A Dishonorable Knight (47 page)

Elena thought of the court she had
attended just a few nights past. She had held her breath while Richard had
questioned Gareth for she knew that Richard would have never wasted court time
questioning a knight unless he doubted that knight's loyalty. That he had not
charged Gareth with any crime did not relieve her of that worry. Should Gareth
have any enemies in this court, or should anyone discover that they had been to
Aberstwyth, his life would be forfeit quicker than hers would.

The small group of women rode around
the perimeter walls to the far corner of the bailey where men were training
with swords, shields, and pikes. While the other ladies chatted and laughed
with the countess, pointing out the most handsome knight or the most adept with
the sword, Elena sat still on her horse, mesmerized by the sight of Gareth, who
leaned against a cart on the far side of the training soldiers. Bareheaded,
shirt sleeves
pushed past his elbows, arms crossed lazily
over his chest, he laughed at something an older knight was telling him. One of
the practicing knights called out to him and Gareth nodded and bent to pick up
his helmet and shield. Elena studied every detail of his appearance, memorizing
it for future daydreams.

"Elena!" Catherine called
shrilly. "Isn't that the handsome knight you spent a month with
alone?"

Elena dragged her gaze from Gareth
and turned to Catherine who, with her question, had gained the attention of the
countess and the other three ladies. Though Catherine's face appeared blandly
innocent, Elena saw straight through her ploy. "Indeed, that is Sir Gareth
who rescued me from the brigands who attacked us and escorted me into the
safekeeping and protection of his noble father."

"But how humiliating,"
Catherine persisted, "to have no privacy while traveling through the dark
woods of Wales, spending every night with this man you hardly know."

Elena refused to let Catherine get
the best of her. "Surely you are exaggerating, Catherine. You will have
the good countess here fearing for her very life when near one of His Majesty's
knights. Sir Gareth was a paragon of chivalry and virtue as he escorted me to
safety. I not once encountered an unsavory moment in his company and I would
trust my life and the life of my mother into Sir Gareth's hands without
hesitation." Ha! Elena thought,
you'll
have to be
in this court a few more years before you can think to make me look bad,
Catherine.

"What adventure!" the
Countess of Salisbury said, obviously intrigued by Elena's experience. Deciding
to show Catherine exactly what she was up against, Elena turned on her
favorite-lady-in-waiting charm and set out winning over the visiting
noblewoman.

"Indeed it was. And as for the
Welsh forests being dark and ugly places, I must tell you I have never seen
such lush beauty. They are quite peaceful and I would vouch that they are less
plagued by villains and robbers than are our own English woods. I am sure your
ladyship would find them most pleasing."

"I would love to visit
them," the Countess avowed. “But tell me, weren't you afraid? From what
Lady Catherine has told me, I had feared for your virtue and soundness of mind
after such an excursion."

Elena smiled smugly at the furious
Catherine. "I've no doubt you did. But as usual, Lady Catherine worries
herself far too much about my virtue. Why, I would not have felt more
comfortable in the presence of a priest and a host of nuns. Not once did Sir
Gareth initiate an unwanted advance. It would do Lady Catherine a world of good
to go through such an adventure as I had so that she might realize not everyone
is as wicked as she seems to fear they are."

The countess nodded and urged her
horse closer to Elena's. "But tell me, what of sleeping in the forest at
night? Weren't you frightened of goblins and evil spirits?"

Elena described the Welsh landscape
to the intrigued countess, being careful not to vary from the story she and
Gareth had so far told. She answered question after question, delighting in
watching Catherine fume.

"My lady, perhaps you would like
to see the flower gardens now?" Catherine finally interrupted.

"What's that?" the countess
asked. "Oh yes, of course. I suppose we are making these poor lads nervous
with our continued observance, aren't we?" The countess laughed and the
other ladies followed suit, tittering behind their hands. Elena smiled, but her
eyes were drawn to the practice field where Gareth was battling another man in
armor with mock swords. Though his opponent stood a head taller than him,
Gareth bested the man's strength and knocked him to the ground, holding the
mock sword to his throat a second before leaning down to help his opponent up.
When both men were standing, they took off their helmets, laughing and
comparing battle techniques. Gareth slapped the man companionably on the
shoulder before turning to leave the battlefield. Elena's breath caught as he
glanced up and saw her watching. The grin left his face and he stared at her,
his eyes burning hotly as his gaze scanned her face, her figure. The other
ladies were leaving and Elena knew she must follow but she could not escape his
gaze.

Finally Margaret turned her horse and
rode back to Elena, "Elena! Are you coming? We're off to view the flower
gardens."

"Yes, I'm coming,"
Elena
murmured. She urged her horse to slowly follow the
others, but kept her gaze locked onto Gareth. Twisting in the saddle, she
watched as Gareth lifted his hand to his lips. She returned the action, wishing
with all her heart she could stop and speak to him.
But with
what excuse?
She could not risk stopping with Catherine and who knew how
many others watching, hoping for a reason to cast suspicion on their
relationship. Turning back around, she urged her horse to a faster pace and
caught up with the group of women as Catherine was describing how instrumental
she was in helping Richard have the most beautiful castle gardens. Elena rolled
her eyes and allowed her mind to wander back to Gareth.

"My liege," said the burly
man who knelt before Richard in the main hall. The man was covered with dirt
from the road, his hair sweaty, his armor a strange combination of leather and
metal, with French and German styling. The three men who knelt behind them with
heads bowed were garbed in equally motley armor. "My liege," the
leader said once again, finally gaining the king's attention.

"What is it?" he asked
shortly.

"My liege, we report to you upon
orders of the Earl of Brackley."

