The girl in the tower

The castle gates swung open and a single knight on muddy steed rode in. A scruffy young page ran toward horse and rider.

“Welcome back Sir Estevan!”

The knight nodded subtly by way of acknowledgement. He handed the lad his helmet and chain mail gloves, and then unburdened himself of his heavy sword and finally, his mace. As the page took hold of the mace handle, he noticed the spiky globe end was still dripping with blood.

The boy placed a wooden footstool down and helped steady the horse as the armor-laden knight dismounted with a grunt. His charger snorted in disdain until its heavy load was standing on his own two feet.

“Give this animal a good drink and a wash.”

Sir Estevan loosened his breast plate as he clomped across the courtyard toward the great hall. He glanced up to the top of the grey tower to see if she was watching him but no face was visible in the small window. His pulse quickened and a tight, sickly feeling gripped his stomach. For a moment he thought he might be too late but then he saw movement. A ghostly white face appeared in the window. She looked tired and dishevelled. He met her desperate gaze with a determined stare, intended to reassure the girl.

As Estevan approached the main entrance to the hall, the guard pulled open the door and was surprised to see that Lord Umbrage was coming out to greet his guest.

“You’re back! You’re alive!” Umbrage sounded giddy with anticipation. “Well? Has my fiefdom been rid of that ruthless knave?”

“As per your wishes, Sire. Reginald’s head decorates a pike at the crossroads.”

“I must see for myself. Ready my mount!”          

In the woods near the crossroads, Reginald and his small army waited.