Spectre of the Sword (15 page)

The manse was dim,
smelling of fresh bread and rushes.  It wasn’t particularly a luxurious home,
but it was well appointed and comfortable. Elizabeau hadn’t seen too much of it
when she had arrived yesterday and took the time to study her surroundings. The
floors were stone on the first floor with heavy, uneven planking on the second
floor and ceiling.  A few servants milled about and the place was remarkably
well-lit with large lancet windows that, in some cases, went floor to ceiling.
The main hall had a few benches, two enormous chairs, and a massive table that
was situation before the hearth.  Dogs slept under the table and around it.

Carys and Dylan were
seated at the table along with an old man that Elizabeau had never seen
before.  Over near the hearth, Orlaith was attempting to keep Maddoc from
falling into the fire as the lad begged for a piece of freshly baked bread. As
Rhys and Elizabeau approached the table, the family turned towards them. The
old man was the first one to speak.

“Rhys!” he boomed.
“Great Gods, where have you been keeping yourself? Dylan told me that you had
returned but I accused him of lying.”

Rhys was grinning as he
walked up to the man, putting his massive hands on the old man’s shoulders and
giving him a good squeeze. “He was not lying,” Rhys winked at Dylan across the
table.  “Do not always assume that Dylan is lying. He is a thief and a
scoundrel, but he is not a liar.”

Rhett de Llion snorted
happily as his eldest nephew sat on the bench next to him.   He looked at the
man a moment, studying the strong features.  “It’s been a long time, lad,” he
finally said. “You look healthy enough. I worry about you, you know. You’re too
involved in the king’s politics.  You surround yourself with cutthroats and men
of dubious character.”

Rhys laughed softly.
“Christopher de Lohr is not a man of dubious character.”

Rhett waved him off. “I
did not mean de Lohr. He’s as upstanding as any man.  I’m talking about the
king’s men.  They’ll slit your throat as easily as talking to you. ‘Tis all the
same to them.”

Rhys’ smile faded; he
didn’t dare look at Elizabeau, still standing by the end of the table.  He
finally patted the old man on his arm and gestured in Elizabeau’s direction.

“Uncle, you’re going to
scare my wife,” he said. “Meet the Lady Julianna.”

Rhett turned his big
bulk in Elizabeau’s direction and she could immediately see the family
resemblance between Rhys and his mother and his uncle; Rhett had dark hair and
brilliant blue eyes that were as sharp as the hot summer sky.   In his youth,
Rhett de Llion had been a very handsome man.  Now he just looked old and
heavy.  But his eyes had lost none of their sharpness.

“My lady,” he reached
out and took her hand after a moment. “My nephew is indeed a very lucky man.”

Elizabeau smiled, her
eyes finding Rhys. “’Tis I who am the fortunate one, my lord.”

Rhett grunted his
approval. “I like a woman who knows her place,” he looked back at his nephew.
“She’ll make a fine wife, Rhys. Not like that other one.”

Rhys smile vanished
entirely. He opened his mouth to reply but his mother rounded the corner at
that moment with Maddoc in her arms and everyone’s attention was diverted,
including Rhys. He resumed smiling at his son until his mother walked up to
Elizabeau and extended the child to her.

“My lady,” she said. “I
do not believe you’ve had the chance to meet your son yet.  This is Maddoc du
Bois, Rhys’ son.  He now belongs to you as well.”

Elizabeau’s gentle
expression became something of a grimace of shock.  Lady Orlaith was extending
the boy and for lack of a better reaction, Elizabeau simply reached out and
took him. It was the first chance she’d had to get a good look at the boy and,
for several long moments, they simply stared at each other.  Maddoc had his
father’s coloring exactly; nearly black hair and brilliant blue eyes. He was a
gorgeous child and as Elizabeau struggled to say something to him, Rhys stood
up.

“Mother,” he admonished
softly. “They have not even met. I’m not sure that was an appropriate
introduction for either of them.”

Orlaith was defiant in
her reaction.  “There is no harm in it.  They must come to know each other
sooner or later.” She moved away from the table, waving her hands at Carys as
she went. “Come along, young woman. Lend a hand.”

