“It is so,” Uncle John said firmly. He took Sir Chris’s free hand. Sir Chris had never let go of mine, and I was glad. “You are my son. You were dead, but now you are alive. You were lost, and are found. Praise the Lord God of heaven. You are my son Richard. The whole world shall know it.”
Sir Chris sank down on one knee beside the bed. “I turned my back on you and our name when I left home,” he said in a broken voice. “I dishonored you. I brought about this ruin, almost caused your death and that of the Lady Ada and Lady Hope, by not being here to fulfill my duty to protect our name and place. I could not wear that name again until I had done the will of God and earned back what I cast aside so long ago. Now that God has allowed me to see you again, and know that you are safe, and have forgiven me, I need nothing more.”
“Nothing more?” Uncle John said with a chuckle. “You are still holding the Lady Hope’s hand. May I assume that perhaps you meant nothing more except my blessing on what I blessed before she was born?”
“Aye, father, there is that,” Sir Chris – Oh, I must write Richard, now, though it seems so strange – said with that dear smile made crooked by the spear cut.
“We must be sure the lady still means what she said, now that she knows you are the living personage of that despised and hated image she has dreaded marrying all these years,” laughed Uncle John. “What say you, my lady? Will you still have your Sir Chris, knowing that he is that withered old man you vowed you would never tie yourself to?”
I knelt beside Richard and lowered my head. “Do not mock me, please, my lord,” I begged. “Yes, yes, I will marry him, be he ever so old and ever so much the man I once thought I despised.” I flashed Richard a look and got one back, so piercing and yet so loving I blushed anew. Richard stumbled up onto his feet. I steadied him with the quickness of comradely habit, but then as quickly withdrew my hand, fearing to shame him by exposing his weakness to his father. Uncle John’s quick eyes did not miss the grimace of pain that crossed Richard’s face, though, as he unbent himself.
“You were greatly taxed freeing me, and in that battle with Hugo Brun,” Uncle John said. “Has the doctor seen you?”
“Aye, father, and he cannot find the new hurts in the mass of old,” Richard said wryly. “I hope…” He stopped and smiled at me as he always did when he said that word. “I hope I am done taxing this poor old withered body for now. Oh, I did not err, did I, my lord? A priest tried to force his way in along with the doctor and I sent him off.”
“What priest?” the baron asked.
“He was ... a friar, Friar Patrick of Colchester, I think he said,” Richard replied.
“You must have him called back, then,” the baron said. “We will have need of his services.”
“Need of the services of a priest, father?” Richard said, baffled.
“This priest is a friend,” the baron smiled. “And a student of the Word. I had quite neglected our studies together when Lady Ada and Hope came to live here. But he is a believer, and will wed you as God intends, not as the church dictates. After all, we must see you and the Lady Hope joined at once if this hall is to have its proper master and mistress.”
After Richard and I had done blushing and stammering and my uncle had laughed at us and asked what need there was for delay, Friar Patrick was indeed summoned back. He blushed and stammered too, and talked about proprieties and forms and Uncle John, who was smiling so much more than I had ever seen him do, shushed him and told him to be about his real and proper business. Then and there, Richard and I were married in the baron’s presence.
“It is done, then,” said Uncle John. He placed his hand atop our clasped ones and recited the Old Testament Jewish blessing. “Benedicat tibi Dominus et custodiat te ostendat Dominus faciem suam tibi et misereatur tui convertat Dominus vultum suum ad te et det tibi pacem.”
“‘The Lord give you happiness and make you secure; the Lord make his face shine upon you and give you grace; the Lord turn his face toward you and grant you peace.’
“This is what I have lived my life for. God was good to let me see this come to pass. These my dearest ones converted, together and happy.”
After the priest had gone, Richard walked stiffly around the room, looking out the windows to distract himself from his pain. I came close to Uncle John and spoke rapidly in a low voice. “My lord, you must know all that Richard has suffered,” I said. “He was tortured by that man Hugo Brun in the Holy Lands. He was dragged almost to death by horses. You cannot imagine how much it cost him just to come back here to us – and then to have to fight that man, and do all he did to save us – Oh, if only you had seen his poor scarred back and how much he aches and how he cannot sleep sometimes for the nightmares and the pain ...”
