of us were tall enough to see over the crowd to the soldiers lined up in formation. My gaze searched every uncovered face I could see.
Wearing helmets, two men in full captains’ uniforms were in front. Their horses stood motionless despite the noisy crowd surrounding them. Their armour was fitted flawlessly and crafted from steel instead of the more common and cheaper iron.
The captain on the left raised his hand, and the entire square of people went quiet.
He took off his helmet and tucked it under his arm.
He was young with a wavy mop of brown hair and pleasant hazel eyes.
The captain on the right removed his helmet next and revealed shiny dark hair and obsidian eyes.
The unusual scar that stretched across his left cheek was impossible to ignore.
I gasped desperately for air.
Memories of my mother, of that final journey we took that ended in her death, began to crush me.
It was as if I were lying helpless in a grave while the memories pressed down on me, choking me.
Every thought of that night filled my lungs like dirt, thick and suffocating, and I couldn’t move beneath the weight of it all.
It had been almost ten years since they had saved me from my fate and helped me escape into the river rapids, but I could still see the boys in the faces of the men underneath all their finery.
‘Are you okay?’ Cillian’s eyes roamed my profile.
‘I’m fine,’ I lied, not turning to look at him.
Instead, I kept my attention on the captain, hoping Cillian would too.
From the corner of my eye, I saw him frown, but he eventually looked away.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I listened to the young hazel-eyed captain begin to speak.
His voice was loud and firm as he addressed the gathered crowd.
‘Thank you all for having his Lordship and his children here in your fine city. Lord Warwick would like to invite you to a tournament in his ancestral home, the fortress of Murus.’
There was excited chatter and applause. When the crowd settled down, the dark-eyed captain with the intricate facial scar spoke loud and clear across the crowd.
‘Lord Warwick wishes this to be an open tournament. You will have the unique opportunity to test your skills against our trained soldiers.’
There was a cheer from a group of young men in the crowd. Others soon shushed their enthusiasm as everyone strained to hear more.
The dark-eyed captain surveyed the crowd, his gaze resting momentarily on me. I held my breath until his attention moved to the rest of the crowd.
‘Our winner will be given the honour of being a personal guard in Lord Warwick’s household.’ He effortlessly held the crowd’s attention. ‘The tournament will commence in one month.’
The hazel-eyed captain spoke once more. ‘Please ensure you read the conditions of entry and the rules of engagement.’
Their announcement was over, and there was a call to disperse. The soldiers took their leave in an orderly fashion and returned to the hill fortress, which we now knew was Lord Warwick’s ancestral home.
Several soldiers remained, passing out printed leaflets to the crowd. Cillian took one from a young soldier before gesturing for me to return to the forge with him. I followed behind him, my mind spinning at what I had just learned.
When we got inside, Cillian read out the conditions of entry, which included what a competitor was to wear and what weapons were required: a full suit of armour, a sword and a bow. This tournament would generate a lot of business for Cillian’s shop.
He passed the flyer to me, and I read through the rules of engagement myself. The challenge was to make the other contestant concede. There was no stipulation on what tactics were acceptable – only that all men must conduct themselves honourably.
‘Are you going to tell me what happened in the town square?’ Cillian asked, his voice calm and level.
‘What do you mean?’ I handed him back the flyer. He was far too observant.
‘You gasped when the captain removed his helmet, and then you went as pale as a sheet.’
I looked down at my feet and used the toe of my boot to push a scrap piece of iron into the packed earth.
Cillian took a step towards me, closing the gap between us. ‘Did he do something to you?’
‘No, it’s nothing like that.’
‘I’d like to think we’re friends, Caris,’ he said, lowering his voice. ‘You can tell me anything. Nothing will ever leave this room.’
I looked up to see his fair brows were drawn together.
‘He was there when my mother died.’
‘The captain?’
‘Yes. Both of them.’ I sat on the stool behind me, and Cillian took the one beside it. ‘There were two boys who helped me that night.’
‘I’ve been told I’m a good listener, and I know what it feels like to be buried under bad memories. Maybe talking about your mother’s death will help?’
Buried. Yes, that’s how I felt too.
He lifted his broad shoulder in a half-shrug. ‘How about you start by telling me about your parents?’
I turned on my stool until I faced him, our knees almost touching. ‘My mother and father weren’t my birth parents. I was abandoned as a baby, and they took me in as their own.’
Cillian touched his knees to mine, and I blinked back the moisture gathering in the corners of my eyes.
‘Are you sure you want to hear all this?’ I sighed but didn’t move. I liked the way his knees pressed against mine.
‘Yes. If it helps to take away a little of the sadness I see lurking behind your pretty eyes.’ He gave me a crooked smile.
Was my sadness apparent to everyone, or was Cillian more observant than most? I knew Cillian would be a good listener, and the longer I looked into his warm, open gaze, the more I wanted to unburden myself to him.