Timeless Tales of Honor

by Suzan Tisdale

  She gazed at him, her mood instantly moving from frustration to one of uncertainty. "You.... you would dance with another?"

  He smiled, moving to take her hand. He kissed it softly before placing it on his arm. "Perish the thought, kitten. Unless, of course, you refuse me."

  She gripped his arm tightly, her eyes bright. As much as she was concerned for her brother's feelings, there were few things in life that took precedence over the young man's emotions. And Richmond was one of them.

  "I would never refuse you,” she whispered.

  In spite of the fact that Richmond hadn't danced in years, he was a marvelous dancer. He held his own quite nicely through two folkdances and one slow ballad until Arissa had to sit down because she was beginning to breathe laboriously. He brought her a chalice of cider, fending off two would-be dance partners who were unfortunate to venture too close.

  Arissa watched Richmond with sparkling eyes as he intimidated the young noblemen, giggling into her goblet when they scattered like frightened chickens. He never had to utter more than a word or two, and his menacing glare usually precluded even that. One look from Richmond le Bec was enough to send the fear of God into the heartiest of men.

  "Why are you laughing?" he had knelt beside her chair, his amused gaze upon her.

  She fought off a broad grin. "Because you are so entirely nasty. They simply wished to dance with me, Richmond, not propose marriage."

  He looked away, his eyes roving across the moving dance floor. "They shall not touch you. No man will, ever."

  Her grin broke through the restraint, warm and tender. "Except you."

  He slanted her a gaze. "I am the only man worthy of you."

  She couldn't take her eyes off him. "I do love you, Richmond," she whispered.

  His gaze turned smoky and deep. "And I love you, kitten."

  A pretty flush mottled her cheeks as she tore her eyes away from him, draining the contents of her chalice. Richmond allowed his gaze to linger on her a moment longer, moving his attention to the crowd of dancers as one ballad stopped and another immediately commenced. It was a slow, lovely song and he rose to his feet, intent on taking Arissa in his arms once more until he was stopped dead in his tracks.

  "Murderer!" came a harrowing cry.

  The room slowed, voices hushed as all eyes turned towards the source of the accusation. Richmond had been in the process of helping Arissa to her feet when the shout was heard; still clutching her hand, he turned in the direction of the howl.

  Ovid de Rydal stood in the massive archway leading into the gallery, his fat face coated with perspiration and grief. Richmond did not think it strange that he seemed focused on him until Ovid began to stumble in his direction.

  "Murderer!" he croaked again, pointing a meaty finger at Richmond. "You have all but killed my boy!"

  Richmond stiffened as an odd silence settled over the gallery. The music, the dancers, had come to a halt as Ovid de Rydal ranted and swayed like a madman, and the object of his accusation was apparently none other than the mighty Richmond le Bec. Arissa watched, shocked, as Ovid came to an unsteady halt a few feet away from Richmond.

  "You did this!" Ovid hissed, a wild gleam to his eye. "You killed him, you bastard. I demand justice!"

  "You will do me the courtesy of telling me what has occurred before you proceed with your wild allegations," Richmond's voice was characteristically controlled. "I do not appreciate public slander."

  Ovid swallowed hard, licking his dry lips. Tucked into his wide, gold-link belt was a slip of crimson; he pulled it free, waving it in Richmond's face. "This is your crest, is it not? Henry's standard!"

  Richmond eyed the man before reaching out a deliberate hand to retrieve the material from Ovid's grasp. After a moment of scrutiny, he nodded. "It is."

  The tension in the room thickened. On the dais, William was on his feet and Maude watched, terrified, as de Rydal soldiers suddenly appeared in the doorway leading from the foyer.

  "Ovid, remove your soldiers immediately," William boomed, leaping from the dais as fast as his rotund body could move. "How dare you bring arms into my home!"

  Ovid was quivering violently, unresponsive to his host as his eyes remained riveted to Richmond. William moved to stand beside Richmond, his fair face threatening. "Do you hear me? Remove your soldiers before I unleash my personal guard!"

