“Need you help, my lady?” the shy man—Bryant, she thought—asked.
“No!” Elena said sharply and then more calmly, “No…thank you.”
Though the day was warm, Elena felt a sudden chill run down her spine. Trying to think of anything else, she turned her attention to what she would tell Margaret and Catherine.
“I am cursed!” she muttered as she realized that spending even one night away from the other women, in the company of three men, no less, would destroy her already fragile reputation. Frustrated that she had no answer to either of her plaguing questions, Elena distracted herself with complaining about the journey, delighting when the horrid man glared his displeasure at her.
Several hours later, Elena was too tired to complain anymore. She wearily dismounted with Bryant's help and made her way into the nearby bushes. When she returned minutes later, she found the men already mounted again and waiting to leave.
"You can not mean that is all the rest we get!"
"We have much distance to cover before nightfall. We can ill afford to waste the daylight while you idle the time away," said Gareth.
Elena glared at the man who had not said one polite word to her since she'd laid eyes on him. When they met up with Richard again...
"Perhaps we could at least let her stretch her legs, Gareth," Bryant ventured.
Gareth, Elena thought. She would remember that name to tell Richard.
"No. She's holding us up as it is. We continue until dusk."
Bryant looked at Elena apologetically as he helped her back on her horse, but Elena was too furious to notice. She clenched her teeth so hard her jaws began to hurt and she slapped the reins on her delicate palfrey.
***
"What be the reason the normally chivalrous Sir Gareth is treating the Lady Elena so?" Cynan asked Gareth as they made their way through the forest. “Is she not the one whose looks you were so taken with the other night in the great hall?"
"That was until she opened her mouth. That woman makes an adder seem a pleasant conversationalist."
"I don't know. She seems merely high spirited to me."
Gareth laughed harshly. Cynan studied the back of his friend's head while a thought began to take shape in his head.
"She'd make a winsome wife. But not for a blundering Englishman. She needs a Welshman to appreciate her spirit."
Gareth looked over his shoulder. "Lest my memory fails me, you already have a wife, Cynan. I'm sure Enid would not be particularly amused by such talk."
"I was not thinking for myself, you fool."
"I'd not have her if she were the last woman in all of Wales, England, or Scotland. Or Ireland, for that matter."
Cynan chomped down on his lower lip to keep from laughing. Baiting Gareth had always been his favorite pastime. "Aren't you the conceited ass today," he remarked. "I was not thinking of you, either. I think Bryant has taken a fancy to her."
Gareth glared at Bryant who was walking several paces ahead of them, leading Elena's horse. Cynan saw Gareth’s eyes narrow and his hands clench convulsively on the reins.
"Don't you dare put such thoughts into his head, Cynan. That woman would make his life miserable and I'd sooner see him dead than married to her."
Cynan shook his head and smiled. Enid would be proud of him, he thought. She was a master at reading people's hidden emotions and he looked forward to telling her of Gareth's reaction to the haughty English lady.
***
By the time they did stop in the shadow of a monolithic boulder, it was dusk and Elena was weaving in the saddle from exhaustion. As Cynan and Bryant immediately began gathering wood for a fire and pulled out food for dinner, Gareth helped Elena down from her horse. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she felt her knees buckle. Gareth caught her by the waist and held her until she steadied herself, trying to ignore the way her body felt pressed against him, concentrating instead on the texture of the fine linen of her dress under his fingers. He could not keep the fresh, sun-warmed scent of her hair out of his nose, however, nor could he ignore the way her breath tickled his left ear.
He could tell when her head stopped spinning, when she realized she was pressed against him, his hands on her waist, her head on his shoulder. She quickly raised her head and her weary eyes glared imperatively at him.
"Take your hands off of me," she said as she pushed him away. Gareth immediately let her go and she had to clutch at her horse's mane to keep from falling.
As he stalked to his horse and began unsaddling it, he was disgusted with himself for his body's reaction to Elena's nearness. His hands still tingled from holding her, his chest could still feel her soft form pressed against it. He pulled Isrid's saddle off and began rubbing the powerful horse down. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Elena still standing, clinging to her horse's mane.
