Timeless Tales of Honor

by Suzan Tisdale

  She shook her head, her soft hands moving to grasp his massive glove. Smiling faintly, she pressed against him. "Now, Richmond. I shall take but a moment of your precious time. If you do not agree with my words, you may spank me all night."

  There was a decidedly erotic invitation in that statement but he ignored it, still focused on his anger. "After I remove you from this rabble, I shall be happy to speak with you."

  He made the attempt to pull her with him but she balked, digging her heels in. His jaw ticked at the show of insolence but she tried not to let the gesture intimidate her.

  "Please, my love," her voice was suddenly very soft, very seductive. "Allow me a moment to speak with you. Just a small, insignificant moment? Please?"

  God's Teeth, he could never refuse her. Somehow, he was always caving into her imperious commands disguised as prettily uttered requests. Releasing her from his grasp, he put his hands on his hips in a display of irritation. "What, then?"

  She smiled, pressing herself against him and winding her arms about his waist. Next to her, Emma was fighting off a grin as Gavan pretended to look the other way; they both knew Arissa would have her way in the end, regardless of Richmond's harsh stance.

  "They are preparing a feast to thank me for my kindness in defending them against you earlier today," she whispered, watching the blue eyes soften as she spoke. "Those five fish are all they have to sustain the seventeen of them, and still they are willing to share with me. I shall not refuse their kind tribute, Richmond. Even though they are dirt-poor, scraping the very dregs of society in their attempt to maintain a meager existence, they still know the true meaning of selflessness. That, my love, is worth all of the kings and knights and wealth this world has to offer and I am honored to be a part of it."

  He stared at her a moment before emitting a weary, heart-felt sigh. She continued to smile at him, watching his uncertain expression as he glanced to the wary cluster of children. It took him a moment to realize that during the course of their conversation, he had distracted the orphans from their fire and the fish were burning brightly with flames as he watched.

  With another sigh, this one of pure resignation, he realized he was about to give in to her request yet again. Watching the fish burn, however, he was suddenly aware of how to please Arissa without appearing weak in front of his men. God's Teeth, he was a fool for the woman.

  "Their tribute appears to have become a torch," he grumbled, touching her cheek; he simply couldn't help himself as she gazed up at him. His gaze lingered on the children a moment before turning away from Arissa. "You will tell them to sup with us since I have ruined their dinner. I shall wait for you on the other side of the thicket, so do not delay."

  Arissa smiled broadly, a beautiful smile that rendered him weak with love and adoration. "Of course, my love. I shall do it right away." Before he could move away completely, she reached out to gently grasp his massive hand. "Thank you, Richmond. You are an extremely generous man."

  He barely acknowledged her thanks as he moved into the foliage he had so recently crushed. "I am not generous; I am a fool," he muttered, listening to Gavan's snort of agreement.

  Hearing Gavan’s laughter reminded him of the second missive from Henry, the one whose contents he had been directed to deliver to Gavan in private. The man had to be made aware, the sooner the better, and Richmond's heart sank as he once again braced himself for the devastating duty.

  His gut churned as they reached the destriers, preparing to mount. God's Teeth, how he hated what he was about to do. Eyeing Gavan as the man moved to mount his horse, he wondered if his best friend would ever be able to forgive him.

  * * *

  Seventeen children around a campfire filled with hardened soldiers proved to be a surprising, wonderful source of entertainment. The children sang, danced, told stories and involved the men-at-arms in betting games. Two boys would wrestle as the men eagerly placed wages, adding to the festive atmosphere, while two of the girls would take bets on who could spit the farthest.

  Knowing well their liege's fondness for sports and betting, Richmond found himself coerced into placing wagers on the wrestling matches and was pleased when his chosen contender emerged the victor in the majority of the contests. In spite of any reservations about the skinny, dirty, happy children, Richmond was forced to agree that inviting them to dine with his men had been a wise decision.

