Chapter Six

Richard stood in front of Roy and Wallace; he'd selected Roy to ride to Castle Wayne and Wallace to ride south to Metropolis.

"You will each be given four of our fastest horses apiece . . . three of the steeds are to be used as remounts." He gave them each a hard glare. "You are to ride at full gallop . . . You will stop to change horses only when the one being ridden is so spent, it collapses."

Roy and Wallace looked at him in shock, but nodded their heads in grim understanding.  The lives of countless people . . . countless children . . . were being entrusted to them. They had to be willing to sacrifice their horses in order to carry out their desperate mission . . .

Roy's arrival at Castle Wayne was met with shock. The horse he'd been riding was nearly spent. It was his last; he'd lost the third horse well over four hours ago. As they rode through the castle gates, his loyal steed, as if realizing he'd accomplished his mission, collapsed.

As his horse fell under him, Roy released his stirrups and jumped clear. He rolled a few times and finally came to a stop. Exhausted he crawled slowly to where Wind had fallen. As Wind whinnied to his master, Roy gently lifted his head and stroked him one last time. Wind gave a final whinny and died.

"Thank you, old boy . . . You're the real hero today. You and your three companions. You each gave your life so that innocent lives might be saved." He bowed his head in silent prayer. Then shaking himself back to reality, Roy stood unsteadily and began walking toward the Castle's main hall.

"Sir Roy!" Roy turned at the sound of his name. "What is the meaning of this? You rode a horse to death? Lord Wayne shall hear about this outrage!" Captain Gordon had walked up him, shouting in anger. Roy nodded his head tiredly.

"Aye, Captain Gordon, Lord Wayne will hear of this vile deed, and of others even more so. I have messages from Sir Richard and their Majesties that require Lord Wayne's immediate attention."

Gordon looked disbelievingly at the young knight. Then reluctantly nodded his head. Roy Harper might be young and reckless at times, but he had never mistreated an animal in Gordon's recollection. No, these must be dire tidings indeed.

"Very well, Roy," Gordon agreed. "Let us away to the main hall." Roy nodded.

****

The message from their Majesties galvanized Castle Wayne into action. Wayne immediately ordered Alfred to set up a hospital. Lady Selina seemed to know something about the healing arts and had volunteered to stay and help. Wayne's experience with war was that the sooner the wounded were transported to clean facilities the greater their chances of survival. His staff surgeon and apothecary's assistant would accompany them to the front lines. There they'd set up a field hospital, but as soon as the wounded were stable enough for traveling, they'd be sent back to Castle Wayne for recuperation.

Wayne also ordered temporary housing for the inevitable refugees that war always displaced. Castle Wayne's location between the armies to the north and the capital city to the south would make it a refugee's safe haven. Field hands were working around the clock bringing in whatever feed and food crops that were ready for storage. In some cases, they were harvesting crops that hadn't reached maturity. These would be set up in special drying areas and hopefully would prove useful as feed, perhaps.

"That is, if Castle Wayne still stands after the coming battle," Wayne said grimly. He stood on his balcony overlooking the Tyne. All those years ago when he'd accepted the guardianship of his best friends' son seemed to have passed in a blink. Wayne's whole existence since Richard's arrival at Castle Wayne had been devoted to the training of the young man whom he'd grown to regard as his own son. "Will you be ready, Richard?" he wondered aloud, then amended, "*Are* you ready, son?"

****

"Don't be ridiculous, Barbara!" Gordon said. He was distracted by the countless details that needed checking out. "You are *not* going into battle! Just who do you think you are? Some kind of Amazon warrior? You are a Gordon! And Gordon women support their men from the sidelines. Now run along and help Alfred set up the hospital. I'm busy!"

Gordon stomped away, marking his checklist as he walked. Barbara stood in the middle of the mass of confusion of  men, women, and children who were pushing, pulling, or otherwise hauling carts, horses, other farm animals, and all manner of materials.

"Hey, miss!" "Please, make way there, milady!" "Lady Barbara, what are you doing in the middle of the street? You'll be killed for sure!" Barbara turned despondently and began walking towards the main hall, when she suddenly stopped. This caused a chain reaction behind her that resulted in several carts being jammed together, men and women shouting in anger, and finally a fistfight breaking out. Barbara, however, was oblivious to the whole thing.

