A Knight to Remember

  A Knight to Remember

  An Elisade Novel

  Ceillie Simkiss

  Copyright © 2019 by Ceillie Simkiss

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover by Elliot Cooper at elliotcooperwrites.com featuring stock photos from PeriodImages and DepositPhotos.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Newsletter

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Ceillie Simkiss

  About the Author

  For everyone searching for themselves in fantasy, I hope you’ll see something familiar here.

  1

  MASTER CORMAC LAMBERT, BLACKSMITH

  You could say that I had been having a fairly normal day. A knight had commissioned a new coif, my apprentice was whining about making nails, and I intended to spend the afternoon flirting with my friend the tailor whenever said apprentice was distracted by his character building assignment.

  Normal, that is, until a muscular woman who looked resplendent in a deep violet riding gown walked into the smithy. She plunked down a cloth purse that was so heavy it barely jingled when it hit the top of the granite countertop that separated the storefront from the rest of the workshop. I looked up from the account books I was working on and she spoke as soon as she had my attention.

  “I have a challenge for you, smith.”

  Her voice was bright and steady, much like the smile that played across her golden brown face. She had a lilting accent that reminded me of home. I closed the book I was working on and placed my pen back into its holder, turning on my best salesman grin. It was clear from this woman’s clothing that she had money.

  “Cormac Lambert at your service. How can I help you, my lady? A new suit of mail for your betrothed? A new sword for your father or brother?”

  The forge behind him had gone suspiciously quiet. He glanced back and saw that his apprentice was staring slack jawed at the noble visitor, who stood with her back ramrod straight before him.

  “Or perhaps you would like to hire my useless apprentice?” I growled. The impudent boy grinned at me before going back to his work.

  “As tempting as that sounds, I have a proposition that I think you will find much more interesting,” she informed me. Her glinting hazel eyes never left my face. I raised an eyebrow at her and gestured to the stool that I knew stood in front of her on the other side of the counter.

  “Interesting, eh? Let’s talk then.”

  SER GENEVIEVE OF TEAGAN, KNIGHT OF ELISADE

  As I took my seat at the counter, the smith asked his apprentice to finish up his batch of nails and then bring out refreshments. We both watched quietly as he hammered each strip on all four sides to create a point, then sliced off the nail to make sure each was the right length with a practiced hand. He hung his apron on the wall once he was finished and bowed to us both before scurrying out of the room. He looked to be a few years younger than I was, maybe fifteen or sixteen. Soot marked the tanned skin where he’d likely wiped sweat from his eyes with the back of his hands, and his eyes were the deep brown of healthy forest loam. With his easy smile and skills, I knew he would be a handsome man in a few years’ time.

  “He doesn’t seem so useless to me,” I told Cormac. “At least when it comes to nails.”

  He laughed so loudly and deeply that it was almost as if someone had struck a gong in the smithy.

  “Oh, he isn’t. He’s one of the better apprentices I’ve had, and he knows it. I’ve learned that you can’t tell them that all the time, though. It goes to their heads and soon enough they’re so full of hot air they can’t come into the smithy because their mouths act as a bellows whenever they open them.”

  That startled a laugh out of me, just in time for the boy to come back in with a carefully balanced tray that held two cups, a bottle of fruit juice and a pitcher of water. I could feel Cormac’s eyes on me as I thanked him for the refreshments, and guessed that he was trying to figure out who I was. After a sip, I decided to give him a hint.

  “What’s your name, son?”

  The boy bowed before smiling back up at me and answering.

  “Finn, my lady.”

  “Don’t let your old master here get you down, Finn,” I said with a wink. “You made those nails more skillfully than many of the knights in the palace ever managed. You’re probably even better at it than I am, even though I trained under Cormac here when I was just a wee thing.”

  Finn blushed and started to answer but was interrupted when the smith jumped from his stool in surprise. I grinned at him, clapping my hands together lightly in delight. He walked around the counter to greet me properly with the bow and a handshake. His palms were rough even against my own callused one.

  “Lady Genevieve of Teagan, as I live and breathe! I’ve been trying to figure out who you were since you walked in! ”

  “In the flesh! Though you should know it’s actually Ser Genevieve now.”

  “You were officially knighted! Congratulations, ser! I was so used to seeing you in those grubby trousers you used to run in and out of my Teagan smithy in that I didn’t recognize you in all of this.” He gestured to the outfit I wore, which was admittedly significantly nicer than what Mother had allowed me to run around in before I’d become a page.

  “Yes, I was knighted last fall. It’s good to see you too, Cormac. I won’t even be offended that you didn’t recognize me at first, though I am technically still wearing trousers. ”

  He looked at where I sat on the stool, confused.

  I spread my legs ever so slightly to show off the fact that there was a split in the skirt that made it into a pair of pants. It was one of my favorite modifications to make to my fashionable clothes. The rest of the time, I just wore trousers.

