Page 2 of The Knight’s Reward

Holding his breath, he waited. And waited.

The crowd grew impatient, stirred into a frenzy by the boldness of his request and the length of time it was taking the king to grant it. He’d never once denied a boon requested by a Tournament of Peace champion, although there was always a first.

Finally, Edward raised his hand once again.

“Your boon shall be granted, with one condition.”

He had been prepared for this too. Neill braced himself, maintaining eye contact with Edward, who now lowered himself into his makeshift throne. Even sitting, he was still high above Neill.

“You and your guests are invited to dine at the king’s table tonight,” said the king’s chancellor, surprising him. That, he’d not expected. “Congratulations, Sir Neill.”

With that, he had been dismissed.

Bowing, knowing he’d need to take a victor’s lap down the length of the list before he joined his squire and spoke to Adam and Cora, Neill walked back to his mount.

A condition.

Whatever it was, this condition must be met. Once it was, Neill would take the good news to his brothers. It was time to go home.

But first, his victor’s lap and requisite meeting with the marshal. Only later, as he sat in the great hall of one of the most impressive castles in England, did Neill allow the king’s condition to trouble him.

They’d eaten, drank their fill, and still the king and queen sat quietly on the raised dais. Finally, he was called before them once again. With a final glance back to Adam and Cora, he made his way to the dais. Bowing deeply, he stood only when the king advised him to do so.

“When I have my renewed oath from Alexander, Caxton shall be removed. After—” he exchanged a look with the queen before continuing, “—you will take the Lady Alina deBeers as a bride.”

* * *

“We’ll be needing you downstairs, Kathryn,” Magge shouted from the other side of the door.

Shoving the innkeeper’s books back inside the desk Magge had procured for her the month before, Kathryn stood, shook out her well-worn dress, and grabbed an apron hanging near the door.

“On my way,” she called, putting it on and entering the dimly lit hallway.

“Yer hair,” Magge cautioned before she shuffled away.

Kathryn reached back, quickly braided her hair and secured it with a ribbon from the pocket of her apron. Sometimes, to avoid notice, she wore a headcovering as well, but Magge seemed in a hurry this eve. Saying a silent prayer she’d not regret it later, Kathryn headed belowstairs, following the sounds of men deep in their cups. Darkness had already fallen, the only light now from the hearth and tallow candles casting their dim glow on the men feasting at the rows of trestle tables.

Her first job would be to refresh the candles.

“Keep yer hands to yerself.” Magge swatted old MacAdder as she walked by him. Sure enough, the Scottish reiver’s eyes widened when he saw her. Although he seemed harmless enough, she wouldn’t tempt fate by walking near him, so she navigated around him to start her duties at the far side of the hall.

Seeing a candle that needed to be replaced, Kathryn leaned between two men, careful not to touch either of them. She took the candleholder with her.

“She’s the one I told you about,” one of the men said to the other.

Uh-oh.

“Fine speech for a barmaid.”

Ignore them, Kathryn.

She tried to move on to the next table, but the young knight grabbed her hand. Kathryn sighed. For months The Wild Boar had been her sanctuary, but she’d made a mistake last night, slipping into French to respond to one of the men, and it would seem she’d made an impression.

While most inns of this size catered to nobles, or at least gentry, this sole inn along the border attracted a wide array of men. Nobles and knights, reivers of both the English and Scottish variety. Magge knew how to handle them all, which was how The Wild Boar had earned its reputation as the sole location on the border where peace still reigned and where men could meet to discuss important matters that affected both the English and the Scots. The Wild Boar and its proprietor were known far and wide.

Magge had proven a fine teacher. Although her figure was stout, her hair greying, she was still quick with a dagger and a fine flirt. She knew the best approach for each of her patrons, and she’d taught Kathryn the same sense of discernment. Kathryn had come to her knowing little of the daily activities of an inn. She’d frequented them, of course, but until she’d come to Magge for help, she’d never worked a day in her life.

“Too fine to address her patrons?” the knight asked.