Page 4 of Halloween Knight (A Knights Through Time Romance #17)
The village was bustling, an idyllic scene of rustic charm though she could do without the disgusting smells. With the village being inland, the sea breezes didn’t reach this far to carry the stink away.
Chickens roamed freely, goats and sheep exchanged animated conversations, and merchants hawked their wares from thatch-roofed timber cottages lining the muddy lane.
The weekly market would increase the size of the village twofold, with traveling merchants and people coming from tiny nearby villages.
Most of the homes had small gardens in the back, already tilled over and ready for the coming winter.
The sun was shining, making the day warm as the villagers were busy mending fences and splitting firewood, while women swept doorsteps and tended to the animals.
Children scampered underfoot, their chores momentarily forgotten as they cast curious glances at Lady Blackford in her blue gown, as she and the men passed through on horseback.
Memories of past prejudices still haunted her, making it difficult at times for Lucy to spend time in the village other than the market days, but since the village healer left and the castle healer had passed away, it fell on her, so for William, she would do what needed to be done.
The murmured greetings she received were polite, but she caught several people making the sign of the cross as she passed. No doubt the lingering effects of Clement declaring her a fairy and then a witch.
Back in her own time, the term ‘witch’ bore little weight, often associated with fun Halloween traditions like dancing around bonfires or putting up various decorations, including orange and purple blinking lights, brooms, pumpkins, spell books, and fake cauldrons filled with dry ice.
Samhain, on the other hand, wasn’t about lighthearted fun, but rather a time when the veils between worlds was thin, a time when one needed protection against restless souls.
The whole veil being thin, Lucy could personally attest to, as to the rest?
Well, so far, no ghosts had appeared in the castle corridors.
Every year Lucy excitedly picked out a costume, everything from a ballerina to a scientist, to a witch, and one year she’d dressed up as Wonder Woman, complete with a lasso spray painted gold.
It had been so much fun tramping from house to house clutching a pillowcase full of candy, eating caramel apples, comparing candy hauls with her sisters and friends, carving faces into pumpkins set down the front steps to light the way for trick-or-treaters, and then ending the night on the beach, telling spooky stories around the bonfire.
She wished she could share some of that fun with the villagers without them calling her a witch. This year, Lucy wanted to invite everyone in the village to Blackford to celebrate.
The dirt path to the village was muddy after the rain last night. Careful to avoid the deeper puddles, she guided Buttercup around them so the muddy water wouldn’t splash on her dress.
Thomas rode in front, following the boy from the stables, who led the way to the humble abode, while the other two guards rode behind Lucy, keeping watch.
As they turned the corner, Lucy caught sight of a beautiful noblewoman with auburn hair dressed in fine silks riding with her husband through the village.
When they dismounted, a woman stopped in the middle of tossing water onto the dirt, scowling at the departing couple.
“Best stay away from that one, my lady.” The woman spat on the ground. “Last night at the inn, she had a young serving maid beaten for spilling her wine.”
The woman narrowed her eyes as the noblewoman turned and looked over her shoulder at them, glaring at them both.
“Doesn’t seem to care for you, lady.”
Lucy dismounted, letting one of the guards see to Buttercup. “Who is she?”
The woman, who’d already lost interest, shrugged. “No one from around here.”
The conversation over, Lucy noticed a few villagers gathered outside a small cottage as a young girl sat in the dirt, weeping.
“My lady, this way.” The boy, who must have been around eight, beckoned her towards the humble cottage, stopping to pat his friend on the shoulder. “All will be well, Eliza. Lady Blackford is here.”
Standing on the threshold, Lucy turned to the men.
“I don’t want any of you catching whatever they have. Keep clear of the house. I will meet you at the edge of the village when I’m ready to go.”
Thomas nodded. “As you wish, my lady.” They took Buttercup and left to wait for her.
“What has happened here?” Lucy asked gently. A man she recognized as the village thatcher replied solemnly, “the pox has come upon them.”
Lucy’s breath caught in her throat. She had heard tales of outbreaks in the larger cities, but never witnessed one herself. Thank goodness she’d been vaccinated as a child.
“I brought soup.” She held up the basket. “May I look in on them?”
The thatcher hesitated before nodding. “If that is your wish.”
Steeling herself, Lucy ducked inside the dim cottage, Eliza following her. The air smelled foul and sickly sweet. In the far corner, on dirty straw pallets, lay the girl’s parents and three siblings, skin covered in angry red spots.
Lucy had read about smallpox in school, but seeing it in person was far different. She searched her memory—fever, rash, lesions... it all fit the description. Combined with how rapidly the villagers said it had come upon them, she thought they were right. It was smallpox.
She turned to the daughter, Eliza, who looked at her with red-rimmed eyes. “I don’t want to lose my family,” she wept.
But Lucy knew it was a contagious disease that could easily spread throughout the village and to the castle.
She clasped the girl’s shoulder gently. “Boil rags to clean them. Try and get them to take a bit of the soup I brought.”
Leaving the cottage, Lucy blinked back tears, grateful she had been vaccinated against smallpox as a child even as it made her feel powerless knowing she was protected while the villagers were not.
