A Dishonorable Knight (6 page)

"Put me down you oaf, or you
will be carrying me over the Cambrian Mountains yourself!" When he had
both feet on the ground he asked, "So where do we camp, oh fearless
rebel?"

"'Tis too dark to travel far.
Think you it will be safe if we just move into the forest?"

Gareth chewed his upper lip. "'Tis
the best we can do, at least until the moon rises."

The three men made their way into the
dense forest. By the time they reached a small clearing, the moon had risen,
illuminating the landscape. Gareth allowed his friends to administer
rudimentary medical care to his injured head and leg, gritting his teeth as
their clumsy fingers cleaned and bandaged his wounds. Afterwards, they set
about setting up a makeshift camp. They spread out their bedrolls and were
about eat a meager supper of dried beef when they heard a woman's piercing
scream. Grabbing up their weapons, they dashed back to the road. Bursting out
of the thick copse of trees they stared in amazement. They had expected to find
a woman beset by highway bandits or wolves. What they saw was a woman sitting
on her horse in the middle of the empty road. Well, not quite empty, Gareth
thought. Now that the moon was up, he could clearly see the ten or twelve dead
bodies that were the result of the earlier melee.

"My lady, what ails you?"
Gareth called as he approached her.

The woman turned, startled by the
approach of three unknown men. She was about to scream again when Gareth held
up his hand. "Fear not, my lady. I am Sir Gareth of King Richard's
contingent. You are quite safe from harm."

"Where is the king? I am part of
his retinue," she said in what Gareth thought was, despite its quaver, a
surprisingly haughty tone of voice.

"We suspect he is in Haddon
Hall, my lady."

"Then you must take me to
him."

Gareth looked at Cynan and Bryant
before turning back to the lady. "I am afraid that is not possible my
lady. But we will get you to safety come first light. For now, we are encamped
not far from here."

Approaching her horse, he offered her
a hand down. She ignored it and asked, "Why can you not escort me to the
king now?"

"Because it is too dark to
travel and the roads are dangerous this time of night," Gareth said.

The woman considered his reply before
allowing him to help her down. She was no doubt bone weary and frightened.

As Gareth lifted her down, he tried
to determine if he knew her, but her veil covered most of her face. She hadn't
indicated she knew him when he introduced himself, so he could only speculate
at which lady-in-waiting the three of them would play nursemaid to until they
were able to leave her at an abbey, or perhaps one of the border lord's keeps.

"How came you to be back here,
my lady? Did you not escape with the other women?"

The woman hesitated and Gareth
wondered if she, too, had been hit on the head. Finally she answered, “I was with
the others, but my horse bolted and I became separated from the group."
For some reason Gareth had the impression she was not telling the truth, but
shrugged. What espionage could one lady-in-waiting engage in?

When they reached the clearing where
the men had spread out their blankets, Elena said, "Where is the camp?
Where are the others?"

"Others, my lady?" Bryant
asked politely.

"Where are the tents? Where are
the other ladies?"

"My lady, they are all with King
Richard, as Sir Gareth told you."

Seemingly recovered from her earlier
shock, she sputtered in fury. “After all I have been through today, you expect
me to make do with no inn? No camp? Where, precisely, am I supposed to
sleep?"

Bryant hurried over to his bedroll
and picked it up. "You may gladly take my blanket, my lady."

"A blanket? Have you no cots, no
tents? This is ridiculous! I cannot be expected to sleep rolled up in a blanket
with three servants. I am Lady Elena de Vignon!" Gareth's head snapped up
and he grimaced at the pain the sudden movement caused his tender skull.
"I am part of the king's court. I cannot--"

"You are more than welcome to
climb back on your horse and continue down the road if you do not like our
accommodations," Gareth snapped. "But should you choose to stay, pray
remember that we are not servants and will not be treated as such."

In the bleaching moonlight, Elena
stared in mute outrage at him. Before she could respond, the three men silently
stretched out on the ground. Elena slowly wrapped the rough blanket around her
shoulders and carefully sat down.

"If you have any measure of
sense, you'll unsaddle your horse before you sleep."

"Gareth, she's a gentle lady;
they're not trained as a stable hand," Cynan argued.

"Then she shouldn't be
riding."

"You are the rudest man I have
ever had the displeasure to meet," said Elena as she sat up abruptly.

"Just ignore him my lady, I'll
see to your horse for you," volunteered Bryant.

With a sigh of relief, Elena laid
back down.

"You will at least have the
courtesy to thank Bryant for tending your horse, lest I be provoked to call you
the rudest woman I have ever had the displeasure to meet," said Gareth.

Though the moon’s light washed her
face of color, Gareth could read her indignant thoughts easily for her outrage
was laughably evident. She could not believe his gall, would tell the king of
his arrogance as soon as she reached him. And yet, she realized—for
Gareth saw the dawning realization lift her brows in surprise--she must first
reach Richard and he and his friends were her only way there. "My thanks,
Bryant, for both your blanket and your assistance," Elena said sweetly
before cursing Bryant's companion under her breath.

"Know you this lady that you are
so unchivalrous,
Sir Knight
?" Cynan asked quietly as he and Gareth
settled down to sleep.

"Aye. She's a conceited lady of
Richard's court who has no manners to those without a title."

"Do I know her?"

"I've no doubt you'll recognize
her come morn," Gareth said and then turned his back on Cynan and went to
sleep.

***

"You're right, Gareth, I do
remember this beauty," said Cynan as he peeked at the still-sleeping Elena
the next morning. "But I do not remember having any occasion to know
whether she's conceited or not."

