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An Unexpected Journey. (closed for M13)

Marcus entered the common room carrying his shield and travel bags, heading straight to speak to the innkeeper. The man saw him and immediately responded in a respectful air to the approaching knight.

"Greetings, Sir Knight. How may I be of service?"

"I seek a room for two. Two separate beds, plus food and drink for his eve."

"Of course, Sir. I have a room to spare for you. Upstairs, third room on the left is not in use... well until now. That'll be yours, Sir Knight."

"Thank you, my good man." The two quickly dealt with the cost of the lodgings and food, which Marcus paid for. He then looked and found Ashlin quickly, heading over to join his traveling companion. He dropped his bags over the bench seat beside where he would sit, then slide his scabbard and sword out of his belt and dropped it on the table while looking at the men at the other end of the table. His helm and shield came to rest at the end of the seat.

"We have a room for the night, and there will be some food coming to us soon." He dropped his gauntlets into his helm and took a casual look around the room. The two men at the end of the table seemed to loose interest in Ashlin, much to Marcus' pleasure. But the sight of a chain wearing figure coming down the stairs made Marcus tense.

The tall, broad shouldered blonde haired man walked straight over to where Marcus was sitting. He came to a halt right beside the knight, getting as close to him as he could.

"Greetings, Marcus."

"Hello, Derek."

"Cur!" Derek's hand went for the handle of the blade at his belt. Marcus slammed his hand over the wrist, pushing down as he stood up. Derek's free hand went to push Marcus back, but Marcus pushed the arm aside. "How dare you insult me in that manner, peasant!"

"I just handed back the same insult you gave me, bastard."

Derek's face went bright red as he pulled himself backward, wrenching his wrist free of Marcus' grip. He had the sword half drawn when Marcus' voice cut through the noise.

"Go ahead, Knight. Strike down an unarmed foe who has made no move against you except in his own defence. I shall also make it known that Sir Derek, vassal Knight of the Count of Grenwald is foregoing an honourable combat with a fellow knight of the realm."

"You are no knight. You are without any honour."

"I am without a liege, but I have honour, more than you do, Sir Derek. At least I don't deliberately insult nobles of the realm when I know better."

Derek stood motionless except for the movement of his chest as he breathed deeply. No one else in the common room moved or said a word as the two men looked at each other.

"Sir Derek, you know until there is a proclamation from His Majesty stating that I am no longer a knight, I am a knight with all the rights and responsibilities therein. You, and your brother knights, know why."

Derek slammed his sword into his scabbard, and straightened himself. He stalked over to where Marcus stood, facing him with little distance between them.

"We are glad that our new Lord had the good sense to remove you from our midst, peasant. It is so much better now there are only men of quality in my Lord's service now."

"Yes, many bastard sons of noble lords given a title to keep them out of harms way rather than a true born son of honest people who earned his title through deeds and actions. But then, your current Lord prefers to keep company similar to those of his own kind."

Derek's blade started to leave the scabbard once more, but stopped before it moved a fraction of an inch. Marcus looked at him calmly, his eyes challenging Derek to continue with his move. Derek turned, slapping his scabbard into Marcus' leg as he returned to the stairs, storming back to the upper level and returning to his room.

"My apologies, good folk. Some lingering tensions with those I once served beside." Marcus walked over to the innkeeper. "I am sorry for that disturbance, my good man. I am willing to take my customer elsewhere if -"

"No need, Sir Marcus. No need. You handled him well. Between you and I, he is an arrogant ass, and it was good to see him put in his place so well. You sit, the food will be there soon. Never mind what happened."

"Thank you again. I shall remember this place, and speak well of it to those looking for lodgings." The innkeeper beamed as Marcus returned to the table and sat down. He took a few deep breaths and turned his attention to Ashlin.

"That is not something that happens everyday, thankfully. It will be interesting to see if the others feel the same way as Sir Derek does, or if he is his normal prissy self."
 
As if in silent answer to her plea, Sir Marcus came through the doorway and headed straight for the innkeeper. Ash had started to get up to greet him but sank back onto the bench as he swept through the crowded room without even a glance in her direction. She shot a hasty glance toward the two at the other end of the table then refastened her eyes on the knight. He was talking business with the innkeeper. Her eyes fell to the old marred top of the trestle table, staring at the gouges, nicks and cuts. Some of the deeper ones were filled with black and made her shudder. She didn’t even want to think about what caused that.

"We have a room for the night, and there will be some food coming to us soon."

His voice brought her eyes up to his face as he joined her. Inwardly, she sighed in relief. The wild beat of her heart, simmered into a dull roar as Marcus dropped his bags onto the bench seat, then laid his sword on the table. Ash managed a slight nod of acknowledgement at his words. As she watched him, she noted a subtle change in his posture, felt tension invade their space. What could have caused that? Turning slightly on the bench she was sitting on, her eyes darted around the room but it was the man who suddenly stopped at their table, his eyes fastened on Sir Marcus as the stranger got up close and all too personal. Ash swiveled around to watch the exchange. It didn’t look friendly. A point that was soon confirmed by the other knight’s demeanor and tone.

Ashlin’s hand went to the hilt of the blade resting at her side, but that is all it did. Her fingers tightened around it as the exchange between the two knights seemed to heat up. It was only after the one called Sir Derek stormed off, having backed down from the look in Marcus’ eyes and it was only after Marcus’ words of apology to the general public gathered in the inn’s main room and to the innkeeper himself, that her hand came away from the blade.

Their food arrived as Marcus returned to the table and sat down and spoke to her directly.

"That is not something that happens everyday, thankfully. It will be interesting to see if the others feel the same way as Sir Derek does, or if he is his normal prissy self."

The food was simple but hot, a roasted chicken, some root vegetables accompanied by a loaf of bread. When the serving wench offered Ash an ale, Ash waved it away and requested water instead. A few figs rested on the serving platter and Ash reached for one of those and nibbled upon it before speaking.

“Someone from your past I gather, Sir Marcus? Who is he and what grudge does he have with you?"

She had sensed some animosity that went beyond anything superficial. This Sir Derek had a cross to bear and apparently, if he could have staked Sir Marcus to it and set it in fire, he would have.
 
The arrival of the food let Marcus turn his thoughts from the recent encounter with Derek and focus on more important matters, such has his traveling companion. But even the poor Ashlin soon was displaced by the smell of roasted meat and a recently baked loaf of bread. He ripped a corner off the loaf, and dipped it into the liquids around the base of the bird, letting it sit in his mouth for a moment just to enjoy the taste.

“Someone from your past I gather, Sir Marcus? Who is he and what grudge does he have with you?"

Marcus gave Ashlin a hard look for a moment. Surely she must have heard every word exchanged between the two men, with her being the closest spectator in the room. But then, he thought on it a little further, and relaxed. She had shown herself to be astute before, as well as polite.

"Yes, Sir Derek was a brother knight of mine before I was released from my vassalage. I do not share the honour of a noble sir as he does, though his mother and mine were more or less at the same level in the eyes of those like himself. He hates the fact that I more or less had been given my spurs, while being a 'peasant', where he had to win his spurs the hard way. Plus, I was allowed more leeway in learning, since I didn't have the same advantages of the other squires." Marcus tore off a leg, quickly downing a mouthful of meat before continuing. "What rankles him deepest is that he has never been able to best me, not even on the field of honour. Plus, it hurts him deeply to be reminded of his birth, and what it has cost him in the long run. When he calls me a peasant, which is correct, I return the favour and remind him, and all within earshot, that he is a bastard."

Marcus quickly finished off the leg, dropping the bone back on the plate with the bird. He carved off some breast meat, and skewered a piece of vegetable to eat. As he chewed, he suddenly felt tired. One simple act, made without thought, put him where he was right then. The number of times he brawled with other squires, often times against moire than just one, because of his patronage and his parentage, were more than he cared to remember. The number of times he pleaded with his Lord not to chastise them while he laid in the infirmary, watching his Lord's rage almost burst from his skin. Of how he learned what true honour was, and how the others saw it, used it and abused it.

He washed down his food with a mouthful of ale, sighing. "He's not going to do anything, unless he is perfectly certain he can not be dishonoured or worse. He wants to push me into making the first move, so he can state that he was merely defending himself. As much as I would love to be released of this burden, I know it will not happen. It would mean far less suffering for me in the long run. The gods don't want to get bored now, do they?"

As he liked the mug, his eyes caught Ashlin, reminding himself that he was not alone as he normally was. He looked mildly embarrassed at his little speech to himself. "Sorry, so used to my own company at times I think aloud."

He cut some more meat off the bird, eating it quietly and following it with a piece of loaf. The thoughts returned and wallowed in his mind during the quiet.
 
