Rise of the Defender (140 page)

     Dustin was shocked, fighting to maintain
her composure. The king was riding to her aid? It did not make sense,
especially since the man hated her. And Christopher was he coming because he
was obliged to or because he wanted to? After everything that had happened, how
could she be sure? And Marcus was alive, after all. She was relieved, of
course, but she did not like Darren's words…
’to put off their duel.’
Did
this mean the moment she was returned, they would try and kill each other
again? She simply did not know; how could she be sure of anything anymore?

     She could not, but she knew one thing for
certain; she wanted Christin away from Nottingham. If there was to be a battle,
she wanted her daughter safe. She believed she could handle John and Ralph, but
if they were to threaten Christin....she would be lost. Anxiety clutched at
her.

     “Darren, you must take Christin out of
here,” she whispered, glancing from the corner of her eye to see where her
guards were. “If there is to be a fight, she must be safe.”

     “But…my lady,” Darren protested. “I am to
protect you. I cannot leave.”

     “You must!” she snapped, drawing attention
and recovering nicely by grabbing a shoe and yelling to the cobbler that he
must make the shoe in her size. When the soldiers looked away, she took her
first look at Darren. “Darren, she must be taken to safety. She is in great
danger here.”

     “But what of you?” Darren asked urgently.
“You are in danger, too.”

     She scowled at him. “I can take care of
myself, but I cannot take care of myself and Christin. You must take her to her
father.”

     Darren was speechless. This was not part of
his plan, nor was it part of his orders. He dreaded telling her ‘no.’ “My lady,
I cannot leave you,” he whispered feebly. “Lord Christopher sent me here to
protect you.”

     She glared at him, her pretty jaw ticking.
“Protecting Christin is the most important thing in the world. Darren, so help
me, if you argue with me, I shall tell Christopher you were most disobedient.”

     His young face washed with apprehension.
“Please, my lady, do not... my orders were to protect you.”

     She ignored him, glancing behind her again
to see that Gabrielle was looking at her curiously. Quickly, she pretended to
straighten a pair of shoes. “Meet me out here in an hour. Right here, behind
the cobbler's shed. Do you understand?”

     Darren sighed with resignation. “Aye, lady,
I do. Unfortunately.”

     Behind her, there was a bit of commotion
and she turned around to see Sir Dennis la Londe approaching. Her heart sank;
she hadn't seen him since her arrival and was hoping to avoid him. Darren faded
away as Dennis smiled leeringly at her.

     “My lady,” he greeted in his heavy French
accent. “I was told of your arrival. May I say, it is delightful to see you
again.”

     She barely nodded, moving away from Darren
and back toward Gabrielle. Sir Dennis followed her closely, like an eager dog.

     “It was certainly a surprise to hear of
your visit,” he said, then glanced at Christin. “Oh, my, is this the
enfant
de Lohr? Strange, she looks like a Burton with that dark hair.”

     Dustin whirled to him, her teeth clenched.
“My mother had dark hair, if you will ask Lord Bruce, who happens to be
Christin's great-grandsire. Now, if you will excuse me.”

     She tried to push past him, but he stuck to
her like grease on a spoon. “Your grandpapa is Lord Bruce? I did not know,
chèrie
.
How fortunate.”

     She hated his sickly-sweet accent and
rolled her eyes at him in disgust. He responded by grabbing her sharply by the
arm, his big fingers digging into her soft flesh.

     “If I were you, I would behave with a bit
more respect,” his voice was cold, not at all friendly as it had been just a
moment before. “A warning this time.”

     Her nostrils flared angrily and she yanked
her arm away. “Do not presume to give me a warning of any kind, Sir Dennis. My
grandsire is your host, as is your prince. I do not answer to you.”

     She twisted away from him and walked away
with her entourage in tow. Sir Dennis watched her go with beady eyes, imagining
all sorts of deviant things in his warped mind.

     “You will,
chèrie
,” he murmured.
“Soon, you will.”

CHAPTER 
FIFTY FIVE

     Richard's army was barely rested from their
march from Windsor before they were mobilizing again in preparation of the
siege of Nottingham. The summer morning dawned warm and clear as crystal, and
Christopher was already sweating as he positioned the nearly two thousand
troops.

     It was good to be working with Marcus
again, for the man was as capable as he when it came to tactics and intuition.
He knew where Christopher wanted the men, he knew exactly where to position the
archers for maximum effectiveness, and it was no time before Christopher merely
hung back and supervised while Marcus and David streamlined the massive army.

     His heart swelled with pride as he watched
his brother and his former friend, remembering what it had been like in the
Holy Land. David and Marcus were extensions of himself and he need not utter a
word for them to know exactly what he wanted. For the moment, the hostility and
sorrow were forgotten as he watched his men work. Edward and his other knights
were serving Marcus and David well, making sure their orders were carried out.
The precise chain of command was perfect, as always, and Richard rode up astride
his dark gray steed to watch the final preparations.

     “Just like old times,” he remarked,
watching Marcus and David work like a fine-tuned team. “I'd almost forgotten.”

     “I never thought to see this again,”
Christopher said softly. “Marcus and David have been working together for over
two hours and nary a harsh word between them.”

     Richard gave a wry smile. “Amazing.”

     They watched the last of the archers being
positioned and then Edward and Sean began moving the wagons into place.

