A Perfect Knight. Anne Herries

for how else will he gain his knighthood? You shall take him with you this afternoon, my friend. I beg only that you will have a care for him for his mother’s sake.’

      ‘You had no need to ask. I loved Berenice dearly, though she was but a distant cousin of my mother’s.’ Harald hesitated. ‘You will not wish me to say this, Ralph—but you should think of marrying again. A man needs a wife to give him sons.’

      ‘Pray do not!’ Ralph held up his hand, a look of grief sweeping over his hard features. ‘My demesne is large enough for my ambitions and I have a son to inherit all my lands. Why should I need more?’

      Harald refrained from giving him the answer he knew would be unwelcome. Children died all too often of virulent fevers or accidents. He himself had five sons and two daughters, having married for a second time within six months of his first wife’s death. It was the way of the world, for women were lost in childbed and there was no sense in repining. Life must go on and one woman was much the same as another in his experience.

      ‘I know you loved Berenice, but—’

      ‘Please!’ Ralph’s plea was a command, and a nerve twitched in his cheek. ‘Let us speak of other matters. What think you of this quarrel that rumbles on between the King and Sir Thomas à Becket?’

      As Harald launched into a tirade against the King’s quarrel with the Archbishop, Ralph drew a breath of relief. He did not wish to discuss the fragile young wife, who had not been strong enough for childbearing. His hands clenched at his sides as he felt the familiar ache in his breast. He had grieved for a life needlessly lost. How could he ever think of marrying again when his unkindness, his thoughtless desires, had killed Berenice?

      And there was the secret guilt that haunted him, because, though he had desired her, as a young man would for her beauty and sweetness, he had never truly loved her. She had proved too young and too foolish to hold his affections, and he feared that his reserve, his coldness, had destroyed her. She had known that he did not love her and because of that she was dead. It was a heavy sin for which he had done penance these past years.

      He had let the women fuss over Stefan as they would, because his son was a permanent reminder of Berenice’s tragic death, but his weakness would reflect badly on the boy. He must be schooled and trained in the arts that would make him first a page, then a squire and then worthy to receive his knighthood. Harald of Wotten was a good man and just; he would look after Stefan and oversee his education and the boy would be sent home to spend feast days with his father. It was the end of one part of their lives and meant that Ralph had no ties to hold him to this place and must begin to think of the future.

      The King’s request that he journey to Aquitaine and seek out Queen Eleanor at her court was one that he felt bound to honour, for he had received his own knighthood at Henry’s hands.

      King Henry II was in Ralph’s estimation a worthy ruler of England. Henry had rescued the country from the chaos it had fallen into under King Stephen’s reign and instituted many reforms. He had subdued Wales and regained northern territories that had been lost to Scotland, but he had also brought in a law pertaining to the trial of churchmen who had transgressed, which had aroused the fury of many influential men. The most important of these was Sir Thomas à Becket, a stubborn man who had refused to bend in this matter of a law he felt unjust.

      For the moment Ralph was not prepared to take sides. It was, he believed, a matter between the King and his Archbishop. Ralph’s loyalty was to the King and his mission to visit Queen Eleanor. The marriage between Henry and Eleanor, at first passionate and fortuitous for both, had deteriorated these past years, and Henry had heard rumours of his wife that displeased him. Some said that Eleanor meddled in matters of state that did not concern her, that she planted treason and sedition in the minds of her sons, turning them against their father. She had left England because of a quarrel with her husband and Henry was not altogether happy with her behaviour since. It was Ralph’s task to carry letters to the Queen at Poitiers and bring back her answer.

      For the moment that was all that mattered; this personal unrest, this feeling of emptiness, must be put aside. Ralph had devoted his life to the welfare of his son and the people on his estate. In the future he must begin to look elsewhere for a purpose to his life. Once, when he was young and full of shining ideals, he had thought of taking up the cross and going to the crusades, but that was before his careless behaviour had killed Berenice… Now he knew that he was not worthy. He was, in fact, a most imperfect knight.

      The court had spent the day hawking on the marsh-lands beyond the forest. Alayne’s peregrine had flown well, its speed, strong flight and tenacity much admired. Indeed, she had received more than one offer to buy the bird, but refused to part with it.

      ‘I love my sweet Perlita,’ Alayne said to one gentleman who persisted with his offer. ‘I shall never part with her for gold or jewels. She is far too precious.’

      A party of ladies and gentlemen were riding close enough to hear her answer and one of the gentlemen asked what would buy the peregrine, if gold would not.

      ‘Why, nothing, my lord,’ Alayne replied, her azure blue eyes sparkling with mischief. ‘She shall never leave me unless I choose to give her.’

      ‘A wager! A wager!’ cried several voices.

      ‘I’ll wager the Lady Alayne would more willingly give her love than that bird,’ one of the ladies cried and trilled with laughter.

      ‘For shame!’ another voice said. ‘She cannot be won, for many have tried to win her smiles and received naught for their pains.’

      ‘You are too unkind, my Lord Malmont,’ Alayne said and laughed at the man who had spoken. ‘You may have a smile for the asking, but the man who would win both me and Perlita must first win my heart.’

      ‘Set me any task and I shall perform it,’ he quipped, hand clenched dramatically against his breast while his eyes danced with merriment. ‘For to win both you and that hawk would be a prize indeed.’

      ‘You mock me, sir. I think you prize the bird more than the lady,’ she replied and made a face at him, for she knew him to be another lady’s admirer. ‘I do not believe that I shall ever love. My heart is made of stone. I cannot love any man.’

      ‘A challenge!’ cried Baron de Froissart. ‘The lady’s denial cannot be allowed to go unchallenged. We must have a contest for the heart of this lady.’

      Several gentlemen murmured agreement and there was much laughter and jesting as the party rode back through the forest to the palace.

      Alayne found there was good-natured but fierce competition as to who should have the honour of helping her dismount from her palfrey. She laughed at their eager faces, then summoned a young page standing nearby, causing the knights to pull faces of dismay and complain that they had been overlooked for a mere stripling.

      ‘I am not to be so easily won, gentle sirs,’ she told them with a smile and gave her peregrine to the page, warning him to take good care of her before jumping down from her horse unaided. ‘If I am to be won, it will be no simple task.’

      She was immediately asked to set her challenge, but merely smiled and shook her head before walking into the palace. The coolness of the thick stone walls met her immediately, seeming dark and making her shiver after the heat of the sun. For some reason she felt uneasy, though she did not know why she should, nor what reason she had for feeling that way. The light-hearted exchange between the courtiers was no more than happened any day, though she was not usually singled out. Other ladies were more inclined to respond to such teasing and enjoyed setting tasks of heroism or skill for their admirers to perform.

      She was foolish to be anxious. Yet the prickling sensation at the nape of her neck was intense. Turning, Alayne saw that a man was standing a little way off. He was partially hidden by one of the huge stone pillars that supported the arched ceiling above the great hall. She could, however, see that he was tall, powerfully built, with broad shoulders: an impressive man dressed in the English fashion in cloth of black and silver, his dark, almost black hair straight and just long enough to brush the neckband