Outside, Lucy washed her hands with water from the well in the village, along with soap and rags she’d brought with her, then had her guardsmen do the same.
“We will return tomorrow with soap and more soup. I fear ’tis all we can do until this illness passes.”
The air rang with the sound of swords crashing together and men’s shouts as William and the men sparred vigorously on the training field, trading insults.
Not that he was showing off for his lady, rather he was allowing her to appreciate a fine bit of swordplay.
The winds swept through the lists, carrying with it the scent of the sea, along with sweat and dust kicked up by the day’s practice.
His wife sat on the low stone bench as he strode over to her.
“Here to admire my form?”
She kissed him on the cheek. “You are a sight to behold. Grace and ruthlessness that none can compare,” she said with a grin.
He knew she liked to tease him. He hauled her to him, kissing her soundly as the men yelled out suggestions and insults.
“By twos then.” William bellowed as he deftly parried a flurry of strikes.
They circled each other, boots scuffing in the dirt, before Leo rushed forward as William side-stepped swiftly, allowing the blow to whisk mere inches from his shoulder. Off-balance, Leo stumbled forward, and William landed a blow on his back with the practice sword.
“Wee Jason could have done better,” shouted Rhys from the sidelines.
“Bloody hell, you almost lost your head.” Wymund, his captain, taunted the guardsman as others joined in, hurling insults that by now, William knew Lucy was used to hearing, although she would be vexed with him if Jason repeated some of the more inventive curses.
William cast a baleful eye over his men. “Womanly prattle, the lot of you. Now draw your blades.”
With a roar, Leo charged again, Benedict coming from behind as he matched each strike and blow with effortless grace, and if William glanced over to make sure his lady was watching, it was only to ensure she was admiring his visage, not that he cared what she thought of his swordplay.
The other knights looked on, scrutinizing his form and footwork for any small detail that might aid their own skills.
“Mind your balance, Godfrey!” he called as one knight nearly tripped over his own feet.
To another he warned, “Patience, Rhys. Wait for the right moment to strike or you’ll lose that pretty head and then serving wenches across the lands will weep into their cups.”
From her seat, Lucy called out encouragement to the men as William spared his wife an amused grin.
She’d been waiting to hear if the priest who had been recommended by one of William’s friends was on his way.
The delay in news arriving was something Lucy had gotten used to over the years, but now and then she lamented the loss of the internet and the instantaneous communication afforded by texting.
A laugh escaped as she pictured William and his knights with swords slung up on their shoulders, pausing to send texts.
After several more rounds of sparring, William disarmed one knight, then the other in quick succession. Chests heaving from exertion, Leo and Benedict stepped back and nodded. William clasped each man’s shoulder.
“Well fought today. I can think of no other warriors I would rather have at my side in battle.”
“Come then, have at me, if you dare,” he called. William loved nothing more than the thrill of combat, even in a friendly sparring match. To him, this was where he felt most alive, pitting his hard-won skills against worthy adversaries.
His lady called out encouragement and witty remarks as she watched. “Look lively, don’t let William win all the glory today. You know if he does, his head will be too big to fit through the gates.”
The knights roared with laughter at her jest. Even William could not help an amused chuckle.
“Anyone else?” William called out to the men, some of whom were panting, leaning on their swords.
“I challenge you, my lord!” Galen stepped forward, limbering up his sword arm. “Unless you are too weary to continue?” he added, unable to resist the gibe.
William threw back his head and laughed heartily.“I should say the same to you, Galen. I imagine your old bones must be aching terribly after just lazing about watching.”
Galen snorted. “This ‘old man’ still has a few tricks to teach you, young pup.”
The men tossed crude insults at each other, seeming to forget Lucy was watching.
“Why, I see you’ve broken into quite a sweat already, my lord,” he ribbed William with mock concern. “We’d best end this soon so you can get some rest.”
William shook his head in amusement.“I shall rest quite well tonight after defeating you soundly, old friend,” he retorted.
Without another word, Galen rushed forward, not waiting for William to fully raise his guard.
Swords crashed as William just managed to deflect the surprise blow.
Back and forth they traded blistering strikes, neither man giving quarter.
William gradually forced Galen onto the defensive.
Yet the older knight resisted doggedly, refusing to yield.
The other men shouted encouragement to both fighters.
Moments later, with a final mighty swing, William sent Galen’s practice sword sailing out of reach, signaling the end of the match.
“You nearly had me more than once,” William praised. “Your skill is still as sharp as any man’s here.”
Clasping William’s shoulder, Galen smiled. “The honor is mine, my lord. There is no man I would rather fight beside than you.”
William crossed the lists to where Lucy still sat observing. She smiled up at him.
“I know I tease you, but truly you are incredible on the field. I only wish you never had to fight.”
He dropped to the bench beside Lucy and planted a quick kiss on her lips.
“You said there is still war in your time, so it seems I must always be ready.” William shrugged. “Shall we go in before you catch a chill?” He wrapped an arm around his wife, drawing her close.
“We should, so you can bathe.” She held her nose, a twinkle in her eye. “You stink.”
William rose, mouth twitching. “After I bathe, I want some of that apple pie you made.”