The Knight's Wife - Part 1

The wind whistled and howled over the sprawling highlands.

Under the dense grey clouds, which churned ominously and occasionally thundered, three figures - a knight, his wife and a squire were silently making their way through the empty land, on equally silent horses towards a distant, newly acquired manor.

"Are we there yet M'lord?" the Squire croaked miserably.

"The forest," the Knight grunted. "We need to find the forest first."

"My throat aches so," the Squire whined. "I feel I might perish soon from my thirst."

"Then be silent," the Knight replied irritably. "You will get plenty of mead and a warm bed for the night. If only we could find the forest."

The third figure, Isabel being her name, mutely followed in wake of the two men. Her long yellow hair streamed and whipped in the wind, like a banner. She had long ago given up trying to cover her face. No matter how well she fastened the cloak's hook, it just kept blowing off. She had a round youthful face of a girl barely out of her teens, but it had a stiff poise. The dark eyes beneath the fair brow looked out at the world warily.

She had known before the marriage, that life as a Knight's wife was never easy. But she had also not expected life to test her mettle as soon as they had trotted out of her father's castle.

Her husband had told her they were heading towards their new manor, but he had forgotten to mention that it would be a week's worth of traveling. A week of long journey, scarce food and fitful sleep while camping under an open sky.

She had found this out from the small, murmured squabbles the Knight and his Squire seemed to get into constantly. The Squire, also newly acquired from her father's court, was equally unhappy about the lengthy journey.

As though hearing her thoughts the Knight fell behind to her side.

"M'lady," he murmured. "I trust you won't be perishing soon, like my dear Squire?"

An unwilling smile broke out on Isabel's face. Whatever else, she was not unappreciative of humour.

"I will keep death at bay for awhile," she replied, brushing off small strands of hair which sought refuge in her mouth. "As long as we do not get caught in the rain. Then it's journey might be more speedy."

"Agreed," the Knight cast a furtive look at the clouds. "But I assure you we are not far from our destination, where we might be safe for the night."

"As you say M'lord," she murmured in a tone which she hoped conveyed wifely understanding.

The Knight clicked his tongue and shook his reins. His horse dutifully trotted faster, surpassing the Squire's. The Knight briefly turned around to cast a quick look at his wife again. She could not make much of his expression. Perchance he was thinking back to their wedding like her?

She could recall it clear as day. The long gloomy church ceremony, the wedding feast full of rowdy guests and the sullen glare of her elder sister who the Knight had rejected in her favour. There was not much affection lost between the sisters, the eldest of which was busy running her father's castle after their mother's untimely death. She had hoped for an escape, to be the mistress of her own lot. But she had been thwarted by her younger sister.

"You just wait," the elder sister had hissed at her as they were preparing to depart. "You will regret the day you agreed to marry that man. What do you know of men? And what do you know about running a castle?"

"Sister," Isabel had calmly replied. "There was not much either you or I could have done. The contract was decided by father and the Knight. Did you forget?"

"Oh I'm sure you gave him a lot of comely eyes when I was not looking," the elder sister persisted.

"I did no such thing, and you should know that of me," the younger one replied, her cheeks burning. She still held out her hands, pleading, "Come Sister, we should not part on these terms. Someday, we might need each other's support."

But the eldest turned her back and left without even so much as a farewell.

And here they were, trudging wearily over endless hills, their destination nowhere in sight. The younger sister was already feeling something akin to regret. But it was only the fifth day after their wedding. Maybe she would feel better when she had a roof over her head and proper food in her belly.

The Knight turned away from his young wife's impassive face, ruminating. He was aware his decision had thrown the Lord and his family in a turmoil, but he did not regret it. Marriage was for a lifetime. At least the church and their Lord and Saviour told them so. And he sought a companion who he could look forward to seeing at the end of a long day.

Where the elder sister had a harried brow and a quick tongue, the younger sister had a calm demeanour and silent ways which appealed to the Knight's battle weary soul. The elder sister was undoubtedly a capable house mistress, but she reminded him too much of his mother. A loud, sharp tongued woman who had not spared much affection on anyone.

Whatever else, he was confident that she would survive this journey. Whilst she was dainty in stature, the youngest was a hardy traveller according to her father.

The wind continued to howl and did it's best to blow the horses off course, but the tough creatures kept trudging back on track. And near nightfall, they could even see a thin line of trees in the distance, a mere hour's journey.

