Christopher chuckled. “Do not you dare. I am pleased that they are proving to be a thorn in your arrogant side.”
“Arrogant,” David choked. “Now look who’s calling me arrogant. Jesus, out of the mouth of the man who invented the term.”
They grinned at each other, watching the fire burn in comfortable silence. Boot falls caught their attention and they both looked through the flames to see Marcus appearing out of the darkness.
“Posts are secured, my lord,” he told Christopher formally.
Christopher nodded slightly. “Very good.”
Marcus gave a slight bow and turned on his heel, but Christopher stopped him. He did not know why he should, but somehow, it just wasn’t right for them to hate each other. It was as if the earth was out of balance, or the stars out of alignment. It was unnatural and went against the grain. With everything that had happened, he still yearned for his friend.
“You did not eat,” he said.
Marcus’ face was unreadable. “I wasn’t hungry.”
Christopher sighed. “Will you join us?”
Marcus’ eyes widened a bit and he eyed David. “Nay, my lord, I do not think so.”
Christopher sat on the log behind him and rested his ankle on his knee. “Sit down, Marcus.”
David took his own seat, not looking at Marcus. Marcus looked at the two brothers, once his very best friends, and he, too, yearned for the way things had once been. But there was so much hurt and anger in his heart that it was difficult to see past it. Yet he could see that Christopher was making some sort of effort to be civil, and he decided to reciprocate. But he wondered if David was hiding a dagger in his belt with his name on it.
Slowly, he lowered his big body onto an upturned log and sat stiffly, his hands clasped in front of him. Harold growled threateningly at him and Christopher admonished the dog sternly.
“Have you seen your father since you have returned?” Christopher asked.
Marcus shook his head. “Nay, even though Leicester is less than a day from Somerhill,” he said. “The last I heard of my father the earl, he and his new wife were busy on a family of their own. He has no time for his second son from his first wife.”
“What of your brother? Surely you have seen him?” Christopher asked.
“My brother, the monk?” Marcus said with some contempt. “The man will inherit the earldom when my father dies and doesn’t know a damn thing about running it. As far as I know, he’s still at Westminster. I did not even see him when I was in London.”
Christopher looked at him a moment before staring back into the flames. It began to occur to him that Marcus felt alone in the world, abandoned by his father and forgotten by his brother. He had no one at all, which was probably why he was so determined to hang on to Dustin. He needed the security of a family from her desperately, and Christopher wondered if he was even aware of it.
“Tell me something, Marcus,” he said after a moment. “Are you so resolved to keep Dustin because you love her or because you have no family ties whatsoever? Is she and Christin your ready-made family or are they the love of your life?”
Marcus’ features grew dark. “How in the hell can you ask me that? I told you once and I shall tell you again – I love her.”
Christopher kept calm; he truly wasn’t trying to rile Marcus, but simply help him think. “It could not be because your mother died when you were young and your father deposited you on the Earl of Derby when you were five? You have never had the closeness or strength of a woman or a family as I have. Is she somehow filling a role for you, a role you have forced upon her whether or not she is willing?”
Marcus stood up, his big fists clenched. “To hell with you,” he snared. “How dare you judge me.”
David sighed heavily and shook his head. Christopher glanced at his brother, pleased that he was keeping his calm but knowing it was difficult for him.
“I am not judging you,” he said softly. “I did not mean to upset you, Marcus. I am just trying to understand. Please sit and we shall speak no more about it.”
Marcus did not sit, but he did not leave, either. “How dare you probe me, Chris,” he hissed. “How dare you try and analyze my actions. By what right?”
“’Tis my right because it is my wife you married,” Christopher reminded him.
Marcus’ jaw ticked. “And my daughter she bore.”
“You bastard.” David could hold still no longer. He snarled at Marcus. “You are the most….”
“Shut up, David.” Christopher cut his brother off, returning his gaze to Marcus with less calm than before. “If she is your child, kindly explain how it is she looks like me?”
