The Dark Knight

by Phillips, Tori

  Sandor’s attention fastened upon the large charcoal-gray stallion that the taller man rode. With a jolt, he remembered where he had seen that particular horse and its larger-than-life rider—back in April on the road toward Harewold. He scrutinized the second gentleman and his mount. Though the man had been swathed in a long cape and winter hood, Sandor felt sure that he had been the silent third gentleman of that party. His horse was the same.

  “Jaj,” he whispered to himself. “I am twice again the fool! These men are Tonia’s family and I sent them on a merry chase. Methinks they will not thank me for it.”

  Now that Sandor had deduced the men’s identities, he observed Tonia’s father more closely before the travelers disappeared down the northern road. The nobleman sat astride his horse as if he had been born in the saddle. Without the muffling cape and low-slung hood, Sandor noted that Lord Cavendish was indeed a handsome man, just as Tonia had described him. In his youth, Sir Guy had been called angelic, she had told Sandor, but now that he was in his middle life, people said he was merely godly. No matter. Lord Cavendish was definitely a man to be respected.

  As soon as the party had gone over the rise, Sandor mounted Baxtalo. As long as the road wound through the wood, he had no trouble keeping a parallel course with the carriage. Once out on the open moor, following them secretly would become trickier but not beyond Sandor’s skills. A couple of heavy carriages and a dozen horsemen were child’s play to track, especially on a little-traveled byway.

  An hour later, Sandor almost blundered onto the Cavendishes at the crossroads where once again, Tonia had stopped the coach. Pulling Baxtalo off to the side behind a large growth of brambles, he watched her lay yet another sign, pointing their direction. Once again she covered her actions with a counterfeit of nausea. As soon as Tonia had returned to the carriage, the travelers continued on their way.

  Sandor waited until they were out of sight before he checked the patrin. “She is a true wife and my beloved!” he said to Baxtalo. The thought warmed his blood. He could not wait to hold her in his embrace. Examining the ground around the marker, Sandor noted with relief that there was no sign of true illness.

  Once again, he followed them at a distance. The sun eventually burned through the gray cloak of clouds. By its height in the sky, Sandor concluded that it would soon be midday. He presumed that the Cavendishes would soon stop at some obvious spot ahead for their dinner. Instead of continuing to follow them and risking detection on this open ground, he decided to circle around the travelers and meet them from the front.

  He turned Baxtalo off the road. They cantered a half mile out onto the wasteland before Sandor thought they were far enough away not to be seen from the road. Then he steered Baxtalo north again. Touching his horse lightly on the flanks with his heels, Sandor raced ahead. He prayed to Black Sara to keep their path smooth and free from unseen rabbit holes or hidden bog patches.

  When he calculated that he had covered several miles beyond the carriages, Sandor slowed Baxtalo and turned him again toward the road. Once back on the beaten track, Sandor alighted and checked the markings on the ground. The carriages had not yet come this far. After he remounted, he stood in his stirrups and scanned down the byway. A thin cloud of dust on the horizon pinpointed Tonia’s position. He watched their progress for a quarter of an hour until he perceived that they had stopped. He nodded to himself in satisfaction.

  “’Tis dinner.” He patted Baxtalo’s neck. “Methinks now is the time to join the family—but softly, very softly.”

  Once again, they left the track and retraced their steps until they drew closer to where Sandor estimated the carriages had halted. A roadside copse of trees offered shade and cool respite to the travelers. Sandor dropped Baxtalo’s reins to the ground. The well-trained horse knew he was to stay until summoned. Then Sandor crept closer until he could hear voices. He flattened himself behind a large growth of prickly thistles.

  “Now that your stomach is full, you will feel better,” the older woman remarked.

  Sandor tensed. The Cavendishes were much closer to him than he had suspected. He glanced in both directions to see if the men-at-arms kept a vigilant watch, but thankfully, they were not in sight. They look for large bears and do not expect an adder among the thistles.

  “Aye, Mamma,” Tonia replied clearly. “I do hope so.”

  The sound of her voice gave wings to Sandor’s spirits. He wanted to leap over the brambles and claim her as his own there and then. Instead, he held himself in check. He knew that if he suddenly stood up, he would be readily mistaken for a highwayman. Instead, he would wait until Tonia withdrew to take her ease. Then he could catch her alone. It would be best if Tonia was by his side when he introduced himself to her family.

