Lord of the Blade (11 page)

His squire rode up next to him, sitting taller than
normal with a satisfied look painted across his face.

"Good job today, Delwynn." Corbett reached
from his horse to slap him on the back as the brave young man
rested his hand on his spear.

"I believe your presenting me with a new
spear had something to do with my fortunate luck," Delwynn returned
the compliment.

"Luck, nonsense! You brought down one of the
only two boars killed on this trip. You handled that weapon with
the expertise of any one of my knights."

The young man's eyes lit up at the mention
of the word knight.

"Keep acting like that," laughed Corbett,
"and I will have to find myself a new squire."

"Yes, my lord," Delwynn beamed excitedly,
knowing exactly what he meant.

"Now go start the fire and prepare my meal,
for as of today you're still my squire. The maidservant Devon will
help you."

"Right away, my lord." Delwynn hurried off
with a newfound energy.

"So your squire is now a skilled huntsman."
Malcomn rode up from behind.

"Delwynn is not the only one so skilled in
hunting," mentioned Corbett holding out his arm for his raven to
land.

Malcomn's chin raised proudly and Corbett
almost laughed. He must have thought he meant him. A few small
rabbits was naught to be praised for as far as Corbett was
concerned.

"It seems to me we owe great respect to my
raven. After all, it was the raven that flushed the fowl from the
thicket so we could take better aim."

Malcomn's face clouded as Corbett praised
his bird. "Well, I must say I have always wondered how raven would
taste as part of the meal."

Before Corbett could respond, the short
crisp calls of his bird interrupted as it left his arm,
alarmed.

"Stay at camp," Corbett ordered the red-haired man.
"The raven has spotted something and I am going to follow."

Corbett's black cloak trailed behind him in
the breeze as his steed raced through the wet, damp forest.

Now some way from the rest of his men,
Corbett dismounted his horse, spying a group of fallow deer in a
small clearing. The raven sat perched atop the branches of a dead
oak keeping watch. Slowly, Corbett spanned his crossbow,
positioning the bolt and silently cranking back the windlass so as
not to alert the deer of his presence. He aimed for the buck that
stood munching bark of a chestnut tree. Releasing the trigger, the
whiz of his bolt pierced the silence, heading toward its mark. With
the flash of white tails, the group of deer scattered quickly. The
buck staggered, then its legs folded under and he quickly dropped
to the ground.

Speedy but cautiously, Corbett approached
the corpse, knowing he had made a clean shot. Circling the large
rock that hid the buck from his view, he reached out his hand to
retrieve his bolt, only to find an arrow lodged in the deer’s flesh
as well. Spinning around, he quickly drew his sword, the tip of it
now touching Malcomn's chest.

"I surrender," sarcastically remarked
Malcomn, raising his hands in the air. He clutched his longbow in
one hand.

"You fool!" snapped Corbett. "Do you not
realize you could be lying next to the buck in the same condition
right now?"

Malcomn put his hands down slowly, the smile
disappearing from his face. "But I am not, now am I?" he answered
quietly.

"Never," warned Corbett, putting his sword
forcefully back into its sheath, "I repeat never, pull a stunt like
that again. The next time you may not be so lucky as to walk
away."

Ripping the arrow from the buck’s hide,
Corbett broke it in half and threw it to the ground. Retrieving his
bolt, he motioned for Malcomn to help him with the deer. "Make
yourself useful. 'Twill feel good to get back to camp and a warm
fire."

Later that night, the smell of roasted
pheasant and hare permeated the air as the smoke curled up from the
campfire, lightly drifting towards the darkened sky. Corbett threw
a scrap of meat to his raven as reward for its help in obtaining
the feast. He leaned against an oak, preferring to be away from the
rest. Or perhaps just Devon. He watched her serving wine to the
men, her eyes half-closed with exhaustion. He couldn’t deny his
feelings for her, but she was a mere servant, and he a noble. He
needed to forget about her. He had a wealthy nobleman bringing his
daughters to the castle soon. He would choose one for his wife.

