The Dark Knight

by Phillips, Tori

  Sandor had rarely set foot inside such a lavish abode as Snape. Most of the nobility did not allow the Rom under their roofs for fear of theft. Seeing Tonia within her own setting for the first time made him wonder if she could be happy with him, no matter what comforts he could provide for her.

  “You live in a grand house,” Sandor remarked as he curried his horse.

  “I had rather live with you,” she replied.

  He glanced at her over his shoulder. “I have very little to offer you.”

  She cocked one of her beautiful, sweeping eyebrows. “Give me your heart and I will be happy.”

  He grinned. “Do you require it wrapped inside a brassbound box?”

  She shuddered. “Oh, I mistook! I meant, give me your love.”

  He put down his brushes and took her in his arms. “You have that already, ten times over and more. But will that be enough for such a fine lady as you?”

  Two red spots colored her ivory cheeks. Her eyes flashed in the lantern light. “How now, Sandor? Do you think damask gowns and ropes of pearls win me? What do you take me for?”

  “I took you for my love,” he answered in a quiet tone, “but at the time I forgot that you were also nobility.”

  She pulled away from him. “Did my brother offer to buy you off? How much did he pay for you to renounce me?”

  Looking up to the stable’s roof, Sandor sought guidance from heaven. “Jaj! What is the matter with you gadje? You look at me and think that you can read my soul—that all I seek is your coin. Had that been true, I would have taken the King’s gold and wrung your neck.”

  Tonia pressed her lips together and stared down at her feet. Sandor returned to brushing his patient horse.

  Venting his frustration, he spoke to Baxtalo in Romany. “What am I to do with this pigheaded wife, eh, my friend? Doesn’t she see how much I love her? I am ready to leap into the fire of her father’s wrath for her, yet all she talks about is money!”

  Tonia punched his arm with her fist. “If you are going to be angry, pray do it in English, or French, if you prefer. I am well-versed to argue in either language.”

  Relieved that she had not stalked away, Sandor hid his grin before he turned to face her. “I merely asked Baxtalo’s opinion of my wife. As you can see, he is a wise horse and says nothing.”

  “And what is your opinion of your wife?” Tonia asked, tilting her chin up and staring quizzically at Sandor.

  He stepped closer to her and slipped his arm around her waist. “I think that she is the most beautiful woman in this world.”

  “Ha!” she replied, though she blushed.

  Heartened, Sandor continued. “That she is also the bravest, for she dared to challenge her executioner and so won his heart.”

  “Oh,” she murmured, allowing her body to relax.

  “And that she is most buxom in bed, though I have not tested that opinion in recent months.”

  “Ooh,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around him. “I have missed you so much, my love.”

  He pulled off her maid’s cap and unpinned her hair so that it cascaded over her shoulders. “You have no idea how much I have missed you, sukar. At night, when the wind blew cold through my little window, I would close my eyes and dream that I held you close to me. That made the weary days in prison fly faster.”

  “Prison?” She gasped, looking up at him.

  “Aye, beloved. ’Tis why I have not returned to you until now. Under orders from some royal minister, I was kept in close confinement at the Tower of London until good Queen Mary released me.”

  Tonia trembled. “God save you, Sandor. You were in that dreadful place? Whyfore?”

  He smoothed her satinlike cheeks with his thumbs. “Who knows? The King’s pleasure? A whim of the Constable? I knew not. They said they would hold me until they were satisfied of your death.”

  She hugged him tight. “Forgive me, my love. I didn’t know. Methought—”

  “That I had abandoned you?”

  She hung her head. “I prayed for your return, night and day. I worried that the patrin I had left at Hawksnest might have blown away. Then I wondered if I had been misled by your sweet words. Then, when I knew I was with child…”

  He lifted her chin with his finger. “Peace, sukar. ’Tis past—bury it. Let me remind you of my great love for my wife.”

  He lowered his head and caressed her lips with a whispering touch as if she might melt away, as had her image when he dreamed of her. Without hesitation, Tonia returned his kiss with her own, pressing her strawberry-sweet mouth against his and twining her tongue with his. By her response, Sandor knew that his prayers had been answered. He drew deep from Tonia’s bounty and she returned it to him in double measure. She tasted of warm honey and summer’s clover. He fumbled to loosen her bodice.