  He relaxed against a rotted stump with Arissa in one hand and a tankard of bland ale in the other. All in all, a most delightful night appeared to have descended and he listened to the sounds of laughter and revelry with satisfaction. When a few of the soldiers broke out their lutes and began to play, Arissa and Emma found themselves swarmed with children demanding them to participate in a communal dance. With a delighted glance to Richmond, Arissa joined the children in the campfire frolics.

  Richmond observed her beautiful form with pleasure and would have been completely content to gaze at her all night had Gavan not moved up beside him, chewing loudly on a knuckle of mutton.

  "Most of those children are bigger than Arissa," he commented with a grin. "If you could harness their energy and focus the cumulative power, you would have a hell of a fighting company."

  Richmond's smile faded as he watched Arissa dance, listening to his friend prattle as if he did not have a care in the world. Certainly he could not, in good conscience, delay Gavan's message any longer. While Arissa and Emma and the rest of the soldiers were occupied was the perfect opportunity to relay the contents of the second missive, and he took a deep breath for courage as he set his pewter cup to the ground.

  "I have a need to speak with you, Gavan," he said as evenly as he could. "In private."

  Gavan swallowed his bite, tossing the stripped bone aside. "Certainly. Where shall we go?"

  Richmond rose to his feet. "Near the tents, I suppose, wherever there aren't a thousand wild children dancing about." The two knights moved toward the trees as Richmond struggled to keep his manner unhurried. Already, he was breaking out in a cold sweat in anticipation of Gavan's reaction as they meandered to the edge of the clearing, watching the festivities in the distance.

  Richmond turned to Gavan, knowing it would be easier if he simply spit out his purpose. The longer he delayed, the more painful it would be for the both of them and he found himself swallowing hard, twice, before he was able to find his voice.

  "Gavan," he began softly. "There is simply no easy way to broach this subject, so you will forgive me if I seem insensitive or careless in manner; certainly, I am neither of those things."

  Gavan's brow furrowed. Richmond almost seemed ill at ease and he smiled encouragingly, slapping his friend on the arm. "I am well aware of your unpolished characteristics. Come out with it, man, and say your peace."

  Richmond gazed into the brown eyes of the man he had known over half his life. He remembered a very young page by the name of Gavan Hage from a very old and powerful Saxon family, a big boy with a good deal of intelligence and grace. Even as he squired, being several years older than the young Hage lad, he remembered an eager boy more than willing to learn from those older and more experienced. He remembered requesting Gavan as his squire when he first became a knight, and how they worked together until Gavan was knighted eight years later.

  Gavan had been the best squire England had ever seen as far as Richmond was concerned. And he had been his best friend for seventeen years. Staring into Gavan’s trusting eyes, he struggled against his natural instinct to protect the man from pain both physical and spiritual.

  He sighed heavily. "A missive came today from London, Gavan."

  Gavan looked perplexed. "I know. I was there when you read it."

  Richmond shook his head. "Nay, not that missive. Another one," when Gavan scratched his head in confusion, Richmond sought to clarify the mystery. "There were two missives in the pouch, if you recall. The second one was meant for my eyes only."

  Gavan's confusion cleared and Richmond observed a glimmer of a
pprehension ignite in the depths of the rich brown eyes. He crossed his big arms.

  "What did it say?" he asked.

  Richmond swallowed, an unconscious gesture. He could tell by the countenance in Gavan's eyes that he already possessed an inkling of what was coming and Richmond struggled to soften the blow as best he could. But there was simply no delicate way to phrase the unmerciful truth.

  "It's Kathryn, Gavan,” he said softly. “She went into labor on the third of December and struggled to bring forth your son for three days. In spite of the best efforts of the physics, the child was unable to come forth. Your wife passed away on the sixth of December and your son died with her."

  Gavan stared at him as if he hadn't understood what he had been told. Richmond met his gaze as steadily as he could, attempting to anticipate his reaction and wondering if he would be able to control him in the midst of his agonized rage. But after several long, brutally painful moments, Gavan's only reaction was to swallow.

  "My Kathryn is dead?"

  "Aye."

