The king's forest was very green and cool, full of the rustling sounds of animals hiding from the human intruder that trod upon their grounds. The birdsong seemed even more melodious than normal today, as if their song was for her and her alone. Keelin had always found that a walk through the forest soothed her soul and she had escaped to it as much as possible when she had lived with Mordrid. Those walks had been few, but she had always cherished them.
She walked through the sun-dappled mystery of the forest, feeling as if the weight of the world was being lifted from her shoulders. It was a Sunday and, once the church services were over, Keelin had plunged herself with great enthusiasm into the royal forest that beckoned a short distance from the back wall of the castle. As always, she found that immersing herself in the forest erased all of her troubles from her mind. Many of the happiest moments of her life had been spent wandering the forest.
Keelin flung her arms out to her sides and tilted her head back, as if she could drink in the sight, sounds, and smells of the forest. She twirled around once, allowing the joy of the moment to overtake her. When she pictured heaven, she always pictured a vast and verdant forest, such as that belonging to the king.
She was so lost in the moment that she almost did not hear the sound of another human being just ahead of her. She caught the sound just before she stumbled upon the other person, composing herself swiftly so as not to be seen exhibiting any sort of impropriety. Keelin knew that she should be wary, but she never felt any fear when she was in her precious forest. She felt almost as if the trees would reach out to embrace her protectively if she ever faced any danger within their realm.
Another step and she ran flush into the other human being who had been enjoying the solitude of the forest. All of her breath rushed out of her in a whoosh when she saw who the other wandered was. She dropped swiftly to her knee, bowing low before him.
"Good morrow, Your Highness," she murmured.
He seemed almost as taken aback as she was. "Good morrow, Mistress." He was dressed very casually in a simple, blousy shirt that was tucked into tight breeches, a leather jerkin, and a simple but beautifully crafted brown cloak. He wore tall brown leather boots and had his vibrant hair pulled back and tied with a brown leather thong at the nape of his neck. An awkward moment passed between the two of them before he seemed to collect himself. "Pray, rise up from the ground. I do not wish you to stand on ceremony here."
"As Your Highness wishes," she replied, keeping her eyes respectfully lowered, her hands demurely folded in front of her. Her heart pounded in her chest and she felt strangely lightheaded. 'What is wrong with me?' she wondered.
"What brings you to the forest?" he asked her. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her and it made her cheeks blaze until she longed to lay them on the cool moss that covered the surface of the tree to her left.
"I always find peace and refuge in the forest," she answered quietly. "I stroll in it as often as possible." Timidly, she raised her eyes to his and met his gaze.
He frowned at her. "You should not be wandering about the forest on your own. 'Tis dangerous. What if..." He left the question dangling on the breeze, but Keelin knew exactly what he meant.
"Is it not as dangerous for Your Highness to be in the forest alone?" she blurted. Her cheeks flamed once again and she began to wish that the ground would open up beneath her feet and swallow her whole.
To her vast relief, the prince answered her inquiry with a smile before he spoke. "I can see that I am equally matched in this battle of the wits. I believe that I must award the last point to you, Mistress. It certainly is not the best of ideas for me to be wandering about the forest on my own either, but I must claim the next point in pointing out to you that I, at least, am armed." With these words, his right hand briefly closed upon the hilt of the sword that he wore at his hip. It was elaborately worked, bearing an intricate motif of vines and game with the royal crest of the lion in the middle. Still, she knew that this was no mere show sword. The prince was a man who knew how to fight and whose feats on the battlefield had been very heroic.
"I also am armed, although not as well as Your Highness," she answered, pulling her dagger from its concealed sheath at her waist.
"I see," he answered. "And do you know how to defend yourself with that dagger?"
"I do not know," she admitted. "I have never used it but I have always carried it with me thinking it might offer me some form of protection against my former master." Once again she spoke without thinking and once again she felt humiliated in front of the prince.
His jovial expression hardened. "What sort of kingdom is this in which a woman feels she must carry a dagger in order to protect her virtue?" His face looked stormy and Keelin could see that he took his words very seriously. This was obviously a man who passionately believed in the code of chivalry.
