The Dark One: Dark Knight (110 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

     Taran was built for stamina, thankfully,
but even he needed rest. Gaston could have ridden all the way to Mt. Holyoak, were
it not for his horse.

     It was after nightfall when he stopped
outside of the small town of Rothersthorpe to water and rest his horse. Just
south of Northampton, he guessed that Guy and Remington were all the way to
Leicester by now, possibly even nearing Sheffield. He had tried so hard to keep
from focusing on the horrors of the situation that he was mentally exhausted.

     He sat by the small stream in the light of
the moon, listening to his horse slurp fresh water.

     Why did this have to happen? Was it God's
punishment for betraying Richard, an evil man at that, but nonetheless Gaston
had betrayed him. Was it punishment for the men he had killed, the battles he
had won, the women he had widowed or the orphans he had made?

     All of his life he had been a loner, the
consummate warrior, pure knightly perfection. He had no flaws. But he had one
weakness -    Remington Stoneley. Dear God, how he loved her.

     Suddenly, his head came up. He had left a
skeleton crew at Mt. Holyoak, men faithful to him. Guy did not know this; at
least, he hoped he did not. He could imagine Guy riding through the gates of
Mt. Holyoak and Remington sounding the alarm, only to have Guy swarmed with his
soldiers and dismembered.

     He wondered if Remington would see through
her fear long enough to remember that it was Gaston's men who staffed Mt.
Holyoak, for he could only imagine how terrified she was. It was enough to make
him boil with anger all over again.

     The urge to reach Mt. Holyoak pushed at him
as never before.

***

     “If you were going to steal a horse, why
did not you steal a fast one?” Trenton demanded, shifting his bottom on the
animal's boney rear.

     “At least I got us a horse. You would have
us walking,” Dane shot back, steering the nag along the road. “And this horse
could go faster, only you complain every time we move faster than a walk.”

     “That's because he trots too hard,” Trenton
said.  “His backbone digs into my arse and it hurts.”

     Dane pursed his lips irritably. “Get down
and run beside him, then. I am sick of listening to you complain.”

     Trenton bailed off the animal and Dane
gored the old nag into a trot. As ordered, Trenton ran alongside easily.

     “We shall make time now.” Dane insisted.
“We're closing in on Northamptonshire.”

     “In two or three hours.” Trenton puffed. “We
have a long way to go yet.”

     “Then run faster.” Dane yelled back,
spurring the horse into a canter and leaving his friend in the dust.

     Trenton staggered to a halt, knowing he
couldn't keep pace with a running horse. But Dane did not stop and Trenton had
visions of being left behind to fend for himself. The boney rump of the animal
suddenly looked very appealing.

     “Hey – wait!” he yelled.

     Trenton ran almost as fast as the horse,
making up for lost ground.

***

As night fell, Guy
declared his want for a hot meal. In the next town of Stanford-on-Avon,
Gutter's Inn, a rousing establishment near the banks of the river Avon, seemed
to beckon the loudest to Guy, and he drew the destrier alongside a hitching
post.

     This time, he helped Remington from the
animal and proceeded to secure the beast.

     “Have you any money?” he asked.

     She shook her head, gaze averted. The blow
he had landed her this afternoon had left a sharp bruise on her cheek and she
was deeply ashamed. He raised an eyebrow.

     “Then we shall have to go about getting
some,” he said, glancing about. His gaze drifted back to her. “You are a whore.
Do what you do and get me some money.”

     Her eyes snapped up to him to see if he was
sickly jesting. From his expression, she could see that he was entirely serious.

     “Oh, Guy... no. You cannot be sincere.”

     His jaw twitched and she flinched, waiting
for the blow to come. But Guy showed a remarkable amount of restraint and
controlled himself; it would be difficult enough to find a customer with the
bruise she was already sporting.

     “Come on,” he jerked her by the arm and led
her into the warm establishment.

     The interior was cloying and stank of ale
and bodies, the loud roar of knights and men filling the common room. Wenches
abound, doling out food and drink. In the corner, two minstrels sang and played
a lute, trying desperately to be heard above the commotion.

     Guy gripped her tightly as he guided her
inside, his ice-blue eyes alert for a well-dressed traveler or knight. It did
not bother him in the least that he was to offer his wife's services; he was
simply interested in eating.

     The inn was jammed with men. Guy took
Remington well into the room and pushed her into an empty chair, next to the
garderobe.

     “Wait here,” he growled. “If you so much as
move an inch, I shall kill you.”

     He was serious and she knew it.

     Guy moved into the room, searching for the
correct customer. Remington was so horrified that she couldn't watch; she kept
her head down, staring at her hands. She felt completely helpless and sickened;
Gaston surely would not want her returned after he learned what Guy had done to
her. Had she a dagger, she would have turned it on herself.

     She knew she should at least try to escape
him, but she had nowhere to go. She did not even know what town they were in,
for she had not asked. And, surely, what citizen would not return an errant
wife to her irate husband? She couldn't be sure that anyone would help her,
even if she did manage to escape.

     She sat there for a long time, unaware of
the conversation her husband was having with a large, well-dressed knight. The
knight had not been interested at first until he glanced over and saw
Remington's lowered head. After a moment of hesitation, he paid Stoneley
several coins and retreated up the stairs.

     Guy moved back to Remington.

     “Get up,” he hissed. “A knight has paid a
good deal for your services and you will not disappoint him. Do you hear me? If
he tells me that your wares were substandard, I shall take it out on your
hide.”

