Rise of the Defender (132 page)

     “I see,” he rose stiffly, feeling his anger
rise. “Damn, Marcus, was David right? Should I have killed you the very first
time you kissed my wife? Would that have spared me all of this pain and
anguish?” he focused on Marcus. “I trusted and respected you till the very
last, Marcus. But from what you have just told me, any last shred that existed
is gone. Hell, even as I rode here with Richard, I was hoping beyond hope we
could remain friends, but I see that you have rendered that quite impossible. I
always knew you to be cunning and sly, but never against me. You have betrayed
me, Marcus, beyond repair.”

     Marcus looked deeply saddened and guilty.
He knew Christopher was right and he was disgusted with his lack of control.
But the fact remained his motives had been true, even if his tactics weren't.

     “I can only apologize, Chris. 'Tis your
right to accept or reject it,” he said.

     Christopher paused a moment. “I reject it.
And Christin goes with her mother.”

     Marcus looked away a moment, feeling the
grip of his sword in his hand. “Then I guess there is nothing left to say. I
have enjoyed our friendship, Chris, in spite of everything.”

     Christopher was returned to the hard
Defender, his face emotionless as he secured his helmet and lowered his
faceplate.

     “Now I must do what I should have done a
year ago,” he said. “May God have mercy on your soul, Marcus.”

     Marcus lowered his visor, not the least bit
apprehensive. “And on yours, Christopher.”

     The Defender of the Realm face off against
Richard's mightiest general. Each man knew the other's skills and weaknesses,
having fought with each other long enough to know his opponents responses. When
the first blow came, from Christopher no less, the clash of blade upon blade
shook all of Somerhill to the very rafters.

***

     Instead of feeling weakened, Christopher
had never felt so powerful. It was as if he had never been injured, and Marcus
fought as if his right hand had never been crushed. Blow upon blow slammed
against each other with unimaginable strength, their teeth rattling and their
heads jarring at the force. But this was the fight of their lives, as if all of
the preparing and practice that they had gone through their entire lives was
now suddenly coming to bear. This was the pinnacle they never thought to
achieve, yet were just the same.

     They plowed their way through the great
hall, grunting and snorting with effort, tearing the place apart until it
looked as if a platoon of thieves had gone through. The only thing remotely
spared was the massive oak table, but it had suffered greatly in the clash.

     Christopher's stamina was holding very well
as he slashed away at Marcus, all of the anger and pain of betrayal finding an
outlet through the serrated broadsword. He would have much rather beaten Marcus
to a pulp with his fists, but David's words kept ringing true in his ears;
you
should have killed him when he first lay hands on Dustin.
He would not make
the same mistake twice, as much as it pained him.

     Marcus deftly danced around a huge cabinet,
pulling it down behind him and it crashed with a deafening roar to the ground.
Christopher acted as if it wasn't even so much as an obstacle, he charged over
it, smashing through the wood as he plowed his way to Marcus. Broadswords met
with the stone wall, emitting a shower of sparks as Marcus dodged Christopher's
fury.

     All of Somerhill was in hiding, waiting
until it was safe to come out. Everyone knew that Lord Christopher and Lord
Marcus were going at it, and the knights purposely kept all of the soldiers
outside in the outer bailey, as far away as they could from the fighting.
Edward was nearly frantic to get inside, but Sean and Nicholas restrained him
uneasily. Several feet away, Sir Stephen, Dud and Sir Dalton eyed Lioncross'
knights with a mixture of suspicion and regret. The tension in the air was
tangible.

     Marcus took the offensive well into the
bout, hoping that Christopher had tired himself out enough to the point that
defeat might be in sight. He charged headlong at the Defender and they both
went tumbling down a short flight of stairs, ending up in a dimly lit corridor
that led to the small chapel where Marcus and Dustin were married. It was
fairly dark and their blows met with each other a good deal more than they had
out in the well-lit main hall. Christopher landed a particularly vicious strike
to Marcus' torso, in the weak point where the breastplate met the lower body
armor, and blood stained the mail.

     It was a bloody nick, but not too severe,
and Marcus strove onward, fighting Christopher for all he was worth. The power,
the strength coming from a man who was declared dead not four months ago was
amazing; in fact, he hadn't seen Christopher stronger in spite of his
weight-loss. If anything, he was more agile than ever.

     With renewed determination, Marcus met the
onslaught and countered.

***

     “I cannot stand this anymore,” Dustin
whispered painfully. “I do not hear them. Where did they go?”

     Richard cocked a well-trained ear. “I still
hear them, but they have moved away from us. Aye, they are both still alive.”

     Dustin clutched her stomach. “Oh, lord, I
think I am going to be ill. Why are they doing this? Why?”

     Richard smiled ironically, his gaze
averted. “For a reason I never thought I would see. For the love of you.”

     “But I only love Christopher,” she
insisted. “Why does Marcus insist on going through with this battle? If he
wins, I shall hate him until I die.”

     “Men do strange things when they are in
love,” Richard said vaguely.

     Dustin looked at the king, forgetting about
her own anguish for a moment. “This distresses you greatly, sire. You love both
Christopher and Marcus, don’t you?”

     “As if they were my brothers,” Richard
replied wearily. “Oh, my lady, the stories I could tell you of them, their
bravery and devotion to me. To see it come to this is unbelievable.”

     Because of her. All of this, because of
her. Richard was losing his throne and the two men who could help him regain it
were fighting over her. She felt guilty and worthless. Mayhap if she had died
in childbirth, the wrongs would have righted themselves. Christopher and Marcus
had loved each other, once. And that love was gone because of her. All of this
was her fault.

