Chapter Six 

February 1327—England

James Rivers, otherwise known as the Red Knight, blew the errant hair out of his eyes and surveyed the surroundings.

"Lord Falconburg, welcome to my humble keep."

Lord Rudley trembled at the sight of James and his men. He smiled on the inside. Truth be told, he liked the effect he had on men. His disfigurement made him even more fearsome.

James nodded at the man as he dismounted and tossed the reins to a waiting boy. The boy seemed transfixed by his face. James winked at him, and the child smiled. At least one small child wasn't afraid of him. The rest seemed to run and shriek whenever they caught sight of him.

His warriors made themselves comfortable. They would leave in the morning if all went well, adding a few more to their company.

He followed the man inside the keep, noting the faded tapestries and threadbare rugs. No wonder the man was so eager to wed his daughter to the renowned Red Knight. He was in sore need of gold.

A serving girl took one look at his face, shrieked, and dropped the tray of wine. The cup shattered and wine ran across the floor like blood on a battlefield.

"She's a nervous one, my lord." Lord Rudley twisted his hands and looked as if he were about to start weeping.

Other servants crossed themselves, young girls shrieked and ran from the hall, while several small boys seemed to be growing. James looked over his shoulder and counted five. As most boys, they were fascinated by scars. He knew if he bellowed they would jump in fright. He yawned, anxious to be on his way.

An older woman, one not easily scared, brought wine. She poured and left without uttering a word.

"I will depart in the morning. Will Eleanor be ready to travel?"

The man stammered and stuttered. "She will want to take her lady's maid along."

"I expected as much. Most ladies seem to travel with a great deal of belongings. My men will ensure she is well guarded."

A commotion sounded from the direction of the kitchens. James heard shrieking and the sound of breaking pottery. The girl in question came running into the solar.

"Father, I will not wed the beast. I would rather die." The girl skidded to a stop as she caught sight of him sitting in a chair by the fire. Her mouth opened and closed several times, her eyes grew round, she made a strangled sound in her throat, and then she fainted in a small heap in the center of the room.

With his injured leg, James couldn't catch her in time. He cursed under his breath as her head banged against the stone floor.

Her father looked disgusted. "She is high-strung, nothing more. The priest is waiting."

More likely she was terrified of him, but the amount of gold James had offered ensured her father would give her to him. James snorted. For the amount of gold he was offering, her father likely wouldn't care what James did with the wench once he left the keep. He could only imagine the rumors about the unwholesome goings-on at Falconburg.

The girl's maid helped her up. Eleanor blinked several times. "Was I dreaming? Did the beast carry me away to his dark lair?" She trembled as a small mouse or rabbit caught in the gaze of a hungry falcon.

Then she looked at him. Stared at the scars on his face. James knew what was coming and put his fingers to his ears.

She let out a piercing shriek, jumped up, and fled her father's hall.

"No! I will not marry the beast. I cannot bear to look upon him. He will torture me. I would rather die."

Lord Rudley looked sheepish. "She will wed you, my lord. I will beat her until she says aye."

James wouldn't allow the girl to take a beating.

"She is young. I will not live with a wife who screams and faints every time she sees me." James stood. "Makes it rather difficult to produce an heir."

Lord Rudley pleaded, "Do not go. In time she will come to accept you. There is no need to break the betrothal."

James knew Eleanor would never look on him with anything other than revulsion. "I believe the betrothal is broken."

He made his way out of the keep, averting his eyes from each person he encountered so he wouldn't have to see the look of horror on their faces. 'Twas a new experience for a woman to scream in terror when she saw him. James was used to women throwing themselves at him. He was in a foul mood. He wanted children, needed an heir.

Mayhap he could find a wife who liked living in the dark. Or a blind wife. He called for the horses.

James slapped his captain on the back. "Eleanor finds me objectionable. There will be no nuptials."

Wisely, his captain remained mute.

James touched a hand to the long scars running down the right side of his aching face. 'Twas fortunate he had not lost the eye.

Now no fair lady in the realm would wed the beast of Falconburg. The name bestowed by a nameless serving wench while he lay burning with fever in some cursed inn. The cheek. Court news took ages to travel the lands, but a name? James swore viciously under his breath. Seemed every lady of breeding knew it well.

He used to be considered handsome. Women flocked to his bedchamber. Now, no woman would plight her troth to him, not even for the considerable amount of gold he possessed. Once again he touched the wicked-looking scar as if it were a talisman with unnatural powers. Another scar started at the corner of his nose and ran down through the outer edge of his mouth to march across his chin and down his neck.

Not long after he and his battled-hardened warriors left the keep, they were surrounded by ruffians. James had wanted to avoid the forest, but knowing it was the faster way home, he'd ignored the warning in his gut.

Men dropped out of the trees without making a sound. He admired the skill. Though not the blade presently pointed at his throat.

"What have we here?"

James spoke in a quiet voice. "I am the Red Knight. Take your men and leave and I won't put you and your men to the sword."

A few of the ruffians laughed, while others talked amongst themselves, worried looks crossing their faces. He knew his reputation. He was only surprised their leader had not heard of him. His fame had spread since his last battle and subsequent scars.

Women might fear him, while men stood in awe of his scarred countenance. Some flinched and tried to hide the reaction. A hideous warrior made the minstrels swoon as they composed ballads to his fearsome reputation. If only they could conjure him a wife. Now he was destined to spend the rest of his days alone. A hermit in his castle. The rumors of unsavory doings would soon follow.

Out of the corner of his eye, James saw one of the men nock an arrow. Without thinking, he unsheathed the tools of his trade. 'Twas what he was known for, fighting with two swords. The name, the Red Knight, came from his blood-soaked armor and sword during battle. Even in the aftermath, his skin would be stained red for days from all the blood.

The skirmish was brief. He cut down the first with one thrust. And ran three more through while the men finished off the rest. Disgusted, James looked down at the motley group of men. Many of them looked hungry. They'd obviously been living in the forest, preying on unwary travelers. They chose the wrong men to trifle with this day.

Tired, his shoulder aching from the arrow wound, James shifted in the saddle. He wore silk under his tunic, as arrows could not pierce silk. The tip went in, taking the silk with it, and could be pulled out without leaving any fragments behind, thereby decreasing the chance the wound would putrefy.

He was distracted thinking of the look of horror on the girl's face when she had looked upon his visage, and it had cost him. 'Twas disappointing, to say the least. He frowned at the wound.

"You'll find another," his captain said.

James didn't pretend not to understand. They'd spent the past fortnight traveling throughout the realm searching for a bride. It seemed even a castle full of gold wasn't enough to entice a woman to spend the rest of her life gazing upon his ruined face.

He was the last of his name. James wanted a large family. Sons to carry on when he was gone. A woman to love. Now he would have none of those things.

Almost home, he urged the horse forward.