“Well it's not much, but we are happy here. And all the land back from the road is ours as well.”
They walked to the door and David led them inside. “Salena, my dear?” He called as they stepped inside. “I brought someone home to meet Rachel.”
They stepped into the main room of the cottage. It was sparsely decorated with a table and chairs. “Oh?” Salena’s voice perked up from the next room. She entered with a warm smile which fell to a sickly sneer as she recognized William.
William forced a smile of his own. “Lady Salena, I trust this morning finds you well?”
“Well enough, thank you,” came the terse reply.
“William only just returned from overseas. Isn't that wonderful?” David said in an artificially happy tone like a parent trying to convince a child to be excited about something the child hated. “Now he's come to see Rachel.”
“She's sleeping,” Salena said, her weak smile fading to a frown.
“Oh, sorry,” David said quickly. “We'll be quiet.” He moved by Salena to the next room. William followed with an apologetic grimace to Salena. He was feeling rather anxious about this situation. He found the inspection and requisite approval of a newborn to be an awkward process under the best of circumstances, but this was an old friend's child, and it was under the scrutiny of a critic in whose eyes he could do no right. If he overdid the praise, she would get offended that he was making sport of their baby, and if he didn't make a big enough fuss, she might complain that he found something wrong with the child.
The next room contained only two beds, a larger one and a small one in the corner on which a little girl lay sprawled in a deep sleep. David crept over to her and looked down with gentle, loving eyes at his little girl. He then waved William over, still looking at his daughter.
William stepped up to the bed in confusion. On the bed lay a chubby girl of about four years old. Her big eyes were closed under her dark locks.
Not knowing what else to do, he reached down and gently stroked her chubby cheek. She stirred slightly but did not wake.
“David, may I speak to you a moment… privately?” Salena said from the doorway.
David sighed, “Of course.” He forced a smile for William as he turned and followed her into the next room.
William stood looking over the child as he heard the intense whispered conversation in the other room. He knew it was about him, but what could he do? He wondered what sort of life this child might have. How would she grow up with these parents? She was so innocent now, but she would be saddled with so much from two imperfect people trying to teach and instruct her.
The intensity and the volume of the murmured argument began to grow after a few minutes. William felt very uncomfortable. He did not know if he should stay or quietly slip out. He knew he was the cause of the dispute, but he did not want to abandon David who was, presumably, fighting on his behalf.
After a few minutes, the spat showed no signs of letting up. William called out hesitantly, “David, I’d better get back.” The voices broke off and David popped his head into the room. “What? Leaving so soon?”
“I’m afraid I must,” said William, pointing his thumb over his shoulder at the door, “I'm just going to go.”
“I will at least accompany you to the road.”
William would have protested, but he wanted to escape this uncomfortable situation more than he wanted to be polite. “It was good seeing you again. You have a beautiful daughter. You should be very proud.” With that, he broke for the door. David caught up to William on the path to the road.
“It seems Salena still has some hard feelings,” William observed. “Sorry to cause you all that trouble.”
“What?” David objected, acting surprised. “No, that was not about you. We were just in an argument earlier is all.”
William stared at him flatly. “I must say I am a little surprised that her feelings are still quite so passionate,” he added as if he had not heard David’s weak protest.
“Well,” David said hesitantly, dropping the charade. “She blames you and your family for a lot of the hardships we are having. I have tried to convince her otherwise, but she's got it in her head that way. And she knew a lot of the things we used to do when we were younger. I have tried to convince her you are a different person, but again, she has not yet seen that.”
“She is right not to believe you,” William said simply and changed the subject. “You have a very cute daughter, but it raised one interesting question.”
“Which was?”
“What have you done with your baby?”
David’s face reddened and he looked away. “Salena was pregnant before I left for the Crusades. I did not know until I returned.” The scandal that must have created for her to have been pregnant with no husband must have been something. A few of the pieces of this confusing relationship clicked into place.
They reached the road, and William turned to David. “It was great seeing you again. Can I expect to see you in two days?”
“It is not much notice,” David said, looking over his shoulder at the house. It was clear he was worrying about informing Salena.
“No, I understand if circumstances will not permit your participation. But would you be good enough to pass the word to any others you know that would be interested? We need about fifty total, and we figure we have about thirty guarantees thus far.”
David looked at the ground for a moment. “I will be there, William. And I will bring as many knights as you like,” he assured him confidently. “As I said, we all need the work.”
“Thank you, David.” William smiled. “I look forward to seeing you there.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
The next morning Henry found himself strolling the hallways of Dawning castle. Every hallway, every corner, every room was thick with the shadows of times long past, memories of experiences both joyful and sad. It took but a moment’s reflection to resurrect joyous childhood games with his brothers as children. A moment more and painful memories with the same siblings took center stage in his memory.
