Page 11 of A Knight in Tarnished Armor

De Ros reined in and turned in the saddle, his expression as black as his hair. "God's blood! And I had thought the battlefield loud. I never knew one cat could make such noise!"

"That's Dismas. He's the loudest and unfortunately he's here in front. "

"Dismas?"

"Aye. After Saint Dismas."

De Ros moved his mount toward the bridge. "You named your cat, that cat, after a saint?"

"All my cats," she answered brightly, trotting behind. "My aunt, she is the abbess of Saint Lawrence convent. She taught me letters and their order by memorizing the names of the saints. Ambrose, Bartholomew, Crispin, Dismas, Elmo, Friard, Genesius, Honoratus, Ignatius, Jerome, Kentigern, Lambert, Michael, Neot, Osmund, Patrick, Quintus, Raymond, Swithun, Thomas, Ursula, Vitus, Wenceslas, Ximenes, Yves, Zeno," she recited.

"Most of those are male names."

She laughed. " ‘Tis why you are complaining about the noise. Male cats always whine. Being cooped up in these baskets and cages limits their territory." She paused for a moment, then added, "I've always found great similarities between cats and mankind.

He stopped and turned in the saddle, giving her a long and telling look.

She merely smiled.

He turned back around and continued silently until they were moving across the stone bridge. The farther they traveled over the rushing river, the louder the cats became. The ducks had begun to quack too.

De Ros reined in his horse and turned in the saddle with a pained look. He glared pointedly at the cages.

She winced slightly. "The noise grows worse because of the sound of the river. The ducks like it and the cats don't." Just as she finished, four of the cats screeched so loudly even she flinched. "They're frightened. Ignatius, Jerome, Kentigern, and Lambert were tied in a sack and thrown in a stream to drown. Can you imagine anything so cruel?"

"Aye."

She opened her mouth to respond, but stopped when de Ros spun back around so swiftly he almost made her light-headed. He sat atop his still horse, staring ahead, his body straight and rigid.

In the distance, a flash of bright sunlight caught her eye. She shielded her eyes with a hand and searched the horizon.

The sun was still high and bright enough to shine in sharp rays off the polished helm of a lone knight who blocked the road ahead of them.

With the barest of commands de Ros shifted his mount in front of Linnet.

She braced herself on the pommel of the saddle and craned her neck around his big body.

"I cannot see. Who—"

"Quiet! Stay close!" he warned quietly, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

She shifted so she could see around him. The war- horse beneath the unknown knight was stomping and blowing as if the animal sensed a need to charge. Neither animal nor man wore any identifying markings. The mount's trappings were plain and the knight's shield was a field of black. His sword was sheathed, but the steel tip of his lance glinted in the bright sun.

The knight raised a gauntleted hand.

'Twas not a greeting.

He lowered his visor with a challenging snap.

De Ros, who was sans armor, cursed violently and drew his sword. He pointed to the left of the river. "Ride into those woods!" he shouted. "Quickly!" He whirled his mount around.

But she sat, frozen.

The black knight raised his shield and charged.

So did de Ros.

They pounded toward each other. De Ros's horse was small and swifter than the huge Norman breed of war- horse the knight needed to support his full armor. But the knight's lance was pointed directly at de Ros, whose speedy mount ate up the ground between them, grass and dust flying.