St. Paul still wasn’t convinced. “Perhaps we should return home. It is far more fortified than this pile of wood.”
Brovus nodded. “It would be wise, my lord.”
Devereux, pale and shaken, shook her head. “I will not leave,” she said quietly. “What if it is my husband returning? I must be here.”
Brovus spoke before the others. “I do not believe it is your husband, my lady,” he replied, somewhat gently. “If it was, my men would have recognized his horse.”
Devereux’s bright gray eyes were fixed on the man. She went to him, her expression imploring.
“Have you heard that de Montfort is now king?” she asked earnestly.
He gazed steadily at her. After a moment, he sighed faintly. “I have been told that Henry was captured, my lady,” he admitted. “It was not my place to tell you. I am a soldier, not a herald. That news should come from those more important than me.”
Her eyes widened. “So you knew this and you did not tell me?”
He appeared both contrite and sad. “As I said, it was not my place to tell you. It could be rumor, after all. I did not want to upset you, not until we know for certain.”
“But you should have told me.”
“To what good, my lady?” he wanted to know. “You would live your days in angst and fear until you received more reliable word. Lady Katharine will tell you the truth, have no doubt. She will tell you what you need to know.”
Devereux couldn’t think any longer. Her mind was becoming overwhelmed with thoughts of Davyss’ fate. She turned away from Brovus, feeling the world sway beneath her. If what these men said was true, de Montfort was now king and Henry was a captive. But the king would only be a captive if Davyss was not there to champion him. And that would only happen if Davyss was dead.
She hadn’t taken two steps before she lost consciousness.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The last time they had seen the Allington manse, a great battle had gone on inside of it. Lady Devereux had proved more than a suitable adversary for the de Winter knights. This time, the situation was decidedly different.
Davyss knocked on the massive oak door, rattling the entire structure with the big iron knocker. The door was built like a fortress itself with big iron bracing strips riveted across it. He’d never actually seen the manse but his men had. He glanced over his shoulder at Hugh, Andrew, Edmund and Philip. Obviously absent were Nik and Lollardly; Nik had been seriously wounded in the same archer wave that had hit Davyss, struck in the eye. He lost the eye and even now lay on death’s door with a raging fever as a result of the injury. Lollardly remained at Nik’s side, nursing the knight and hoping to pull him through. Davyss felt their absence deeply.
He also noticed the men he had sent to protect his wife lingered on the perimeter of Allington manse. Brovus, the sergeant, had come out of the trees to greet him. In fact, he’d had his crossbow trained on Davyss as the group had moved towards the manse, not recognizing his liege’s charger. Davyss explained that his horse had fallen in battle and he had confiscated another one. Brovus had waved his liege onward and skulked back into the bramble.
Davyss had to knock on the door twice before the small sliding door set within the massive panel slid open. A pair of fearful eyes stared back.
“I am Davyss de Winter,” Davyss said. “Where is my wife?”
The fearful eyes widened and the sliding door slapped shut. Davyss heard the bolt thrown and suddenly the massive panel was lurching open. A little old man stood in the doorway, bowing profusely, as another man abruptly came barreling forth from an adjoining room.
“My lord!” the man nearly crashed into Davyss in his haste. “I heard you… you are Davyss de Winter?”
Davyss nodded, sizing the man up. “Who are you?”
The older man extended an eager hand. “I am Devereux’s father, St. Paul Allington,” he replied, shaking Davyss’ hand enthusiastically. “We have never met, my lord, but I have met your mother on many occasions.”
Davyss nodded faintly, seeing the family resemblance in the man’s gray eyes. Then he glanced into the manse beyond, darkened in the late afternoon. “Is my wife here?”
St. Paul nodded and shoved the old servant back so that Davyss could enter. “She is here, my lord,” he replied, suddenly seeming nervous. “But… well, that is to say, the physic says she must stay in bed.”
Davyss looked at the man. “Bed? Why?”
St. Paul was wringing his hands. “You will have to ask the physic,” he replied. “I believe it has something to do with the baby.”
Davyss felt a wave of dread wash over him. “Where is she?”
“Up the stairs; first door to the left.”
Davyss bolted up the stairs directly in front of him. The narrow flight doubled back on itself and he ended up in a narrow upstairs corridor. The first door to his left was open and he tried to slow his pace as he entered. But he realized, as he passed into the room, that he was shaking.
The bed was immediately to his left, the head against the wall. It was a big bed with lovely curtains around it, very much a woman’s bed. His wife was curled up on her side, facing away from him, and in the corner of the room sat an older, red-haired woman. She had some kind of mending in her hand but when she saw Davyss enter, she immediately bolted to her feet.
“Who are you?” the old woman hissed. “Get out of here. You’ll not disturb her.”
Davyss lifted an eyebrow at the woman’s tone and put up a hand to calm her. “I am the lady’s husband,” he said softly. “Is she ill?”
The old woman faltered as Devereux suddenly rolled onto her back. Her big gray eyes were wide with astonishment and shock.
“Davyss!” she gasped.
