Rise of the Defender (100 page)

     Dustin shot out of the chair. “How dare you
speak of my husband like that,” she said, shaking an angry finger at him. “No
one is to blame but Deborah for her own foolishness.”

     Gowen stood up and Deborah's arm went
slapping to the bed in spite of Leeton's attempts to grab it.

     “Everything that has happened this day has
been his fault.” he snapped at her. “Had he not been so haughty, we would not
have felt it necessary to be married immediately. He broke the sanctuary of the
church to bring us back and then threw me in the dungeon. Deborah had no way of
knowing my fate and, assuming the worst, has tried to take her own life. How
can you be so blind?”

     A huge hand reached out and grabbed Gowen
around the neck, fairly lifting him off his feet as he was shoved away from the
bed, away from the others. Dustin gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.

     Christopher's eyes glittered like deadly
sapphires against Gowen's pale, frightened blue.

      “You may say what you will about me,
sirrah, for your words do not offend me nor provoke this action,” he rumbled.
“But you will never raise your voice to my wife. Ever.”

     “It is all right, Chris,” Dustin went over
to them, her eyes wide and her anger banked. “He did not mean it; he is upset.
Please do not be harsh.”

     Christopher did not look at her. “Do you
understand me?” he said to Gowen. “If we are to live under the same roof, then
you will come to understand a great many things.”

     Gowen was nearly blue. “I….I did not mean
to shout at her,” he rasped. “'Twas not my intention to offend, sire, but
Dustin and I have known each other a great many years and I treat her as I have
always treated her.”

     “With such disrespect?” Christopher shot
back, his eyebrows raised.

     “Nay, sire,” Gowen was struggling for
breath. “As a sister. Who does not yell at their sister?”

     Christopher stared back at him, reading
truth in his eyes. Moreover, he was right; were Deborah conscious at this
moment, he'd yell his head off at her. After a moment he dropped his hand and
stepped back, still eyeing Gowen unsteadily. Before Dustin could touch him, he
took long, quick steps back over to his sister.

     Dustin watched her husband sadly for a
moment before turning her attention to her friend and new brother-in-law. Her
panic was slowly subsiding and she was resigning herself to the fact that her
husband and his knights were doing everything possible to help Deborah. She
doubted Burwell or God himself could do much more. As hard as it was, she would
have to place her faith in them, for there was nothing she could do and her
sense of helplessness was overwhelming. Quietly, she moved over and took
Gowen's arm.

     “'Twill be all right,” she said softly.
“They will help her.”

     Gowen was gray with horror and
apprehension, too overcome to speak as he watched the men work on his wife.
Dustin watched, too, forgetting about her endless fatigue and swelling ankles.
The only thing that mattered at the moment was preventing Deborah's life from
slipping away.

     They struggled with Deborah into the night.
The only reason she hadn't died immediately was because she had slit her wrists
cross-wise and not vertically. Christopher was able to stitch the wounds up
tightly, lessening the bleeding and promoting coagulation. Dustin sat, wrapped
in a coverlet, watching as they strapped her arms up to the bed-posts to keep
them elevated and to further prevent her from doing any more damage to herself.
From that point on, it was a waiting game. If she had lost too much blood, she
would die. But there was all the possibility in the world that she would
survive, yet no one seemed particularly optimistic and Dustin was greatly
disturbed.

     It was close to dawn and Dustin had
eventually fallen into an exhausted sleep in Deborah's overstuffed chair,
wrapped like a cocoon in the feathered blanket. The knights had retreated, save
David and Leeton, as Christopher stood vigilant watch at the foot of Deborah's
bed, his eyes never leaving her pasty face. He was damn angry at her for
attempting to take her own life and the guilt he had been struggling with most
of the night hung heavy about his shoulders. He could feel the weight. Perhaps
Dustin had been right; perhaps he had been arrogant and cold. For a man of his
ego, it was a bitter pill to swallow.

     The sun was barely peaking over the horizon
when he turned from his post and looked at Gowen, still awake but an ugly shade
of gray as he stared at his wife.

     “Go and sleep,” he said quietly. “I shall
stay with her.”

     Gowen shook his head. “This is my place,
sire. I shall not leave her.”

     Christopher did not argue, for he knew his
reaction would have been the same. He turned to his brother.

     “See about the morning meal, if you would,”
he said. “I am famished.”

     David nodded, glancing at Dustin as he
passed her on his way to the door. Her face was half-shoved into the blanket
and he could hear her snoring softly.

     “She snores?” he looked at his brother, his
face lit up with a tired smile. “You never told me that.”

     Christopher glanced at his wife. “Leave her
alone. Go get my food.”

     David snickered as he quit the room.

     Christopher continued to stare at Dustin
long after his brother was gone. She was curled up like Caesar, sleeping so
peacefully that he was tempted just to leave her be. As tired as she was and in
her condition, she should be in the comfort of her own bed, but he knew the
moment he touched her that she would awaken. He left his post and wandered over
to her, daring to touch the blond head tenderly before moving to the fire and
stoking the embers.

     “I never thought I'd see Dustin married,”
Gowen said dully.

     Christopher looked up from the hearth and
saw his brother-in-law looking at him.

     “She was more boy than most boys, you
know,” Gowen went on. “She could fight, run, swim… anything. All of the boys in
the village loved to be around her and she thought it was because they accepted
her as one of their own when, in fact, it was because she was so beautiful that
they simply wanted to gaze upon her.”

     “Yet no one was truthful with her,”
Christopher said. “Even when she became of age?”

     Gowen smiled weakly. “And risk getting our
nose broken? I think not. She could be your very best friend in the entire
world, yet at the same time, your biggest fear.”

     “Fear? Why?” Christopher stood up.

