Dustin eyed him. “How did you know it was me? We sent no word ahead announcing our arrival.”
The man bowed quickly again. “If it pleases my lady, your husband instructed us to watch for the most beautiful woman in the realm with hair like spun gold. When we saw you passing through the portcullis, we assumed he meant you. Were we wrong?”
Dustin grinned bashfully and Marcus answered. “Nay, you were not. ’Tis indeed Lady de Lohr,” he said formally. “Show her to her rooms for she is weary from her ride.”
The man bowed again, motioning to a few men behind him. They began rushing forward to assist in carrying Lady de Lohr’s belongings.
“Where is Baron de Lohr?” Marcus asked.
“He is over on the tournament field, my lord,” the steward replied. “Our illustrious Prince John has scheduled a tourney the day after tomorrow, and he and his knights have been practicing. He asks you and your knights to join him immediately after seeing to his wife’s comfort and safety.”
“Very well,” Marcus nodded curtly, motioning to Edward and Dud.
After a brief conference to divide up the duties, Marcus went with Dustin and the herd of servants while Edward and Dud went to see to the men. Marcus and Edward would join up later, on the practice field, leaving Dud to guard Dustin.
Windsor had more than just a massive cylindrical keep and a few outbuildings. It also had a block of apartments that stretched all along the west side of the castle. Inside the cavernous block, Marcus took Dustin’s cloak personally as she followed the stewards and porters with her baggage. She could not take her eyes off the women and their beautiful dresses, having never cared about her appearance before, but now she felt extremely self-conscious. Her gold surcoat was simple and tasteful, but these women had surcoats with studded jewels and gold leaf embroidery. She did not mean to stare, but she was.
She fell back in step beside Marcus, clutching his elbow. “Marcus, have you ever seen so many richly dressed women?”
He had and was not in the least impressed. “Rich surcoats are all they have in their favor, my lady. I would wager to say that their intelligence equals a stalk of celery.”
She giggled, noticing the women were starting to stare back at her. One woman’s gaze was particularly hostile and Dustin stiffened.
“Why is she looking at me like that?” she demanded. “I am going to teach her some manners.”
She meant what she said, but Marcus clamped a huge hand over her arm and stayed her. “Now is not the place, my lady,” he said evenly. “She is simply envious of your beauty, surely you cannot fault her that. In fact, I’d say that rumors of your loveliness are even now spreading through court like wildfire. If I were you, I would learn to accept the openly hateful looks from jealous women or you are going to be fighting a great many of them.”
She turned to look at him, seeing that he was sincere. “Do you know that you are only the second person to tell me that I am beautiful? Chris was the first, but I though he said it because….because he wanted something.”
Marcus had a good idea what she meant. “He said it because it is God’s truth, and I say it for the same reason. You had better become accustom to hearing it.”
They followed the steward into a cathedral-like foyer and ascended a massive staircase to a second floor. There were great open-beamed ceilings and plaster walls. After that, Dustin was completely lost. She knew they traveled down a corridor until they came to a large oak door, one of several in the length of the hall. The head steward threw the big iron lock and opened the door.
Dustin was speechless. The huge antechamber she had entered into was resplendent with silk curtains and big hides covering the floor. Finely carved furniture decorated the room and there were two doors, opposite each other on parallel walls. A fire burned softly in the huge carved hearth. The chamber smelled like freshly cut wood and she could see fresh rushes skirting the perimeter of the room.
While she was gaping at the room, the army of servants that had been following her slipped into the room and disappeared through the door on the far right. They worked efficiently, like ants, and shortly had her trunks and other small effects brought in. Her maids were ushered in, as well, and they too disappeared through the door to unpack for their mistress. Dustin had yet to notice the activity; she was still appraising the room.
Marcus lay her cloak on a chair, grinning at her reaction to the room. “A far cry from Lioncross?”
She nodded faintly. “Have you ever seen such luxury, Marcus? We are staying in rooms meant for royalty.”
