Rise of the Defender (146 page)

     Christopher gazed at him a moment. “And you
were right both times, Edward. God help me, I should have indeed listened to
you and I shall forever regret my rashness. I am sorry I hurt your feelings,
old man. I never meant to.”

     Edward lifted his visor, a faint smile on
his lips. “I can die happy now. I do not think I have ever heard you apologize
for anything you have done, Chris. It makes all of my humiliation worth it.”

     “Humiliation? I have never humiliated you.”
Christopher said, fighting off a grin. “Bullied you, scorned you mayhap, but never
humiliated. You are by far my wisest friend, de Wolfe. You are invaluable to
me.”

     Edward snorted. “Is this what death has
done to you? Made you humble and sentimental beyond belief?”

     Christopher scowled. “David said the same
thing. I have not changed that much.”

     Edward's eyes twinkled and he lowered his
visor. When he spoke, there was amazement in his voice. “Oh, yes, you have.”

***

     Lines were set and there was naught else to
do but position the senior knights and move out. Christopher reined his destrier
between Richard and Marcus, waiting for the final command from his liege.

     But Richard was a thousand miles away,
staring at the dark hulk of Nottingham as if he was hypnotized by the sight.
His men waited patiently, silently, listening to the murmurs among their own
men and the distant shouts from the soldiers in the fortress, all waiting for
the final command that would move them forward and toward their destiny. Some
would die, some would live, and then excitement for the battle made their blood
pump loudly in their ears. The wait for the command merely served to feed their
drive.

     “Sire?” Christopher finally inquired after
several minutes.

     Richard drew in a long, slow breath as a
man usually does when he awakens from a deep sleep. “I have not seen my brother
in four years,” he said softly.  “A pity we have to meet like this.” He turned
to Christopher and lowered his voice. “John is not to be touched by anyone. Is
that clear?”

     Christopher stiffened; he knew Richard was
referring to him. In hindsight, he had known that Richard was going to demand
this of him and he had tried to prepare himself, but the answer still came hard
and forced. John, by virtue of birth, was untouchable, and it cut Christopher
to the bone, especially if the prince had touched Dustin in any way. To cut
John down would surely be his own death, and he had promised Dustin that he
would not die. The paradox was overwhelming.

     Slowly, he nodded once and Richard was
satisfied. The king's gaze then sought out Marcus and demanded the same of him,
also met by an equally reluctant affirmation. Relieved that mayhap the most
important point was clear to all of them, he turned his attention back to the
fortress and prepared to give the supreme order.

     Before the command could leave his lips,
the man-sized door within the massive outer gate opened and a figure spilled
forward. Although they were several hundred feet away, everyone recognized the
Sheriff of Nottingham, dressed in black leather and armor. Ralph stood just
outside the door, his arrogant gaze moving over Richard’s army.

     “Archers,” Marcus rumbled a command next to
him, but Christopher held up a hand quickly.

     “Nay, not yet,” he said. “He has something
to say. Let him say it and then we kill him. Aim for the neck.”

     Marcus relayed the order to the sergeant,
his eyes trained on the sheriff and his massive body tensed like stone.

     “I wonder what in the hell he wants?”
Richard ventured.

     Ralph did not keep them waiting.
“Greetings, King Richard… de Lohr….Burton. How nice of you to come.”

     No one replied and Ralph smiled humorously.
“I would admit you to the keep but we have, well, little room with all of
John's troops and the peasants huddled inside. It seems your army scared them
soundly.”

     “We scared your troops?” David yelled back before
anyone could stop him. “I would believe that.”

     Richard's men in earshot laughed
uproariously but Ralph did not miss a beat.

     “Ah, Lion Cub, I see you are still as
biting as always,” he said. “Strange to see you bearing arms with your brother
and Marcus Burton again. I had heard you had been exiled to France for bedding
their wife.”

     David's horse jerked when the rider tensed.
Marcus and Christopher sat like stone, but inside, they were white with anger
and hatred. Ralph was deliberately provoking them and they knew it.

     “What is it that you have come to say, Fitz
Walter?” Richard inquired in his booming tone.

     Ralph half-bowed to the return monarch,
acknowledging the sound of his voice. “Sire, 'tis good to see you riding the
green fields of England again. I am sure it is something entirely foreign to
you, to ride in your own country,” he jabbed. “Can I assume, then, that you
received our message?”

     “Message? What message?” Richard repeated.

     “Regarding Lady de Lohr, sire,” Ralph
reminded him as if he were a child. “She is our guest here at Nottingham.”

     Christopher twitched but Richard quietly,
sharply, stilled him. “I am fully aware of Lady de Lohr's whereabouts,” Richard
replied. “As much as we appreciate your hospitality, her husband has come to take
her home.”

     “Is that the reason for this sea of
escorts?” Ralph asked dryly. “Or, mayhap, is there another reason for this show
of force?”

     Richard sighed, tightening his grip on the
reins. “I have come to replace my brother's men with legions of my own, as is
befitting
my
holding. A changing of the guard, as it were.”

     Ralph crossed has arms. “We rather like it
here, sire, and furthermore have no intention of leaving.”

     Richard was finished with the pleasantries,
the foolishness. “Let us cut through the charade, Fitz Walter. Baron de Lohr
wants his wife and I want my holding. Will you turn them both over peaceably?”

     Ralph did not answer for a moment. “I am
afraid that we cannot, sire. We have become quite attached to them.”

     Richard shifted aboard his great destrier.
“We would like Lady de Lohr returned without a fight, please. Surely we can
work toward a pleasant conclusion.”

     Ralph grinned ironically. “Sire, I am sure
our opinions would not match in that case.”