“We all see what we want to see,” Marcus said quietly. “You see yourself, and I see me. But I know without a doubt that she is my flesh and blood.”
“Wishful thinking,” David snapped. “She’s not your child, Marcus. She is as much your daughter as Dustin is your wife, which is not at all.”
“Stay out of this, David,” Marcus warned. “This does not concern you.”
“The hell it doesn’t!” David snarled. “Anything that concerns Chris concerns me. I should have spilled your guts when I had the chance.”
“You never had the chance,” Marcus said smoothly. “If you recall, I was winning our bout when Richard separated us. If anyone’s guts were to be spilled, it would have been yours.”
“Arrogant son-of-a-bitch,” David rumbled. “Jesus, Marcus, what has Chris ever done to you that you would try and destroy his life?”
Marcus stopped in his tracks. He was preparing for an all-out verbal fight with the two brothers when David’s words suddenly struck him. Faltering, he turned away from the two of them because he honestly could not reply. He never thought of the situation in that context; what had Christopher ever done? My God, was he being vindictive for the fact that Christopher had earned a greater reputation, or had found more favor with the king, and he did not even realize it? Confusion swept him.
“Is…is that what it looks like? That I am seeking some sort of revenge?” he murmured, turning back around to face Christopher. “That I am out to destroy you?”
Christopher just looked at him, not replying. Marcus had asked the question with such bewilderment that it was difficult not to feel his honesty. The white-hot tension that had surrounded them was draining away and even David began to relax.
“What do you think?” David said earnestly. “Of course it looks like you are trying to take everything away from my brother. His wife, his child, his life… why, Marcus? Did he wrong you somehow?”
Marcus shook his head vehemently, his puzzlement overwhelming. “Nay,” he breathed. “I am not trying to punish him for a wrong against me. We just happen to love the same woman.”
Christopher sighed, leaning forward with his arms resting on his knees. “Marcus, she is my wife and Christin is my daughter. Your marriage to her is void anyway because I was alive when you married her. She was never your wife, and she was always mine.” He looked up at him. “I have tried to be patient, I have tried to become angry, I have threatened you, and I have fought you. Dustin has even told you that she doesn’t want you. What will it take, then, for you to leave us in peace?”
Marcus, a man of considerable pride, lowered his gaze uncertainly. Everything that was said, albeit unpleasant, made sense even to him. He did not want to admit it, any of it, but it was clear even to him that he was in the wrong. As if a fog had lifted and revealed a scene as clear as heaven itself, he suddenly realized how very terrible he had been.
But, God, he loved her. His motives had always been very sincere toward Dustin; he simply loved her. But David’s words, Christopher’s words, seeped into his brain and even as he tried to fight off their meaning, his common sense and moral character could not deny their correctness. They were right; they had always been right, and he had been selfish and absorbed. He had been right when he told Christopher that both of them saw what they wanted to see. He only saw
his love for Dustin and completely disregarded her feelings, as well as Christopher’s. Only his wants had mattered to him because he was used to having his desires fulfilled.
But Dustin did not want him; she had told him that but he had chosen to believe that he could make her love him if he tried hard enough. Mayhap for the first time in his life Marcus realized he could not manipulate the situation to his advantage. With a stab of pain to his chest, he realized that he had indeed been self-indulgent and ignorant. God help him, he did not want to let her go, but as much as he loved her, he knew he had to.
His strength drained from his body and he collapsed on the upturned log. He stared into the flames of the pyre for an endless amount of time, weary and defeated.
“I love her,” he murmured slowly. “I was blinded by her beauty, her innocence, her charm. She made me forget all that I am and all that I stand for, and I will tell you now that I am deeply ashamed to admit my guilt. I took it for a game, at first, but my obsession with her grew and I could not control it.” He looked up at Christopher’s sad eyes. “I will not fight you for her anymore, Chris. I can see now that I have already done enough damage.”