There was the smell of roasted meat, still sizzling on its deep tray and the smell of freshly baked bread, heading their way, that made her stomach growl. One hand flew to the offending body part and pressed upon it. Luckily, their meal had arrived, making Ashlin’s mouth water. She tore off a piece from the bread and tore another piece from that to press between her lips and as she chewed thoughtfully, her mind rolled over his words. For every action, rude or not, there was a reason. There had to be more to Sir Derek’s ire and loathing than just the simple fact that Sir Marcus had been displaced. She never quite understood the ways of men. How they thought and why. It seemed all rather silly to her most times.

Reaching for some of the roasted bird sitting in its own juices, she peeled a bit of the crisp skin off and let her mouth enjoy that taste before she again reached out to tear away a piece of meat. The meat was set on her piece of bread as her fingers plucked a small strand to eat. Ash’s head tilted slightly to one side as she regarded him thoughtfully while she chewed her food. As soon as she swallowed, she spoke.

“So, it would seem to me that Sir Derek is a bit jealous of you then. For you have things that either came his way with hardship or you possess what he wishes he had. Seems all a bit sad really.”

Ash tore off another piece of bread and like she had seen Sir Marcus do, she dipped it in the cooked juices before eating it. This was heavenly. The bread was soft, hearty and still hot. The bird, while cooked simply, had been cooked with herbs. Simple herbs as they may be, it gave the bird more flavor. Either that or she was simply far more hungry than she thought and at that point, anything would have tasted good. She glanced over at Sir Marcus again.

“Are not all you knights like that? You will push and cajole another into striking first if you wished to strike the other but have no clear reason or justification to do so?”

Using her eating dagger, Ash coaxed a browned roasted potato on the tip and raised it carefully to her lips, blowing a little on it first before she introduced it to her mouth. Once more she chewed thoughtfully and swallowed.

“Do all your former brother in arms think like that? Like Sir Derek? Do they simply forget they have fought at your side or at your back? That you have all saved each other lives at one time or another? Simply because their new lord released you? Have they forgotten all the camaraderie you have shared? The trust even? Is it really so fleeting as all that?”

Ash shook her head slightly. Once again, she knew that she would never, ever, understand men.
 
Ashlin was like him it seemed, lost in thoughts and needing to fill her belly. He found himself liking her company already, only having traveled with her for less than a day. He was thinking of where he could try getting her a horse, for a number of practical reasons. He was so deep in his own thoughts that he forgot she was there for a moment.

“So, it would seem to me that Sir Derek is a bit jealous of you then. For you have things that either came his way with hardship or you possess what he wishes he had. Seems all a bit sad really.”

Marcus looked at Ashlin with shock, and a small amount of respect.

"How did a lady of such youth gain so great a wisdom in such a short period of time? Yes, he is jealous of the attention I got from our previous Lord, and for the knowledge that I was better at most things than he was. I was not the greatest of the knights, but I was better than most."

He watched how she ate, and acted, when in the company of others. If she wanted to be a lady of station, then she would need to act differently to how she was just then. he would save it for when she was dressed in a way more befitting a lady, rather than a young man who lived with brigands.

“Are not all you knights like that? You will push and cajole another into striking first if you wished to strike the other but have no clear reason or justification to do so?”

Marcus laughed softly. "Yes, some are like that, but they are not the ones that people look to as Knights. I will admit to doing just that from time to time, but mostly, we hold ourselves until we are attacked, or our Lord or Commander tells us to attack." He shrugged. "At times, I don't care for the Knightly ways, and just do what I feel, unless it's on a field of honour."

“Do all your former brother in arms think like that? Like Sir Derek? Do they simply forget they have fought at your side or at your back? That you have all saved each other lives at one time or another? Simply because their new lord released you? Have they forgotten all the camaraderie you have shared? The trust even? Is it really so fleeting as all that?”

"On matters such as these, I doubt Sir Derek's word heavily. I was good friends with more than a few of my brother knights. They may have changed their feelings for me, I know not. Plus, I don't care that greatly either. I still hold those who were friends as such in my heart, and if they behave differently when our paths cross again, then I will change my feelings then.

"As much as Derek loathes me, when we were brother knights, I had complete trust in him on the field of battle. He would rejoice if I fell, but he would do nothing to to threaten my life. He was wise enough not to chance fate during a battle. Any other time? That was a different matter."

He gave Ashlin a long hard look. "And what of your brothers? How do you think they will feel if they ever see you again? Will they still hold feelings for you as they did while you were with them? What would you do if they met you on the road, on the 'other side' as it were?"

The meal between them was being slowly reduced as they talked. Marcus liked having some companionship as it eased those times like eating. What he came to realize while eating was that he had a goal to work towards. he wasn't just wandering the land trying to find a way to keep himself alive. He was going to bring a new Lady into the world, and guide her until she found her own feet. A positive task that had been laid upon himself for a change. The thought brought a smile to his face that eased some of the years from it.

Having taken his fill of dinner, Marcus took some time to gaze about the room. None of those present were of station, nor prominence. Just merchants, common folk who were traveling or making use of the inn. Only Derek was a notable person, and he was so for the wrong reasons as far as Marcus was concerned.

"When you're ready, Ashlin, there is a room for us. Third on the left upstairs. Why don't you go up, and ready yourself for bed. I'll wait down here for a few minutes, and let you have the time to make any changes you need without risking your modesty."
 
"And what of your brothers? How do you think they will feel if they ever see you again? Will they still hold feelings for you as they did while you were with them? What would you do if they met you on the road, on the 'other side' as it were?"

Ash thought on his questions.

“Tucker would. The others too, I think. Perhaps a little grudgingly.”

She took her time speaking. It was an effort at times to put the more cultured words into her sentences and to use them properly. At first, it had been a struggle and her brothers had laughed at her efforts. She could remember a time when Tuck threatened to cuff them all if they did not stop laughing at her. Tuck may not have understood why she wanted to change herself, but he never looked upon her badly for it.

“I do not think I could think badly of them at all. They are my brothers. They raised me when they did not have to. They could have sold me to some farmer.”

Ash speared another roasted potato from the plate and bite a bite off, chewing thoughtfully. The potatoes were lying next to the roasted meat and had soaked up their juices. When she had finished the succulent little morsel, she put her eating dagger on the table and pushed the plate away with a small sigh. She was full to the bursting. Ash glanced over at Sir Marcus and noticed he had lapsed into deep thought. With her belly now full, the warmth of the inn, her eyes started to feel heavy. It had been a long day’s ride and that ride was now wanting to take its toll. As her eyes started to droop close, she heard Sir Marcus speak.

"When you're ready, Ashlin, there is a room for us. Third on the left upstairs. Why don't you go up, and ready yourself for bed. I'll wait down here for a few minutes, and let you have the time to make any changes you need without risking your modesty."

They were blessed words. Ash yawned and stood up, snagging up her dagger in the process. Picking up her bag, she started across the room and up the stairs. She counted the doors until she got to the third one on the left and opened the door as it closed behind her, something dawned on her like a needle poking into her side.

A room for us. A room, he had said. That meant…. she was going to have to share the room with him. Her eyes went to the bed. That too?, she wondered silently.


Hurriedly she went through her bag and drew out her nightgown. Tucker had bought it for her from a washer woman one year some time ago. It had long sleeves and a tall neckline and Ash hated it. She wore it, but she hated it and vowed that once she could, she’d burn it and never wear anything like it again. A quick rinse of her mouth, a brush stroked through her hair and she tumbled into bed, pulling the blankets up to her chin. She laid there, stiff as a board, her eyes blinking as they watched the door, waiting for Sir Marcus to appear. Surely he did not mean to sleep in the same bed with her, did he? That was the last thought she had as her tired body surrendered itself into sleep, her eyes closing, her hands relaxing their death grip on the blankets. Her hair spilled around her on the flimsy pillow the inn provided.
 
Marcus watched as Ashlin stood up, grabbed her bag and went upstairs. Mostly, he was watching out for his companion, but there was a small touch of masculine interest in her. The thought was quickly dismissed, as she was not someone he was wanting to share any intimacy with. She was going to learn how to be a Lady, not to be a tavern wench who serviced the needs of the drinkers.

He turned back to his ale, catching the look from some of the others who shared the table. They took note of Ashlin as well, more clearly seeing her as a bed partner. He caught a look of jealousy from one of the men, along with the tell tale signs on his face of thinking of challenging Marcus for the right to have the young woman. Luckily for all concerned, the man was not gone far enough with drink to attempt to carry through with the challenge.

Marcus let his thoughts wander as he finished his drink. Ashlin was a comely woman, even dressed as she was. He was certain when dressed more appropriately, she would indeed be a woman of great beauty and presence. He ached for the company of a woman in the way a man normally would, but the thought of doing that with Ashlin was not there. She had all the qualities he liked in a woman, but due to his task, he put her out of his consideration.

He smiled for a moment at how Ashlin might react to that if she knew. He could see her being slightly offended that she was not worthy of his attentions, while being honoured that he respected her as greatly as he did. There was something about the young bandit lass that was more than what she was. He wondered what her real lineage was. Was she someone of more noble birth, her blood calling out to her to return to her place in the world? Was she of more regular origins, blessed with a courage to chase her dreams? Perhaps she was more like him, where there was more scope to rise than to fall further?

