“Brave?” she asked, noting the unusually high pitch of her voice.
“Aye.” Simon nodded. “To be dragged from your home by your father’s enemy and not shed a tear. I can’t think of one other woman I’ve met who would have your fortitude.”
Emily tried not to let her relief show and it took her a minute to think of something to say. “I would be lying if I said I wasn’t homesick already. I’ve never been away from my family before, but the king’s men told me I could trust in Lord Draven’s oath to protect me. So I shall do as my king commands.”
Draven gave a snort that she thought might be his form of a laugh. “You’re a fool, lady, to believe in any man’s oath.”
Her heart stopped. Did he intend rape?
Simon reached for more cheese. “He’s just trying to scare you. I’m afraid my brother is a bit morbid. You’ll get used to it in time.”
A bit morbid, indeed. His words had come close to terrifying her.
She studied Draven who kept his gaze locked on her face. How she wished she could read his emotions as easily as she could Simon’s. It was so disturbing not to know where she stood with him.
Still, she knew better than to let her fears rule her. If her father had taught her anything in life, it was to stand strong and confront matters. Fears faced were seldom as bad the mind made them.
“You’ll have to do better, milord,” she said to Draven. “You’ll find I don’t scare easily.”
Draven looked away then and she caught the flash of sadness on his face. “If you’ll excuse me, I must see to my men.” As he rose to his feet, she noted that he favored his right leg and his gait had a very subtle limp to it.
When she looked back at Simon, she saw that his happiness had also fled.
“You’ll have to forgive my brother, milady. He’s a hard man to get to know.”
“And why is that?”
She could see the war inside him as he chewed his food, then swallowed. Simon offered her a tentative smile. “I would never betray my brother’s secrets. Suffice it to say he has had a very hard life.”
Emily frowned. “A hard life? He’s a hero to those loyal to the king. His name and legend are recounted in at least twenty chansons de geste that I know off the top of my head. How can one so revered?—”
“Draven is a man, milady, not a myth. He stands strong in battle because that is all he knows.”
It dawned on her what he meant. Emily looked to where Draven stood beside his horse. She knew the type of man Simon referred to. Those who were trained from the cradle for battle. Most noblemen, like her father and obviously Simon, were sheltered as children, then handed over around the age of six or seven to family friends or overlords to be trained first as gentlemen pages and then as soldiers. Their life was a mixture of courtly graces balanced by training for war.
But some fathers expected more of their sons. Those sons were never shown anything save war, and now she understood why Lord Draven was withdrawn. He had lived his life on the battlefield, in the company of enemies and soldiers.
“You do not share the same father?” she asked as she remembered Simon speaking of his father falling in battle.
Whereas rumors said that Lord Draven had killed his father in anger.
“Nay, milady. My father was more minstrel than knight. He was reliable in battle, but never the best.”
“And Draven’s father?”
Simon fell silent. She looked to his face and there encountered a look of hatred so strong that it set her back. “He was undefeated in battle. I’m told that some armies would merely see his pennant and immediately surrender.”
She’d heard those legends as well. Harold of Ravenswood was a man of renowned cruelty. Mothers had used his name for years to frighten their wayward children into behaving. “Why do you hate him?”
“I doubt you would believe me if I told you.”
And before she could question Simon further, Draven announced it was time for them to renew their journey.
No more words were spoken as they packed up their meals and remounted their horses.
Emily remained lost in thought as she sifted through old memories of what she could remember about Draven’s father, Harold. He’d died almost eight summers back. She knew that only because she recalled her father speaking about it to her mother over supper. Harold had once been an ally to her father when the two of them fought for King Stephen against Henry’s claim to the throne.
“I heard the devil claimed Harold of Ravenswood a sennight ago.”
