The Whispering Night (19 page)

“I am famished.”

“Then I shall return
shortly.”

“Can I come?”

“You don’t want to rest
here, in bed, and have a man serve you?”

She made a face at him
and tossed off the coverlet. Garren helped her cinch up the peasant bodice, not
so much helping her as stealing a touch of her skin now and again. Their entire
world now was filled with discovery, laughter, and new sensations. Derica
grabbed the comb and tamed her hair, securing it at the nape of her neck with a
piece of cloth the sisters had packed for her. Garren stood behind her as she
groomed, running his hands down her torso, around her waist. He watched her
face as she fumbled with her hair. He was completely fascinated by her.

 He left her long enough
to put on his tunic, boots, and strap the sword to his waist. With his wife in
hand, he quit the room and descended the stairs in to the loud, smoky hall.

It was more crowded than
when they had first arrived. People were laughing, eating, and becoming
riotously drunk. Garren kept hold of Derica as he ordered food from the barkeep
and went in search of a table for the two of them. Derica wanted to eat in the
hall, since she had never been to a tavern before. Garren hoped that one meal
in such a place would cure her of any further curiosity.  He couldn’t see any
charm to it, but she did.

The only table they
could find was a small one by the hearth. Garren sat with his back to the wall,
facing the room, and Derica within arm’s length. She was chatting on about
something, but he was only half-listening. His attention was on two knights on
the far side of the room. Knights tended to have a special sense around each
other, always knowing another knight, another potential enemy or ally. But
Garren’s circumstances were slightly different in that his knightly duties took
on a more subversive role.  It was essential he be completely aware of his
surroundings at all times.

“Did you hear me?”

Derica was asking him a
question. Garren looked away from the men in the corner and smiled at her. “I
am sorry, I did not. What did you say, sweetheart?”

“I asked you if you’d
ever been to Rome. Surely coming back from the Holy Land, you must have passed
through?”

He shook his head. “I
have not been to Rome.” It wasn’t the time to tell her, yet, that he’d never
been to the Holy Land. “Is that some place you wish to go?”

She nodded. “I hear they
have all manner of ancient buildings, built by the gods of some olden race. And
there is a huge theatre where men fight to the death.”

“I have heard of this
also,” he said. “Perhaps we will go there some day, if it would make you
happy.”

Her face lit up. “Do you
mean it?”

“Of course.”

She leapt up and threw
her arms around his neck. “Oh, Garren, I am so happy. Thank you for being so
wonderful to me.”

He held her, flashes of
the truths he must eventually tell her filling his mind. He’d pushed everything
aside in light of recent events, but now with the event of their marriage and
life together, he knew that he must tell her the truth of the matter soon. It
was not fair to hold anything back from her.  He struggled not to be fearful of
how she would react, knowing he had basically lied to her.

“We will go anywhere you
wish,” he gently sat her back in her chair; the knights in the corner had
noticed him and eye contact had been made. He didn’t want Derica between him
and any hostilities that might erupt. “Is there somewhere else you might like
to visit?”

She was a-gaggle about
their potential travel. Most definitely, she wanted to visit Spain and Corsica.
Greece was another place she would like to go. Garren lost track of all of the
places she had heard of as his study of the two knights intensified.

“But what if we have
children right away?” she was saying. “Will we take them with us? Certainly we
cannot leave them behind. Do you suppose…?”

Garren didn’t hear her
after that. The knights in the corner were shifting; both of them were looking
at him. Suspecting something might erupt, Garren took her by the hand and
pulled her from the chair.

“Let us eat in our
room,” he said. “I do not wish to share you with these ruffians out here.”

“But…,” Derica looked
disappointed. “Very well, then. If that is your wish.”

He barely got her to the
stairs before the knights were on them.  Derica was on the first step when the
growling voice came.

“Le Mon.”

Garren was cool. He
turned, placing himself between his wife and the knights. The men tossed their
cloaks off, revealing the swarthy features of one and the clean shaven features
of the other. Garren immediately recognized them, and his heart sank. He knew
them both, and not on good terms.

“De Claare,” he wanted
them to know that he was not off-guard. “I see you have brought your trained
dog with you.”

The swarthier knight
snarled in response, but the other, a man with short black hair, smiled thinly.

“Torres is indeed a
dog,” he said. “And he bites. Imagine finding you here in the wilds of
Northampton. What are you doing so far from Chepstow?”

“Nothing worthy of your
notice.”

“Ah, but you are in my
territory. My liege is Leicester and you, my friend, are far from the support
of Richard’s great Chancellor.  I am sure my liege will be very interested to
know you are here.”

“Leicester is a traitor.
He defiles England with the very air he breathes.”

“A matter of opinion.”
De Claare cocked an eyebrow. “Tell me something, le Mon; why would a knight of
your reputation and stature fight for a king that has barely set foot on
English soil? I do not understand it.”

“That is because you are
too stupid to realize the truth.” Compounding his current concerns was the fact
that Derica was hearing tantalizing clues to his true self. “Leave peaceably
now and you leave with your life, de Claare. I shall not make the offer again.”

De Claare shook his
head. “When last we met at that skirmish at Corfe Castle and you forced my men
to surrender before the Marshall’s armies, I told you that if I saw you again I
would kill you. I meant it.”

Garren smiled
humorlessly. “You could not do it then, even when you outnumbered us two to
one. What makes you think you can do it now?”

De Claare’s gaze moved
to Derica, standing on the steps above her husband.  He pointed at her. “Your
lady wife, I presume?”

