The Dark One: Dark Knight (49 page)

     Arik nodded, wiping his hands with a rag
Eudora had handed him.  “It looks fairly deep, but clean,” he commented. 
“Barring any great unforeseen damaged, it should heal completely.“

     Gaston nodded, gazing down at her huddled
body.    “Nevertheless, I would have my surgeon take a look,” he motioned Arik
closer so that he would not have to raise his voice.  “I want you to find
Mari-Elle and confine her to the vault.  I will deal with her alone. “

     Arik looked at his lord, knowing he fully
intended to murder his wife and thinking it was high time the woman got what
was coming to her.  “Aye, my lord.”

     Gaston nodded faintly, turning to look at
the women gathered just into the shadows.  “I shall remain with her. You may
return to your rooms.

     “But this... this is my room,” Jasmine
hiccupped, her face pale.

     “Then take Remington's bed,” Gaston told
her.  “And check on Dane to make sure he is well.”

     Obediently, the sisters filed out behind
Arik, but Eudora lagged behind a moment.

     “You look exhausted, my lord,” she said to
Gaston. “Might I bring you a warm drink?”

     He glanced at the old woman a moment,
nearly dismissing her, but suddenly the thought of warm wine appealed to him.
“Thank you, madam. That would be appreciated.”

     Eudora smiled a motherly smile.  “I shall
be right back, lamb…I mean, my lord.”

     Embarrassed at her slip, for she was very
used to addressing her charges affectionately, she quickly left the room and closed
the door softly behind her.  Gaston smiled faintly as the footfalls faded,
lingering on the pet name.  He had been called a lot of things before, but
never a lamb.

     “Lamb?” Remington murmured. 

     He looked down at her.  “That's enough from
you,” he said with feigned severity, crouching down beside the bed.  “Are you
going to let go of my hand long enough to allow me to remove my sword and
mail?”

     She shook her head every so faintly, her
eyes still closed.  He gazed at her bloody hair, stained neck, thinking he had
never been more relieved over anything in his life.  The panic, the fear he had
felt during those bleak moments when he thought she might have been killed were
the very worst moments of his life and he was grateful to whatever god watching
over them that she was alive.

     Had the knife found its mark a couple of
inches lower, or mayhap a bit more to the center of her chest, he would have
lost her for sure.  His stomach twisted painfully at the thought and he wearily
chased the horrifying ideals away.  He could not lose her, not when she was
becoming his all for living.

     Mari-Elle would pay dearly for her
transgression.  He already hated her so much he was beyond hating her anymore.

     Eudora returned a half hour later to find
him sitting on the floor next to the bed, Remington clutching his right hand to
her breast.  She entered silently with a tray, gazing down upon Remington's
sleeping head.

     “Can you remove your hand to eat?” she
whispered to Gaston as she set the tray down.

     He was desperately tired.  He let out a
long sigh as he glanced at Remington's sleeping face.  “I tried once and she
started to cry.”  Carefully, slowly, he dislodged his hand and was glad when
she continued to sleep.  Rising stiffly, he looked over at the food and drink on
the tray.  “Thank you, Eudora.  I am rather famished now that I think on it.”

     The old woman flushed at the use of her
name by the mighty and powerful Dark Knight.  “My pleasure, my lord.  Would you
like me to return later to sit with her so that you can get some sleep?”

     Gaston took a sip of the hot, spicy wine. 
“Nay, madam, I will remain with her.  Dane will need you, as will her sisters. 
I can take care of Lady Remington.”

     Eudora nodded and moved for the door. 
Suddenly, she paused, her gaze falling on Remington once more.  “Lord
Stoneley…, he did not care for her as a husband should,” she looked embarrassed
to be voicing her thoughts.  “I am glad that you are kind to her, my lord. 
She's had so little kindness.”

     He looked at the old woman a moment before
gazing to Remington.  He took another satisfying sip of his warmed wine.  “Your
concern is appreciated.”

     Eudora lowered her gaze and slipped from
the room.  Gaston stood there and drank his wine, watching Remington sleep with
an overwhelming sense of possessiveness.  Never again would she be unprotected,
out of his sight or no.  He wondered what had transpired, how Mari-Elle had
found her and how the fight began.  All questions she would answer later, for
he intended to ask only one question of Mari-Elle before he cut her heart out.

    
What in the world possessed you, madam?

     He was half-finished with his meat pie when
there was a knock on the door.  Annoyed at being disturbed, he answered it with
a less than pleasant expression.

     Jasmine stood hesitantly in the corridor
and he raised his eyebrows expectantly at her.

     “My lord, Dane is not in his room, and he
is not with Charles in the tower,” she said reluctantly. “Might you know where
he would be?”

     Gaston leaned heavily on the door, having
difficultly believing the course this night was taking. It was hard to keep the
annoyance out of his tone.  “Nay, I do not.  Call to the soldier at the base of
the stairs and tell him to send Patrick and Antonius to me, please.”

     Jasmine scooted away and Gaston closed the
door, moving to put his sword back on.   Between Remington, Dane and Mari-Elle,
it would appear that he would get no rest this night; yet, truly, he was far
too worked up to sleep.

     With Eudora and Patrick inside the chamber
and four soldiers guarding the door, Gaston felt confident enough to leave
Remington and go in search of Dane.  As much as he hated to leave her, he felt
a distinct sense of foreboding at the boy's absence; if Mari-Elle was capable
of stabbing the mother, there was no telling what she might do to a defenseless
boy.  He did not even know if Mari-Elle had been located yet, for Arik had yet
to return to him.  All he knew was that he had to find the boy and see for
himself that he was all right.