Carys dutifully rose and
followed her mother from the hall.  They could hear Orlaith in the kitchens
beyond, gently barking orders to both her daughter and the servants.  Rhys came
to stand next to Elizabeau, watching the expression on her face and his son’s
face.  Neither one of them seemed particularly at ease and he took pity on
them.

“Here,” he held out his
hands to the boy. “I’ll take him.”

Elizabeau shook her
head, still gazing at the child. “That is not necessary,” she set him down
gently on the ground and took his little hand. “We shall become great friends,
Maddoc and I.”

Rhys looked at her,
feeling a strange and unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach. He would
have liked nothing better than for Maddoc and Elizabeau to become fond of each
other.  But it wasn’t a good idea, on many levels. 

“You do not have to…,”
he began.

She cut him off,
crouching beside Maddoc so she could look him in the eye. “Maddoc, do you like
horses?”

The child nodded
hesitantly. “Aye.”

“Would you like to go
outside and see the horses?”

He put a finger in his
mouth, chewing. “Aye.”

Elizabeau stood up and,
with a lingering glance at Rhys, led Maddoc outside into the sunshine.  Rhys
started to follow but his uncle stopped him.

“Help an old man to
stand,” he commanded his nephew, who dutifully helped his uncle rise from the
bench.  Rhett grabbed the enormous cane that was propped against the side of
the table. “Let us attend your new wife as she becomes accustomed to your child
and we can speak more on things regarding London.”

Rhys watched his uncle
struggle with his gait; his walking was worse than he had remembered.  Being
injured in battle many years ago, coupled with a diseases of the joints, had
rendered the once-powerful man nearly immobile.  But still, Rhett struggled
through it with his usual resolve.  The man was, if nothing else, determined.

“Nothing much is
happening in London,” Rhys said casually as they headed for the door. “I’m more
interested to know what has happened around here.”

Rhett snorted. “Nothing
worth discussing,” he replied.  “Carys had a suitor a few weeks ago, but Renard
chased the lad off.  He was just a peasant boy, but he adores Carys.”

Rhys smiled weakly as
they walked into the bailey, basking in the bright sunlight.   “She is sixteen
years now.  Renard will have to come to grips with the fact that his only
daughter must soon find a husband.”

“Aye, but not a peasant
boy,” Rhett scoffed. “Now, in my day, I had every noble woman in London
pursuing me at one time or another.  Most of them were trollops but a few were
worth the effort.”  He eyed Elizabeau in the distance, kneeling with Maddoc
beside a patch of weeds on her way to the barn. “I would wager to say that your
Lady Julianna was worth the effort, eh?”

Lying to his family was
one thing. But Rhett had been a great knight once and Rhys knew the man could
keep a secret.  In fact, he almost felt a burning desire to tell him, someone
to help share this burden with him.  He was becoming too emotionally involved
and it would be wise, in his estimation, to have someone without emotional
investment in the matter knowing the situation. Perhaps it would help him think
more clearly.

“She is worth every
effort,” he muttered. “And she is not my wife.”

Rhett looked at him, not
particularly surprised. He knew his nephew was entrenched deep in the heart of
England’s politics where things on the surface were not always what they
appeared to be.   He was perhaps the only person in the family aside from
brother Berwyn and Rhys’ brother, Rod, who truly understood that.

“Who is she?” he asked
quietly, nonchalantly.

“She is the next ruler
of England.”

That bit of information
received a reaction; Rhett’s eyebrows rose and he refocused on her.

“Then why is she here,
with you?” he asked.

Rhys sighed heavily, his
brilliant blue gaze never leaving the distant pair. “Because I am escorting her
to rendezvous with her betrothed and the king’s assassins are everywhere. De
Lohr thought this would be the safest place for her, somewhere that John would
never think to look.”

Rhett wriggled his bushy
gray eyebrows. “Then you have had a time of it, I would imagine.”

“More than you know.”

Rhett looked at him,
then. “I can hear it in your voice, lad. What more is there?”

