The Fallen One (15 page)

    
Mathias
listened to her, the sweet lilt of her voice, and knew he could listen to her
speak forever. “Your little sister,” he ventured. “If it is not too bold to
ask, what is her affliction? You said she was unwell.”

    
Cathlina
sobered as she picked at her bread.
 
“It
started a little over a year ago,” she said. “Abbie was perfectly healthy and
then she developed a cough she could not get rid of.
 
She began coughing up blood and had pain in
her chest. She lost a good deal of weight and her skin turned such an odd gray
color.
 
The physics have all told us that
there is something wrong with her lungs. They think it is a cancer of some kind
and there is nothing they can do for her.
 
She spends days and weeks in bed taking
potions that the physics make for her, but every day she seems to weaken more
and more.”

    
Mathias
had stopped chewing, listening to her tragic story. “I am truly sorry for you,”
he said quietly. “I wish there was some way to help her.”

    
Cathlina
smiled sadly. “As do I,” she said. “We try to pretend that nothing is wrong. We
go on with our days and treat her as we have always treated her because she
does not want to feel different.”

    
“Does
she know she is very ill?”

    
Cathlina
nodded. “She knows,” she said softly. “She uses it to her advantage; she has
coerced my father into buying her a white pony, a goat, and three puppies.
 
She has an entire menagerie of pets.”

    
She
was giggling as she said it, perhaps trying to deflect her own horrific
sadness, and he grinned because she was.
 
It was evident that she was greatly distressed by it but didn’t want to
give into the anguish, not just yet. That would come soon enough.
 
Mathias shoved the remainder of the meal into
his mouth and chewed.

 
   
“She is a very fortunate lass to have you as
her sister,” he said, gazing at her with some admiration. “I saw you try to
fight off her abductor. You are exceptionally brave.”

    
Cathlina
shrugged modestly. “I was terrified out of my mind,” she admitted. “I did not
realize what I was doing. All I knew was that I could not let the man take
her.”

    
“It
was your bravery that saved her.”

    
She
grinned, embarrassed, not knowing what to say to him.
 
She wasn’t used to having praise heaped upon her,
but he did it quite freely and she wasn’t hard pressed to admit she liked it.
It made her feel very special. She put a bite of mutton in her mouth and chewed
daintily.

    
“Do
you know who you compete against in the next round?” she asked.

    
He
shook his head, brushing off his hands on his boots. “Nay,” he replied. “They
will not draw lots until this round is complete.”

    
“Have
you competed in many tournaments?”

    
“Many,
indeed.”

    
“Here
you are!” Came an unfamiliar voice into the conversation.
 
“I have been looking everywhere for you.”

    
Mathias
and Cathlina turned to see Sebastian walking up on them.
 
The man’s skull cap was removed and his long,
curly red hair flowed freely to his shoulders, dusting the top of the frayed
and stained peasant’s tunic he was wearing.
 
Mathias stood up as he brother approached.

    
“Sebastian,”
he greeted, indicating Cathlina. “You remember Lady Cathlina.”

    
Sebastian
looked down at the perfectly beautiful woman seated on the stone steps with the
trencher on her lap. He nodded his head in her direction. “Of course I do,” he
said. “She makes wonderful cakes.”

    
Cathlina
grinned as she set the trencher aside, her sweet face upturned. “I am glad you
enjoyed them,” she said. “It was the least I could do for your assistance.”

    
Sebastian
could see, in that instant, what had his brother so smitten. He hadn’t had much
opportunity to speak with her since their introduction and he could see that she
was indeed a lovely and well-spoken young woman.
  
If she had Mathias’ attention, then she must
be something special, indeed.

    
“It
was our pleasure,” he said as a twinkle came to his green eyes. “In fact, I
still have the brute in stocks back behind the stall. I can give you a stick
and you can beat him if you wish.”

    
Cathlina
giggled. “As righteous as that sounds, I am afraid I must decline. I will leave
the beatings to you.”

    
“Are
you sure?”

    
“I
am sure.”

    
Sebastian
was grinning because she was.
 
She had a
charming little manner about her. His gaze lingered on her a moment longer
before turning his attention to his brother.

    
“The
pole you smashed on de Lara is not repairable,” he told him. “Unless I can find
another length of wood, we will have to use the remaining two and hope those do
not shatter.”

    
Mathias
scratched his forehead in resignation. “I suppose that was to be expected,” he
said. “How is de Lara?”

    
Sebastian
shrugged. “St. Hèver said he is well enough,” he replied. “The only reason he
forfeited was because his wife was so upset.
 
He plans to watch the rest of the tournament from the lists.”

    
“Then
I am pleased he is not overly injured,” Mathias replied. “I suppose I should
visit him.
 
I will tell him I heard of
his injury and wanted to see how he fared.”

    
Sebastian
shook his head. “He knows, Mat,” he said, lowering his voice. “Ken said that
Tate knew you were posing as de Lovern.
 
If you go and see the man, do not insult his intelligence.”

    
Mathias
merely lifted an eyebrow in response, not particularly surprised that de Lara
spotted him in disguise.
 
