Royal Feud

Chapter 26

Chapter 26

The clang of steel striking steel filled the air as Delvin walked through the lists. T Pairs of men fought each other, wielding axes and swords, the king's troops commingling with Ishton's soldiers. Delvin stopped next to Hugh, observing Langston as he sparred with Gordon. Standing with his feet braced wide apart, he rested his left hand on the hilt of his sword, unconsciously flexing and releasing his right hand down at his side. "What do you think of Langston's skill?" Delvin asked.

"He is not very experienced, but he has a good grasp of the basic techniques. He still has a lot to learn before he becomes a knight, but he shows promise." "What do you think of his character?"

"Langston has an easy-going manner." Hugh answered. "He has already made friends with several of the other men. He has not shirked any duty I have assigned him. For example, he worked just as hard as anyone with the mangonels." Delvin nodded then stepped forward when he saw Gordon disengage from the

younger man. Langston wiped an arm across his brow as Gordon greeted Delvin.

"I will take over now, Gordon," Delvin announced, drawing his sword. "Aye, milord." The younger knight bowed his head and walked past Delvin as he

advanced on to the field.

"Good morrow, milord," Langston said.

"Ready?" Delvin asked. He eased into a fighting stance as Langston raised his sword and moved into

position. "Aye, milord," Langston answered.

Delvin's first few hits were tempered as he tested Langston's abilities. As the younger man easily deflected his blows, Delvin increased the pace of his attack, placing his strikes randomly to keep Langston off balance. When Langston suddenly took the initiative, attacking instead of merely defending himself, Delvin counterattacked, driving the younger man back.

Unexpectedly, the memory of Hermione's pleased expression when she learned about. Langston came to Delvin's mind. He swung his sword, cutting through Langston's breeches, slashing the younger man's thigh and drawing blood. Unable defend himself against the ferocity of Delvin's attack, Langston staggered back as he tried to ward off the furious blows. He tripped and went down, lying prone on his back. Delvin pressed the point of his sword against Langston's throat as he stared down at the helpless man.

Appalled at his loss of control, Delvin jerked his sword away from Langston's neck. He never let anger rule him in battle, let alone in the lists. Shaking off his incomprehensible animosity, he reached out his left arm to the prostrate man. Langston stared up at him for a long moment, then grasped Delvin's arm and allowed Delvin to pull him to his feet.

Turning his back to his opponent, Delvin walked a few feet away. He took a slow, deep breath. This was naught but a training session, and it was time he treated it as such. When he was back in control, he turned, sword posed. "Ready?" he asked. "Aye." Langston's voice was grim, and his breathing was rapid.

Delvin slowly engaged the younger man. When he was sure he had mastered his anger, or whatever it was that had caused his aberrant lapse, he began to fight more aggressively, testing Langston, determined to treat him as he would any other knight in training. After a few minutes he had learned what he needed to know about the less experienced man's level of skill and his strength. Delvin stepped back and sheathed his sword. Langston bent over with one hand on his thigh, gasping for breath. "You may stay and complete your training," Delvin informed Langston.

"Thank you, milord." Langston stood and wiped the sweat off his brow with his sleeve. Delvin nodded briskly and strode back to where Hugh and Gordon watched on the

sidelines.

After Gordon left them to resume his bout with Langston, Hugh queried, "Delvin,

what was that all about? I have not seen you lose your temper on the field since you

were but a lad."

"I was merely giving Langston a chance to show his true colors. If he is Morefy's agent, what better opportunity could he have to do me harm?" The excuse sounded weak even to his own ears. He turned away from Hugh's skeptical glance and stared at Langston as he engaged Gordon. "I am still not convinced Langston is not Morefy's agent, so keep a close watch on him."

"Aye, milord, I shall do that," Hugh answered.

Light filtered through the stained glass windows in the chapel, draping the interior with a warm glow. Since coming to Ishton Hermione had attended morning mass chapel each day with the entire household, but she had not let the prayers, liturgy, or the Scripture readings penetrate her hardened heart. As she stood beside Father Michael, she felt the serenity of the sanctuary beckoning her.

