Chapter One
Northumbria, 1320
Laila was in the stables. She had seen the rain clouds gathering and hurried to ensure her horse was prepared for the turn in the weather. The horse was fine, of course, safely stabled and enclosed from the elements, but Laila knew that he hated the rain, and so she always paid him a visit before it fell.
Her chestnut hair fell loosely around her shoulders and across her brow, stopping just short of her dark, intense eyes. Freckles adorned her nose and upper cheeks, and her dimples appeared at the mere thought of a smile.
“Come now, it’s all fine, my friend,” she said to the horse, running her hands over his snout. “It’s just a bit of rain.” And on cue, the drops began to patter against the roof. Unlike the castle’s meeting hall, the stable did leak, and a few buckets had been appropriately positioned to catch the stray drops. The horse looked back at her without amusement.
“Well, I can’t make it stop,” she said, staring right back into his eyes. “So, you will just have to endure.” The horse replied with a disapproving snort. “I’ll be back for you later,” she said. “Stay safe then, don’t get spooked.”
Laila knew she was late. The dinner bell had rung some time ago, but she didn’t have much of a mind for being timely. Who was there other than her grumbling father? She hated to listen to his whining, especially as he continued to drink, but still, she knew that he was terribly lonely, and so she put up with it.
Of course, she loved him as her father, but of late, he had become so dreadfully sullen that she found him often difficult to bear. It wasn’t her fault that he had no money and lived out in the middle of nowhere; he had accomplished that all on his own. Still, the longer she delayed dinner, the sullener he would be.
Laila threw her woolen hood up over her head and peered out of the stables but took a sudden pause. Her eyes followed the stretching beams that held up the thatch roof, past the rows of wooden stalls, to the far end of the stable building. There, past the piles of leather straps and riding equipment, her brothers’ horses were standing, looking quite bedraggled, and she felt her heart give a jump of excitement. They were back! Suddenly, she cursed herself for being late, and she hustled out into the castle yard.
She glanced hurriedly up at the walls as she dashed through the yard, frowning a bit as the rain splashed down. The castle was in horrible shape, anyone could see it, and Laila hated to see the slow degradation of her home. The banners lapped lazily in the northern breeze, wet from the sporadic rains, and slapped against the worn stone that had stood for near on a century. The woodwork along the walls was sagging from the weather, and clumps of moss clung to various crenelations in the roofing.
It had never been the grandest of castles, and Laila knew it. It was just another round stone tower with a circular wall put up by the conquerors two hundred years before and then improved upon in the century following as the region became increasingly dangerous. The outer wall had gotten larger, and more buildings had cropped up within, but still, the original stone tower stood at the center, never overshadowed.
Yet still, the castle stood against the winds and rains of England’s far North, looking out tentatively from the hilltop at the small surrounding valley. As the rain pattered down in its unending torrent, Laila knew her father would be pacing the hall, glancing up at the ceiling to ensure it wasn’t leaking and waiting for her arrival with a grumble.
The rain was dismal, and it had already turned much of the yard to muck. The castle residents had already taken shelter, save a few of the ill-equipped guardsmen lingering beneath the gate, and so she strode hurriedly through the empty space, kicking up mud behind her as she tried to hold her garments above the sludge, largely to no avail, until she burst into the hall.
“There she is!” Matthew exclaimed, leaping up from the bench on the far side of the table.
“I did not know you were back!” Laila exclaimed, taking Jacob into an embrace. “Forgive me; I would have come sooner.”
“There is nothing to forgive,” Jacob replied, stepping back so that Matthew could have his hug. Then he added with a grin, “Though you do smell something of the stables.”
“How have you faired, little sister?” Matthew asked after embracing her briefly. “Still playing stablemaster, is it?”
Her two brothers were fine lads, with full heads of hair, though the younger had always struggled to put up a proper beard. They were fit, having been trained with sword and lance since they were young, and they did not yet have lands of their own where they could sit and grow fat like their father. Jacob, the younger, had a splash of freckles that matched her own, with murky green eyes, while Matthew had the brown eyes and square jaw of a picture-perfect man-at-arms.
The light in the hall was dim as the hearth choked on dwindling firewood, and the candles did their utmost to illuminate the small stretches of the wall they were mounted upon. Laila finished welcoming her brothers and turned her attention to the head of the table. Their father sat there, slouched in his wooden seat, one hand on his cup and the other resting lazily on his armrest. He was older now, the wrinkles reaching up to wrap around his cheeks beneath his deep hazel eyes, his graying hair tied back but still, a loose strand or two hung carefree down and about his temples.
“What crime is there in caring for one’s horse?” Laila replied, taking down her hood. The rain had still found her face on her dash through the yard, and her hair clung to her forehead.
“A lady should not be late,” her father grumbled from the head of the table, “nor should she play with horses.”
“So, I have heard,” Laila said back.
“Come and sit, children; there are things we must discuss,” her father said with a frown, waving his hand to the servants, signaling to bring up the food.
“I worried for you every day, as always,” Laila said to her brothers, sliding onto the bench beside Jacob. “One hears such dreadful reports of the border.”
“It will take more than a few ragged Scotsmen to scare us,” Matthew said with a laugh. “The danger, I’m sure, is exaggerated.”
“There are bandits to be sure, raiders and the like,” Jacob added, “but they are oft to go running when they see English horse appear on a hill.”
“In any event, I am glad to see you both home safely,” Laila said.
The servants came in with a large dish of roasted fowl, accompanied by a basket of bread and a bowl of vegetables. Ceramic plates were set out with cutlery, and everyone began helping themselves to portions of the food while more wine was poured. When they were all seated with food and drink before them, their father raised his cup and announced a toast.
“My sons,” Edward said. “Welcome back from the frontier.”
“And it is good to be back, Father,” Matthew said, “I am glad we outran this dreaded rain.”
