A Dishonorable Knight (33 page)

"Good morning," the men
chimed, Bryant quickly standing to give her his chair.

"Good morning," she
responded, glancing at each man's guilty face before settling her gaze on
Gareth. Bryant handed her a bowl of freshly picked berries and a wedge of
cheese. Elena slowly ate as she watched the men try to cover their discomfiture
by talking about the weather. What exactly had they been talking about?
she
wondered. She was given no opportunity to decipher that
puzzle as Gareth, Morgan, and Samuel stood and moved to leave.

"Where are you going,"
Elena asked Gareth.

"I must spend today with my
father," he said once the two men had left. "Bryant and Cynan will
take you to the book shop this morning and then wherever you would like to go.
I understand the beach is beautiful at this time of year. Why don't you three
have a picnic?"

"But--" Elena began,
confusion, disappointment and, yes, hurt feelings swirling within her.

"You'll be well taken care of,
Lady. Enjoy!" Turning, Gareth quickly followed his father and Samuel out.

"Well if that isn't
ill-mannered," she said.

"Yes, but that's Gareth for
you," Cynan said, trying to effect a disappointed face. "Bryant and I
have tried and tried to teach him how to behave, but you see, he's just a
heathen mountain boy at heart. Bryant and I, however," he continued with a
bow, "are experts at courtly manners and gentle entertainments."

"Are you now?" Elena said,
trying to infuse her tone with a lightheartedness she did not feel.

"Oh, Cynan, shut up,"
Bryant said, clearly disgusted.

"What? Why? Was I or was I not
acting in a manner befitting a duke, Lady Elena?"

Elena laughed in genuine amusement.
"Oh, indeed."

Cynan turned to Bryant. "You
see?"

"You need not humor him, my
lady," Bryant said. "It only makes him worse."

"You mean it makes me
better."

Bryant shook his head and looked at
Elena as if to say, "I told you so."

Sobering slightly, Cynan stole a
handful of Elena's berries and said, "Gareth said you were interested in
the bookseller across town. Shall we go there first?"

Elena nodded and finished her bit of
cheese as she stood. "I'd also like to stop by my seamstress's shop and
see how she's coming on my dress."

"Wonderful! Bryant's never been
inducted into the joys of waiting for a woman as she talks dresses with another
woman."

Elena couldn't contain her laughter
at the worried look on Bryant's face.

Outside it was nearly as beautiful as
the day before, but to Elena, something was missing. She refused to allow
herself to think that she missed Gareth's presence, but somewhere in her heart,
she knew that's what the problem was.

The walk to the bookseller's shop
seemed farther than it had the day before, but once they arrived, Elena forgot
the walk, her escorts, and Gareth's absence in her bed. The tiny, cluttered
shop was stacked from floor to ceiling, wall to wall with books. Elena was
amazed at the quantity, especially considering they were in the far reaches of
Wales.

"I've more books than most of
the shops in London," a stooped elderly man said from a wooden chair in
the corner. He laid down the book he was reading and pushed himself to his
feet, his hair a wild tangle of thin white curls.

"Yes, you do." Elena
agreed. "How did you come by them all, especially here.
"

"Think the Welsh are nothing but
illiterate shepherds, eh?" Elena was slightly taken aback and embarrassed,
but the old man laughed.

"For the most part, we
are!" He paused in his laughter to cough and wipe his mouth with a
handkerchief. "But having ships in and out of the harbor allows me to
gather books from all over the world. Look here," he said, gesturing for
Elena to follow him as he wove through stacks of books to the back corner.
"This one is from the land of sand and heathens. Look at those letters!
I'll never in a thousand years figure out what they say, but they are
fascinating to look at, aren't they? Old Magnus in the square has a son who
sails the seas. Every few years he returns home loaded with strange gifts from
far off lands. He brought this to me. Said for all their godlessness, the
heathens are very educated and write volumes."

Elena took the book from the old man
and gingerly leafed through the pages. She had heard stories of the exotic
east, passed around from the time of the Crusades. Looking at the text, she
thought, Even the script is exotic. Each page was intricately illuminated with
vivid colors and gold leaf. Strange birds and animals shared the border space
with dark-skinned men wrapped in voluminous robes, riding powerful steeds and
bearing curved swords.

"Where are their ladies?"
she asked the old man.

"Eh? Ladies? They don't allow them
to be seen."

"Don't allow them to be seen?
What do you mean?"

"Just that. Mostly the ladies
stay
indoor
where only their male folk can see them.
If they ever do go out, they are covered from head to toe in a black cloak,
sometimes not even their eyes showing." The old man opened his eyes wide
for emphasis and Elena noticed they were clear with vitality--there was no hazy
blurring of age in them.

Her mind going back to the heathen
women, she was amazed. How could you possibly flirt without your eyes? Surely
such a rule was for common women alone. "What about the royal women?"

The old bookseller scrunched up his
wrinkled face in concentration. "Seems to me Magnus's son said the women
who are important are kept even more hidden away. They live in the palace and
no men but the--now what did he call them?" He turned and rifled through
some papers strewn across the table. "Ah, I knew I'd written down. My
memory isn't what it used to be, so I make notes to myself. The sultan, that's
what their kings are called. These sultans are the only men who are allowed to
see these women."

Fascinated, Elena continued turning
the pages of the book, wishing she could read the intricate script. None of the
books she had ever read had told her about such exotic lands. She had read
accounts of Italy and even Greece and they had proven fascinating enough, but
the people in them had behaved similarly enough to those in England that they
had not seemed so alien.

"What else did he tell
you?" she asked, unable to contain her curiosity.