“Nay, my lady, you are staying in rooms meant for the Defender of the King’s Realm,” he said. “Christopher is worthy of such attentions.”
She shook her head again, moving to the windows and delighted to notice a garden-like courtyard below. Her awe was turning into giddy happiness, and she spun away from the window in delight, relishing the newfound luxury and space of her chambers.
“This is wonderful,” she exclaimed. “Are you going to see Chris now? Can I come?”
“Aye, I am going to see him now, but you cannot come,” he replied. “He wants you here, but I am sure as soon as he sees you have arrived, he will join you. You will not be alone for long.”
She dutifully nodded, not particularly disappointed because now she could explore her new home. Marcus left her with a formal bow, telling her to bolt the door behind him and open it to no one save someone she knew. When he was gone, she did as she was told and immediately began to investigate every corner of the pretty antechamber.
RISE OF THE DEFENDER
BIRTH OF THE LEGEND
PART 2
CHAPTER ELEVEN
London, England
The Tower of London
Prince John sat in his silk and oaken chair, a chair he likened to be the throne of England. His dirty black hair was stuck to his oily face as he watched Ralph Fitz Walter from across the polished and well–used table that was one of the centerpieces of his lavish solar at Windsor Castle. His father had used this table. To John, it reeked of power. He could still see his father, Henry the Second, standing over it, yelling about something or another. It seemed to him that his father had always been yelling.
“She has arrived,” Ralph said with a leering smile.
John was distracted from the ghost of his father. “She? Who?”
“Lady Dustin Barringdon de Lohr,” Ralph enunciated every syllable with relish. “She’s in the baron’s chambers with only one knight as a guard.”
John, hit with the news, sat forward in his chair. “De Lohr’s wife? How damned fortunate for us.”
“Hmpf, fortunate indeed, sire,” Ralph agreed. “I still believe we would have been successful in a kidnap attempt had you so allowed. She had only twenty-five men-at-arms and three knights as escort.”
“Mayhap,” John waved him off. “But de Lohr was very vague with where she had been, and why she was delayed. I will not risk men with such scant information. But she is here now and I am pleased.”
Ralph nodded, scratching the louse that had just bit him on the back. “Shall I bring her here, sire?”
John sat back in his chair thoughtfully. “One knight, did you say? We can get around one knight.” His gaze lingered on Ralph a moment longer. “Have we heard anything from your spies at Lioncross Abbey?”
“Not a word, sire,” Ralph said, a bit embarrassed. “I have sent out a few good men to follow up with them. It shan’t be long.”
John nodded slowly, still in thought. Finally, he took a deep breath. “It is probably of no importance now, considering de Lohr and his wife are here,” he said “Aye, bring her to me. I would meet this woman.”
“And de Lohr?” Ralph wanted to know.
John shrugged. “What of him? I will tell him I simply could not wait to meet his wife,” he said. “I won’t touch her, at least not today. So tell me, Ralph, how goes preparations for the tourney in two days?”
The subject changed and Ralph went with it.
“Nearly complete, my lord,” he said. “The lists have been built and the banners are being raised as we speak. It should be a grand spectacle. Oh, and sire, another thing, Marcus Burton was one of the knights who escorted Lady de Lohr to London. ’Tis said he serves de Lohr now.”
“Burton?” John looked surprised. “Damnation, I didn’t even know he had returned. Serving de Lohr, did you say?”
Ralph watched John’s face twist with frustration, but the man turned to his wine and said no more. Ralph, feeling the conversation over, moved for the door but John stopped him.
“Ralph, why did I not know Burton had returned?” he asked evenly.
Ralph swallowed, John was bloody well angry when he used that sweet tone. “Because I was not told, sire,” he replied steadily. “I would have informed you immediately, as you know.”
John was contemplating his gold cup. “I would have Burton champion me. You will relay the order, Ralph. I want Burton bearing my colors at the tourney. If he and de Lohr fight side by side, they will tear through the other participants like a knife through butter and there will be no chance to fell de Lohr.”