     “Because she is nearly perfect,” Gowen
replied. “Isn't that reason enough for fear? Dustin Barringdon was something
above the rest of us mortals, my lord, somewhere in that mystic realm of fairy
princesses and legends. She was not meant for any of us mere peasants to have.”

     Christopher gazed down at his wife's head.
“Yet, I have her.”

     “'Tis right you should have her,” Gowen
insisted. “You are Richard's warlord and deserving of such a woman. But, in
faith, when I heard she had married, I laughed with pity for the fool who had
been brave enough to marry her. Surely he had no idea what she-devil he had
been saddled with.”

     Christopher's cool demeanor cracked in the
slightest and he grinned faintly. “And you thought not to warn me?”

     Gowen smirked smugly. “Some lessons in this
life must be learned the hard way,” he said. “When I heard rumor that you were
a favorite of Richard, I assumed your life had been an easy one and found
fiendish delight with the thought of unmanageable Dustin as your wife. But I
see that I was wrong, for she obviously cares for you a great deal. You are all
she could speak of while you were away.”

     Christopher stood behind the chair, looking
down on Dustin as she slept. “We missed each other,” he said simply.

     “I know,” Gowen said softly, his eyes
trailing to Deborah once again. His smile faded. “She looks like a prisoner
tied to the bed like that.”

     Christopher looked to his sister. “'Tis
necessary that we keep the blood away from the wounds to allow them to scab
over.”

     “I realize that, but it looks so barbaric.”
Gowen rose from his seat and went over to Deborah, his eyes trailing the length
of her long, slim body. “I worry for the child.”

     “Dustin tells me the village has midwife; I
will send for her this day,” Christopher told him.

      Gowen raised an eyebrow. “That woman? She
is more witch than midwife. She has fairly convinced Dustin that she bears the
next emperor.”

     “Is that so?” Christopher glanced at his
wife, not as confident about her health and the baby as he was just a moment
prior. “A witch, you say?”

     “A charlatan,” Gowen said firmly. “I cannot
stand her near Deborah, but the old crone is very convincing and tells the
women what they want to hear.”

     Christopher was growing increasingly
concerned. “Then I will refuse the woman admittance to my keep,” he said.
“There are no other midwives in the village?”

     “A few with lesser reputations,” Gowen
replied. “None that I would trust with Deborah's life or the life of our child,
yet the choice is nil.”

     “Like hell,” Christopher grumbled. “There
was a woman who took care of my wife when she had her accident last year, an
excellent midwife. I will send one of my knights to Windsor to retrieve her. I
will trust the life of my wife and child to no sorceress.”

     “A wise decision, baron,” Gowen said,
relieved. “How fortunate I am that my brother-in-law can command even mighty
Windsor to his bidding.”

     Christopher lifted an eyebrow in agreement,
angry Dustin could be so naive as to believe the tales of a witch. He was
greatly concerned for the child now, knowing the midwife to be an imposter, but
resisted the urge to awaken and scold his wife. With Deborah's injuries, it
would not be wise to upset her further. But he would bide his time until the
moment was right.

     Christopher and Gowen spent a great deal of
time alone together, watching their respective sleeping wives, speaking of
things small and large. They grew to know each other bit by bit, and even after
David joined them with the morning meal, continued their deeply philosophical
conversation about the morality of Hadrian's invasion. David, way out of his
league, dozed off in a chair.

     Christopher discovered rapidly that his new
brother-in-law was indeed a sharp man. Well-read and opinionated, Christopher
found himself greatly enjoying the intellectual conversation. Of his knights,
Edward and mayhap Leeton were the only two he could hold a truly intelligent
conversation with, for the rest, including his brother, were not as bright.
David was an outstanding soldier and lived for the battlefield, but he was
lacking in deep intelligence. Christopher thought at one point, with humor,
that he could combine David and Gowen into one man, he would have the greatest
warrior in the world.

     Toward noon, Dustin awoke and began moving,
groaning as she did so. Christopher looked at her  with concern.

     “What is wrong?” he demanded.

     “Ohhh,” she graned again, twisting her body
gingerly. “My entire body is sore. I can hardly move.”

     Grinning with relief, Christopher held out
his hand. “Let me help you, then.”

     He pulled her out of the chair, steadying
her as she gazed over at Deborah. “Has she awoken?” she asked.

     “Nay,” Christopher replied. “Are you
hungry?”

     “A little,” she said. “But I would rather
have a bath.”

     “Go take one, then,” he said gently. “I
shall join you in a few minutes.”

     Dustin nodded wearily, straightening her
surcoat and moving for the door. She passed by David, unconscious on a chair
and snoring like thunder. With an irritated purse of the lips, she smacked him
on the side of the head.

     David jumped, disoriented, until he saw his
sister-in-law's scowling face. “What was that for?” he demanded.

     “For waking me up, you lout,” she snapped.
“Good lord, you snore louder than anyone I have ever had the misfortune to
hear.”

     “Ha!” David sneered. “Look who is accusing
me of snoring? You would wake the dead with your snoring.”

     Outraged, Dustin slugged him in the arm
hard enough to make him wince. “I do not snore,” she cried. “What a terrible
thing to say.”

     David rubbed his arm, looking to his
brother for support. “Am I wrong? Am
I
wrong?”

     Christopher turned away, a smirk on his
face. “'Twas a most unsavory thing to say, David, right or wrong.”

     Dustin punched him again for good measure
and quit the room.

     David rubbed his arm where Dustin had
smacked him, eyeing his brother. “As always, your support is appreciated,
brother,” he said sarcastically.

     Christopher snorted. “She only slugged you.
If I were to have agreed with you, 'tis more than likely she would do a great
deal more to me.”