Rise of the Defender (126 page)

     He looked at her for a moment; of course
she was right. He had done everything but tie her to his horse. With a long
sigh, he turned away.

     “Dustin, I want you to let me love you,” he
said softly. “I thought I had enough love for the both of us, but I cannot
continue to give and not receive. You have got to give just a little, honey.”

     She stood up. “I told you I would always
love Christopher, Marcus. You knew that when you brought me here. I have never
lied to you about that and I told you I needed time, but you continue to push
me and eventually you are going to push me away from you.”

     He just hung his head and she felt sorry
for him. Lord only knew how hard he had tried to make a life for her, to love
her and care for her, and she knew she had been difficult.

     With a stab of pity, she went to him and
wrapped her arms around his waist. She held her hands up, making sure he was
looking down at them, and switched her wedding rings to the opposite hands.

     Marcus' bright gold and garnet wedding band
gleamed on the third finger of her left hand. He smiled weakly and clenched her
hands against his tight stomach.

     “Do not be angry, Marcus,” she said softly.
“You have been more than patient and I hope you do not find out too late that I
was not worth all of the grief I caused you.”

     He turned around and took her into his
arms. “Never in a million years.”

     Christin, ignored, let out a whooping yell
and they both turned to see her grinning happily back at them, chewing on a
piece of harmless grass.

     “Is she my daughter, Dustin?” he asked
softly.

     Dustin shook her head. “I see Chris in her,
Marcus. The only thing that resembles you is the color of her hair.”

     He drew in a long breath and kissed the top
of Dustin's head. “There will be more babies for me; for us. And they will all
look exactly like me.”

     “Never,” she scowled at him. “They will all
be fair like me, not dark as the devil.”

     He grinned at her, nipping at her ear
playfully and she pulled away, moving back over to retrieve her daughter before
she began grazing like a cow.

     Marcus felt as if he had won a great battle
that day. Little by little, Lady Dustin was slowly becoming his.

CHAPTER
FORTY NINE

     Christopher's last evening in camp was a
special night. Lizabetha and her host of silly adolescent friends sang a song
in his honor and he applauded graciously at the end of the warbled tune. Simon,
a poet at heart, said a special prose he had made up about the Defender and
Christopher hid a smile as the boy told of greatly exaggerated exploits. When
the boy came to a part where Christopher single-handedly captured a thousand Muslim
soldiers, it was all he could do to keep from bursting out in laughter.

     But he was nonetheless touched by the show
of respect from these people whom he had come to know over the past few months
and he shared a stew of venison and early carrots with Rob privately. The two
of them sat in the doorway to his hut, watching the rest of the camp cavort
around the fire and entertain themselves. The forest around them was dark and
silent as they finished the last of the stew.

     “What now, baron?” Rob wanted to know.

     Christopher sat down his bowl. “I return
home and pray I still have a home to return to.”

     Rob watched him for a moment. “You are
worried about your wife?”

     “More than anything,” Christopher replied.
“She's been a widow nearly three months now, a wealthy widow at that, and it is
difficult to say what's happened in my absence.”

     “I am truly sorry we could not send word of
your whereabouts,” Rob said. “I hope you understand I simply could not risk the
well-being of everyone in camp.”

     Christopher waved him off. “I understand
only too well, my lord, and your apologies are unnecessary. We all must do what
we think is best, and even though I am not nearly in prime health, I must go
home.”

     Rob nodded, taking a drink of stolen wine.
“I wish I could go home.”

     Christopher looked at him, the faint
firelight reflecting off his young face. “Someday you will. I swear it. And I
shall take great delight in ridding your keep of the prince.”

     Rob grinned. “He seems to be rather fond of
it, and Nottingham, I am told.”

     Christopher nodded in agreement. “After my
affairs at home are settled, I promise you that I will seek Richard out and
plead your case.”

     “I am loyal to Richard,” Rob said. “And to
you, Defender, whether or not you regain my keep. But until I know that Richard
won't put a noose around my neck if I show myself, I would just as soon stay to
Sherwood. I am rather fond of the place.”

     Christopher looked about him. “I had heard
this place was haunted as a boy.”

     “Haunted with thieves and rabble,” Rob
snickered. “And with an earl with no lands.”

     “John had no legal right to declare you an
outlaw,” Christopher said firmly. “You were defending what was yours.”

     Rob shrugged. “That may have well been true
then, but he has every right now. I have been stealing from his vassals for
quite some time now and that, my friend, makes me an outlaw in the eyes of
everyone.”

     “That may be true, my lord, but I shall
still plead your case to Richard, and our king always listens to me,”
Christopher said.

     Rob tried not to sound too hopeful. “We can
only pray,” he said quietly, then picked up the bowls. “Well, I am feeling
fatigued this night. I shall see you off on the morrow.”

     “My thanks, Lord Robin of the Hood,”
Christopher stood up, too. “Were it not for you, I would not be alive, and I
owe you my life.”

     “No, you do not,” Rob said with a faint
grin. “What you have done and will continue to do more than makes up for what
Marianne did for you. God must have been watching out for both of us that day
when he brought you to us.”

     Christopher nodded, watching the young lord
traipse back across the compound. He turned away, feeling his exhaustion but
not sure if his excitement would allow him to sleep.

