Rise of the Defender (129 page)

     “He rides with Richard by his side, and you
cannot stop our king,” Philip said. “According to Edward, Christopher is riding
to Windsor to seek reinforcements and then to Somerhill to retrieve Lady
Dustin, who by now is probably Lady Burton.”

     David eyed Philip for a moment before
turning away. “This is all madness. Jesus, if Christopher had just killed
Marcus the first time he made a move on Dustin, none of this would be
happening. Now the whole goddamn country is going to fall apart because my
brother and his former best friend cannot keep their hands off the same woman.”

     “What are you going to do?” Philip asked
softly.

     David thought a moment. “Take a couple of
hundred men with me and ride for Somerhill, I suppose, but I do not know what
good it will do. Lord Hampton may want to go, even though he considers himself
retired after turning his troops over to me.” He glanced at Philip. “What about
you? You have a hundred men lodged here in Canterbury. Will you go with me?”

     “You forget, I brought Edward here for the
wedding, and I shall not allow my twelve-year-old son to ride into battle,”
Philip said. “Nay, when I leave, it will be to return to Lohrham Forest. I
shall let you deal with Christopher; I never could. The only man who could
remotely handle him was Richard.”

     “Christopher respected you, Uncle,” David
said. “He always listened when you spoke.”

     Philip snorted. “Listened to me and then
did exactly as he pleased, anyway. Nay, David, whatever happens is between
Christopher and Marcus. Richard is likely to be torn in two if he intervenes.”

     There was a soft rap on the solar door and
the Lady Emilie de Lohr stuck her head in, smiling tenderly at her new husband.

     “Mother is serving refreshments in the
smaller hall. I promised I'd tell you.”

     David smiled back at his new wife, truly
fond of the woman to the point of falling in love with her. And why not? She
was a soft, gentle beauty and a tremendous flirt. He liked that.

     “You did, my sweet,” David replied. “Tell
Mother we shall be there in a moment.”

     Emilie nodded, then cocked her head
quizzically at her husband. “Is something wrong? You do not look well.”

     David snickered ironically. “No, sweet,
nothing is wrong. We shall be along.”

     Emilie took the hint like a good wife and
closed the door behind her. David glanced at Philip. “Now, if that were Dustin,
she'd be in here beating me to a pulp until I let her read the missive. I was
terrified to take a wife because I was afraid they were all like her.”

     Philip laughed. “And this is the woman a
country is tearing itself apart over? Most confusing.”

     David was jesting, of course, trying to
alleviate some of the tension. As he turned to his uncle again, the door to the
solar flew open and a tall, gangly blond youth appeared.

     “Father!” he exclaimed. “The mare is
foaling. Lord Hampton promised I could have the foal.”

     “So he did,” Philip rose, eyeing his son
critically. “Eddie, are you old enough to see an actual birth?”

     Edward de Lohr scowled at his father. “I
have seen worse. Come quickly. David, you come, too.”

     David waved him off, watching his uncle and
cousin quit the room.

     When they were gone, he sighed heavily and
sank into the nearest chair. He could scarcely believe that Christopher was
alive, but all the more thankful that the rumors of his death had been untrue.
He could only imagine the turmoil his brother was going through, knowing his
wife was with another man, and there were so many unanswered questions that
David was wildly confused.

     He knew he had to go north, if nothing more
than to show support for his brother. He would apologize to Christopher for the
things he had said about Dustin and prayed his brother would forgive him. He
could only hope that with all of his other troubles, Christopher would be
willing to put theirs aside. Dustin had forgiven him and he hoped his brother
was in the same spirit.

     Emilie was waiting for him in the hall. He
saw her sweet, rounded face and took her into his arms. She blushed as he
kissed her, feeling flushed and warm.

     “Ah, let me guess,” David said seductively.
“You cannot wait for me to bed you again.”

     “David.” Emilie gasped in mock outrage. “Do
not say such things. My sisters are liable to hear and….”

     He frowned. “They hear everything, Emilie,
no matter if it is whispered or shouted. Nathalie and Elise have ears all over
this damn place. They are probably around the corner right now, giggling their
heads off.”

     Emilie smiled at the mirth of it. “They are
only children, for God's sake. Do not get so angry.”

     “Children? Ha! You mean the Devil's own
offspring.” he snorted. “At fourteen and sixteen years of age, I would hardly
call them children.”

     Emilie kissed him softly, making him forget
all about her annoying sisters. “No wonder your father was so glad when I came
along,” he purred against her cheek. “He has had his fill of women.”

     David rolled his eyes as he rubbed his
cheek against hers. “The poor man is outnumbered.”

     “You have evened out the odds somewhat.”

     “Not enough.”

     Emilie giggled, letting him hold her and
kiss her for a few moments. “What did the missives from Lioncross say?” she
asked casually.

     He pulled back and cocked an eyebrow. “You
little minx, using affection to gain information.”
     “I am not.” she replied indignantly. “I simply wanted to know if it said
something about Dustin and Christin.”

     He looked at her a moment before releasing
her from his embrace and taking her hand. “Let's go find your father, then. I
think he would like to hear this, too.”

***

     Richard took the news of Christopher's
reappearance with great shock and relief. Such things as a mistaken death were
possible, he only knew too well, and he had a mass said immediately in thanks.
Two missives had arrived from Lioncross Abbey, one from Christopher and one
from Edward de Wolfe.

     Christopher's missive gave a brief
explanation and outlined his request and future plans, and Edward's was far
more concerned with Christopher's march on Somerhill. The man was extremely
concerned that Christopher and Marcus were going to stage an all-out battle for
Lady Dustin, and Edward was furthermore concerned with the fact that
Christopher had no intention of sending word to Marcus of his impending visit.