"Almost there," the Knight told the sullen faced Squire and his wife.

"Small mercies," the Squire muttered under his breath, which both the Knight and Isabel pretended they couldn't hear. But secretly, Isabel was pleased too. She urged her horse to catch up with the Knight's.

"M'lord. What place are we staying at? Do you have a friend who lives in the forest?"

"You'll see," the Knight spoke gruffly. "I think you might like it."

'It' turned out to be a charming two storey inn, with smoke curling from it's chimney, which formed a pretty picture against the backdrop of the tall pine trees. It was still twilight, with stars twinkling in a sky which was half inky blue and half orange-pink.

"It's beautiful," Isabel whispered, taking in the pretty little place. And as if to compliment it, a robust man with pink cheeks and an enormous flaming red beard emerged from the inn to greet them.

"Welcome, welcome," he spoke with an expansive smile and open arms. "Welcome to my humble abode. Will you be staying the night, Sir Knight? Oops," he chuckled. "That was a bit cheeky of me if you don't mind."

"Not at all," the Knight spoke solemnly. "Yes, we will be staying the night. I hope you can accommodate the three of us?"

"Well, it's a small place you see. There's a room for yourself and your lady," the innkeeper bowed in Isabel's direction. "But you're Squire's got to sleep in the stable."

The Squire's face turned red with indignation.

"You ask a member of the Court to sleep in the stable?" he blustered at the innkeeper.

"Well, we used to let people stay in the bar. But we stopped doing that since the last lot ran away with my mead in the middle of the night. So no can do."

The Squire opened his mouth to protest some more. The Knight cut him short.

"That suits us perfectly," he told the innkeeper, ignoring his Squire's indignant look. "My lady is much weary and will appreciate some time for herself. And my squire and myself will happily sleep in your barn."

"Very well," the innkeeper rubbed his hands. "I am sure I can get the missus to stir something in her pot for you. And you will surely not leave without partaking some of my mead. I brewed with my own two hands. Hilda!" he yelled towards the inn.

A healthy middle aged lady with matching pink cheeks emerged wiping her hands on her apron. "What is it now Tom?"

"Stayovers! Will you show the lady around the house?"

"Och, poor lass," Hilda moved towards the wife's side. "Come my dear, surely you are much tired."

Isabel dismounted from her horse and handed Tom the reins. She then allowed Hilda to take her frozen arm and tuck it into her plump warm one, as the worthy lady showed her around the place. Her room, though slightly musty with a lingering smell of hay, had a cosy bed stuffed full of blankets. Hilda also promised to bring in a bath of hot water and hot bricks for the bed.

Afterwards, Isabel explored the backyard which had an outhouse, a hen coop and a small fenced paddock populated by a goat and couple of pigs.

She was surprised to discover that the forest edged very close to the house, the towering ancient pine trees rustling and creaking in the still high wind. Up close, she felt a strong sense of foreboding about the forest. Almost a sense of menace. It made her uncomfortable in a way she could not spell.

"The forest behind your house, does it have a name?" she asked that night as Hilda poured steaming hot water into a round wooden bath.

"Och," Hilda panted. "It is the Forgotten Forest. You'd do better to stay away from that place, my dear."

"Why is it called that?" Isabel asked even as she got ready to soak into the bath.

"I think my dear, people just like fanciful names. But I've heard a thing or two about it."

"Like what?" Isabel asked curiously.

"Of people who went in and never came back."

"I see," Isabel thought for a moment and then shrugged, deciding not to probe deeper into the matter. It was not her concern anyway. For them, it was a matter of a single night's stay. Tomorrow they'll be gone from this place and even forget about it like it's namesake.

But that is not how the story will go.

After the bath, when she is standing near the window brushing her long hair and looking out towards the forest, Isabel gets an indication of that.

A tiny indication.

Amongst the tall trees, receding into gloomy darkness, a pair of eyes are watching her. She sees them too. Only for a brief moment. A pair of luminous red eyes, large and floating off the ground.

Another blink of the eye, and they are gone.

Isabel stands frozen for a moment, unsure of what she has seen. It takes a while, but soon she relaxes and dismisses it as a product of a tired weary mind. Tomorrow she will tell her husband about it. For all she knows, they might even have a good laugh about it.

Next: The Clearing

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