She smiled tentatively at him, wanting to chide him out of his gloomy mood. "It is the sort of kingdom in which women have the comfort of knowing that we have many great men who are willing to risk their own safety in order to protect ours."
"That is the most glorious cause for any man. There is nothing greater than for him to defend the virtue of a woman." The prince's gaze was intense as he spoke these words and Keelin knew that she could not bear much more of this sort of interchange. It reminded her too much of his promise to her on the day before, that Mordrid would have to come through him to get to her.
"Forgive me, Your Highness, for distracting you with my idle chatter. I am certain that you have matters of great importance to attend to and I thank Your Highness for graciously sparing a moment of time to converse with me," she said, feeling flustered.
The prince studied her for a moment. "You are a most proper maiden," he observed. "And you are correct, I do have a matter of great importance to attend to, but you did not distract me and your chatter was most decidedly not idle. I chose to speak with you of my own accord and in so doing I find that I am only reconfirming what I have suspected of you."
"And what is that?" Keelin asked, her throat suddenly dry.
"That you are a woman of great character and intelligence." He said the words simply, without any sort of silly flourish and Keelin received them as the high compliment they were meant to be.
"Your Highness is most kind," she replied, staring at the ground as she felt herself go scarlet. "'Twas the generous and patient teachings of my former mistress that helped me to form my own imperfect thoughts. My mistress was a woman possessed of far greater intelligence and propriety than I have or will ever posses."
"Your mistress must have been a most remarkable woman, for I see that she taught you well."
Keelin did not trust herself to respond to yet another of his compliments, so she merely inclined her head to him to show him her gratitude. She hoped that he would recognize her bashful gesture for what it was, a substitute for the fine words of thanks she should have spoken to him.
Several moments of silence passed as the prince continued to study her. At last, Keelin glanced up at him, caught his eye, and then quickly glanced away.
"You are a most remarkable woman," he said, suddenly. And then, just as suddenly, "Pray, allow me to say my farewells. My father awaits me."
"Fare thee well, Your Highness," she replied, bowing to him once more. "I thank you for your great kindness to me. I am forever in Your Highness's debt."
"The debt belongs to none but me," he replied and then he was gone as swiftly as he had come.
As soon as he was out of sight, Keelin gave in to her trembling knees and sagged against the nearest tree, allowing it to prop her up instead of her own two extremely wobbly legs. She felt almost as if the encounter in forest had been a sort of strange, beautiful dream. The prince's comments to her had been so kind but so cryptic that she did not know what to make of them. What could all of it mean?
'And you think that you do not fancy yourself his equal,' scoffed the voice in her mind. For once, she listened to it. She knew that it was right. She was trodding on dangerous ground and needed to see to it that she did all she could to banish her fantasies before they got her into serious trouble.
*****
Rhain felt extremely unsettled as he walked away from Keelin. He too had come to the forest seeking refuge, but now found that his thoughts were far more turbulent than they had been earlier. He did not know what to make of the whole encounter, did not know what to make of his own strange and unfamiliar emotions.
He had been awake most of the night, talking with his father and planning strategies. His mother had been nearly sick with worry and the two men had eventually had to banish her from the chamber. Once she was gone, Rhain noticed how old his father looked. Every line in his face stood out in stark relief. He knew that there would be no peace until Mordrid had been found and held in check. The air in the castle was thick with barely controlled tension.
Rhain had attended private services with his family in the castle's royal chapel that morning. He had felt almost numb with fatigue, but as he sat through the sermon, he had begun to feel as though he would jump out of his skin. He knew that as soon as the priest was done speaking he would flee straight for the forest. Spending a short amount of time there was sure to quiet his turbulent mind.
The strategy had worked for a while. As he strode through the forest smelling its earthy scent and listening to the song of the birds, he had felt as though his troubles were being erased. He had begun to enjoy a few moments of peace for the first time in weeks when he ran into Keelin.
He had been completely taken aback by the sight of her. It was the first time since he had rescued her that he had ever seen her in anything other than her bland servant's gown and sensible little cap. He found the change in her appearance remarkable.