“What tales are you telling, my lady?” Richard demanded, stumping up behind me and cutting off my whispered words.
“Only singing your praises, my son,” Uncle John assured him, squeezing my hand and nodding to me. “You have surely taught this sharp-tongued magpie to sing the sweet songs of the lark. You have taught her to love, to be unselfish, to be a marvel of modest womanhood.”
“Father, I have done nothing,” Richard laughed. “I only told her what you always told me, and she listened to it.”
“We must let you rest now,” I said to the baron.
“Aye, of course. We shall go now,” Richard agreed hastily.
“We shall dine together tomorrow,” Uncle John vowed.
“Whatever you wish, father,” Richard said. He put his arm around me – oh, that great, comforting arm – and drew me away to the edge of the dais.
“You may see to Baron Colchester now,” Richard said to the servants waiting below in the great hall. They looked at him as if he were some vagabond they need not take orders from.
“This is Lord Richard,” I said sharply. “He has come home. I am sure the Baron of Colchester would not be pleased to see you hesitate to obey him, especially since he is my husband and lord of the manor by the baron’s command.”
“Sir Richard?” gasped one of the maids, bowing low. “Your pardon, my lord. That old one told us, but we did not believe it …” They scurried past us to tend to Uncle John.
“I am not used to that,” grumbled Richard, wincing as he took a step down into the great hall and approached the fire.
“Being slighted by servants?” I asked, following him. “We shall soon stop that.”
“Being treated respectfully by them,” Richard said with a wry smile. “Or by anyone else. It does not pay to frankly tell people that you have disgraced the family name. You know how Gil was with me.”
“I was at first too, you know,” I reminded him. “But I learned better. Now everyone will know who you really are, and you will find they shall honor you as much as they do Baron Colchester.”
“Does it make a difference to you, now that you know?” Richard asked. “I wanted to tell you so many times. At first I was sure you would call me a liar. Then you spoke of the betrothal, and those fool things I wrote, and I knew I could never tell you. Even after I knew you did not think me a disgusting old man anymore, I kept silent. But in truth, my love, it stunned me that you did not puzzle it out. Why else would I be here, except if it was Baron Colchester to whom I had come for a father’s forgiveness?”
Again I felt the heat rise in my face. “I feel such a fool,” I said. “I knew three men, and all of them were you, and still I was too stupid to understand it. But, truly, it only matters because I know now that I have fulfilled Uncle John’s wish instead of going against him as I always used to. I am so very, very glad to be over doing that.”
Richard put his hands on my shoulders and kissed my forehead. “I am glad of that too.” He drew me close and gave me a real kiss this time, and I felt lost in the wonder of it for a long time. Finally he tried to release me but I did not draw back.
“I must go and tell my mother,” I murmured into his blood-red tunic. “She will be so amazed, and disappointed not to
have seen us wed.”
“Go and tell her,” Richard said. “She can plan a real wedding when the hall is repaired, if it pleases her. But for now, give her what news you will and then come back to me.”
“You must rest,” I protested. “I can see the old wounds pain you, and the new as well. Go and sleep, and remember that we will never be apart again.”
Richard sighed. “So be it,” he said, very reluctantly. “I have been your true knight all this time, and I will not begin disobeying your commands now.”
I almost tripped over something lying by the hearth. “Why, look, here is your traveling bundle. How did it get here from the cot?” I pulled out his sheepskin and draped it around his shoulders.
“I cannot say,” Richard said, genuinely puzzled. “I found it here, and was glad I could get my tunic and wear it as Tahira bade me, when I saw my father. Sadaquah! I must make inquiries after him. What can have become of him? What if the Earl’s soldiers wounded or killed him, and he is lying somewhere?” He looked around and gave orders to some servants.
