Knight had Caitlyn’s address from her posting on the Barony of Hawkwood’s website. There were a couple of Caitlyns (Catlin, Caitlin, Kaitlyn), but none of them were paired with a lord.
The way the SCA worked, is that a man became a lord before they became a knight. Being a knight accorded the prefix of “Sir” and was considered one of the most important titles someone could have in the Society. Oftentimes a Lord or Lady before a person’s name was because they were nominated by “the populace” or the titles were given as tokens by the monarchs.
Knight had never been accorded a true knightly status, as he had never been in one place long enough for the populace or monarchs to get to know him. He never had a “sir” before his name, but he was given the title of a lord a couple of times due to either helping out in times of need or his prowess at fighting that particular day. Alas, he never had a scroll, proof of his lordship, and he never told anyone of those titles in other kingdoms that he happened to visit. Some in the SCA didn’t like his chosen name of Knight, but that’s what was on his membership card.
Lord Raynard Brooke (aka Raymond Waters) and Lady Caitlyn O’Byrne (Julie Masterson) lived in Hawkwood, in Jackson County, in North Carolina. They had a daughter, Rose, of no last name – yet. Knight headed south from Millennium City.
He rode Kitty at a leisurely pace on Sunday afternoon, expecting to get about half way there. According to his GPS, he would get there in nine hours. He didn’t know if Caitlyn – no, Julie – would be working on Monday, or what would happen when he got there. Would he do what he did in Texas, and take the long way home if things didn’t go his way?
As he rode, he tried to decide what exactly he wanted, and how he could put it into words. Malcolm would have been so much more better at this kind of diplomacy, he thought. He should have brought him with him. This wasn’t the first time he had thought of this; and he shook his head as he did the other times he thought of it. He needed to take care of this himself. He needed to prove to himself that he could be responsible–
A silver Corvette going sixty cut him off. Knight swerved, and luckily there was no cars in the right-hand lane. Knight bared his teeth at the Corvette, who put on his brakes and slowed down. “Motherfucker,” Knight hissed, as the Corvette slowed to fifty, then forty on the highway. Knight went into the left-hand lane. The Corvette swerved into the lane, cutting him off again. Knight could hear the thumping of bass music coming from the Corvette.
Knight backed off, slowing down, and the Corvette followed suit. Knight moved over into the right-hand lane, out of the way of other cars. As they slowed, he noticed coming up behind him was a semi, going at a pretty good clip. Knight watched in the rear-view mirror as the semi was barreling toward them, moving from the right-hand lane to the left hand lane. Knight switched lanes. The Corvette followed. The semi blared his horn and Knight swerved back into the right hand lane, so far that he went into the shoulder.
The Corvette had two options – put on speed or get hit by the truck. He did the former, and the scream of the Corvette’s engines mingled with the blaring of the horn. Knight stayed in the shoulder, watching the two negotiate their way along the highway. They went past the exit and kept on going.
Knight thought it would be a good time to take a rest, so he got off at the exit.
He was about ten miles north of Dayton, and found a motel that wasn’t too cheesy, yet wasn’t that expensive, either. He called Mal to let him know he was all right, leaving a message on his voice mail. Then he went to the bar next door.