  "My son is dead?"

  "Aye, Gavan. Your son, too."

  Gavan blinked as if digesting the information. "She died with the child still inside her?"

  Richmond nodded slowly and Gavan uncrossed his arms. Before Richmond could say anything further, words of comfort or sympathy or encouragement, Gavan abruptly turned for the trees and disappeared into the darkened bramble. Richmond watched him go with tears in his eyes.

  There was nothing left to say. Blinking back the moisture flooding his eyes, Richmond decided not to follow Gavan into the forest to allow the man to sort through his grief alone. As much as he wanted to offer what condolences he could, there were times when even well-meaning intrusions were unwanted. Gavan had lost his wife and child to a common enough occurrence and he alone would have to come to grips with his tragedy.

  Richmond's job as the Messenger of Death was complete and he took a deep breath to compose himself as he turned for the bonfires burning brightly into the cloudy night sky. Struggling to refocus his attention on something other than Gavan's shattering grief, he caught sight of Arissa as the great fire silhouetted her exquisite figure, watching as she danced a lively folkdance with a young boy in her arms. As she bounced and twirled gaily, his thoughts shifted from Gavan to Arissa.

  Hearing the echo of Mossy's warning in his head, Richmond couldn't escape the apprehension. Arissa had refused to use the pessaries and Richmond, naturally, had given in to her refusal. Watching her frolic about the bonfire, he cursed himself for being so weak-willed; clearly, he needed to be more firm where her health was concerned and he pledged at that moment that he would never again allow her to persuade him differently when her very life was at stake. If the same thing happened to Arissa that had happened to Kathryn, he knew for a fact he would not survive it. The mere thought made him sick.

  He continued to watch her as he approached, focused on her flowing hair and fabulous figure. Richmond was half-way to the campfire when a piercing howl filled the air. Loud and mournful and completely horrifying, he came to an unsteady halt, returning his attention to the direction from whence he had come. It took him little time to deduce that Gavan was expending his grief.

  The entire festive camp came to a grinding halt at the sound of the sorrowful groan. The harrowing cry echoed off the trees, filling the December sky with sounds of pain. Upon the heels of the first shout was another, and still another. In rapid succession, cries of pure agony filled the air until they slowly died away.

  As the bonfires died during the progression of the night, Gavan's grief maintained its searing intensity, hot enough to ignite a hundred bonfires. On his knees in the midst of the damp, moldering forest, he wondered if a man could survive the torrents of grief and sorrow that threatened to drown him. He wondered if there was a life after Kathryn. He wondered if he was at all interested in living it.

  * * *

  Arissa was sobbing when Richmond directed her into the tent he had pitched for them both. Gavan was still in the trees, dealing with his consuming grief and Richmond found himself comforting two very distraught young ladies. Since it was only natural that the women be concerned for Gavan's mental state, as he had taken to howling like a wolf, Richmond had taken it upon himself to inform them of Kathryn's demise. Sorrow-stricken, Arissa and Emma had sobbed into each other's arms before Richmond separated them, gently demanding they retire for the night.

  But it was a grief not easily forgotten. Although Arissa wept for the lovely woman with light brown hair and beautiful blue-green eyes, Emma wept for an entirely different reason; she had wished this misery upon Gavan with her shameless pursuit and wicked thoughts. How often had she prayed for Kathryn's non-existence, as if being rid of the woman would allow the reality of her dreams. As if the dashingly handsome knight would pay her any mind without the hindrance of his beautiful wife.

  She had brought his misery upon him, of that she was certain. Her stomach churned and her head swam to think that he would blame her for his wife's death, wishing her away with evil prayers. Surely, he would never love her now. Not when he realized what she had done.

  Emma continued to weep pitifully for the pain she had caused her dearest love even as Richmond gently directed her to her small tent. Practically forcing her down on the furs and tucking the covers about her, Emma could do naught to thank Richmond for his kindness. Her heart, her soul, her spirit, was lodged with the great man on his knees in the middle of the forest, vomiting emotions so strong they threatened to tear him apart.