Henry had been so far removed from these shadows for so long, he was surprised to find them still so poignant. There were many ghosts that he had not had time to come to terms with since his return. He was a different person now and saw things very differently than when he had left. He longed to dissect these phantoms through the glass of his current understanding and experience, but there simply was no time. Nevertheless, there was still something strangely comforting about being back in his old house. Though the large stone hallways of the castle seemed cold and foreboding to some, it was the only home Henry had ever known. Good or bad, the experiences of his childhood had all happened here and this nostalgia was like a warm blanket wrapped around him. Despite all his doubts, fears, and mistakes, as he stood in these halls again, it was easy to believe that all would end well.
But all was not well, he reminded himself. His family was a mess, and he was departing on a dangerous rescue mission from which he might not return for a brother he hardly knew. “Perhaps I should not celebrate too soon,” he said aloud to the empty hallway. Henry had naturally wandered over to the guest wing of Dawning Court to call on the new object of his affection. He knocked on the door of her chamber with no small amount of apprehension given the impulsive proposal of marriage he had issued the previous night that was as yet unanswered. In the clarity of the morning light, Henry regretted having made the impulsive proposal. He wished he could retract it, to excuse it, but what could he do? He wanted to believe that maybe Mary would not mention it, but of course she would have to address it. And what would she say? What did he want her to say?
The door was opened by Charlotte, Mary’s dark-haired maid, who curtsied slightly and invited him into the outer room of her chambers. He seated himself but was on his feet again momentarily as Mary entered the room. “Henry, what a pleasant surprise this early in the morning,” she said cheerfully. Despite the early hour she was already n
eatly attired in a comely dress with her hair done up, ready for her day. Henry never could have guessed that he had left her only a few hours before. Mary looked back to Charlotte and waved her away. Charlotte retired to an inner chamber and Mary sat next to Henry and took his hands in hers. “Now, my dear, are you quite sure this is what you do truly desire?” she asked easily but with an intense look in her eye.
“I'm not sure I understand,” Henry was assuming she was referring to his extemporaneous proposal the night before but was afraid to assume too much.
“You said something last night that robbed me of sleep. I was up all night thinking about your words just before you stole away and did not allow me a chance to answer properly.”
'Stole away?' that was not the way Henry remembered it. He was suddenly very nervous. “Well, it was late,” he started to retract his impulsive proposal. “I spoke rash—”
Mary held up a hand to silence him. “I must say, such a proposal intrigues me, but before I can make an answer, there is something else we must speak on before I could even consider mentioning this to my family.“
“Something else?”
“This scheme to rescue your fallen brother,” she clarified.
“Oh, that. I do not see what that should have to do with—I do not see that there is any choice. My brother has been captured, and even William has returned to assist in his rescue. What choice could there be for me? Why would there be a choice?” She bit her lip in a coy expression that Henry could not help but find adorable. “Why do you hesitate, my own?” he asked, half laughing.
“I only fear my inability to make myself clearly understood,” she said. “You must promise that you will not misunderstand me,” she said firmly not in the motherly tone that she tended to take with him but rather as a playful sort of beckoning that invited him to play along. “You will not be cross with me?”
“My dear, as I recall it is you that has occasion to be cross with me rather than the other way around.” He was laughing nervously, unsure whether she spoke in earnest or jest. She pouted again, and he hastened to reassure her that he would not be angry with her.
“Now tell me what is troubling you so. Do you fear for my safety?”
“My reticence,” she said, “springs not for fear of your safety alone, although of course that is foremost on my mind, but from a number of other factors. Every facet of this mission leads me to believe it is an ill-fated expedition.”
Now it was Henry's turn to pout. “Do you think so little of my skills then?”
“Henry, I do not speak to cause you injury but to protect your life. Your past attempts at leadership on the field of battle were disastrous. Even with well-armed and well-trained men, you alone scarcely survived. What chance, then, for this ill-conceived plan?”
“I will not be alone,” Henry hastened to reassure her. “William will accompany me.” He deliberately did not mention Thomas, fearing the mention of his name would only give her more cause to doubt him.
“William? But your own tongue has decried him as an arrogant, brash, untrustworthy delinquent. What comfort for the widow-to-be is there in his company? I remember well the story you shared of his infamy and cowardly escape from a tournament of gentlemen.”
“From the stories that have reached my ear, he has no equal in battle.”
“Exaggerated though those stories most assuredly are, consider this. If things went badly and William had a choice between rescuing his brother or escaping with his life, which would he choose?”
Henry dropped his eyes. “I suppose he would escape.”
“Precisely! And then we must consider the quest itself. Why would a good man risk his life and certain prosperity for Richard; for this monster?”
Henry stiffened. “That is my brother.”
“Forgive my frankness, Henry, but how would you have me characterize him then?” she asked primly. “How should I refer to a person that has heartlessly heaped scorn, ridicule, and abuse upon the object of my affection since his tenderest days of innocence? Were he not born to the same mother as you, I doubt you would balk at such a designation.”