More sharply than he intended, he said, "Unbuckle that saddle and groom your horse."
Elena jumped and opened her eyes. She glared at him before turning and fumbling with the straps which held the saddle on. Several minutes later, she had only managed to undo one buckle and was leaning wearily against her patient horse when Gareth approached.
"Watch carefully. Next time you do this yourself."
Elena clenched her teeth in anger, but said nothing, watching as he deftly undid the straps and slid the saddle off the horse. He walked back to his horse and picked up the rag he had used. Returning, he handed it to Elena. "Rub her down well so she'll not catch a chill."
When Elena just stared at the rag, he took her hand roughly and showed her what to do. She rubbed her horse until her arms ached and Gareth said, "Now wipe your saddle down and then you may go wash up at the stream. ‘Tis through those trees over there."
As Elena stumbled to the stream, Bryant and Cynan exchanged surprised glances. Never had Gareth treated a lady so. He took every part of his knight's oath seriously and chivalry towards the fairer sex he had, until this lady, meticulously obeyed.
When Elena returned, Gareth handed her a bowl of watery soup. Elena stared at the contents of the bowl and said, "Might it be to much to ask what this substance is floating in the gruel?"
"Say, there's nothing floating in mine," Cynan complained.
Ignoring Cynan's attempts to lighten the mood, Gareth started to answer Elena, but Bryant broke in, "'Tis the meat you ate earlier today, my lady. When we boil it up with some barley, it gets a little more palatable."
Elena took a sip. "There is nothing on this earth that could make this 'meat' taste better. Could not one of you hunt a rabbit or some venison? 'Tis not as if we hadn't been in the forest all day, and since it's clear I'll be sleeping on the ground again tonight, is it too much to ask for a decent meal?" she finished imperiously.
Taking one look at the wrathful expression on Gareth's face, Cynan and Bryant hastily swallowed the last of their soup and quickly escaped to the stream.
"You are lucky to have a blanket to lay on the ground. Is it too much to ask that you might be grateful to have anything to eat at all?"
"Perhaps the serving wenches you are used to are content with your miserable hospitality, but ladies of rank expect more consideration from those who serve them."
"Serve them? If you think we are your servants, you are sadly mistaken. Tell me, is it customary for future countesses to belittle everyone and everything. Would you be more gracious if you were wedding Edgeford rather than Brackley come Michaelmas? On second thought, I met Edgeford. He seemed entirely too pleasant to meet your demanding expectations. 'Tis just as well you're marrying Earl Brackley. However, I must warn you to watch your temper around him. I understand his treatment of his wives makes them grateful for the smallest scrap of warmth and comfort. Why--" Gareth stopped at the look of terror on Elena's face. She stared at him, her warm brown eyes open wide with fright, something Gareth never expected to see in the gaze of someone as dictatorial as Lady Elena. The bowl of soup tumbled from her grasp unnoticed.
Despite her earlier whinin
g and complaining, Gareth was instantly contrite. No woman who knew of Brackley's treatment of his wives-and what woman in England did not?--could possibly look forward to marriage to him, despite his immense wealth and power.
"My lady, you must not pay attention to me when I get angry. I say foolish, meaningless things. I--"
"How did you know of Lord Edgeford?" she asked in a much-subdued voice.
Gareth was caught off guard by her question. "What?"
"None but a few of my friends knew I wished to wed Edgeford."
"We danced the night your betrothal was announced. I saw how you chose our places in line so that when we traded partners, you would be with him."
"We danced?"
"Aye, my lady. The Gavotte."
Elena nodded. She remembered the dance, but not her partner.
Rising, Gareth handed her his bowl of soup. "I am accustomed to not eating. You'd best take this. You will need your strength tomorrow as the woods will be thicker. There are no trails for horses and we may be walking most of the day."