  Just then someone coughed loudly behind them. Sandor reluctantly pulled his lips from hers. Tonia straightened up then looked over her shoulder.

  “What is it, Tad?” she asked.

  A young turnspit boy stepped into the circle of the lantern’s light. “Yer pardon, m’lady, but yer lord father awaits ye and him.” He pointed to Sandor with a mixture of awe and fear. “An’ yer lord father said that ye had better not be a-rollin’ in the hayloft or he would flay him alive.”

  Sandor ran his fingers through his wind-snarled hair. “Jaj, ’twas a near thing,” he muttered under his breath.

  Tonia retrieved her cap from the stable floor. “Tell my father that we follow directly and that we were not in the hayloft doing anything. Do I make myself clear?”

  Tad nodded. “Aye, m’lady, fer I found you in the stable, and ye was only a-kissin’.”

  “Tad!” rebuked Tonia. “You do not need to say what we were doing. Just say that we are coming now.”

  Tad touched the brim of his cap. “Aye, m’lady.” With another swift glance at Sandor, the child ran out the door. His footsteps echoed on the courtyard’s cobblestones.

  Tonia slipped her hand into Sandor’s. “Pappa is really a very kind man,” she assured him, though her kiss-swollen lips wobbled a little.

  Sandor kissed the tip of her nose. “Aye, and pigs with wings fly around Snape Castle.” He lifted the lantern from its nail. “Fare thee well, Baxtalo. I trust that we shall meet again in the morning, provided that my lady’s father does not fry my liver before then.”

  As they wended their way to the yawning door of the castle, the image of the tarocchi Fool flashed through Sandor’s mind. Tapping his pouch at his belt, he felt the stiff vellum card.

  This is the moment when I will jump off the cliff with both feet and my eyes open.

  In the great hall of Snape Castle, Guy and Celeste sat upon their padded armchairs before the fire, and drank warmed wine from glazed pottery cups. Francis occupied a smaller chair at his father’s left hand. His Venetian wife, Jessica, sat on a footstool beside him. A large gray wolfhound snoozed on top of Guy’s feet. Otherwise, the large chamber was empty, though Tonia suspected that the family’s servants were hiding in nearby nooks and crannies, eager to catch every word that was spoken. She tightened her grip on Sandor’s arm.

  “Do not be afraid,” she whispered to him, though her own heart beat in double time. “Pappa’s bark is much worse than his bite.”

  Sandor gave her a quick sideways glance. “I will remind you of that jest at a later date. For now, let us render proper courtesies so that your parents will see that I am not a barbarian.”

  Together, Sandor and Tonia bowed and curtsied in a courtly manner to the Cavendish family. When Sandor stood, he rolled back his shoulders and faced Sir Guy. Tonia squeezed his arm to give him silent encouragement.

  Guy sipped his wine. He did not offer any to Tonia or Sandor. Instead, he asked, “Before we discuss your ravishment of my daughter, tell me the news from London. You said King Edward is dead?”

  Sandor tensed. Then he replied, “His Majesty died in early July, though what date I cannot say. My jailer did not confide that
information to me.”

  “Jailer?” echoed Celeste.

  “Aye, Mamma,” Tonia answered before Sandor could. “’Twas the reason he did not come to me sooner. One of the King’s minions had Sandor imprisoned in the Tower.”

  “’Tis a hellish place,” Francis told his wife.

  Sandor nodded to him. “Aye, my lord, you speak the truth. Within the week after the King’s death, a young girl named Jane Gray was proclaimed Queen by the Duke of Northumberland.”

  Guy slammed his fist down on the arm of the chair, waking the hound. “The very villain who ordered Tonia to be executed for her religion. I see now why he did it. I will wring his life from him, drop by drop.”

  Sandor shook his head. “You are too late, my lord,” he told him. “On the day that I was released from my cell, the great duke was released from his life. He was executed for treason on the twentieth of August.” He turned to Tonia. “And so the wheel of fate has come full circle.”

  Francis glanced at his silent father, then asked, “On the road, you told me that Queen Mary, not Jane, gave you freedom. Which one rules our fair land?”

