“I know why you were fighting,” Richard said in a low voice. “I need no explanation. And from what I am told, it was a long time in coming. But I will tell you this now; I will hear of no more fighting between you two. There is no one in this world I am at peace with, including my brother, and I shall not stand for any goddamn fighting within my own ranks. I should like there to be just one minute measure of stability in my life right now, gentle knights. I should like it to start with my loyal warriors, or I swear I shall take Lady Dustin with me and keep her at Windsor if you two cannot make peace with each other. Is that understood?”
Marcus and David nodded simultaneously. “Aye, sire.”
“Good,” Richard exclaimed, eyeing them both critically. “I will ask one thing, however; who started it?”
David piped up before Marcus could speak. “I did, sire. I sought Marcus out.”
“David, you know better than to cause trouble.” Richard jabbed his finger at him. “Good Lord, you are just like your father. Hotheaded and aggressive. But I will tell you now, no more of it. Christopher, thank God, controlled himself better than most men and you should have learned from him. And Marcus; you are David’s superior officer. You should not have responded to his challenge.”
“I was given little choice, sire,” Marcus responded. “It was either defend myself or die.”
Richard shot David a withering look. “Get a hold of yourself, Sir Knight. Come to grips with your grief and the future will work itself out. It does not need your interference.”
David lowered his gaze, his jaw ticking. Marcus didn’t dare look at him, both of them feeling like naughty children being caught with their hand in the candy jar. Marcus didn’t hate David, but he hated the animosity he was creating. If David would only surmount his guilt and anger, he was sure his feelings would calm.
“Back to Canterbury with you on the morrow, de Lohr,” Richard said finally. “Go back and marry your Emilie and I will hear no more about you and Marcus Burton.”
“Aye, sire,” David said softly, bowing as he quit the hall.
Marcus passed a glance at Richard when David was gone, waiting to be dismissed also but surprised to find Richard staring at him.
“Do you love her, Marcus?” he asked softly. “Is she worth dying for?”
“Without a doubt, sire,” Marcus replied. “I love her with all my heart.”
Richard held his gaze a moment longer before shaking his head in resignation. “What is it about this woman? The two greatest knights who have ever lived love her, and I am frankly astonished. Why, Marcus? What makes her different?”
Marcus shrugged. “I can only tell you why I love her, sire, not why Christopher did. She is beautiful, innocent, compassionate, and spirited. She is everything a woman should be.”
Richard absorbed the answer, lowering his gaze to the tabletop. The seconds ticked away with deafening silence, but Marcus knew the conversation wasn’t over yet.
“Marcus, with Christopher gone, I am in need of a champion. Will you do this for your king?”
Marcus stared back at Richard a moment, unsure of what he had just heard. But the realization of it hit him and his eyes widened a bit. “You want me as your champion?” he repeated.
“You are the best knight in the realm; even David has acknowledged that,” Richard said. “I need you, I need your strength. Will you do this?”
Marcus did not know what to say. Being Richard’s champion was his lifelong ambition. God, how long had he yearned to hear that question asked of him? A lifetime, a bloody lifetime, but he found now he could not positively respond to it. Being Richard’s champion would mean living in London, away from his keep. Aye, Dustin would be with him, but he wouldn’t want her to bear the scandal that would surely fall upon her shoulders. All who would see her would think that she certainly did not wait long to fall into Marcus’ arms after the death of her husband. Nay, he could not allow Dustin to go through that.
Being Richard’s champion would mean fighting his battles at his side, as Christopher had done. And Christopher was now dead. Marcus knew Dustin could not bear to be a widow twice in one lifetime, and he decided at that moment that living his life with her within the safety of his compound was greater glory than living by the sword as Richard’s right hand. He could hardly believe he was about to turn his king down.
“Were you told that I agreed to champion John once?” Marcus asked quietly.
Richard nodded. “For which you received Somerhill. A clever ploy to gain lands, Marcus. I will admit it and it’s understandable. Yet I also know that you met with an unfortunate accident and were unable to champion my brother, but still you managed to retain your baronetcy.”
