Rise of the Defender (94 page)

     He flipped up his visor, delicate flakes of
snow touching his face as he gazed into the face of the woman he loved with all
of his heart. He ached with loneliness already.

     “Leeton and Sir Nicholas will be joining me
as soon as you are settled,” he said, his throat tight with emotion. “Max,
Anthony and Jeffrey will be remaining with you at Lioncross. Obey them, Dustin,
for I do not want to have to worry about you while I am away.”

     Much to her surprise, she found her tears
were gone and replaced by a warm feeling of trust and love. Christopher seemed
more distressed than she did.

     “I promise, I will obey them,” she said
with a saucy bat of her eyelashes. “Even if it kills me, I shall be agreeable.”

     Her courage soothed his own aching heart
and he managed a smile. “If you are agreeable, 'twill be a small miracle. Now
ride on and join Deborah, sweetheart. Take care of yourself.”

     She smiled beautifully, gathering Hercules'
reins. He wanted to see her smile, and she would oblige him. “Be safe, husband.
Take care of Harold.”

     He glanced down and saw that the dog was
indeed sitting politely by his destrier. He groaned. “Christ, Hal. What am I
going to do with you?”

     “Feed him, let him warm your bed,” Dustin
teased softly.

     Christopher reined his horse close to her.
“You are the only one to warm my bed, wife. But I will feed him,” he reached
out a massive gloved hand and swallowed up half of her head. “Give me a kiss.”

     Dustin almost unseated herself as she
responded to him, the most loving kiss either one of them could remember.

     “Go,” his throat was tight again. “Leeton
is waiting for you.”

     Dustin turned Hercules around, throwing one
last glance at Christopher. He waved at her, watching as she spurred her horse
like a man and raced back along the column toward Leeton, waiting patiently by
the road on his roan destrier. Christ, he felt as if his heart was being ripped
from his chest, but he forced himself to tear his eyes from her.

     Slamming down his visor, he drove his
destrier in the direction of his northward-bound army.

RISE OF
THE DEFENDER:  LONG LIVE THE KING

Part 3

***

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

     Christopher and his mighty army were not in
time to save Tickhill Castle from being consumed by John and his forces. Led by
Sir Dennis and his band of mercenary generals, they were a surprisingly strong
and disciplined army and the crown troops lay siege to Tickhill for nearly two
weeks before retreating. John was anchored in deeply at Tickhill and
Christopher reluctantly decided to pull back to a safe distance to anticipate
John's next move. Tickhill was lost for the moment and it was difficult for him
to admit it.

     As Christopher knew, the army was not to
stay at Tickhill. After establishing jail-like security in and around the
fortress, the army banded together once again and moved northwest toward York.
Christopher found himself chasing after the army as a mother after an unruly
child. The mercenary army would attack every fortress in their path and the
crown troops would be there to defend and repel, losing a few castles but
saving more than they lost.

     It was frustrating, exhausting work, for
John was grimly determined to seize England castle by castle, hoping to shut
off the north from the rest of the country and conquer it keep by keep.

     Christopher knew the tactical planning to
be Sir Dennis'. The man was a cunning soldier, if not a bit reckless. He had a
huge army with voracious fighters that he used handily, moving from one castle
to the next with incredible speed. Christopher had a devil of a time keeping up
with them.

     February moved into March, and March into
April. His thirty-sixth birthday came and went on the battle field, the same
day that Edward suffered a nearly mortal wound to the groin. The knight hovered
one step above death for nearly a week before showing any improvement, and
Christopher sent him back to Lioncross as soon as he was able to travel. Edward
carried with him a special written message for Lady de Lohr from her husband,
and Christopher had slept the night before with the message clutched to him,
knowing it would soon be touching Dustin's own hands. He missed her more than
words could express.

     Spring came and went, moving into summer
and Christopher found himself in East Anglia outside of Norwich. He had
relatives here but did not stop to visit. The justices had been sending him
regular communication regarding Richard's situation; a circumstance still
unimproved. Richard was well, still being held captive, and the justices were
in the process of raising the ransom demand. All they asked of Christopher was
to control John as best he could. More and more of Richard's troops were coming
home from the Holy Land every day and soon Christopher would have another army
larger than the one presently under his command waiting at Windsor. With over
four thousand men, he would surely destroy John and regain the seven keeps he
had been unsuccessful in defending.

     With the heated summer months, the battles
seemed to wane and eventually there was a strained stand-off. John still held
seven castles but he had made no more advances and the majority of his field
army, including Sir Dennis, had retreated to Nottingham. The situation was at a
stalemate, a state Christopher guessed would remain for a length of time while
John rethought his strategy. At the beginning of August, he saw his opportunity
to return to Lioncross for the first time in almost a year.

     With his troops taking a well-deserved
break in London, Christopher set off for home. He and his five knights rode all
day and all night, not pausing to rest, for they knew how eager their liege was
to see his beautiful wife. And, in faith, they were eager for the coming rest
they so very much needed.

     The humidity of August was bearable as he
crossed onto his land, his stomach twisting with excitement to be closer to
Dustin than he had been in six months. He wondered how she would react upon
seeing him, for he had sent no word ahead. He wondered if she still loved him,
or if she had forgotten about him altogether. The humidity of the day meant
nothing to him as the late morning sun beat down on his oven-like armor. He
felt nothing but relief as he rounded a crest and the mighty fortress of
Lioncross loomed in the distance.

     David reined his horse alongside, smiling
at his brother's face. “Jesus, Chris, you look like you are seeing a ghost.”

