Page 51 of Fortress of Snow

“Are you sure you’re well?” He was so kind and gentle, while the gruff edge of his voice turned her chest inside out.

“I am not hurt. But now that it’s all over, I just want to go home.”

“Of course. I’ll walk with you.”

He paused to speak to Ro’s father, who was moaning and grousing about the condition of their booth. He said he would stay and work on fixing it and let Berenger take Mazy home.

“I’ll stay with Father,” Ro said.

Sir Berenger checked the goods they had tied to their horse, making sure everything was secure. Then they started on their way.

She wanted to hold on to his arm, even imagined herself with her arms around him, crying on his shoulder, but she never could do that, never could let herself appear weak. Anyone from the market who saw her, especially those who called her Knife Girl, and Sir Berenger and Ro as well, would lose respect for her if they saw her crying. No, she had to be strong. But even more importantly, she didn’t know if Sir Berenger would want her crying on his shoulder, or if he would think she was in love with him or that she wanted him to take care of her. And she couldnotmake him think that. She would be mortified.

She could cry into her pillow when she was alone.

Berenger had watched Mazy being held at the mercy of those merciless men, but then, somehow, he had let the ice-cold calm flow through him, just as it did when he was fighting a battle. He’d done what he needed to do to capture the violent men. But now that it was all over, now that he’d talked calmly with Mazy and Ro and was walking Mazy home, the heat crept up his neck. He saw those men holding Mazy against her willwhile that other man leaned menacingly into her face, taunting her, then threatening her with the knife. He had wanted to rip those men apart. He even imagined running them through with his sword.

How dare they touch Mazy? She was sweet and strong and everything good. She was also soft and beautiful and deserved only good things and good people in her life.

Why couldn’t this world be just? Why did it always seem that the best people suffered the most?

He took a deep breath and forced himself to expel the ugly thought with the air. She was safe. He could be thankful to God that he arrived in time, that she was unhurt. That was what he needed to focus on. She was not injured, and he had captured all the men who had threatened her.

After walking a few feet, Mazy stopped, as if to check her horse, but then turned to look at him, leaning toward him.

“Thank you.” She said the words softly, her eyes shining with tears. She blinked them away. “It is good that you came when you did.”

His heart warmed even as his head cooled. “God is faithful. He got me there in time.”

“Yes. Thank You, God.” She glanced up at the clouds, smiling. “All is well now. But why did those men do that? What made them start bashing everything and everyone in sight?”

“I don’t know. I suppose that is for the king and his advisers and their appointed mediators to discover. Let us hope it was only what it seemed to be—a very small, short-lived rebellion.”

His heart was strangely full as he gazed at Mazy. He didn’twant to leave her alone anymore to fend for herself. Perhaps someday the king would give him land and a title, a way to support a wife, and then... he could ask Mazy to marry him.

It was a rather startling thought. He’d always thought Mazy was beautiful, but when he first met her, she was Sir John’s little sister. She was almost a woman, but with the innocence of someone unaware of the ways of men, even though she knew how to ride a horse like a man and could throw a knife and shoot a bow with amazing accuracy.

Was he tempting fate to think about marrying anyone? He was allowing himself to hope for something that, at this moment, was not even possible. But when he saw those men try to harm Mazy, he knew he could not bear to have her taken from him. He wanted to hold her and take care of her and never let anything evil get near her again.

But he didn’t even have a home. Was it wrong to hope? Or did she only think of him as her brother’s friend and Delia’s brother? Hope thwarted led to disappointment, and sometimes even resentment and bitterness.

When they reached her home, he unloaded their goods from the horse. “I will return to look in on you soon,” he said. “I must go and make sure the prisoners are all secured.”

“Of course. Thank you, Sir Berenger.” She gave him such a sweet smile, it made his chest ache.

He couldn’t seem to tear his eyes from her face. He had an urge to touch her cheek, to feel how soft her skin was. Instead, he said, “Fare well.”

He quickly mounted his horse and left.

***

A few days later, Berenger arrived at the palace. The king had specifically asked that Berenger be there today for the Feast of Saint Nicholas. He wasn’t sure what to expect.

He looked around the Great Hall but didn’t see any other knights in attendance.

“Sir Berenger? The king wants you to sit here.” The chancellor came up behind him and indicated a place at a long trestle table set up on the dais that was quite near the king.

Berenger almost asked him, “Are you sure?” But he sat down where he was told.