     Mayhap if she left, things would go back
the way they were. But where would she go? Her father had been a friend of the
Earl of Wrexham. Mayhap he would take her. What of Lord Sedgewick? She could go
and live with him and Anne, and serve as Anne's lady. Mayhap if she explained
the situation, they would take her in. But she would swear them to secrecy;
Christopher must never know where she went. For all he would know, she had run
away and disappeared.

     Hot tears stung her eyes; she loved Christopher
so much that she could not stand to be away from him, yet she would have to put
her feelings aside. Lord, she had only this day learned he was alive and now
she was considering leaving him. But the value of his life and Marcus’ life was
more important than her feelings, and considering she had caused all of this
havoc, she did not deserve anyone's love. Besides, Christopher could not truly
be happy with her; all she had done was cause dissension and misery among him
and his men.

     She had been a weak, indecisive mass of
humanity ever since Christopher had 'died.’ She knew that he was alive and for
that, she was somehow made whole again. But the division she had caused made
her ashamed of herself, even though she had not knowingly done anything. She
truly believed if she left, then all would right itself. There would no longer
be any reason to fight if she were gone.

     Dustin was intelligent, but she was naive.
She believed more with each passing moment that if she were gone, Christopher
and Marcus would stop trying to kill each other and Richard would stop
resenting her. Then, mayhap, someday, she would seek her husband again. Mayhap
he would have a chance to clear his mind and decide if she was truly worth the
pain she had caused.

     She rose unsteadily, eyeing Richard where
the king sat in the corner. Fighting off the tears, she approached him.

     “Sire,” she said softly. “I am....I am not
feeling very well. I would retire to my rooms to rest, if I may.”

     He gazed at her. “You look tired. Go as you
will, my lady. Would you like me to escort you?”

     “Nay,” she shook her head quickly. “I am
quite able, sire.”

     He watched her go, only imagining the toll
this turmoil must be causing her. But she was handling herself remarkable well,
he thought. She was handling it better than he was, in fact. Yet, in truth,
there was nothing else they could do but sit and wait.

***

     Christopher and Marcus ripped the chapel
apart beam by beam and had, amazingly enough, rendered little damage to each
other. Neither man's strength was waning, feeding off their adrenalin as they
fought each other as if either man was Lucifer himself. Strangely, neither man
felt hatred, only a sense of duty. They ceased to see each other as Christopher
and Marcus and began to view the armored opponent as just that - a faceless
enemy.  It was the only way to keep deep, deep emotions from tearing them
apart.

     Dustin was shaking with nerves and purpose.
She had dressed in a thick woolen surcoat and had packed an extra surcoat and
items for Christin in a small satchel that could be easily concealed beneath
her heavy cloak. She knew what she was planning was hastily thought of, and
that it was dangerous for a woman and child to travel alone, but she ignored
her common sense. She could fight well and protect both herself and her
daughter, and with renewed determination, she went to find Christin.

     Sara had the babe in the nursery, playing
with her on the floor. Dustin breezed in and snatched her child, dismissing
Sara rudely. When the maid left, she quickly dressed Christin in layers of warm
clothing and took her back into her own chambers.

     Gathering her things and wrapping herself
and her daughter in her warm cloak, she left the room without a back glance.
She was leaving and she was never coming back.

     It had been remarkably easy to slip out of
the castle unseen, for the halls were deserted. She could not hear the fighting
anymore, but she did not think on lt. She had to force her fear and terror from
her mind and focus on her task ahead. Urgency filled her as she raced from the
keep and into the inner bailey.

     Marcus had shown her a tunnel that led
through the inner wall to the outer bailey, and she slipped through, ducking
when a sentry passed too close. The sun was setting as she dashed, unseen by
the hundreds of soldiers to her back, as she raced to another gate and stealthy
snuck into the stables.

     Hercules snickered softly and she shushed
him, setting Christin down while she bridled and saddled the horse. Christin
was perfectly happy sitting in the clean straw, sticking pieces in her mouth
and smiling sweetly at her mother. Stable boys and grooms passed by the stall
on a few occasions, but Dustin was able to prepare the horse undetected. The
trick would be, however, taking him out of the stable.

     There was a small, arched tunnel that led
from the outer wall to the countryside beyond. If she could lead Hercules to
it, she was sure he would fit and she could take him out unseen. Otherwise, she
would have to go through the front gates, and that would mean meeting up with
Edward and the rest of the knights. She had no doubt that whatever excuse she
gave them, they would refuse to let her leave. But leave she would, and she
finally decided as she cinched the saddle that she would ride to Baron
Sedgewick's In Wiltshire, she could make the journey in three days. She prayed
the weather and her courage would hold out.

     With Hercules ready, she tied Christin to
the front of her with a thick scarf, forming a little cocoon for the babe.
Christin cooed and sucked her thumb and Dustin was so thankful she was blessed
with a good-natured babe.

     Keeping her eyes alert, Dustin led Hercules
from his stall and immediately spied the gated tunnel. A few stable boys milled
about several stalls down, but for the most part, the stables were deserted.
Everyone had gone to see who would be victorious in the fight between
Christopher and Marcus, and the diversion worked in her favor.

     With a kiss to Christopher and a prayer to
God, Dustin led Hercules through the old gate.

Richard lost track of all time sitting, waiting
for the victor to come and collect the spoils he had worked so hard for. In
fact, he even dozed off and was surprised to awaken to a dark room, knowing
that he had slept much longer than he had intended.

     A servant entered the room, bearing cheese
and wine for the king, and Richard took a big bite of cheese before wondering
if Lady Dustin would like some. Still resting, he presumed, he decided not to
wake her up. Instead, he wandered out into the corridor to see how the battle
was progressing.