He flew to the bed, half-falling and half-sitting upon it as he pulled her into a crushing embrace. Devereux burst into tears, sobbing dramatically as she threw her arms around his neck and clutched him tightly. The smell, the feel of him, had her overwhelmed to the point of hyperventilation. She couldn’t catch her breath.
“All is well, sweet girl,” he kissed her cheek and head furiously. “I am here now. All is well.”
Devereux pulled back to look at him, running her hands all over his face and hair as if to convince herself that he wasn’t a ghost.
“Are you real?” she breathed, kissing his nose, his mouth. “I cannot believe it.”
His hands were shaking as he gently cupped her face, kissing her with deep and painful longing. “I am real,” he murmured, stopping in his zeal to take a good, long look at her. She looked pale but delicious. “Why are you in bed? What is wrong?”
Her smile faded somewhat. “The physic says that the baby is making itself known,” she told him. “It is nothing that a little rest will not cure. You needn’t worry.”
He touched her head, her cheek, moving his hand down her arm as if to make sure for himself that she was not about to fall apart. She felt warm and soft and wonderful.
“Then a physic has examined you?”
She nodded. “There is a fine surgeon in town, the one who volunteers his time to The House of Hope,” she said. “He says our son is due around the New Year.”
Davyss smiled faintly, with great joy, as he kissed her cheek gently. “Then your suspicions are confirmed.”
She nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him against her tightly. “My joy is complete now that you have returned safe and whole to me,” her smile faded as she let him go and gazed into his eyes. “Are you all right?”
“I am fine.”
“You were not injured?”
He didn’t want to lie to her; she would see the scar at some point. “I took an arrow to the shoulder but it was not serious.”
She looked worried. “Are you sure? Let me see.”
He shook his head, kissing her hands as she tried to get a look at his neck area. “No need,” he assured her. “I have healed.”
She had to take his word for it, at least for the mome
nt. “And your men? Did everyone come through unscathed?”
He sobered somewhat. “Nik took an arrow to the eye,” he told her honestly. “He lingers near death. Lollardly has remained with him at Lewes Castle. We did not want to move him in his condition.”
Devereux looked stricken. “Does Frances know?”
Davyss reached up, smoothing the mussed hair from her face in a gentle gesture. “Nay,” he admitted. “I have not sent her word. I will not until I know which direction Nik will take.”
Devereux shook her head, distressed on Frances’ behalf. “That is not fair to her,” she insisted softly. “She will want to know. If it were me, I would want to know.”
Davyss simply shrugged, not giving her an answer one way or the other. He seemed more intent on inspecting the ends of her hair, her fingers, kissing them one by one. Devereux watched his face, seeing exhaustion and emotion in the strong lines. It was evident that he was distracted, concerned and tense. There was much on his mind.
“We were told that Simon de Montfort is now king,” she said softly. “Is this true?”
He looked up at her, the beautiful hazel eyes lined with fatigue. After a moment of studying her sweet face, he averted his gaze.
“Aye,” he whispered. “De Montfort is now ruling England.”
She could see, through all of his strong military façade, that he was greatly distressed by the thought. For the great Davyss de Winter to have to admit defeat must have been a bitter thing for him indeed and she felt a great deal of sympathy for him.
“What happened to the king?” she asked softly.
“Captured along with Prince Edward.”
“My God,” she breathed. “Davyss, what happened? How did you escape being captured yourself?”
He looked at her, then, his hazel eyes riveted to her. He wasn’t sure he could tell her all of it but, in reflection, perhaps she should know all of it and understand just how serious the situation was. She thought she had married the perfect warrior; perfectly arrogant, perfectly skilled. But the truth was that she hadn’t; she had married a man who had grown up over the past few months. He was a better person now, a stronger man that she had helped create. He wanted her to know everything that had happened and hoped it was the right decision to tell her.
“I was captured,” he told her, taking her hands in his own. “But there is something you must know, sweetling; Simon de Montfort is my godfather. He and my father were the best of friends and Simon is very close to my family.”
Devereux’s eyes widened. “Is this so?” she was truly astonished. “You… you have never said anything about this.”
“I know. It is something I did not want you to know.”
“But you are telling me now. Why?’
“Because it is important that you understand the dynamics of what has happened.”
She fell silent a moment, thinking, wondering if she was ready to hear everything. “But… but you are Henry’s champion. You fought against Simon.”
“Aye, I did,” he replied. “I fought against Simon because I made a choice long ago to support the king, not a baron’s rebellion. Simon has been trying for years to convince me to switch allegiance but I would not do it. Even when faced with the prospect of fighting against my brother.”
Devereux watched him with sad, concerned eyes. “Is Hugh all right?”
“He is fine. He is with me, in fact, outside with the horses.”
“He is here?” she repeated, digesting what he was trying to tell her. Things weren’t making a lot of sense. “If you were captured, why are you here? Did Simon release you because you are his godson?”
He sighed faintly. “As I said, Simon has been attempting to gain my fealty for years,” he said softly. “Nothing he could say or do would convince me. But something finally did.”