“Richard, you will not go searching for him yourself,” I said, seeing the dissatisfied look in his eyes. “You cannot go yourself.” He sagged, defeated but still anxious. “We will get word to Lord Godwin,” I proposed. “His men will not rest until Sadaquah is found. Surely he is safe and well somewhere. Go and rest, please. Pray and God will bring Sadaquah here to us.”
I watched him limp up to the solar. Old Simon came up behind me and I seized him by the arm. Godwin’s men and I had tried to get him to rest earlier but he was not having any of that. I knew how happy he would be to serve “the young lord” again so I wanted to be the first to tell him Richard was home.
“Simon, make haste and see to Lord Richard’s needs,” I ordered him. “Do not let him want for any comfort, and make the doctor come and look carefully at him, even if he tries to refuse.”
I expected his pale, watery blue eyes to bug out in surprise. Instead Simon smiled gently at me as he had always done when I said something stupid, childish and completely unnecessary.
“I have already given instructions,” Simon said. “I knew it was Lord Richard, even when he came that night … the night the Frenchman came.”
“You knew?” I said. “Oh, Simon, what a world of trouble it might have saved if only you could have made us know the truth.”
Richard had heard Simon’s voice and turned back then. He approached and the old man fell down on his knees.
“Forgive me, my lord,” he wept. “I would have told if I had been able.”
“What, old man?” Richard said fondly, drawing the seneschal to his feet and folding him up in a bear hug. “Did you presume to defy both me and my stupid vow?”
I could hear poor Simon’s bones crack but he only smiled broadly through his tears. “I cared nothing for your vow,” he said brokenly. “I tried to persuade my lady Ada but she did not believe. She forbade me to tell the baron. I could not disobey her.”
“He kept your room all these years, Richard,” I said. “He said it was just as you left it.”
“This old saint was nursemaid, teacher, playfellow and all to me,” Richard chuckled. “I felt worse about leaving him than I did my father. I could not even write about him in my diary. I felt so deeply that whatever else I had done in my pride and arrogance, I had been wrong in giving grief to old Simon.”
Together they ambled off to Richard’s private chamber, soon to be mine as well, for I could see that Richard had told Simon the news. The old man looked back at me and I saw that I would have to prove to him that I was worthy of his young master. For once I was glad to have such a challenge, and I prayed to be able to rise to the standard of this exacting, loving old man.
I hurried back to my mother. The doctor was just leaving her. He assured me she would recover and begged me not to disturb her too much. I feared I was going to do just that, but it could not be helped. She seemed to be asleep when I came round the temporary screen. I sat down on the end of her bed and waited, drinking in the sight of her, safe in her own bed, though she was still so pale and gaunt. Her eyelids fluttered and she looked fondly at me.
“My darling Hope. I have had the strangest dream,” she said as I moved closer. “I dreamed your cousin Richard had come home, and I turned him away.”
“Mother, you did,” I said. “Remember the tall stranger who came to the house just before Hugo Brun attacked us? It was Richard.”
“Oh, no, it could not have been,” mother whispered. “He terrified me. He would not tell me his name, or his business. His face was so dark and haggard, and that terrible scar…”
“Mother, it was Richard. It was my knight … the knight of the black lion. He rescued us all and killed Hugo Brun. My dear Sir Chris ... He is Richard, Uncle John’s son. And I love him, and Uncle John – Mother, we have already married.”
“It is too wonderful,” mother said. “How glad I am that he is alive, though. I must receive him at once. But how can he ever forgive me?”
“You will see him tomorrow, mother,” I soothed. “He must rest, and so must you. Do not think that he blames you, though. God oversaw everything, and all is well.”
I heard a commotion below and was met by servants saying a wild stranger demanded to see Lord Richard. They said they had caught him in the great hall before and driven him away, but that he had returned.
As I hurried out of the solar up sprang Sadaquah. I actually hugged him, and he forgot himself so far as to hug me back before his old Muslim reserve stiffened him back up again.