     Richard sighed after he read the missives;
the situation was to take a turn for the worst, he could see, and he rapidly
made a few decisions - he would grant Christopher his request for troops, yet
he himself would ride with the Defender to Somerhill in hopes of preventing a
blood-bath. He could, of course, deny Christopher's request, but with
everything the man had done for him, he could not refuse him in good
conscience. Secondly, he personally would send word of their plans to Marcus
Burton so the man would be somewhat prepared for their arrival. If Christopher
was to be angry about the leak of information, then let him be angry with the
king. Richard felt it was only right to let Marcus in on what was going on.

     The king was torn between his two greatest
warriors; who to support, who to defend, and most importantly, what to do about
Lady Dustin. He could hardly believe these two seasoned soldiers were fighting
over the same woman, like two dogs over a bone. It was ridiculous at best, but
nonetheless very grave. Both of them loved her, and matters of the heart were
always the most serious. But she was, after all, Christopher’s wife first and
he himself had ordered them wed. Marcus Burton had no legal claim over her now
that Christopher was returned and any marriage was dissolved, but Richard knew
the solution would not be as easy as that.

     He dreaded the ride north, of what would
take place. And he was very, very sorry for he knew that he would lose at least
one of the two to death’s vile clutches before all was said and done.

CHAPTER
FIFTY ONE

     The army was sighted at dawn.

     Nearly three thousand troops descended on
Somerhill under the summer sunrise, looking like an army of ants in the
distance. Like a black tide of men and horses, they approached the keep in a
steady rhythm, scrutinized by the troops atop the massive wall of the castle.

     Marcus Burton watched them closer than
anyone, knowing exactly who they were, yet his heart still sank when he saw
Richard's and Christopher's banner flying side by side. He could not fight the
king; he had contemplated holding out, but he knew that would be disastrous. He
had no choice but to open his gates to Richard or face the consequences, and he
was greatly troubled.

     The missive announcing Christopher’s
resurrection had been nothing short of a blinding shock. Marcus would not have
believed it except that one of Richard’s personal knights delivered it and
vouched on behalf of the king that the Defender was, indeed, alive. Marcus had
raged for an hour after reading it, accusing the king of subversion, and went
so far as to throw the knight from his keep.  But he recalled the knight an
hour later, sat down with him in the great hall of Somerhill, and questioned
him most of the night. Only then had he been satisfied that Christopher de Lohr
somehow, someway, had returned from the dead. It was as sickening as it had
been astonishing.

     After his disbelief had settled into edgy
acceptance, his focus inevitably turned to Dustin. Marcus purposely kept the
missive contents from her, simply waiting for the right time to tell her, but
it never seemed appropriate. Truth was, it had taken him a long time to advance
their relationship to what it had become and he knew the moment he told her
that her first husband was alive, it would dash it all out the window. And he
loved Dustin too terribly to risk that until it was absolutely necessary. 
Selfish, he knew, but he didn’t care.  But now, three weeks after he received
the missive, the time was upon him.

     The army came to a halt about a quarter of
a mile from the fortress and set up siege lines; Marcus could see the careful
battle lines from where he stood. It was classic de Lohr tactics. After the
lines were drawn, two riders broke off from the main body and thundered towards
the gatehouse. Marcus ordered the gates open, ushering in the riders. Marcus saw
very shortly that is was Christopher and Richard. He met them in the outer
bailey, his big body tense and unfriendly.

     The silence between the three of them was
uncomfortable and electric. No one seemed to want to speak first or even move;
it was a stand-off, each man waiting for the other to break. Christopher
finally flipped up his visor and met Marcus' cobalt-blue eyes for the first
time. For Marcus, it was a distinct shock looking into the eyes of a dead man. 

     “You cannot have her,” he growled.

     “Dammit, Marcus,” Richard snapped. “What
kind of greeting is that?”

     Marcus cleared his throat, glancing at
Richard and then back to Christopher. “I am pleased to see that you are not
truly dead.”

     Christopher snorted rudely. “Somehow I
doubt that. Where is my wife?”

     “
My
wife is inside,” Marcus
corrected him coldly. “I did not tell her you were coming.”

     “What?” Richard gasped before Christopher
could speak. “She does not know we have arrived?”

     “Nay,” Marcus was dangerously close to
insubordination as he spoke to his king. “In fact, she does not know
Christopher is alive. I did not tell her.”

     Christopher flew off his destrier, his
boots thumping against the earth and his big body posturing angrily.

     “You
bastard
,” he hissed. “You
filthy, low-life bastard. I ought to....”

     Richard bailed off his destrier in time to
grab hold of Christopher. “Easy, baron, easy,” he said, looking to Marcus
again. “That was most unwise of you, Marcus. And selfish.”

     “Selfish?” Marcus repeated as if he hadn't
heard correctly. “Sire, I beg to differ. 'Twas a choice I made for the sanity
of my wife, who is with child and quite easily upset.”

     Christopher visibly swayed in Richard's
grasp and Richard glanced uneasily at the man; the veins on his neck throbbed
erratically and his pale lips were open in shock.  Christopher didn’t look at
all well. With a long look at Marcus, he pulled himself from the king’s grasp
and struggled to compose himself.

     Marcus was so torn it was unbelievable.
Christopher had been his best friend, once, but now he was his sworn enemy. Yet
he couldn’t help feeling vastly relieved to see the man alive, in spite of
everything. He had a difficult time believing things had deteriorated the way
they had, but truthfully the only thing that mattered was Dustin. She made him
blind to everything else.