Richard surveyed the men briefly,
visibly disbelieving their claim of service. "We have no need of
mercenaries. We have twelve thousand loyal troops to attend me should
We
need them. Be on your way."

"My liege?"

Richard turned back to the man.
"What is it? Do you not understand God's English? I've no need of
mercenaries."

"We are not mercenaries, my
liege. We have spent these last weeks in Wales."

Richard’s
brows
raised in understanding. “Did you learn aught?”

“We learned the rebels held a meeting
in Aberstwyth. A host of Welsh malcontents met to plan their attack on your
grace. Rumor has it that Lord Stanley attended.”

Richard choked on his bile. He had
long suspected Stanley would betray him, had demanded his son as hostage to
prevent such an action.

“Who else attended?”

“Welsh rebels–“

”Names, you fool. I know they were
Welsh!”

The man wiped a dirty hand across his
sweaty brow, leaving a muddy streak. “We didn’t–we could not find the
meeting’s location. We thought we came across one man, but he–that is,
the Welsh helped him to escape.”

“Did you see Lord Stanley there?”

“We spoke to a barmaid who swore she
had waited upon the man, your grace.”

“But you did not see him, did not
speak to him.”

The man shifted his weight. The floor
was no doubt hard on his knee. “No, your grace.”

Richard sighed heavily and leaned his
head on the high back of his chair.

"See Sir Jasper. He will assign
you duties." The men stood and bowed before backing away. "And do not
dare to present yourself to me filthy from travel again.”

The four men hurried out of the hall
in search of Sir Jasper.

A thousand candles lit the great hall
of Nottingham castle as servants stumbled over each other in their haste to
bring heavy trays of food to the thick wood tables. The wine flowed ceaselessly
and the rich aroma of fresh-baked bread and thick stews competed with the smoke
from the great fireplace and the sweat of men who had ridden hard hours to
break bread with their sovereign. As Gareth surveyed the bustling scene, he
felt a strange sense of déjà vu. This could have easily been the last great
feast at Middleham castle. The night he had first laid eyes on Elena. The rowdy
men around him laughed as they recalled the foibles of the squires they were
training. A comely serving girl leaned over his shoulder, setting a platter of
roasted venison in the middle of the table. She pressed her breasts against his
shoulder and lifted her eyebrows in invitation at him when he looked up. He
smiled politely and turned back to his mug of ale, hoping the girl would not be
flirting with him all night. Two of the king's dogs broke into a fight over a
bone tossed on the ground and a page ran forward to separate them. At the head
table, the king was in conversation with the Earl of Salisbury and several
other nobles.

It is as if nothing has changed, he
thought. Nothing except that I am in love with a woman who will no doubt be wed
to another before the leaves fall from the trees. I am in love with her, he
thought, and I will have to watch her pledge her life to another, will have to
watch her exit the hall on his arm for her wedding night, knowing her more
intimately than her husband ever could. Gareth set his mug on the table and
rested his head in his hands. Somehow that was a worse feeling than any of the
guilt he had felt over his appointed mission.

"Be you ill Gareth?" asked
Henry, the taller man he had bested on the practice field earlier. Placid of
countenance and disposition, his broad face was full of concern as Gareth
lifted his head from his hands.

"No," Gareth said, forcing
a smile, "too much ale, that's all."

Henry's face cleared and he grinned
broadly. "Aye, that's an illness I'm well familiar with!" The man
returned his attention to the wealth of food in front of him and Gareth
relapsed into his thoughts of Elena. Instead of the brutal torture of thinking
of her upcoming wedding night, he recalled every detail of her face when he had
seen her on horseback earlier today. She had been wearing the dress he had
purchased for her, though the accessories she had added had changed it into the
gown of a lady of rank. A jeweled belt worked in gold adorned the high waist
and the collar had been closed with an intricately wrought gold brooch. Her
hair had been encased in gold wire baskets on either side of her head and a
fine veil had covered the glory of its chestnut color. As he had watched her,
he was sure he could have never touched that satiny skin. This was not the
woman who had lain so passionately in his arms. She was an aloof stranger, she
must be. But the look in her eyes and the way she had watched him had reassured
him. Reassured him that he was an ass for having kept silent so long about his
feelings for her.

He raked his fingers through his
tangled hair. It could not now be undone. They must each answer their own
destinies. Looking up for something to distract him, his eyes locked onto the
sight of Elena entering the hall. As on that night when he had first seen her,
she was alone, standing at the top of the three
steps which
led into the main hall. She was surveying the colorful scene before her and she
was even wearing the same green velvet gown that she had that night. Gareth
remembered thinking that night that any lady wealthy enough to wear such a gown
would never see anything in a man such as himself. She made her way slowly to
the ladies’ table and sat at the end farthest from the head table. As he
watched, she smiled at the lady sitting next to her and did not look up again
as she ate. Gareth frowned, worried. This was so unlike her, he thought. She
should be sitting at the head of that table as Richard's favorite.

Scarcely touching the food on his own
plate, Gareth watched as she picked at her food and then stood to leave. He
rose also and moved to intercept her behind the huge central fireplace. There
they would be out of sight of Richard and the other important guests. Gareth
waited close to the fire, which was necessary even in the heat of summer to
warm the cold stone of the castle. As Elena walked past him, he said as
casually as possible, "Good evening, Lady Elena."

Startled, she turned towards him and
when she saw who had spoken to her, her eyes widened. "Gareth!" she
whispered. Glancing furtively around, she quickly joined him behind the
fireplace. She extended her hands to him and he took them in his own, rubbing
them briskly to bring warmth to them. For moments they stood, staring at each
other, unable to speak.