Warrior's Moon A Love Story (4 page)

With a nod Peyton said, “’Tis a pity he never had a wife and family.  My father said he devoted the best of his life to preserving our safety and that of the kingdom of Monciere.  That’s probably why he never got married.  Felt he was too old or something by then.”

Enthusiastically Chantaya said, “Well, we can be his family.  I brought a carrot for his old Wallace horse and I even brought Sir Mordecai some honey cakes.  I’ll bet he never gets many sweets without a wife to care for him.”

Peyton laughed and ruffled her hair.  “I’ll bet you’re right.  At least not ones that taste as good as yours, Chani.  Come.  Let’s be heading to Sir Mordecai’s then.  But, I don’t think we should tell our parents.  I think your mother would worry and our grandmother would come apart at the seams.  Our father’s mother hates anything to do with the idea of knights and battle.  I don’t think our parents would mind, but if we don’t mention it, they won’t have to answer to her.  Let’s just go and keep it to ourselves.”  She skipped up beside him, then took his hand and wrapped her other arm round Tristan’s waist as they headed deeper into the woods.

When Sir Mordecai opened the door to their knock, they all three were more than a little bit nervous.  He must have been able to see that as he gave them a smile that crinkled the sides of his eyes and made him much less intimidating.  Peyton was the one who volunteered the reason for their visit.  “We’ve come to thank you properly, sir.  You left so soon the other night that we neglected to do so, but we truly are grateful.  Truly.  Sir.”

Sir Mordecai nodded as Chantaya added happily, “I brought a carrot for Wallace, Sir.  And some lovely honey cakes.  I made them myself for you.  I’m only nine, but I truly can cook.  Try them, you’ll see.”

“Can you now?  I believe that you can from the looks of you.  They do smell good.  And Wallace is a fair hog for carrots, he is.  Spoiled rotten for them.  Although they still don’t make him gain much fat on his ribs.  He’s old now, poor ancient beggar.  And he’s aging faster even than his old master.  ‘Tis sad I’ll be to see him go, when it’s time.  He’s been a good campaigner.  Brave and true ever.”

The four of them headed toward the old horse with Chantaya skipping ahead and Peyton said, “Our father told us you were once one of the greatest knights of the kingdom of Monciere.  A legend, he said.  He said you were nigh to be the reason the whole kingdom didn’t fall when some old Lord Argyle tried to overthrow the king.”

Sir Mordecai chuckled and said quietly, “Your father exaggerates.  The king had things well in hand, I’m sure. 
But ‘twas good that he had those of us of the council and the soldiers to back him.  It’s important to stand for what is right and fair.”

Peyton nodded.  “’Tis exactly what our father says.  He was once asked to be a page, you know.  His mother near expired just at the thought of it and he finally gave up trying to convince her.  Lord Broughton chose someone else instead, but I think Father has always regretted that deeply.  He would have made a fine warrior.  He’s a good man, Father is.”

They stopped at the old horse and Chantaya fed him her carrot as Sir Mordecai said, “He seemed a good man.  And hard it is to go against a loving mother’s wishes when you’re but a lad.  What did he end up doing?  Your father?”

“He’s a thatcher.  And a fine one.  But his heart was always far away with the soldiers.  At least that’s what Mum always says.  She says his mother stole his life’s dream from him and that that is a thing to be regretted.  Squelching a man’s passion she calls it.  Mother has always said that, although she loves having him home and safe, she’d rather have him truly happy.”

Again Mordecai’s eyes crinkled.  “She sounds to be a good woman as well.  Although, I’d wager your father is happy as a thatcher with fine sons and a loving wife.”

“He is.  But there are times when they speak of what is happening with Lord Rosskeene and young Master
Rosskeene and of the importance of having honor when one also has authority.  I believe they worry about the future in the hands of the spoiled young master.  He tries to gain riches by raising the taxes instead of raising the hopes of those on his lands.  My parents say he doesn’t understand that what gives his tenants the passion to try harder is the hope of a better future.  They say Lord Rosskeene would be far wealthier if he only helped his folks succeed, instead of discouraging them.  It’s those times that my parents reflect on whether Father’s personal safety was more important than going to battle for right.”