Smiling suddenly she lifted her riding skirt and ran to the main hall, quickly making her way up towards Richard's apartments. She hurried down the hallway that led to Richard's private quarters. Hearing voices coming from the opposite direction, she snatched her kerchief from her neck and began dusting the paintings that hung along the hall. She kept her back to the two women who passed by her.

"And he is just so handsome with his raven hair and blue eyes," sighed one.

"Aye, but he is promised to another now," despaired the other.

"But not for lack of trying on *my* part, I assure you," the first one said. "I practically removed my bodice in his presence, and you know what the young gentleman said?"

"No! What?" prompted her companion.

"My lady, I'm sure you'll catch your death out here, dressed like that. Please, take my cloak . . . I have another!" She laughed. "What could I do but take his cloak? I *still* have it!"

"Well, at least you have something of Sir Richard's. All I have left are my dreams . . . " Their voices quickly faded down the hall.

Barbara snorted after they were safely out of earshot. She'd been a witness to many of these young maids' overtures upon Richard. At the time she hadn't understood why they'd so greatly annoyed her; or, perhaps, she had known but was unable or unwilling to admit it to herself. When she thought of Richard now, it seemed as if she'd been in love with him all of her life. Her feelings for him had changed so gradually and over such a long period of time, that she couldn't recall a single moment when she didn't love him.

She smiled radiantly in sudden happiness. Barbara couldn't blame any of those poor girls anymore for throwing themselves so brazenly at her Richard. If she hadn't been hiding her true feelings for him from herself, she might've offered herself up to him a long time ago, too. Now, every time Barbara thought of Richard, her whole being just seemed to light up with an inner glow. If this was love, then everyone should experience it; it was just too wonderful for words.

Her soaring spirits suddenly came crashing down. If only they hadn't discovered their mutual love on the eve of war. In a state of despair, Barbara sneaked into Richard's quarters. She quickly made her way to his wardrobe. Opening it, she looked for anything that might prove as a suitable disguise for her. Richard and she were the about same height, but it went without saying that his clothing would be rather large for her. Nevertheless, she began to rummage through his wardrobe.

Barbara quickly found clothing that would suit her needs: the simple homespun woolen trousers that Richard preferred for every day use and an overly large linen shirt and leather jerkin that laced from the front. She found the sleeves for the shirt and quickly laced them to the shoulder eyelets. The too large shirt and jerkin would help hide her gender from curious eyes. Luckily she was wearing her own riding boots already; she'd been exercising her horse that morning when she'd accosted Captain Gordon.

Barbara caught her reflection in the dresser mirror. "I look like a maid dressed in men's trousers," she groused. She looked thoughtfully at her waist-length hair. A pair of cutting shears lay on Richard's dresser. "Should I do it?" she asked herself aloud. She shook out her hair to its full length. "*Could* I do it?" She carefully curled a strand in her finger. "Richard will think that he's gotten himself betrothed to a lunatic!" She shrugged in resignation. "He'll think that anyway when he sees me dressed in his trousers!" She grabbed the cutting shears with new determination. "He'll probably drop me off at Arkham Asylum in Gotham Town personally!"

Voices outside immediately froze her in place. She saw the door handle move. Ohmygod, they were coming in here! She quickly climbed into the wardrobe and crouched as low as she possibly could. Who else would come into Richard's chamber while he was away? Who besides Alfred, anyway? And neither of the voices she heard sounded even remotely like Alfred.

On an impulse, Barbara cracked the wardrobe's door slightly open. The voices were clearer. Male and female. Oh no! thought Barbara. Please don't tell me that I'm about to witness two lovers sneaking a liaison in Richard's rooms? They were not in line of sight to her so she couldn't see who they were.

"I tell you this is ridiculously dangerous! Do you know what they can do to us if we're discovered together?" the woman's voice sounded angry.

"Yes, my dear. They'll suspect that we were having some sort of tryst," he said, unconcernedly. As he spoke, Barbara thought that the man's voice sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place the woman's voice. She listened carefully as he continued.