Rhys spilled out the
entire tale.  Rhett listened quietly, staring at the ground thoughtfully and
never once reacting to anything he was told.  Once or twice, he looked over at
Elizabeau, still crouched by a cluster of grass and evidently attempting to
explain something to Maddoc.   When Rhys was finished, he continued to stare at
the ground as he mulled over the situation. He leaned heavily on his cane,
indicative of his level of thought and the burden of knowledge he had been
given.

“Well,” he finally said,
lifting his gaze to meet Rhys. “You certainly have situation on your hands. I
never thought to hear such a thing coming from you.  You were always our rock,
Rhys.  As strong, unbending and unmovable as one.”

Rhys felt rather sick
after explaining everything.  He nodded faintly at his uncle, looking over to
Elizabeau and Maddoc when the boy suddenly screamed with delight at something
Elizabeau put in his hand.  They realized it was a frog when it leapt out and
began scampering across the dirt of the bailey with Maddoc and Elizabeau in
pursuit.  Rhys exhaled slowly and ran a weary hand through his dark hair.

“I know what I must do,”
he said quietly. “But it is not necessarily what I want to do.”

Rhett was still leaning
heavily on his cane, watching the toddler chase the frog. “You broke the
cardinal rule of knighthood,” he muttered gently. “You fell in love with a lady
you were only supposed to show knightly chivalry towards.  You let your guard
down; you allowed yourself to feel emotion rather than simple compassion.  You
let her in.”

Rhys looked at him, the
wise old uncle he had always been attached to.  He felt defeated, rebuked. “I
know,” he couldn’t look the man in the eye. “The worst part is that she loves
me as well.”

“It does not matter. You
have a mission, Rhys; she is your mission. That is all she can ever be.”

Rhys heard his own words
echoed in his uncle’s statement; he knew the truth of it with every breath he
took. But it did not make the situation any easier.  “I am supposed to wait
here another week before taking her to Ogmore,” he said. “I do not want to take
her at all, yet I want to take her there today and then run as fast as I can
away from her. Does that make any sense?”

Rhett snorted
ironically. “It does indeed. Do you want my advice?”

“Aye.”

“Then my suggestion
would be that you give this duty over to another, as soon as possible.  The
more time passes, the more difficult this will be for the both of you.”

Rhys kicked at the
ground. “I cannot give this over to anyone else and you know it,” he said
quietly. “I would have to explain my reasons for doing so and I cannot do
that.”

Rhett was nodding his
head before Rhys finished.  More screaming caught his attention as the frog
apparently leapt into the folds of Elizabeau’s surcoat and she was yelping as
she tried to shake it free. Rhys and Rhett watched her dance about, grinning at
her antics.  Not only was she beautiful, but she was humorous as well.

“I think it’s more than
that,” Rhett said as his looked at his nephew, his eyes twinkling. “’Tis the
simple fact that you do not want not want to turn her over to anyone else.  But
you have placed yourself in a dangerous position, Rhys. To spend more time with
her will only deepen your feelings for her. And if you deflower the lady,
then…”

Rhys made a face and
turned away. “Christ, do you have to be so vulgar about it?”

“I am only stating what
could be the natural progression of your feelings for her. What happens if she
goes to her intended compromised? All eyes will turn to you and you will be in
more trouble than you know.  All of your service with de Lohr and de Burgh will
be at an end. They will never trust you again.”

Rhys stopped his pacing
and looked at his uncle. “Then what would you suggest?” he snapped softly in a
true display of emotion. “For I am terrified of this position I find myself in
and I do not know what to do about it other than complete my mission as
ordered. But I fear that will be an inhuman feat of strength and I do not know
if I am strong enough.”

Rhett eyed his nephew a
moment as the commotion with the frog died down; Elizabeau had managed to
remove it from her skirts and once again placed it gently into Maddoc’s hands. 
He watched Rhys as the man observed the interplay between his son and the lady,
reading the emotions across his face.  It was surprising and, frankly, pleasing
given the fact that Rhys was not one to show emotion.  Gwyneth had long since
killed that ability in him.  But with the introduction of Lady Elizabeau, Rhett
could see how very much was at stake.  His heart ached for his nephew.