A Dishonorable Knight (45 page)

"Why did it take you so long to
return?" asked another.

Gareth climbed off of Isrid and began
leading him to the stables, explaining as he went.

"We were separated after the
attack on the road from Middleham," he began. "I was sore injured and
knocked unconscious. When I came to, it was dark. I set up camp and
there
Lady Elena found me. She had been taken by the
attackers and then released." Gareth suddenly remembered that the story he
and Elena had agreed upon was that
she
be seriously injured. "The
good lady was in quite a bad state."

"Had she been raped?" asked
an impudent young knight he did not know.

"No! Only sorely mishandled and
dumped from her horse." Gareth wished to God that he and Elena had planned
out more carefully what exactly they were going to say. On the trip here they
had just seemed to have so many other things to talk about...Tearing his
thoughts from that path, he continued with his careful fabrication. "She
was bleeding and near unconscious herself. I was in fear that she would die
were I not to seek help, but since I am not so familiar with that part of
England, I knew not where I might find a safe place to take her for treatment
so I escorted her to my father's home."

"In Wales?" Sir Jasper
asked, disbelieving.

‘Tis not so very far," Gareth
replied.

"But you could have returned to
Middleham or continued on down the road to find us."

Gareth's mouth was going dry. He
wasn't sure he was going to be able to carry this off and he wished with all
his might that Elena were here. She was so much better at making up believable excuses.
"I knew not what had become of His Majesty's party. As I said, I had been
knocked unconscious. No doubt left for dead by the brigands who had attacked
us.
When I came to
I was surrounded by
bodies you had left behind
. For all I knew, everyone had been killed or
taken hostage."

The men nodded, recalling the frantic
flight that day. Encouraged, Gareth continued. "For all I knew, Tudor had
landed in England and was attacking. For myself, I would have sought him out
and fought to my death, but I did not want Lady Elena to fall into our enemy's
hands. Who knows what that bastard would have done to such a beautiful lady.
"
He glanced around to see if he was going too far.
"The safest thing I could figure would be to take her to a place I knew to
be safe until she recovered and I found out what had happened."

"You did well," said Sir
Jasper with approval. Gareth felt a twinge of guilt at the older knight's
praise. He had always looked up to Jasper and felt him to have one of the
levelest heads of all of Richard's spurs. That he was deceiving this man turned
his stomach sour. He removed Isrid's saddle and rubbed the warhorse down. He
remembered how as a squire he had dreamed that he would be the most honest,
most chivalrous,
most trustworthy
knight of them all.
What a farce his goal had become. He would be so glad when this whole mess was
over. Either Henry Tudor would win and Gareth would be given a chance to live
up to his youthful ideals under a new king, or he would die on the battlefield,
wherever that may be. The thought of dying did nothing to ease his nausea.

He shook his head and took a
cleansing breath. If death turned out to be his destiny, he decided
philosophically, at least he would die having told Elena that he loved her.

The next day Gareth found himself in
front of the king in the middle of a formal court. He had been summoned
midmorning and had waited these past two hours at the back of the packed main
hall, waiting for the royal high chancellor to call him forward. The messenger
who had brought him word of Richard's summons had no explanation for it. Nor
had the two-man armed escort who had made sure he arrived in the hall in plenty
of time. Though he refused to allow himself to worry over the king's desire to
see him, he couldn't help but wonder if he'd been found out. How inglorious, he
thought, to be caught and executed without having accomplished one thing for
Henry Tudor's cause.

Gareth shook his head to clear it of
such dark thoughts. That Richard could have found him out was nonsense. Who
here would possibly know of his involvement or his mission? Only Elena knew
that he had even attended the meeting in Aberstwyth and--a cold shiver of doubt
trickled down his spine. Suppose she had told Richard about Aberstwyth? No!
he
told himself. Though she had not returned his words of
love yesterday, he was certain she would not reveal his meetings with the
rebels. The doubt lingered. Gareth craned his neck, trying to spot Elena in the
crowd of richly dressed nobles sitting in the first rows of the audience. He
knew that if he could but lay eyes on her, all worry would leave his mind and
he could focus on what he might say to the king to convince him of his loyalty.
Though he stood on tiptoe and held onto the shoulder of the man in front of him
for balance, he could not make her out and had to content himself with
remembering their shared nights of passion, their companionable conversations
along the way to Nottingham, and every other incident in the past weeks that
had made him believe she must care for him, at least a bit. At least enough not
to wish to see him hung as a traitor.

What then had prompted Richard to
call him forth in court, and to send an armed escort to ensure that he arrived?
He could only wonder and hope for the best.

The high chancellor called forth one
of Richard's influential vassals from the south and announced the marriage of
the man's daughter to the son of a northern lord. Gareth wondered if it were
simply another attempt to bring the more rebellious regions of southern England
in line with the north which favored Richard and from which he drew his
greatest political support. The crowd shifted and between people's heads,
Gareth could see the prospective bride, a young girl of perhaps no more than
fifteen or sixteen, fair and blond and appearing none-too-eager to wed her
fiancée. Gareth took a step sideways to better see the young man. He was young
and good looking enough with broad shoulders and a noble brow. Gareth could not
imagine why the girl should be so reluctant looking. It was not as if she were
having
to marry an ugly old ogre like Brackley.

Brackley. Gareth searched the hall
for him, but the crush of people was too great to pick him out. Gareth ground
his teeth. So consumed was he in his own worries since receiving his summons
this morning that he had given no thought to the horrible fate Elena was
facing. He prayed that Richard would not press for the wedding to be performed
before Henry Tudor landed. He swore to himself that he would seek out the
repulsive man on the battlefield and ensure his death that Elena might be free
of the man for good.