Marcus snorted, draining the tankard. He gathered his gear and made his way up to the room he and Ashlin were given to sleep in. Spending the night in the same room as her was not something he found comforting, but at least there would be two beds for them to sleep in. He opened the door, closing it behind him before he noticed the main problem. There was one bed!

Marcus saw that Ashlin was indeed the person in the bed, and he went out into the hallway and counted the doors. The room was the third on the left. Marcus was tired, and still irritated by Derek. He walked down to the bar, and sought out the innkeeper.

"What is the problem, Sir Knight?" The innkeeper felt more comforted by the knowledge that the bar stood between the two men.

Marcus leaned down on the counter, his entire body tensed in readiness to attack. "You told me the room I rented had two beds in it, but there is but one."

The innkeeper's eyes went wide, his mouth tried to work, but nothing came out. He looked about for someone or something, easing a little when a middle aged woman walked out from one of the store rooms. "Jaslen, you told me that the third room on the left had two beds. but the knight here tells me there is only one."

The woman stopped, curtseying to the knight before responding to her husband. "On the left? I thought you had asked for the one on the right."

"Gods! I'm sorry, Sir Knight. But I have no other rooms available, and I should have checked before I -"

"Don't worry further, my good man," Marcus said with a sigh. He still felt the urge to hit someone or something, but there wasn't anything about deserving of such a fate. His fists clenched and unclenched as he brought himself under further control. "I will make do with what I have."

He walked back upstairs, debating going down and asking where Derek was sleeping so he could do something about his anger. But he remembered he was in a public place, and he wanted to keep his tattered reputation intact a little longer. He let his thoughts ease his anger, picturing what he would do to the Knight to ease the fire within him.

Marcus paused at the door, taking one last soothing breath before entering. He found himself to be rather nervous about sharing the room with Ashlin. He looked at the bed, sighing silently at missing the comfort it promised him. Taking care not to make any noise, he took off his armour and the padded clothing underneath, leaving him in the barest of clothing. He took out his bedroll, and settled himself in for his sleep. His final thoughts before sleep claimed him was how pretty Ashlin looked sleeping in the bed, warm and comfortable for what may have been the first time in many years.
 
Ash didn’t even hear Sir Marcus enter the room. The day had taken its toll on her and she was deep into sleep by the time he came to bed. Ash didn’t stir until sunlight filtered through the window and tickled her face. Without opening her eyes, she stretched and snuggled down into the bed. Now, this inn was not the finest of quality so it stood to reason the bed wasn’t either but to Ash, who had never slept in a bed her whole life, it was made from the finest goose feathers. She lay, on her back, with the covers pulled up to her chin. A soft noise made her eyes open.

What was that?

She held her breath, listening intently. A few seconds later, she heard it again. Frowning, she opened her eyes and listened again. It was coming from the side of the bed. Somewhere on the floor she predicted. Rolling over, she peered over the edge of the bed to find a sleep Sir Marcus. His mouth was slightly open and he was snoring. He did it again and made Ash giggle madly. Her eyes found a small feather from the pillow, she guessed. An impish idea entered her head. Holding the feather between forefinger and thumb, she wiggled back toward the edge of the bed and leaned over, holding the feather just above his slightly opened lips. She was madly amused as the feather swayed upward whenever he snored. Ash moved it to lightly tickle the tip of his nose, muffling her giggles on her arm. She quickly removed the offending feather before it could wake him, watching and waiting for the opportunity to do it again.

It was the second day of her new life and here she was, tormenting her benefactor. Hopefully, Sir Marcus had a sense of humor because if he didn’t, they might as well turn around and head back to her brothers. Laughter was a necessity in Ashlin’s life. She’d rather laugh than cry and she had found herself with quite a lot to cry about in her life but by the same token, she had found a lot to laugh about as well. She wouldn’t allow herself to cry. Tears solved nothing. Laughter, at least, made a person feel good.

The feather descended again to tickle the end of Sir Marcus’ nose.
 
Sleep claimed Marcus quickly, the thoughts of Ashlin dragged from his awaken mind into the realms of his dreams...

He stood resplendent in court clothing. Base sable with silver and steel threads highlighting his build just enough for those who took the time to look at him to notice. he was clean, his hair combed and beard neatly trimmed. Many of the court ladies looked on him, wishing that they were on his arm than their current partner.

He smiles warmly, knowing that his partner would be joining him shortly. The young woman who embarked on a long journey with him. He waited to see how she would look after all her education, and the efforts by the maids in readying her for her first time in Court.

The soft whisper of fabric announces that Ashlin is approaching. he can hear the pacing of her step as she closes. He closed his eyes, waiting for her to stand at his side. Only then, does he open his eyes. Ashlin is a vision of beauty, one that radiates from deep within her soul. The dress, the fabric, the jewels and all the other work have combined to make her one who will stand out in the crowd. Marcus smiles with affection as he present his arm to her.

Together they enter the ballroom. Hushed whispers fill the room as they enter. Marcus ignored them as he is focused on Ashlin. Through the night, both are approached by others to share a dance, but both refuse all the invitations. The night is the best time Marcus ever had, and nothing would ever change that for him.

The Court function is over, and he escorts her back to the rooms set aside for her. Marcus feels a sadness that surprises him. That he would be parted from her, even for the night, hits his heart hard. He turns to face Ashlin, taken once more by her beauty. He nods his farewell, but pauses as she makes a small motion with her hand. One delicate finger approaches his face, touching the tip of his nose. The finger moved slowly, rubbing the tip ever so lightly. The feeling was irritating and continued as the dream faded...

Marcus woke with a start, his hand lunging for the source of the disturbance. His hand closed around something warm and flesh like. His eyes were adjusting as he pulled on the limb he now recognized as in his grip. The body attached to the arm fell out of the bed on top of him, knocking some of the air from his lungs. His other arm moved quickly to secure the threat as he readied himself to roll atop of them, and deal with them.

Marcus blinked several times, finally seeing the feather in her hand.

"Ashlin? What... what were you doing?" The tension flowed from his body, only to be replaced by another tension. Like Ashlin, he was dressed for sleep, and had little between himself and her. He was acutely aware of her body against his. He hadn't been with a woman for a long time, his body reacting to her presence automatically. Marcus couldn't help but go red as he was aware of what was happening.

"If you plan on any such things again, please do them when we are not camped. If I had my dagger with me, you might be dead right now." Marcus moved himself slightly, taking his lower body away from Ashlin enough to hide his unwanted reaction.

'Control yourself, Sir Marcus. She is not a scullery maid that you can tumble to fill your needs. She is one that you have sworn to tutor to be a lady. So, treat her like one, and respect her like one.'

"I am sorry for how I responded, Ashlin. I am not used to having such a jovial companion with me. Once we have eaten, I will see if we can get a horse for you, otherwise that will take place at the next place we stop. Also, we will need to think about what we shall do next as part of your training to be a Lady."

Marcus slowly sat himself up, exposing his upper body to Ashlin. Broad shoulders and a well developed scarred chest tapered down to a thinner waist hiding under the covers of his bed roll. Dark hair covered his front, except for where the various scars crossed his body. Like his body, his arms were well developed, made of solid muscle and again, sporting scars of his time as a knight.

"I shall avert my eyes while you get yourself dressed. Once that is done, I will dress and we shall go and break our fast."

Marcus turned himself around, facing away from the bed. He brought on hand up to cover his eyes. As he did, he exposed a different set of scars to Ashlin. These were more plentiful than those on his front, and of a different nature too. The scars on his front were small, sometimes jagged. Those newly shown scars were long, some broad, but all neat lines that were all over his back.
 
Marcus woke with a start, his hand lunging for the source of the disturbance. His hand closed around something warm and flesh like. His eyes were adjusting as he pulled on the limb he now recognized as in his grip. The body attached to the arm fell out of the bed on top of him, knocking some of the air from his lungs. His other arm moved quickly to secure the threat as he readied himself to roll atop of them, and deal with them.

A startled yelp left her lips even as she found herself off balance, falling from the bed to land on top of him.

"Ashlin? What... what were you doing?"

Ash lifted the top portion of her body so she could see his face.

“I—uh---was---um---just----“

Sir Marcus turned a beet red about the same time Ashlin became acutely aware of his body below her own. She felt the flush creep up her throat and into her own face. Her eyes diverted from his own. She had just meant it to be a little bit of fun. Ash hadn’t even thought that he wouldn’t find it funny himself. She hadn’t even anticipating him jerking her off the bed either.

More than that, she was acutely aware of a certain body part of his growing against her belly. She wasn’t ignorant of men, she just hadn’t expected it. Maybe it was just a normal reaction men got when they woke up. Surely it had nothing to do with her. Her nightgown had ridden up on her thighs, exposing a great deal of them. Ash scrambled off his body and got to her feet, her eyes still avoiding his.