  “I should have known. You never would ride in a dress if you could help it. I’m glad to see you haven’t changed much.”

  I winked at him before pouring myself a glass of fruit juice.

  “Would you like some?”

  He shook his head, pouring water into the other cup on the tray and returning to his own stool.

  “Now that you’ve remembered who I am, shall we get down to business?”

  “Absolutely, but first, let me take care of something.”

  He spun on his stool to face his apprentice. Finn had been tidying the workshop while we talked.

  “Finn, it’s about time for you to take a lunch break. Come back when the bell strikes three and we can finish tidying up together.”

  The boy bowed to his master, grabbed a satchel from behind the counter and scampered off. As soon as the door swung shut behind him, I fixed my gaze on the smith. He hadn’t changed much in the years since I’d seen him. His hair was in the same messy ponytail and he had the same scraggly beard I remembered, though his face was more wrinkled now.

  “Now, how busy are you? I have a challenge that could make your business famous around the world.”

  He cocked a greying eyebrow at me and I grinned.

  “Famous, eh? What have you got for me, Ser? I can hear you out at the very least, and maybe point you in another direction if it’s not something I can handle.”

  I folded my hands in my lap, running the thumb of one hand over the knuckles of the other. I took a deep breath, trying to contain my e
xcitement and nervousness about what I was about to ask him to do.

  “I need a dress for the king’s ball in November, and I want you to make it.”

  Nearly a minute passed where we both just stared at each other. Cormac’s jaw was nearly on the floor. I knew it was probably the strangest request he had ever received.

  “Ser, you realize this is a blacksmith’s forge, and not a tailor’s shop, right? I do not have the skills to make a dress. I make chain mail and ornamental ironwork, I’m not a dressmaker.”

  “Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. I think that, with some adjustments, you could make a stunning chain mail dress, with some ornamental pieces.”

  The blacksmith studied my face, his curiosity plain in the focus of his gaze and tilt of his head.

  “Okay, I’ll bite. Give me some more information.”

  I had to stop myself from squealing with glee. A smile spread across my face as I dove into the satchel I had brought with me, digging through it until I found the small, bound notebook I was searching for.

  “I’ve got a basic sketch here. The rules are that you have to be able to fight, so it can’t be too tight, but it also can’t be too frilly. I know that plate mail won’t allow me to dance, but if you know of a tailor that might work with us, I’m sure that they could help with the logistics of how it could work with mail.”

  I knew I was babbling, but I needed to get it all out before he made up his mind. Without saying anything, he gestured for the book and I handed it to him.

  “I know it isn’t done in quite the latest style, but it’s flattering to my thick muscles in a way that I love, and allows me freedom of movement that I’ll need as part of the honor guard.”

  He studied it for several moments, tapping a callused finger on the paper in thought before clearing his throat.

  “I have a tailor friend not far from here. How about we take a wander over there and let them have a look and see if it’s possible?”

  This time I didn’t even try to hold back the squeal of joy. Jumping up from the stool, I nearly toppling over when one leg of my pants got caught on my other foot. Catching myself on the countertop, I flushed hotly in embarrassment.

  “Now, see, if you’d done that when you walked into my shop, I would’ve known exactly who you were,” Cormac laughed. I couldn’t help but laugh with him. He was right.

  He held out a hand to steady me as I got my wardrobe malfunction in order, then handed my sketchbook back to me.

  “Come along, lass. It’s a short walk from here. Let me close up and leave a note for Finn in case he comes back early, and we can walk over.”

  MX. POPPY OF ELISADE, TAILOR

  The sea breeze swirled into my shop through the dark green shutters, twisting the fabrics that dressed the mannequins before finding their way out the cut out windows of the arched doorway and back into the streets of Elisade.

  It was a nice way to alleviate the heat that came from the number of people moving around. The morning had been busy, thanks to the announcement of the impending ball. It would be the highlight of the spring season or I’d eat the jaunty cap that kept my long curls out of my face.

  Just as the shop began to clear out, something else came in through the window - a deep, booming voice that I recognized immediately.

  “Hullo! May we come in?”

  We? Crossing the room to look out the window, I was surprised to see that Cormac was accompanied by a well-dressed young woman who was nearly as tall as he was.

  I didn’t recognize her, but judging by her muscles, exquisite clothing, and gait, she had to be a knight. She stopped short in the doorway, her eyes wide as she looked around.

  My chest swelled a little bit with pride as I looked at it as she might. The shelves Cormac had helped me build last year reached the ceiling and were packed with bolts of fabric organized by color then by the type of fabric within that. Just the way it needed to be in order to find the perfect fabric to complement an outfit.

  “Welcome, welcome! I’m Poppy, the nonbinary proprietor here. Are you a friend of Cormac’s? It’s a pleasure to meet you!”

  I shook her hand and pressed a friendly kiss to Cormac’s cheek.

