Lady Knight by L J Baker Read Free Book Online

scandal
surrounding her. That a daughter of the late Earl Marshal should take to
dressing as a man would be cause enough for gossip. If Eleanor was not mistaken,
though, that elaborately decorated dagger Riannon wore at her right hip was a
symbol of membership of a chivalric order. Riannon used a second, plain knife,
for eating. Eleanor’s eyes narrowed as she relived the scene in the garden. Yes,
Riannon had worn a sword. Could she be a lady knight? Eleanor had not heard of
one before.
    Eleanor also remembered Riannon’s look of open admiration. Her frown deepened.
She had received enough such looks to recognise sexual appreciation. Yet,
Riannon was a woman.
    Eleanor’s last memory before finally slipping into sleep, though, was of a
different pair of green eyes and the sharp interest on Aveline’s face when
Eleanor admitted her widowhood.

Chapter Three
    Riannon nodded to Lady Barrowmere’s marshal and turned to stride through the
noisy chaos of saddle horses, laden sumpter horses, carts, grooms, esquires, and
pages. With Aveline deciding to travel with Lady Barrowmere, their combined
entourages resembled a small army and proved only slightly less difficult to
manage. Finally, though, they were ready to move. Servants and grooms had gone
ahead to secure lodging for the night and purchase provisions. That much, at
least, the two marshals – each jealous of his office and the prerogatives of his
mistress – had been able to cooperate on when Riannon stood over them.
    Aveline emerged from the main grove hall with the high priestess her anxious
shadow. Riannon kept well clear of them. Aveline, who disliked riding, headed
for her cumbersome covered wagon. Lady Barrowmere’s luxurious travelling
carriage would be no faster, though the five horses pulling it looked in better
condition than the naer’s. Their swollen train would be lucky to cover twenty
miles a day.
    Alan waited with Riannon’s horse. “It was less of a headache going to war.”
    Riannon did not disagree. She took the reins from him and swung up into the
saddle.
    “But at least one of the ladies is uncommonly easy on the eye,” Alan said.
    “Which no one could ever say about my Lord Damory,” Riannon said.
    Alan laughed. “A pity it is that she’s taken to the travelling carriage.”
    Riannon knew he did not mean Aveline. To her surprise, she soon saw Lady Eleanor
mount a fine grey palfrey. It had not occurred to her that Alan referred to the
lady’s niece rather than herself. Beside the handsome aunt, the niece paled to a
nervous nonentity who excited compassion rather than admiration.
    The cavalcade finally began to move. Lady Eleanor rode at the head, away from
the dust. One of her mounted escort included a minstrel. The lady intended to
convey her niece to her wedding in fitting style. Riannon thought it a great
shame that the Lady Cicely possessed none of her aunt’s wit or spirit. Still, a
livelier woman might suffer more being married to her eldest brother, if he were
anything like her memories of her blustering, bullying, boorish sire. Riannon
would have wagered her teeth that Aveline felt no qualms for the match she had
designed even now that she had met poor Cicely. After all, Cicely’s personal
inadequacies diminished the value of her inheritance by not a single acre or
knight’s fee.
    They had gone less than two miles before an esquire rode back to invite her to
join the Lady Eleanor. Riannon urged her horse forwards.
    Eleanor wore a snowy white wimple framing her face, as befitted a widow, beneath
the broad-brimmed straw hat that shielded her from the sun. Her long overtunic
was a highly expensive shade of crimson, which looked all the more striking
against the pale grey of her mare. Even the loose ends of her girdle glittered
with decorative gold work. Nothing about the lady did not catch the eye, though
a woman with so fair a face and figure would have drawn Riannon’s gaze even had
she worn an undyed woollen mantle about her