Obviously delighted that he had an
avid listener, he pushed a stack of books off of a low bench and wiped the dust
off with his sleeve. Gesturing for Elena to sit, he turned to Cynan and Bryant
who were standing by the door, looking decidedly uncomfortable. "You need
not wait for this young lady, she and I will be occupied for a good while. You
may leave and we will send for you when she is ready."

Cynan bowed briefly and told Elena,
"I would like to take something back to Enid. If you are comfortable, I will
leave you to this good man and return in a while."

"Of course," Elena said
graciously.

Cynan looked to Bryant expectantly.
"Do you care to join me?"

Bryant shook his head and scowled
disapprovingly. "I will wait with Lady Elena."

"There's no need, Bryant,"
Elena said.

"I will stay," he said
implacably.

Cynan looked to Elena and shrugged
his shoulders. "Enjoy your books, then."

The bookseller sat in his worn chair
with a creak of old bones and old wood. "By the way, I have not introduced
myself. I am Llywelyn, named for that great Welsh prince, but much to my
father's disappointment bore absolutely none of the warrior's characteristics
of that strong man save his name. I gather you are called Lady Elena. Despite
your Welsh name, I detect an English accent. Am I correct?"

Elena gave Llywelyn an indulging
smile and nodded. "I am rarely wrong on such things," he said as he
gestured with his chin toward Bryant. "And who might your rude friend here
be?"

Elena turned around and realized
Bryant was still standing stiffly by the door, his hands clasped in front of
him as he maintained his sentry-like pose. "Oh, that is Bryant."

"Why don't you come sit,
boy.
Your legs will go numb with you standing like that.
Besides, you might learn something."

Bryant shook his head.

Elena, anxious to hear more of the
far-off land of heathens, impatiently gestured to the bench on which she was
seated. "Bryant, do sit. Now please."

Hesitating only a moment, Bryant
hurried across the small room and seated himself next to Elena, glancing shyly
at her from the corner of his eye. More interested in Llywelyn's stories than
Bryant's silly behavior, Elena turned back to the bookseller and promptly
forgot Bryant's presence.

For the next four hours, Elena forgot
not only Bryant's presence,
but
the hardness of her
bench, the cramped tininess of the shop, and even the fact that Llywelyn was a
mere merchant and under normal circumstances would not be considered
appropriate company for a lady-in-waiting of the court. Elena lost all track of
time as she listened to Llywelyn's stories. From time to time, the small man
would push himself out of his chair and fetch a book off of this shelf or that.
He piled dusty manuscript after dusty manuscript on Elena's lap and asked her
what she thought of a particular passage or a bit of illumination.

Elena had considered herself more
educated than the other ladies at court simply because of the fact that she
could and did read. But her studies had never prepared her for immersion into
the world of academia. She found herself at times overwhelmed by Llywelyn's
questions and at other times, surprisingly comfortable thumbing through a thick
volume while she told him what she thought.

They paused at midday and Elena sent
Bryant out to purchase some fresh bread while Llywelyn heated a pot of mutton
stew over his hearth. After lunch, they pulled still more books off the shelf,
looking for accounts of the furthest reaches of globe. Cynan stopped in to see
if she was ready to leave but Elena shooed him off. He turned to Bryant who
replied that if Lady Elena was staying, so would he. Cynan shook his head in
amazement and told them he would see them back at Samuel's that evening.

So intrigued with her rediscovered
passion for books, Elena scarcely noticed when Bryant began to doze, his head
nodding forward to rest on his chest. She did not hear his muffled snore as he
slipped deeper into sleep. She did finally notice him the very moment he listed
to the right and tumbled off the bench.

Setting her book down, Elena rushed
to his side. "Bryant! Are you
alright
? What
happened?"

Rubbing his elbow and blushing hotly
with embarrassment, Bryant pushed himself to his feet. "I'm fine," he
mumbled. "I just dozed off."

"Dozed off?" She looked out
the thick window at the front of the shop. "Good heavens, what time is
it?"

Old Llywelyn laughed, coughed, and
laughed some more. "You don't know how many times I've asked that very
question. You know you are a true book lover when you ask it, though."

"I had no idea we had spent so
much time here. I--I can't buy any of your books." Elena cleared her
throat. Never in her life had she been without money or some means to purchase
something. With not a little discomfort, she apologized, "I'm very
sorry."

"Nonsense, dear girl, nonsense.
I haven't enjoyed myself in years and as you can see, I don't get many
customers. Here," he said, pulling the Arabic book from the bottom of the
stack. "I wish you to have this. To remember me by."

Elena's eyes widened. Though
accustomed to receiving gifts from men, rarely had she been given such an
expensive and extraordinary gift. Never had she been given a gift from a man,
other than her father, who had not hoped to gain her favor or even her hand. To
be offered a gift such as this from an old man who would never see her again
overwhelmed her.

"I couldn't possibly." Were
these words coming from her mouth? Of course she could accept it! "That
book is much too precious and no doubt worth a great deal of money. You must
keep it or sell it."

Llywelyn smiled and shook his head,
thin white hair flopping about his head. "A book is worth nothing if it is
not read and treasured. You may not be able to read the words, but you can read
the illustrations and you will certainly treasure it."

"I don't know what to say."
Wouldn't Gareth tease her about that if he were here? Remembering Gareth, she
knew just what he would expect her to say, and while she still wasn't
completely used to saying it, she took the book in one hand, Llywelyn's spotted
hand in her other and said as sincerely as she could, "Thank you very
much. I will indeed treasure it always." Ha, she thought, Gareth could not
complain about that! Thinking about Gareth, she did not even realize it had
happened until she was suddenly wrapped in Llywelyn's warm hug. Unsure of what
to do, she patted his back. When he released her, she quickly stepped back, but
not before noticing his eyes were damp, though he was smiling brightly.