  “Thank you, Poppy! I’m Ser Genevieve of Teagan, and Cormac and I go a long ways back. Your shop is absolutely lovely,” Genevieve said. Her face was still full of wonder as she looked around.

  “Why thank you! I designed it myself. I had this shop built from the ground up to my specifications nearly a decade ago, and it has served me well ever since.”

  “Poppy was one of the first people I met here in the city when I left Teagan. Their work is beautiful and they have the best selection of fabrics in the city,” Cormac bragged.

  I tried not to blush. Failing that, I tried to distract them from it by pouting playfully at Cormac.

  “And yet he still won’t let me make him anything pretty!”

  Cormac started blushing as he waved a hand at me dismissively.

  “What use is pretty for a blacksmith? Everything I own has singe marks on it. There’s no use in my having pretty clothes. Besides, we aren’t here for me, Poppy.”

  “Of course you aren’t,” I sighed. Planting my hands on my hips, I turned back to the knight. “Ser Genevieve of Teagan, how may I assist you today?”

  The woman ducked her head shyly. Cormac nudged her, and she began digging through her leather satchel. I took advantage of the time to look more closely at her outfit. Whoever had created it had done it well. Nearly as well as I would have. I would have made sure it had deeper pockets, though.

  She produced a small leather-bound book that looked like a sketchbook. Without speaking, she opened it and handed it to me.

  I felt my jaw drop in shock as I looked over the sketch. A long-sleeved gown with what looked like a leather and chainmail bodice had been drawn, rather skillfully, on the page she showed me. Below the bodice, cloth and chainmail had been layered like the petals of a rose to create a skirt that would be beautiful and protective.

  “What on earth do you need a chainmail dress for?”

  That seemed to be the key to untying Genevieve’s tongue. She opened her mouth to speak, but I realized its purpose.

  “Wait, I know. You’re one of the honor guards for the Midwinter Ball, aren’t you?”

  She beamed at me.

  “Yes, and it’s such an honor since I was just knighted last fall! But, my mother was planning to have me meet a suitor, and I desperately don’t want to meet someone for the first time in plate mail. I love my knight work, but I just… I want to be pretty when I make my debut as a marriageable knight. Is that weird?”

  I laughed.

  “Not at all, sweetheart. Let me figure this out. I see why you brought Cormac along, though.” I turned my attention to him. “Do you think this is possible, old friend?”

  “I think it is, if we can find a fabric that is both to Ser Genevieve’s tastes and can hold up my lightest chainmail.”

  I ran my fingers over the sketch, thinking out loud.

  “What if we made the dress two separate pieces, connected by the chainmail around her middle, and… maybe a sheer fabric over the top here?”

  Cormac chewed the inside of his bottom lip in thought while his eyes followed my fingers on the sketch.

  Genevieve spoke up, and we both turned to look at her.

  “I would like it if it could accentuate my waist a little, like today’s gown does, if that’s possible. I worry that a sheer fabric for the top piece would make me look more like a shield than a shield maiden, if that makes sense?” Genevieve’s thin brows were furrowed, but I just waved at her.

  “Of course, of course. You want to accent your feminine charms, eh? We can do that. What about a mail corset piece, attached to pliable leather?”

  I could see from the light in Genevieve’s eyes that she liked that idea.

  “I think we have a winner,” Cormac laughed. “But what about the skirt? We want it to be heavy enough to defend her
, but also not take out her dance partner’s ankles at every turn.”

  I snapped my fingers at him, knowing exactly what I wanted. Gliding over to the rolling ladder that was attached to the shelves where the white, cream and tan fabrics were, I grinned at him. I climbed up nimbly, grateful again that Cormac had helped me install the shelves on each of the walls. It made it so much easier for me to get the fabrics from the top of the shelf.

  Looking at the shelf, I realized I needed more information to choose a fabric.

  “Genevieve, my girl, what are your house colors? I know that Teagan has a blue base, but I cannot remember the others.”

  “Cream, blue and black,” she listed automatically. “We don’t have to have our coat of arms on anything, though if we wanted to work a leaf pattern into it anywhere, that would be lovely.”

  “What kind of leaf?” I asked, tapping a finger on my chin while I glanced through the fabrics. There were a lot of different types, after all, and I needed to make sure that the fabric would hold the embroidery well if it were a more complex look.

  “Oh, oak, sorry.”

  A cool colored cream in a sturdy fabric, then.

  “Oak leaves will not be a problem, particularly with this color scheme. Perhaps Cormac could use some copper in the mail and use it as a motif?”

  “You are going to force me to get real creative, aren’t you?” Cormac grumbled.

  I grinned wolfishly at him.

  “You know that I always aim to make people challenge themselves. Why should you be any different, old man?”

  “You are two years older than me, Poppy,” Cormac reminded me with a roll of his eyes. “You don’t get to call me old.”

  “I do when you act like it! I don’t think anyone has ever accused me of being an old soul.”