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T he packhorses stood in the mud, their breath making wreaths of fog around their heads. It had turned unusually cold for December, and dark clouds threatened snow. Yesterday’s sun had done little to remove the puddles that riddled the ground.

He had resumed his soldier’s garb, knowing that travel on public roads during a holiday was always fraught with thieves.

A chain mail hauberk covering his upper body chinked softly against the metal cuirass across his chest. The finely woven steel of the coif protected his head and added some warmth.

Now the rain and mud from the previous days formed a light covering of murky ice.

With each step, his leather boot cracked the surface and sank into the chilly slush.

Rolf noticed his wife push her hands farther into the fur-lined sleeves of her mantle as she spoke to her mother.

Their tearful parting put a knot in his stomach.

Would Melissa some day shed tears for him when he said farewell to follow the King?

Cristiana’s face loomed in his memory. His sister had always cried at the end of their childhood visits.

But as they grew older, both seemed to realize the futility of it.

Yet, brother and sister remained close; she alone understood the loneliness and responsibility that had been thrust on him.

He wondered what Cristiana would think of his bride.

He saw Blackbourne and Trystan sloshing through the mire, leading their horses. William brought his dappled courser, a beast ready for any foul play along the road. Trystan led a smaller, deep brown palfrey that danced and pranced, sending a spray of muck onto anything in its path.

“Are you sure you can handle that young mare?” Rolf asked the boy, who wore a look of mud-splattered disgust. “She seems a bit antsy for such a frail lad.”

Trystan’s chest puffed out. “Ain’t nothing frail about me. I bet Lord Blackbourne a month’s wage I’ll have her tame by the time we reach Lord Arbrec’s home in Scotland.”

William gave a side wink to Rolf. “ If you succeed. Right now, you look like some hellish mire ghost. The Scots will think you’re a bog spirit and chase you into the Highlands.”

The boy ignored them and spoke Welsh in a soothing to the horse. “ Dawel fy melys . Shh, my sweet.” He blew softly on her nose, and the mare’s ears pitched forward; her feet stopped moving. Trystan looked over his shoulder in triumph.

“Sounds like he’s wooing a girl more than taming a beast.” Rolf shook his head, impressed with the boy’s talent.

“It’s a similar technique, if you ask me.” William shrugged his shoulders. “Come boy, you’ll have plenty of time to sweet talk your female. We have miles to put behind us this day.”

After a final check of the horses’ straps, girths, and the supply list, Rolf joined Melissa and her parents. “My lord, I will send notice as soon as we arrive. I give you my word, she will be safe.”

“See that you do. Or you will have two Garrick men demanding retribution. My son Broden is a younger version of myself, and you would not want to face his wrath on top of mine.” Though his words were harsh, the earl put out his hand in truce.

“I have decided to let God and fate have their way in this. Do not make me regret it.”

Melissa leaned on her toes and gave her father a long hug. “Be happy for me, my lord father. I love you with all my heart and promise all will be well.”

He hesitated then hugged her back, patting her back awkwardly. “Er, I will worry about you regardless. Now off with you before Agnes begins to cry anew.”

“She brought only the necessities. We will have her retinue sent on as soon as you are settled somewhere.” Lady Agnes nodded her head in approval. “There will be no heavy trunks to hold you back. You should be able to cover twenty-five to thirty miles a day.”

Rolf walked the chestnut palfrey to the mounting block and held the reins while Melissa mounted. She arranged her cloak and skirts. “He looks a bit long in the tooth. We will see about getting you a younger horse.”

“Oh no, my lord. I am quite satisfied with Thunder. He has more endurance than you think.” She patted old gelding’s neck with affection, her slender fingers covered in soft brown gloves.

Much like my new wife. “But you will need to replace him someday. Once we are settled, you will choose another. I won’t take Thunder from you, but it would be wise to become accustomed to another horse before he grows too old.

” He pulled on his gauntlets, glad for the heavy leather over his cold fingers.

Melissa looked at Trystan, stroking the neck of the small bay mare. “Oh no, my lovely. I am not putting my new wife on an inexperienced horse, after I just swore to your father that I would keep you safe.”

