In Search of Adventure

Chapter One: The Capture of Sir Bruce

It was a warm, pleasant day, the summer sun beaming brightly down upon the wide, well-traveled road leading to the stronghold of Birmingham. Amidst the tall linden trees and foliage, delicate blossoms of every description stood in full bloom, their refreshing scent filling the warm air. The air hummed with small insects and the notes of warbling birds drifted on the slight breeze. Mere words could not fully depict the fair beauty of the day, nor the vast pleasure it gave a Norman horseman traversing the road. The rider was young, about fourteen years of age. He gazed about him with glowing eyes and a half-smile upon his lips, of no mind to quicken the leisure pace of his steed. His master rode beside him, a fine-looking knight whose pleasant face and smile revealed his own pleasure in the beauty around him. “’Tis a fine morning, be it not, my lad?” was the knight’s remark, spoken at long-last. “’Tis perfect, balmy weather for our journey.” “That it is, milord, though I shall be very content to see our travels come to an end. Journeying from Belfast to Birmingham may not be a very arduous expedition, yet, I am weary of constant riding and the discomfort of inns.” A half-amused smile played about the lips of the young knight. “Thou wilt sleep in comfort tonight at any rate, Kenneth. I intend to halt at the castle of Lord Fitz Hasseltine, and, if events prove favorable, we may even reside thither for a fortnight or so.” “Of the events proving favorable, I have no doubts,” the lad returned, with a ringing laugh. “All my life, I have heard naught but tales of Sir Robert Fitz Hasseltine from thee. Yea, and I know that thou wouldst no more evade an opportunity to abide in his castle than thou wouldst steal.” The knight’s expression remained perfectly good-natured. “Thou know me all too well, Kenneth. Yet, when thou hast met Sir Robert, methinks thou wilt understand why I so desire to abide within his stronghold. Though thou know this tale well, I was in the castle when he was dubbed a knight, and, truly, a more pleasant, valiant young man was not to be found. Even now, every circulating report doth lay claim that there cannot be a more courageous, benevolent knight in the realm of England.” “I hardly think so,” Kenneth returned with spirit, his face half-flushing. “No knight on earth couldst be braver or kinder than thee, Sir Bruce. Yea, and not every squire can boast of having a master that is matchless in war and jousting as I can.” Then, as Sir Bruce seemed ready to disagree, Kenneth hastened passionately on. “Thou cannot refute me, Sir Bruce. Wilt thou contest the truth? ‘Twas but one month ago thou brought that cowardly knight who insulted thee to his knees in fair combat – aye, and justly so. Thou cannot refute thine own courage, nor will I stand by and see thee do it.” Sir Bruce smiled, much amused by his squire’s indignant flush and heated tone. “Thou art very loyal, Kenneth, although I will not claim to agree with thee. ‘Tis true I conquered Sir Rudolph in fair battle, but that scarcely places me on equal terms with Sir Robert Fitz Hasseltine. Yea, and while I cannot judge thy loyalty, I fear thou art sadly biased in this matter.” The color deepened in Kenneth’s face. “And wilt thou claim that he be any more chivalrous than thou? Thou didst not put thy craven foe to the sword, as any other man wouldst have done, but spared his unworthy life. In my mind, thou hast proven thyself the most chivalrous knight in England - though, verily ‘tis only thy squire that sayeth it. My opinion counts for very little, I know; yet I have the poor satisfaction of saying and believing that no man on earth is equal to my master.” Sir Bruce turned affectionate eyes on the flushed countenance of the lad. “Thou art a good lad, Kenneth – to say naught of a flattering one. Indeed, thou err when thou sayest thy opinion meaneth but little, for it meaneth a great deal to me. Though we may never agree upon this matter, I am grateful thou art so faithful to me and there is naught in this world that meaneth more to me than thy praise.” A warm light illuminated the eyes of the lad and, slowly, his color gave way to a quiet, gratified expression. A fleeting look between knight and squire bespoke the thoughts of their hearts, then, without having uttered another word, they turned their attention upon the road before them. For a time, all was quiet and peaceful, the warble of birds filling the air and evoking old reminisces in the minds of the twain that heard them. Yet, the serenity was not to last. Without warning, the tranquility was broken. Uttering a bloodcurdling shriek, a party of masked men leaped out upon the unsuspecting pair, closely followed by a helmed knight. Sir Bruce was brutally seized and divested of his weapons, but, by some providential hap, his squire managed to evade the clutches of the assassins. However, though out of immediate reach of their foes, Kenneth did not at once leave the scene of their peril. Seeing his master in the hands of the enemy, he hesitated, unwilling to leave his knight. Sir Bruce gestured urgently at him. “Fly, Kenneth, and save thyself!” “I cannot leave thee!” Kenneth’s voice held a despairing cry, and, without a moment’s contemplation, he began to ride back to share his lord’s fate. Instantly, the stern, almost angry voice of his master halted him. “Kenneth Dale, obey me at once! Fly, and leave me to my fate.” The tone of his master held a ring that Kenneth never dared to disobey, yet, his heart was torn betwixt sharing his lord’s fate or fleeing the impending danger. Several of the men, seeing his hesitation, steadily approached him, preparing to seize him in their pitiless clutches. Seeing their approach, the resolve to obey his master’s command surmounted Kenneth’s indecision. Abruptly, he leaned low over the neck of his steed and, with a quick blow from his crop, galloped from the place of his lord’s capture. With a shout, several of the masked men set out to overtake him, but to no avail. Kenneth’s start was a good one and, within moments, the men who sought to overtake him turned back.