Marcus lifted his eyebrows. “I oft wondered how you would react to such knowledge, sire,” Marcus replied. “Even as I agreed to it, I deemed it a most treasonous act. I am grateful that you do not see it as such.”
“We all do what we must in this life to gain our own ends,” Richard said. “I am certainly guilty enough of that. But tell me now; will you be my champion?”
“Sire, as honored as I am that you have asked this of me, I am saddened that I must refuse,” he replied steadily. “My single greatest desire in life is to return home with Lady Dustin and her child, and live my life fully.”
Richard gazed at him a moment before giving an ironic chuckle. “This woman intrigues me that she would cause you to give up everything you have worked for in life. You are a soldier, Marcus, the very best. You would give this all up for her?”
“Aye, I would.” Marcus met his eyes clearly.
Richard sighed heavily, scratching at his unkempt hair. “Amazing. Well, then, I suppose there is nothing more to say. Are you sure of this, Marcus?”
“Verily, sire,” Marcus replied.
The king scratched his head again and stood up, moving stiffly around the table and toward Marcus. Marcus met his monarch tall and straight and proud.
“Mayhap if Lady Dustin is so great, I should make her my queen,” Richard joked. “Or, better yet, send her to Philip Augustus and bring down the entire French Empire.”
Marcus smiled. “You’d have to fight me for her, sire.”
Richard guffawed loudly and slapped Marcus on the shoulder. “Will you at least answer the call to battle if I send for you, Marcus? Can I expect your assistance?”
“Of course, sire,” Marcus replied. “I shall always bear a sword for you when asked.”
“But you will not champion me,” Richard prodded gently.
“Nay, my lord,” Marcus replied regretfully.
Richard shrugged and slapped Marcus again. “I could but try once more. Well, it would seem I am forced to choose a champion again. Who would be worthy of me, I wonder?”
Marcus gave his opinion as the two of them wandered from the hall.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Christopher’s strength was slow in returning. It was a full week before he was able to sit up unassisted, greatly setting back his timetable for returning home. Marianne and Lizabetha tended him every day, making sure he was fed and comfortable, and he was deeply indebted to the both of them. He knew the way to reward Marianne would be to regain Rob’s keep, but he was at a loss how to thank Lizabetha. The girl was far gone in love with him and he would do nothing to encourage her.
During the fourth week after his injury, he got it in his mind to stand. He knew he must stand if he was ever going to completely recover, and he pestered Marianne until she covered her ears. Finally, to keep him quiet, she promised to ask Rob and Jonathan to help him when they returned from the hunt. Satisfied, Christopher let the matter rest.
But it did not last long. Rob and Jonathan were gone nearly the entire day and by late afternoon Christopher was antsy. Lizabetha sat with him, quietly doing her needlework in the corner when Christopher decided he was going to stand that very minute. Panicked, Lizabetha pleaded with him not to try it, but he ignored her. Finally, in desperation, she agreed to help him. He would
do it with or without her help, and she knew he could not do it alone. And besides, she did so want to be near him.
But it was a long, slow process. First, he sat up. When he felt strong enough, he braced himself against a stool and pushed himself onto his knees. Kneeling, he was as tall as Lizabetha and her eyes widened when she realized for the first time what a giant he was. After several long minutes of panting and resting before the next move, he flashed Lizabetha a triumphant smile and put one foot in front of him, so he was kneeling on one knee as if in a bow. Lizabetha wrung her hands nervously. She was excited and terrified at the same time.
Laboriously, Christopher tried to push himself up and Lizabetha instinctively grabbed hold of him. As soon as he tried to put his weight on his legs, he realized that his idea was not a good one and toppled back onto his pallet, taking Lizabetha with him. She fell on top of him, her light brown hair splaying and emitting a yelp of surprise. Christopher was concerned that he had hurt her somehow with the fall and started to voice his concerns when suddenly, she began kissing his face.
