A Dishonorable Knight (41 page)

She raised her head and stared at
him. "Why do you say that?"

"Because you're different
now."

"Different? How?"

Gareth pushed the hair out of his
eyes. Luckily, it was just damp enough that it stayed put and did not fall
right back into his face. "Well, you just are. You seem--I don't
know--kinder somehow. You seem to notice other people's feelings more and
people in return like you."

"They liked me before," she
said indignantly.

Gareth quickly backtracked.
"What I meant to say was they are better able to see your kind side. As a
result, they like you more."

Elena was silent for a moment. Then,
"Do you like me more?"

Now!
the
voice in his head shouted. Tell her now!

No!
he
shouted back silently. Not 'till I'm ready!

"I like you much more," he
said with feeling.

"Perhaps I have changed a little
bit. Nobody is perfect, you know."

"Certainly not," he agreed.

"It's very difficult to be close
to the king. People are forever trying to use you to gain information or favor
with the king. In return, they offer you nothing, so maybe I tended to
concentrate on my own needs first. And perhaps," Gareth could tell how
difficult all this was for her to admit. "Perhaps I have always been a
bit," she cleared her throat, "spoiled. Though that really isn't my
fault," she rushed to add. "I was an only child and my parents doted
on my many accomplishments and I received nearly everything I wanted, so it's
understandable if I may have grown accustomed to that."

"Of course it is," Gareth
agreed, trying to contain his smile. He wanted to make this easier for her and
was amazed that he was hearing those words come out of her mouth. "And you
deserve to have everything you want."

Elena suddenly shook off her maudlin
feelings and gave him a cocky smile. "I quite agree."

Amazed at her quicksilver change of
emotions, Gareth stared openmouthed at her for a moment. Then he laughed, a
loud and hearty laugh. "Nonetheless, you're still not perfect," he
said.

"Perhaps not, but you must admit
I am pretty good."

"You are very good," he
agreed, dropping his gaze to her lips. He grinned when he was rewarded with an
honest blush.

The rain had lessened by the time
they stopped to set up camp, though a fine mist still blurred the woods with a
faerie-like quality, making even ordinary looking trees seem ethereal and
enchanted. Gareth led the horses deep into the woods where the drizzle barely
reached the ground. He helped Elena down from Isrid and began unsaddling both
horses.

"Well, it's not completely dry
in here, but we should be warm enough," he said as he scooped away the top
layer of wet leaves from the well-mulched ground. Finding the leaves underneath
relatively dry, he spread out their bedrolls next to each other. Elena stood
watching, thinking that she should probably help in some way. Unfortunately,
never having worried herself with such details, she knew not the first thing to
do. Hesitant about asking Gareth for direction, she remained by the horses, petting
Isrid's velvety nose. When Gareth had arranged the small camp to his liking, he
stood and said, "I doubt I'll find any, but I think I'll look around a bit
for some dry wood. A campfire would definitely take the chill off our
evening."

"I'll go with you," Elena
volunteered.

Gareth looked at her in surprise but
wisely made not one joking remark. Instead he said, "Thank you," and
moved to tie the horses to a nearby tree.

Elena scrambled through the
underbrush with Gareth, trying to move as quietly as he did, but it was proved
to be very difficult when branches were forever catching in her hair and
snagging at her hose. Although, she reflected as Gareth helped her climb over a
moss-encrusted log, these clothes make traveling, and firewood hunting, much
easier than they would be in a gown, no matter how pretty or new that gown was.
Elena felt so unrestrained in her borrowed garb. Her hands were free from
holding hems off the ground, her legs were able to take long bounding strides
unencumbered by yards of fabric, and, though these were no doubt Gareth's good
clothes, she did not have to constantly worry about grinding dirt into the
knees or tearing the sleeve on a tree branch. Yes, Elena decided, this mode of
dress certainly had its advantages.

Elena followed Gareth's lead in
looking for dry wood, burrowing under bushes and pulling apart rotten logs.
Though she could not keep her lip from curling in disgust, she managed to keep
quiet as Gareth loaded her arms with crumbling logs off of which ants and
spiders scurried. When they finally made their way back to camp, the light was
nearly gone from the overcast sky. Elena quickly dumped her armload of sticks
and began vigorously brushing the dirt and twigs off her shirt. She could not
suppress an, "Ugh," when her hand came away from her shirt covered
with a slimy moss. With a distinctly queasy feeling in her stomach, she quickly
knelt and wiped her hand in the damp grass that carpeted the forest floor.
Still kneeling, she glanced up to see if Gareth had noticed her discomfiture.
Though he had what looked like a suppressed grin on his face, his focus was
fixed intently on building a fire from the smoldering logs. Relieved, Elena
stood and made her way to the bedrolls. They offered little cushioning from the
ground but they were dry and still warm from the body heat of the horses on
which they'd been carried. She lay back on the ground and stretched, glad to
send blood to the muscles that were weary of riding all day. Especially her
inner thighs, she thought, flexing the muscles in her legs. She was not
accustomed to riding astride and it seemed to require the use of a whole
separate set of muscles.

Settling into a comfortable position
on her side, she was content to watch Gareth stoke the now burning logs and
open the satchel containing their food.

Gareth worked steadily, breaking off
a chunk of the heavy bread and taking his knife to the slabs of hard sausage
and cheese. Standing, he fetched the boiled leather wine flask and uncorked it.
Though he worked diligently preparing their dinner, feeding the horses, and
keeping the fire going, his mind was on other things
;
specifically, his beautiful traveling companion. He wondered what had possessed
her to offer to help and marveled at her uncomplaining attitude when he had
handed her the damp and dirty branches. Of course, she had not offered to lift
a finger to help prepare the food,
but,
he
rationalized, how much work was there in tearing bread and slicing cheese? She
was, he thought charitably, acting less and less overindulged every day. As he
sat down next to her, he again wondered if she would ever consider marriage to
a poor Welsh knight.

