Wings of Fate

The Knight The hazy spring sunshine didn’t add any warmth to the cold churchyard yet the yellow primroses that sprung from the graveyard nodded their heads in delight as I walked up to the church door with my arm holding on tightly to my father’s arm. I felt happy but very nervous. My father turned around and smiled a reassuring smile “you look beautiful, I can’t believe how fast you’ve grown up”. He wore a rich ruby coloured surcoat, which showed off his noble heritage and gave him a look of a rich and wealthy aristocrat. He carried himself with pride. I looked down at my simple but elegant gown, a bliaut, so called from the Norman invasion. It was made from pale blue velvet. It was tight and hugging on the top, with a full skirt. The sleeves tight to the elbow became wide and flared so that they dragged on the floor, the fashion being to tie them but I had left them loose giving them an elegant quality. We approached the church as the choir started to sing. My senses were reeling as I took a deep breath and prepared for the wedding ceremony. It took a few minutes to adjust to the darkness inside the chapel and as my eyes focused I saw him waiting at the isle. I only had eyes for him as we marched down the isle to the altar. The blurred faces of the spectators sped by as we walked on to the altar. He looked extremely handsome standing next to his brother, his tabard heralded the king’s colours of white with a red cross. A lock of hair fell untidily across his forehead. He would soon be off with the king on the Crusade, which was about to leave within a week of us being wed.