Light, quick, hot kisses peppered his left cheek and part of his chin before he grabbed hold of her and pulled her back. He opened his mouth to order her to cease, but her fingers went over his mouth and sweet, virginal Lizabetha turned into a squirming body of lust.
“I know it is wrong, my love, I know,” she whispered breathlessly. “But I have loved you from the very moment I lay eyes on you and I simply cannot help myself any longer. Please do not deny me, my sweet, powerful knight.”
“Lizabetha!” Christopher snapped as non-forcefully as he could, holding her at arm’s length. “My lady, you are correct when you say that your actions are wrong. As flattered as I am, I am afraid that I have a wife and babe, whom I adore. I cannot and will not carry on a liaison with you, child.”
“I am not a child!” Lizabetha insisted hotly. “I am a woman of flesh and blood, and I have never loved anything more in my life as I love you. I want to give myself to you fully, my love, my sweet, and I ask nothing in return. No one will know.”
He was at a distinct disadvantage. He was not tempted in the least, but she was pressing herself mightily and he knew from experience that a scorned female was a bitter, spiteful creature. He owed these people his very life and he was sorely pressed to reject her.
“Lizabetha, listen to me,” he said calmly, gently pushing her off of him. “I am flattered, sweetheart, really, but I will not take advantage of you. Moreover, I love my wife and would do nothing to jeopardize our marriage. Someday when you have a husband of your own, you will understand. Be a good girl, now, and get me a drink of water. Please?”
Lizabetha pouted darkly. “Forget the bloody water,” she said dramatically. “I want you to take me, my lord, do away with this troublesome virginity. Take me or I shall surely kill myself.”
“Not before I kill you first!” Marianne ducked into the hut and Lizabetha screeched, pleading for her hide to be spared. “Leave us now, niece. I shall deal with you later.”
Lizabetha fled in terror and Marianne turned back to Christopher, her face flushed with dismay.
“My lord, I humbly beg your forgiveness for Lizabetha’s rashness,” she said, deeply ashamed. “She is young, sire, and….”
Christopher waved her off. “Say no more, my lady. I understand completely, although I must say I was a bit worried there for a moment,” he admitted. “You came in the nick of time; otherwise it might have been her word against mine.”
Marianne shook her head. “We all know Lizabetha has been smitten with you. We wouldn’t have believed anything she said if she had accused you of being less than chivalrous. I apologize for her again, my lord.”
He smiled at the woman’s embarrassment. “No need, my lady. No harm done, except to her feelings, mayhap.”
“The pain she is feeling in her heart now will be nothing compared to the pain of her blistered backside,” Marianne remarked. “A willful one, she is.”
Christopher thought of his wife and his smile went soft. “I have one of those on my hands, also. Stubborn, too.”
Marianne saw his expression and was touched by the love she saw in it. “Your wife? Surely not. A man of your station would have the most obedient, perfect wife in the realm.”
He laughed loudly. “My wife is the most willful, disobedient, frustrating woman God ever saw fit to create. I cannot count the times when we have fought over the simplest of things or the number of times I have wanted to blister her backside. Actually, I did on one occasion.”
Marianne looked dismayed, but he could see she was fighting off the giggles. “Say not so, my lord. Did you not know of her nature before you married her?”
“Nay.” Christopher relaxed on his pillow, thinking back. “I did not know her at all, although I knew her father well. Richard betrothed us and I had no choice but to marry her.”
Marianne could hear the adoration in his voice and she smiled. “How fortunate you married someone you could care for, my lord. These days, ’tis truly a miracle to be fond of your mate.”
Christopher eyed her. “Fond of her? Christ, I love the woman. Why do you think I am so desperate to return to her?”
Marianne touched his arm gently. “You shall, my lord. I promise you shall. Tell me of this woman, your wife. I am sure she is most beautiful.”
He closed his eyes, picturing Dustin. “She has blond hair that falls to her knees, silken, like spun gold. Her face is the most beautiful on this earth, and her eyes are the color of storm clouds. It’s an amazing shade of gray, which our daughter has inherited.”
