Rise of the Defender (128 page)

     Christopher's face was dark as he absently
studied his goblet. “She's my wife, Edward, and Christin is my daughter. I
appreciate Marcus taking care of them, but the fact remains that they are mine.
And I will take back what is mine.”

     “At what cost? Dustin's sanity?” Edward
fired back gently. “Think long and hard on this approach, Defender. Use your
mighty wisdom now, more than ever.”

     Christopher started to reply when there was
a rap at the solar door. Max, Anthony, Jeffrey, Nicholas, Sean, and Guy pushed
the door open before being invited and Christopher motioned them into the room.
He knew how stunned and curious they were.

     “'Tis really you, my lord?” Anthony asked
timidly.

     “Truly, Anthony,” Christopher smiled
wearily.

     The men shook their heads, astonished. “But
you
died
. I saw your body.” Anthony insisted.

     “I do not know whose body you saw, but it
wasn't mine,” Christopher replied.

     Something shot in through the doorway, a
wisp of an animal level with their shins. Harold threw himself into his
master's arms, licking crazily and wagging his stubby tail so hard he
threatened to shake it off. Christopher grinned as he fought off the
affectionate attack.

     “Hal, you fat little maggot,” he exclaimed
softly. “I was wondering where in the hell you were.”

     “Well, that is good enough for me,” Max
said softly. “He's no ghost or the dog would not go near him.”

     Hal was in dog heaven as Christopher
scratched him roughly. Edward shook his head at the two of them. “He wouldn't
leave with Dustin, you know,” he said.  She took every animal but him. It was
as if he was rooted here.”

     “'Tis because he knew I would return,”
Christopher said, throwing Hal off his lap only to have the dog spring up
again. It was a game they played, the harder Christopher tossed him, the more
eager he was to return for more. He ended up throwing the dog across the room
and Hal raced back, wagging his tall and dancing with delight when Christopher
put his hand down to let him know he was sincere about not wanting him in his
lap.

     Anthony was still shaken. He watched
Christopher and the dog, letting out a blustery sigh. “You….I mean, the body,
was wedged beneath Zephyr. I even retrieved your wedding ring for your wife.”

     Christopher looked at him a moment as if he
suddenly realized something. “Leeton,” he whispered. “I gave my wedding ring to
Leeton to give to Dustin. He was wedged beneath Zephyr, did you say?”

     Understanding spread between the men, as if
the pieces of a puzzle were suddenly coming together.

     “He must have taken your horse,” Anthony
said quietly. “His steed sustained a heavy battle wound and he must have taken
Zephyr when you were injured.”

     Christopher closed his eyes for a moment,
feeling the loss of his dear friend. “Did you send word to Derby?”

     “Aye, we did. His son turned two years old
on the very day of Leeton's death,” Max replied. “The earl sent a long missive
back, informing us of Richard's progress. A smart little lad, he says. I
suppose not a tragedy from the boy's point of view, considering he never knew
Leeton.”

     Christopher sighed, rising on his long
legs. “I suppose. But I do not understand one thing - other than the wedding
ring and the destrier, why did you think Leeton was me? We look nothing alike.
Surely you could have seen....”

     Anthony shook his head. “The body was
rotted so badly that we could not tell any facial features, except for the
blond hair. You both have blond hair.”

     Christopher nodded in instant
understanding. “Naturally, you assumed it was me. I understand a great deal
now.”

     He wandered over to the window overlooking
the bailey and his men watched him closely, still finding it very difficult to
believe he was returned. Half of them expected to blink their eyes and he would
be gone, but several minutes in his presence convinced them that he was no
apparition. This was the baron, the powerful Defender, and then joy began to
override their disbelief.

     “Surely we must send missives to King
Richard, and David.” Anthony said after several moments. “They must know you
are alive. And we shall send a missive to Marc....”

     He suddenly looked to Edward, who shook his
head darkly. It occurred to all of the knights at the same time that
Christopher’s' wife had gone with Marcus.

     Christopher turned around and eyed his men
with the sudden silence. Then his eyes fell on Edward. “I ride for Somerhill
come the morrow,” he said quietly. “I go to retrieve my wife.”

     Edward hung his head. “'Tis wrong, I tell
you. You shall only upset her further.”

     Christopher bit off a harsh retort,
instead, turning back to the bailey again. “I have returned from the dead,
Edward. That fact alone will upset her; it doesn't matter how it is presented,”
he suddenly turned for Anthony and Jeffrey. “How many men do I carry now?”

     “Eight hundred, sire,” Jeffrey replied.

     “Mount all but one hundred of them,”
Christopher ordered swiftly, the excitement of the march filling him. He was in
command once again. “And, indeed, send word to Richard. Tell him I am riding
for Windsor and that I will be taking two thousand crown troops with me to
Somerhill. Then send word to my brother; tell him of my plans but do not ask
him to join me. I simply wish for David to know I am alive.”

     Jeffrey and Anthony took Nicholas with them
as they went about carrying out their orders. Christopher focused on Max and
Sean.

     “I want the men carrying crossbows,” he
said, “and I want the border post reinforced with ten men. I want no Welsh
surprises while Lioncross is running with a skeleton guard.”

     Guy was the only knight left in the room
without duties. He faced Christopher expectantly. “You will carry the missive
to Richard. You will not wait for a reply and you will join my army as quickly
as possible.”

     Guy saluted sharply and spun on his heel,
quitting the room in a jangle of armor. When all were gone, Christopher turned
to Edward and, satisfied, drained his cup.

     “Ah, I see the mighty Lion's Claw has
indeed returned,” Edward said with a faint smirk. “But, in faith, you look a
bit pale and underfed. How do you feel?”