He had noticed that she was lovely, but had never seen the full extent of her beauty. She wore a peasant's garb of a white frilled chemise with a tightly laced bodice of pale blue linen over the top. She wore two skirts, as was popular with the peasants. The hem of an underskirt of a vibrant shade of blue peeked out from the overskirt of pale blue linen that matched her bodice. The outfit enhanced the soft curves of her body while also emphasizing its fragile delicateness. Her hair was braided at the sides and tied in the back with a leather thong, but the bulk of it hung loose, tumbling in luxurious golden curls down to her waist. Her pale, luminous skin was marred only by the traces of bruises that remained. She was, in a word, beautiful.
For once, he was glad that she immediately fell into a low bow before him. He had felt a lurching in the pit of his stomach and was sure that the expression on his face would have told more than he wished it to tell. He had never seen a being so heart-stoppingly lovely. She looked for all the world as if she were an angel somehow tumbled down to Earth. He was shocked by a powerful, nearly all-consuming urge to reach out and touch her gilded hair. It was all he could do to restrain himself.
He was extremely confused. He knew that other men might name his sensations desire and that they would pursue the woman who inspired the sensations until their thirst was slaked. However, the prince was not a man who had had many women. He had never really found one that could hold his interest, whom he felt was his equal. So, for lack of an adequate partner, he had convinced himself that he had no need of a woman for the time being. He knew that when he was king someday he would need a wife in order to produce an heir to the throne, but he had always told himself that someday the right woman would come along. In light of this, he could not understand what he was feeling inside. He was not the sort of man to feel desire for a woman simply because of a pretty face and a nice figure, so that could not be what he was experiencing with this woman. Still, she could not possibly be the right woman for him. He barely knew her and, to make matters worse, she was a servant. Even if he were so inclined, a union between them would never be acceptable.
The prince found that these emotions were simply too confusing to be dealt with and so he swept them aside. Once the affair with Mordrid was settled, he and the servant would not find themselves thrown together so often and the prince could forget about her. Until then, he would have to learn to simply look upon her as one of his faithful subjects. They could never form a closer relationship than that. Of that, he was convinced.
That decision made, he picked up his pace and made his way to the castle. He had to get back to his father, to see if any new information had been delivered. He was also to begin training with the knights and soldiers that afternoon and he knew that it would be a long and exhausting day. In spite of his hatred for Mordrid, he had to admit that the man had been the cause of one great thing in the prince's life: he had ended the visit by Spain. No further mention of a marriage between Rhain and the princess of Spain was made and for that Rhain was extremely grateful. It now appeared that she was to marry a German prince and that her father had no hard feelings against the English after all. The prince could not help but smile at the thought. The Spanish princess was one woman who most certainly would never be his wife. She was severely lacking in intelligence and did not posses any propriety to speak of that would help make up for that lack. Far better another man find himself chained to her for life than Rhain.
He reached the castle walls and went promptly to his father's study. He was glad to see that his mother was absent. Rhain felt that this whole affair was far too upsetting for her and he would prefer that she not be present in case there was any bad news to be had. However, he quickly found that there was no news at all. As he opened his mouth to speak, his father shook his head grimly.
"There is nothing yet, my son," he said. "We have talked all we can on the subject thus far. Go and train with your men. Help them to prepare themselves for a great crisis."
"I will, father," Rhain replied. "You know that they are the finest men in all of England and they will all willingly give their lives to protect your throne."
"Of that I have no doubt," the king replied. "I know we have always had our differences, but I want you to know that, as both a warrior and a man, you have made me very proud. I feel at peace because I am certain that you will make a fine king someday."
"Thank you, father," Rhain said, very seriously, knowing the words had likely been very difficult for his father. "Your words do me an honor that I do not deserve. We have had our differences, but I wish I had aspired to be more like you in your treatment of your people. No king has ever treated his subjects better and 'tis of no wonder that your people so revere you."
The king took the compliment with grave dignity. "I thank you. Mark these words, my son. Many kings concern themselves with gold or with winning wars, thinking that these are the paths to glory and a prosperous and peaceful kingdom. I have come to understand that everything begins and ends with my people. They are the lifeblood of the kingdom and 'tis to them that I owe my attention. 'Tis dangerous for a king to overlook his people."