"I am sorry for how I responded, Ashlin. I am not used to having such a jovial companion with me. Once we have eaten, I will see if we can get a horse for you, otherwise that will take place at the next place we stop. Also, we will need to think about what we shall do next as part of your training to be a Lady. I shall avert my eyes while you get yourself dressed. Once that is done, I will dress and we shall go and break our fast."

She simply opted for nodding her head as she rounded the end of the bed to fetch her bag, setting it on the bed and began rummaging around for a change of clothing. She sensed, more than actually saw him sit up, his back to her. A hand flew to cover her mouth as her eyes widened. His back. Who or what had done that to him? It was awful. They were scars so they were old. Her eyes roamed over his back as they softened with something akin to compassion.

His words sank in hastily making her scramble to undress and redress in a pair of worn leather pants, a tunic and a vest. Her fingers were combing through her hair when she announced she was dressed.

“I’m dressed, Sir Marcus.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, her back to him, Ash started to draw on her boots. Whatever possessed her to tease him like that? Maybe he didn’t have a sense of humor. Maybe he didn’t understand her sense of impish, impulsive sense of humor. She’d have to learn to curtail that. Apparently, it was not something ladies did. She stuffed her nightgown into her bag and started to rebraid her hair. She needed to learn to be….. what was that word? Refined. That was it. Time to leave her childish ways behind. She spoke without turning around.

“How did you get those scars on your back, Sir Marcus?”
 
Marcus heard her rummaging through her pack looking for clothing. He found it easy to keep his eyes averted from seeing the young woman in any way that was lacking propriety. She was his charge. He was mentoring her in how to become a Lady of Court. It wouldn't take too much to achieve, in his mind. She was pretty enough. Her natural grace would work well for when there were balls to attend. The main matter that needed attending to was her wardrobe. That would require coin, which was hard for him to come by.

“I’m dressed, Sir Marcus.”

He turned his head, noting that Ashlin had her back to him while she finished up after herself. marcus eased himself to his feet, going over to his possessions and sorting out his clothing prior to getting dressed himself.

He was far from pleased with himself for the manner in which he reacted to her levity. Being a knight was a constant struggle to maintain diligent in the face of enemies that could be anywhere. It robbed him of the chance to enjoy humour like Ashlin. But it was a small price to pay for what he had gained.

'Or is it a small price?'

"Ashlin, I'm sor -"

“How did you get those scars on your back, Sir Marcus?”

Her question brought him up cold. He had forgotten about them. He never saw them, he hardly even felt them anymore. But her simple question brought back the lingering echoes of the pain and fear of when he got them.

"I was a boy of ten, and my parents were going hungry after taxes were paid. I went to one of the Lord's orchards. There was plenty of fallen fruit on the ground that none would eat. I found a few fresh fall that still looked ripe. But some of his Lord's retainers caught me. I explained what I had done, even offered to show where I found them.

"They lashed me five times for each of the apples I stole. Fifteen strokes. They took me back to my parents, my back raw and bloodied. They even left the apples I found. Two weeks I was unable to do anything for my family. Once I was better, I made my choice of how I would live. My parents never went without food again, but I was never caught again. My lesson was learned."

Marcus started to dress, more sedately than he normally would. His mind brought forth the memories of the first time he put on clothes after the whipping. He felt, once more, every spasm of pain from his back.

"It also taught me that no one can break me. No one will change me or force me to be what I am not. I have a strength that no one will take from me. Which is why I have never failed anything that I set my mind to."

He completed his dressing quickly, and without further fuss. He once more wore his breastplate, plus all the garments that made up his knightly uniform. His sword was once more on his belt, but his shield was still resting against the wall of the room.

He turned to look at his companion as she finished braiding her hair. She was dressed in woodman's clothing, but he started to see her as the Lady she would one day be. He straightened himself, his shoulders settling back and his head held high. He would take care of his charge with the same dedication he had to all his other duties serving his departed Lord.

His voice was clear, firm and neatly spoken. There was a subtle rhythm to it that was different to his normal manner of speech.

"Come, my Lady, it is time for us to break our fast. I will escort you downstairs, and see to our dinner. When you're ready, My Lady."
 
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She stared at his back until he started to dress, covering his back, then her eyes shifted away as she sat on the edge of the bed, listening to his tale. She was shocked and appalled by how he had been treated. The punishment seemed quite harsh to her especially since he had chosen to pick up the windfalls, fruit that no one cared about anyway but would have fed a starving family. He hadn’t let them destroy him, despite the pain and agony of his punishment. Instead, he just learned not to get caught. Maybe that wasn’t the cultured man’s idea of noble, but until they walked in Sir Marcus’ shoes or even her own, they could never understand. The privileged never did. If anything, her estimation of Sir Marcus grew. He knew. He had risen up to knighthood, embraced it but he knew what it was like from her eyes. He might not have agreed with how they had thieved, but he understood survival.

"Come, my Lady, it is time for us to break our fast. I will escort you downstairs, and see to our dinner. When you're ready, My Lady."

At first, she didn’t realize he was talking about her. My Lady. Ashlin wasn’t use to being addressed so. When it finally sunk in, she rose, slipping her arm through his and giving it a small squeeze.

“Sir Marcus?” She leaned close to whisper, “I think you were remarkably brave and those scars are old and were painful at one time, if anyone should be ashamed of themselves, it should have been those who whipped you.”

They walked down the stairs together, Ashlin lost in her own thoughts. Sir Marcus was rapidly becoming a stranger no more. In fact, her cheeks reddened a bit at the thought, as she had lain across him this morning, when he had yanked her off the bed, she had felt his body’s reaction to her. She had lived around men all her life so their bodies were hardly a strange thing to her. Even though her brothers tried to shield her, living as closely as they had, Ash couldn’t help learning a few things about men. What she wasn’t clear on was if it had all been part of a morning thing for males or if he had been…. no…. he couldn’t have been…. attracted to her, could he? She snuck a sideways look at him and just as quickly glanced away again, chastising herself for a fanciful imagination.

When they got to the bottom of the stairs, she looked about the gathering room and her eyes spied the knight Sir Marcus had had word with the night before. Sir Derek. That was his name. Unfortunately, the knight had also spotted them and was heading in their direction. She gave Sir Marcus’ arm a squeeze and then stepped away from him with a soft…

“I’ll go secure us a seat to break our fast from.”

If she removed herself, Marcus wouldn’t have to worry about her. Sir Marcus, she quietly corrected herself and found a bench close to the fireplace. It was a good seat in more ways than one. From here, they could warm themselves and for the moment, she had a good eye to watch the two knights. No sooner had she seated herself and a serving wench approached. Ash pointed at Sir Marcus and requested drink, bread, cheese and some fruit. If her traveling companion wanted something more substantial, he could order it. Ash didn’t think her stomach could hold down a heartier fare. With her elbows propped up on the wooden table, her fingers entwined before her lips, her eyes watched the two knights.
 
Marcus turned to see Ashlin braiding her hair. He decided it was time to commence her education. The first step was to start treating her like a Lady. It was an easy enough thing to do, as she was his ward even if self appointed. He would have to see to getting her some more fitting garments, ones that proclaimed her for the woman she was.

He wasn't sure what was the cause of her delay to his announcing they were going for the first meal of the day. Marcus didn't concern himself over it too greatly over it. A woman's mind was unfathomable to a mere mortal man.

Then Ashlin rose with a grace that would be the envy on many a Court Lady, coming over to him and slipping her arm through his.

“Sir Marcus? I think you were remarkably brave and those scars are old and were painful at one time, if anyone should be ashamed of themselves, it should have been those who whipped you.”

Marcus felt his cheeks colour a little as he turned and bowed his head slightly at her compliment. He walked her at a decent pace, easily falling back into the role now he had placed her into the category of Lady. In his mind, it didn't matter how she was dressed, or where she was going. She was a Lady and he would treat her and respect her as such.

Upon reaching the base of the stairs, Marcus' eyes immediately fell upon Sir Derek. Marcus felt his bile rise as the man walked over to where he and Lady Ashlin stood. But Marcus felt the soft pressure on his arm and turned to look at his companion.

“I’ll go secure us a seat to break our fast from.”

Again, he nodded, keeping an eye on her as his focus shifted back to Sir Derek. The other knight, like himself, was dressed for travel; armed and armoured. He watched as Derek turned to look at Ashlin, then back again to Marcus with a smug smile.

"She is quite the pretty one, isn't she, Sir Marcus. Where did you find her? Some trapper's hut somewhere? She obviously didn't cost that much, if she's in your company."

"I agree, Sir Derek, she is pretty, and I am certain when attired more fashionably, she will be quite beautiful. As for the other matters, those are no concern of yours, so don't inquire any further."