David was shocked to see Marcus fold so quickly. He blinked at his brother, whose expression was one of sorrow.
“I trusted you once and you betrayed me,” Christopher said hoarsely. “I am having difficulty believing you.”
“No doubt,” Marcus said with defeat. “I could swear to you on the Bible, but I think mayhap even that would not be strong enough. If I swear to you on my oath as a knight, will you believe me?”
Christopher looked at the fire, not wanting to doubt Marcus’ oath, for the man was the best knight in the realm. But he was bitter and weary and tired of deceit.
“Mayhap in time,” he whispered. “Mayhap your actions will speak louder than words.”
Marcus was bewildered and frustrated, at himself, at everything. “I am not completely guilty in all of this,” he said. “You proved to be spiteful and irrational, too. If there is any betrayal to be felt, I should be allowed a small portion.”
Christopher’s head came up. “What are you talking about?”
“In London, Chris. Do you remember how crazed jealous you were when I was around your wife? We had done absolutely nothing at that time, yet you were wild with envy,” Marcus reminded him.
“You had kissed her,” Christopher returned.
Marcus threw up his hands. “An innocent taste, I swear to you. I felt nothing for her at the time. It was, as I said – a game. My feelings for her followed shortly thereafter.”
Christopher let out a laborious sigh. “I do not know, Marcus. I just do not know what to think or believe anymore.”
Marcus watched his former friend as he stared at his hands. “Do you know that even after I married her, she refused to take your wedding rings off?” he said. “I am not daft, Chris. I knew she did not love me, but I hoped with time that things would change. And they would have, but with you returned, even I know that there is no hope.”
With that, Marcus stood up walked away, leaving Christopher drained and David astonished.
“Do you think he is sincere?” David asked.
Christopher ran a hand through his hair. “Oh, hell, David, I do not know,” he sighed heavily. “I would like to hope so, but he has lied to me before where Dustin was concerned. I will not allow myself to be sucked in again. We shall just have to wait and see.”
David puffed out his cheeks and sat down, shaking his head in wonder. He never thought he would live to see the day when Marcus Burton backed down from anything. Surprisingly, he wasn’t leery as his brother was.
He believed him.
On the morrow, the siege of Nottingham Castle commenced and the Defender, after a long and drawn-out battle, triumphed over Prince John and reclaimed his family.
*
The day after the siege of Nottingham, the grounds surrounding the castle were muddy and desolate, with smoke from smoldering cooking fires still rising in the damp morning air as Richard’s army organized the dead and wounded for the return home.
David was already prepared to depart. He hadn’t suffered any injury during the battle, which had been an overwhelming thing with so many crown troops and the king in the midst of it.
Truthfully, David was satisfied with the entire event and pleased that his brother had managed to reclaim is wife and daughter. Both Dustin and Christin were unharmed and even now, they were still sleeping in Christopher’s tent as Christopher, awake and going about his duties, made sure to tell the men to keep their voices down and steer clear of his tent. Dustin, whom he had discovered to be pregnant with their second child, was sleeping the sleep of the dead with her daughter cradled against her.
Nottingham was back in Richard’s hands now, with John and the Sheriff of Nottingham having escaped Richard’s nets. They were on the run with a small portion of their mercenary army, as nearly half of that army had been decimated in the siege and conquest of the castle. There were a lot of enemy dead laying around, giving the air a rotten stench that mixed with the smoke, and Richard had his prisoners of war collect the bodies of their colleagues for burial in a mass grave outside of the castle.
The armies were preparing to depart, the dead were being buried, and everything had happened as it should. David couldn’t have been more grateful or relieved. Now, he was looking forward to returning home to his wife. It was all he could think of as he packed the remainder of his belongings.
“Greetings, David.”