Rhain perfectly understood what his father was saying. "Then you should have no fear," he replied. "You have legions of fine, loyal knights willing to lay their lives down for you and you have a kingdom full of subjects who would never bow to anyone who attempted to overtake your throne."
"That is my hope," was the king's only reply.
Rhain left the man alone with his thoughts and headed out into the training courtyard to meet with his men. He was pleased to see that they were all hard at work under the direction of Edwyn. They all stopped what they were doing and bowed before him, including Edwyn.
"What is Your Highness's wish?" Edwyn asked, neatly turning the reins over to Rhain.
"'Tis my wish to speak with my men," Rhain answered. "Thank you for your great service, Sir Edwyn."
The other man bowed and moved away from Rhain, joining the rest of the men. The prince surveyed the crowd and felt a surge of pride and of fierce loyalty. These battle-scarred men had fought valiantly alongside him many a time. All he need do was say the word and they would fight alongside him once more. The feeling was overwhelming, making Rhain realize just how fortunate he was.
"As you know, an insidious threat against our homeland has been discovered. The villainous former Earl, who was stripped of his title and land and banished because he committed high treason against his king, has fled to his friends in France. His friends are many and powerful and they have the wealth and influence necessary to threaten our realm. We cannot sit back and allow them to steal it out from under our noses. We must be prepared for an invasion and we must be prepared to offer our lives for the safety and protection of our kingdom. We shall send the demon Mordrid to hell, where he belongs," the prince spoke, his voice carrying over the crowd. He was a gifted orator, able to make speeches that easily inspired the most disinterested of men. A roar rippled through the crowd and Rhain smiled at them.
"Friends, I look forward to once again fighting alongside you. For now, we must train ourselves; discipline ourselves, so that we may show the French what happens to any man who dares to threaten England." With that, the prince's speech was over and the training began. He stripped out of his jerkin and promptly joined in.
*****
The women of the sewing chamber had a new assignment. For the time being, gone were the linens and gowns that they had been embroidering. They had now set to work on banners and surcoats for the knights. Keelin had the special privilege of stitching the surcoat that was to be worn by the prince. It was to be made of the finest red velvet and, using thread of gold, she was to stitch the royal crest of a lion rearing on his hind legs, showing the claws of his front paws and opening his maw as if in a great roar. This news had been delivered to Keelin as soon as she had returned from her disconcerting walk in the forest.
She stroked the fabric reverently for a moment, wondering at its rich and luxurious texture. She had never stitched on anything finer than linen and wool. The contrast between these materials and the velvet only served to further widen the chasm that lay between her and the prince. She made a vow to herself that each stitch she made would be done with a careful reverence, that she would remind herself with every stroke of the needle that this was the surcoat to be worn by the prince not only in defense of England, but also in defense of her personally.
Keelin did not, of course, tell any of the other women of the vows of the prince, not even Alinda. She still feared that they would turn against her, that they might think she was trying to equate herself with royalty. She was also afraid that they would laugh at her, that they would not believe her claims. Keelin knew that if someone such as herself were to make the same claims to her she would not believe them. More than anything else, however, she did not tell them because she was certain that his vows did not mean anything. She was convinced that the prince had merely spoken out of the passion of the moment. When it came right down to it, the prince could not be allowed to risk his life for hers. His life was far more valuable than hers would ever be.
As she sewed, Keelin said prayers, hoping that she could infuse each stitch with the power of her pleas to God for the prince's protection. She was certain that Alinda was doing the same, although her interests were not as personal as those of Keelin.
"Do you really think it possible that there could be a war?" she asked Keelin that night, after they had finished their day's work. The two of them were huddled in a corner of the chamber that all of the sewing women shared, seated on their straw pallets. Both women wore long, white nightgowns. Alinda drew her knees up under hers, hugging them to her chest. Her long, raven braid tumbled over her left shoulder.
"Aye, I am afraid I do," Keelin said, speaking softly but bluntly. She pulled a comb as gently as she could through her tangled curls until they were free of knots. She then seated herself in front of Alinda who divided the hair and began to braid it.