Recognizing her expression as one of a battle-shocked novice soldier, Gareth knew that Elena did not even taste the bland broth, but she finished every drop and obediently curled up on her blanket when he said, "Get as much sleep as you can. We'll be leaving at sun up."
He watched her for a long while, long after Cynan and Bryant fell asleep. Although the summer evening was warm, he knew when Elena started shivering, knew its cause, and knew he could do nothing to alleviate it.
He couldn't help but feel sorry for her. No woman deserved the treatment she would receive at the hands of Brackley. His own cousin had suffered beatings for three years before her husband died of a fever. Gareth remembered at the man's funeral, when he found out about the beatings. Gwenllian had not shed a single tear for her husband and when Gareth called her to task for not mourning, she flew into a rage, describing the times he had hit her for no reason at all.
Gareth felt the anger growing inside him as he thought of his cousin's husband, but he now transferred that anger to Brackley. Though he was tired, he lay awake for several hours after Cynan and Bryant dozed off, planning a horrible and fitting death for the vicious earl.
Chapter 6
The hideous knight, Gareth, awoke late the next morning. Elena was up and trying to warm her cold muscles by hopping from foot to foot. He stretched before rising and gave her a smile. But if Gareth seemed friendlier to her after their talk of the night before, she was angrier. Mad at herself for letting this boor know that she was frightened of her impending marriage, she stared at him coldly and turned away. She attempted to smooth her hair into some semblance of order, though she didn't know why she should worry how she looked in front of these three, especially Sir Gareth.
Gareth's smile faded as he observed Elena's glare and she felt a moment of satisfaction as he rose and helped Cynan and Bryant pack up their few things. She would teach him to speculate on her personal life. For the next two days, she complained about the heat, the dust, the bugs, the quality of the food (still dried beef), the shortness of their breaks, and finally, Gareth's horse.
"Would you kindly get your horse out of my face?" she asked when they were stopped for lunch the next day beside a stream. Isrid had taken a fondness to Elena and was nuzzling her neck as she sat on a fallen log. Cynan who had been drinking water from the stream choked on what was either a laugh or a swallowed rock.
"Are you suddenly unable to walk?" Gareth asked.
When she stared, uncomprehending, he snapped, "If you like it not you can move."
Elena shot her meanest look at Gareth before leveling it on his horse. Isrid proved as oblivious to it as his master and began nibbling on her long braid. "Stop that!" she shouted.
"Here my lady, I'll get rid of him for you," said Bryant as he grabbed Isrid's halter. "Come on, you."
"My thanks," said Elena. She was not about to have Gareth lecture her again on manners.
Cynan leaned toward her. "You will be happy to know, my lady, that you shall sleep under a roof tonight. We'll be staying with distant kin of Bryant. Although," he leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner, but spoke loudly enough for Bryant to hear him, "although I hear they're hoping he won't be too distant much longer. Seems they've a lass who has set her cap for Bryant. The fool just won't settle down."
Elena stared at Cynan. What did she care of the marrying tendencies of the Welsh? But glancing at Bryant, who was turning five shades of red, she forbore from saying so. Bryant had at least treated her with some measure of respect and consideration for her station.
"Are you married?" she asked Cynan, amazed that she was reduced to making small talk with a man-at-arms.
"Is he ever!" Bryant burst out, clearly thankful that Elena had nipped Cynan's gossiping in the bud. "I believe he's anxious to get me married so he won't be the only one who has to answer for his whereabouts."
"Enid worries a might too much," Cynan explained.
"Either that or she knows you well enough not to trust you!" Gareth said with a laugh. "How many skirts did you chase in your first year of marriage?"
"Leave it to you to forget that 'tis not the chasing, 'tis the catching and I haven't caught a single skirt since Enid and I were wed."
Elena was amazed at the men's crudity. Truly, few men she knew were bound by oaths of fidelity to their wives. In fact, the higher a man's rank, the more permissible it was for him to have mistresses. Still, Elena had never had to listen to discussions of such behavior.