“He is not so bad,” Henry said, somewhat embarrassed and unable to meet her gaze.
“He is an animal. He abuses all those under him. He remorselessly slaughters women and children because of their race. Did not your own tongue designate him so when you were first re-acquainting me with your siblings?”
“Even if all that is true, how can I possibly refuse to help my brother in such a time as this? Even my exiled junior, William, is here to assist. It would only reflect badly on me if I refused, whether it was justified or not.”
“Reflect badly to whom?” she asked passionately. “To William? What could you possibly care what he thinks?”
“William’s opinion is not important to me, but it is important to my mother,” Henry said disgustedly. “She treats him like her little prodigal son that can do no wrong. A word from him in the right place might ruin my relationship with her altogether. He could poison her mind against me. Now,” he asked at last, “why would you wish me to refuse my responsibility as a knight and a noble of the House of Dawning?”
“Henry, I did not want to bring this up, but have you forgotten so quickly your renouncement of this warrior lifestyle? Is that how little you value your own word, that it is forgotten and the sword taken up again at the first sign of trouble? What is a vow worth that you would so easily drop as soon as the keeping of it occasioned any difficulty? Is that what you think of your vows? Is that all the determination you will put into a marriage vow?”
“I do not understand, Mary. Why do you castigate me for doing what is right?”
“Right for your family, perhaps, but not right for you.”
“Speak plainly now, I must know why you are so ardently opposed to this quest.”
“Henry,” she said frankly, “you should control Dawning Court. You should assume the seat of your departed father. You are the best, the most noble, the most worthy.”
“I am the fifth son,” he protested weakly.
“Do not insult me that I do not know your heart better than that. You must have considered the possibility.”
“Considered, perhaps, but I am the fifth son.”
“But you are the first son in standing. Consider, John is a drunk that has been cut off from the family fortune. Edward has disgraced the family and disappeared. He will never be in contention for the seat. Thomas cannot seem to run his own house, let alone a Barony. That leaves you alone to make a serious bid for the seat, save one. Richard. Richard would be a brutal and bloodthirsty leader. And now Richard is imprisoned by the very people he oppressed. Is that not Providence smiling on you? Is this not the same as God’s ordination? Would you risk your own latent glory on an endeavor that is destined to fail? Would you save one man when it might cost thousands of others their lives and their happiness? Yet you are intending to rescue him.”
There was no response for a moment, and when it came, Henry’s voice was very stiff. “I want Dawning Court. I believe I deserve it, and I am happy to watch my inept, pathetic, stupid brothers make decisions that actively or tacitly pass the birthright down to me. But I will not consciously sacrifice one of them just to enrich myself.”
“Why do I care more for you than you care for your own life? Why won't you fight for what rightfully belongs to you? Why is your reprehensible family more important to you than I am?”
“T’would that necessity did not demand this of me, Mary, but it does. And until I am master of my own destiny and can choose my own path, I will do what is required of me.”
“I am saddened to hear that. I thought I made it clear that ambition and an appreciation for a higher road than the warrior way were essential in a match for me.” Henry did not reply. He was so conflicted that an appropriate response utterly failed him. She had told him that she would not marry him if he was willing to be pressed into service by his sense of duty. His misgivings about this ill-fated m
ission were stronger than ever. And he had once again acted impulsively to follow his heart, and he had again been made the fool for it. He was sick as he stood to formally apologize. “Milady, I am truly sorry that I have brought you here under my hospitality, only to abandon you before you have even had a chance to settle in. I would never have put you in this position had I any inkling such things were afoot. Please feel free to remain at Dawning Court as long as you would like.”
It was Mary's turn to be speechless. She had been sure she had him well in hand only a moment before and was dumbstruck when he turned formal and left her. She had arguments prepared for any defense he might make except for this one. How could she argue with this? “I—” she started but stopped.
Henry paused at the door. “I am likely to be very busy preparing for this quest, as we are leaving before dawn in two days; so I fear I will not see you again before then. I am grateful for your friendship in this difficult time and wish you all the best.” With that, Henry departed for the courtyard where he knew preparations were being made. He was not happy about leaving Mary this way; he did not blame her. He knew it was his fault for having filled her head with such stories about the shortcomings of his family. If only he had been more reserved. He was just so desperate to win her over to his side before she met the rest of the family and saw their weaknesses reflected in him. But now he was numb as he went about the necessary tasks to prepare for the hard ride they had ahead. Henry had gone from feeling a close kinship with Mary only the night before to feeling completely and utterly alone. What did it matter if he did not survive this journey? Who would really care if he was no more?
CHAPTER FORTY
“They are not here,” Martha told Thomas the next morning after William’s surprise return. “Henry is visiting with select knights individually to recruit them so as to keep this as quiet as possible.”
The Knights Dawning (The Crusades Series) Page 26