illustration of the chivalrous knight. The impeccable image the modern aristocracy wants to portray, but falls short.
Someday when she was too old to recall her name, she’d still remember this. She'd remember living every little girl's dream. Once, a knight in shining armor took me to his castle .
Elinor sat straighter in the saddle and tried to rise to his level of elegance.
Chapter Eleven
They rode across a long, grassy field beyond her property. The once visible path was now overgrown with wildflowers. Basil grinned, watching her. “Such delight you take in the flowers.”
“They’re lovely. What an amazing shade of purple on that one with the round, plump blossom. I especially like those tiny blue and yellow ones.” Elinor pointed.
“Over the centuries I’ve ridden here countless times. I never paid them much attention.”
“I’m sure your mother or her ladies mentioned them.”
“I don’t recall.” Try as he might, Basil couldn’t remember if they had. He dug deep into his memory to no avail.
"Tell me about your family. What happened after you were killed?" Elinor asked.
He hadn’t talked about Grevill in a long time. Until Guy compared him to Theresa’s son, he hadn’t thought about his brother in recent memory.
Basil rode relaxed with one hand resting on the pommel and one on his thigh, as he had so often in life when on his land.
"After Poitiers, my brother Grevill inherited everything. He was an excellent liege lord, very perceptive. Neither our heritage nor our villeins suffered as a result of my loss. My brother was always mindful of the needs of the people who served us. It would be hard to find a more caring or generous man."
"How old was he when you died?"
"A score and one."
"As the oldest male, you inherited everything. If you had lived, he would have been a landless knight. Had he already made a name for himself in tournaments and such? He sounds rather mature for twenty-one? Was he at Poitiers, too?"
"No, he didn't go with the army to France. Grevill was born with a deformed and useless arm. Even so, he trained as hard as any other knight. Being fit in the lists is vastly different than warfare. His gift lay in areas less brutal. He oversaw my interests while I campaigned. It was a relief to me."
“Did he marry?”
“Yes.”
“There’s an Earldom attached to Ashenwyck, yet your family name is not well known to me, from a historical standpoint.”
“The last of his descendents died fighting for the king during the Civil War.”
“Cromwell again.”
Basil nodded. “Dreadful man.”
They made their way down into the ditch that was the moat. Elinor reined Guardian in at the top of the slope.
Basil halted next to her and sat quiet for a long time, taking in the ruin. He lifted his hand indicating two places on each side in front of them.
"This was the barbican. The gates were just beyond. These stones were part of the first curtain wall.” He pointed to a long row of rubble. “A second curtain wall manned by our archers protected the inner bailey. Attackers were forced to fight in a confined space while pinned by bowmen."
They trotted on into what was the bailey. Elinor walked Guardian around the courtyard's perimeter. "I'm trying to picture how it was, how it must've bustled with activity."
He showed her where the stable had stood, marking off the dimensions of the impressive structure.
They returned to the entrance of the old Keep and dismounted. Basil walked Saladin over to a mound bordered by brush and wild trees and tied the reins over a sapling branch.
"Why did you do that? Tie up a ghost horse?" Elinor tied Guardian to an oak a few feet away.
He patted Saladin's flank as he walked past. "Old habits die hard I guess. Come let's go up to the parapet." He held out a hand and she laid hers on his, not truly touching as they climbed the rampart’s loose stones.
Where the stairs narrowed, he let her take the lead, watching as she mounted the old steps. Her
Someday when she was too old to recall her name, she’d still remember this. She'd remember living every little girl's dream. Once, a knight in shining armor took me to his castle .
Elinor sat straighter in the saddle and tried to rise to his level of elegance.
Chapter Eleven
They rode across a long, grassy field beyond her property. The once visible path was now overgrown with wildflowers. Basil grinned, watching her. “Such delight you take in the flowers.”
“They’re lovely. What an amazing shade of purple on that one with the round, plump blossom. I especially like those tiny blue and yellow ones.” Elinor pointed.
“Over the centuries I’ve ridden here countless times. I never paid them much attention.”
“I’m sure your mother or her ladies mentioned them.”
“I don’t recall.” Try as he might, Basil couldn’t remember if they had. He dug deep into his memory to no avail.
"Tell me about your family. What happened after you were killed?" Elinor asked.
He hadn’t talked about Grevill in a long time. Until Guy compared him to Theresa’s son, he hadn’t thought about his brother in recent memory.
Basil rode relaxed with one hand resting on the pommel and one on his thigh, as he had so often in life when on his land.
"After Poitiers, my brother Grevill inherited everything. He was an excellent liege lord, very perceptive. Neither our heritage nor our villeins suffered as a result of my loss. My brother was always mindful of the needs of the people who served us. It would be hard to find a more caring or generous man."
"How old was he when you died?"
"A score and one."
"As the oldest male, you inherited everything. If you had lived, he would have been a landless knight. Had he already made a name for himself in tournaments and such? He sounds rather mature for twenty-one? Was he at Poitiers, too?"
"No, he didn't go with the army to France. Grevill was born with a deformed and useless arm. Even so, he trained as hard as any other knight. Being fit in the lists is vastly different than warfare. His gift lay in areas less brutal. He oversaw my interests while I campaigned. It was a relief to me."
“Did he marry?”
“Yes.”
“There’s an Earldom attached to Ashenwyck, yet your family name is not well known to me, from a historical standpoint.”
“The last of his descendents died fighting for the king during the Civil War.”
“Cromwell again.”
Basil nodded. “Dreadful man.”
They made their way down into the ditch that was the moat. Elinor reined Guardian in at the top of the slope.
Basil halted next to her and sat quiet for a long time, taking in the ruin. He lifted his hand indicating two places on each side in front of them.
"This was the barbican. The gates were just beyond. These stones were part of the first curtain wall.” He pointed to a long row of rubble. “A second curtain wall manned by our archers protected the inner bailey. Attackers were forced to fight in a confined space while pinned by bowmen."
They trotted on into what was the bailey. Elinor walked Guardian around the courtyard's perimeter. "I'm trying to picture how it was, how it must've bustled with activity."
He showed her where the stable had stood, marking off the dimensions of the impressive structure.
They returned to the entrance of the old Keep and dismounted. Basil walked Saladin over to a mound bordered by brush and wild trees and tied the reins over a sapling branch.
"Why did you do that? Tie up a ghost horse?" Elinor tied Guardian to an oak a few feet away.
He patted Saladin's flank as he walked past. "Old habits die hard I guess. Come let's go up to the parapet." He held out a hand and she laid hers on his, not truly touching as they climbed the rampart’s loose stones.
Where the stairs narrowed, he let her take the lead, watching as she mounted the old steps. Her
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