  He heard the two women move closer to his hiding place. Their voluminous skirts made a great deal of noise swishing through the underbrush.

  “Watch out for the thistles, Tonia,” her mother warned. “Ma foi! They surround us. Pah! I dare not lift my skirts just yet.”

  With a shock, Sandor realized that both women were searching for a place to relieve themselves. No wonder there weren’t any guards on this side of the trees! If he didn’t reveal himself quickly, he would meet his unsuspecting mother-in-law under very embarrassing circumstances.

  Thinking on the fly, Sandor whistled for Baxtalo. He hoped that Tonia would recognize the horse and thereby know that Sandor was close at hand.

  At the sound of his call, the ladies stopped. “What was that?” Lady Cavendish asked in a wary tone.

  At the same time, Tonia shouted, “Sandor!” Then, “Oh, Mamma, look there. See the horse? ’Tis Baxtalo! Oh, Sandor! Where are you?”

  Needing no further reassurance of his welcome, Sandor rose from behind the thistles. Tonia and her mother were less than six feet away from him. Her mother screamed in fright and stumbled backward. Holding her skirts above her ankles, Tonia half ran, half leapt through the thistle patch to his side.

  “’Tis Sandor!” she cried again. Then she threw herself into his arms. “Oh, my love, you came back!” she said through her tears that fell freely.

  “Sukar luludi,” he murmured. “How could I stay away? Forgive me for taking so long.” He hugged her to his chest, covering her cheek, ear and neck with his kisses.

  Before Sandor had the time to explain the reason for his extended absence, Lady Cavendish’s cry alerted the rest of the party. Meanwhile Baxtalo thundered to a stop behind his master. He whinnied when he saw Tonia. Sir Guy, the other nobleman and the men-at-arms burst through the trees. The two gentlemen unsheathed their swords while several of the men-at-arms notched arrows in their bowstrings.

  “Unhand my daughter, you varlet!” Sir Guy shouted, shielding his wide-eyed wife with his body.

  Spinning around in Sandor’s arms, Tonia faced down her outraged family. “Nay, Pappa! You cannot harm him! ’Tis Sandor—the father of my babe!”

  Her announcement brought the Cavendishes to a sudden halt amid the thistles. Sandor exhaled as if someone had gut-punched him. His pounding heart sent a sudden rush of blood to his head. Giddy joy welled up inside him. “You carry our child under your heart?” he asked her in wonder.

  Tonia dimpled. “Aye, I hope you are pleased.” She laid her head on his chest. “Oh, Sandor, I am so glad you have come back. I have missed you terribly.”

  He gathered her closer to him with a protective gentleness. “And I have longed for you, best beloved. I vow I will never leave you again.”

  Momentarily stunned by Tonia’s unexpected announcement, Guy finally found his voice. “What tale is this? Lies from beginning to end! Has your melancholy snapped your wits, Tonia? ’Tis a highwayman who holds you. Unhand her, I say!” He pricked Sandor’s bare forearm with the point of his blade. A small trickle of blood rolled down his flesh.

  Sandor flinched but did not release Tonia. “You mistake me, my lord. I mean no harm to this sweet lady. How could I? She is my wife.”

  “Mon Dieu!
” Celeste stared at the couple in open astonishment.

  At the sight of Sandor’s blood, Tonia pulled her handkerchief from her sleeve and bound up the wound. “Fie, Pappa! Put up your sword. You too, Francis! I will not have you skewer my husband and make our child an orphan even before he is born.”

  Her words swelled Sandor’s pride. Fate had sent him a most magnificent woman. He silently thanked God for giving him the good sense to marry her. “My lord,” he began again. “I am no brigand, nor outlaw. I ask only for your ear, not your fortune. I pray that you give me your leave to relate our full story.”

  Francis drew abreast of Sir Guy, his sword still pointed at Sandor. “I recognize this knave, Father, and his horse yonder. You are the rogue we met near Harewold, the one who sent us far out of our way.”