  As if on cue, several dozen soldiers appeared on the lofts overlooking the grand gallery, armed to the teeth with crossbows and long-range spears. As Ovid tore his gaze away long enough to look upward, Gavan emerged from the kitchen doors, leading an entire company of Richmond's soldiers. But he refrained from positioning them, waiting for Richmond's signal.

  Tension was joined by fear. There were as many soldiers as guests in the gallery and the noblemen began to shield the wives and daughters instinctively. On the dais, Daniel and Carlton had herded the ladies into a small, frightened huddle in anticipation of the unfolding events.

  It did not take Ovid an over amount of intelligence or time to deduce that he had, mayhap, acted rashly. But his grief was consuming him, driving him daft with unchecked emotion. Emotion that devoured his common sense as he faced off against Richmond and William.

  "I came for le Bec," his voice was shaky, thin. "Give him to me and I shall be happy to remove my men-at-arms."

  "I am not going anywhere, as I am completely innocent of these outrageous charges you are so free in announcing," Richmond said steadily. "If your son has been assaulted, it was not my doing."

  "You are a liar!" Ovid crowed in grief, shaking a finger at Richmond. "My boy is dying because of your twisted sense of pride. You sent your men to ambush him in retaliation for his alleged action against you during the Stick and Ball game!"

  "That is nonsense," William snapped quietly. "Richmond le Bec is not a murderer. He’s a respected knight with an impeccable reputation."

  "He was hostile to Tad from the onset!" Ovid returned angrily, his voice cracking with emotion. "From the very moment my son set foot inside Lambourn, Richmond has declared a personal vendetta against him!"

  "Why would I do that?" Richmond asked calmly. "I do not even know your son. He, however, has proven to be ill-mannered and sly, which is why he was sent on his way. If he was ambushed, I had nothing to do with it."

  "Then explain your standard, le Bec!" Ovid thrust a thick finger at the tattered piece of fabric. "It was on the arrow that imbedded itself within my son's chest!"

  Richmond handed the fabric to William, who studied it closely. "I assure you, Lord de Rydal, that I had nothing to do with the attack on your son. I swear this to you."

  Ovid's expression began to loosen, far less furious and far more desperate. "He’s just a lad, a young lad with a glorious future ahead of him. Why would you do this?" Between Richmond and William, he caught sight of Arissa's astonished face and he suddenly focused on her. His accusations progressed to gain a portion of madness. "It's because of her, isn't it? My Tad graced her with his presence and charm and the both of you took offense to his attentions. You are both involved in this.... this plot!"

  "The only plot is the one you have managed to create within your own mind," William answered, his voice a growl. "You will clear out of here immediately, de Rydal. Consider yourself fortunate if I do not seek a measure of vengeance against you for ruining my daughter's birthday."

  Ovid's wild gaze moved between Richmond and William. He was so badly shaken that his gray-hued cheeks were visibly quivering. "The king will hear about this. Simply because le Bec is a royal favorite does not mean that he can get away with murder. There will be justice!"

  "If I understand correctly, Tad isn't dead yet," William reminded him. "Furthermore, Richmond has told you that he did not have a hand in this and you will do him the courtesy of believing his word."

  Ovid shook his head, taking a step back and nearly stumbling over his floor-length surcoat. He continued to weave unsteadily as he quit the room, his eyes locked on Richmond and William
. He moved like a man whose control had escaped him, a soul spiraling towards the depths of insanity.

  "I shall have my revenge," he said hoarsely, spittle dripping from his lips. "I am not daft, le Bec. You did this, as the evidence states. This is not over!"

  Richmond did not reply as Ovid staggered from the room, followed closely by his soldiers. Near the kitchens, Gavan emitted a piercing whistle and Richmond's troops immediately closed in to pursue the de Rydal group. The sounds of jingling mail and marching boots filled the gallery when the only sounds heard should have been those of music and laughter.

  Shaken, William did not even wait until Richmond's soldiers had cleared the room before he ordered the music to resume. Weakly, the orchestra struck up a lively tune that quickly escalated into a gay dance. 'Twould seem that the entire crowd of guests was eager to forget the fear that had filled the air not a few moments before, and several couples delved into the folkdance eagerly.

