A Dishonorable Knight (8 page)

"Leave it to you to forget that
'tis not the chasing, 'tis the catching and I haven't caught a single skirt
since Enid and I were wed."

Elena was amazed at the men's
crudity. Truly, few men she knew were bound by oaths of fidelity to their
wives. In fact, the higher a man's rank, the more permissible it was for him to
have mistresses. Still, Elena had never had to listen to discussions of such
behavior.

Turning back to Elena, Cynan said,
"Bryant and I have a wager as to when Gareth will wed. Bryant says 'twill
be within two years, but I have high hopes that he'll hold out for at least
ten." When Elena turned to glance at Gareth, Cynan asked, "Would you
care to place a wager, Lady Elena?"

Elena sniffed. "I wager he never
marries."

"The bachelor life for you,
she's declaring, Gareth. Be he too handsome to stay with one women you
think?"

"No, I simply don't think any
woman would be able to put up with him for more than a fortnight."

Cynan and Bryant laughed and slapped
their friend on the back.

"Seems she's just met you and
she already knows you better than both of us," Cynan said.

"More like she's well versed in
being difficult, herself," Gareth said, stung as he stalked off into the
woods.

In spite of herself, Elena joined in
Cynan and Bryant's laughter.

***

As they traveled that afternoon,
Elena noticed that they were steadily climbing a gentle incline. The trees
soared overhead, meeting in a canopy of pine needles overhead, filtering the
light to a cool green. The layers of pine needles on the forest floor muffled
the horses’ hooves and absorbed any quiet comments the men made. Elena found
herself actively listening to the chatter of squirrels, and the song of birds
for the first time in her life. She felt an odd sense of peace that had nothing
to do with fine clothes or good food or hot, scented baths. The anger she had
forced herself to maintain over the past two days slowly dissipated and Elena
actually found herself enjoying her strange adventure.

They arrived at the small village
that was their destination just as the sun dipped below the horizon in a
brilliant splash of gold and orange. Although Elena was tired, the beauty of
the sunset and the warm glow it cast over the small village only added to her
sense of peace. She found herself looking forward to a real bed with an
appreciation she had never before felt.

To call the village small was being
generous. Elena glanced at the four stone houses that were gilded by the
setting sun, becoming for a fleeting moment, as grand looking as a stone
fortress or royal palace. Small children scampered in and out of the open
doors, startling wandering chickens. Two women returned from the stream,
carrying a heavy basket full of wet clothes between them.

Smoke drifted lazily up from two of
the houses' chimneys, carrying the smell of roasting meat to the weary
travelers. Elena's mouth watered at the scent and her stomach rumbled
appreciatively. Taking a deep breath, she felt the peaceful quiet of the
evening soak into her very bones.

"I never knew England could be
so beautiful," she murmured, not intending for anyone to hear her.

"That's because you're not in
England. You're in Wales," said Gareth who was walking, leading her horse.

"What? Wales? But I though you
were going to take me back to King Richard?" she cried.

"I never said that. I said I
would get you to safety. We did not come within a day's traveling distance of
one of the border lord's keeps, so I will have to leave you at the first abbey
we come across until word can be sent to Richard and he can send someone to
fetch you."

"That is simply not acceptable!
I can't just sit in some Welsh abbey braiding my hair while I wait for an
escort to Nottingham."

"Then perhaps you should assist
the sisters in their charitable works to make the time pass more quickly."

"Why can't you escort me to
Nottingham?"

"Because I go to see my father
in Gwynedd," Gareth said tightly.

"You mean you're deserting the
king?"

"I have no set duties with
Richard. My father I have not seen in two years."

They stopped in front of the farthest
of the small houses. As Cynan and Bryant dismounted, the door burst open and a
short burly man came out, quickly followed by what looked to Elena like at
least a dozen children. The burly man gave Bryant a quick hug before releasing
him to the children who climbed all over Bryant, laughing and shouting. While
his arms were burdened with three toddlers, a dark-haired young woman who
looked to be about sixteen took advantage of his position and bestowed a wet
kiss on the corner of his mouth.

"The would-be fiancée,"
Cynan explained in Elena's ear as he helped her down from her horse.

"Ah," said Elena, trying
unsuccessfully to smother a smile.

They were ushered inside by the man,
who introduced himself as Gruffydd, and his wife Catrin, a short plump woman
with crinkly laugh lines around her eyes and mouth
. Upon Catrin's instruction, Bryant's
love-struck cousin Marared took Elena into the other room of the small house
where she was finally able to take off her travel-stained gown and bathe.

"I swear I never thought I'd
live to appreciate warm water again," Elena said as she stepped into the
bucket of water the girl brought in and bent down to splash water onto her bare
arms and chest.

The girl grinned and held up a plain
gown. "You can wear this this evening if you like so we can wash your
chemise."

"It's over there on the
chest," Elena gestured. "I suppose ‘tis too much to hope you might
have some soft soap?" she asked with a grimace as she rubbed the rough lye
soap over her legs.

"No. That is all we have. I did
put some mint in your water though so you'd smell good. My mother says it’s
alright to smell like a fresh mint tart as long as you don't act like
one!" Laughing loudly, the girl did not notice the grimace on Elena's
face.

"Lovely," Elena muttered.
"I've always wanted to smell like a nauseating desert. By the way, how is
it that your family speaks English? Aren't you Welsh?"

"Oh yes. But we live so close to
the English and sell and buy things back and forth so often that one of us must
speak the other's language and I can't imagine them English ever trying to
learn Welsh." Belatedly realizing that Elena must be English, the young
girl lowered her head in embarrassment and turned to straighten Elena's
clothes.