  More anger darkened Lord Cavendish’s eyes. “You! Aye, now I remember! Did you lie to us to give yourself more time to ravish my daughter? Twice-double villain! A quick death is too kind for you.”

  Tonia’s body shook with her frustration. “Pappa! Unstop your ears and listen to me! If Sandor misguided you, ’twas for my safety.”

  “Aye, my lord,” Sandor added, stepping around Tonia. He refused to cower behind her skirts—he would fight his own battle. Taking her hand, he entwined his fingers through hers and gave her a little squeeze for encouragement. “Methought that you were the King’s men come to ascertain Tonia’s death. Though she had described her family to me, on that day, we were all well wrapped against the cold and I did not recognize you.”

  Francis lowered his sword. “I perceive that you have lost your northern accent,” he remarked with a small trace of humor.

  “Indeed, my lord. That too was a ruse.”

  Sir Guy cocked his head. “How did you know that she was to die?” he asked, drawing out each word.

  Sandor steeled himself for the answer. “Because, my lord, I was the late King’s executioner. I was sent to kill her.”

  “Le Monsieur de Mort that Tonia spoke of,” breathed Celeste. Her countenance softened when she looked at him.

  Sandor flashed a warm smile at the petite gentlewoman. Now he knew where Tonia had inherited her dark hair and her beauty. “Oui, ma dame,” he replied in his childhood tongue, then continued in that language. “’Twas my former office until I met your most beautiful daughter.”

  Celeste clapped her hands with surprise and pleasure. “Oh la la! You are French!”

  Sandor bowed to Lady Cavendish. “I was born outside of Paris, ma dame,” he replied in flowing French. He chose not to reveal that he had been born literally outside—in a field.

  Sir Guy narrowed his eyes. “Did you say the late king? What news is this?”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Before the Gypsy could relate the events that had rocked London for the past few months, fat raindrops suddenly splattered upon them. While the Cavendishes had given their attention to Sandor, a large black storm cloud overtook them. Tonia and her mother ran for the shelter of their carriage. Sheathing his sword, Guy shot the rogue a withering glare before he addressed his servants.

  “We will return to Snape at once,” he instructed his driver. To Sandor, he continued, “And once there, you will answer a great number of my questions.”

  The Gypsy returned Guy’s steady gaze with his own. Only then did Guy notice the man’s blue eyes. Most unusual for a dark-haired, swarthy Gypsy, he thought. Unsettled by the strange eye color and boldness of the man’s gaze, Guy mounted his horse and spurred it into a trot, heading back down the road toward home. As he rode, his mind spun in a hundred different directions, none of them comforting. What manner of mischief had this charlatan worked upon his innocent Tonia? How had he bewitched Guy’s most sensible daughter so that…

  He gritted his teeth as he blotted out the mental image of his chaste daughter making love with this foreigner. No doubt the knave had employed some devilish charm to blind Tonia’s mind while he had his way with her body.

  Guy’s blood grew hotter. Casting a quick glance over his shoulder, he was satisfied to see that Francis rode beside the man—the better to keep an eye on him. On the other hand, Francis did not show as much wariness as he should. Instead, he engaged in a lively conversation with their unwelcome guest. Guy eyed the carriage. At least, Celeste had kept the leather blinds closed. Tonia would not be able to call out to the rogue who had used her so foully and who had poisoned her mind in the bargain.

  When we return to Snape, I will deal harshly with this churl. He will count himself fortunate if he ever sees daylight again.

  Inside the stifling carriage, Tonia fanned herself and glared at her mother. “Cannot we lower the blinds, just a little, Mamma? By my troth, I will melt ere we arrive home.”

  Giving her daughter a sad look, Celeste shook her head. “’Tis better this way. The rain comes in fits and starts.”

  Tonia snorted. “Not so! You really mean to say that you do not want me to speak with Sandor.”

  Celeste sighed. “Methinks that your Pappa would be most upset if you even look at that man.”

  Tonia curled her lip. “You mean my husband? Do not gape at me, Mamma. ’Tis true—we are married—and soon we will be the parents of your grandchild.”

  Celeste’s eyes grew wistful. “Oh la la! A grandchild!” She sighed. “I have longed to hold that little one in my arms ever since the doctor told me of your condition.”