Garren’s sword came out
faster than the blink of an eye. “I was merciful on the battlefield at Corfe.
Mention the lady again and my mercy is at an end.”

The two knights laughed
in sinister fashion.  Behind Garren, Derica came down to stand behind her
husband. He felt her hand on his shoulder.

“Come with me, now,” she
murmured in his ear. “We’ll bolt the door and wait for them to go away. Please,
Garren.”

“She is a delightful
morsel, le Mon,” de Claare said. “A gift for your faithful service, no doubt.”

Garren knew there would
be no getting rid of them until someone’s blood was spilt. “Go back to the room
and lock the door, sweetheart,” he told her. “Do not open it for anyone but me,
and do not come down here no matter what you hear. Is that clear?”

Derica’s heart filled
with terror. She’d been around warring men too long and knew what they were
capable of. And she was also smart enough to know that her presence was a
distraction in a vocation where distraction could be deadly.

“Please, Garren,” she
was beginning to cry. “Come with me. Leave them here.”

Garren could feel her
fear. “I cannot. Please, go. I beg you.”

Derica would not argue
with him, though she desperately wanted to. She looked at the men threatening
her husband, hating them with every fiber her small body possessed.

“Then if you are to
fight him, allow him to regain his armor,” she said strongly. “You are fully
protected and fully armed. There is nothing honorable about fighting a knight
without his protection.”

Garren took his eyes off
his opponents in an attempt to hush her, but de Claare spoke first.

“The lady knows
something of knights,” he said. “Have you, perchance, had much experience with
them?”

Torres and a few men
surrounding them snickered lewdly. Derica could feel her anger outweighing her
fear.

“My father and uncles
and brothers are knights,” she growled. “The House of de Rosa is well known for
their fighting.”

De Claare’s smile
vanished. “De Rosa?” he repeated. “You are of the House of de Rosa?”

“Bertram de Rosa is my
father.”

The knight was clearly
puzzled. He looked at Garren. “You married into the House of de Rosa?” he
asked, incredulous. “Le Mon, could it be that your loyalties have changed?”

“They have not.”

“But you married your
enemy’s daughter.”

“I married a woman whom
I adore. And our marriage is none of your affair.”

De Claare and his knight
were confused. They wanted Garren in the worst way, yet they were unwilling to
provoke the wrath of de Rosa. Anyone who supported John Lackland, as Leicester
and Norfolk did, knew of the warring de Rosa clan. To attack a member of that
clan, even a daughter’s enemy husband, would cause problems and it was a chance
de Claare did not want to take.

With a long look, the
knights backed away. Sheathing their swords, they quit the inn without another
word. Garren stood, sword still in hand, watching the door to make sure they
did not return. He was not surprised the de Rosa name had held such weight with
them.

“Come on,” Derica said
quietly. “Let us return to our room. They will not come back.”

Garren’s eyes lingered
on the door a moment longer. When he turned to follow his wife up the stairs,
she was already half way to the top. Entering their room on her heels, he
closed the door quietly and bolted it, wondering what he was going to say to
her in explanation to she had just heard.  He prayed that she would understand.

Carefully, he set his
weapon against the wall. “Derica,” he began hesitantly. “I know you heard
things that might have confused you. I would like to explain, if you would
allow me.”

Derica stood by the
window, peering through the oilcloth as her husband had done earlier. “I think
they have left.” She let the oilcloth fall back and looked at him. “I told you
once that it didn’t matter to me if you were a spy or not. It still doesn’t.”

He felt more relief than
words could express, but she deserved to know all of it. He sat down on the
mattress and motioned her over. When she came close, he pulled her down onto
his lap and held her tightly, just for a moment.

“Whether or not it
matters, you deserve to know all of it,” he said quietly. “Few people know what
I am about to tell you, simply because my life would be in jeopardy if the
truth were widely known.  But as my wife, it is your right.”

Derica curled up on his
lap. “Is it awful?”

“That depends.”

“Was my father right
about you being a spy, then? Did I unwittingly lie for you?”

He paused. “Aye.”

Surprisingly, she wasn’t
upset by the knowledge. He was being honest with her, for better or for worse.

“I have been in
Richard’s service for many years,” he said. “In my younger days, I fought for
him in France as well as in England. I fought for him against his father,
against his brothers, and in support of both his father and his brothers.
Sometimes royal families have a strange sense of loyalty.”

“Go on.”

“Some time ago, I went
into the service of William Marshall. William is not only Richard’s chancellor,
he is his most ardent supporter. In doing so, he retains experienced knights
like me for tasks he considers vital to Richard’s rule.”

“Like what?”

“Anything that
conventional means cannot accomplish. I do what is necessary to further
Richard’s cause, be it on the battlefield or in a more covert venue.”

Derica thought a moment.
“My father is a supporter of the king’s brother.”

“I know.”

“Then I would guess that
your coming to Framlingham was in the line of duty. You were sent to spy on my
father.”

“Aye.”

“And you were to marry
me to accomplish that.”

He looked her in the
eye. “That was the original plan,” he said. “But, as you can see, it did not
turn out that way. Somewhere in the process of accomplishing my mission, I fell
in love with you and my motives for the Marshall were forgotten.  For you, I am
willing to risk everything I have ever been, everything I have ever believed
in. I could not and would not betray you, not even for the sake of my king.”

Derica fell silent, her
mind whirling with this new information. She stroked his neck, the back of his
head, feeling his soft hair drift through her fingers.