  Sandor smiled. “Mary, King Henry’s elder daughter, is now the rightful Queen. They say she will be crowned in London come November.”

  “And Jane Gray?” Francis asked.

  Sandor sighed. “She too is now a prisoner behind the Tower’s rough walls. I never saw the lady myself, but they said she was very young and did not want the crown in the first place. ’Twas all Northumberland’s idea. His son was married to her.”

  “And so the duke would have been a kingmaker,” Francis murmured to his wife.

  Celeste lifted her wine cup. “And there’s an end to it. A health unto Her Majesty, Queen Mary!”

  Guy, Francis and Jessica raised their cups. “And so say all of us.” The four drank in silence.

  Sandor glanced at Tonia.

  She nodded. “Speak now while Pappa has his mouth full,” she whispered.

  Taking advantage of the momentary lull, Sandor cleared his voice. “My lord and lady, ’tis time to discuss the bride-price.”

  Guy blinked, then a sneer crossed his lips. “I see that you are not shy, knave, but a hardheaded businessman. Therefore, I, too, will come straight to the point. There is no dowry for the likes of you. Begone by morning’s light.”

  Tonia gulped. This interview was much worse than she had anticipated.

  Sandor did not show the slightest distress. Instead, he said, “My lord, you misunderstand me. I do not ask a payment from you. I ask you to tell me how much you want for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

  Both of Tonia’s parents gaped at him. Francis quickly added, “’Tis true, Father. ’Tis a custom among the Egyptians to pay the father of the bride. A most interesting idea, don’t you agree?”

  “Oh la la!” Celeste laughed, breaking the tension. “How marvelous! Just think of it!” She poked her husband playfully in his ribs. “Tell me, Guy, my love, how much would you have offered for my hand, eh?”

  Tonia’s father colored from the neck up and cleared his throat several times. A grin hovered on Tonia’s lips, but she bit them to suppress it.

  “I…I would have paid a great deal, sweetling,” Guy stammered.

  Celeste’s violet eyes danced with wicked delight. “Oui, but how much? In round figures?”

  Guy twitched in his chair. Francis covered his smile by drinking deeply from his cup. Jessica giggled behind her fan. Only Sandor remained serious.

  Guy coughed. “A hundred gold sovereigns! Nay, five hundred! By the stars, my love, you are priceless. I cannot put a value upon you.”

  Celeste clapped her hands. “You have all heard my husband. Five hundred gold sovereigns! Oh la la! What grand shopping I will do when we go to London in November for the coronation!”

  Guy turned redder. “’Twas a sum for your father, not for you to spend, my sweet. What of it? I have been married to you for years—and with only a dozen silver spoons as a dowry, if you recall.”

  Sandor frowned. “Mere silver for this great lady? My Lord Cavendish, your good wife is worth a thousand times that amount.”

  Celeste grinned broadly at him. “See? That is how a Frenchman speaks.”

  Sandor inclined his head to her. “Merci, ma dame. I am grateful for your support, but I must confess that I am also part Italian. I am the grandson of the Duke of Milan.”

  Tonia stared up at him. “You never told me this,” she whispered.

  Sandor smiled at her. “I never knew myself until my grandmother revealed it, after I had been released from the Tower.”

  Guy leaned forward in his chair. The sleeping wolf-hound twitched one ear. “How now? This is a new tale. Now you pretend to be of noble birth so that you can claim my daughter?”

  “’Tis no lie, my lord. The duke wooed my grandmother when she was young and very beautiful. The child of their love was my mother, born on the outside of the blanket, of course, but still the daughter of a duke.”

  “A pack of lies,” Guy muttered to Celeste. “The Gypsy’s stock and trade.”

  Sandor’s ears burned at the tips but he held his temper. Opening his pouch, he withdrew the tarocchi card. “The duke gave my grandmother many gifts, including a deck of beautiful cards like this one.”

  Francis extended his hand and Sandor, after a moment’s hesitation, gave the card to him. He trusted the younger man would not destroy his precious memento. Sandor was not so sure of Tonia’s father.

  “On the face, you see the Fool. He is a traveler in search of new horizons. On the back is the duke’s coat of arms and his motto.”