"Don't worry, Sir Marcus. Obviously she is not that good in bed, which explains your sour demeanor this morn. Not a sound at all from your room. Pity. Maybe you both need someone else more suited to your needs. I know, you both need a good man."

Marcus' eyes went as flat as slats and his arm moved a fraction towards his sword handle. But he let his arm come to a rest. He started to step around Derek when Derek's arm blocked his passage.

"Don't fear, Marcus. I wont tell anyone of your arrangements. We can't let the news of a Knight bonded to a mere commoner now, can we?"

Derek dropped his arm, letting Marcus pass him on his way to the bar to speak to the inn keep. While he was busy, Derek made his way over to where Ashlin was sitting, coming to a stop a respectful distance from the younger woman.

"Greetings, miss. I am Sir Derek, Knight in service to the Count of Grenwald. I see that you have paired yourself with Sir Marcus, a Knight of unique standing. Normally, I would not approve of such a pairing. A Knight with a low commoner, but seeing your beauty beneath such... attire, I can see why you managed to catch the attention of Sir Marcus. But then, he is no better than you, so I think it is rather fitting that he demean himself in such a way. I am sure that the two of you will be well suited for each other.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, there is a robber band that I need to go and deal with. Good day." Derek bowed stiffly, and headed out of the inn, pausing when he was about to pass Marcus.

"Lovely lass. You two will be splendid for each other, regardless of your mutual likes." With a large grin, Derek left the inn. Marcus stood for a moment or two, collecting his calm and went to join Ashlin at the table. he had bottled up his anger and it showed in the stiffness of his posture as he sat.

"If I ever encounter that man again on open ground, I will challenge him faster than he can draw a breath."
 
"Greetings, miss. I am Sir Derek, Knight in service to the Count of Grenwald. I see that you have paired yourself with Sir Marcus, a Knight of unique standing. Normally, I would not approve of such a pairing. A Knight with a low commoner, but seeing your beauty beneath such... attire, I can see why you managed to catch the attention of Sir Marcus. But then, he is no better than you, so I think it is rather fitting that he demean himself in such a way. I am sure that the two of you will be well suited for each other.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, there is a robber band that I need to go and deal with. Good day."

She might be a simple miss, with no education to speak of, but she knew an insult if ever she heard one. Her fingers had tightened around her eating knife. She knew he was going to get away with it simply on the basis of his station, but one day, she silently vowed, her eyes following the departing knight from the inn, one day, he would rue the day he looked down his nose at her and Sir Marcus.

"If I ever encounter that man again on open ground, I will challenge him faster than he can draw a breath."

Her eyes turned to the man who was just now joining her.

“His time will come, Sir Marcus. I asked the serving girl to bring us something to drink and ordered us a simple fare this morning. So, where will we look for a horse? I can pay, but it’ll mean less for clothing or shoes. “

She had taken a seat on the bench facing the room, her back to a wall, not that she had anything to worry about. Ash didn’t have any enemies to speak of.

“YOU. GIRL!”

It was automatic for her look up, eyes searching for the source of the yell. They fell upon a middle aged man. Not a poor one, but hardly rich either. He was coming toward them, pointing a knife at her. Ash didn’t recognize him but obviously, he thought she was someone he knew. It was a thief’s nightmare. Was he someone she and her brothers had robbed before?

The man marched up to the table, secured his dagger in his belt and slammed both hands on the table that Sir Marcus and she were sitting at. He leaned over slightly in her direction. Dark eyes bore into her own, anger flared in his.

“Yes, you girl. You were with that band of thieves that robbed me on the road to Shiretown a fortnight ago. Where are they?”

Ash swallowed hard then glanced toward Sir Marcus before her eyes went back to the strangers.

“Sir, I assure you. I have no idea of what you are speaking of. I…I… was never on the road to Shiretown.”

Well, technically, that could be said. She had been in off the road in the bushes. The boys had waylaid this man more than likely. They seldom allowed her to do anything more than take the goods off of their victims.

“LIES!”

He leaned closer and she could smell the ale on his breath.

“You are a hard one to miss, girl. Skin the color of cream and unblemished. Hair the color of roasted chestnuts. Nay, you were there, girl. I stake my life on it.”

Ash glanced at Sir Marcus in desperation.
 
“His time will come, Sir Marcus. I asked the serving girl to bring us something to drink and ordered us a simple fare this morning. So, where will we look for a horse? I can pay, but it’ll mean less for clothing or shoes.”

Marcus pulled himself back from the maelstrom of thoughts concerning Sir Derek, smiling at his companion. "We well concern ourselves of the matter of horses when we reach the next village. If memory serves, it will be a day's travel from here."

Marcus wasn't entirely comfortable with his back to the room, but to side beside Ashlin would be a breach of courtesy on his part. Firstly, he was not married to her, nor was he her guardian, so be placed so close to her would infer more than what existed between them. Since he was her protector, if she had know, she could order him to place himself at her side, but otherwise, social propriety dictated that he stay opposite her.

“YOU. GIRL!”

Marcus tensed, the tone of the voice was from a long time ago, yet so familiar. He heard the equivalent more times than he cared for, until he got good enough not to catch the attention of his victims. He caught Ashlin's eyes darting around, then fix themselves on someone behind him. He took a stealthy glance over his shoulder, not seeing anyone, so turned back to watching Ashlin and taking his cues from her.

'Merchant.'

Well dressed without any expensive clothing or jewelry, well fed enough to carry some paunch, the man slammed his hands on the table as he leaned in closer to Ashlin.

“Yes, you girl. You were with that band of thieves that robbed me on the road to Shiretown a fortnight ago. Where are they?”

Marcus looked on with a slightly quizzical look.

“Sir, I assure you. I have no idea of what you are speaking of. I…I… was never on the road to Shiretown.”

“LIES!”

He leaned closer, a move that Marcus was not entirely pleased with.

“You are a hard one to miss, girl. Skin the color of cream and unblemished. Hair the color of roasted chestnuts. Nay, you were there, girl. I stake my life on it.”

"Excuse me." Marcus grabbed the arm closest to him. The merchant went to pull his arm free of the tight grip, and when he failed, turn to threaten Marcus. The words died on his lips as he took in all the signs of who Marcus was.

"These are grand accusations being made against my companion. You are accusing her of being a thief? The Lady under my charge?"

The man started to sweat. His jaw worked a little, his lips starting to form words, but constantly changing and never letting any of them out.

"I think you are grossly mistaken, my good man. In all the time I have know Lady Ashlin, she has never once taken part in any thievery."

"Then you must not have known her long! One as pretty as her is hard to forget."

"I agree that she is indeed one to remember in the mind's eye, but I do not give any credence to a man already drunk at this time of day. I strongly suggest you depart before you make any more accusations that will turn badly on you. I am not in the finest moods this day, my good man, and further bad mouthing of the Lady here will not see my temper improve."

The man snapped his head back to look at Ashlin, then Marcus. He stood himself straight, face bright red in anger. He glared hard at Marcus before turning and stalking off. The noise in the room picked up, Marcus picking out that the conversations focused on the three arguments Marcus had been involved in.

"I will be glad to be on the road again. One more person having words with either of us, and the innkeeper will throw us out, fed or not."

A serving girl brought their food over, leaving them quickly with a brief smile. Marcus laughed a little when she was far enough away not to hear it.

"See, even the serving girl wants us to go before there is trouble. From the moment you agreed to travel with me, you became Lady Ashlin." He pointed to her clothing after tearing a chunk of bread off. "Even now, with your less than ladylike clothing, you will still be accorded the proper respect of one of your aspiring station." He took a mouthful of the bread, working it swiftly and swallowing it. "But the drunkard was right about one thing. Your looks stick in a person's mind after seeing you. When you get properly attired, you will draw many eyes, for all the right reasons."

Marcus had little skill at flattery, as many a court lady discovered. But he was honest, even when it cost him in courtly position and respect. Though, he did win more than a few loyal friends through his kind words and willingness to pass his own judgments on them. It was in part the reason he was willing to embark on this journey with Ashlin. He could see the Lady within her, and he would do his best to bring her forth.

"Let us eat our fill, we have a long day before us." He cut a wedge of cheese for himself, popping it into his mouth and chewed it thoughtfully.
 
She reached for the soft round of bread. It was still warm from the ovens. As Ash tore it open, the heavenly scent of freshly baked bread filled the air and she inhaled deeply, her eyes closing momentarily as she did so. Was there any other scent quite so satisfying as bread freshly baked? Sir Marcus cut himself a wedge of cheese and Ash passed him the bread. Her own portion was set on her plate as she cut a small piece of cheese for herself. He was right about one thing, best eat quickly before something else happened and they found themselves tossed out of the inn with a rumbling stomach.

Ash glanced around the room cautiously. It seemed this morning people were looking for trouble and all she and Sir Marcus wanted to do was eat and get on their way. Running into Sir Derek she could understand. He had stayed in the inn last night as well and clearly, he did not care for Sir Marcus. She still wanted to cut out the man’s tongue with her dagger but realized the folly of that but one day, she vowed silently, one day she would be in a position to put him in his place. In her mind, that place was far lower than knighthood.

