When he arrived at the stables that housed the horses of the nobility, including his own steed, he was not surprised to find numerous other courtiers milling in the stable yard, mostly ladies, including Lady Estora’s sisters. Word of her ride into the country must have spread quickly through the noble wing. Once the word was out, it would have been impossible for her to leave castle grounds without an entourage, whether she desired one or not. Nobles rarely traveled alone, and for someone of Estora’s rank to travel without an entourage would have been shocking.
In addition to all the courtiers, he picked out six Weapons and six cavalry officers who were Lady Estora’s guards for the excursion.
Interesting.
Some were mounted and others sipped tea and brandy while awaiting grooms to bring out their horses. Lady Estora sat sidesaddle atop her mare, the skirts of her habit splayed across her horse’s flank. Black was a harsh color on her, but he did not disapprove. The cut of Estora’s habit and surcoat had a military style to it, like that of many of the other ladies, but hers was filled out with enough brocade and frills to make it eminently feminine. Her golden hair was tucked and pinned under a hat that was decorated with long trailing pheasant feathers.
While his stallion, Goss, was readied, Amberhill made the rounds, greeting the assembled, making matrons blush and Estora’s sisters, both younger, giggle. The girls were pretty, but not of the same rare beauty as their elder sister. One still retained the roundness of prepubescence.
He counted fifteen additional nobles, accompanied by almost as many servants. Not a huge party, for which he was glad, but enough to permit confusion. Zachary, thank the gods, had not joined them.
Horses stamped and shook their manes and steam rose from their nostrils. It was a cold morning with a hard frost, but good riding weather. There wasn’t a single cloud in the sky.
A groom led Goss out to Amberhill and the stallion’s dark bay coat shone in the morning light. He mounted and soon the company rode off castle grounds, hooves clattering over the bridge at the gates, and onto the Winding Way. Three Weapons ranged ahead while the other three dropped behind to guard from the rear. The cavalry officers were more intent upon looking handsome in their uniforms and flirting with the ladies than performing guard duty. Lady Estora rode at the head of the nobles, conversing with Lady Miranda, and clearly enjoying herself. Last of all trailed the servants.
Amberhill stayed near Lady Estora, keeping watch on her. Townsfolk gathered to observe the company ride by, and to gaze upon the one who was to be their queen. She waved and smiled to them, and her greetings were returned with enthusiasm, and, it appeared, gratitude. Amberhill suspected she was going to make a popular queen.
When the party rode through the main city gates and emerged before the Eletian encampment, Lady Estora reined her horse to a halt. The colorful tents billowed in the breeze, their colors intense beneath the sun. As was usual, there was no sign of the Eletians astir in their camp, but if this disappointed Lady Estora, he could not tell. She just seemed glad to be free of the castle grounds, her features less taut, happier.
He edged Goss up beside her. “What do you make of it, my lady?” he asked.
“Eletian,” she said. Then she laughed.
“Truly,” and he couldn’t help but smile. “Do you have a particular course in mind for today?”
She laughed again and it made him think of the joyful girl she must have been before the world began to press its problems on her. “I did not think beyond this point.”
Those nearby who overheard began suggesting their favorite rides. Most were easy courses over rolling farmland, and well-traveled.
“I’ve another in mind,” Amberhill said, “perhaps a little more challenging, a little wilder, through the woods west of here. It is a trail most often used by hunters and woodsmen, but clear enough for those mounted. I daresay there will be logs to jump and streams to ford.”
Lady Estora looked uncertain, so he added, “There is a fine lake by which we may picnic. We are apt to see moose there, and waterfowl.”
“Oh, I know that place,” said Lord Henley. “It is as our Amberhill suggests, more challenging, but exhilarating. Most enjoyable.”
“Let us try it then,” she said. “I will not be put off by a little challenge, and today is all about different scenery.”
Amberhill fought to conceal his relief. If she had ignored his suggestion and taken some other route, it would have complicated his plans. He gestured down the road. “This is the way, my lady.” He reined Goss onto the Kingway and headed west.
Fields became apple groves, a sweet scent arising from fallen apples pulverized beneath hooves. Soon the apple groves turned to overgrown meadows with trees still clutching onto brightly hued leaves, and finally they entered the darker, more primal forest, all sounds subdued and the ground soft with pine needles and moss.
They had galloped and cantered over open land, jumped hedges and old stone fences, laughing and scattering birds and a fox from the fields before them. But now in the forest they quieted for a time, absorbing the feel and woodsy smell. Now and then a hoof clacked on a rock or a horse snorted.
Goss was turning out to be something of a nuisance. The run got his blood rising and he was all too interested in Lady Miranda’s mare, who must be in heat. He arched his neck and pranced, his ears perked straight ahead.
“This is not the time,” Amberhill murmured to his stallion. Goss tossed his head, uninterested in anything his master had to say.