     Remington fought off the tears of shame, or
horror, nodding once. Guy grabbed her by the arm, his fingers digging into her
soft flesh, and escorted her to the base of the stairs. “The second door to
your right. Get.”

     He shoved her and she almost stumbled on
the bottom step. Catching herself, she slowly mounted the stairs, the rumble of
the common room fading as she proceeded down the hall.

     She was shaking so badly that she could
barely knock on the designated door. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught
sight of a window at the end of the hall. God, how easy it would be to throw
herself from the window and be done with all of this pain and humiliation. She
wished she had the courage, but she did not.

     Her fisted hand froze an inch in front of
the door, the tears she had fought so valiantly against taking hold. But she
wiped them away, knowing she had no choice and praying to the God she did not
believe in that Gaston would understand.

     The open window was looking more and more
appealing.

     She never got a chance to make her
decision. The door in front of her flew open and a large body was suddenly in
front of her. Before she could move, a hand reached out and snatched her into
the room.

     Gasping with shock and surprise, Remington
heard the door bolt behind her and she swung around to face the knight, volumes
of panic welling within her. A handsome blond man gazed back at her with
concern, and he was oddly familiar.

     Remington's panic banked somewhat, but she
was still filled with trepidation. The knight remained where he stood, highly
cognizant of her fear.

     “You do not remember me, do you?” he asked
gently.

     Remington did not realize that her hands
were up in front of her protectively. Slowly, the hands came down. “You…you do
look familiar. Do I know you?”

     We have met,” he said softly. “I am Sir
Hubert Doyle, my lady.  We have met on two occasions.”

     Her eyes widened. “Sir Hubert of Ripley?
And we met in Ripon, as well. I remember.”

     He smiled, a gentle smile. “Good. Then, my
lady, would you mind telling me what is going on? Who is this man selling
your...services?”

     Her knees went to liquid and he caught her
before she fell, lowering her carefully into the nearest chair. Between great
gulps of wine, she told him everything.

     Hubert was shocked. He stared at her in
open astonishment, running his fingers through his hair in a gesture that
reminded her of Gaston. His soft gray eyes were filled with pity and, she
thought, anger.

     Leaving her to finish her third goblet of
wine in peace, he rose on his long legs and paced the room soundlessly. Every
so often he would break from his train of thought, looking over at her
quivering head.

     “Did he do that to your face?” he asked.

     Her fingers flitted to her bruised cheek.
“Aye.”

     “Has he harmed you in any other way?”

     She looked up at him, opening her mouth to
speak, but sobs bubbled forth instead. Hubert went to her, timidly patting her
shoulder. “I am sorry, I shouldn't have asked.”

     She continued to cry. “You paid….a good
deal of money for me. Do you intend...?”

     He cut her off. “Absolutely not. The moment
I saw you, I recognized you. I paid what your husband was asking simply to
prevent another man from taking advantage of Sir Gaston's...woman. My God, this
is confusing, isn't it?”

     A choked laugh sputtered forth among the
tears. “Aye, it is.”

     He crouched beside her, smiling faintly.
She met his gaze, wiping at her eyes and he patted her hand. “I am taking you
out of here, away from him.”

     Her eyes widened. “You are? How? Where will
we go?”

     He was already standing, gathering his
necessary things. Remington watched apprehensively as he strapped on his sword
and stashed two daggers in unobtrusive places. He was a big man, quick and
agile, with a handsome face and gentle manner.

     Suddenly, he moved to the door and unbolted
it. Remington jumped, startled, as he bellowed for a servant. When a girl came
running, he shoved five gold pieces into her palm.

     “Find Lord Stoneley downstairs,” he
commanded. “Tell him I am retaining the lady's services for the night. And
furthermore tell him not to disturb us until morning. Is that clear?”

     The wench nodded and Hubert gave her a coin
for her trouble. When she dashed off, he slammed the door and bolted it again.

     “There,” he said softly. “That ought to
take care of that bast... your husband. Now, to get us both out of here
unnoticed.”

     She nodded shakily, rising to unsteady
feet. He looked at her a moment. “When did you last eat?”

     She thought a moment. “Yesterday, in
London, I suppose.”

     He moved to a table by the hearth and
collected a few bits of food. Into her hands he deposited an apple and a large
chunk of bread. “You can eat this on the way,” he told her with an encouraging
wink.

     Grateful, she took a healthy bite of the
bread as Hubert secured a huge black cloak about his shoulders. She watched him
a moment, dazed at her turn of luck. In fact, the past two days had left her
reeling and unbalanced so that she hardly knew her own name anymore.

     “Sir Hubert,” she said softly. “How is it
that you happen to be at this inn?”

     “I was returning from Daventry on business
for Lord Ingilsby,” he replied, donning his helm. Then he smiled. “It would
seem that God was listening to your prayers this day, my lady. I almost did not
stop at this place, but all of the other inns were full.”

     God had been listening to her, indeed. She
smiled timidly. “You know, I have never really believed in God. I only believed
in the devil because I was married to him.”

     Hubert's own smile faded somewhat. “From
what I have seen this night, I certainly believe that. But have no fear, my
lady. I will protect you with my life.”

     Remington sighed with relief. It was almost
enough to start her weeping again.
Thank you, God.

     She finished the bread and started on the
apple. Just as Hubert was moving for the door, there came a sharp rap and he
unbolted it swiftly.