The men had questioned the flattened bread
Devon served earlier, but Corbett had conveniently looked the other
way. After chewing on the sweetmeats that Heartha packed, the men
lazily lounged at the fire, reminiscing the hunt and the game they
had caught that day.

Corbett popped another of the dried fruits
into his mouth as he stared into the darkness, only half listening
to the conversations of his men. His raven fluttered to a high
branch in the tree overhead, and a frightened owl screeched forth a
warning as it took off into the night sky.

The harsh winter was nearing an end, and a
slight fog rolled in from the moors. Corbett knew spring was on its
way by the way his raven had faced the clouded sun that day.

Corbett told Devon to bring him another
serving of meat, and when she did, he motioned for her to sit
down.

“You’ve worked hard today, Devon. You’ve
served my men well.”

She looked up to him and handed him the
food, but he didn’t take it.

“I want
you
to eat it,” he said.

“My lord?” she asked with an edge to her
voice. “I thought servants were supposed to eat the scraps of their
nobles and only after the meal was over.”

“I’m willing to make an exception this time.
You need to eat, Devon.”

“I don’t understand the way you treat me,”
she said bitterly. “When we’re alone, you call me by my familiar
name. When you’re in front of your men, I am referred to as servant
only. And that’s only when you decide to acknowledge the fact you
know me at all.”

“’Tis the way of the nobles, Devon. I am
expected to act this way. You can’t expect me to sit and dine with
a mere servant.”

“Why not?” she challenged him. “You are lord
and you can do as you please, can you not?”

“Aye,” he agreed, raking a hand through his
hair wearily. “But ’tis not proper. Surely you can understand.”

“Can I? I dare you to sit and dine with
me.”

Corbett looked back to his men. Several were
watching. He wanted more than anything to take up her challenge.
Watching her today and not being able to touch her was making him a
very frustrated man. He wanted to feed her by hand every piece of
food on his trencher. Then he wanted to lick the juices from her
fingers and trail kisses down her entire body.

“Do it,” she challenged him. “Dine with
me.”

He hesitated. The turmoil within threatened
to consume him. If only she knew how badly he wanted to comply.

“I can’t.” He turned away.

“Then I can’t eat this meal,” she said
setting it on the ground. “Good-night my lord, as I think I’ll now
retire by the fire.”

Devon joined the men at the fire, shaking
out a coarse blanket and wrapping it around her shoulders. The
nights were cold in these parts. There was sure to be a frost by
daybreak. Corbett looked at his hunters sitting around the fire
consuming large amounts of wine and ale. Several tents were set up
throughout the camp, as he allowed his men the luxury of a tent
when out on a hunt. His tent sat closest to the fire, and the
biggest among them. He followed Devon. Her body was curled up and
the blanket pulled tightly around her. He could see her body
shivering underneath.

“Servant,” he said, gaining not only her
attention, but the attention of every man there. “You will sleep in
my tent tonight.”

The men whistled and shouted out, several of
them offering their tents to her.

“Alone,” he said loud enough for every man
there to hear. “I will be sleeping under the stars tonight.”

She looked at the men, and then back to him.
Her teeth chattered and it was all he could do not to pull her into
his arms and wrap her in his own warmth. Then without a word of
gratitude, she disappeared into his tent.

The men huddled around the warm fire,
greedily consuming large amounts of wine, trying to not only dry
their damp clothes, but warm their bodies inside and out. Even
Delwynn was allowed to join in the festivities as a form of
acceptance for his grand capture. Sefton proudly stroked the
hounds' backs as they lay at his feet. They were in no hurry to
move after having consumed enough meat to feed another two men.
Malcomn stood among the men generously bragging of one thing or
another, and Corbett tried to ignore him.

Corbett chugged his wine, wondering what to
do about Devon. She wasn’t his normal obedient servant. She seemed
to think she deserved better, and he for some reason wanted to give
it to her. Then when he heard the mention of Devon's name coming
from the lips of his men, along with a few randy suggestions, he
knew he had to intervene.

"Enough!" commanded Corbett. All eyes were
upon him. "I would not have you speaking of one of my maidservants
as if she were a whore."

