Rise of the Defender (110 page)

     Max tore his gaze away from the body and
motioned to Guy de la Rosa. “Come on,” he muttered. “Let's get to it.”

     Sean and Anthony were left gazing down at
the grisly scene. “What in the world happened?” Walter asked. “I mean, look at
the way the horse has fallen. Impaled through the heart, he is. Is it possible
it fell on Chris and he drowned in the mud?”

     Anthony shrugged. “Mayhap we shall know
after we free the body. Meanwhile, we have a whole keep to clean up.” He
glanced over at the men-at-arms who were beginning a funeral pyre and he
stomped off in their direction. “Hey! You men over there! Do not burn bodies so
close to the keep unless you want to render everyone in the castle ill!”

     He was off shouting, leaving Sean standing
a depressing watch over the remains of his liege. The thought that The Defender
was gone was so overwhelmingly bleak that the man hesitated to believe another
day would dawn over England.

He glanced at the sky above, bleak and gray.
That was the world to him at the moment without his liege, bleak and gray and
colorless. He could not stand to look at the body anymore; with a sting to his
eyes, he went to help the others dig graves.

CHAPTER 
FORTY

     Word of the Defender's passing spread
through England like wildfire. Ralph and John, having been at Nottingham when
Sir Dennis had brought them the news, partied for three days. Lady Gabrielle,
on John's arm, wept through the night. Surely nothing could save England now.

Richard disembarked at
the Tower to be met by the justices, welcoming him home to English soil with
one breath and notifying him of the current situation with the next. John held
fourteen castles and Christopher de Lohr was dead, killed in battle at
Gowergrove Castle. Deeply distressed and seriously exhausted, Richard had shed
public tears at his brave friend's passing. Sir Philip de Lohr, disembarking
with Richard, crossed himself and went immediately to Winchester Abbey where he
prayed for two straight days.

     David, now betrothed to Emilie Hampton and
serving Lyle Hampton, heard from the earl of his brother's passing. His pain
was so great that Lyle ordered David locked in his room with a constant guard
on his person, terrified his future son-in-law would take his own life. He knew
of Christopher and David's falling-out, and he furthermore feared David would
never be the same.

     A violent argument between two brothers
would now never be resolved, and David was inconsolable. Even Emilie could not
bring him out of his depression. But David was made of strong blood, and after
his initial shock and pain dulled, he kissed Emilie good-bye and set out for
London to see Richard. He knew the king would want to see him, but his stay in
London would be short. After that, he vowed to continue to Lioncross and beg
Dustin’s forgiveness, hoping she would allow him to comfort her. And mayhap,
she could comfort him as well. He could not deal with the fact that Christopher
had gone to his grave hating him.

     Marcus Burton even heard of Christopher’s
death and Richard's return by way of a traveling Scot lord. Holed up at
Somerhill, Marcus had had virtually no contact with the outside world, shunning
missives and denying entrance to any outsiders. The less he knew of London and
the ways of the world, the easier it was to forget about Dustin. He had been
fairly happy for the past year at his new keep, ruling the baronetcy fairly and
justly and he was greatly loved by his vassals. He had even selected a woman he
thought would make an excellent mother for his sons, but the moment he heard of
Christopher’s death, everything was dashed.

     The pain and loss he felt was overwhelming
and he spent two days in his solar, drinking away his guilt and pain. But when
the liquor dried up, so did he, and he immediately decided to set forth to
Lioncross. With Christopher gone, he planned to do what he had always wanted to
do. He would claim Dustin, and woe to any man who would try to stop him.

     Richard, John and Ralph… he cared not for
their problems anymore. With each passing moment, the only thing of importance
to him was Lady Dustin de Lohr. Somehow he knew Christopher would approve of
him taking care of his wife and, by God, he would not only take care of her, he
would worship the ground she walked on. How could Christopher want for anything
more than that?

     The only person who had not immediately
heard of Christopher's death was his wife. Dustin went about her business every
day, taking care of her growing daughter and running Lioncross with Gowen. In the
morning she would see to the day's needs, and in the afternoon, she would till
the frozen ground in the garden in preparation for the spring plant. She was
happy as she tried to keep busy, easing the pain of separation from her
husband, but she consoled herself with the knowledge that he would return home
to her. She had grown confident in his ability to stay alive and counted the
days until his return. She could hardly wait to hold him.

     Late one afternoon in February, the
returning army was sighted. Dustin was in her bedchamber with the maids when
she heard the cry go up from the wall, and all three of the women raced to the
window to catch sight of the approaching troops. They could see the blue and
gold of Christopher’s banners in the distance.

     Glee surged through Dustin. Chasing the
maids out, she donned her very best surcoat, one of burnished gold that
Christopher loved so much, and carefully brushed her long hair. She wanted to
look good for him and make him glad that he had returned to her. In her
excitement, she called into the nursery and had Griselda dress Christin in a
clean frock so the baby could greet her father properly.

     All of Lioncross was in an uproar. Edward
was in the foyer, moving to the front doors when Dustin hung over the balcony overhead
and yelled at him not to detain her husband with a bunch of silly war tales.
There would be time for that later. He grinned and waved her off, joining
Jeffrey in the bailey. He noticed that Jeffrey’s' face was grave.

     “What's wrong?” Edward demanded, still
smiling from Dustin's comments. “How can you possibly have a sour face on this
day of days?”

     “I count only five knights,” Jeffrey said.
“And I do not see the baron's horse.”

     Edward shrugged. “Mayhap he remained in
London. Richard is, after all, returned and I am sure there is much to
discuss.”

     Jeffrey shrugged in agreement, but his
sense of uneasiness did not dissipate. In fact, as the huge gates yawned open
and the knights spilled in through the opening, his apprehension increased. He
did not know why; mayhap it was simply an overactive feeling on his part.