The two of them ate their morning meal in continued silence. Each of them lost in their own thoughts. As luck would have it, they weren’t bothered further and while Sir Marcus went to pay the innkeeper, Ashlin gathered her belongings and strode outdoors. Granthum was waiting for them, his feet occasionally stomping and his tail swishing to keep the flies at bay.

“Good Morning, Granthum.”

She spoke softly and approached the horse slowly. She let him sniff the hand she held out before she lifted it to rub gently between his eyes.

“Sir Marcus will be out soon and we’ll be on our way. I’m worried. What’s to become of me if I can’t do this? What if I don’t have what it takes to be a lady, Granthum? I never knew my parents, I suppose I could be a lady of station but how far-fetched would that be, hm? Do you know what gives me hope?”

She continued to rub between his eyes gently as she talked.

“The fact that Sir Marcus sees something in me. He’s been to court. He knows about ladies and lords. He knows about courtly ways and he believes that I can do this. I wish I could be as sure. I want it bad enough. I do and strangely, I don’t know why.”

The door to the inn opened behind her and she drew quiet. Without turning around she had no idea if it was Sir Marcus or not. She idly wondered what their goal was for today. She realized earlier this morning when they woke up that Marcus had started to treat her like a lady. She had done her best to fall in with it. He hadn’t found a reason to correct her yet, so she must not have done too badly of a job of it. Ashlin wasn’t fooling herself. She knew there were years of behavior and thought process to unlearn and all the more to learn. Though…. She wasn’t exactly keen on the idea of losing completely who she was now. Maybe she could combine both aspects. It would make her a quite different type of a lady at court. It was a thought she would keep to herself.

Turning slightly and glancing over her shoulder, she saw with relief that it was Sir Marcus coming toward them. Hoisting her bag over her shoulder, she shifted to stand close to Granthum’s flank and waited for Sir Marcus to join them. The long day he predicted was just starting and she sincerely hoped that their early start already would not indicate how their day would continue or it would, indeed, be a very long day.
 
The morning repast was eaten in silence. Marcus simply wanted to eat his fill and leave the inn before the the disturbances happened thrice, and the worst came to roost with it. He saw that Ashlin was similarly engrossed in her own thoughts, and couldn't blame the young woman for being in that place. Her world had changed much, and found herself in the company of a stranger chasing a life dream.

Before long, his belly was full, and he was ready to continue their journey. The Village of Histalm was their destination, and of all went well, they would arrive there as the sun dipped below the horizon. If not, there were a few places where he knew he could make camp safely.

Ashlin stood as he did, and headed out the door while he went to pay the innkeeper. He counted out the coins, adding a few extra which had the innkeeper's eyebrows raised.

"I caused trouble. I wished to compensate you for that."

"Oh, Sir Knight, twere no fault of yours."

"Please, I feel that this is needed. I insist."

The red faced man went a shade darker, nodded and took all the coins. Without saying anything else, the two men parted company. Marcus heard the voices pick up as he left the inn proper. He slowed his step as he pulled his gauntlets on, getting his hands settled within the sizable gloves. He smiled to himself as he saw Ashlin talking to his steed, comforting him a little while she waited. That his horse took so well to the young woman was something that eased his mind about the decision made.

"Hello, Granthum." Marcus' steed gave his hand a hard shove with his nose. Marcus could tell Granthum was looking forward to getting moving too. The pair had know each other long enough for them to sense each other's feelings to a degree. He gave the horse a few pats on the neck then checked the saddle and tack to make sure that it was all properly done up. Satisfied with the end result, he turned his attention to Ashlin.

"Are you ready for the next stage of your journey, my Lady?"

He got himself up into the saddle, then helped Ashlin up behind him. Once they were both settled, Granthum headed off without any command or notice. Once they reached the road, Granthum worked himself up to a canter, and put a little distance between them and the inn.

"Lady Ashlin, I want to be certain of this. Are you sure that you want to go through with this plan of ours? You still have the time to go back and rejoin your brothers if you truly desire. The further along we go, the more difficult it will be for you to return to them, and the life you know. I am not trying to turn you away, but wanting both of us to be sure that this is what you want."
 
Ash settled behind Sir Marcus, her arms around him comfortably.

"Lady Ashlin, I want to be certain of this. Are you sure that you want to go through with this plan of ours? You still have the time to go back and rejoin your brothers if you truly desire. The further along we go, the more difficult it will be for you to return to them, and the life you know. I am not trying to turn you away, but wanting both of us to be sure that this is what you want."

How many times had she asked this of herself since they had left her brothers? Too many to count. The answer was always the same. Something was driving her forward. She owed the men that raised her, a lot. She knew what this path would take from her, but she also knew there was a special place in her heart where they would always dwell and who knew? Maybe, one day, she would be in a position to do something for the men she would always think of as her brothers. They all, herself included, knew that the type of life the men had chosen for themselves could very well lead to their deaths. They didn’t want it any other way. She could and would respect that.

Ash leaned into Sir Marcus’ back, her chin coming to rest lightly on his shoulder. Her lips close to his ear.

“I’m sure, Sir Marcus. Are you?”

She settled back, her arms still around his middle loosely. Her mind started to trickle doubts. No. This is what she wanted. Beyond that, something was driving her. She couldn’t explain it. It was just something she had to do. As they cantered along, Ash watched the scenery idly. A sudden movement in the tree line that she caught from the corner of her eye, made her sit up straighter. Turning her head, she looked in that direction. All was still. Had she imagined the movement? She was about to shrug it off when she saw something running deeper amongst the trees. No. There it was again. This time she could make out a sleek body running on four legs. She started to lean toward Sir Marcus to advise when she saw more of them, running behind the first once. Something made her glance across to her other side. There, closer to the road, far more boldly ran another one, with three more behind it. Wolves. They were keeping pace with Granthum but why? Wolves weren’t known to outright attack humans. Then it dawned on Ashlin. They weren’t after Sir Marcus or herself, they wanted Granthum. This season was colder than any before. The common folk were hunting more and more of the wild life, making the animals a scarcity. Obviously, the wolves were desperate. The wolf pack outnumbered the two humans and a horse, though Granthum was far more than just an ordinary, everyday, horse.

“Sir Marcus.”

She kept her voice low and steady.

“We have company. A wolf pack.”

Even as she spoke, the group that had been keeping up with them broke from the deep woods, some ran along Granthum’s side. Others broke from the pack and ran behind them, flanking them. It was a larger pack than she had ever run across before. She held to Sir Marcus, unsure what he was going to do about their situation.
 
Marcus became aware of the change of the flow of air near his ear. He suppressed a slight shiver as the warmth of her breath touched his ear.

“I’m sure, Sir Marcus. Are you?”

He smiled, turning his head slightly, his ear brushing her lips unintentionally. Again, a shiver rode the length of his spine but he paid it little heed.

"My certainty in this matter, my Lady, equals yours."

He turned his head straight, returning to watch the woods for trouble. But his mind was conflicted by his immediate duties, and the feelings that his companion seemed to stir within him. He would never lie, not to himself over a matter of importance. Ashlin was indeed a very pretty young woman. She would greatly honour any man who sought out her company, and make him the envy of many ladies. But she was his traveling companion, not someone he was courting. She deserved better than him. She deserved a true knight at the very least, one with noble blood as well as a noble heart. He knew many men that fitted that description, and were yet to marry. Even knowing her background, he knew a few of them would still pursue such a Lady with the intent of honourable marriage.

His internal philosophizing was brought to a rapid end when he felt the change in Ashlin's seating behind him. He glanced about, moving only his eyes. He saw the low shapes ghosting through the undergrowth on either side of the trail. He could feel Granthum's acknowledgment of the wolves' presence. He chided himself over being so self absorbed, rather than focusing on what mattered there and then.

“Sir Marcus. We have company. A wolf pack.”

"Yes, I know. Thank you." His voice matched hers in volume and tone.

The wolves broke cover, some heading in to go for his steed's legs. Granthum slowed his pace, lashing out in mid stride, keeping the predators wary enough not to close. Marcus looked about, gauging the strength of the pack, and what they would try and do. Marcus reached down with one hand, grabbing both of Ashlin's wrists. With the slightest of taps with his heels, Granthum leaped into a gallop, pulling away from the startled pack. Marcus knew that Granthum would only be able to go for a shot burst, but he would gain a good lead that he would then be able to maintain at a trot, which would last long enough to show the pack they were not worthy prey.

Except the pack was familiar with horses carrying riders. A few members were further up the trail, lying in wait. They jumped out far enough ahead, growling and barking. Granthum was surprised by this move, and resorted to instinct for a moment, rearing up and pawing the air. Marcus forgot totally about Ashlin, needing both hands of the reins to control his startled mount. Granthum hopped on his hind legs twice before righting himself. He bunched himself tightly, and took off down the track, riding down one of the wolves in the process. Marcus turned and looked back, his face growing pale as he saw Ashlin lying on the ground before the track bent and took her from his sight.
 