David turned around at the sound of the voice and was faced with a sight he never thought he’d see again. Brickley was standing behind him, looking weary and beaten. Their eyes met, they gazed at one another, and a brittle peace filled the air between them. Old friends, now enemies, but evidently still comrades in arms.
It was difficult to describe the moment.
“Brick?” David said, astonished. “I did not know you were here. Where did you come from?”
Brickley smiled weakly. “I am with East Anglia’s army these days,” he said. “We were holding the bridge while you and the rest of Richard’s knights gained entrance.”
In that brief explanation, David realized he was glad to see the man. He didn’t know why, but he was. Maybe it was because he and Brickley had been friends long before the situation with Emilie. David had always known Brickley to be a wise and noble knight. But maybe he was in a position to be magnanimous because he had emerged the victor in the battle for Emilie’s heart. Whatever the case, he was genuinely glad to see the man. When Brickley had left Canterbury without telling anyone, David felt as if there was something left open between them. Good or bad, it needed to be dealt with. He needed some closure.
Now was his chance.
“You and your men held it well,” David said. “I should have guessed someone you like was in charge. Are you well, then? Did you suffer any injury?”
Brickley shook his head. “I did not,” he said. “In fact, my son is here somewhere, too. He came with Barnwell and Lord Huston. He is only fifteen but I am told he actually fought with a sword when the gatehouse was breached and the mercenaries began fleeing. I saw him after the battle and I swear to you that you have never seen a happier lad. I think he killed someone.”
David laughed softly. “I have never met your son,” he said. “But if he is anything like is father, I am sure he will be a fine knight.”
Brickley nodded, feeling rather awkward with the conversation. He didn’t even know why he had approached David, but he had. Mayhap it was because David reminded him of something he missed very much – Canterbury. Maybe it was because he, too, felt as if he needed some closure. He and David had been friends, once. But much had happened, on both sides, to damage that. After a moment, he forced a smile.
“Well,” he said, starting to back away. “I am glad to hear that your brother’s death was misreported. I saw him earlier and even spoke to him. But I wanted to tell you that I am glad he i
s not dead.”
He was turning to leave and David stopped him. “Wait,” he said. “Brick… I am not going to ask you why you left Canterbury, for I know. But in hindsight, I wish you hadn’t. Lyle misses you. He was very fond of you, you know. I wish you felt as if you could have stayed. I would have done my best to ensure there was peace between us.”
Brickley cleared his throat softly, feeling embarrassed now that the touchy subject of his departure had been introduced.
“I am sure you will understand when I say that I couldn’t stay and watch the woman I had once loved marry another man,” he said. He shrugged weakly. “There was a war between us, a war over Emilie, and you won. To the victor goes the spoils. But I didn’t want to stay and watch you claim your prize.”
David nodded. “I understand,” he said. “I really do. I am simply sorry that you and I could not maintain a friendship through this all.”
Brickley shook his head. “Our friendship as knights and colleagues is still there in spite of everything,” he said. His pale eyes twinkled. “I cannot say that I would hoist an ale with you any time soon, but as an ally, I will be there for you. I… I did not mean it when I said I should have let Dennis de la Londe kill you. I do regret that.”
David waved him off. “We say things in the heat of the moment that do not mean anything,” he said. “I always assumed that was one of those times. Besides, Dennis died in the siege. I saw his body in the castle.”
Brickley turned to look at the dark-stoned castle behind the, torn up by the ravages of the siege. “Is that so?” he said, mildly surprised. “Then this battle accomplished two good things – reclaiming your brother’s wife and the death of de la Londe. The man was an evil bastard.”
“Indeed he was.”
Brickley’s gaze lingered on the castle a little while longer before returning his focus to David, who was looking at him rather intently. Feeling awkward again, Brickley scratched at his bearded face and began to move away.
“Give my regards to Lyle and his daughters,” he said. “And to your wife. I am assuming that Emilie is your wife by now.”
The de Lohr Dynasty Page 157