Rise of the Defender (116 page)

     “Nay, madam, I am worried over no scar. I
am simply grateful for my life,” he replied, greatly fatigued again.

     Marianne watched his strong, handsome face
as he drifted off to sleep once again. She could hardly believe his identity
and she said a quick prayer to Fate. Fate had brought Jonathan to the wood's
edge that day in search of battle souvenirs, instead finding a dying man. Why
had he brought him back? Even Jonathan hadn't truly known the answer to that,
but she knew Fate had brought him here so that she could heal him. And The
Defender, in thanks for his life saved, would help her Rob get his fortress
back. Hope soared within her bosom; aye, Fate was to thank for this.

     Christopher slept until noon. He was roused
by a gentle voice, knowing it wasn't Marianne's and not surprised to see
Lizabetha hovering over him, a smile on her pretty face.

     “My lord, I have brought food and a razor,”
she said softly. “Marianne said you lamented about needing a shave. If you will
allow me, sire, I shall both feed and shave you.”

     He nodded, blinking the sleep out of his
eyes. He allowed Lizabetha to prop him up with a few blankets so that he was
sitting up a bit. After the world stopped spinning, she fed him the broth of a
stew that had been made from the remainder of their beef. It was thick and
delicious and he ate the entire bowl, gratefully accepting a cup of watered ale
to wash it down.

     The entire time, Lizabetha said not a word
but smiled endlessly. He was polite but cool, for he did not want to encourage
the girl and her obvious infatuation.

     She lay him back once again and carefully
shaved his face.  He made sure she left the beard, but she cleaned it up a
great deal. She even washed his hair with a bit of soap and dried him gently
with a towel. He knew he looked much more presentable when she blushed. He
could not help but grin.

     “Your assistance is appreciated” he said,
rubbing his hand over his smooth neck. “Amazing that something as simple as a
shave can improve one’s spirits.”

     Her blush deepened as she collected the
bowl and razor. “You are welcome, my lord,” she said. Then, her gaze lingered
on him, daring to look him in the eye. “Is there anything else you require?”

     It was a leading question, one that made
him slightly nervous. “Nay,” he replied evenly. “You have been a great help and
I appreciate it.”

     Lizabetha’s gaze lingered on him,
suggestively, but she said nothing more as she quit the hut.  Christopher kept
his gaze averted until she left, only then daring to look at the door to make
sure she had truly gone. Even then, he could only roll his eyes and pray the
infatuation was a passing thing.

***

CHAPTER FORTY THREE

     Dustin and Christin had sat with Richard
and the knights for most of the evening, listening to the fighting men tell
tales of battle upon the sands of the Holy Land and stories of valor involving
Christopher. Even though Christin couldn’t understand the stories, still,
Dustin wanted the baby there, basking in the aura of her father’s memory. It
was as if he was holding her once again, so strong and vivid the tales. He was
there, in spirit, if not in body.

     It had been evident since the meal
commenced, however, that David and Marcus were deeply at odds.  Edward sided
with David and Marcus seemed to be on his own island of righteousness,
defensive when it came to Edward and David yet warm and accommodating when it
came to Dustin. 

     He told his own stories of Christopher,
some involving Christopher, David, himself, and Christopher’s cousin on his
mother’s side, a knight by the name of Kieran Hage.  Another great knight on
the quest, he had been killed by assassins before the quest had been complete. 
Christopher and David had grieved long the man who had been like a brother to
them.  When Marcus brought up his name, even Richard grew saddened.

     “War is the widowmaker and kings, the
executioner,” he muttered philosophically. “I have seen many good men fall all
in the name of religion or conquest. I do not believe that Christopher had
gotten over the death of Kieran.”

     David reflected on his massive and
intelligent cousin. “Nor I,” he said softly. “To lose him as we did, to
assassins no less, was tragic.”

     “We never recovered his body, did we?”
Richard said before he could think. “The last I was told, he was tracked to
Nahariya, but after that, he all but vanished.

     David and Marcus, rather anxious, passed
glances at Dustin, who was sitting next to Richard with the baby sitting on the
table in front of her.  Richard realized they were on to a very bad subject and
quickly shifted focus.

     “My lady, I understand your mother is a
Fitz Walter,” he said the first thing that popped to mind, watching David
wince. Another bad subject. “I… I never met your mother. Arthur spoke very
fondly of her.”

     Dustin looked up from the baby, whom she
was playing patty-cake with.  The subject of Christopher’s cousin’s missing
body did not escape her; much like her own husband, they had nothing to bury.
That was all she could seem to focus on. She was struggling not to linger on
those morose thoughts as Richard attempted to engage her in other conversation.

     She smiled weakly at the king.  “My mother
and father were married for over twenty years,” she said. “They were quite fond
of each other.”

     “No brothers or sisters?”

     She shook her head. “Only me,” she said.
“If my father wanted a son, he never said so. He was very attentive to my
mother and me.”

     Richard was growing worried; there didn’t
seem to be many safe subjects with Lady de Lohr except for the baby.  That one
seemed safe enough.  When Christin squealed happily as her mother played with
her, Richard was glad for the diversion.

     “The child is good natured,” he said. “You
are very blessed.”

     Dustin smiled at her daughter as the little
girl slapped at her hands.           “She is a happy lass.”

     The baby was animated, finding a used spoon
from her mother’s trencher and putting it in her mouth. Marcus, across the
table, made little clucking noises and Christin turned to look at him.  He
smiled at the baby and she grinned back, broadly.  Marcus set down his cup and
reached across the table, pulling her into his arms.