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It happened in the wink of an eye, a quickly inhaled breath. Ashlin, found herself flat on her back, the world in her head was set spinning and the view darkened, well, more like it faded in and out as she watched the little stars before her eyes dance about. What had just happened? The feral snarling of wolves quickly brought it all back and despite the ache at the back of her head where it had met the ground or the discomfort in her back that inhaling brought her, Ash scrambled to her feet, drawing her sword. The slender blade sliced upwards into the underbelly of the closest snapping beast. There was very little time to think beyond her mind registering that Granthum was hauling tail down the road with Sir Marcus doing everything in his power to bring the horse back under control. Ash had little doubt that Sir Marcus would be back, it was simply a matter of when. In the meantime, she had to keep moving, not allowing the pack to surround her. She had to keep them at a distance, for if they managed to circle her and all move in at the same time, she was dead. Clearly. Without a doubt. For now, it seemed as if they were playing with her or maybe testing her. One would lunged forward, her blade swinging to meet the primordial challenge, then back away, still snarling. A dozen wild eyes were focused on her, a sure death was in their eyes, but in hers was the confidence that the death was not hers to meet, but theirs.

A four-legged attacker leapt from the right. Morning light found the cold steel and warmed it, as its wielder arced forged steel into the neck of the challenger, spraying warm blood on the ground. Its scent was addictive. The wolf went down with one soft whimper and lie twitching on the ground. The human was forgotten at the moment of the kill as the pack moved in on one of their own. The conquered challenger lifted its head from the ground, giving another soft whimper as the strength of the pack closed in around the creature. Ashlin would have found time to feel sorry but for the fact, it had bought her time. Precious time. She wasted nary a drop of it by sheathing her blade and scrambling up into a nearby tree, putting as much distance between herself and the wolf pack. Ash settled herself in amongst the branches and averted her eyes from the gore happening below. She understood nature. It wasn’t always the most pleasant of things, but this was something she did not wish to witness. There was little she could do to tune out the snarling, the chewing, the ripping of flesh and muscle from bone. Instead, she turned inward in contemplation.

Sir Marcus was coming back for her. Was he not? Surely he was a noble man. A man of his word. He was a knight. He would never leave his charge to defend herself, least of all, against a pack of hungry, feral wolves. Ashlin’s lips twitched into a smile. By the time he had created a lady and took her court, surely there would be another pack of wolves to contend with. She may not be the most comely young woman at court, but she would be newest and that always brought curiosity to the jaded men there.

Ashlin often asked herself, knowing full well that the men of court were a jaded lot, made so by decadence and easy avarice fulfilled, why would she want to be a part of it. It was not so much need to be part of all that. There was so much more to it. If anything, it was the idea of court itself. The hierarchy it represented. The very thing that puzzled her over and over again, that somehow, she belonged amongst them. Until she became a member of court, she couldn’t possibly hope to get that idea out of her head. This made her think of the parents she never knew. Who had they been? Surely they must have belonged at court or why would she have such a feeling of belonging there. It wasn’t just some fanciful, wishful thinking that most girls of villages may have had. It was ever so much more of a tugging. A pulling, if one would, of her toward that end. Not for the first time did Ashlin wish she had more of a clue about her parentage. Her brothers had found nothing among the corpses they had come upon, not even the dead woman found protecting Ash had any clues as to who she or they were. Tuck, uncharacteristically, had reluctantly taken what jewels the woman had been wearing, but these, he vowed, were the child’s. They would be given to her when she was grown and could understand what they were and who they had belonged to, even though none were sure if the woman had been Ash’s mother. All they could figure was that the dead woman meant something to the infant and ever moreso, the infant meant a great deal to the woman.

Angry growls tore Ash from her thoughts and while holding onto a tree branch, she looked down into the angry, snapping jaws and stormy eyes of the wolf pack. Their previous meal had been devoured, leaving only some half eaten entrails, mats of bloody fur and snapped bones, still lying on the ground. It made Ash wonder if the one she had fatally wounded had been their pack leader.
 
Marcus had come to respect the strength of will that Granthum possessed. more than once, that very will of his four legged companion had save his life. But in the moments of fear rushing through Marcus' mind over his ward, that very pigheadedness was going to be the death of her. Marcus observed his mount, reading the mind through the actions of the body. Granthum was trapped in the thinking of a horse, not as a Knight's steed. Tugging in the reins would only hurt his mouth and not get his attention. Shouting wouldn't work either given how swiftly they were moving.

Therefore, Marcus kicked Granthum in the ribs, hard. Granthum squealed, loosing his stride momentarily, but kept it enough not to fall. Granthum snorted in a way that Marcus knew meant that his horse was angry. Marcus quickly applied pressure to the reins, indicating his desire to slow down. Reluctantly, Granthum slowed until he came to a stop. But then, the horse decided that he was not going to move. No attempts to convince his horse would make it move.

"Now is not to time to behave like a mule!" He dismounted and walked to stand before his horse. Granthum bared his teeth aggressively, then tried to take a bite. Marcus slapped him with a bare hand, which Granthum barely missed on a return bite. Marcus took hold of on of the horse's ears, and stepped sideways before he was stomped. "We need to go get Lady Ashlin, which I can't do without you." The horse tried to jerk his head up and break free, only to have Marcus grip harder. "Lady Ashlin, Granthum, needs us." He twisted the ear and Granthum ducked his head. Marcus let go allowing the horse to right his head properly. Marcus gave him a friendly pat on the neck.

"The damsel is in distress, and we must save her." He remounted and Granthum turned to face the proper direction. He trotted back along the road, while Marcus readied his sword. When they got close enough for Granthum to smell the pack, they moved a little swifter until rounding the final bend, they charged.

Marcus roared an inarticulate warcry as the pair thundered through the startled pack. A wolf was crushed under Granthum's hooves as they scattered the pack. The pair went past the tree where Ashlin was perched, turning about to give them a further pass. On the second pass through the demoralized wolves, Marcus saw where Ashlin was. He chided himself over his inability to use a cool head and know from the position of the wolves that Ashlin was up in the tree.

He turned Granthum around, walking him over to the tree. Between the pair of them, any of the wolves that were brave enough, and foolish enough to approach them got good scares and painful reminders of why it was not sensible. They came to a halt as close to being underneath Ashlin as they could. Marcus turned his attention to the trapped young woman while Granthum stomped at any wolves they had second thoughts about having him for dinner.

"Quickly, Lady, come down before the wolves rediscover their courage." His free hand was extended up, and he swayed in the saddle as Granthum adjusted his position to better counter the wolves. "Quickly, please. We will be gone and safe. We wont let you come to harm again, I promise."
 
Granthum was making mincemeat out of a pair of wolves. Ash almost felt sorry for them, almost. They would have shredded her to pieces if she hadn’t shimmied up this tree. The horse snorted, whether in derision or simply of the moment, Ash wasn’t sure. Sir Marcus was sitting in the saddle, looking up at her.

"Quickly, Lady, come down before the wolves rediscover their courage."

He held up a hand. Oh lord, this was the part she hated. Descending. What if she missed the saddle altogether? What if she landed under Granthum’s hooves? Scooting her behind to the edge of her bark rough perch, Ashlin looked down.

She could do this. Sir Marcus would catch her.

"Quickly, please. We will be gone and safe. We wont let you come to harm again, I promise."


He was right, she couldn’t dither up here like some young lady with her first paramour. There was nothing for it. She was going to have to let go of her perch. They couldn’t afford to tarry for long. The wolves might just come back. With a hastily seized breath, she slipped free of the tree and felt herself falling. Sir Marcus’ hands caught her, holding firm as he guided her into the saddle in front of him. Ash gave a small grunt on contact, her arms wrapping around his middle as she held onto the knight. Her body was shaking, though that part was lessening by the minute as Marcus turned Granthum and they started to ride away.

They traveled in silence for some time. Ash’s grip around Sir Marcus loosened as they got farther away from where the encounter with the wolves had been. Her body ceased shaking as well. She had never encountered wolves up so closely before. Her brothers had always made sure to give them a wide path. The sounds of snapping jaws and fierce growls continued to echo in her head.

After a time she managed to find her voice.

“Thank you, Sir Marcus. “

Subdued as her tone was, Ashlin made sure he could hear her. She never doubted he would leave her behind, but she had worried about how long it would take him to bring Granthum under control and return for her. Ash would have spent the night in the tree if she must. What had started out as forced, now, she could relax against him as all three of them made their way down the solitary road. Eventually, however they Sir Marcus brought his horse to a brief stop at a crossroads. Ashlin looked up into his face.

“Which way are we going, Sir Marcus?”

Looking in all four directions, there wasn’t much to see except fields.
 
