author Therese A. Kraemer

A Knight To Remember

One

It was a glorious England day for living thought Sir Raven De Veaux as he and his men-at-arms trotted through Talon Forest to King Fredrick’s castle. They were escorting Prince Gustave home to take his rightful place on the throne. It was a bittersweet moment for Raven because in order for his beloved prince to reign, the king had to die.

Prince Gustave, only sixteen, had been in hiding since 1521 AD, living deep in the forest with his aunt. Now that the king was ailing, not expected to live much longer, Raven had been summoned to bring the king’s only child home. He had mixed feelings since he had had a hand in rearing the child since birth. He had only been on here for seventeen years, a mere youth, but he had the wisdom of a mature man when he had taken over the responsibility of the safety of an infant. Now thirty-three years of age, besides his wisdom, he had the strength of two men.

It did not hurt to be in King Fredrick’s favor when he had slain a lion that had wandered down from a mountain. ‘Twas about to attack the pregnant queen as she and her servants were gathering herbs just outside the castle walls. His arms were badly clawed, but Raven was cared for and in his convalescing, the queen grew to love him. He was knighted for his bravery and made captain of the king’s army.  Raven and his men guarded Prince Gustave and the prince was like a younger brother to him. He had tutored the boy in numbers and letters as well as self-defense. Gustave’s aunt Vesta believed that a prince should not endanger himself in the art of fencing at an early age but Raven insisted.

“’Tis only a wooden sword, milady,” Raven would remind Vesta and laugh at her nail biting habit. “Verily, naught would happen,” he had insisted numerous times.

Aunt Vesta would poo-poo and tsk, tsk him repeatedly but kept her cursing to a minimum until the prince was given a real sword at the age of eight. Then, and only then, did the woman become hysterical and swear, raising holly hell and making Raven’s ears blister. But alas,           ’twould do no good, and she would have to watch, claiming that her heart beat wildly in her breast.

Steel against steel, the prince would try to best Raven, but he was the teacher and he proved to be unbeatable. By the time Prince Gustave was ten, he had learned many tricks to unarm any opponent Raven matched him with. Although the boy was still unable to get the better of him, this did not frustrate or deter the lad into giving up. By the time the prince turned sixteen, he was almost as good as Raven. Now the only reason ’twas necessary for the prince to be concealed all those years was because his Uncle Wulfric. The man would like nothing better than to see his nephew slaughtered so he could claim the crown for himself. That was the danger that had been plaguing Raven for all those years.

It was yestermorn when he received a message that the king was dying. He had to tell both the prince and the woman who raised the boy the news. He was not sure how either would take it. He hoped the prince would be happy to go home, and to see his sire, if only for a short time. Raven knew Vesta would not take it lightly, although she knew sooner or later that this day would come. Raising a child for sixteen years is not easy for Vesta, especially one who loves the prince as her own. He decided to tell her first. As he suspected she paled and sat clutching her bosom.

After a few cups of Meade, Vesta dried her eyes and asked, “Have ye told the prince?”

He gulped down the last of his ale and frowned. “Nay, I thought ’tis best I inform ye first. I do nae know how the lad will take leaving here. ‘Tis the only home he has ever known.” He looked into the goblet as if he was reading a message at the bottom. “I think he will be confused.”

“Aye,” replied Vesta. “’Twas nae the life for a boy, especially a prince, that he should be raised in the bowls of the forest, and away from lads his own age. Although I am sad, maybe ‘tis best he go home to his roots.” The old woman wiped away another tear.

Raven stood and kissed her wrinkled cheek. “I will send the prince to ye after I give him the news. “I can see ye are nae happy, my prince,” Raven voiced the obvious.

Gustave shrugged his small shoulders. “I do nae feel anything but uncertainty but I had feared this day for a long time, my friend. I do know that I do nae want to be king, or leave here and my aunt. What do I know about ruling over subjects?”

“Tis understandable, my prince, but ye have a duty. I will be by ye side as long as ye need my service as a tutor and friend.”

“Thank ye.”

Raven stood by as Vesta kissed the prince goodbye, her grey eyes filled water. His prince’s aunt loved the boy as her own, and had nursed him as a babe from the moment Raven placed the infant into her arms. Only two weeks had passed since her own babe had died and her breasts were heavy with milk.

“I love ye mother Vesta,” the prince had declared as they prepared to leave. “I shall miss ye terribly. I wish ye could journey with us,” he said, his own eyes wet.

Vesta sighed sadly and declared, “Now Prince Gustave ye are a young man on your way to take your rightful place on the throne. Ye will make a great king, besides; I am too old to make the trip. My health is no longer what it used to be. Ye are a man now and ye will have great responsibilities to keep ye busy.”