"Trust me, she is." Gareth
flushed as he remembered her saying, "Do not think to woo me with proud
stories of your herd back home." He rubbed his sword arm with his left
hand. It was stiff and sore from its exertions of the day before and Gareth was
reminded of his first month of training with a sword. Then, as now, he had
scarce been able to lift his sword arm above his head, but that ache was
nothing to the throb in his head and the soreness of his leg.

The men washed down their breakfast
of dried meat with wine and rolled up their blankets, but still Elena slept. As
Gareth and Cynan saddled the horses, Bryant walked over to Elena. "My
lady?" he called softly. "My lady, 'tis morn and we must be
going." Elena did not respond.

Gareth finished saddling Isrid and
walked over to Bryant. Nudging Elena with the toe of his boot he said loudly,
"If you mean to sleep all day, kindly return Bryant's blanket so we may
continue our journey.”

Elena opened her eyes at the harsh
voice. Her evident confusion gave her face a softly innocent look before she
realized where she was and the haughty mask slipped back over her features.
When she remained on the ground, Gareth said sharply, "Are you coming or
not?"

With an exasperated sigh, Elena
stood, her obviously stiff and cramped muscles slowing the effort. Bryant
smiled shyly at her and bent to retrieve the blanket.

"Shall I help you onto your
horse, my lady?" Cynan asked, trying hard to keep from laughing at Gareth.
Never had he seen his friend treat a woman so. And never before had he met a
woman quite as imperious as Elena.

"Not before breakfast, I
think."

"You slept through
breakfast," Gareth said. "Now get on your horse."

"How dare you address me in such
a manner!"

Gareth ignored her as he climbed onto
Isrid. Cynan helped Elena mount and then handed her some dried meat. "I'm
afraid you will have to eat while we ride, my lady." Turning to Bryant he
said, "You go ahead and ride the first leg. I'm so glad to be going home,
I'll probably fly instead of walk."

Bryant laughed as he climbed up
behind Gareth. "You will be flying until your feet hurt. Then you'll be
hollering for me to give you your rightful seat."

"Where's that?"

"On the horse's ass, no
doubt," Gareth broke in and the three men laughed good-naturedly.

Elena stared at the men, appalled
that they would use such vulgar language in front of her. She shifted her gaze
to the hard brown thing in her hand. Was she supposed to eat this? She took a
tentative bite, or
rather,
she tried to take a bite,
but could not tear off so much as a morsel. Glancing up to make sure none of the
men were looking in her direction, she tried again, pulling on the meat with
both hands. She succeeded in tearing off a large chunk, which she proceeded to
chew, or rather tried to chew. What am I to do now?
she
thought. This was like trying to gnaw on boot leather. Elena was wondering if
she could discreetly spit out the meat when Bryant leaned over and held out a
wineskin.

"If you take a swallow and let
it sit in your mouth a bit, 'twill be easier to chew, my lady."

Elena took the skin and poured some
wine in her mouth. As she sat there with her large mouthful, trying to ignore
the wretched taste, she saw the amused look in the grey eyes of the man in
front of Bryant. Tears of anger and humiliation pricked behind her eyes and she
pointedly turned her head away from his mocking look. The insolent knave! Elena
finally managed to chew the now-soft beef and took another swallow of wine.

They rode through the forest over
what looked like no road or trail Elena had ever seen. She couldn't understand
why they weren't traveling on the main road. Surely that would have been the
fastest route to Haddon Hall.

"Is this not prettier to look at
than some old dusty road?" was Cynan's response when Elena questioned him.

Elena glanced around the heavily
wooded surroundings. The trees were lush and green, and pink flowering vines
crept up many of the trunks. The sun scarcely made it's way through the thick
leaves, and instead cast a soft green light over them as well as the forest
floor. Beneath the horses' feet, the ground was soft with moss and years of
accumulated mulch. Elena shrugged. "I would prefer to be back with King
Richard's party than enjoy the scenery. Why can we not travel the road?"

The three men exchanged glances.
Finally, Bryant spoke up. "My lady, we fear for your safety. The villains
who attacked us yesterday may still be around. We would not jeopardize your
safety."

Elena opened her mouth to tell them
that the Woodvilles were by now long gone. She snapped it shut again when she
realized she would be revealing more than she had claimed to know. As they
rode, she tried to decide what, exactly, she would tell the king. If she told
him of Elizabeth’s escape, he may thank her for the information. If he realized
that Elena was aware of
why
the
princess escaped, he may very well want to silence Elena, for were he to marry
his niece, the public outcry would be immense. She could offer her silence in
return for the groom of her choice. Elena smiled at the thought and did not
notice the tree branch just ahead.

“Ooof!” she said as the hanging
leaves whacked her in the face. She sputtered angrily and glared over her
shoulder at the offending tree. A sudden thought replaced her annoyance with
fear.

King Richard was not a man to endure
her threat with good grace. Oh yes, he would silence her, but not by paying her
price. Though she knew the king favored her, she also knew that the position of
lady-in-waiting carried no weight in matters of state. It was entirely possible
that the king would use other, more permanent means to silence her. The image
of Richard’s two young nephews—long since silenced--floated before her
eyes, causing her to smack into yet another branch.

“God’s nightgown!” she cursed.

“Need you help, my lady?” the shy
man—Bryant, she thought—asked.

“No!” Elena said sharply and then
more calmly, “No…thank you.”

Though the day was warm, Elena felt a
sudden chill run down her spine. Trying to think of anything else, she turned
her attention to what she would tell Margaret and Catherine.

“I am cursed!” she muttered as she
realized that spending even one night away from the other women, in the company
of three men, no less, would destroy her already fragile reputation. Frustrated
that she had no answer to either of her plaguing questions, Elena distracted
herself with complaining about the journey, delighting when the horrid man
glared his displeasure at her.