“What?”
“You.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Me? How did I convince you?” She suddenly put her hands on his big arms imploringly. “Surely you did not heed all of those things I said to you when we first met, about not believing in absolute rule or how I distained the knighthood because they used their power for war rather than unity.”
A smile played on his lips. “Are you saying that you were wrong?”
She pursed her lips wryly, unable to look him in the eye for the moment. “I was wrong about a great many things,” she said, her expression turning earnest as she looked at him. “But the most important thing I was wrong about was you. You are a great man, Davyss. You told me how great you were and I did not believe you. But you were right. And I was wrong about something else.”
“What?”
“You said once that most women would see marriage to you as a great honor,” she reached up to touch his face. “Your greatness does not come from your deeds or victorious battles. You could be a pauper and I would still consider marriage to you a great honor. It is the man I love, not the warrior.”
He kissed her hand sweetly, closing his eyes to the power of her words. He was deeply touched. “Thank you,” he murmured. “And I am greatly honored to be your husband. So much so that I would do anything to protect you, including ruin my reputation.”
Her gentle smile faded, his words bringing dread. “What does that mean?”
He held her palm against his mouth as he spoke. “It means that Simon threatened to take you hostage unless I joined him. I could not allow this to happen; I could not take the chance of you becoming deeply involved in a deadly game. So I agreed to swear fealty to him on the condition that he leaves you untouched.”
Devereux stared at him. As he watched, the gray eyes filled with tears that spilled over onto her cheeks. She suddenly threw her arms around his neck and held him tightly.
“Oh, Davyss,” she sobbed. “I am so sorry; so very, very sorry that I caused this.”
He held her close, stroking the back of her head with one great hand. “You did not cause anything, sweetling,” he assured her softly. “I made the decision; not you. It was my choice completely.”
“But you made it because of me.”
He sighed faintly. “As I feel you warm and safe in my arms, I would make the same choice a thousand times over.” He pulled her back, holding her face between his two big hands as he fixed her in the eye. “Had this happened before I met you, I would have died rather than switch allegiance. It would have been a matter of pride more than honor; Davyss de Winter cannot be coerced into anything no matter what the circumstances. But with you involved… there was no pride or honor involved. I made my decision solely based on the fact that I would do anything to protect you and my family. My agreement to Simon has allowed my knights to be released, my brother and I to serve together again, and has guaranteed your safety. To have thought of only me, and to have been stubborn about it, would have had negative consequences for everyone around me. I cannot only think of myself any longer. Does that make sense?”
She sniffled, tears fading as she digested his words. “Aye,” she replied. “But what does it all mean? What will happen now?”
He thought a moment. “I must return to London because Simon is convening all of the barons in England.”
Her eyes grew intense. “I am coming with you,” she told him firmly. “When do we leave?”
His brow furrowed. “But what about… well, what the physic told you?” he wanted to know. “Do you not need to stay in bed?”
She began tossing the covers off, her lips molding into a pout. “I am going with you,” she repeated. “There are just a few things I must pack and then we can leave.”
He put his big hands on her, stilling her motion. When she looked up, his handsome face was tense with concern.
“You know that there is nothing more in the world that I would wish for than for you to be with me at all times,” he said softly, firmly. “But until I speak with the physic and hear from his mouth what your troubles are, you are not moving from this bed. Your health is of utmost importance to me and I will not risk it.�
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She looked as if she was about to burst into tears. “But I do not want to stay here without you.”
He patted her cheek, rising from the bed as he still held her hand. “Do not fret,” he told her. “I shall find the physic right now and speak with him. Do you know where he is?”
She tossed off the covers again and jumped from the other side of the bed so he couldn’t grab her. She ignored him completely, snapping off orders to the red-headed woman still in the corner.
“Find Kerby right away,” she commanded. “Tell him that my husband is here and he will not take me to London until he speaks with Kerby. He has very important business in London that cannot wait. Go!”
The woman fled, nearly running down Davyss in her haste. When she was gone, Devereux smiled timidly at her husband, who looked the least bit perturbed.
“Dora will find him,” she said confidently. “Until then, I will get dressed so you will not have to wait overly for me.”
Davyss lifted an eyebrow, resting his enormous hand on his slender hips. “You will tell me why the physic has you in bed.”
She averted her gaze, moving with lethargic movements to the massive wardrobe against the wall. Pulling open the door, she pulled forth a white shift as she sighed heavily.
“Because I have not been feeling very well, as you know,” she said simply.
He regarded hers suspiciously. “The retching? The headaches?”
“Aye.”
“There must be more than that. He would not confine you to bed for an upset belly and headaches.”
She shrugged, laying the shift out on the bed. “And… well, I have had fainting spells.”
“Fainting spells?” he repeated, his suspicion turning to genuine concern. “Are they frequent?”
“Frequent enough. If I am too tired, or upset, sometimes I become overwhelmed.”
He was coming to understand. “And my being away has not helped your situation.”
She smiled weakly. “My worry for you has been great.”
Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume 1 Page 130