     “I feel as if I am living a dream,” Christopher
said quietly. “Christ, David, has it been so long? I cannot believe we have
actually arrived.”

     “We have,” David said with a nod, gazing
off at Lioncross. “I only hope your wife does not kill you for giving her the
surprise of her life.”

     Christopher nodded in agreement, not
replying as they drew closer to the village. Harold, racing alongside
Christopher in his customary place, suddenly took off after a rabbit and
Christopher whistled loudly to the mutt. The dog had been his constant
companion throughout the campaign and the two were inseparable. He and David
had taken to treating the dog like one of the family, feeding it from the table
and letting it sleep in its own bed. Harold had become a kind of mascot, a
tough little scrapper of a dog with a heart as big as England herself.

     Passing through the town, he saw that it
had not changed a lick and was mildly surprised when the villagers recognized
him and turned out to give him welcome. Pleased as he was, he did not
acknowledge them. His mind, his attention, was on his fortress. Anticipation
and excitement shook his belly until his hands quivered. He simply could not
wait to take his wife in his arms and tell her how much he had missed her.

     Lioncross Abbey loomed before them, the
squat and powerful walls embracing the oddly shaped keep. Shouts went up on the
wall of the fortress and the huge gates began to yawn before him. His men had
seen him coming and had turned out en masse to greet their liege. He could not
fight off the grin as his troops cheered him wildly as he passed through the
gate, his eyes raking over his structure to make sure everything was as he had
left it. Much to his pleasure, the fortress was a strong and solid as ever and
he reined his horse to a halt in the middle of the dusty bailey.

     Max and Anthony rushed to him like eager
children, welcoming him home with handshakes and claps. Christopher slapped Max
on the side of the head, demanding his wife before any words of greeting were
exchanged.

     “I should have known.” Anthony said. “He
returns not to his fortress or his men, but to his wife who has been ruling us
like Nero.”

     “Nero, did you say?” Christopher shrugged.
“That sounds about right. Where is my little Caesar?”

     “In back with her garden,” Max replied.
“She has spent nearly every day there and it thrives. Keeps that damn monkey
with her, too, and that little blond dog.”

     Christopher whistled to Harold, who was
immediately beside him. “Go find your mistress,” he told the animal, and it
darted off as if it knew exactly what he was saying.  He looked at Max again.
“Did the cat ever return home?”

     “Aye, it did, and it sleeps with your wife,
along with the other pets,” Max said. “You are going to have quite a fight on
your hands trying to claim your rightful place in bed. But, in truth, the
monkey has become rather fond of Edward and sleeps with him at times.”

     Christopher grinned and removed his
gauntlets. “Where is de Wolfe?”

     “With your wife, I imagine,” Max answered.
“He has hardly let her out of his sight.”

     “Good man,” Christopher said firmly,
pushing past the group of them. “Make yourselves useful, men. I would see to my
wife now.”

     Jeffrey exited the castle just as
Christopher entered, exchanging words of pleasant surprise with him before
pointing him in the direction of his wife. As Christopher ducked inside,
Jeffrey descended the stairs and greeted the group of returning knights.

     “I see battle agrees with you,” he
remarked, sizing up the familiar as well as unfamiliar men. “The baron looks
healthy enough.”

     “The man is immortal,” Leeton sighed,
leaning against his destrier. “But I am not. I want food and sleep, in that
order.”

     The other knights agreed heartily, yelling
for their destriers to be tended.  With the horses taken care of, they were
free to proceed into the castle and to the first decent meal in months. Max and
Anthony were chattering like magpies, filling the returning warriors in on all
of the happenings during their absence. The group of knights mounted the
stairs, all running off at the mouth like children.

     “Was the baron surprised when you told him
of his wife?” Jeffrey asked.

     Max shrugged. “We did not tell him. He will
see for himself.”

     “See what?” David demanded. “Is Dustin all
right?”

     Max grinned at his brother. “She's fine.
Better than fine,” he smirked at David. “She's with child.”

     David's mouth opened in astonishment.
“She's pregnant?”

     Anthony put his arms out in front of him,
mimicking a rounded stomach. “Verily.”

     Jeffrey shot them all reproving looks.
“'Tis disrespectful to speak of Lady Dustin in such a manner. You should show
more consideration and tact.”

     Max punched Jeffrey in the arm. “Do not be
so serious, Kessler. You know we hold the utmost esteem for Lady Dustin.”

     Jeffrey scowled as he entered the castle.
“Uncouth heathens, the lot of you.”

     Christopher was quivering with excitement.
He passed through the grand hall, making note of the interior of his keep as he
moved through and into the kitchens. The servants bowed and scraped as he
passed by, surprised their lord had returned home and scurrying to prepare a
hasty welcome.

     They were all in awe of the man, having
heard of his exploits from Lady Dustin. The cook caught sight of him and
promised him a meal fit for a king, rewarded in turn by a smile. Truth was, he
would have been even more pleased at the respect of the servants had he not
been so preoccupied with finding his wife.

     He exited the castle and into the small
kitchen bailey where Dustin kept her rabbits. It looked the same as when he had
left it; the hutch was still against the wall and well kept, loaded with
bunnies. He veered to his left and toward the great walled garden where
Dustin's mother had kept flowers, the same garden that his wife was tending
now. His palms began to sweat with anticipation as he passed through the arched
gateway.

     Inside, the garden was absolutely lovely.
He paused, his eyes falling on the blond head several feet away, sitting on the
ground with her back to him. Edward was immediately to his right, seated in a
chair made from willow branches.