Knight Triumphant by Heather Graham

to him. He had used the law to keep his men from fighting in foreign wars, convinced the king that the knights and tenants of Langley were needed there, to hold the precarious position of the castle. And whatever call to arms came to him, he delved first into his books, always finding a point of law that Edward himself had brought to the English people, and using that point to maintain his policy of neutrality and separateness. Tall, slender and artistic, Afton had never had the burly build or stamina required of a true warrior; his strength had always lain in the power of his mind.
    She could almost feel him beside her, as if he came in dreams. “Returning to England is the wisest course of action, my love. Your brother is young and will force nothing on you. Take time to heal, choose the life you’ll lead. It will all come out well in the end . . .”
    It was as if he were really there, the softness of his breath against her cheek, his fingers in her hair. She could feel his presence, his tenderness, yet she knew that it wasn’t real, and she felt the pain of his loss rising in her again, touching within; she felt the burn of tears against her eyelids. And the sense that she was not alone.
    She woke suddenly, not feeling the tenderness, but a rise of awareness and panic. A whisper broke the darkness.
    â€œSh . . . sh! Please, my lady, don’t cry out!”
    She gritted her teeth, trying to control a scream of terror. Waking in the darkness was different from its sudden fall; the moon glow still entered the room and she could see the young girl, and Gregory, the deaf boy, at her side.
    The girl with the scar across the length of her young face.
    â€œWhat is it?” she asked.
    â€œI had to come, I’m so sorry I frightened you.”
    â€œIt’s all right; I’m all right,” she said quickly.
    She sat up, looking at the two in the shadows. “It’s all right, really. But why have you come?”
    â€œTo warn you,” the girl said.
    â€œWarn me? Is there . . . has someone ridden here?”
    The girl shook her head. She hesitated. “Gregory . . . he can’t speak, but he can see .”
    â€œHe can . . . see?” Igrainia repeated.
    The girl nodded. “There’s a danger ahead for you. It will come out as it should, but you must be very careful. You must watch everyone around you. Always. There’s a haze. . . and a chance that you could lose your life. But if you are wary, and watch, always watch. He sees riders, and if you’re not aware . . . they could . . . hurt you. He can’t tell you when or where you will meet with them, only that your journey is dangerous.”
    Igrainia looked past the girl to Gregory. He nodded somberly.
    â€œYou can speak with him?”
    â€œHe isn’t in the least stupid, my lady. He is only deaf and mute.”
    Igrainia smiled. “And he . . . sees?”
    â€œHe has a certain vision.”
    She wondered about his “vision.” She knew she was in danger when she rode; her very existence created danger. But she felt an uneasy prickling along her spine, as if she were hearing a warning as real as any she might find from a messenger sent ahead to tell of armed men riding down upon the gates of a castle.
    â€œWhy should a pilgrim be in danger?” she asked cautiously.
    â€œWhy would a pilgrim give a poor lass such a rich coin?” the girl asked her.
    â€œThe poor lass needs the coin more than the pilgrim,” Igrainia said.
    â€œAye, indeed, I’d not survive at all if it were not for Father Padraic and the bounty of the folk coming through. But few have the ability, or the kindness, to give with such generosity.”
    â€œThere are many things that gold coins cannot buy,” Igrainia murmured. “As to Gregory’s vision, what would he have me do? I cannot stay here; I have to ride, and reach London.”
    â€œIt’s true, you can’t stay. But you must be