Sir Mordecai looked away toward the horizon for a moment, then said quietly, “We all must do that which we feel is best.  That’s the truth of it.  And who is to say what is correct?  But we must be true to ourselves or live with the regrets.  And in life there will always be some regrets, no matter which course we choose.  Hopefully, we just have to live with the lesser regrets.”

The two younger children had gone to pick handfuls of grass for the horse and Peyton looked up into the old man’s eyes and nodded thoughtfully, wondering just what the old knight was saying with that far-off look in his eyes.  Still, he was right.  Even as young as he was, Peyton knew he was right.  A man had to stand for his beliefs or there would be huge regrets.  He knew ‘twas true for his own father.    

They didn’t stay long.  Then they walked back through the woods to their fort again with Chantaya bouncing along beside the boys, happy at how much Sir Mordecai seemed to have enjoyed her honey cakes, and Peyton more thoughtful beside her, wondering if they could go back again and visit with the intriguing old knight.  Peyton had a million
questions to ask and Sir Mordecai probably had a life’s worth of fascinating stories to tell.

             
                                        
 
SSSS

It had been more than six years since the stormy night of the cart accident had brought the Kincraigs to the village of Navarre, but still, there were occasions when a stranger would drop by the weathered old tavern to casually inquire about what had happened to the Kincraig woman. 

Invariably, the word would get back to Isabella and she and Chantaya would leave the little cottage and go stay in a small cave back in the forest for a couple of days until the stranger had been seen to leave town.  At first, Chantaya hated staying in the cave, even though her mother had blankets and had brought food enough to keep them comfortable.  The cave smelled of bears and they could hear the cry of wolves as they sat by their fire at night.  Chantaya was always frightened. 

Finally, her mother tried to turn these occasional trips into an adventure and would tell Chantaya stories of a young girl who was brave beyond measure and longed for the chance to travel into the forest to learn of what was outside the realm of her small home life.  When she told tales like that, Chantaya soon learned to enjoy the time spent away from the cottage and yearn for adventures like the stories.

‘Twas
during one of these nights away in the cave that her mother stroked her soft dark hair and spoke to her of how Chantaya was going to be a great beauty someday.  Her mother said it almost sadly and Chantaya wondered aloud what was wrong, “Why does that sadden you, Mother?  Peyton says I will look just like you and he thinks that will be a wonderful thing.  He says you are uncommonly beautiful.  Is it not a good thing?  To be lovely?”

Her mother sighed again, although she smiled as she touched Chantaya’s long, silken curls.  “No, darling, it’s a very fine thing to be uncommonly beautiful.  And you truly are.  ‘Tis just that I worry as well, Chantaya.  Sometimes beauty attracts the attention of those who feel they are more powerful than our society.  Sometimes being noticed isn’t purely a good thing.”

Chantaya looked to her in confusion.  “What do you mean, Mother?”

Shaking her head, her mother said, “Nothing sweet one.  You are far too young to worry about things like this.  Shall we braid your hair up?  And pull it out of the way?  It will keep it from tangling into the bushes near the stream when we pick the mustard.”

“You may pull it back if you wish, Mother, but it won’t stay.  You know that.  As I gather the herbs, it sometimes snags on the branchlets and tendrils pull loose until there are curls dangling all about my face and neck.  It happens every time.  Peyton laughs and pulls them like they are springs until sometimes I fairly want to whack him.  He pure torments me sometimes.  Tristan as well, but not near so as Peyton.  If he didn’t smile and help me every time, I’m sure I would be sore vexed.”

Her mother only smiled and said, “All boys are like that I’m afraid, daughter.  And the fact that you are uncommonly lovely only makes you more fun to tease, I fear.  You’ll have to get used to it and learn to ignore it somehow.  It’s only bound to become worse as time goes on.  At least it’s all in good spirits.  I’m afraid that in time, the young ladies will
become jealous and their teasing won’t all be fun spirited.  Sadly, sometimes we women can be treacherous.”