"You honestly think the former earl hates His Majesty as much as that?" Alinda asked, her voice both incredulous and fearful, incredulous that anyone could dare to defy the king and fearful that it might actually happen.
"He has no loyalty to anyone but himself," Keelin said, staring off into space as she spoke. She felt almost as if her soul was separate from her body, as if it were watching the worried posture of her body with an air of detachment. "He hates that the king would offend his sense of honor."
"What a loathsome man! How brave you are for having survived a life as his servant and how fortunate 'tis that you are now safe from him!" Alinda breathed.
"I shall never be safe from him until he is no more. 'Tis only his death that will set me free," Keelin replied. She could feel Alinda's hands go still with shock and she decided that she had better explain further. "'Tis not that I do not believe that the king will protect me. 'Tis merely that I know that my former master hates me above all other beings. I am certain that he sees me as a witch who was responsible for his undoing. He will do all he can to exact his vengeance upon me."
Alinda seemed uncertain and Keelin could feel the vague trembling of the other woman's hands as she continued with her work on Keelin's hair. Finally, she spoke, "He is more than loathsome, then. He is evil."
"Aye, I fear he may very well be," Keelin sighed.
"You are safe here. He could not possibly get to you," Alinda insisted stubbornly.
Not wanting to worry her friend any further, Keelin decided to humor her. "Aye, there is no place safer in all the kingdom than in the heart of His Majesty's own castle."
Keelin could hear Alinda expel a nearly inaudible sigh of relief. "That is true," she said. Her hands grew steadier and she worked them through Keelin's hair rapidly. "There, I am finished."
Keelin touched a hand to her head, feeling the neat and tightly woven braid. "Thank you," she said. She turned to face her friend, looking her in the eye with a serious expression. "How fortunate I am to have you as a friend."
Alinda smiled gently. "'Tis I who am fortunate. How alike we are! 'Tis almost as though we are sisters."
Keelin smiled back and took the other woman's hand. "Sisters for all time?" she asked.
"Nothing shall ever part us," Alinda answered. The two women clasped hands briefly and then Alinda straightened her legs out. "Come now, 'tis time for sleep. We will ruin our eyes staring in the darkness and we have much work to do yet."
"Indeed. We must be well rested so that our fingers might fly as quickly as possible. Good night, Alinda." Keelin moved from her friend's pallet and onto her own, stretching her body out with a sigh.
"Good night," Alinda answered, her voice muffled because she was lying on her side, facing away from her friend.
Keelin lay upon her pallet and felt a great weariness overtake her limbs, but still she could not sleep. The chamber grew very quiet, occasionally punctuated by the soft snoring of one of the other women or the sound of a rodent scurrying around behind the walls. The chamber was as black as pitch, but Keelin could see a silvery light filtering in through one of the window slits. Sighing in defeat, she rose from her pallet and wandered over to it, gazing out at the night.
Her mind would not be quiet. It was turbulent with many unspoken fears of her former master, concerns for the safety of England, and unnamed emotions inspired by its prince. At least Keelin knew where she stood with the other two matters. She still did not understand what her confused emotions over the prince meant. She was not sure that she wanted to know.
She longed to change into her peasant garb and flee the walls of the castle in favor of the sanctuary of the forest. Realistically, though, she realized that the forest was no longer a sanctuary. It was filled with unspoken dangers now that her former master was on the loose. She should remain within the castle walls, a prisoner to the unholy cruelty of the man she had once served.
Keelin gazed at the moon as her mind filled with thoughts. She could not help but wonder what her purpose was. She had enjoyed times of love and happiness and then borne years of cruelty and fear, but she had never once wondered what she was meant to do on Earth. Now she could not help but wonder. She had been saved from her cruel master at the expense of England's safety and now she was having thoughts about a prince that she had no right to think. She should have married a house servant and lived out her life doing chores for the earl, not enjoying the privilege of consorting with royalty.
She remained at the window for a long time, until her exhausted body finally began to sway, threatening to leave her sprawled on the cold stone floor. She crept back to her pallet, crawling under her blanket. Its warmth did nothing to stave off the uncontrollable shivering that overcame her. Even as she fell into sleep, she knew she would not get any rest. There were too many black images running through her mind.
