Page 8 of Picking Up the Gauntlet

“My lords, that is too generous of you,” said Jonathon, knowing he’d never get a chance like this again. Avery would be excited to hear this, and probably never stop thanking Jonathon for suggesting him. This would be a good opportunity for both of them. Jonathon wanted to polish his fighting skills, but none of the commoners were a match for him. To be welcomed in, fed, and given the grand treatment is something that usually didn’t happen to someone like him—a mere commoner. Perhaps, he decided, he could put up with the troublesome wench for a few weeks after all. At least he’d get his foot in the door, and hopefully impress Lord Corbett with his skills. With any luck at all, mayhap he would even be offered a permanent position at the castle someday. It would be a good secondary plan should he not get accepted as guild master and have the opportunity to open his own shop. He was sure the pay and opportunities of working at the castle would be grand, even if owning his own shop was his dream.

“Then it’s finalized,” said Corbett, holding out his hand to shake on the deal.

Jonathon looked from Rook to Corbett once more, and nodded. “Of course, thank you, my lords,” he said, shaking first Corbett’s hand and then Rook’s, feeling like a king, since nobles didn’t usually make deals or shake hands with commoners. “I mean, after all, how much trouble could one girl possibly be?”

“You’d be surprised,” mumbled Rook, as they headed for the door.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” said Corbett, turning back around. “I don’t want Lady Raven, or my wife, or anyone else to know why you are really there or what you’ve been hired to do.”

“So... I’m just going to follow Lady Raven around, and she won’t wonder why?” asked Jonathon.

“Of course she will, and she’s going to hate it,” said Rook with a chuckle.

“Then, what will I tell her?” asked Jonathon, feeling suddenly panicked. “What am I going to say as an excuse to be near her?”

“You’re right, that won’t work. I’ll just have to tell her you’re there as her personal guard for security purposes, and not to give you any trouble,” said Corbett, following Rook out the door. “Hopefully, having a guard at her side all day long will fix our little problem.”

Jonathon stood there with his mouth hanging open, watching the Lords Blake mount their horses and ride away.

“Jonathon?” came his father’s voice as he hobbled down the stairs. “Is that the Lords Blake riding away? Were they just here?”

“Aye, Father,” Jonathon answered, still staring out the window in a daze.

“Well, what did they want?” He looked around the room. “I don’t see that they left any of their armor to be repaired.”

“It’s not armor they want me to fix this time.” Jonathon turned around and headed back to the forge. Now, even the blazing flames from inside the hearth seemed mild, compared to what he was about to face.

“If not, then what do they want you to fix?” asked his father, following him.

Jonathon picked up the hammer and slammed it down against the anvil, making a loud clanking sound that rang out through the room.

“I’ve just agreed to a job that I honestly wish I hadn’t.”

“I don’t understand.” His father came closer, cocking his head and squinting one eye.

“Let’s just put it this way,” said Jonathon, not wanting to break his promise of not telling anyone about the real reason. “The Lords Blake want me to fix something that is most likely too damaged to ever be repaired.”

Chapter 3

Two days later, Raven awoke to a knock at her solar door. Usually, she was up early to work with her weapons before any of the men got to the practice yard, but she was too distraught lately even to do that. After the chastising she received from her father and brother, she was rebelling in her own way. She barely spoke to them, and decided she wouldn’t even show up in the great hall this morning to break the fast.

“Who is it?” she mumbled, pushing up in bed and looking over at the door. The slight stream of light coming into the room from the crack in the shutter told her it was probably already late morning.

The door swung open and her handmaid, Emma, hurried into the room, followed by someone else. It was too dark to see who it was. Raven rubbed her sleepy eyes, yawned, and lay back down.

“Lady Raven, your father sent me up here to wake you,” announced the handmaid.

“I told my father I don’t want or need a handmaid,” she answered, yawning again and turning over and closing her eyes.

“I’m sorry, but I am only doing my job.” Emma opened the shutter. Bright light filled the room. Even with her eyes closed, Raven could tell. “You missed the meal in the great hall and your mother is worried that you might be sick.”

“I am,” she said, with her eyes still closed. “Sick and tired of being told what to do.”

“Cousin, ye are a lazy oaf—now get up and start yer day.” The covers were ripped off of her and a chill traveled through her body. Raven’s eyes popped open, a smile crossing her face.

“Lark? Lark! What are you doing here?” Raven bolted to an upright position, giving her Scottish cousin a big hug.

While Raven was the daughter of the English lord Corbett Blake, Lark was the daughter of Corbett’s sister, Wren. Wren married a Highlander named Storm MacKeefe. The MacKeefes were known to be crazy at times, and even called madmen on occasion. Storm and his clan proved that was true by their actions.