     “Pale and underfed,” Christopher agreed.
“But that will take care of itself. My concern right now is to return my wife
home.”

     Edward nodded in resignation; he knew there
was nothing more he could say. “I am riding with you,” he said flatly. “Leave
Kessler in charge of Lioncross.”

     Christopher eyed him with an amused smile.
Edward was becoming quite adept at giving orders, even to him. “Aye, my lord.”

***                                        

     Gowen had nearly passed out from the sight
of Christopher, turning a sickly green until Christopher gave him a sharp slap
on the cheek to bring him about. Thrilled and stunned, he went to inform his
wife and prayed the shock wouldn't turn her milk sour. Little Michael was
having a difficult enough time feeding and Griselda was worried for the infant.

     Deborah shrieked and cried with disbelief,
crying even harder when Christopher entered her bedchamber and took her in his
arms. Deborah sobbed over and over how mad Dustin had become, how consumed with
grief she had been, and strongly urged him to go and get his wife. Christopher
swore that he would, but not before he held his new nephew a good, long time,
remembering his sweet little Christin with great longing.

     News of Christopher's return spread through
Lioncross and the village like a raging fire and before the hour was out
peasants were turning up at the gates, clamoring to catch a glimpse of their
lord. Christopher was touched, but he was more concerned with preparing for his
journey.

     Trouble was, he was feeling distinctly
weakened from his ride home and he still wasn't up to full strength. He knew
the ride to Windsor and then north would be a rough one, and to take on Marcus
immediately in battle frankly worried him. He had always been able to out-fight
Marcus, but in his weakened condition, he wasn't sure if he would be
successful. He actually began to think that Marcus might have a chance to beat
him but he quickly shoved that thought from his mind. He was the Defender. He
was unbeatable.

     “What's wrong, Chris?” Edward was standing
at the door to his bedchamber, gazing at him with concern.

     Christopher realized he was hunched over,
leaning on a chair for support. Quickly, he stood up. “Nothing at all,” he
said. “Are the men preparing?”

     “As you ordered, sire.” Edward came into
the room. “Look, Chris, we both know you have seen better days. You are still
recovering from that wound, I'd say. Mayhap your age is finally catching up
with you.”

     “I am only thirty-six,” Christopher
replied. “I am not that damn old.”

     “Aye, you are, and your body isn't healing
as well as it has in the past,” Edward said. “Just look at you; you are thinner
than I have ever seen you and you lack the vigor of the Christopher I know.
Mayhap you should wait before you try and tackle Marcus.”

     “Nay,” Christopher snapped. “I am fine,
Edward, so leave me alone. We ride tomorrow.”

     Edward shook his head. “You cannot fight
Marcus like this. He will murder you.”

     Christopher flared, clenching his fists.
“What would you suggest, then? Dustin is my wife, Edward, and the thought of
her was the only thing that kept me alive. I must have her, I
will
have
her, and if tearing down Somerhill is the only way to get her back, then so be
it.”

     Edward saw this situation for much more
than it was. Christopher wasn't at all well, yet he still intended to charge
north to take back what was rightfully his. But it was more than that; he loved
Dustin so fiercely that he was willing to risk his life to get her back. His heart
ached for his friend.

     “Why don’t you simply send a missive to
Marcus and ask him to bring her back?” Edward said. “With you alive, his
marriage to her is void. He has no claim on her.”

     “Oh, Edward,” Christopher waved him off in
irritation. “You said yourself how determined he was to keep her. He will not
bring her back.”

     “If Richard told him to, he might,” Edward
said hopefully. “Richard would deny you nothing.”

     Christopher shook his head and stripped off
his tunic, giving Edward another view of the scar and his body. Not so much
sheer mass anymore, but leaner and more defined. Aye, he was thinner, but he
certainly did not lack for muscle. In fact, he looked better than Edward had
ever remembered.

     “If I cannot fight for what is mine, I
certainly will not have anyone else do it for me,” he replied, grunting as he
stretched out his torso muscles. “I appreciate your advice, Edward, but my mind
is set. I go for Dustin tomorrow.”

     Edward shrugged in defeat and quit the
room, moving swiftly down the corridor and descending to the first floor. It
would seem that he had a couple of missives of his own to send this night.

CHAPTER FIFTY

     David's handsome face was white as he stood
by the ornate glass window, looking over the inner courtyard of Canterbury
Castle. Beside him, Philip de Lohr sat motionless.

     “He's alive,” Philip whispered in
disbelief.

     David was overwhelmed with the contents of
the missive, so much so that he did not trust himself to speak immediately
after reading it. But now, having had the chance to mull it over in his
frazzled mind, he would speak.

     “Dustin is with Marcus,” he murmured. “And
I let her go. After he kills Marcus, he is going to come and kill me.”

     “Do not be ridiculous,” Philip snapped
softly. “You were obeying a direct order from Richard. He ordered you away, and
you had to go. If Chris is going to kill anyone, let it be our king. He gave
Marcus his blessing.

     David turned away from the window, his face
sunburned from an entire afternoon of practicing in the late spring sun. The
past three days had been the most cataclysmic of his life, getting married and
learning that his late brother was not at all dead. It was almost more than he
could take.

     “How is it that he was mistaken for dead?”
David wondered aloud. “I do not understand how Anthony could have made such a
mistake. Even Burwell declared him dead. I do not understand any of this.”

     Philip picked up the missive from Edward;
it had come alongside the message from Christopher. “'Twould do you well to
ride for the north and prevent your brother from tearing Marcus apart. Edward
seems to think it will be a full scale war.”

     “Edward likes to overreact,” David said
flatly. “But he is right in assuming I would want to know of my brother's
plans. If anyone can stop him, I can.”