The Tudor Witch Book 1 Mistress

1523 Journey (Edited)

Although his face is covered, I can just imagine the smug, arrogant man who stands behind the metal. Exasperated, I pull my silver blade quickly from my boot sheath, placing it at the base of his throat, where the helmet breaks to meet the breastplate.

"I can take care of myself against the dangers we might pass on the roads and I do not desire to wait by myself until a new escort arrives. I am not unarmed and I know perfectly well how to use this. We shall travel the roads. The moon is nearly full; we can use its light to travel." I remove my blade slowly.

I can not help but feel glee. I have caught him off guard. I have little idea how to use this. Swordplay was not part of my instruction but I will not be played for a fool in this English realm. We will ride to my sisters quickly and without haste. Plans need to be made and I will not lose valuable time due to the dark, and a foolish superstitious escort. I place my thin blade back into its sheath.

The knight steps away and begins to mount his horse. "You are a foolish French girl," he spits. "You will get us both killed because you think your little dagger trick is impressive. Thieves rule the broken roads at night. This is not France; this is England, and if you go somewhere dangerous alone at night, no one will help you when it starts to go wrong."

The knight quickly kicks his horse into a gallop, while I follow suit. I can not wait till morning. My mother said I must arrive early. There are many of our faith seeking the eye of the king and if I am late, some other would catch his eye and my efforts would be wasted.

The beach breaks, and the horses pick up speed. It is exhilarating. These English horses have power. As they run across the flat terrain I can not help but admire the young knight in front —even if his attitude was unseemly—he is one with the horse. Though he is clad from head to toe in metal, he still has the grace of a swan.

The moon appears huge, towering above us in the sky. Its white glow guides us along the terrain and into the forest ahead. The knight glances back at me before we hit the muddy track. His voice utters no words but I can sense his unease.

Perhaps I was wrong to suggest we travel in the dark.

The forest has a perfectly beaten track. The pathway is littered with heaps of coalesced leaves and mud, already dry and beaten from the feet of earlier travelers. The horses can no longer gallop at a fast speed due to the amount of forks in the road, so we hold a steady pace which swiftly takes us to the middle of the forest, where the trees are thickest and the moon's light is the weakest.

Something feels wrong. As I slow my horse down to a trot, I try to assess the area. Dark forest, dark atmosphere. However, nothing seems amiss. Yet I was always told I must trust my instincts during situations like these.

"Sir," I shout.

He does not turn around. He is too far ahead; he probably hasn't heard me. He brings his horse up short and turns back to my direction. He must have noticed that I was no longer echoing his footfalls. He begins to trot back towards me.

"My lady, what is wrong? Has someone changed her mind? Does the darkness perhaps pose too much of a danger?" He gloats.

I can hear the laughter in his voice, the ringing notes of triumph evident in his speech. Perhaps he is right. Perhaps I am a stupid French girl.

"My lady, what is wrong?" All vindictiveness vanished from his tone, replaced by genuine concern.

"Do you not feel it?" I whisper, my hands becoming cold.

"Feel what? Is this another French game? Because if it is, I am not falling for it. I have a job to do, My Lady, and like you mentioned earlier, we need to get there quickly."