  Tonia spied a small chink in her mother’s defenses. “Aye, I know that you do. I have seen you sewing little gowns and wrappers.”

  Her mother shrugged. “The child will need clothes no matter who its parent is.”

  Tonia pressed her advantage. “And the babe will be a beautiful child. You have seen his handsome father. You must agree.”

  Celeste cleared her throat. “Oui, I will confess that your Sandor makes a very good appearance despite his poor apparel, but he is a common vagabond, not a proper husband for my girl.”

  Tonia patted her stomach. “I am no longer a little girl in leading strings, Mamma, but a woman grown—and married.”

  Celeste rolled her eyes. “How so this marriage? Did you exchange vows before a priest?”

  Tonia swallowed. “Nay, there was none to be had at Hawksnest, and we were pressed for time. But we did profess our love and loyalty inside a chapel.”

  “No banns? No witnesses? No marriage contract?” her mother asked.

  Tonia shook her head in answer to each question. She showed the horseshoe-nail ring to her mother. “Sandor gave me this as his pledge, and we mingled our blood together so that now we are one forever.” She leaned over and took her mother’s hand in hers. “Mamma, help me. I love him so much. I will die without him.”

  Celeste kissed her daughter’s cheek. “Oui, any blind fool could see that. The problem is, what does your father see? If looks could kill, your Sandor would have died back there amid the thistles.”

  Francis observed the man riding beside him, and he found he liked what he saw. Like the rest of the Cavendish family, he had despaired when beautiful, gifted Tonia had chosen to shut herself away from the secular world instead of being married to some fortunate man. Only when he had seen Tonia and her lover together, did Francis realize how lonely she had been before this Gypsy had come into her life. Within Sandor’s embrace, his half sister glowed like a bright sunbeam dancing on the surface of a pond.

  Eyeing his father’s straight back and the unyielding set of his jaw, Francis knew that Sandor’s suit for Tonia would be an uphill struggle. Did the Gypsy have any idea what a dangerous road he walked?

  Urging his horse closer to his companion, Francis asked, “Tell me, Sandor. Do you love my sister? Or is it her fortune?”

  The Gypsy’s sun-kissed skin turned a few shades paler. “If you were not my Tonia’s beloved brother, I would split your liver for that question. To me, her fortune is herself alone. I accept no dowry like a gadjo.”

  His answer and the emotion behind it took Francis by surprise even though
he did not understand the meaning of gadjo.

  “How can this be true? All men are in love with wealth.”

  Looking down his nose at Francis, the Gypsy replied, “Men are blind if they do not see that your sister is beyond the price of gold and silver. May I die if I lie.” Then he added, “’Tis I who must pay the bride-price. I will explain this to your father—if he gives me the chance before he runs me through like a roast on a spit.” He flashed a rueful grin at Francis.

  Francis’s eyebrows rose; he whistled through his teeth. “Hoy day, I have never heard of such an idea.”

  Sandor’s smile widened. “’Tis the custom among the Rom…that is…my people. A man would be shamed—and so would the bride—if he did not pay the girl’s father a goodly price for his daughter’s hand. Methinks your father will see my point, once he understands that my heart is true.”

  Francis puffed out his cheeks. “Sir Guy Cavendish is a very reasonable man, most of the time, but in the matter of his three daughters, he tends to lose all reason. You have your work cut out for you. If it makes you feel more easy in your soul, be assured that I will add my words to yours.”

  Sandor stared at Francis, then he laughed. “Methinks that you speak true. My thanks. I will count you among my friends, my lord.”

  “Since it seems that we are already brothers-in-law, call me Francis.”

  Though the Cavendishes returned unexpectedly and after dark, the chamberlain of Snape Castle rose to the occasion. New fires were lit in the great hall’s hearth, and fresh candles were inserted into the sockets of the chamber’s large staghorn chandelier. Supper was hastily prepared for the famished travelers while clean linens were laid on the recently stripped beds. While her parents refreshed themselves after the day’s journey, Tonia followed Sandor to the stables. It was her first opportunity to be alone with him since they had parted at Hawksnest. Not quite knowing how to pick up where they had left off, she watched him in silence while he prepared Baxtalo for the night.