Surrender

Chapter Four: Sir Estienne

Manfred woke up with Isabel beside him and the fire cooled to embers. His arm rested on her pillow whilst she slept peacefully. Her hair a tangle of flax and full lips parted.

In the low light of a coming sun, he decamped. Stealthily ready so not to rudely rouse his lady. He that verging morn reminisced his first hunt. Manfred had cried out from the fright of an unknown night. Consoled to sleep only in the arms of his brother.

He gains pride, for his refuge in his betoken trust. That all fears of yester would no longer hinder her comfort. Though there was a strangeness accompanying his mood. For this the virgin hour when ever awoken against a woman. Finding his lady pressed to him sparked this sense to remain half asleep holding her. Yet those thoughts were unbecoming a knight. For the countess should not demean her virtue by lying in the dark with a man. What a foul thing they may decry of Isabel if ever discovered. Indecently living wild with her retainer whence they shared a sheet to lie.

Gingerly Isabel was woken with a whisper, "Arise my lady, we ought to be off." With a yawn she slowly sat up, rubbing her eyes. As Manfred folded the blankets Isabel brushed her hair. After some water she wore her wimple and was helped atop her horse. The knight kicked dirt onto the ash of their fire before boarding his steed. Then with his ladyship's reins in hand, led them out.

By dawn they were gone into the ravine, riding through the tapering trail. The trees loud with sundry songbirds. Isabel sat drowsy, in hand a skin of water.

"These pests," she whined behind.

"Excuse me, my lady?"

"The warbling, it pains my head."

Manfred was in his aketon and padded shoe, which he had worn beneath his mail. His sword was always at hand and shield reachable slung his saddle. Isabel was still disguised in linen headscarf and brown kirtle. They really looked so lowly a coupling. A soldier and his wife wanderlust in the woods. It was no wonder why that axeman mocked them so.

The forest lessened as they came to a river. Following alongside the channel northwest. Where seen by Isabel the leaping splash of fish and the scaling of squirrels. A heron flew over where the meander shallowed and floating frogs did dived from their flight. Manfred remained muted while the warblers on high sang to the riders passing under. Isabel watched the wildlife in enchantment. Spying a kingfisher's brilliant blue plumage perched on a riverside root. Its body bobbing with the branch whilst its head held steady as a statue.

Isabel rueful ruminated last night. Ashamed for having seeked security in her servant. Chastising herself for being so childish as to quake from that which in light was so aweing. Hiding in Manfred like a trembling girl. Though his arms were a fortress and fire like the hearth of a home fled. So warm and sturdy it nulled Isabel to sleep.

They crossed beneath the eaves of leaves onto an open road spanning pastures and paddocks. Here was a hamlet of farms with a grange opposite. The plains flowering with the flaps of butterflies. Nearby the buzz of harvest as the bees droned to and fro their wooden roofed hives. In the mowed grass sheep huddled like clusters of sky fallen clouds. Their rabbles led by rams who grazed with their many mates and lambs.

Curious were the enclosures of horses. For they seemed sans stallions though many mares were expecting mothers. The fencing was newly mended and the ground within tattered from battle. Torn and upturned from a multitude of hooves now vacant. Vultures were preening on the few trees which dotted the rolling hills. A couple were waddling within the pen searching for scrapes in the patches horses avoided.

Manfred saw no carrion from the vantage of his saddle. Nor nary a stable hand or keeper over the mares. The hamlet was seemingly barren of men. Only matrons and youths were seen choring in the yards and fields. Herding flocks, fetching water, or spinning thread.