“Come and see your brother,” I cried, grabbing him by the hand and dragging him to Richard’s chamber. I almost laughed aloud to see Richard bending over the fireplace and tossing in the pink and gold garter I had found under his pillow but I decided not to mention it, seeing the flush that crept over Richard’s features as he turned and hid the shriveling object from my view with his body.
“Look, Sir Chris – I mean Richard! See who has appeared again!” I pulled Sadaquah up to my cousin. Richard lifted Sadaquah off his feet and swung him in a circle. Sadaquah squawked and spluttered in Arabic.
“Wagif!” he howled. “Stop!”
“Where did you go, Sadaquah?” Richard demanded. “I thought they had killed you.”
“I went to hurry justice along,” Sadaquah snapped, trying to settle his disordered robes. “I rode to meet the other lords a-coming too slowly and made them see there was much need for haste. You see I succeeded. Then I went to the hut in the woods to get our bundles, but when I came here no one would let me in.”
“You frightened them half to death,” I scolded. “They thought we were being attacked again.”
Sadaquah snorted. I left them together.
All the servants seemed to have discovered that I was the new mistress of the manor and I found myself scrambling to learn in a day all I had neglected for years, though my uncle’s enforced discipline had prepared me more than I realized, and old Simon was there by my side, more willing than I could have imagined to help me be worthy of his beloved Richard. I gave orders, fielded questions and complaints, oversaw the beginnings of cleaning and repair chores, and the day flew into darkness before I could look around and see that it was bedtime and a good deal past. I knew that Richard and Sadaquah had gone out to tramp the grounds and see where to begin the restoration process but I had not seen either of them for hours. Servants had carried around dinner trays to everyone where they could find them. It was so late when I approached Richard’s chamber that night.
I almost persuaded myself that he must have been sound asleep for some time. I stood by the entrance, once again wrestling with myself. I had to stop myself from returning to the trundle bed in my mother’s quarters.
It was my wedding night, I firmly told myself. I had formed any number of excuses for not going to Richard. I told myself how much he had been wounded. I reminded myself of his weariness. I almost convinced myself he should not be disturbed. And yet I found mys
elf at the door of his chamber. Our chamber. I stood there a long moment.
Sadaquah arose from beside the great hall fire and pressed something into my hand. “He says you are wed,” the young Arab said, looking a trifle skeptical as he handed me a beautifully ornamented jar. “And he says you will need to do this from now on.”
“What is this?” I asked, opening the jar. A rich, pungent scent escaped and Sadaquah saw that I suddenly knew what it was. He retreated back into his crouch in the flickering shadows without another word or look at me.
I took a deep breath and pushed past the draped temporary coverings in front of the bedchamber. Richard lay in the bed, huddled up as if he had no space to move. I sat down softly by his side and touched him.
He started and groaned aloud even at that slight movement. I was momentarily set back when I saw that he wore nothing beneath the covers, but I slid my fingers into the ointment and slowly, timidly began to massage it into his shoulder. The scent of it was the scent of my husband, and I gained confidence, avoiding the dressings on his wounds but making sure to try to soothe and loosen his rigidness.
I felt him relax beneath my touch, saw him gradually extend a leg, an arm, and finally lie at his full length and make a tired noise of pleasure. I found that sound to be my release as well, and I removed my gown and slipped into the bed beside him. Until that moment I was unsure whether he knew I was not his faithful friend who had no doubt done this duty of massaging away some of his pain for so many years, but when he drew me into his arms I knew he had just been waiting for me to finish and knew very well that I was not Sadaquah.
“My Hope,” he murmured into my ear. “My love. My wife.”
The next morning as I made breakfast preparations on the dais my mother came to join me, sweetly dressed in a pale yellow chemise and blue cotehardie. I had planned to send food round to everyone again, expecting all but Sadaquah to be invalids. Only Uncle John remained abed. As I conducted my mother to her usual place Richard and Sadaquah came to the trestle table, laughing and talking in Arabic. My mother stiffened at the sight of Richard. Richard halted also, seeing her and bringing up a hand to cover the scar that had frightened her that first night. “Well met, my lady,” he said gently.
Hope and the Knight of the Black Lion Page 17