A Dishonorable Knight (57 page)

That had some effect and Elena was
roughly pushed to the back of the lines. Bruised and feeling as though she had
fought a battle, she collapsed on the trampled ground to catch her breath.

She returned to the baggage line
where the pages were pretending to be busy organize the packs, bundled tents,
and spare weapons.

Several of the pages tried to get her
to join them, but Elena refused, curling up on the ground beneath a cart. She
prayed with a devotion she had never felt as the minutes slowly crept by.

To her surprise, she awoke some time
later. Terrified that she had missed something, she scrambled out from her
hiding place.

“I tell you, the battle is over!”
said one of the pages.

“Our orders are to remain here,”
argued another.

“And miss our share of the bounty? I
think not!” the first boy said, and left with a small group for the ridge.
Elena hurried to keep up with them and thus had her first view of the aftermath
of the battle.

In a small field that would have
barely held a flock of sheep, ten thousand men had met in fierce combat. There
was not an inch of ground that had not been trampled, turned, or bloodied. The
lush grass was flattened and torn to a matted pulp on which the dead and
wounded cushioned their heads. Everywhere she looked, one gruesome sight or
another met her eyes. Bodies were hacked beyond recognition, laying haphazardly
where they fell, some on their backs where they gazed sightlessly at the bright
blue sky overhead, others face down in the trampled dirt which a ceaseless flow
of blood had turned to mud. Moans of tortuous pain reached her and she saw
trembling hands lifted, voices begging for help. Oh the battle was definitely
over, she thought a bit wildly as she choked down the bile that rose at the
sights and smells assailing her. But who had won? She saw men held prisoner in
small groups by soldiers with pikes and swords, but whose men were they?

A shout drew her attention across the
small valley she saw a man pulling something from a cluster of bushes. Elena
squinted and saw the light reflect off the objects shiny surface. The crown of
England!
she
thought. Wide eyed, she watched as the
man strode towards a small group of men in the center of the field. The man
approached the group and bowed as a tall blond man stepped away from the crowd.
The blond man took the crown and held it in the air so that all could see it
before he set it firmly on his head. Elena exhaled with relief. That was not
Richard, but Henry Tudor, now King of England. So intrigued was she with what
was going on below her that she shrieked in fear when a man on horseback rode
up to her.

"Sweet Mary, but you frightened
me!"

The man laughed and gestured with his
chin to the center of the field. "And you frightened our new king with
that scream."

Elena turned and saw Henry shaking
his head and laughing with the men around him. He gestured for her to join him.

“Well lad, it seems you did not obey
my orders to stay with the baggage.”

Elena’s eyes widened. Had she truly
crossed the king? “Forgive me, your grace, but I seek a friend.”

“Am I not your friend?” he joked with
the intense joy of one who had gambled everything and won.

“Of–of course sire...” Elena
did not know what to say.

“Go on then and seek your friend.”
Elena turned to leave. “Boy!” Henry called and something in the way he said it
made her realize he knew she was not a boy. She turned around, but Henry only
winked at her.

She felt her face warm but her
embarrassment was quickly forgotten as she resumed her search for Gareth. She
had no idea how she would locate him and pushed down a surge of panic.

Destiny, fate, or pure blind luck
came to her assistance. Twenty paces beyond the king, crouched on the ground
were Gareth and Bryant. "Gareth!" she called as she pushed past a
small group of men and began running towards him. Gareth lifted his head
wearily, but when he saw her, he quickly pushed himself to his feet and lifted
her off the ground as she flung herself at him. His arms crushed her body to
him and she reveled in their strength. He was alive and unharmed! Her heart
sang with the news and as soon as he lowered her to the ground, she grabbed his
head and forced it to hers so that she might see his face. What she saw
astounded her. Gone was the boyishness that had been present even in their most
intimate and most dangerous times. That unruly lock of hair that was forever
getting in his eyes was held off his forehead with clotted blood. Sweat and
grime drew harsh lines around his eyes and mouth and his eyes looked weary
beyond his years. Elena's heart constricted with grief and worry for him. As he
turned and led her to where Bryant was still crouched on the ground, she
realized the cause behind his inexplicable sorrow.

Lying in a pool of blood from the
huge gash in his midriff, Cynan lay quietly. His head was cradled in Bryant's
lap and his friend's tears had washed clean the craggy face. Bryant and Gareth
had closed his eyes and smoothed the hair back from his brow and through her
tears,
Elena wondered that Cynan should look so peaceful in
death. Choking back a sob, she pressed her knuckles to her lips and looked to
Gareth. His own eyes were dry but filled with a grief so terrible it made her
weep all the harder.

"Oh Cynan," she said,
crossing the few feet between her and his still form. Heedless of the tears
that flowed down her cheeks, she knelt beside him and with shaky hand, reached
out to caress his forehead. She gasped to feel it was still warm and made her
wonder if perhaps he yet lived. She raised hopeful eyes to Bryant's face but he
only shook his head. Her voice thick with tears and sorrow, she whispered.
"I shall miss you Cynan. Who will tease Gareth about his bad manners the
next time he tells me I'm selfish? Who will make me laugh when I've just
swallowed a bug from sleeping on the ground?" She inhaled sharply, trying
unsuccessfully to stem her flow of tears. "Who will boil that dreadful
dried meat for me and serve it as if it were roasted venison? Who will--"
her voice broke again, "who will take care of Enid? Oh Cynan!" Unable
to control her grief at her first loss of a friend, she hunched over, crying.
She felt strong hands grasp her shoulders and lift her to her feet and when she
lifted her face, she saw Gareth's moist eyes before he drew her to him in a
crushing hug. She returned the embrace just as fiercely and begged God's
forgiveness that she was thankful that Gareth had not been the one to die.