  “Amor vincit omnia,” Francis read aloud. “‘Love conquers all’ and I recognize the arms as belonging to the Visconti family. I once lived in Italy for several years and had the honor to meet your cousin, the present Duke of Milan.”

  His wife Jessica nodded. “Si, my lord,” she said to Guy. “Even in Venice we knew of the Viscontis. They are a very noble family and great patrons of the arts.”

  An unexpected sense of pride washed over Sandor. Francis had called the present duke his cousin. “‘Love conquers all’ is the motto that I have adopted as my own.”

  Guy drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. “You are overbold, Gypsy,” he remarked in a soft voice.

  Sandor looked Lord Cavendish straight in the eye. “I am of the Visconti blood, my lord, and I dare to love your daughter, Tonia, with every sinew of my being.”

  “And I love Sandor, Pappa. We are married and I carry our child. We are one blood, and there’s an end to the matter.” Her eyes flashed with blue fire.

  Guy sat back in his chair and folded his hands together. “Is that so, Tonia? You would forsake this warm, safe home to wander up and down the byways with this man?”

  Before Sandor could protest that he planned to build them a cottage, Tonia replied, “I do. Sandor risked his life for me, and I am proud to be his wife. Like Ruth in the Bible, I will go where’er he goes.”

  Sandor kissed her hand before he returned his attention to the business at hand. “The bride-price, my lord. I wish I could offer a hundred sovereigns for Tonia, though she is worth her weight in gold. Alas, I do not possess that much. However I am willing to work—”

  Guy signaled for silence. “Cease this haggling. You have already paid the price.”

  Sandor glanced at Tonia, who shrugged. “How so, my lord?”

  For the first time since the nerve-wracking interview began, Guy permitted the corners of his mouth to turn upward with the barest hint of a smile. “You saved Tonia from a miscarriage of justice. Her life and well-being are all I have ever wanted.”

  “And I agree,” added Celeste.

  Sandor was not sure that his ears had heard correctly. “You accept my service to Tonia as the bride-price, my lord?”

  Guy nodded. “I do.”

  Sandor was almost afraid to breathe, let alone ask one more question. “And if you accept this price, then you agree
that I am worthy of Tonia?”

  Guy glanced at Celeste, who gave him a little nod. He sighed. “I do.”

  Tonia broke from Sandor’s handhold and dashed for her father. Wrapping her arms around him, she kissed him on the cheek. “Oh, Pappa! Mamma! You have made me the happiest woman in England.”

  Sandor heard music in his ears. He felt like dancing around the chamber, but he feared that his exuberance might confound the Cavendishes. Instead he struck his chest with his fist. “I will be an honor to Tonia and to your family, my lord. You will see anon.”

  Celeste rose from her chair, drawing all attention to her petite form. “Mark me, my children, I have one condition to make—now that a Catholic queen rules England, you two must repeat your vows before a priest in our chapel.” She gave Sandor a look of concern. “Are you Catholic, perchance?”

  Sandor relaxed his shoulders. “Oui, ma dame, I was baptized—” He was about to say that he had been drenched with holy water seven times, but Tonia cut him off.

  “—in a cathedral in Paris, Mamma. Sandor is most Catholic.” She cast him a look that he did not dare to challenge.

  Celeste clapped her hands. “Très bien! Then ’tis done. In one swoop, we have regained our daughter, who in turn has regained her mirth. We have a new son to add to our family, and in the wintertime, we shall greet our grandchild. I am most pleased. What say you, my love?” she asked her husband.

  Guy finally smiled. “Your mother has spoken, Tonia. I am a wise man—I know when I have been vanquished.”

  Francis poured wine into two more cups. Then he handed them to Tonia and Sandor. Lifting his own cup, he said, “Drink with me to the happy couple.”

  Laughing, Tonia looked up at Sandor. “And what is the toast?” she asked.

  With a wry grin, Guy raised his cup. “Love conquers all!”

  “And so say all of us,” Tonia and Sandor cried, before they kissed.

  Epilogue

  Mid-December 1553

  Guy was enjoying a quiet doze in front of the fireplace in the upstairs solar when Celeste burst into the room waving a piece of paper. “How now?” he grumbled.

  “Ma foi! They did not wait for us!” Celeste pointed to the paper.