     “Darren should have found Dustin by now,”
Christopher said. “He rode into Nottingham yesterday morning and I would think
he has had ample time to locate her.”

     “Most likely,” Richard agreed. “But I am
concerned for the lad. He is not a spy, you know. He is taking a great risk.”

     “He is an intelligent boy,” Christopher
said. “I have faith that he will be cautious.”

     “Nevertheless, you know I was not very
agreeable on the proposal,” Richard said firmly. “I do not know what possible
good he can do except to get himself caught. Then we shall have one more person
to rescue.”

     “I trust Darren, Richard,” Christopher said
softly. “He has proven himself many a time, and I trust him.” “But do you trust
him with your wife's life?” Richard asked, shaking his head. “I cannot believe
you would send a seventeen year old squire into the pit of hell and expect him
to perform as a knight.”

     “I shall knight him next year myself, and I
will be proud to have him in my stable,” Christopher looked at Richard. “Do you
not trust my judgment when it comes to warriors?”

     “Of course,” Richard waved him off. “It is
just that he's not a full-fledged knight yet and….oh, hell, I do not know.
There are too many people to worry over. Darren certainly cannot protect your
wife if John sets his sights on her. To do that would be to kill a prince of
England, and I will not allow it.”

     Christopher put up a hand in supplication.
“Darren's orders are to shadow Dustin and protect her from harm, not to kill
John. Richard, I simply feel better having him with her if I cannot be. I
thought you understood that yesterday?”

     “I understand,” he muttered. “I understand
that I am growing soft and you are going mad.”

     Christopher chuckled.  Then, he sobered and
changed the subject. “Marcus and I talked last night.”

     “And?” Richard looked at him.

     Christopher sighed. “He says he will not
fight me for Dustin anymore.”

     “Do you believe him?” Richard asked.

     “I do not know,” Christopher replied. “He's
lied to me before where my wife was concerned, I suppose time will tell.”

     Richard studied the face of his mighty
Defender. “You look tired. Did you sleep?”

     “Barely,” Christopher said. “I shall sleep
when Dustin is safe beside me.”

     Richard did not say anything, glancing at
his army as David raced like hell-fire the length of the column for some
unknown reason. He could hear the knight yelling.

     “That fool is going to kill himself one day
doing that,” he murmured, then looked at Christopher again. “That wound has
taxed you greatly, hasn't it? You are still not completely well and this march
is draining your strength.”

     Christopher drew in a deep, slow breath,
looking to his king. “I shall admit that I do not feel as strong as I am used
to, but I will eventually. I am well enough to raze Nottingham and retrieve my
wife.”

     Richard shook his head. “You are either the
bravest man alive or the biggest idiot. Who would have thought you would raze a
castle for anything less than my glory?”

     They shared a small chuckle. “Not I,
Richard, and well you know it,” Christopher said. “My devotion to you was
legendary.”

     Richard's smile faded. “You say that as if
it were a thing of the past. You are still my Defender and champion, Chris. I
shall not release you from your duties.”

     Christopher shrugged and gazed back over
the army. “You will have to while I heal completely. I would suggest David or
Marcus in my stead.”

     “David is a wild man,” Richard snorted.
“And Marcus is too caught up in his own personal problems. Damnation, when did
things become so complicated? I think I shall return to Jerusalem; the situation
was a lot less complex.”

     Christopher laughed softly. “I shall send
word to Philip and Henry and make sure they meet you when you set foot on the
continent,” he jested.

     Richard snorted again, louder. “Hell yes,”
he agreed. “Why not have them add to my problems?”

     Christopher smiled broadly at his king when
a loud whistle pierced the air and he saw David give him the high-sigh,
indicating the army was ready to move. Christopher lifted his mailed fist in
response.

     “We are ready, sire,” he said to Richard.
“At your command.”

     Richard gazed out over his army, drinking
in the sight of the power under him. “I have spent most of my life fighting,”
he mumbled. “I know nothing else. My army is my family and the battlefield, my
home.” He latched his helmet. “I envy you, Chris, that you would find something
more to this life than dying and fighting and blood. That you would find love
is an amazing accomplishment indeed, and I will most likely never know the
joy.” He paused, looking to Christopher as he gathered his reins. “Let us get
your wife back.”

     Christopher slammed his visor down in
response. Richard watched a change come over the man, as visible as the rising
sun. He morphed from the concerned husband to pure warrior.

     Richard watched the transformation with
satisfaction; this was the Christopher he knew and loved. The Christopher he
had grown to know over the past few days confused him greatly, for it was
almost as if it wasn't the same man. The new Christopher felt emotion and
showed depth of character, admirable traits indeed, but confusing when one
considered that the man had never shown emotion before. Richard had felt
disoriented until this moment, this was his Defender. This was Christopher de
Lohr, the greatest warrior since Galahad or Lancelot.  He was the legend.

     “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Christopher broke into his thoughts.

     Richard suddenly realized he was smiling.
Clearing his throat, he put his faceplate down. “No reason,” he muttered.

     Marcus and David thundered up, followed closely
by Edward, Dud, and the rest of the knights. They all stood atop the slight
rise, gazing down on the mightiest army England had ever seen assembled, and
nodded with gratification.

     “My loyal knights,” Richard loved to give
pre-battle speeches, but he found this morning that none came to mind. He
decided to speak what he felt. “I am deeply pleased that we are together,
fighting as one body again. May victory be ours.”