Honour of the Heart

Chapter one

“I do not know what you are thinking but I doubt the High Lord would approve!” he said as he stroked his short beard, a look of mock severity on his face.

Usually Aline would have responded with a lighthearted retort to her friend but after the morning’s audience she found she could not summon the energy.  “You know I give him no cause for disapproval,” she replied defensively.  “I read all the dusty old histories and treatises on diplomacy I am tasked with learning.  I sit for hours listening to the council discuss matters of the province and beyond.  I am a gracious hostess and a dutiful, modest lady of court.  I play every part he expects.  There is nothing he has asked of me that I have not done!”

“I know, Aline, I’m only teasing.” The young knight held his hands out in mock supplication then put his hands on Alines shoulders.  “I’m sorry.  Your father would have been proud of you, your brother too.  You will be a great High Lady when the time comes.”

A familiar ache clawed Aline’s heart at the mention of her family. Six years on she still missed them dreadfully.  Her fingers moved instinctively to the necklace she always wore, a smooth amethyst set into a filigree of silver; the legacy of the mother who had followed her husband and son to the grave barely a year after their deaths.

“You do want to marry don’t you?” Godfrey asked, linking his arm in Aline’s as they strolled into the chilly morning air.

“Of course,” Aline replied, “I’m not so naïve to think I will be allowed to choose for love, though I hope to at least like my husband!”

Godfrey laughed gently, “Matilda was not my first choice but we are happy.  You will be too.”

They had reached the archway leading to the stableyard and said their farewells.  Aline watched as Godfrey returned to the castle, only slightly regretting that when she had been his first choice she had said no.

The sky had lightened as Aline made her way round the inner wall to the stable yard where an unexpected sight made her pause in surprise.  Instead of Robert, her usual groom, a younger man stood holding the reins of the two horses that stamped their hooves impatiently.

“Greetings, my lady,” the man said with a sweeping bow.

“Who are you and where is Robert?”  Aline asked him cautiously. 

The man raised his eyes to Aline’s, pushing a lock of sandy coloured hair from his face.  Now that she had time to study him the man’s face was familiar and Aline recalled she had seen him absorbed in tasks around the stables once or twice over the past few weeks.  “My name is Dickon, my lady.  Robert apologises that he cannot attend you today but an unexpected malady of, how shall I say it, a ‘delicate’ nature’ has left him unable to move far from the privy.”

Aline laughed at his tale, instinctively liking him, though doubt crept into her mind.  Robert had been her escort for as long as she remembered; he had been the person who lifted her onto her first childhood pony and was well trusted to accompany her alone.  Riding unchaperoned in the company of this young man would be highly improper.  Her grandfather would have plenty to say if he ever found out.

“I’m not sure… Perhaps we had better not ride today,” Aline began.

The groom tipped his head to one side and his lips twitched into a half-smile.  “If you wish, though I for one would be sad to miss such a fine day, especially when I had thought my only company was to be horseflies and the saddle-grease pot!”

A well brought up and respectable lady would send for a maid to accompany them, but none rode as swiftly as Aline did and she so wanted an exciting day.  Dickon’s steady brown eyes were watching her earnestly.  The morning’s audience with the council sped through her mind and a spark of rebellion that had been growing since Godfrey’s teasing flared inside her.  She lifted her chin.