     He stretched out across his pallet, his
mind roaming to Dustin as it always did at night, remembering the smell of her
skin, the feel of her hair, thinking that within three days he would be at her
side. It was almost too much to bear, as if tempting a starving man with food
not quite within his reach. His ache, his longing, was consuming him, but
eventually he drifted off to sleep.

     He was awakened that night by an unearthly
howl and immediately he was up, feeling the surge of adrenalin in his veins.
His breeches were barely fastened when Rob came barging into his hut.

     “Raiders, Chris.” he said breathlessly.

     Christopher yanked on his last boot and
clutched his sword. “Raiders?”

     Rob simply nodded and rushed out with
Christopher on his heels. At the far end of the camp, mailed men on horses were
bearing down with torches in hand. The shouting, the noise that resulted from
their appearance was frightening.

     But Christopher saw them immediately for
what they were, and anger swept him. “Those are no raiders, Rob, they are
John's forces,” he said quickly. “Get Simon and Marianne into the woods.
Hurry.”

     Rob, customary arrow pack slung over his
left shoulder, disappeared into the camp and Christopher quickly mapped out a
strategy. The soldiers were already beginning to burn and kill, moving through
the village like a plague. He raced back inside his hut and grabbed everything
he had come with - his tunic, his armor, his weapon and his scabbard. He knew
the hut would be burned and he did not want to lose his possessions, and with
his arms full he ducked back outside and made a dash for the woods.

     Nearly half the village was burned before
he made another appearance. He emerged from the trees dressed to the hilt for
battle; his armor secured and his stained tunic announcing just who in the
devil he was. There was no mistaking Christopher's banner, for it was one of
the most recognizable in England. Dark blue and gold told everyone that this
warrior was loyal to Richard.

     Even though he wasn't mounted, he was a
hell of an imposing sight. He marched straight up to the first mounted soldier
and deftly disarmed the man before yanking him clear of his steed. As the fool
lay dazed on the ground, Christopher put the tip of his sword against the man's
neck.

     “Return to your commander,” he said with
deadly authority “Tell him to cease this raid by command of the Defender of the
Realm, or he shall suffer at my hands personally.”

     The soldier snorted and blinked his eyes,
frozen on the ground. “The Defender of the Realm is dead. Killed in battle
three months ago. Everyone knows that.”

     “Have you ever seen the man?” Christopher
asked.

     “Aye, I have.” the soldier said
indignantly. “Tall bastard with blond hair and….”

     Christopher ripped off his helmet, fixing
the man in the eye. After a moment, the soldier's eyes widened and his mouth
hung open.

     “It
is
you,” he gasped with fear and
awe. “But they said…said you were dead. How is it you are here?”

     Christopher jabbed him in the neck to stop
him from talking anymore. “Aye, it is me, and know I mean what I say. Return to
your commander and tell him the Defender of the Realm is back from the dead.
You will leave this place.”

     “But you defend outlaws.” the soldier
snapped. “These scabs continue to commit crimes against the crown.”

     “Against John, you mean,” Christopher
replied icily. “These people are no outlaws in the eyes of our king, I assure
you. Go now, before I change my mind and remove your head from your body.”

     He backed off and the soldier rolled to his
knees, regaining his shaky feet. Christopher corralled the man's big-boned war
horse and ripped off the green and black colors. He then swung himself astride
the charger without the use of stirrups, although it had taken a bit of effort
to do so, and pointed his sword at the soldier.

     “I confiscate this horse in the name of
King Richard.” he boomed loudly. “Go, man, and deliver my message.”

     He spurred the animal in the direction of
the fighting even as the soldier wobbled off at a dead run, bearing
unbelievable news.

     The Defender was returned.

***

     As quickly as Christopher's death had
spread through the realm, the news of his resurrection spread even faster. John
and Ralph were the first to hear of it, and they killed the messenger in their
disbelief.

     Safe and sound in Nottingham, away from the
wrath of Richard for the moment, they were gravely concerned with the rumors
that Christopher de Lohr was indeed alive. Having Richard on the attack was
threat enough, but if the Defender was indeed alive, then there was good reason
to be terrified. Between the king and his champion, surely there was no hope in
retaining the keeps gained in warfare.

     Christopher had single-handedly saved Rob's
camp that night. Although substantial damage had been done, few lives were lost
and John's troops turned tail when they realized just who they were fighting
against. It had taken them months to find this den of bandits and they were
fully prepared to destroy it and capture Lord Robin of the Hood, but when they
saw Christopher de Lohr, returned to battle like Lazarus arisen, superstition
got the better of them and they retreated. Christopher purposely fought with
his helmet off so John's men could witness his face and return with the news.
He had hoped that his presence would make John think twice before attacking
these people again.

     Rob and Jonathan were quite amazed to see
him in battle. They knew his reputation and assumed that he had not gained it
by being a loaf, but to see him in action was a sight to behold. He moved with
such ease and grace that Rob was nearly nailed twice by enemy soldiers as he
watched him fight, hypnotized.

     When the soldiers retreated and the camp
grew quiet in the last couple of hours before dawn, Christopher slept a short
time but arose quickly to depart. Rob, Jonathan and Simon saw him off aboard
his confiscated destrier, and Christopher had to be stern with Simon, for the
boy was on the verge of tears the entire time.
Knights do not cry
, he
told him with gentle firmness, although it was a lie. He had cried his share
since he had met his wife. His body tingling with excitement, he loped from the
burned camp without a hind glance.