The Dark One: Dark Knight Read Free

Remington
said with bitterness.  “We will simply have to show him great respect and
obedience and pray he shows us some benevolence.  I know of naught else to do,
men; if any of you have suggestions, I am willing to listen.”
         The men looked to each other hesitantly,
waiting for someone brave enough to speak.  Yet it was painfully obvious that
no one was willing. Remington sighed, feeling their fear.
     “Be courageous, then,
and prepare the keep for his arrival,” she said. “I shall not have the Dark
Knight entering a shabby keep.”
         Disgruntled and bewildered, the men
disbanded to do as they were told.  Remington took old Oleg’s arm and together
they walked for the castle.
         “What are we to do, my lady?” Oleg asked. 
“Having the Dark One here will be far worse than Sir Guy.”
         Remington’s mouth tightened into a thin
line.  “Somehow I doubt that.  I have lived in hell for nine years, Oleg, and
cannot imagine this man will make my life any worse.”
         “You seem too willing to be complacent,”
Oleg commented.  “I know for a fact you have much more fight in you than you
are showing.”
         Remington shrugged.  “What good will it
do?  I could, conceivably, evacuate the castle.  But to where?  And for how
long?  Meanwhile, our people will starve and with winter approaching, they
would most likely freeze to death.  Nay, Oleg, I am convinced that there is no
use to run and hide.  We would escape right into our own deaths.”
         The old man bobbed his head in reluctant
agreement. “So we do nothing but prepare the keep for the man like a god
returned?”
         Remington paused at the entrance to the
keep, facing the frail old man who ran the castle so beautifully.  “I am afraid
so, Oleg,” she sighed. “I would not want to tweak the nose of the most feared
knight in all of England.”
         Oleg lifted his eyebrows in resignation. “I
fear for our future, my lady.  I have heard tales of this Dark One.  Some say
he is a stone statue come to night, only to be resurrected by the light of
dawn.”
         “Unless the man flies into the bailey with
the wings of a bat, I shall not give in to fear,” Remington smiled, trying to
alleviate the tension. “If he pulls a pitchfork from ‘neath his cloak, or
sprouts a speared tail, then I shall be a-feared. Otherwise, he is just a man
like all others.”
         Oleg shook his head with apprehension. “God
save us all.”
         Remington took his arm again. “We have much
to accomplish, you and I. ‘Tis best we get started.”
         “As you say, my lady,” Oleg mumbled as they
disappeared into the damp, cool innards of the castle.  “Your will shall be
done.”
         He did not sound as if he meant it.
     
                                              
             
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

 
     
     
     
    CHAPTER TWO
     
         He wasn’t merely big; he was monstrous. He
wasn’t simply dark in color, but dark to the very bone.  Descended from the
Normans on his father’s side granted him that inheritance, but his mother was
Welsh and he bore the dark gray eyes of the Welsh.  To look at him was to look
into the darkness that was in every man.
         It did not help matters that he dressed
entirely in black. There was no other color as far as he was concerned.  Men
who wore colors were undeserving of male parts. He was disgusted with knights
who were intent on gaily decorating themselves in brilliant hues; they might as
well have turned in their spurs and donned a dress.  Even his banner, a massive
bird of prey clutching a lion in one claw and a mighty sword in the other, was
entirely in black, gray, and white. But that’s what Gaston’s life was - it was
either black, or it was white. There was no in between.
         Which was why he betrayed his king. Oh,