     “Then what is it that you want?” Richard
said impatiently. ''You try my tolerance, man.”

     Ralph took on the look of the hound who had
cornered the fox. Now they would determine just where this confrontation was
going.

     “John wants the holding he has collected,
sire,” he said. “It is a simple enough request considering how many you have.
Surely you can indulge him.”

     “Where is my brother?” Richard said
irritably, tired of dealing with the middle-man.

     “Inside, of course,” Ralph replied.

     “Coward,” Richard muttered, then spoke
loudly to Ralph. “I have no time for you, Fitz Walter. Either give me back my
holding and return Lady de Lohr to her husband, or we will take them both from
you. And I promise that the latter will not be pleasant.”

     Ralph's face took on such a devious smile
that the knights were on their guard. The sheriff turned and motioned to the
open door and bodies began passing through the opening. It took Christopher all
of a split second to see his wife being escorted forward between two burly
mercenaries, one of them pointing a massive crossbow at her rounded belly.

     Marcus heard Christopher whimper low in his
throat but he was too slow to stop the man from bailing off his destrier. The
chargers danced about as they felt their rider’s tense, as they sensed the
change in mood and smelled the fear in the air. Richard did not call
Christopher back for he knew it would be of no use; the man was already halfway
to his wife, his armor clanging in sharp, rhythmic tones as his boots met with
the earth.

     “Stop where you are, de Lohr, or I skewer
your wife.” Ralph said sharply, seeing visions of himself being crushed to
death by the Defender's bare hands.

     Christopher froze, a good twenty feet or so
from Dustin. His heart was breaking into a million little pieces as he gazed
upon his wife. She was quivering with fear, her head lowered and her eyes
closed. He could see how terrified she was and had he any less control, he
would have ripped apart Ralph and the two soldiers holding his wife with his
bare hands. But he steadied himself, not wanting Ralph to have any more of an
advantage than he already had. Jumping from his horse had not been the wisest
move, but he had acted blindly. He only knew he had to get to Dustin, no matter
what. Now that he had a moment to think, he got a grip on himself and stopped
any advancement.

     His eyes were drinking in the sight of his
wife, dressed in flowing white robes with her considerable hair pulled into a
thick braid. She looked so lovely and angelic, so completely fragile, that it
nearly brought tears to his eyes.

     Yet one thing struck him - since she had
appeared, she had yet to look at him. Or any of them, for that matter. His
heart constricted painfully, for he knew that she refused to look at him
because of the hatred she harbored. His selfish actions, his complete ignorance
of her feelings, had been why she had left. Aye, he knew that now, and he could
think of only one way to make restitution to her.

     “Dustin, sweetheart,” he said hoarsely. “I
love you.”

     Her eyes flew open and her head jerked up,
the huge gray eyes he knew so well boring into him like bolts of steel. Her
eyes were swimming with unshed tears, held back by her astonishment.

     “You
do
?” she gasped.

     “Silence!” Ralph snapped.

     Christopher ignored him. “Of course I do,”
he said, longing in his tone. “Dustin, you know that. I love you more than my
life, sweetheart. I always will.”

     “But…,” she sputtered, relief beyond
description filling her. “How can you say that afte…?”

     “I told you to be silent!” Ralph boomed.
“One more word and I take your wife back inside.”

     Christopher wisely held his tongue; he was
so desperate to see his wife that he did as he was told. Tearing his eyes away
from her, he glared icily at Ralph.

      “Let her go or I shall rip out your
testicles with my bare hands,” he rumbled.

     Ralph believed him, but he also knew that
he wouldn’t do anything so long as he held Dustin captive. Christopher wouldn't
make a move with a crossbow aimed at his wife. The sheriff raised a cocky
eyebrow.

     “The mighty Defender,” he said
sarcastically. “All of your skill and strength will not help you now, will it?
It would seem that I hold all of the power now. And I will use it, have no
doubt.”

     “She's of no use to you,” Christopher said
evenly. “Richard is going to take this holding whether or not you hold my
wife.”

     “I think not,” Ralph snorted. “You won't
let him. If so much as an errant dagger flies in my direction, your wife is
instantly impaled. As is the child she carries. I would be doing the world a
service by killing de Lohr's son.”

     Christopher kept his calm outwardly, but
inside he was raging like a wildfire. He looked from Ralph to Dustin again.
“Are you alright, sweet?”

     She nodded unsteadily. “I am fine.”

     He smiled at her, much to Ralph's
displeasure. “I am sorry, sweetheart. For everything. Please forgive me.”

     “De Lohr?” Ralph yelled, moving himself so
that he was in the line of sight between Christopher and his wife. “Mayhap you
do not understand my words? I told you to be silent.”

     Christopher was focused on Ralph. “You will
not take that tone with me, Fitz Walter.”

     “I can do anything I damn well please,”
Ralph retorted. “’Tis I who hold the power…
and
your wife.”

     He did. Christopher forced himself to
acknowledge the fact that Dustin was in serious danger and further forced
himself to realize that he was going to have to deal with Ralph on his own
terms.

     “What is it that you want, then?” he asked
coldly.

     Ralph looked him over as if contemplating
something vile. A sickening smile came to his mouth. “I want to see you kneel,
de Lohr,” he said. “I want to see you kneel before me and beg for your wife's
life. I may be merciful.”

     Dustin heard the words, watching
Christopher's reaction. When Ralph had come for her an hour ago in her rooms,
awakening her from a dead sleep, snatching her with him rapidly, only to keep
her standing in the inner bailey, she had no idea what he intended to do. The
thought of humiliating Christopher publicly never occurred to her, and she was
stricken with the cruelty. She could handle anything he dealt her, but she was
consumed with protectiveness for her husband.