  Richmond was gradually aware that Arissa was clutching his hand so tightly that her nails had drawn blood. He passed a concerned glance at her as William turned to him.

  "Goddamn lunatic," he muttered, meeting Richmond's gaze. "I apologize for the public humiliation, Richmond."

  Richmond shook his head. "No need, William. But I am rather concerned that my standard appeared on the arrow that struck down Tad de Rydal. Under the circumstances, Lord de Rydal could only believe I was announcing my revenge for being ousted in the game this afternoon."

  "You professed your innocence and he should be intelligent enough to take you at your word," William scratched his head in a nervous gesture, glancing to the calming dais. "Well, now, Maude is upset. I should go calm my wife. Will you take care of my daughter, as you have done so ably for all these years?"

  Richmond looked down at Arissa, her face pale and fearful. He forced a brave smile. "I shall make a valiant attempt."

  William looked to his daughter, knowing that Richmond would be far better at calming her nerves than he would have been. Richmond had always been able to communicate with her, whereas he had never quite managed to make a strong connection.

  As the earl strolled across the room, loudly assuring guests that all was well and demanding they continue to enjoy themselves, Richmond pried Arissa's fingers from his bloodied hand.

  "Would you care to dance, kitten?" he asked gently.

  Her eyes were wide at him. "I.... I do not feel like dancing," a sob suddenly caught in her throat. "Oh, Richmond, he thinks you tried to murder Tad! Ovid has a huge army and...!"

  "And you think he would be foolish enough to declare war against his liege?" he smiled, attempting to alleviate her growing panic. "I had nothing to do with Tad's ambush, Riss. When Ovid calms, he will realize that I am a man of my word. If I were going to do away with the lad, I would have had ample opportunity while he was here at Lambourn. Why would I want until he was on the road?"

  She was struggling to control the threat of tears. "But he says..!"

  He grasped her delicate arms firmly. "He doesn't know what he’s saying. He’s grieved and not thinking clearly," releasing her fragile limbs, he snaked an arm about her slender shoulders. "Let us take a walk about the compound and clear your head. Mayhap we shall go up to the battlements and throw rocks at Ovid's soldiers as they are forcibly escorted from Lambourn."

  She couldn't smile at his attempted humor. "I do not want to go for a walk," she said softly. "I am exhausted, Richmond. I want to retire."

  He gazed at her pale face, feeling the familiar concern for her frail health. "Aren't you feeling well, kitten?"

  She shook her head. "Not really. I fear this eventful day has taxed my strength."

  "Of course," he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and moved through the crowd toward the head dais. Maude was leaning against her husband as Lady Livia fanned her furiously. William glanced up from his wife as his daughter and Richmond approached.

  "Your mother isn't feeling well, Arissa," he said. "She begs your forgiveness that she must leave your celebration early."

  "Arissa wishes to retire as well," Richmond answered for her. "This entire day has been rather draining."

  "My poor Riss," Maude said weakly. "I am so sorry, dear. I tried to make this a wonderful occasion for you."

  "You did, mother," Arissa assured her softly. "It was the most wonderful birthday I have ever had."

  Maude smiled faintly as Richmond collected Arissa against him and excused them both. He was unable to make it free of the gallery, however, before several well-wishers and hopeful young men blocked their exit with words of congratulations or praise for Arissa's striking beauty. Richmond was less than cordial as he fended off the throng.

  The foyer was relatively uncrowded, lit with several banks of expensive tallow candles dyed different colors. Arissa leaned against Richmond as they moved toward the stairs, feeling his strength flowing through her body to boost her sagging spirits. Ovid de Rydal's threat frightened her; he was an aggressive, greedy man and she was positive that he would return for Richmond somehow, demanding the man's heart on a platter.

  Richmond felt her grip on him tighten as they ascended the stairs. Several of Lambourn's household guard were assembled in the foyer and he silently motioned at the group. Stealthily breaking rank, two soldiers obediently followed.