     Sending Jasmine off to bed, he took Antonius
with him in search of Dane.

     The first place he went to was Charles’
tower room.  The lad was up, even in the middle of the night, hunched over a
table reading a leather-worn book.  Gaston and Antonius entered the open door,
casting an interested eye over the mysterious room.

     “My lord Gaston,” Charles hopped off his
stool.  “Jasmine told me of Remi's misfortune.  How can I serve you?”

     Gaston cocked an eyebrow at the symbol of a
pentagram. “Mayhap you have a sorcerer's cauldron to tell me where to find
Dane?”

     Charles grinned.  “Nay, my lord, no magic. 
Only experiments and such.  Pray, did you check the stables?”

     “Not yet,” Gaston replied. “But I shall.  I
only came here to make sure he wasn't turned into a table or vanished into the
walls.”

     “I swear to you, I know no magic,” Charles
reiterated.  “But I shall help you search for him if you wish.”

     Gaston waved the boy with him and Charles
leapt at the chance to work side by side with the Dark Knight, however small
the task.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

     Dane had always liked the smell of hay. 
There was something comforting about it, and when he and Trenton fled the
dining hall, there was no doubt as to their destination, in the hay, far away
from the fighting and yelling.  Sweet, consoling, and shielding were the lofts
of Mt. Holyoak's stable.

     There were soldiers milling about but none
paid much attention to the boys as they tore into the stable area, taking the
ladder to the loft high above the stalls.  All that mattered to Dane was
getting as far away as he possibly could, and Trenton was following blindly.

     They scrambled far back into the loft
against the stone supporting wall, huffing and puffing.  No one spoke for a
minute as they caught their breath, frightened that somehow they had been
followed, that someone would appear at any moment to drag them back into the
heated argument.

     “Why ... why did we come here?” Trenton
found his voice, observing his surroundings.

     “Because it's safe,” Dane insisted.  “I
always come here when there is fighting and it is safe.”

     Trenton looked at the younger boy a moment,
studying him.  “Do your parents fight a lot, too?”

     Dane avoided his gaze, settling back on the
straw.  “All the time.” 

     Trenton thought a moment. Sometimes he felt
as if he were the only child on earth whose parents fought constantly.  When
they were together, that is.  He felt himself warming just a bit more to his
new friend.

     “My mother and father fight every time my
father comes home,” he said quietly.  “Finally, he just started staying away
more and more.  I had not seen him in a year until we came to Mt. Holyoak.”

     “Does he beat her
?”
Dane asked.

     Trenton shook his head.  “Nay, but I have
heard him tell her he would like to throttle her.  He's never hit her.”

     “Never?” Dane looked surprised.  “My father
hits my mother every day almost.  Why does not he hit her if she is
disobedient?”

     Trenton shrugged.  “I do not know, he just
does not.  But they do not like each other; in fact, my mother hates him.”

     “Why?” Dane simply couldn't imagine anyone
hating Gaston.

     Trenton settled back on a pile of straw and
grabbed a stalk.  “I do not know.  Maybe because he's never home.”

     Have not you asked her why she hates him?”
Dane pushed.

     Trenton shook his head.  “Nay.”

     Dane pondered this point of view for a
moment.  “Do you hate your father?”

     “Nay,” Trenton shook his head.  “I wish...
I wish I could be just like him.  I want to be as great a knight as he is.”

     Dane looked at him sharply; that was his
dream, as well.  Jealousy spread over him but he fought it down as best he
could.  “We’re going to be fostering together, you know.”

     “I know,” Trenton said.

     Dane shoved his thumb to his chest.  “I am
going to be the best.  I am going to work harder than anyone.”

     Trenton's brow furrowed.  “Not harder than
me. I am going to be just like my father.”

     Dane prepared to retort sharply but bit it
back, sulking back against the hay.  Eyeing Trenton hostilely, he shoved a
piece of hay in his mouth and worked it thoughtfully.  “We are a lot alike, you
know.  We both have parents who hate each other and fight a lot.”

     Trenton lay down, too, feeling very tired
from the day's events.  “I am not going to fight with my wife.  I am going to
marry someone I like, mayhap the prettiest girl in the realm.  I'd never fight
with her.”

     Dane lifted his eyebrow critically.  “I am
never going to get married.”

     “Why not?  Do not you want sons to carry on
your name?”  Trenton demanded.

     Dane shook his head stubbornly.  “Wenches
is no good.”

     Trenton looked at him a moment, crossing
his arms behind his head and chewing on hay in an exact imitation of his
younger, wiser friend.  Dane seemed to know it all, whereas Trenton was more
apt to follow than lead.

     “All right, mayhap I won't get married,”
Trenton said begrudgingly.  “But I shall keep a pretty woman just the same.”

     Dane shrugged carelessly, staring at the
ceiling.  “Me, too.  But no wife.”

     “No wife,” Trenton agreed.

     Exhausted and left to their own thoughts,
Dane fell asleep first.  Trenton followed shortly.

     Safe from the hell of the castle in the
bosom of the stable, they slept dreamlessly.

     Arik met up with Gaston in the middle of
the outer bailey.  “Mari-Elle is no-where to be found, Gaston.  We have combed
nearly the entire keep.”

     “She's around here somewhere and you will
find her,” Gaston said shortly.  “Take every man I have if you have to and find
her.   She’s off running loose and I cannot find Dane.”