“What do you mean, treacherous, Mother?”

Isabella Kincraig only waved a hand and stood to add another log to their small fire.  “It’s nothing, child.  Simply another one of those things you are far too young to consider.  Come have some stew.  It looks to be ready now.”

“It smells wonderful, Mother.”  She came to stand beside the fire as well and put a hand on her mother’s shoulder where she bent to stir.  “I’m so lucky to have such a fine cook for a mum.  The boys fair do my bidding for food when they come.”

“And you’re nigh as fine a cook as I am, even at your tender age, Chan.  ‘Twill come in handy in your lifetime, it will.  Many’s the time that sumptuous fare has been a means to a good end.  It’s not just boys who will learn to barter for a taste.  Your father once bargained for a fine new horse if I would provide tarts to the master for the birthday celebration of the dowager aunt.  My, but your father was proud of that horse.  And he looked near as handsome as a bold knight sitting upon it, he did.”  Her mother had a far off look upon her face that made Chantaya hesitate to intrude on her mother’s pondering.

Finally, Isabella seemed to bring her thoughts back to the present and offered what she had dished.  Chantaya accepted the wooden bowl of the stew from her mother and asked, “Do you still miss him?”  Her mother nodded wordlessly, and softly Chantaya added, “Shall I pray, Mama?”

Nodding again, her mother bowed her own head as Chantaya said a short grace and then quietly began to eat, wishing there was a way to ease that soul deep loneliness she could see in her mother’s eyes and that Chantaya could remember more of her father.  The only thing she could truly remember was that he had been so tall and dark and such a very gentle man.  ‘Twas a pity her memory was so hazy.

                                                      
 
SSSS

Peyton finished unloading the reeds he’d delivered to where his father was working on one of the roofs of the village.  He lifted several bundles up the ladder onto the roof for him, before climbing back onto the cart to go to the edge of the marsh south of town, to cut another load.  As he went to slap the reins onto the cart horse’s rump, his father called down from the roof, “That’s fair enough to finish this one, Peyton.  Go on home and find yourself some mischief.  You’ve been a great help today.  Thank you.”

Nodding, Peyton turned the gentle horse for home and glanced at the sky.  Might be there was time enough to go visit Sir Mordecai.  He’d been wanting to get back to see the old knight for days now.  At home, he put the horse and cart away and stopped to speak to his mother a moment before walking off into the woods, knowing she assumed he was going to see Chantaya and Isabella.  He didn’t think she would mind him visiting the renowned knight and he set off through the woods at a brisk walk.

Sir Mordecai was sitting on the bench on his porch mending what looked to be the horse’s headstall when Peyton emerged from the depth of the forest.  The knight’s head was up and watching as Peyton stepped out and Peyton had no doubt the old knight had known he was coming long before he could see him.  His hair may have been nearly white, but he was as sharp and alert as a young man. 

Peyton wasn’t sure what to say to such a man of great legend.  He was infinitely glad for the kindly smile the old man gave as he saw him approach and said, “Ah, young Peyton.  What brings you so far into the woods of a fine day?  Could it be you knew that an old man needed a hand from a strong young man like yourself?” 
                 Returning the smile, Peyton said, “I only hope to someday have a portion of the strength that you have in but one of your limbs, Sir.  Are you truly in need of assistance?”

Sir Mordecai nodded.  “Aye.  Indeed.  In need of strength and agility and your youthfulness all around.  The wind has torn a portion of the thatching loose from the south corner there and I haven’t the skill and balance to repair it.  And old Wallace has fair knocked the gatepost awry with his scratching and although I’m the one who built it, I can’t both push it upright and hold it to secure it.  A brawny youth is just what I’m in need of.”

Peyton dropped to the bench beside the elderly man with a comfortable grin.  “Well, then pray let me have the honor of serving the legendary Sir Mordecai.  ‘Twould be an honor, Sir.”

The old man’s roof truly was in a bad way and Peyton was glad to climb up and repair the thatching just the way he often did beside his father.  It didn’t take but a few minutes, but he was sure the cottage would be far more water tight for his small efforts.