  After settling Emma for the night, Richmond retired to his own tent to find Arissa still weeping with sorrow. Forcing her to drink a large cup of wine, he managed to calm her somewhat with a combination of tender manner and relaxing alcohol. Stripping off her garments as she stood unsteadily in the center of their tent, he swept her into the warm furs of their bed.

  Enfolded in Richmond's naked embrace, the wine filled Arissa's veins, making her sleepy and languid. Gradually forcing herself to come to terms with Gavan's pain, she was aware of her own repressed anguish. She and Richmond were spending their last night together for some time to come and she was distressed at the fact that she had been distracted with another's grief. Certainly, she was facing grief of her own.

  Brushing the stray hair from her face, she lifted her eyes to find blue eyes gazing at her. She smiled bravely. "So we arrive at Whitby come the morrow, do we? I do not think I am ready. I have more places to visit, more money to squander."

  He returned her smile, adding a weak chuckle as he kissed the tip of her nose. "We have already been overlong on this journey. Besides, I do not have any more money. You have wasted it all on currant buns and fancy trinkets."

  Her expression was indignant. "How dare you accuse me of devastating your financial resources. If that is the case, then I do believe I shall marry someone else. I shall not be saddled with a poor knight who cannot maintain my living habits."

  "Please, please," he shushed her softly, with humor. "I must take you to Whitby in order to secure enough time to regain my lost wealth. Mayhap a length of time spent with the nuns will cool your expensive habits."

  She cocked an eyebrow. "As I recall, the only habits I shall be wearing will be those made of coarse gray wool. Dreadful, really. Coarse wool always gives me a rash on my bum."

  They giggled together for a moment as he stroked her face, her hair, memorizing every feature to sustain him in the days and weeks they would be separated. He struggled to suppress the anguish that threatened to burst like an over-filled dam, knowing that once the tide burst forth there would be no stopping his agony. Although Gavan's grief was no less important, he found himself focused on his own sorrow at the moment. The longer he gazed into her eyes, the harder it was for him to maintain his composure. God's Teeth, it was killing him already.

  "The rash will fade against the silk of your wedding surcoat," his humor faded as he cupped her beautiful face in his great hands. "I saw a wedding surcoat of
ivory silk, once. It was the most beautiful surcoat I had ever seen. I do believe I shall commission one made for you while I am in London."

  "Ivory silk is terribly expensive," Arissa returned softly. "You said not a moment ago that your coffers were drained."

  "Then I shall steal the money," his hands began to quiver as he kissed her tenderly, savoring her. A gentle kiss proved to be the final blow against the barrier of Richmond's thinly-held control; he heard Arissa gasp as his mouth descended on her with aching force, suckling the life from her. Small white hands wound themselves within the rich brown strands of his hair, clutching his scalp with sharp nails, and he pulled her more closely against him than he ever had before.

  He was not going to elongate their passion; he intended to make love to her all night and he was determined to start immediately. His hot lips moved from her mouth to her delicious torso, taking in a rosy nipple and sucking fiercely. He wanted her instantly hot, ready for his demanding entry. Moreover, it would make it easier to insert the pessary without her knowledge if she was as slick as rain and eager for his touch.

  Secretly, his hand slipped between the folds of the furs behind him. Fingering the small pebble containing the ingredients that would mayhap preserve Arissa's life, his left hand moved to the curve of her torso, trailing to the dark thatch of hair between her legs. Stroking her gently with his long middle finger as he pinched the pessary between his thumb and forefinger, he growled seductively when she pressed against him in eager anticipation.

  Arissa was already wet for him, begging for his heated member, and he groaned again when she wrapped her thighs about his hips urgently. Inserting his middle finger into her tight passage, he thrust long and hard, listening to her gasps of pleasure. When her hips began to gyrate in a frenzied manner, he quickly removed his finger and placed the pessary at her searing threshold. Just as he moved to insert it as far as it could go, Arissa suddenly stopped her delirium.