The moment of indecision stretched out forever while Marcus waited for Ashlin to descend from the tree. But when she eventually let go, he was ready for her when she dropped. He caught her quickly, and in a way that didn't add to her hurt or discomfort. No sooner than she had her arms wrapped around him, he let Granthum know it was time to depart. His steed lost little time in leaving the startled pack of wolves behind.

As Granthum took them away, Marcus felt his heart rate drop. For him, it was not a dangerous situation, but for Ashlin, it was far more so. It took a short period of reflection for him to determine that it was actually his concern for her that caused his overly rapid pulse. But as the cleared the trees, he knew she was safe, and he returned to his more normal state.

Granthum slowed to a walk, Marcus trusted his horse's instincts on matters such as those. The knight focused on his ward. She had been shaking, the aftermath of the event lingering for a long time. What had occurred was of more concern to her than himself, which reminded him that he was in the presence of a young woman, not a seasoned fighter as he had first appraised her. He looked at her more closely and noted the lack of features he assumed were there by the way she had been carrying herself. She was more mature than her appearance would dictate, but the recent encounter opened her up more fully to him, showing the young woman that hid within.

“Thank you, Sir Marcus.”

"It was my pleasure and duty, Lady Ashlin. I am sorry for not being better prepared against Granthum's shying at the wolves. All that matters to me is that you are safe, and unharmed."

He felt her rest against him, at ease while Granthum continued his slow walk along the road. Marcus wondered if they would indeed make it to the village before nightfall. He had concerns about how Ashlin would sleep that night if they were forced to make camp instead of sleeping in a room.

Marcus turned his mind to planning for the coming night, as well as some more longer term decisions, leaving Grantum fulling in charge of their movement. He had been so absorbed by his thoughts that he failed to notice that they were approaching a crossroad. Marcus was only aware of it due to Granthum coming to a stop.

“Which way are we going, Sir Marcus?”

"Straight ahead, my lady."

Granthum nodded violently, flicking his right ear as he did. Marcus looked to the right hand road, not seeing what had caught his horse's attention. It took a moment for the rider to come into view rounding a bend behind the tall stalks of wild sown grain. He was lightly garbed upon a light horse. The rider brought his mount to a rapid halt, and signaled for someone out of Marcus' view.

Marcus dismounted, took up his shield, and walked around to put himself between the rider and his own horse. The unknown rider was joined by another man, rider a horse similar to Granthum is stature. The man was dressed in chain mail and carried a lance with a pennant flying from the tip. Marcus took a few steps away from Granthum, each one with greater ease and comfort. The other knight rode forth cautiously, coming to a halt a few yards before Marcus and almost throwing himself off his mount.

"Marcus!"

"Navren!"

The two men closed, slapping each other's forearms with their hands, shaking them with heart felt vigour.

"What are you doing here, Navren?"

"I am fulfilling an obligation of my father's, which my Lord wasn't pleased about me doing."

"Oh? Why would that be?"

"He himself gains nothing from the deal, but would loose out if he held me back." Navren laughed. "And what of you, brother mine?"

"I am not your brother anymore, remember?"

"Tosh! Just because he refused to accept your fealty doesn't sever the bonds of our hearts. Does it?"

Marcus laughed. "Indeed not. You are one of the few there that I would still call brother. The rest... not worthy of remembering.

"But me, I am heading for Lockfell, with my ward, the Lady Ashlin."

Navren looked over Marcus' shoulder, staring right at Ashlin. His brow furrowed slightly.

"It would be unseemly of me to say, but the Lady is not exactly attired as one."

"Correct. Since there is but the two of us, and just Granthum at this point, it was prudent to have her dress in a manner that left her seeming to be other than what she is. It has helped draw less trouble to us than if she were more gracefully attired."

"Well, then, maybe I can be of assistance to you."

"How so?"

"My obligation is to escort Lady Bronwyn back to her family estate after visiting relatives. She rides in a carriage with a few guards - competent men, I'm sure - and I think she would adore some company on the road. We will share the same road as you until we reach Ashfield. We gain from having another decent sword, plus the ladies will have company. You gain from having people about at night, and having a friendly face to look at."

"If Lady Bronwyn is agreeable, then we will happily accompany you while our paths are common."

Navren clapped Marcus on the shoulder and walked back to his mount. "Wait at the crossroad, we will be there shortly."
 
Sunlight filtered through the trees. The morning air was warm and the gentle gait of the horse beneath her lured Ashlin into a light snooze.She hadn’t even realized that Granthum had come to a halt, until Sir Marcus stirred behind her. Ash’s eyes flickered open and what her eyes beheld, made her stir and sit up straighter. Her blood flowed a little more quickly through her veins as her hand found the grip of the sword at her side, tightening there as Sir Marcus dismounted. Every muscle tensed in her body, ready to spring to the knight’s aid should it be required. The stranger was surely a knight but Ashlin was worried it was another who was as baleful as Sir Derek had been. Apparently, that was not the case. Ash watched on quietly as the men embraced each other, calling the other by name and evidently both were quite happy to be in the same company.

The unknown knight glanced over Sir Marcus’ shoulder, looking directly at her. She sat up a little straighter in the saddle and met his eyes, though something in his made her look away quickly, her cheeks slightly becoming red. She felt suddenly all too unladylike and felt aware that she was hardly a lady to begin with. Silently Ash chided herself. Surely he wouldn’t be the first to think of her as….well, she couldn’t say what he thought but it wasn’t as if he saw her as a lady. Granted, she couldn’t blame him. She could hardly think of herself as a lady dressed as she was. It was hard to show ladylike mannerisms when one was dressed like a lad or because she didn’t have any. What she did know, she had learned from watching various ladies she had encountered strove to mimic over and over until it became natural to her. It wasn’t much of anything, but better than nothing. Ash strove to do the same with her speech.

The two knights finished speaking and Sir Marcus came alongside Granthum, returning his shield to its resting place.

“Sir Marcus? Who was that? You seemed to know him quite well and he seemed not at all like Sir Derek.”
 
Marcus felt at ease for the first time since he departed his previous Lord's estate. After meeting Sir Derek, his crossing paths with Sir Navren could not have been better timed. His gait when returning was one that flowed more gracefully, more in the manner of a man who fought for a living. He sheathed his sword and his shield sat at a more comfortable way on his arm as he closed on Granthum.

“Sir Marcus? Who was that? You seemed to know him quite well and he seemed not at all like Sir Derek.”

Marcus hung his shield on his saddle, then remounted Granthum and settled himself. The knight was openly smiling when he looked at Ashlin.

"That is Sir Navren, one of my old brother knights, and one of the few that I still will call a brother knight. He serves the same Lord as Sir Derek, but he is fulfilling a familial obligation, one that will serve our purpose well.

"He is escorting a young woman of station, a Lady Bronwyn. Their route will match ours for a few days, and we will most probably be able to travel with them. You, of course, Lady Ashlin, will travel with Lady Bronwyn, as is fit and proper for a young woman of station as well. Of course, you are garbed so to help better protect you while you are escorted to Lockfell. Use the time to become better acquainted with the Lady Bronwyn, as she may be of help introducing you into society. Plus, it is good to have connections with other ladies."

The carriage appeared from behind the stalks of grain, preceded by a trio of cavalrymen, with Navren riding beside the well made transport. Three more cavalrymen rode behind and behind them rode two men in loose, scruffy garb on light horses. The entourage approached at a slow pace, stopping at the crossroad proper. When Navren gave Marcus the 'All Clear' signal, the lone Knight rode closer to the carriage and the Knightly guardian.

"My Lady Bronwyn, it is my great pleasure and honour to introduce you to my brother knight, Sir Marcus, and his current ward, the Lady Ashlin."

A young looking blonde haired woman leaned forward to look out the top half of the opened door. Her dress was a blue a shade or two lighter than the sky above them, which made her eyes stand out brilliantly. Her smile showed bright teeth between delicately painted lips.

"The same Sir Marcus you have been telling me about, Sir Navren?"

Navren blushed slightly when he looked at Marcus. "Yes, my Lady, the one and the same."

"I hope I am not being rude, Sir Marcus, but I would like to hear your words on certain events as told to me by my Knight Defender."

"It would be my pleasure, Lady Bronwyn."

The woman within turned to look at Ashlin, and her expression was one of confusion followed by interest. Marcus saw her eyes take in Ashlin in one quick sweep, but he could not sense any negative reaction from the young woman.

"Lady Ashlin, Sir Navren explained the nature of your attire, which I can fully understand. But while you and Sir Marcus travel with us, I insist that you accompany me in here, rather than being seated with Sir Marcus, inhibiting his ability to protect us if there is a need. Plus, I hope you will find the seats more comfortable than the saddle, and perhaps my company better suited for a lady?"

She unlocked the door, pushing it open and shuffled back. Marcus turned to quietly speak to Ashlin.

"Please, join her. It is more seemly for you to do so. Relax, watch and practice what you know."
 
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