She loosened his grip and smiled wanly. “Ye will be in my heart and mind daily, my sweet boy. Remember I love ye as if ye were of my own flesh and blood. Raven will see that ye are escorted safely to your father’s castle. Be brave and live well.” She kissed his cheek, “God speed.” Before she lost all her composure and will power not to cling to the boy, she turned and entered her humble home.

The prince mounted his horse, wiping away tears. Raven saw Gustave’s raw emotion and looked away so as not to embarrass the young man. He said his goodbyes to Vesta earlier and sadness for the woman and child lay heavy in his heart. He remembered the loss of his own mother, but this parting could not be helped. Squaring his shoulders, Raven raised his hand and turned slightly on his war horse Samson, to speak with his ward; his steed side-stepped and snorted. The animal was much larger than the average horse. Big and mean, bred specifically for war, and Raven trusted Samson with his life, more so than any friend.

They traveled for about two hours when Raven signaled for his men to stop, noticing that the prince was shuddering. Hoping to comfort the lad, Raven said, “Prince Gustave, ye will make a grand king.” The prince looked concerned, an expression that had been plastered on his countenance for the past week, once he had learned of his going home. Home to a kingdom he had never seen and a father he had never met.

He smiled wryly. “Raven, think you? I am nae too sure of this myself.”

 Raven touched the boy’s sleeve. “Remember, I will always be by your side. Ye are a smart lad; ye will mature and lead your people as it should be. Your subjects will love ye as they do your father. I am sorry that ye never got to know your sire but as ye know, your uncle tried to kill ye when ye were in the cradle and your mother gave her life to protect ye.”

Prince Gustave sighed. “Why had father not thrown his brother into the dungeon?”

Raven shook his head negatively. “We had no real proof, only suspicions. After your mother was found with her body over yours and a knife in her back, your uncle fled. But if ye should come to any harm, he will surely return to claim the throne. He had a son two years your senior and they are the only other relatives and heirs to the kingdom. ‘Tis rumored that your cousin is as bad as his father. At eighteen, ‘tis said that he raped and murdered a young maiden of thirteen.”

Prince Gustave’s shoulders slouched and he murmured, “Wouldst that I was a mere commoner. I liked living in the forest with Vesta and ye. I am frightened that I shant be a good king.” 

Raven did not know what else to say to comfort the boy. He saw the prince’s eyes had a faraway look in them and his expression was tight with strain. “Ye will be fine, I promise,” he said, reassuring the prince as he had many times these past few weeks. No sooner had the words fell from his lips than one of his guards yelled out in pain and the soldier’s eyes were wide with confusion before he slumped over his horse. He fell to the ground with an arrow protruding from his back. Raven pulled out his sword and yelled for his men to surround the prince.

It was as if a third party had entered the fray, a stiff wind ushered in a chill, and dark clouds formed. The beautiful day turned menacing in more ways than one. As the army of soldiers swarmed like locusts, lightning flashed all around and a fury of swords clashed along with thunder. Steel against steel, Raven and his men fought in the downpour until he was the only one left. The stench of blood and horse manure filled his nostrils and terror filled his heart for the prince. He blinked, trying to find Gustave, his heart pounding. Out of the corner of his eyes he spied the prince struggling with a large soldier. His heart shrank in anguish as he kicked his mount to charge, unaware of the enemy behind him. When his helmet was knocked off he felt a blinding pain in his head. Moaning in agony, he clutched his sword and hung fast to his saddle as his world tilted.

Between the ear-splitting thunderclaps there came a cry from the prince, “Raven!” His vision blurred, Raven rubbed the rain from his eyes only to see the prince being led away. As long as he lived, if he did, he would never forget the terror on the boy’s face, and he would never forgive himself for failing. I will be by ye side, mocked him as he tried to remain in the saddle.

Lightning streaked across the sky and rain pelted down like stones blinding him momentarily. Never had he witnessed Mother Nature in such a rage. His war horse whinnied, side-stepped and turned in circles panicking. Steadying himself atop his mount, Raven knew he had to follow. A stabbing pain in his temple was excruciating and his head pained as if he had drunk a keg of mead, but he charged forward, no longer hearing the prince’s cries.

How had this happened? Who knew that he was bringing the prince to his father? There had to be a traitor in his regiment. But who? Every man lay dead in the muddy ground, blood flowed through the cracks in the mud like spider veins. He raised his fist towards the heavens, cursing the gods! He had failed to keep his promise; he was a disappointment to himself, the king and his ward. Raven had to try to catch up to the attackers no matter what. Racing along the forest trail with lightning flashing all around, Samson jumped over a fallen tree. His body seemed to be lifted from his horse. He thought himself delirious because he could swear he was floating upwards, as if he were being transported to another dimension. Then his body slammed against something and Raven fell back to earth. He never felt himself hit the ground.