“Burton will not fell de Lohr, sire,” Ralph said frankly. “You know that as well as I.”
John’s head came up. “As my champion he will do as he is ordered.”
Ralph sighed. “Sire, I am forced to remind you that de Lohr commands the fighting men, as per Richard’s command.”
John suddenly slammed his fists on the table. “But knights are of a different breed. They are not commanded as the common troops.”
“But they fall under the same provision,” Ralph argued back. “Knights are sworn above all to the king, which means de Lohr has command of their loyalty.”
John threw his cup, standing up so fast that his chair fell over. His ugly face was red with fury.
“How is it that a lowly baron commands all of the fighting men in England?” he seethed. “I am a prince! I command England and England cowers at my feet, as it should. Now get out of here and do my bidding. Bring me de Lohr’s slut, and then find Burton and inform him of his new duties.”
Ralph bowed slowly, eyeing his liege as he quit the room. John, his nostrils flaring with humiliation and anger, forced himself to calm. He picked up his chair and sat slowly, forcibly.
All would be right, eventually, he told himself. To be rid of de Lohr at this point was his primary goal, and rule of England second. And, hopefully, the Lion’s Claw’s wife would provide an easy end to her husband’s claim.
*
Sir Thomas Dudley was in a panic.
It was all he could do to keep from running full-bore to the tournament arena where he knew Christopher would be. As it was, he was jogging at a rapid pace in spite of nearly one hundred pounds worth of armor. Sweat dotted his dark brow.
The arena to the east of the castle was crowded with knights on horseback, men on foot, practicing for the approaching games. It was a vast area with newly built lists that men were still hammering on. Dud immediately spied David’s blond head on the opposite side of the arena near the horse corrals, and ran straight to him.
David was with Edward, Leeton and young Trent. It was obvious they had been practicing heavily, coated with perspiration, and now stood at rest before the next bout. When Dud came racing up, crashing into the fence in his haste, all of the men looked at him with alarm.
“Dud!” David exclaimed sharply. “Why aren’t you with Dustin?”
Dud was beside himself. “Where’s the baron?”
David grabbed him. “He is by the barracks. Answer me, dammit, is something wrong?”
Dud’s faded green eyes focused on David. “Sir Ralph came for Lady Dustin not fifteen minutes ago with an entire company of soldiers. He was polite, but there was no mistaking the message he gave me; turn the lady over to him or the soldiers would seriously disable me. I had no choice, David.”
“Jesus Christ,” David hissed even as Leeton took off for the barracks on a dead run. “Why didn’t you go with her?”
“Think about it,” Dud said, as he removed his helmet and threw it to the ground in anger. “If I did, then there would be no one to inform Christopher of what had happened. And if I had refused to let the lady go with him, then I would probably now be drowning in my own blood, which brings us back to my first point. Someone had to tell Chris.”
David understood and paced about like a caged animal. There was naught else to do but wait for his brother. He knew better than anyone that Ralph was a dead man.
Christopher and Marcus crossed the compound and headed toward the castle faster than anyone had ever seen men run in armor. David and the others, seeing them running in the distance with Leeton trying to keep pace, ran after them. The group came together just as they were entering a side gate.
“Chris,” David called as his brother charged into the inner courtyard. “What are you going to do?”
Christopher was so angry he was white. He stopped running long enough to collect himself and catch his breath, facing his six faithful knights.
“I am going to find her first, and then I am going to kill Ralph,” he said evenly.
“I was under the impression that he took her to the prince, my lord,” Dud said. “I am truly sorry to have failed you in this.”
“You didn’t fail me, Dud,” Christopher said shortly. “To have gotten yourself killed would have been to fail me. I have no doubt my wife can hold her own against the prince until I get there.”