Turning back to Elena, Cynan said, "Bryant and I have a wager as to when Gareth will wed. Bryant says 'twill be within two years, but I have high hopes that he'll hold out for at least ten." When Elena turned to glance at Gareth, Cynan asked, "Would you care to place a wager, Lady Elena?"
Elena sniffed. "I wager he never marries."
"The bachelor life for you, she's declaring, Gareth. Be he too handsome to stay with one women you think?"
"No, I simply don't think any woman would be able to put up with him for more than a fortnight."
Cynan and Bryant laughed and slapped their friend on the back.
"Seems she's just met you and she already knows you better than both of us," Cynan said.
"More like she's well versed in being difficult, herself," Gareth said, stung as he stalked off into the woods.
In spite of herself, Elena joined in Cynan and Bryant's laughter.
***
As they traveled that afternoon, Elena noticed that they were steadily climbing a gentle incline. The trees soared overhead, meeting in a canopy of pine needles overhead, filtering the light to a cool green. The layers of pine needles on the forest floor muffled the horses’ hooves and absorbed any quiet comments the men made. Elena found herself actively listening to the chatter of squirrels, and the song of birds for the first time in her life. She felt an odd sense of peace that had nothing to do with fine clothes or good food or hot, scented baths. The anger she had forced herself to maintain over the past two days slowly dissipated and Elena actually found herself enjoying her strange adventure.
They arrived at the small village that was their destination just as the sun dipped below the horizon in a brilliant splash of gold and orange. Although Elena was tired, the beauty of the sunset and the warm glow it cast over the small village only added to her sense of peace. She found herself looking forward to a real bed with an appreciation she had never before felt.
To call the village small was being generous. Elena glanced at the four stone houses that were gilded by the setting sun, becoming for a fleeting moment, as grand looking as a stone fortress or royal palace. Small children scampered in and out of the open doors, startling wandering chickens. Two women returned from the stream, carrying a heavy basket full of wet clothes between them.
Smoke drifted lazily up from two of the houses' chimneys, carrying the smell of roasting meat to the weary travelers. Elena's mouth watered at the scent and her stomach rumbled appreciatively. Taking a deep breat
h, she felt the peaceful quiet of the evening soak into her very bones.
"I never knew England could be so beautiful," she murmured, not intending for anyone to hear her.
"That's because you're not in England. You're in Wales," said Gareth who was walking, leading her horse.
"What? Wales? But I though you were going to take me back to King Richard?" she cried.
"I never said that. I said I would get you to safety. We did not come within a day's traveling distance of one of the border lord's keeps, so I will have to leave you at the first abbey we come across until word can be sent to Richard and he can send someone to fetch you."
"That is simply not acceptable! I can't just sit in some Welsh abbey braiding my hair while I wait for an escort to Nottingham."
"Then perhaps you should assist the sisters in their charitable works to make the time pass more quickly."
"Why can't you escort me to Nottingham?"
"Because I go to see my father in Gwynedd," Gareth said tightly.
"You mean you're deserting the king?"
"I have no set duties with Richard. My father I have not seen in two years."
They stopped in front of the farthest of the small houses. As Cynan and Bryant dismounted, the door burst open and a short burly man came out, quickly followed by what looked to Elena like at least a dozen children. The burly man gave Bryant a quick hug before releasing him to the children who climbed all over Bryant, laughing and shouting. While his arms were burdened with three toddlers, a dark-haired young woman who looked to be about sixteen took advantage of his position and bestowed a wet kiss on the corner of his mouth.
"The would-be fiancée," Cynan explained in Elena's ear as he helped her down from her horse.
"Ah," said Elena, trying unsuccessfully to smother a smile.
They were ushered inside by the man, who introduced himself as Gruffydd, and his wife Catrin, a short plump woman with crinkly laugh lines around her eyes and mouth. Upon Catrin's instruction, Bryant's love-struck cousin Marared took Elena into the other room of the small house where she was finally able to take off her travel-stained gown and bathe.
A Dishonorable Knight Page 5