Several of the men quickly went to their
tents, not wanting to be around Corbett when his anger flared. Even
Sefton brought the hounds closer to sleep with him as a means of
protection.

"Why the outburst?" Malcomn was more
irritating than normal in his intoxicated state. "Haven't you had
these lustful wishes for her like the rest of us? Or mayhap you are
just angry because you want her for yourself but she doesn’t want
you."

Devon peeked out of the tent, having heard
every comment said about her. To her surprise, Corbett was
defending her honor. She watched him grab Malcomn by his tunic and
lift him off the ground. Corbett’s jaw twitched, and anger flashed
across his face. The air was still as the onlookers all waited in
anticipation of Corbett's next move. The only sound was the crackle
of the fire directly behind Malcomn's dangling feet. After a moment
of silence, Corbett gently placed Malcomn back on the ground.

"For those wishing to someday become
knights,” Corbett said, “I must remind you of not only fealty to
your lord, but chivalry as well.

Devon knew the men were too intoxicated to
learn anything from Corbett’s little lesson, let alone remember it
in the morning.

"Loyalty, prowess, and generosity however,
are not the only requirements of this position of honor." He glared
at Malcomn. "Respect in the treatment or even in idle comments of a
woman, is what separates the men from the boys."

Devon almost applauded at his comment,
wondering if Corbett would follow his own advice. Had something
changed tonight between them? Would he treat her differently come
the dawn?

"I suggest everyone try to get some sleep,”
said Corbett. “We have a long ride ahead of us tomorrow and we will
leave immediately after we break the fast."

One of the men staggered up to Corbett.
"Stell I shay watch?" he managed to ask, then looking to the sky
seemed to be deciding why his words didn't seem quite right.

"Nay," commented Corbett. "I'll sleep by the
fire tonight, though we won't need a man on watch. The raven will
warn us if anything is amiss."

The men quickly found their way to their
tents, and even Malcomn retired without another word. Devon watched
Corbett spread his cloak on the ground and sit atop it without a
blanket to keep him from the cold. She had two blankets inside the
tent, but he’d left them for her. Her heart went out to him, and
she closed the flap to sleep by herself.

Corbett stared into the fire, his thoughts
slowly drifting from Devon to his childhood and the times he spent
talking with Orrick about his troubles. The old sorcerer would
always listen, then do something like making flames appear from
nowhere just to cheer him up. He always knew how to make Corbett
smile. He unfastened his spurs and pulled off his boots, lying back
and using his boots for a pillow.

How he missed that old man. Besides Kenric,
Orrick was the only one he had ever confided in after losing his
parents. Even then, he had only known him for a short time before
he disappeared. Orrick had taken a liking to him, and had promised
Corbett he would be there whenever he needed to talk.

Why?
Corbett asked himself as his
eyelids flickered, threatening to close. Why wasn't he here now,
when he really needed someone to confide in? He saw his raven
sitting on a log that had been used as a bench earlier. The bird
watched him intently with its amethyst eyes.

"Go to sleep, my friend," he mumbled,
shifting to a different position. "I know you're a good listener,
but what I need right now is someone who can tell me what to do
about a certain maidservant that has turned my life upside down."
Corbett closed his eyes, exhausted from the hunt. Almost
immediately he fell into a slumber.

“
Orrick?” Corbett’s boy frame shook
inside.

“
Aye, lad?”

“
Are you sure you don’t want to deliver this
yourself?” Corbett held the circular metal piece in his open palm,
his eyes fixed upon the dragon, the baron's crest that shimmered on
its surface. A ruby red eye gleamed up from the shiny gold piece
almost as if it watched his every move. Orrick had used his magic
to create this, and it was like no other. The image seemed to
appear and disappear from the amulet, sometimes making it look
empty and other times making it seem as if the dragon were alive
and actually rising up into the air.

"Nay, lad. I won't set foot inside the
baroness's chamber. She's managed to ban me from her surroundings
and when she finds I've come back to Torquey, she will not be
pleased."

"Of what do you speak?" asked Corbett,
feeling the old sorcerer was keeping something from him.