Otto’s wooden pattens sounded noisily across the drawbridge in the stillness of the evening. He could breathe more easily once he reached the outer courtyard. Somewhere an owl hooted, and he paused, large hands on narrow hips, to look up at the vast night sky. The darkness was infinite, studded with tiny twinkling stars. A soft breeze brushed his cheek, like a caress which was long overdue. He had not known true affection for many years.
From an early age, Otto had learned that conquering neighboring lands to expand the Darkmoor estate was his life’s highest purpose. It was all Lord Ulric lived for and dreamed of. He had seen height, strength, and natural fighting ability in his only son, and ensured that young Otto developed into the mighty warrior he was today. TheFeared One. The leader of the legendary knights of Darkmoor.
But with every passing year, Otto silently questioned his father’s vision more and more. This latest squabble with Kenmar should have been just that. Not a bloodbath that saw the ageing Lord Ulric cut down from his charger to die in his son’s arms.
“Otto?” The voice came out of the darkness, making him startle.
“Who goes there?” he challenged, one hand instantly reaching for his sword.
“’Tis only I. Your cousin Guy.”
Otto’s stance relaxed as his eyes made out the looming figure of the Earl of Rossfarne coming from the stable block, his broad shoulders and curling dark hair illuminated by a flickering torch attached to the granite wall. “What in heaven’s name are you doing out here at such an hour?” he demanded. But before the man could answer, he extended his arm and the two clasped each other’s forearms in time honored tradition. In addition to being kinsmen, Guy and Otto had been fast friends and alliessince childhood, and the battle-scarred knight was one of very few men in whom Otto would declare full and complete trust.
“I could ask the same of you!” Guy declared, clapping him on the shoulder with a heavy hand. “Is this not your wedding night?”
“Pray, do not go there,” Otto growled. “We do not all enjoy the same wedded bliss as you and your good wife.”
Guy held up a palm in a show of understanding. “I know that yours is not a love match. But I hope in time you may find some degree of happiness with Ariana of Kenmar.”
“I am not so ambitious as to seek happiness,” Otto declared, slapping at an insect which buzzed near his unshaven cheek.
“Come now. It is not so much to ask.” Guy folded his arms across his muscular chest, his eyes dancing in the torchlight.
Otto couldn’t help his heart softening at the sight. Not so long ago, the Earl of Rossfarne had been a broken man, both physically and emotionally. Now, he was not only back at full health, but he also boasted that rare thing, a happy hearth and home. A beautiful wife and a baby on the way.
“Aye, well,” he muttered cryptically. Though Guy had found love and contentment, Otto was not so naïve as to believe these things were there for the taking. Not for men such as himself.
“I am glad to have seen you. I will make my way home at first light. That’s why I’m out here—checking my horse is fit and well, ready for the long journey east.” Guy inclined his head towards a half-open stable door, where a glossy chestnut mare pawed impatiently at the ground.
Otto nodded in understanding. Guy had served King Edward for many years and no matter how many servants he had in the stables, he could not rid himself of the habit of taking full responsibility for the horse that carried him into battle.
“You are not staying for tomorrow’s joust?”
Guy’s mouth twitched up at the corners. “Do you wish to see me clapping your victory from the stands?”
“My victory is not guaranteed,” Otto countered.
“I beg to differ.” Guy leaned back against the bailey wall and gazed up at the starry sky, his expression growing dreamy with nostalgia. “I like to remember our jousts when we were boys, and I had some chance of beating you.”
“That’s not how I remember it.” Otto schooled his face into a serious expression, but he could not hold it for long. Both men smiled at one another, lost for a moment in the safe memories of a childhood summer. “I trust your horses and your men have been treated well during your stay?” Otto knew a brief stab of remorse that he had not paid more attention to the wellbeing of his cousin, who had answered his plea for assistance within days of Lord Ulric’s death. The arrival of Guy, complete with a small guard of well-trained soldiers, had helped smooth the choppy waters between his father’s funeral and today’s hastily arranged marriage.
Guy inclined his head. “Well indeed. I fear I have grown too used to the luxuries of Darkmoor. My castle at Rossfarne will seem bleak and empty after these weeks of company. You keep a fine army, cousin. I have learned a lot from training with the knights of Darkmoor.”
“You are too kind.” Otto clapped him on the shoulder, conscious of how evenly matched they were in height and strength. “But do not pretend you haven’t been counting the days until you can return to your lovely wife.”
Guy laughed. “That I will not do. I have missed Kitty, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.”
“You’re a lucky man,” Otto stated, with genuine feeling. “Do not let me keep you out of doors on this night, especially with such a long ride ahead of you.”
“I’ll take my leave.” Guy paused for a moment. “But should you ever need my assistance, my friend, please send word right away.” His sharp gaze flickered over Otto’s face. “I see no need to fret over the fortunes of Darkmoor,” he added softly. “England’s greatest fortress is safely in the hands of our greatest warrior.”
“Get out of here, man, before you have me blushing like a maid,” Otto retorted, raising a hand in farewell as Guy picked his way back through the courtyard towards the keep.
A faint wicker from the stables told him that he had been spotted.
Otto felt a smile crack the rugged lines of his face as he smelled the sweet scent of hay and raised his palms to greet another old friend.
“Hello, girl,” he whispered, running a hand along the smooth, muscular neck of his favorite black mare.