"How are you doing, my child?" the priest asked.

"I am well, Father," Hermione replied. "Lady Lucy has treated me as if I were her own daughter, and Lord Ishton has been kind and considerate." "That is good. However, I was asking about the condition of your soul, my child.

'Tis of much more importance than your earthly comfort. The last time we spoke you had such hostility toward God. Has He eased the bitterness in your heart?" Hermione stared at the floor. The priest's words seemed to echo in the hollowness of

her soul and in the hushed stillness of the chapel. "I have been praying for you, my child. Have you been praying, as I suggested?"

"I do not see the point, Father." Hermione raised her head and met the priest's wise,

kind eyes. "God has clearly abandoned me and left me on my own." Father Michael shook his head. "My child, God never abandons us. We just stop seeking Him. "Tis why He seems so far away from you, because you have turned your

back on Him. God loves you, Hermione."

"No, He does not. If He did, He would never have let me suffer as He has." "God is not the cause of evil in the world, my child. 'Tis a fallen, sinful world we have made from the paradise He created for us. Sometimes evil happens, and we suffer for it. But God is our strength and our sanctuary. He is our ever-present help in times of trouble. He permits our sufferings and then overrules them for His glory and for our good. God uses the sufferings in our lives to mold us and shape us so that we may become more like our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Come, my child, we will pray together so that you may know His love and acceptance."

Hermione could think of no gracious way to refuse, so reluctantly followed the priest as he made his way to the front of the chapel. The priest genuflected and went down to his knees in front of the altar. Her heart resentful and sullen, Hermione went through the motions as she crossed herself and knelt beside the priest.

"Dear Lord Jesus," Father Michael prayed, "thank You for your death upon the cross where You took our sins upon Yourself. Help Hermione to know that you love her so much that even if she had been the only person in the entire world You would have died for her and for her alone. Dear Lord Jesus, help Hermione to know that there is no greater love than Your love for her. Help her to see that Your love is faithful and kind, that Your love will never fail her, and that You will never leave her nor forsake her. Help Hermione to give to You all her burdens, all her pain, all her sufferings. Help her to present her pain and suffering to you as a sacrifice of love, a reflection of Your own sacrifice of suffering for each of us. Show her that Your grace is sufficient for her. Give her Your peace that surpasses all understanding. Give her the joy that only comes from being in Your presence."

Each of the priest's words was like a spear piercing her innermost being, chiseling her heart and stripping the hard shell she had erected. Tears slipped unheeded out of her closed eyes and dripped down her cheeks. She felt enveloped and surrounded by love and peace.

"I have always loved walking up here," Lucy remarked. "The air is always sharper and clearer, somehow. And the view is spectacular."

She stopped at a crenel to gaze at the woods in the distance and drew her mantle closer around her against the chilly air. Still in the midst of their winter hibernation, the trees remained bare of foliage with only the grays and browns of their bark visible from this distance. Lucy inhaled the robust scent of malt from the alewife's fire. "Aye" Wyham agreed. ""Tis a relaxing retreat from the noise and bustle of the

castle." "I am glad you suggested this walk, milord. What are your plans now that Morefy has been routed?" "The king has given me leave to remain here at Ishton for a month."

"That is good. I know Delvin will enjoy your company, as will we all." Wyham cleared his throat. "Truly, milady, I am hoping that you and I will be able to get to know each other better."

"I would like that. I always enjoy spending time with our guests."

"Lady Lucy, Lord Ishton has granted me permission to court you."

Lucy's eyes widened, and her jaw dropped open. Seeing his gentle smile, she recovered some of her composure, closing her mouth and dropping her gaze from his. Her heart pounding as if she had just completed a race, she placed her hand over her chest to regain her poise.

"If my suit is unwelcome to you, I will of course understand and leave as soon as

possible."

Lucy was stunned. She had had no inkling that the courtier was interested in her, and she had never even considered remarrying. Glancing at Wyham, who was now looking out over the countryside, she studied his face. He was a very attractive man. She had admired his sophistication and savoir-faire but knew he was completely different from Gavin, who had been first and foremost a warrior.