  He led Arissa to her chamber, practically carrying her limp body the last stretch of the dimly-lit corridor. Opening the oaken door, he quietly ordered the two soldiers that had trailed them from the foyer to post guard outside her door. As the well-armed men took position, he entered the room and closed the heavy panel softly.

  Arissa still clung to him and he paused, wrapping his arms about her tightly and planting tender kisses on the top of her dark head. Against him, he could feel her body quivering.

  "My poor kitten," he whispered, his lips against her hair. "A most eventful birthday."

  She sighed heavily. "I almost wish my birthday had never happened," she said softly. "Other than your victory in the archery contest, the day has gone from bad to worse."

  "What about our.... encounter in your father's solar?" he looked down at her, raising his eyebrows inquisitively when she met his gaze. "Had you not been rude to Tad, I would have never followed you and we might not have had the chance to admit our feelings to one another. All events occur for a reason, Riss. We may not realize the greater significance at the time, but there is a purpose for everything that happens. Good or bad."

  He watched her as she gazed up at him, feeling his veins flush with a surge of desire. Yet before he could succumb to the thrill of their newly-found passion, he had a short task to complete. In fact, his errand was the reason for posting the guards outside Arissa's door; he did not want to leave her unprotected while he was away. But the longer he gazed at her pink lips and incredible eyes, the weaker his resistance.

  "I have a small errand to complete," he said hoarsely, reluctantly releasing her from his embrace. "I shall return as quickly as I can."

  "Where are you going?"

  He smiled faintly, moving for the door before his willpower dissolved completely. "Just a short task. I shall be right back."

  He did not answer her entirely, but she was frankly unaware of the evasive reply. All that mattered was that he was leaving and she missed him already. She watched him sadly as he opened the door.

  "Hurry?" she pleaded softly.

  He was in great danger of being further weakened by the lost expression on her face. Casting her a bold wink, he nodded. "I shall run. I promise."

  He closed the door behind him, leaving Arissa standing in the center of the room. She continued to stare at the closed door for several long moments, as if expecting him to magically reappear after completing his task in record time. After a few lengthy minutes, she realized that he was going to be gone longer than she had hoped.

  With a long sigh, she turned for the glowing hearth. Absently, she began to stoke the dying coals, pondering silly, insignificant though
ts. Ovid and Tad aside, it had been a most eventful day and she thanked God that He had been gracious enough to listen to the prayers of a foolish young girl. All she had ever wanted in this life had mercifully been granted.

  As the fire sparked and crackled, Arissa found herself wondering where she and Richmond were going to live after they were married. After all, he spent the majority of his time in London or at Lambourn and had no lands of his own that she was aware of. Be it in a cave or in a palace, she did not care where they lived. So long as they were together.

  And they would be, no matter what.

  * * *

  Richmond's task had been completed in short order. Retrieving a small parcel from his borrowed bower, he was in the process of making his way back to Arissa's chamber when Gavan suddenly appeared out of the shadows. Richmond saw the outline of the massive body before he ever saw a face, but he was unconcerned by the approaching silhouette. There was no man on earth as wide as Gavan Hage.

  "Why aren't you chasing the de Rydal tribe back to their hovel?" he asked as Gavan came into the light.

  The man shrugged. "There was no need. The earl's men are herding them back to Goring Hall like a band of unruly cattle. Moreover, I am quite interested to know what is going on. Care to elaborate?"

  Richmond braced his thick legs apart, folding his arms across his chest. "Believe me when I say that I am as puzzled as you are. It all started this morning when Tad de Rydal was quite assertive with Arissa. At one point, he became rude and aggressive and I was forced to subdue his attentions. I proceeded to beat him in the archery competition, for which he decided to deal me a lashing while we were playing Stick and Ball."

  Gavan indicated the cut above Richmond's eye. "Is that how you acquired your new beauty mark?"

  "Indeed," Richmond replied. "I thought he had broken my nose, too, but it seems to be all right. Mossy doesn't believe it to be broken, merely bruised."

  Gavan cocked an eyebrow ironically. "So Ovid presumes that you sent your men to ambush his crafty son in revenge for your injury?"