     He tickled the baby and made loud kissing
noises on her fat little hands. Christin was delighted but seated next to
Marcus, David was clearly unhappy.  He continued to watch as Marcus played with
Christin until the baby grew fussy and Dustin called for Griselda.  The old
women whisked the baby from the hall and they could hear her crying upstairs,
unwilling to settle down for sleep.  As the sounds of her sleepy and unhappy
daughter faded away, Dustin sat next to the king and sipped on her wine,
thinking back to the stories of her husband’s valor and trying not to miss him
too much. It was a difficult struggle.

     And it was not a struggle missed by David
or Marcus.  They were watching her as Richard was watching them.  Now that the
baby was gone, the tension at the table was increasing.  They had behaved for
the sake of the baby but now that she was gone, there was no longer any reason
for good behavior. They ended up glaring at each other over the rim of their
cups. Finally, Richard reached his limit.

     “Enough of this,” he snapped quietly. “This
behavior will end. Am I clear?”

     Marcus averted his gaze but David continued
to stare the man down. Richard slammed his cup on the table top to get David’s
attention.

     “David,” he hissed. “Do you hear me?”

     “I hear you, sire.”

     “What is your issue with Marcus? Tell me
now and let us get this out in the open.”

     David took his eyes off Marcus, then. He
looked at the king, seeing the man’s extreme displeasure.

     “It is not a simple thing, sire,” he said,
realizing it was difficult to explain. “I do not think that….”

     Richard cut him off. “Marcus,” he addressed
him. “You will tell me why you and David are at each other’s throats.”

     Marcus was considerably less hostile when
facing his king. “He is angry with me.”

     “Why?”

     “Because… because I have come to Lioncross
to take Lady Dustin away from here and marry her.”

     Richard wasn’t surprised. It all but
confirmed the rumors of Burton’s attraction to lady de Lohr. “Is this so?” he
said. “Do you intend to take her and the baby back to Somerhill?”

     “I do.”

     Richard pondered that as he looked back to
David. “And you disagree?”

     David nodded his head, his eyes on Marcus.
“Aye, sire, I do. Lady de Lohr belongs here at Lioncross.”

     “Alone? Or with you?” Richard demanded.
“David, you are betrothed yourself, are you not? Do you intend to break your
betrothal to Emilie Hampton and marry your dead brother's wife?”

     David faltered. “Nay, my lord, I still
intend to marry Emilie,” he said. “But Lady Dustin's home is here, within these
walls. And Chris would want his child to be raised in his own keep.”

     “So you would have her stay here, alone,
simply to raise a child who will not even remember her true father?” Richard
shook his head. “If that is truly Chris' desire, then it seems most selfish to
me. Or is it that you object to Marcus personally, David? I am curious.”

     David looked at Richard. “Marcus is the
best knight in the realm now that my brother is gone, but....”

     Richard interrupted him. “That was not my
question.
Why
do you object to Marcus marrying your brother's wife?”

     David lowered his gaze, toying with his
goblet. “Because she is Chris' wife, sire,” he said softly. “She is his legacy.
If she marries Marcus, she will cease to become Chris' wife. She will be Lady
Burton, and it will almost be as if Chris was never married or never had
children. Lioncross will be empty of his family and his legacy will die.”

     Dustin fought off the tears and lowered her
head so no one could see her pain. But Richard saw her pain and he placed his
palm over her soft, white hand.

     “Christopher
is
a legend, David,” he
said quietly. “So long as there are a thousand knights to remember him and pass
on his story, his legacy continues endlessly. And that beautiful babe in the
nursery is the fruit of his loins, his legacy in the flesh. Marcus Burton would
never change that.”

     David's head shot up sharply to Marcus and
then focused on Richard once more and the king could see the doubt and grief.

     “David, Christopher will live forever in
our hearts,” he said. “What Marcus is doing is offering to wed Lady Dustin and
provide her with a stable, safe life. He is offering his companionship to her
and I, for one, think he is being quite selfless. I should think you would
appreciate knowing Chris’ wife would be well taken care of.”

     David lowered his gaze.

     Down the table was the tall figure of
Philip de Lohr. He had been listening closely to everything. He drew his
nephew's sullen glance and the attention of everyone else at the table when he
cleared his throat quietly.

     “Every time I look at you, David, I see my
brother,” Philip said softly. “I know what it is like to lose a brother,
someone I admired above anyone else. When Myles passed away, I felt toward Val
much as you do toward Dustin. She was Myles' wife and I felt that she was my
personal responsibility.” He sat forward on the table, his handsome face weary.
“But Val followed Myles shortly after in death. I honestly believe she could
not live without him and allowed whatever ailment that claimed him to claim
her. But if that had not been the case, I would have wished for someone to
offer her a new life, someone I knew and respected, and someone who would treat
her as my brother had treated her. I think Lady Dustin is very lucky to have
Marcus as her savior.”

     “Savior is a strong word, Philip,” Marcus
replied softly.

     David’s hard wall was faltering and Philip
faced him. “I suppose what I am saying, David, is this - I know how you feel. I
lost my older brother, too. Had Val lived, I know he would have wanted her to
be happy. Allow Dustin her happiness, lad. If it is with Marcus, then be happy
for them both.”

     David’s handsome face was tired and
uncertain. Dustin's head was bowed, trying so hard to fight the tears that were
nonetheless spilling onto her lap. Time ticked by as David mulled over his
uncle's words.

     Finally, David shook his head. “Uncle
Philip, Chris loved her more than anything on this earth. I just cannot believe
that, he would want her to leave Lioncross and take Christin away.” His eyes
flicked up to Marcus. “I cannot in good conscience, let her go with Marcus. I
just cannot.”