“What’s her name?” Marianne asked.
“Dustin,” he said reverently. “Lady Dustin Mary Catherine de Lohr.”
“Dustin? An unusual name,” Marianne remarked “And your daughter? What is her name?”
“Christin,” he replied. “What a devil she is. Smart, too.”
Marianne was truly touched by this massive knight’s devotion to his family; he obviously adored them. Strange, she usually pictured knights as God-fearing warriors, bound only to themselves and to the king. But this man, Richard’s champion no less, had a definite love for something other than himself. The romantic, womanly part of her was fulfilled somehow and she envied Lady Dustin his devotion. Not that Rob was any less devoted to her and to their son, but he did not speak of them as Sir Christopher spoke of his family.
Later on that night, Lizabetha returned with his supper and he suppressed a grin; she refused to sit down or even look him in the eye as she tended him. Poor thing, he thought. Rejected and spanked all in one day. When he was finished with the rabbit stew, he thanked her politely and she nodded, backing out of the hut with as much dignity as she could muster. He waited until he was sure she was out of earshot before falling into a fit of giggles.
Rob and Jonathan descended on him after supper. They seemed very energetic and rousing, and he wondered why.
“I hear you wish to stand, my lord,” Jonathan said loudly. “God be praised. The sooner you are out of here, the sooner I get my bed back.”
Christopher raised his brows in agreement. “True enough, sirrah. But I will need both of your help to stand, I am afraid.”
Rob held out his hand to Christopher and he looked at it hesitantly. “Now?”
“Now,” said Rob. “No better time to start anything than now.”
With a shrug, Christopher allowed both men to take him by the arms and slowly, gently, pull him to stand. But Christopher was hunched over like a troll, breathing heavily and his knees wobbled like a newborn foal.
“This is not such a good thing,” he rasped. “I think I am going to be ill.”
“Nay, you are not,” Jonathan said firmly. “Just rest a moment; the sickness will pass.”
Christopher took several deep breaths and his stomach eventually calmed, but his torso was as sore as if he had been working it day and night for months on end. Shaking and gray, he gripped Rob and Jonathan tightly.
“Al
l right, then,” he whispered. “Let’s see how tall I can stand.”
By sheer force of willpower, he stood as straight and tall as if he had never been injured. Both men were astonished to see just how tall he truly was.
“A damnable giant, you are,” Jonathan boomed. “And I thought I was tall.”
Christopher laughed a soft, weak snort. “I feel as if I am on top of a tree, looking down. I’d gotten used to the view from the ground up.”
“Can you take a step?” Jonathan persisted.
“One thing at a time, Jon,” Rob admonished him. “The man is standing up for the first time in a month; give him time to adjust.”
Christopher cuffed Jonathan gently on the side of the head. “I promise I shall be out of your bed as soon as I can,” he said. “But right now, I think I would like to sit down again.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Marcus and Dustin left just after dawn. Bundled up against the cold, she rode Hercules out of the massive gates, tears stinging her eyes. David had left without a word before she had even awoken and her heart was saddened. She suspected that Marcus knew the reason, but she would ask him later. Now, as she left her home, was not the time.
Alexander, George, Caesar and Christin were huddled in a large, protected wagon, watched over by the wet nurse who would be doubling as Christin’s nursemaid. The woman was big and shy, and wet-nursing was her vocation since her youngest child was twelve. Dustin had found it hard to believe that the woman would like breastfeeding so much that she would continue it for years on end. But she loved Christin and Marcus felt comfortable with the woman, so he allowed her to accompany them to Somerhill.
Marcus had remarked that the wagon looked more like a zoo than a nursery, for the animals outnumbered the people, but Dustin insisted on taking all of her animals. Especially Caesar; he was old but she would not leave him behind as she had when she had left for London. She wanted her oldest friend with her, and she needed him now more than ever.
The de Lohr Dynasty: Medieval Legends: A Medieval Romance Collection Page 82