"And why shouldn't we? You are a serving maid who has willingly offered herself to any man looking for a tumble in the hayloft!" At this announcement the male moved into Barbara's line of sight. It was Rapier! The King's messenger who'd arrived almost a week past now. But who was the woman? At that moment, Bess walked into her line of vision.

What were Rapier and Bess doing in Richard's chambers? And why would getting caught together be dangerous for them?

"You're a fool, Rapier. Now what is so all-consuming important that it cannot wait?" Barbara noticed that Bess' spoken English had improved considerably. She no longer sounded like a mere serving girl. Bess looked at Rapier impatiently. Rapier's eyes narrowed in anger. He grabbed her violently by the arms and held her closely to him.

"I'll tell you what's so important. The Dark Lord wants something that is close to Sir Richard in order to use against him. Something that he has worn close to his body . . . like the Emerald Eye, although that's out of the question now, since he never removes it. The Dark Lord is not happy with you, my dear. You said that you'd be able to seduce Richard and obtain it. It seems, however, that Sir Richard finds you completely resistible."

Bess' beautiful features contorted into an ugly mask of hatred. Rapier grinned mockingly.

"Our Lord frowns on failure as you know; however, perhaps you can still make it up to our Master, by obtaining a suitable substitute . . . say, a religious medal or crucifix. You know these young knights . . . They actually believe in all of this chivalrous nonsense about how their knightly prowess is due to a direct intercession of their Heavenly Father." Rapier shrugged unconcernedly. "Even a handkerchief or a glove could work."

"Very well," Bess said, pulling herself free from Rapier's grasp. "You search the wardrobe, while I look on his dresser for any jewelry that he might have worn recently." At Bess' words, Barbara immediately crouched further inside the wardrobe. She saw a cloak hanging neatly on its hook. She took it and quickly covered herself, then burrowed even deeper into the clothing. Her heart pounding rapidly, her blood rushing in her ears, Barbara held her breath and sat as still as she could.

"Ah, what about this?" Rapier called to Bess.

"What about what?" she asked annoyed.

"His cloak. He surely must hold it carefully about himself during cold winter days."

"Don't be a fool, Rapier," Bess replied scornfully. "A cloak is worn as the outermost piece of clothing. The chances of it touching Sir Richard sufficiently for our Dark Lord's necromancy to work are very slim." Barbara felt a sudden surge of relief wash over her.

"Perhaps you're right, Bess," Rapier said. "But then, it is an extremely becoming color. Let me see how it looks on me!" He pulled the cloak off of Barbara and stopped surprised. He stared into Barbara's startled green eyes, and slowly began to grin. "Well, well, well . . . what do we have here?" he asked amused.

"What? What do you have?" Bess asked. She moved in closer and gasped in shock.

"I think I have just found exactly what our Dark Lord ordered . . . something very near and dear to our young Sir Richard . . ! The Emerald Chosen's Chosen!" Rapier began laughing at his own cleverness. Bess soon joined him.

****

Wallace stumbled on the uneven dirt road. He'd lost his last mount about ten miles back and had been on foot since daybreak. He took a sip from his water-skin. The contents were woefully low. His water had to last him several more hours. Metropolis was still another full-day's walk. He couldn't fail; the fate of Avalon depended on him. And the children . . . Richard had told him about the children . . .

"Fare thee well, Wallace," Richard said looking up him. "God speed!" Wallace saluted smartly then set off for Metropolis. He'd left feeling so proud and confident, so self-assured of success, but now he was in a near state of despair. King Orrin needed his garrison. His deplorably undermanned army was marching north to engage an inhuman enemy.

He *couldn't* fail . . ! He *wouldn't* fail . . ! His legs faltered . . . his knees gave way . . . darkness consumed him . . .

****

As consciousness seeped slowly back, Barbara assessed her situation. She felt herself being jostled uncomfortably. She was moving, then, probably in a carriage or a cart. She carefully slitted her eyes open. She was enveloped in total darkness; the air felt quite close and uncomfortably hot. She deduced that she was probably under some kind of tarpaulin. She was bound hand and foot and gagged as well. She felt like a plump goose about to be offered up for a Twelfth Night feast.

