Surrender

Chapter Two: The Black Knight

Twain days after Manfred and squire settle on its outskirts, Countess Isabel arrived at Ravill. As a bride she traveled with a troop of attendance in a concealed carriage. Riding alongside her coach mounted men with lances and banners flapping with colourful streamers. Bugles herald as the wedding party overtook the village. Petals and cheer welcome Isabel who returns their smiles from her seat. Waving as any willing wife would her groom's people.

The carriage halted before the church. The lady with a hand for help descended onto the ground. She was gowned in a rich kirtle horizontally split by crashing tinctures of blue and red. A girdle gold with a rose pendent shaped her waist, while a silver neckless inlaid with sapphires draped her decolletage. Her hair twisted into a single braid woven with silk bands beneath a white barbette. Lastly peering from the hem of her bi coloured dress the toes of her brown shoes.

Standing in the steeple's shadow, she locked each arm with a lady for comfort. Due their courage she breathed out her fear and entered the chapel. Gathered behind the pleasant folk who so gaily greeted her cavalcade. Matrons, children, and all manner of common men whistling and reveling in the countess' beauty.

Waiting within were Baron Raul and his cohort. Flanked by her pally too so comely adorned, Isabel ambled amid aisles of leering faces. In that age churches had no pews, so all in audience were already stood. Though each among respected the passing bride with bows and curtsy. Relations remembered and unbeknownst huddled abound with their families. Wearing the fashion of their ranking with spouses in arm. The doors at their backs left wide apart.

The crowd narrowed toward the alter, where watched Baron Raul. Observing his prize approach seemingly unwilful. He had not expected her to appear so obedient. Demure in posture and mien sans tears and terror. Raul was vigorous contrary age, with brown peppery hair and light green eyes. He was handsome despite facial scars, stout and stern. His blue tunic affix with a red belt, swordless as any affable person aught be in God's holy house. Raul's fine boots were crimson too, and tuck into them his pure white woolen hosen.

Before the Baron her ladies deserted Isabel, adding themselves to the attendance. The priest began the liturgy in Latin as the couple are brought beside another. Their right hands tethered with a band together, Raul's over Isabel's as the priest solemnized. The ritual rung faint as she frets its commencement. For behind she harked no tumult, yearning in that moment for Manfred. The man shouldering imposing, his cold palm freezing her knuckles. She peaked toward their binding, her own lost beneath Raul's hard hand. A hand which could come to cuff, or cosset Isabel if her servant remained truant.

Her attention raising to the baron's chin. His cheeks and jaw sharpened by a well comb graying beard. If he were not so malice, mayhap Isabel would be pleased by so attractive a husband. Yet he had not earned her through the errant of courtship, rather she was given to him by their king. Raul loved the county of Montain and fortune of a young wife. He could carry her abed by force and withstand his want the fragile lady could not. The baron's arms were thrice hers, and there were whispers of his savagery against subject women.

Suddenly thundered through the open threshold a black knight bestride a sable stallion. His helmet, shield, and surcoat, alike midnight as he dispersed the screaming press on the back of a gallop. Harnessed from coif to foot in chainmail. Helter took over as the horseman skelter up to the alter. With a gleaming sword hooves clapped their climbed toward the bride. If any groomsmen were brave to try for his bridle, Manfred tush them away with a weapon's wave. Clearing his escape with his horse and blade. Raul and Isabel were parted by his steed, preventing the baron from interfering Manfred's kite shield. Yet Raul did not oppose the intruder. Shirking away not out of cowardice but due use, knowing the ease which a sword renders.

Isabel cried as true as any kidnapped bride. Though when Manfred lean down to catch her, she too easily slid into his seize. Hoisting her overlap, the dark rider wheeled around. Digging spurs he trotted out with the Countess over saddle.
"Fie! I am to be ravaged!" Wailed she. "Oh seigneurs salvage me!"

The horse hurried down the street. Every kick from its master urging him faster through the scattering rabble ahead. When reach the village green, Isabel ceased her screams. Baffling the bystander as they sped across to why a stolen bride should sudden stop her fretful fracas. In Manfred's arms she was ridden offroad into a forest down practiced trails.

Outside the church thecountess' guard were slow to remount and rearm. When soaring out from under the steeple stayed on the highway. Chasing the misleading cries of Tybolt. Whom from aback his own horse guided them astray. After an abductor eastbound when truly the black knight had fled west.