“Not to worry, my lord. Methinks your lad will have her tame in short order. Besides, I’ve been riding since I was five.” She gave him a smug smile and added, “You will find that this female does not slow down your progress.”

He gave her booted calf a squeeze, massaging the soft leather beneath the heavy wool of her mantle. Rolf had the feeling there was much to learn about his new wife.

***

It took over two weeks to reach the Scottish border.

Melissa, as promised, had maintained the men’s pace with the determination of a soldier on campaign.

In truth, she had been thankful for the new cushion on her saddle.

It had been a gift from her mother on the morning of her departure.

“If all went well last night, you will be sore and need a bit of comfort for you woman parts,” Lady Agnes had whispered. She would miss her mother’s wisdom.

Each night they stopped, her husband had made sure they had a private room with a mattress and decent food.

Sir William and Trystan had often slept elsewhere: the back of a tavern, a stable, or the great hall when staying with acquaintances of her father or the Earl of Leicester.

She had appreciated the privacy, and each night gleaned another tiny bit of her husband’s past. His childhood had fascinated her.

Once under Merlin’s care, Rolf had been deprived of other children to play with.

Instead, he substituted the creatures of the forest and the domesticated animals raised at the hunting lodge.

Edric quickly realized how easily the boy could train animals to do his bidding.

The wolfhounds would fetch whatever object Rolf needed with a one-word command. The dogs somehow knew what to bring.

When a particularly stubborn falcon in the mew given Edric trouble, often refusing to come back to the lure for any type of reward, he gave the bird to Rolf.

By the end of the day, it returned to the boy’s gloved hand with the twirl of a sparkling lure and a promise of a small piece of meat.

When Edric passed this news of this skill on to Merlin, the old man had shouted with glee.

Rolf’s shifting began shortly after. He could change into any animal form he felt a close affinity with, except human.

His love for canines and birds had turned into a natural ability to shift into both forms. The falcon was his choice for long travel, giving him a view of the landscape below and the speed to cover vast territories in a short time.

The wolf provided him with power, an excellent sense of smell, and the capability of getting close to an enemy without notice.

Each had served him well during battle campaigns.

A loud bang brought Melissa back to her present surroundings. “More ale, mistress. And whatever else you want to give me along with it,” yelled a round man from the back of the room.

“Och, I’ll give ye something to go with it,” the serving girl yelled back in a thick Scottish brogue.

They were close to Scotland, and Rolf had gone to seek information on the border clans.

He wanted to avoid any conflicts as they left England.

The tavern was hazy from the wood fire burning in the center of the room.

Voices created a dull background buzz, like bees around a hive, with an occasional shout of laughter or insult.

Another older woman in a stained, brown apron moved through the crowd with a clay pitcher, refilling cups and collecting coins.

“Methinks I owe you an apology, Trystan.” Blackbourne gave a covert wink to Melissa. He took a drink and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You almost won that bet of ours.”

“Almost?” the boy sputtered with indignation. “How so, my lord? She walks and trots calmly these days and rarely throws her head in a gallop. How have I not won the bet?”

“You have gentled her, to be sure. But is she trained? Does she back up, sidestep, and turn on her hindquarters on command?” He spread his hands wide and shrugged his shoulders, the hauberk winking in the firelight.

William’s wine sloshed dangerously close to the rim of his cup.

“Nay, you have accomplished much but not yet achieved your goal.”

“So I do not gain a month’s wage? You tricked me?

” Trystan stood, his face turning bright scarlet, and his fists bunched at his sides.

Even at full height, he did not meet the eyes of his lord, still sitting on a bench.

“Fie! We agreed I would tame her by the end of the trip. You split hairs, my lord.”

“A tame horse should be able to follow its rider’s commands in maneuvers. That is basic training, boy. You know that.”

Melissa had always been a mediator. She disliked conflicts, especially those that could be easily solved. The indignant look on Trystan’s face worsened as William’s expression turned to amusement. This would not end well. At least, not for Trystan.

“Sir William, did you specifically say when we reached Scotland or when we reached our destination?” she asked sweetly, surprising the knight when she intervened.

“In truth, I don’t remember my lady. Does it make a difference?”