I pinned up my blonde hair and hiked up my skirt, preparing for another long, day working the fields of the Ellwood Manor. I grabbed the pale and headed out the barn to milk the cow and tend to the horses. Surprisingly, the cows didn’t fuss or kick while I milked them, which made the milking go by faster. I took the milk to the younger girls to churn into butter and to make cheese with. Then, back in the barn, I brushed and fed the horses. There was a new horse there that I didn’t recognize. Whether or not I was to brush and groom this horse, I didn’t know, but since it was in the stable I figured I was supposed to.

“Hello love,” I said to the horse as I put food in its trough and started to groom it, “You have a very beautiful coat you know,” I patted the horse. The horse did, it was white, white gray speckles all over, and he was a very strong horse as well.

“Excuse me fair maiden, but you see, that horse you are grooming there is mine, and I have to go to watch now,” the tall, handsome knight said, “I am surprised that Apollo here is allowing you to groom him. He’s very stubborn and hard to control, you see, the only people who he will let touch him is me, and apparently you now.”

“Are you new to the Ellwood Manor, for I don’t recognize you or your horses,” I replied, “Noblemen, I rarely see, but the horses, I know them all.”

“Oh, I see. Where is the stable hand?” the man asked.

“Well, my brother is the stable hand, but he has fallen ill, so for today, I am,” I said, “Hopefully soon, he can be back to work.”

“Oh, well I will not have a maiden as fair as you saddle my horse. I shall do it myself,” he said.

“It is not a problem kind gentlemen, serving is what I was born to do,” I replied.

“No, no, and you mustn’t think like that, God has a bigger plan for you than being here,” the man told me.

“I’m afraid you are mistaken sir, for I was born to two peasant people, which makes me nothing more than a peasant and that cannot change,” I replied.

“What is your name?” he asked.

“Rosie,” I replied.

“Rosie, I was born a peasant as well, now look at me, I’m a knight. My title is Sir Rowan, I’m 18 years old, and now I live in a house which is big enough for a family I will hopefully have one day. You have to believe that you will get out of your current status and into a higher one,” Sir Rowan stated.

“Why make myself hope and dream when I can face my reality, that I will not be leaving this manor and I should be content with what my lord provides me?” I asked.

“Why do you speak your mind to me? Are you not afraid that you could be killed for speaking to a high class like such?” he asked.

“I am well aware that you could draw your sword right now and chop my head off for speaking in such a tone to you, but I know you won’t and I know the lord won’t,” I stated bluntly.

Sir Rowan drew his sword and stuck it under my chin and asked, “Does this not frighten you in the least?”

“Why fear death? If there is a God and an afterlife, I will sit at the foot of him and confess my sins and be allowed to spend eternity in his presence. Is there anything better?” I asked.

He pulled his sword away from my throat and said, “One day when you are married, your husband will strike you because of your tongue. Tell me when that day comes, I may mock you at first, but then I will slash his throat.”

“I would hope not,” I said, “To be struck at or to be widowed.”

“Well, if you marry a kind man like myself, that won’t happen,” he said getting on his horse and riding off into the fields of the manor.

I felt my face turn hot, “Was that a proposal or just a statement?” I thought to myself, then continued my work, thinking about was Sir Rowan said for the rest of the day.