"Are you hungry?" he asked,
handing a hunk of bread to her.

"Yes," she said without
enthusiasm and took a small nibble.

Gareth laughed. "Well don't
gorge yourself all at once on this feast."

Elena smiled. "It's good enough,
I just wish traveling didn't mean cold food."

Gareth thought a moment and then
scrambled to his feet, pushing his hair out of his eyes. He searched around in
the underbrush for several seconds before he said, "Aha!"

Elena sat up from her reclining
position. "What are you doing?"

"You want hot food, Sir Gareth
will deliver hot food." He held up a long stick proudly.

"I don't mean to offend you,
good Sir Gareth, but that does not look like roasted venison to me."

"Patience, sweet,
patience." He retrieved his knife and began whittling the end of the stick
to a point. When he was finished, the stick was bare of bark and sharply
pointed. He then skewered Elena's piece of bread, her cheese, and her slab of
hard sausage. "There we go," he said as he thrust the stick out over
the fire.

Elena watched, fascinated, as the
cheese began to bubble and turn a delicious golden color. The smell of the
roasting sausage made her mouth water as drops of grease sizzled into the fire.
Gareth carefully turned the stick, wary that the cheese did not melt off, and
when he deemed it finished, he carefully removed all three items, stacking the
meat and cheese artfully on top of the toasted bread.

"Fit for a queen," he
declared as he handed it to her.

Elena shifted her meal from hand to
hand until the bread had cooled enough not to burn her skin. She then took a
huge bite, scalding the roof of her mouth on the sizzling meat, but enjoying
the taste of the gooey cheese and spicy sausage nonetheless. When she had
managed to chew and swallow her unladylike mouthful, she looked to Gareth who
was expectantly awaiting her response.

"It's delicious," she said.
"I think I will recommend you to King Richard for the position of Chef
Extraordinaire when we return."

Gareth's grin of pleasure at her
initial response faded when she mentioned Richard. It only reminded him that
she would be out of his reach once they arrived at the king's court, and that
he was lying to her even now about his plans.

"What's wrong?" Elena
asked, worry evident in her voice.

Gareth shook his head.
"Nothing."

"Something is bothering you. Is
it what I said about making you a chef? I promise I won't tell anyone about
your cooking talents if it would make you seem less of a knight." When her
teasing evinced no response, she took another approach. "Are you having
doubts about returning to Richard?"

Startled, Gareth shook his head.
"Oh no, I was just thinking that if Cynan and Bryant found out I could
actually make something edible, they'd make me cook every night instead of the
three of us taking turns when we're out in the woods. As it is, I have to
struggle to make my meals taste bad so they'll offer to cook for me!"

Elena smiled at his response, but
Gareth sensed she did not entirely believe him. To his great relief, however,
she did not press him further and he vowed to himself to make her forget his
temporary lapse into melancholy.

With as much animation as he could
muster, he told her of his first night spent in the woods when he was a boy.
"Cynan and Bryant and I were finally allowed to go out alone all night. I
think we were about eleven years old. As we were preparing to leave the keep,
Cynan's father told us to watch out for the bog ghoul who might come steal us
away to the underworld. We all laughed, of course, because we were much too
grown up to believe in such silly monsters that used to frighten us as
children.

"As we made our way into the
forest for our grand adventure, I came up with the brilliant idea of sneaking
away in the middle of the night and pretending to be this ghoul to scare the
wits out of Cynan and Bryant."

"You Gareth? No!" Elena
exclaimed, teasing.

Gareth grinned and continued his
story. "The start of the plan worked perfectly: I snuck away as soon as
they fell asleep, I ran to the stream we were camped near and smeared my entire
head with mud. I then stuck leaves and twigs in my hair and practiced my most
ferocious growling. As I made my way back to camp, I made sure to crash about,
raising all sorts of noise sure to wake the sleeping innocents." Gareth
paused and took a swallow of wine.

"You said the start of the plan
worked. When did things go awry? Did they realize right away that it was
you?"

"Oh no, in fact, they were just
coming awake as I crashed through the bushes circling our camp. In the dying
light of the fire, I must have appeared quite ghoulish indeed. Cynan and Bryant
began screaming most pitifully." Gareth started laughing and Elena poked
him in the ribs.

"And?" she asked
imperiously. "What happened next?"

Still chuckling, Gareth continued.
"I was growling and waving my arms about while they tried to free
themselves of their blankets when I noticed something entering camp from the
opposite direction."

"What?"

"Coming into the ring of
firelight was a creature which made my pitiful attempt at a ghoul seem like
child's play. It hobbled into camp and I could see it had a huge hump on it's
back, its hair stood straight on end and foamy slobber dribbled down its chin.
It was growling horribly and reaching for Cynan who was nearest it. I swear my
eyes felt like they were going to pop right out of my head. I forgot all about
snarling and sounding demonic and instead began to scream myself. Cynan and Bryant
stopped screaming only long enough to turn around and then they joined my
chorus. We all took off in different directions into the forest, though we
somehow all managed to arrive back at the keep about the same time. We were all
blubbering like babes as we told my father our story and I remember wondering
why he didn't send out a contingent of armed men."

Gareth leaned back on the bedroll,
propping his head up on his hands. Elena curled up next to him. "And? Why
didn't he send one out?"

"As we were to discover later,
the creature who tried to attack us was actually Cynan's father."

"No! " Elena exclaimed,
disbelieving. "Was he mad?"