By the time Gareth released her
,
she had gained
some control
. She wiped the tears from her face and asked Gareth,
"What will we do with him?"

"We will have to bury him
here," Gareth said.

"No!" Bryant shouted.
"We must take him back to Wales, to Enid!"

"How, Bryant?
In
this heat?
And would you have Enid see him dead with a babe on the
way?" No! Let her remember
him
as he was, alive
and smiling. Let us remember him that way with her."

"But to bury him here, so far
from home with these English!" Bryant cried.

Gareth knelt down and grasped his
friend's shoulders and Elena could see the physical effort it took him to
prevent the tears from spilling over his lids. "His body only will remain
here. His spirit is already with Enid and their unborn babe in Wales. It flies
to the top of the Eyri Mountains even while we bicker her over his
remains."

"He will have a Christian burial
befitting a hero of Wales."

Elena started at the voice behind her
and turned to see the new king standing behind them.

"I hope this was not the friend
you sought," Henry said, gesturing to Cynan.

Elena shook her head no.

Henry looked to Gareth who held her
hand. “This man and all the others will be seen to with respect and gratitude
for their ultimate gift to England.

"As for you, Sir Knight,"
he said, gesturing to Gareth, "I understand your spurs were hacked off by
my predecessor." Without waiting for a response, the new king continued.
"Clearly, you are a noble and chivalrous man, worthy of much more than the
title of Knight, but since I have nothing else to offer you, I would at least
reinstate you to that position."

"I thank you," Gareth said
hoarsely.

His attention clearly moving on to
the next subject, Henry Tudor said, "Tend to your comrade," as he
turned to leave.

***

Though the evening was not chilly,
Elena was glad for the warmth of the campfire around which sat the Welshmen.
Watching the yellow flames lick hungrily into the dark night seemed to cleanse
her mind of the horrors she had witnessed today. The soft blue of the fire that
quickly ate the dry wood seemed to warm the chill of Cynan's death and Elena
felt herself relax. Gareth sat beside her on the hard ground, his hip and
shoulder touching her own. Heedless of the others or what they might think,
Elena laid her head on his shoulder and sighed when he rested his head on top
of her. She felt as though she could remain in this position forever, even
through the discussion of the day's battle.

"When it looked as though
Stanley was not joining us, I thought we were lost," Dafydd said.

"Aye," Gareth’s father
agreed. "And I thought he had set us up in Aberstwyth with all those
instructions."

"Why did he hesitate?" one
of the archers asked.

Morgan shrugged but Gareth said,
"Richard did hold his eldest son as hostage. Perhaps he only sought to
wait until Richard would be unable to send the order for his death."

"I heard that when Richard
threatened Stanley's son unless he joined supported him on the field, Stanley
sent back word that he had other son's," Morgan said.

About the cozy circle of the fire,
men smiled grimly at Stanley's bravado. Elena reflected that they were only
smiling at the careless words because the young man had not been executed.

"Well, for all that he was a
devious man in his life, I will go so far as to say that Richard at least died
well, as a king should," said a Welshman Elena did not know.

The men nodded in agreement as Gareth
added, "Many men in Richard's place would have allowed themselves to be
taken hostage in the hopes that they would be allowed to live. Richard did at
least have the dignity to go down in the fight."

"And took several excellent men
with him," the Welshman said.

Elena tilted her head to look at
Gareth but his gaze was lost in the fire. She watched the light and shadows
play against the strong planes of his face, in the stubble that covered his
square jaw, in the gray depths of his eyes. He must be thinking of Cynan, she
thought. His father's voice pulled her attention back to the conversation.

"And now it is time to rebuild
this country."

"Enid must rebuild her
life," Bryant said bitterly.

There were several seconds of silence
at his words but Morgan declared an end to the mourning when he said, "But
for now we must rebuild this fire so that we may cook this enormous pig King
Henry has sent." Three men behind Elena and Gareth came forward carrying
great logs and they quickly stood and moved out of the way. Once they were
beyond the circle of firelight, Gareth grabbed her hand and pulled her after
him as he led the way to the other side of the tethered group of horses. Alone
and out of sight, he pulled her tightly to him and buried his face in her shorn
hair.

Elena grabbed fistfuls of his own
hair and turned his face until she could kiss him. He returned her passionate
kiss with equal fervor and in the heat of the embrace, the tension and
heartache of the day dissolved. When the kiss finally ended, they were both
shaky with its effects and neither spoke for several moments. Finally Gareth
started to speak, stopped, cleared his throat, and started again. "Elena,
I must make you understand why I left you at Nottingham when you helped me
escape. I know you must think that I was thinking only of my own goal of
reaching Wales and King Henry's army, but I swear to you that I was only
concerned with your safety. I had put you in enough danger since the day I met
you that--" Elena stopped his words with her fingertips and then replaced
them with her mouth.

"I love you," she whispered
against his lips.

She grew worried when he inhaled
sharply and said nothing. In the pale light of a half moon, she could not judge
what emotions were playing across his face and she wondered if he had only
claimed he loved her weeks ago because she had helped him escape Nottingham's
dungeon.

"Elena, I have nothing to offer
you but a small keep that will one day be mine but which will always be hard
work. I know there are things you want out of a husband, things that are
important to you and--"

"Do you?"

"Of course, you have told me
often enough what you desire and the security that wealth and power can provide
should be yours."

Elena could tell, even in the dim
light, that he was thrown off balance by her next question. "Gareth, are
you the same person you were two months ago when Richard's entourage was
attacked?"