She fought like a wildcat, but was no match for the both of them. Rapier quickly placed a cloth over her mouth and she instantly lost consciousness. Her neck, legs and arms were stiff and cramped. She must have been like this for several hours at least. Had she been missed yet? Was anyone searching for her? She suddenly thought of Richard. Would she ever see him again?

She remembered the reason for her capture: They wanted her to get to him. Barbara began praying fervently that she never saw her betrothed again.

****

The savory smells of home cooking wended their way into his subconscious. Spices . . . thyme, rosemary . . . Aunt Iris used to cook her chicken soup with these spices. He felt suddenly homesick. He hadn't seen his aunt in several months. He opened his eyes. He was in a simple one-room cabin, lying on its sole bed. He looked across the room. An older gentleman sat on a rocking chair, quietly enjoying a pipe. A young girl stood by the hearth, diligently stirring a pot, then checking on the contents of a pan lying in the burning embers, then stirring and tasting from several more.

She seemed impossibly young to be able to orchestrate such a complicated symphony. He watched quietly for a few moments more, enjoying her virtuosity. Then, noticing his parched throat he asked for water. Or at least, that's what he had intended to do. What he actually did was utter an incomprehensible croak that startled his two benefactors.

"Here now," the young girl said smiling. "He's awake, Grampa! Would you care for a drink?" He nodded his head eagerly. She hurried to the table and carefully ladled water from a bucket into a cup. As she held the cup to his lips, Wallace noticed that it was chipped. It had a thin gold filament around the rim and a series of delicate pink flowers encircling it. He didn't see any other cups in the open. Could this be their only one? 

Wallace didn't care at the moment. He was so grateful for the water, he gulped it down in two swallows. "Please, may I have some more?" She nodded eagerly and soon returned with a second cup of water. Wallace sat up and carefully took the prized cup in his hands. He drank a bit slower this time, savoring the feel of the soothing water in his mouth and throat. When he was finally finished, he thanked his hosts.

"Where am I," he asked. "How far am I from Metropolis?"

"You're in Metropolis," the girl replied. "Or, at least, in the outskirts. Grampa and I found you about a half-day's ride from town. We put you in our cart and brought you home with us." She shrugged. "We figured that you must've been on your way into town anyway."

Wallace smiled gratefully. "I am most beholden to you and your grandfather, Miss . . ?"

"Oh, I'm no Miss, sir . . . I'm just a serving girl who takes care of her Grampa. Me name's Freyja." She curtsied shyly. Wallace smiled, stood and bowed a bit unsteadily.

"I'm honored to make your acquaintance, Lady Freyja. I am Sir Wallace West, currently in the service of Bruce Lord Wayne. I am on urgent King's business, Lady. Please can you show me where the King's garrison is located? I have never been to the capital city before."

Freyja blushed furiously. "May I, Grampa?"

Wallace spoke up. "Please, sir . . . I am on urgent King's business! I must away immediately to the King's garrison. Will you help, sir?"

"Aye," the old man replied nodding. "I served under King Orrin's own grandfather, Good King Athelwulf, when he fought against the Roman incursions. He was a good king, that one . . . united the Angles and the Saxons and successfully repelled numerous invasions from the mainland!" He turned to his granddaughter. "Freyja, take young Sir Wallace to the garrison. Lad, whatever help lies within our power to give is yours."

"Sir, I don't even know your name. Please, I must know to whom I am indebted!"

"My name is Eadred Athelstan . . . a goodly Saxon name, I wager. My great-great grandfather sailed the seas with the Norsemen," he added proudly. "But the Old Saxon ways are dying, lad. We no longer sail on dragon ships to discover and conquer new lands; we are farmers, or as in my case, an old cobbler who sits by the fire dreaming of the old days, waiting to die." He turned sadly away and sat back down in his rocker.

Wallace didn't know what to say. He looked at Freyja who was looking sadly at her grandfather. He reached his hand out and touched her arm tentatively. She turned tear-brimmed eyes to him, then just as quickly looked away.

"Let us hurry," she said. "The sun will set shortly."

They left quickly.

Chapter Seven

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