Knight's Move. Jennifer Landsbert

the orchard, she saw the dew still glistening on the leaves of the trees, a mist rising off the hills beyond. The early mornings were still chilly and the bees were too sluggish to be about their business out of doors. As she bent over the first hive, she could hear the familiar, reassuring buzzing inside.

      ‘He’s back,’ she tried to say, but her voice came out a dry, tight whisper. She cleared her throat, determined to announce the news properly. ‘He’s back. Not dead after all. Guy Beauvoisin is returned to Abbascombe as lord…and I…I hardly know what this means for me. Four years of playing at being lord, of believing that Abbascombe was mine, and now what?’ The question seemed to hang in the air like the mist. ‘Last night I fled from him,’ she confessed. ‘Part of me longed to stay, but the rest of me knew ’twould be madness to trust such a one as he. Don’t you agree, bees?’ She paused, as if they might reply. The bees buzzed on soporifically. Then Hester turned on her heels and headed back towards the vineyard. An occupation was what she needed. An occupation and William’s cheery chat.

      She found her bailiff alone in the vineyard, pruning the wiry stems.

      ‘Morning, my lady,’ he called, beaming at her in surprise. ‘I didn’t expect to see you this morning.’

      ‘I wanted to have a look at the vines. Where’s everyone else?’ she asked, looking round the lonely plot.

      ‘It’s early yet,’ William replied good-naturedly. ‘And I think most of them will have headaches after last night. A lot of toasts were made to his lordship’s return.’ He chuckled.

      ‘Oh.’ Hester felt too annoyed to say more. The last thing they needed was to fall behind on the land because of Guy’s return. He’d created quite enough mayhem without debilitating her workforce too. ‘Well, let’s get on. Why don’t you show me what needs doing?’

      ‘The best thing would be if you hold the vines steady whilst I cut them. If you just hold the stem here while I…’ His words petered out with the effort of cutting the tough old growth as William sawed away at it with a knife so sharp it made Hester wince.

      The vines produced plentifully in good years, standing in a sheltered lee of the land where the sun baked down in the summer. Hester and William worked their way around from vine to vine, with William cutting and pruning judiciously. Engrossed in the work, the morning passed quickly, and Hester was almost able to rid her mind of unpleasant thoughts of her long-lost husband.

      ‘What do you make of this?’ William asked, calling her attention to a woody lump on the bark of one of the vines.

      ‘I’m not sure,’ Hester said, peering at it closely.

      ‘Should I cut it out? What do you think?’ They were standing beside each other, their faces close in consultation as they considered this problem, when they heard the sound of horses’ hooves nearby. Looking up, Hester saw the person she least wanted to meet. There he was, her husband, sitting majestically on his horse and leading another horse behind him…her horse. At his side ambled the hell-hound. It barked threateningly at the sight of her, still eager to protect its devilish master from the supposed threat of her presence. Guy quieted the dog with a single word, ‘Amir!’

      ‘Morning, my lord,’ William greeted him cheerily, oblivious to the weight that had descended on Hester’s heart. ‘We were so busy examining this vine, we didn’t see you coming.’

      ‘Evidently,’ Guy replied, his face expressionless. ‘Good morning.’

      Hester tried to return the greeting but the words dried in her mouth. She steeled herself to look up at him, managing to train her eyes on his face, hoping she had masked the difficulty which the effort cost her.

      As her eyes focused on him, a bolt of surprise shot through her for he looked quite different. The thick bristles were gone, replaced by a strong, broad cleft chin. His hair was no longer a matted mess on his shoulders, but short and luxuriant, a deep, rich brown instead of dirty black. He no longer looked like a filthy ne’er-do-well, but actually like a lord, a person to be respected. But appearances can be deceptive, Hester thought to herself, as she weighed him with her eyes.

      He seemed to sense that she was examining his new looks and said, ‘My bags have arrived this morning by pack horse, so I am able to attire myself rather more fittingly.’ Then he added with a mischievous glint in his eye, ‘I find I have woken with a slight ache of the head. Perhaps it is due to the quality of your wine, my lady.’

      Was this to be his manner to her after last night? Teasing and flippant? In his mind had nothing of significance occurred when she had pulled away from his embrace in the hall? Was he so indifferent to her after all?

      ‘My wine is of the finest quality,’ she snapped back, though she knew it wasn’t true. Her wine was adequate and quaffable, but no one would have called it the finest.

      He grinned back at her, barely containing a laugh, amusement all over his face, and she realised she had risen foolishly easily to his bait, just as he had expected. She felt like kicking herself in punishment for being so predictable.

      ‘Well, however the ache settled in my head,’ he continued, ‘I thought a ride in the fresh air would clear it.’

      He paused, glancing at her horse, obviously expecting her to offer to accompany him. Hester did not reply, determined not to make life any easier for him than she had to. There was an awkward silence. William coughed and tried to look very concerned about the vines.

      ‘I hoped you would ride with me,’ Guy added at last. ‘I had an idea of riding over the Abbascombe land with you as my guide.’

      ‘Surely you haven’t forgotten your way, even after ten years,’ Hester said curtly, determined to remind him of his scandalous absence at every opportunity.

      ‘I dare say not, but I would like to hear what’s been happening in my absence.’

      ‘I am needed here to help with pruning the vines,’ she returned, confident of having found a good excuse.

      But William immediately spoke up. ‘Oh, no, my lady, don’t worry about that. I can manage without you. I’m sure you’d enjoy riding over the demesne.’

      Hester glared back at him, wishing for once that he wouldn’t always be so obliging. If only he could have read her thoughts, or at least been quicker on the up-take, he would have realised that the last thing she wanted to do was to spend the morning alone with her husband. But William just beamed back at her, reiterating, ‘Don’t you worry about me. The others will be along soon. You’re always working, my lady, why don’t you have a day off for a change?’ Then, before she could protest further, William was standing by her horse, offering to lift her up into the saddle while Guy held its bridle.

      It seemed as if she had no choice, but Hester wanted to make it clear to Guy that she would have much preferred to stay with the bailiff working on the vines, so she flashed an extra-warm smile at William in thanks, then lingered for several minutes discussing the work for the day.

      Leaning down from her saddle, she chatted and laughed with William, while surreptitiously keeping one eye on Guy. He was glowering, a thunderous look on his face now that he thought no one was watching him. So, he was not quite so cool as he liked to pretend. A feeling of satisfaction crept over her. No wonder he felt out of place, she thought, as she and William chatted about the vineyard. He knows next to nothing about the vines, and William and I know everything. What good is he to Abbascombe? He may be the owner by law, but what does he really know about this land or any of its crops? With any luck he’ll realise how useless he is here, useless and unwanted. Better he should give up and go off back to some war—the further away the better. Just leave us in peace, she thought as she turned to face him.

      ‘So,’ she said out loud, with as little grace as possible. ‘Where do you require that I should go with you?’

      ‘Why, lady, I require that you should accompany me on a tour of the Beauvoisin land,’ he replied stiffly, as he motioned to his horse to move off. Hester nodded her assent and followed as he led the way.

      ‘I