As the royal high chancellor called
him forth before the king, Gareth prayed that he would live to see the
battlefield. He held his back straight, his head high and forced his eyes to
remain on the man who wore the crown. When he had entered the king's presence,
he presented a low and formal bow. "Your Majesty," he said clearly,
bending to one knee where he waited with bowed head for Richard's permission to
stand.

It did not come immediately. Instead,
he remained on his knee while the hall quieted. Still Richard did not speak.
Gareth felt a glimmer of sweat coat his brow. This did not bode well.

"Sir Gareth ap Morgan," the
king boomed. "You have been absent my court for some time and in the
presence of one of my ladies. I have heard report of your story but I would
have you tell me in person, that I might judge the veracity of your tale."

Still in his bent position, Gareth
said, "Of course, Your Majesty. I am confident you will judge it to be
true as I have always been a true and loyal knight to yourself and to
England."

"Do not coddle me, man!"
Gareth wished he had not spoken. Richard was obviously in one of his paranoid
rages. "You disappeared from my ranks at the same time we were attacked by
brigands--brigands who may very well have been supporters of that bastard
Tudor. Furthermore, you disappear with one of my ladies-in-waiting who
is
the fiancée of one of my closest allies, Earl Brackley.
You admit to having traveled alone with her, having given no thought to
acquiring an appropriate escort, even though you must have passed several
manors and not less than three convents! You drag her to Wales and then return
her here as you please when you are done with her with no regard for her station
or her good name! What do you have to say for yourself?"

Gareth thought that such a vocal
recitation of his report would surely do more harm to Elena’s name, but he said
only, "Your Majesty--"

"Stand up man. Do not cower
before me!"

Gareth flushed as he stood. He held
his posture painfully erect and his voice was tight when he answered. "I
know not if the brigands who attacked us on the road were supporters of Henry
Tudor. I do know that I dispatched two of them to their maker before I myself
was injured and lost consciousness. Surely someone amongst the group saw me
battling to protect you and yours."

"Aye, my liege," came Sir
Jasper's voice across the hall. "He fought well and nobly that day and
killed by my count four opponents, not two."

Richard's gaze darted past Gareth's
shoulder to the knight striding down the aisle. When Sir Jasper came to stand
by Gareth's right side, the king studied him intently for several seconds
before returning his glare to the younger knight. Gareth was torn between the
feeling of relief that Sir Jasper was defending his case, and the ever-present
guilt that was reminding him that he would no doubt be facing his present
champion on a battlefield soon. With a strength of will born of the realization
that his life depended on Richard believing his partial-truths, Gareth
suppressed the guilt and instead concentrated on making his story as believable
as possible.

Tilting his head towards Sir Jasper,
he continued, "I killed four men that day and was wounded in return. I was
knocked unconscious and, I can only presume, left for dead both by the brigands
and my fellow knights--an understandable mistake." Gareth thought that a
subtle shifting of the guilt might sway Richard in his favor. "When I came
to, I had no idea what the outcome of the skirmish had been: whether Your
Majesty had escaped or been seized along with the rest of your troops."
Gareth's attention was drawn to Richard's hands. His left hand toyed with the
royal signet ring on his right, twisting it, removing it, replacing it.
Suddenly, as if the king realized his fidgeting had been caught, he quickly
placed both hands on either arm of the throne, grasping them tightly until his
knuckles whitened.

Gareth jerked his attention from
their nervous movements and returned to his story. "It was not long after
that I discovered Lady Elena who I believe had been taken hostage by the
brigands to ensure their escape and then later released. She was as ignorant as
I concerning Your Majesty's survival," Gareth suddenly remembered that
Elena was supposed to have been injured and he quickly made up an injury that
would require at least a fortnight recovery. "Furthermore, she was
bleeding profusely from a cut on her scalp and could scarce remember her name
or what had happened."

Richard's gaze shifted again and he
addressed someone in the crowd. "And have you recovered sufficiently from
your injury, Lady Elena?"

Gareth turned and felt his heart
lurch. Seated on a bench in the front row of attendants to the court was Elena,
dressed in a gown of deepest blue, heavily embroidered with silver
thread.
An expensive silver pendant graced her smooth neck
and her hair was intricately braided and woven about her head. She looked as
foreign to him as if she had only just arrived from the southernmost tip of
Italy or the easternmost reaches of the Steppes. But when she turned her gaze
to meet his, she was the woman he knew most intimately, the woman he loved.
Still looking at him, she answered the king. "Aye, Your Majesty. I am well
recovered, thanks to Sir Gareth and his family."

"Ah, yes," Richard boomed,
"your family." Gareth turned back to face the king. "Tell me
now, why you chose to take the Lady Elena--the wounded Lady Elena--through
forests and over mountains to be attended by your family when there were manors
and convents at every turn."

This would be his most difficult
argument to convince, Gareth knew, and he tried to appear as guileless as
possible as he said, "In all truth, Your Majesty, I did not come across a
manor or convent. You see
,
I feared traveling the
roads for Lady Elena's sake. I was worried that if we ran into these same
brigands, she might not escape with just a wound to the head." Gareth
paused, desperately trying to keep the charade up. "I was also worried
that she would not survive the wound she had received. She faded in and out of
consciousness as we traveled and I thought I might waste days looking for a
manor while in that time I could easily get her to my father's keep where I
knew she would be well taken care of." He paused and took a shaky breath
as Richard stared at him. The king licked his lips and then chewed on his lower
lip while he tapped his finger with the signet ring against the arm of the
throne. The sharp clicking sound seemed even louder to Gareth's ears than the
low rumble of conversation by those who had lost interest in the business of
court.