The girl gasped when she picked up
Elena's chemise. "I've never felt such fine cloth." Turning to the
dark blue kirtle, she delicately traced the embroidered and beaded neckline.
"Is this one of your court dresses?"

"No it's one of my older travel
gowns." Despite her antagonism she had earlier felt over having to stay
with Welsh peasants, the girl's admiration and naivete relaxed Elena's enmity
and she surprised herself by saying, "You may try it on if you wish."

The girl looked at her in amazement
but in a flash removed her rough gown and slipped the blue linen over her head.
"I feel like a queen," she said, swishing the full skirt around the
small room. Surveying the cloud of dust that followed the whirling hem, she
said, "I'll wager we could brush the dust out of this till it looks like
new." She ducked out of the room before Elena could say a word. She
quickly returned with a horsehair brush and another bucket of water.

"I brought some fresh water if
you'd like me to help you wash your hair."

If bathing had felt good, washing her
hair in the cool mint-scented water was heavenly, Elena thought a few minutes
later. Marared scrubbed her scalp and worked the tangles out of Elena's long
hair.

"Such an unusual color your hair
is," the girl said as she combed it out. "I usually hate combing my
sisters' hair, but yours is so pretty to look at, I don't mind."

Elena looked over her shoulder in
surprise. Another woman had never complimented her. Men had written poems about
the color of her hair, but the women at court had only criticized it,
commenting on its brassiness or the way it made her skin look sallow. Elena
knew they were only being spiteful, but it still caused her to be surprised at
Marared's honest compliment.

Once she was clean from head to toe,
Elena dried herself with a small cloth as her self-appointed maid vigorously
brushed the dusty gown.

"How's that?"

"It will do." Elena
hesitated,
then
said, "Thank you." Marared
beamed.

When Marared was finished, she took
Elena's chemise to wash while Elena slipped on the borrowed gown. It was
coarser than
her own
clothes, but loose fitting and
considerably lighter and cooler. Plaiting her hair in a long braid over one
shoulder, she dumped the rocks and dirt out of her boots and put them back on.
She stepped into the larger room, surprised to find it empty. Marared was
scrubbing her chemise in a pail on the large rough-hewn table.

"They're all outside,"
explained Marared. "It gets too hot in here with eleven people eating
dinner. Fifteen would make it unbearable. There," she said as she rang the
water out of the chemise. "I'll just hang it outside and 'twill be dry
before you leave tomorrow."

Elena followed the girl outside and
saw everyone gathered around a long table under a huge tree. There were two
spots open on the benches that flanked the table. Marared scurried into the one
next to Bryant, leaving Elena to sit next to Gareth.

As she sat, Gareth glanced at her and
away and then turned back to her. She ignored him until he continued to stare.
"Are you staring because I sprouted wings and a halo?" she asked
sarcastically.

Gareth laughed and the sound blended
with the noisy chatter and giggling of the children surrounding them. "No.
I would die of shock if you did that. Now hooves and a forked tail would not
surprise me..." Elena pointedly turned her attention to the wooden plate
in front of her.

"We've the first berries of the
season as a special treat this eve," said Catrin when they had devoured
the simple meal of mutton, carrots, leeks, and barley.

"I'll fetch them, Mama,"
said Marared. "Elena can help me prepare them."

Elena stared at the girl in disbelief.

"Go on," said Gareth.
"It won't kill you, I promise." Elena turned her stare to Gareth. She
was about to utter a brusque retort when she was suddenly distracted by the
color of his eyes. In the fading twilight, they were a smoky gray, full of
warmth and a curious sparkle. His gaze roved over her face and to Elena, it
felt like a caress, lightly touching her eyebrows, skimming along her
cheekbones, and settling on her lips, light as a feather’s kiss. Her heart
pounded within her breast. Her cheeks warmed and
an
unfamiliar
warmth spread through the rest of her body as well. Without
quite knowing why, she rose and without so much as a sarcastic comment,
followed Marared into the cottage.

"If you'll take this bowl out,
I'll clean up our mess," Marared said, indicating the pile of stems and
inedible berries on the table when they were done.

Next they'll be having me empty their
chamberpots, Elena thought. Except, of course, that they don't have any! As she
approached the table outside, she noticed that the younger children had
dispersed, but Gareth, Cynan, and Bryant were still talking with the village
adults. They had lit several torches and Elena paused to study Gareth's face by
the soft glow. She knew that she was invisible to them as she stood outside of
the ring of light and she could observe her brusque escort unnoticed.

He was utterly handsome, she realized
with a start. She had not noticed the squareness of his jaw before or the
straightness of his nose, the full curve of his lips. Her gaze lingered on that
full curve and she suddenly wondered what it would be like to kiss those lips.
He raked his dark hair off his forehead with a hand that was strong, but not
coarse. Elena fancied that such a hand could grasp her tightly to him even as
it gently caressed her hair and neck.

It was several moments before Elena
realized that the people around the table were speaking in a strange mixture of
English and Welsh. It had been years since she'd spoken Welsh, taught as she
was by her Welsh grandmother. In Richard’s court, she’d hidden her Welsh
background
as it was even less desirable than her family’s
Lancastrian ties. The garbled words slowly began to unfurl in her mind. As she
concentrated, she was able to decipher many of the words.

"'Twill be before Michaelmas, I
can assure you. He'll land in South Wales, but will travel north to gather
soldiers. I would have us ready to greet him when he lands.
Parod ac awyddus
."
Elena did not recognize the speaker's voice--it must be Gruffydd, she thought.

"
Cymreig ar y gorsedd
,"
said Bryant. A
Cymreig
is a Welsh person, Elena thought.
Something about a Welshman on the throne?