He turned and charged headlong into the castle with the knights behind him, creating a chaotic scene as they raced down the halls, nearly running people down in their haste. Soldiers on guard saw the Lion’s Claw running and began joining their liege. By the time Christopher mounted the massive staircase leading to the second floor, there were no less than fifty soldiers following him. Had he not been so concerned for his wife, he would have been pleased with the show of loyalty.
John’s apartments were in the royal wing. Christopher and his men blew past the honor guard, who made a feeble attempt to stop them but went ignored. They tore up the fragile woolen carpets that led to John’s chambers. Marcus and David barked orders to the soldiers to cover the exits and to position themselves. Christopher, without a word, kicked in the prince’s door.
He burst into the room, having no idea what he would find. He was therefore completely shocked to see his wife sitting opposite John, a goblet of wine in her hand and a plate of sugared confections between them.
Dustin’s half-full goblet clattered to the floor, splashing out its contents. He could see by her face that he had scared the hell out of her, but no matter. He knew John and knew what the man was capable of, and he was vastly relieved to see that she was untouched in any way.
“Chris!” she exclaimed. “What did you do?”
He ignored her and faced off against John. “Why is my wife here, unescorted?”
John sat back easily in his chair, a thin smile on his lips. “We are enjoying one another’s company, baron. Certainly there is no harm in that. And in answer to your question, my apartments are full of soldiers willing to protect a young woman’s virtue.”
Christopher was having a difficult time controlling himself. He walked over to his wife, his gaze never leaving the prince. Dustin, confused and a little frightened, watched his movements anxiously. When he stood next to her, he finally tore his eyes away from John long enough to look her over.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I am fine,” she said, a timid smile on her lips. “The prince and I were talking of my father, and….”
“Get up, Dustin. We’re leaving,” Christopher said abruptly, grasping her by the arm and pulling her to her feet.
Stunned, Dustin obeyed silently, allowing her husband to pull her toward the door.
John stood up. “But I am not finished with her yet. Could you come back in an hour?”
From out of the walls there suddenly appeared several soldiers of the prince’s speci
al guard. They were elite troops, mostly mercenaries, and Christopher had no command over them. They followed the prince and the prince’s money.
“Tell your cockroaches to fade back into their hovels, John,” Christopher said lowly. “I have six knights and nearly one hundred soldiers out in the hall that say your conversation with my wife is concluded.”
Dustin heard what was going on, yet did not fully understand the gravity of the situation. As Christopher took her to the door, she felt hands reach out and take her from him protectively. She glanced up to see Marcus’ grim face, and then her husband was partially blocked from view by David’s muscular body.
John was up and walking as if to show them to the door. Christopher never made a move to put his hand on the hilt of his sword, but the rest of his knights did. Honestly, Dustin was as confused as hell because the prince had been cordial and polite toward her. Why was everyone so deadly serious that she leave the room with a massive escort?
“I enjoyed our talk, my lady, even if it was cut short,” John said, craning his neck to get a look at her. “And I would ask a favor of you, if you would be so gracious to grant me. We are holding a tournament in two days, as I am sure you have been made aware, and I would be honored if you would dispense with the trophies for the winners.”
Dustin was flattered but before she could reply, Christopher spoke.
“She will not,” Christopher said flatly. “She is my wife, not some whore issuing favors to the fortunate. Find another slut to do your work.”
“Chris,” she said, tugging at him. “I would like to do it.”
He didn’t react, but John’s face lit up. “There? You see? She will do it. Oh, de Lohr, do not be so selfish. Allow the less fortunate to gaze upon this rare and precious beauty. ’Twill make the men fight harder if they know they are to receive a kiss from such an angel for their efforts.”
“Nay,” Christopher repeated firmly.
“Yes,” Dustin countered, pulling away from Marcus’ iron grip. She shoved David aside and moved away from the knights before anyone could grab her. Angrily, she faced off against her husband. “I do not understand your rudeness. What he has asked of me is a great honor, and I should like to do it.”
The de Lohr Dynasty Page 30