Rise of the Defender (65 page)

     “John is not looking to dispose of me; he
is looking to destroy everything that I am,” Christopher raged. “I cannot allow
this crime to go unpunished.”

     “You can and you must.” Marcus was up,
standing next to David. “John is above the law, unanswerable to all except God
and Richard. You cannot touch the man, Chris. You
know
that.”

     Christopher was shaking with fury, his jaw
clenching and unclenching. “I can still kill Ralph.”

     “John would have you executed for murder,”
Marcus said evenly. “You are not thinking clearly, Chris. Go in and see your
wife and calm yourself.”

     Christopher's eyes met Marcus' and David's.
He gnashed his teeth with the helplessness he was feeling.

     “Christ,” he muttered. “I command the
crown's troops and I can do nothing against an attack on my family.”

     “Go in and see Dustin,” David repeated
Marcus' suggestion.

     Reluctantly, he moved from the door, his
great body tensed. The knights re-dispersed themselves, weary from the day's
events.

     “Who shielded my wife?” he asked as he moved
for the bedchamber door.

     “I did,” Marcus said. “And then she
shielded herself. Do you know the woman can use a mace, and use it well? She
felled three soldiers herself, if you can believe it. I was amazed.”

     Christopher looked at him without surprise.
“I can believe it,” he said.

     “What about Richard, Chris?” David asked.
“Have you heard anything else?”

     “Nay,” Christopher replied, his hand on the
latch. “He is missing and the justices meet tomorrow before the tournament to
discuss the future of Richard’s government. John, I am sure, is claiming two
victories this night.”

     “Two?” David asked.

     “Aye,” Christopher nodded absently. “The
attack on my knights and wife, and the vanishing of his brother.”

     Edward and Leeton had not heard of
Richard's disappearance, and they turned astonished faces to their liege. He
acknowledged them with a wave of the hand.

     “Marcus will tell all,” he told them
quietly. “I will see to my wife now.”

     Christopher quietly opened the chamber door
and entered, shutting the panel softly behind him.  It was dark inside and his
gaze found his wife upon the great bed. Dustin was asleep, snoring softly and
buried under a mound of covers. Dustin’s maid sat by the glowing hearth, rising
to her feet when she saw Christopher.

     “How is she?” he whispered, his eyes on his
wife's sleeping face.

     “She fell asleep not an hour ago, my lord,”
the woman replied. “The physician gave her a medicine for the pain but she
fought sleep, waiting for you to return.”

     He nodded briefly and dismissed the woman.
With grunts of relief and fatigue, he stripped off his armor, peeling off his
clothes until he was nude. As he moved around the bed, he noticed the puppies
sleeping soundly on a pile of rags and he skirted around them quietly.

     Dustin was on her back, both arms over the
top of her head. He was flooded with relief as he sat on the bed beside her,
knowing her fate could have been that of young Trent, so tremendously thankful
that a slice to her leg was all she had suffered.

     He reached out and stroked her hair,
touched her silk cheek. It began to occur to him that bringing her here to
London had not been a wise choice. He had convinced himself that he would be
able to protect her better were she with him, but that had been far from the
truth. Now, with Richard's fate unknown and John's imminent plans to usurp the
throne, he knew that she would be safer at Lioncross Abbey. They would all be
safer, knights included. But if John planned to conquer Richard's holdings and
loyalists, he would have to do it keep by keep, and Lioncross would surely be
at the top of the list. Christopher, as commander of the crown's troops, would
find himself fighting John at every turn.

     He sighed, caressing her head tenderly.
Mayhap she would not be safe at Lioncross; if not, then where could he send
her? Certainly not Nottingham, nor Lohrham Forest.  Then a thought occurred to
him; Marcus’ new keep was in the north, near York. That was nearly as far north
as one could get, terribly far away from London.

     Marcus could not fight, not with that arm.
But he could protect Dustin and defend his keep from any attack. And if
Christopher reinforced Marcus' troops with two hundred more crown troops it
would provide ample protection for his wife. But,
Christ
, he didn't want
to be away from her, not even for a minute. He knew now that keeping her here
at Windsor was entirely selfish on his part; he could not protect her any
better here, and tonight's incident was a prime example.

     But to send her with Marcus… his thoughts
lingered on the obvious. The two of them, alone in the north, with Christopher
far away… Marcus was greatly attracted to Dustin, still. Christopher knew
that.  He had to admit that he didn’t trust Marcus not to make another move on
his wife and if he was honest with himself, perhaps he didn’t trust Dustin not
to resist.  They were the foolish thoughts of a weary man and, for the moment,
he pushed it all aside. He didn’t want to think about it anymore this night.

     George jumped onto the bed, his beady
little monkey eyes blinking rapidly at Christopher as he crawled around
Dustin's head and settled himself on the top of the pillow. Christopher sighed
and moved over his wife, snuggling into the bed beside her and being mindful
not to jostle her leg. He knew from experience how painful such wounds could
be.

     With two hours until dawn, he slept.

CHAPTER TWENTY

     The morning dawned bright and clear,
unusual for the time of year but very pleasing to the occupants of Windsor.
There was a cool breeze lifting the banners about the tournament field as the
grounds came alive with knights and servants, groomsmen and squires, all
preparing for the exciting day ahead.

     Christopher had risen and bathed in the
antechamber so as to not wake his wife. His squire and two other young boys sat
in the corner polishing the rust from his armor. George, ever curious, had
followed Christopher into the room and sat perched on a chair as the baron
bathed, screaming a monkey scream when Christopher flicked water at him and
drawing laughter from the boys.

