The Knight's Tale Read Free Page B

second woman was quite probably the most
beautiful woman Ridmark had ever seen. She was only a few years his
senior, clad in a rich green gown, with long red hair and brilliant
green eyes. Her features and skin were perfect, absolutely perfect.
Ridmark realized that he was staring at the stunning woman, and he
only managed to make himself stop with difficulty.
    “Sir Ridmark Arban,” said Thomas, clearing his
throat, “my father and lord of this village, Sir Hamus Cultran. His
wife and my stepmother the Lady Gwenaelle,” he gestured at the
stunning woman, “and her mother, the Lady Gotha.”
    Vaguely Ridmark wondered why on earth a woman like
Gwenaelle agreed to marry a man like Hamus. Perhaps she was a
commoner had seduced Hamus to improve her station in life? But
surely she could have captured the eye of a Comes, even a Dux.
    “Thomas!” said Lady Gotha, squinting at Ridmark. She
tottered forward, leaning on her cane. “Is that the man from the
village who delivers our bacon? The last batch was spoiled! Young
fellow, if you do not deliver my bacon, I shall beat you with my
cane.”
    “Mother,” murmured Gwenaelle, taking the old woman’s
sleeve, “that man is a Knight of the Soulblade and our guest.”
    “I know that, girl!” said Gotha. “And he sells us
questionable bacon!”
    Thomas’s mouth thinned with contempt as he looked at
his stepmother and her mother.
    “You are welcome here, Sir Ridmark,” said Hamus, his
voice weak and watery. “Your aid…your aid would be welcome. You are
here about the disappearances, yes? I do not to know what to think.
One man says one thing and I believe him, and then another says
something else and I believe him.”
    Thomas’s look of contempt did not waver as his gaze
turned to his father.
    “Thomas,” said Hamus, oblivious or indifferent to his
son’s glare, “take Sir Ridmark to my solar. I would speak with him
in private. Father Linus, headman Ulacht, you may wait here.”
    Thomas took Ridmark to the solar and then departed.
It was a comfortable room with stuffed chairs and polished wooden
tables, and the windows had a good view of the village and Rzoldur
upon its hill. There was a carafe of wine upon a sideboard, and
Ridmark reached for it…
    The door opened, and Ridmark looked up, expecting to
see Sir Hamus.
    Instead, Lady Gwenaelle glided alone into the
solar.
    Ridmark’s throat went dry, his world seeming to focus
upon her.
    “Do you know what it is like,” she said, her rich
voice full of pain, “being married to that indolent old fool? Of
having to share a bed with that fat slug?” She stepped closer, and
the smell of her perfume filled his nostrils.
    “My lady. We’re alone,” Ridmark said, “this is not
appropriate…”
    “I’ve dreamed of a knight coming to take me away from
all this,” said Gwenaelle, putting her delicate hands upon his
shoulders, the touch making his heartbeat hammer like a drum.
“Please, take me with you. Do you know how much I’ve wanted a man,
a real man, and not that pompous old fool?”
    Her lips parted as she leaned closer, about to kiss
Ridmark. His body screamed for him to seize her, to bury his hands
in that thick red hair and pull her close, to crush her slender
form against him as he pulled her out of that gown…
    Ridmark had enough wit left to realize that was a
very bad idea.
    “Ah,” Ridmark said, stepping back. He considered
pushing her away, but realized that if he touched her once he might
not be able to stop himself. “Yes. Very good. Well. My horse. I
need to see to my horse.”
    Gwenaelle frowned, puzzled. “But surely the grooms
can attend…”
    “No!” Ridmark said. “A true Knight of the Soulblade
does not entrust the care of his horse to another man. Otherwise
I’ll have to walk, and for a knight to walk is simply
undignified…”
    Ridmark realized that he was rambling, and he turned
and made for the great hall just short of a run. A nagging voice in
his head urged him to go back,