The Month of May, 1234 A.D.
He could hear the battle before he ever entered the bailey.
Swords clashing, one against the other, echoed off the great stone walls of Canterbury Castle, ancient barriers with some Roman origin that had seen much war and strife throughout the centuries. The knight’s trip had been a relatively leisurely journey up until that point, returning from France as he was on a spring day that had shown remarkable weather for the eight and a half miles it took from disembarking his ship at Herne Bay to Canterbury Castle.
But the sounds of distant warfare had him snapping into battle mode. The road was rocky and uneven as he thundered towards the castle astride his new gray Belgian charger, a gift from his father. The horse had been cooped up on a boat for over a day and was feeling energetic, which meant he was having a devil of a time controlling the beast as it raced towards the enormous castle compound. The wrestling was distracting him from his battle-readiness.
The knight bellowed at the sentries on the wall as he approached and the men, recognizing both his voice and his armor, began to lift the steel-fanged portcullis from its already half-open position. By the time he pounded through the Roman arch of the gatehouse that lead to the keep, he was bloody well angry at his new horse as well as deeply concerned over the sounds of a battle. It made for a snappish situation.
As the knight entered the ward, he didn’t have far to look to find the source of the swordplay; two well-armed knights were slugging it out just inside the gate, trying to kill each other in the area between the gatehouse and the massive keep. The knight on horseback unsheathed his enormous broadsword as he charged towards them, yanking his enthusiastic charger to a halt and trying not to lose his balance as he dismounted. The horse didn’t seem to want to come to a complete halt, which meant the knight nearly lost his footing with the momentum. But he was off his horse, broadsword gleaming wickedly in the early afternoon sun. He was ready for battle.
Although the knight was focused on the combatants, he could see people in his periphery, standing and watching. As he swung his broadsword in a swift, controlled motion, preparing to enter the fight, he could hear hissing off to his right.
“Maddoc,” someone was calling his name. “Maddoc, hold.”
Sir Maddoc du Bois came to an unsteady halt, and the only reason he stopped at all was because he recognized the voice. He could see his liege, David de Lohr, Earl of Canterbury, standing on the great retractable stairs that led up into Canterbury’s red-stoned keep. David was waving him over. Broadsword still flexed defensively in front of him, Maddoc edged his way over to his liege.
His expression, once stone-hard and focused, was now rippling with some confusion. “My lord?” he asked as he drew near. “What goes on here?”
David, a handsome man with graying blond hair who had been a very great knight in his youth, was actually grinning. More than that, he looked very calm for a man with two knights battling it out in front of him. He crooked his finger at Maddoc, beckoning him closer. Maddoc obeyed.
“Those two idiots have been dueling for about an hour,” he told him. “Leave them alone. One of them is about to break the other soon.”
That explanation didn’t help Maddoc’s confusion. Still, he had his sword up as he watched the two men try to kill each other. But he was beginning to see exhaustion in their movements now that David had brought it to his attention.
“What goes on, my lord?” he asked the obvious question. “Who are they?”
David chuckled. “Adalind is home.”
Maddoc had no idea what the man was speaking of. “What do you mean?”
David accepted a dented chalice of ale from a servant who emerged from the keep and extended it to him. His eyes were on the fighters as he spoke to Maddoc.
“Adalind,” he repeated. “My granddaughter – Christina’s daughter, the one who has been at court these five years past. You remember Adalind, do you not?”
Maddoc did. He nodded his head. “Of course, my lord,” he replied. “The little girl with the….” He caught himself before he could say it. The little girl with the bucked teeth who used to follow me around like a lost puppy. Instead, he cleared his throat and tried to cover his stumble. “The little girl with the hair down to her knees. I remember her well.”
David laughed softly. “You are too tactful for your own good, Maddoc,” he replied. “She was the girl with teeth like a rabbit and a penchant for making a nuisance out of herself. For some reason, she liked you in particular although I have no idea why.”
He spoke the last few words drolly. Maddoc gave him a half-grin, finally lowering his sword as the two knights continued to hack away at each other. It was no great secret that Maddoc du Bois was a man of great honor, skill, and had a particular reputation for being an object of many ladies’ affections.