     Christopher donned his breeches and heavy
linen shirt, pulling on his boots, as one of Dustin's maids brought the morning
meal into the room, followed closely by David. His brother had brought his own
squire and soon four boys sat in the corner polishing two sets of armor.

     “How is Dustin?” David yawned, breaking
apart a hunk of cheese.

     “Still asleep,” Christopher replied,
drinking a warmed mulled wine brew. “What about you? Did you get any sleep?”

     “About an hour,” David replied. “Marcus
probably didn't sleep at all. He is devastated with his cousin's passing.”

     Christopher grunted in sympathy, sipping at
his cup. “David, I made some decisions last night,” he said. “With the
uncertainty of Richard's future, I have decided to leave Windsor. I am afraid
that last night was only a foretaste of what is to come.”

     David nodded. “That is wise,” he said.
“Dustin shouldn't be here with John and Ralph on the prowl. They came for her
last night, you know. She belongs back at Lioncross.”

     “She's not going back to Lioncross,”
Christopher said, noting the expression of surprise on his brother's face.
“David, when John goes through with his plans to seize the throne, and have no
doubt that he will, Richard's loyalists will be his first targets. Lioncross is
too close to London to be safe for my wife.”

     “So… what?” David wanted to know. “Where
will you send her?”

     Christopher took a healthy drink of his
brew. “With Marcus to Somerhill.”

     David eyed him warily. “Chris, what are you
talking about?”

     Christopher sat forward, his expression
grim. “David, John is raising a mercenary army and the justices believe he
intends to forcibly seize Richard's holdings, especially now that Richard is
missing,” he said in a lowered tone. “Obviously, if that happens, you and I and
all of Richard's troops will move to halt him and civil war will ensue. I
intend that Dustin should be as far away as possible, with Marcus, at
Somerhill.”

     “Marcus will not be fighting with us?”
David demanded, his emotions running high as usual.

     “With his arm useless? I would not allow
it,” Christopher said.

     “But you will allow him to protect your
wife, to be with her day in and day out, while you defend Richard's throne?”
David hissed. “You may save your king's throne, but you may also lose your wife
in the process. Think on it, Chris. Marcus loves Dustin and in your absence,
you know what could happen.”

     “It will not,” Christopher snapped quietly,
eyeing the squires in the corner. “Dustin is my wife and she loves me. I will
have to trust them both, David. What else can I do?”

     “Send her to Lohrham. Or to Bath.” David
insisted. “Jesus, Chris, do not send her into the wilds with Marcus. You shall
never get her back.”

     Christopher sat back in his chair, his
expression icy. “I have made my decision, David. I must do what's best for my
wife.”

     David acted as if it was
his
wife
being sent away. “You are wrong.”

     Before they could argue the subject
further, the door to the bedchamber opened.  The men turned to see Dustin
standing in the doorway.

     “You are back,” she said, her focus on
Christopher. “I thought I heard your voice.”

     “Dustin,” Christopher said as he got out of
his chair. “You shouldn't be up, sweetheart.”

     She met him halfway, throwing herself into
his arms. He hugged her deeply and then tried to swing her into his arms, but
she protested with a grunt of pain.

     “I am sorry,” he said gravely, lowering her
back to the ground. “I did not mean to hurt you, sweet.”

     “I am fine, really,” she said, but she was
pale. Then she glanced over at David. “Good morn, David.''

     Before David could answer her, Christopher
lifted her gingerly. “Back to bed with you, lady. That leg requires rest to
heal.”

     Her brow furrowed. “The physician said it
is not too deep and I do not feel like staying in bed. The tournament is
today.”

     “No tournament for you,” he said firmly,
swinging her back into the bedchamber.

     “But, Chris,” she protested, gripping his
neck tightly to prevent him from laying her down on the bed. “My leg will heal.
The physician stitched it and wrapped it tightly, and I can walk on it. I must
get ready for the tournament.”

     David listened to them argue, hearing
Dustin challenge and complain and cajole in response to Christopher's firm
denials. When Dustin got mad and called him a less-than-ladylike name, David
shot a reproachful glare to the gigglers in the corner. The sun rose steadily
and the fight ensued, much to David's amusement.

     As he sat there listening to his brother's
wife rant, it occurred to him how much this woman had become a part of their
lives. Not just Christopher's, but his as well. It was as if she had always
been a part of their lives and he almost could not remember what it was like
before she graced them with her light.

     His infatuation with her had banked to
respectful appreciation, but he had to admit he was fiercely protective of her
when it came to Marcus. Mayhap it was jealousy, but whatever the case, he
didn't trust Marcus where Dustin was concerned and he thought his brother's
intention to send Dustin north with the new baron to be foolish.

     The door to the bedchamber suddenly slammed
shut with a resounding noise, rattling the utensils on the table before him.
Even with the door closed, he could hear Dustin shouting and Christopher's even
responses. David took a last swig of wine and rose, going across the room to
see how his armor was coming along. The squires, proud of their work, displayed
the shiny pieces for him.

     Something banged heavily in the other room
and he heard Dustin yelling loudly. He couldn’t really make out her words, but
whatever they were, they were angry. Casually, he held his arms out while his
squire pulled his hauberk on, acting as if there was nothing unusual occurring
at all. But the young squires had big eyes as the banging and shouting
continued. David thought it all rather comical.

     He finished dressing, including the tunic
bearing Christopher's colors. This was a newer tunic, made a few days ago when
he had tunics made for Marcus, Dud and Trent. David wondered if Marcus would
even be wearing colors today, even though he would be acting as Dustin's
escort. And he had no doubt Lady de Lohr was coming, although he pondered the
question of whether or not she would award trophies.