Page 11 of Veil of Winter

“Because you are too kindhearted for your own good, and I figured you might need help getting back home.”

Sir Oswalt’s answer stung, and it made Gerard determined to prove that he was capable and that God had called him to do this. And yet he wasn’t too proud to be grateful for his help and company.

They had taken a ship across the sea to the Continent and landed at the closest point to the inland Montciel. They bought horses and rode toward the ever-higher mountains and their white peaks. By the time they reached the border of Montciel, Gerard was hard-pressed to wear enough layers of clothing to keep warm, even though it was only October. The locals informed them with a smile that it was unusually warm. Winter, they explained, was late in coming this year.

That did not bode well.

Perhaps he could save the princess and her people from King Claude quickly and return home before it got much colder or snowed. He still had no idea how he would help her, but God had sent him here, so He must have a plan.

They rode hard for three days, hardly stopping and seldom talking to anyone. And now, as they finally reached the village outside the castle residence of the King of Montciel, Gerard noticed how the people’s shoulders slumped, the way they walked slowly, their eyes downcast.

“What ails these people?” Gerard said.

Sir Oswalt shook his head.

They stopped at a stall at the side of the narrow street where a man was selling bread. Gerard and Sir Oswalt dismounted. Gerard had heard that the people spoke German. Gerard knew a bit of German, and he could understand it better than he could speak it. Sir Oswalt, however, did not.

“GuterHerr,” Gerard said in his rudimentary German, “we are foreigners here. Will you tell us the news?”

The man’s eyes were watery as he looked directly at Gerard. “Our beautiful princess has fallen ill and is not responding to the king’s physician’s treatment. They have lost hope for her.” He aggressively cleared his throat, as if trying to fight back tears.

“Princess? Do you mean Princess Elyce?”

The man nodded.

Gerard’s heart skipped a beat. Had God sent him on a fool’s errand? Was he to attend the funeral of the woman he was meant to save?

He and Sir Oswalt bought some bread and cheese from the man, as their supplies were depleted, but Gerard’s mind was in a haze. Surely Delia’s friend would not die, not when he’d come so far to help her.

As they walked away, Sir Oswalt asked, “What now?”

“I don’t know. But I have this letter, and I want to at least try to get into the castle. Perhaps I can talk to someone, even the king.”

Oswalt was frowning, but he was loyal. Gerard had once rescued him from being wrongly punished when they were in training, and Oswalt had proven himself a great friend many times since.

They turned their horses toward the castle mount and rode slowly up the steeply inclined road.

On all sides, mountains surrounded them, their peaks high and jagged and white with snow. The valleys were covered in trees and grassy meadows. Here and there were little plaster-walled houses, made cheerful with colorful designs painted on the sides, their quaint thatch roofs pointed and sloped.

The castle ahead of them was one of the most impressive Gerard had seen, with high towers, squared-off facades, and steep round roofs ringed with crenellations. Not the least imposing feature was the sharpness of the cliffs and drop-offs beside the castle itself. Anyone who tried to besiege this castle would have a tough time of it. And the last two hundred feet leading up to the gate and guardhouse was a narrow drawbridge.

Sir Oswalt looked over the side. “Long way down,” he said placidly.

Gerard had never seen Sir Oswalt yell or show much emotion. He was a good man, even though he rarely showed that he cared. It was not his way. Gerard envied him that self-possession. Gerard often let his emotions get the best of him. He cared so deeply about things, and it bothered him when someone else didn’t seem to care, or asked him why he cared so much. How could he not care when he saw injustice, when those he loved were harmed, when evil seemed to triumph?

They approached the stone-faced guards.

“We have come to deliver a message to the king,” Gerard said in German.

“Who are you?” the guard asked.

“I am Sir Gerard of Dericott, England, brother of the Earl of Dericott. Do you speak English?”

“I do.”

“My sister is the Duchess of Strachleigh and is the close confidante of Princess Elyce. I have brought a letter from her.”

The guard blinked. “Princess Elyce cannot accept visitors.”