     Edward wasn't concerned in the least as the
knights rode in. He did, however, notice Leeton was missing and that concerned
him a bit, but not overly. The knights rode directly to him, reining their
weary mounts to a halt in the dusk.

     “Max and Anthony,” Edward greeted
pleasantly. “Good Lord, don’t tell me Chris was detained in London with
Richard. My lady is going to have fits.”

     Anthony dismounted, followed slowly by the
others. By their sheer movements, Edward was alerted and his heart leapt into
his throat. Without a word, they had conveyed much.  Edward’s smile vanished.

     Anthony removed his helm. When his brown
eyes met Edward's, there was nothing more to say. His expression said everything.
Edward's face went as white as plaster and he felt bile rise in his throat.

     “Oh….no, Anthony,” he breathed. “Please…
Chris is not coming home, is he?”

     Anthony dug into his tunic and with the
most reverent of gestures, held Christopher’s wedding ring out to Edward. The
man simply stared at it, unable to make a conscious decision to move and do
anything with it. It was almost as if he were not truly grasping what he was
seeing.

     Jeffrey finally took the ring. “How did it
happen?” he asked quietly.

     Anthony did not look anything like the man
who had left Lioncross a mere month earlier. He looked older, more haggard.

     “The last day of the battle for
Gowergrove,” he said quietly. “We are not sure how it happened, but we found
him in two feet of mud buried beneath his horse. You understand there wasn't
much left to bury, Edward. We buried him on a rise overlooking Gowergrove. We
did not want to bring him back here for….her….to see.”

     Edward blinked and two fat tears rolled
down his cheeks, dashed away by his shaking hand. “You did right, of course,”
he said softly. “And Leeton? He perished also?”

     “Aye,” Anthony nodded wearily. “We never
did find his body. With the rain and mud, 'twas nearly impossible. Then when
the mud dried up before we could completely clear the field of battle, there
was no chance to find him.”

     Edward wiped his hand across his face. “God
be merciful,” he breathed, trying desperately to compose himself. “Does Richard
know?”

     “All of England knows,” Anthony replied.
“We had to stop in London to leave off the crown troops, and Richard had
declared a day of mourning. Sir Philip is inconsolable. I do not even know if
David knows.”

     “No doubt he does by now, if he is in
Canterbury,” Edward replied, struggling for his composure. “I wonder if he will
return to Lioncross now that….”

     Anthony's eyes widened and Edward
stiffened, knowing Dustin had been sighted. He knew he should rush to her and
take her inside to deliver the news, but he could not seem to move his legs. It
took all of his energy to turn around and face her as she descended the stairs,
a quizzical smile on her lips. When he saw the smile, he nearly snapped.

     “Where is Chris?” she asked curiously,
glancing about. Then, she looked annoyed. “Do not tell me he stayed behind in
London with Richard. Why could not he have come home first?”

     No one could answer her; all of their
tongues were glued to the roof of their mouth. Edward tried to force himself to
move forward, to return her to the keep, but he could not make his body obey.
Dustin's mouth pressed into an irritated line as she waited for an answer and
he knew he had to say something, but he simply couldn’t find the correct words,
praying to God to give him the strength to tell her that her husband was never
coming home.

     “So is it a surprise and he's sworn
everyone to secrecy?” She put her hands on her hips. “Well, somebody had better
tell me or no one is going anywhere. Where is he? Did he go to Canterbury, by
chance? I shall kill him if he attends David's wedding without me.”

     Jeffrey was the first to move, and even he
did not say a word. He thrust his hand at Dustin, an object between his
fingers. She glanced at it and smiled, thinking it to be a gift from her
husband. But the moment she snatched it away to examine it, she knew what it
was. Her smile fled and her knees went weak. God help her, she knew what it
was.

     She stared at it for a long, long time.
“Why do you have his ring?” she finally asked.

     Edward snapped out of his trance. Around
them, the bailey was completely silent and even with the hundreds of men, there
was absolutely no movement. Filled with people, it was as quiet as if it were
deserted.

     “I am so sorry, Dustin,” he whispered, his
eyes filled with pain.

     The gray eyes came up, swallowing him
whole. She stared at him until he felt uncomfortable. “What are you sorry for?”

     “He is gone,” Edward's voice was tight with
tears. “He is a soldier and he has died in battle, as so many others. But his
knights have recovered his wedding ring, a keepsake that meant more to him than
anything material he possessed.”

     Dustin stared back at him, the color
draining from her face. No one moved or said a word, waiting for her to fly
into a hysterical rage. After several moments, no rage was forthcoming. In
fact, she had yet to move a muscle. She simply stood there, holding the ring
before her face, staring at Edward as if he had just spoken to her in a foreign
language. Some wondered if she had understood what he had said.

     “He has not,” she said simply.

     “He has,” Edward insisted gently.

     Dustin shook her head, her nostrils flaring
and Anthony stepped forward.            “He has, my lady,” he said quietly. “I
saw the body myself. I retrieved the ring for you to keep.”

     Dustin blinked slowly, absorbing the words.
It was almost as if she had become a statue, for she moved nothing but her
eyes. It was clear that she was having a difficult time comprehending their
words, her stunned mind struggling to process the truth.

     “It is not true,” she said again, but her
voice was quivering now.

     Edward sighed faintly, putting his hands
out to her. “Let me take you inside,” he murmured.

     She yanked away from him. “Do not touch
me,” she hissed.  Then, she looked at the men surrounding her, more than anger
in her eyes. There was pure, unadulterated hatred there, a thousand accusations
of blame firing out at them. “You are lying. You are all lying!”