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“Of course I mean Imanie’s garden. Do you know another secret garden? Now, go. Tell them this is important and to come alone. I need to talk to them anon.”
“All right,” said Morag, stopping in her tracks.
Maira called over her shoulder. “And whatever you do, don’t bring Branton along.” The page that longed to be a squire was starting to be just as troublesome as Morag lately. He already knew too many of the girls’ secrets. Maira decided that even though she liked to spar with him, she should start to distance herself from him if possible.
She made her way to the stable and mounted her horse, making her way to the secret garden. Chosen by the late Queen Philippa, Maira, as well as her cousins, Willow and Fia, were members of a secret group of strong women called the Followers of the Secret Heart. Morag had meddled her way into the group as a member before their old mentor, Imanie, dropped dead from a bad heart.
Maira wore her crown today since she and her cousins were allowed to wear the late queen’s jeweled crowns during important celebrations and gatherings. Maira’s headpiece was a thin gold band loaded down with sparkling rubies and yellow amber stones. Fia had the bulkiest crown, and Willow’s was a good size as well. But Maira liked hers because it was thinner and lighter and wouldn’t weigh her down if she had to protect herself and use her sword to fight.
With her sword strapped to her back and her daggers at her side, Maira rode quickly through the woods to the edge of the earl’s land. The secret garden was found where his land and the king’s lands met. Within it was a little cottage made from wattle and daub where their mentor, Imanie, used to live.
As soon as Maira approached the half-hidden gate, she swung her legs over the side of her steed and dismounted. Quickly scanning her surroundings, she checked to make sure she hadn’t been followed. Since this garden was in the royal forest, no one dared to bother it. And for the most part, it was safe.
Maira pushed open the gate and led her horse inside. On the far side of the enclosed space was Imanie’s cottage as well as a single covered stable that had, at one time, housed her horse. On the other side of the house was a shed that held gardening tools of all kinds. When she had first seen this garden, it had looked like the abode of a fairy. It seemed so magical and was well kept. It had beautiful blooming flowers and a variety of healthy vegetables. But since Imanie’s death, the girls had not tended to the grounds like they probably should have. It was only recently that Willow and her husband’s sister, Hazel, had started caring for the garden again.
She tied her horse to a tree and headed toward the house. The weeds were nearly as tall as her. It was like walking through the forest once again. Maira wasn’t as tall as Willow or Fia, but she made up for it in strength and determination. Each of the girls had a special skill and was mentored by Imanie to use their talents wisely. It was the purpose of this group to make important changes but also, in the process, to make men think those choices or happenings were because of them. After all, women were not respected nor were they allowed to have choices. Her father proved that by making her agree to live with a man who she had no intention of marrying.
“I don’t want to go,” she said, kicking at a stone. The whinny of a horse caught her attention and she stopped in her tracks. The sound didn’t come from the gate, so she knew it wasn’t her cousins. Nay, this noise came from inside the stable.
In one motion, she drew the sword from her back and held it steady with two hands, letting the tip of the blade lead her way to the stable.
“Who goes there?” she called out, ready to fight if need be.
As she approached, a man stepped out into the clearing holding out a sword aimed toward her as well. He was tall and wore a cloak over a dark green tunic and brown breeches. His hood was up and his face remained hidden in shadow.
“Put down the sword before you’re hurt,” directed the man in a low voice.
“Who are you?” she asked curiously and cautiously. “And what are you doing here?” She gripped the hilt of her sword tighter.
Her eyes settled on a burlap bag flung over the man’s shoulder. Sticking out of the top of the bag she noticed what looked like the iron poker from the hearth from Imanie’s cottage.
“I’m just passing through, so there’s no need for alarm,” he told her. “Now turn around and get on your horse and forget you ever saw me.”
“Forget I ever saw you?” she asked, wondering if this man thought she was a fool. “Nay, I will do naught of the sort. You’re stealing!” she spat. “You are a thief, and I am not about to turn away and let you leave here with things that don’t belong to you.”
“And what are you going to do about it?” he asked with a chuckle. “Fight me with that mighty sword? I’m surprised you can even hold the bloody thing.”
“Then you’ll be surprised by this as well.” Maira lunged forward, swiping her sword at the man.
Startled, he stepped back quickly. The tip of his sword lowered in the process. From his sudden motion, the bag fell from his shoulder. Imanie’s possessions spilled out over the ground. “Your blade ripped my tunic,” the man said in shock. His hand fingered the cloth over his chest.
“Put down your sword and get on your horse and ride away,” she repeated his warning back to him. “Do it, or the next move I make will be my blade ripping through your flesh instead.”
“Egads, what’s the matter with you, wench?” growled the man. “Don’t you know I could kill you right where you stand before you even have a chance to strike again?”
“We’ll see about that!” She shot forward and her sword clashed with his. When he moved, the hood fell from his head, enabling her to see his handsome face. He had sun-kissed golden skin. That told her he lived in the elements, or spent a goodly amount of time outdoors. And by the simple clothes he wore that blended in with the earth, she realized he must be a peasant. However, his fighting skills were as strong as those of a nobleman. Plus, he owned a sword. This made her very confused.
“I highly doubt a common thief could best me where my fighting skills are concerned,” she told him. “I have learned from the best.” She lunged forward and he parried.
“I must admit, I’ve never seen the likes of this,” said the man. “Tell me, how does a wench know how to handle a weapon? Or for that matter, how does such a little thing like you even hold up a heavy sword at all?” His sudden interest in her felt good. She liked to be noticed for her strengths instead of scoffed at because of them. Especially from a man.
“Not that I need to tell you anything, but my sword is lightweight and is made especially for a lady,” she bragged, continuing to spar with the man, “And I’m not a wench! I am Lady Maira Douglas,” she answered proudly. “My father is the legendary Rowen the Restless. I’m sure you’ve heard of him.”
“The pirate?” The man’s brows arched. “Ah, that is why you can fight like a cutthroat.”
“My father is no longer a pirate, and I don’t fight like a cutthroat!” She didn’t like this man’s assumptions. It only angered her more than she already was. In one motion, she shot forward with her sword leading the way. But once again, the man agilely stepped aside. He was quick on his feet. Maira almost fell trying to stop abruptly. She spun around to see the stranger smiling as if he were amused.
“If I’m not mistaken, your father is a bastard of the late King Edward,” he said.