As he was
debating how to handle the situation, he heard a growl behind him.

    
“You
dark bastard… de Reyne, I knew it was you.”

    
Mathias
and Sebastian turned to see the big bald knight that St. Hèver had defeated in
his first round of the joust standing several feet away.
 
Quinton de Gare had two other men with him,
swarthy warriors that were as dark as they were dirty, and they were all quite
focused on Mathias and his brother.

    
Mathias
recognized Quinton; the man had served Mortimer in the ranks of lesser knights,
a fairly dumb and unskilled but extremely strong warrior.
 
There had been times when Mathias had been
forced to render discipline on the man for various infractions, which wasn’t
unusual with the lesser fighters in a large army, but Mathias never thought
there had been any bad blood between them.
 
Honorable men took their punishment or chastising honorably.
 
At least, that was the expectation.

But Quinton’s
tone and words didn’t suggest honor or respect. Instinctively, Mathias moved
away from Cathlina, who was still sitting on the steps with her half-eaten meal
in her hands.
 
He didn’t want any
hostilities aimed at her.

“De Gare,” he
said evenly. “I saw that you were competing in the tournament.”

Quinton
snorted rudely. “Competed and lost,” he said, agitated. “What are you doing
here? I heard the king locked you up in the Tower.”

“He did not,”
Mathias said.
 
He didn’t want to engage
the man in any level of conversation so he moved to the point. “Is there
something I can do for you?”

De Gare
grunted, looking between him and Sebastian.
 
His focus lingered on Mathias’ brother. “Sebastian the Red,” he
muttered. “I had heard you were dead.”

Sebastian was
tensed, ready for a fight. That was simply the way his mind worked. “Not yet,”
he replied.

De Gare’s
attention lingered on the brothers; there was something raw and condescending
in his expression, like a man who doesn’t know when to keep his mouth
shut.
 
Everything he was thinking was
written on his face or preparing to lash out on his tongue.

“You were so
high and mighty,” he rumbled. “The both of you thought you ruled England along
with Mortimer. Now you’re in the gutters like the rest of us.”

Mathias
didn’t respond; he simply turned away, heading for Cathlina so he could escort
her away.
 
Sebastian stood there and
postured angrily, his fists working, but he too was smart enough to turn away
from whatever de Gare was attempting to stir up.
 
Unfortunately, de Gare chose to follow them as
they walked away.

“You are
scum, de Reyne,” he said, listening to his friends titter. “You thought you
were so much better than I was. But you are scum, do you hear?”

Mathias had
Cathlina by the elbow, quietly leading her away while she looked up at him with
frightened eyes.
 
She didn’t like the
big, scary beast of a knight following them but it occurred to her who he was.
She had seen St. Hèver soundly beat him in the joust.
 
She also saw that he had a pitcher in one
hand, presumably alcohol of some kind. He was well on his way to being quite drunk.

“Have you
nothing to say to me, de Reyne?” de Gare continued to follow. “You know that
everything I have said is true. You are scum and you live in the gutters like
the lowliest rubbish. Does your woman know what trash you are?”

Sebastian
grunted, fairly aching to throw a punch, but Mathias called him off with a
shake of the head. He didn’t want any fighting near Cathlina.

“Dirty,
filthy, rotten whoreskin,” de Gare snarled. “You are a pig, de Reyne. Where is
your mighty army now? Where are your weapons? You live like an animal!”

Cathlina, in
between Mathias and Sebastian, turned to the red-headed brother. “I will take
that stick, now,” she said softly.

Sebastian
cocked an eyebrow at her; he wasn’t sure if she was serious or not.
 
As he shook his head faintly, Cathlina’s dark
eyes bore into him.

“A stick,
Sebastian,” she said again. “You will give me a stick.”

Sebastian
looked rather fearful, glancing at his brother as he spoke. “I will not.”

“De Reyne!”
de Gare boomed. “Turn around and face me, you filth. For the punishment and
humiliation you dealt me when we served Mortimer, I intend to extract justice
from your hide. Turn around, I say!”

Cathlina had
enough. She was furious and hurt on Mathias’ behalf to the point of irrational
behavior. She was very protective over those she loved… those she loved.
 
Of
course
! She thought.
I must love
Mathias ‘else I would not want to kill for him
.
 
He had saved her life, once. Now it was time
to return the favor.

As they moved
down the avenue, they passed a metalworker’s shop.
 
The man had all manner of iron crosses, small
shovels, fire implements, and the like on display.
 
Yanking her arm from Mathias’ steady grasp,
she rushed to the display of iron instruments and grabbed the first thing she
came to, which happened to be a very sharp fire poker.
 
Before Mathias or Sebastian could stop her,
for they didn’t realize what her intentions were until it was too late,
Cathlina rushed at de Gare and his contemptible companions.
 
She swung the poker at de Gare’s head,
catching him in the face.
 
As he fell
back, she swung it again and caught him in the chest. Blood seeped out from two
wounds.

“You are a
vile and horrible man,” she hissed. “How dare you speak to him in such a
manner.
 
You are a worthless excuse for a
knight and only feeling sorry for yourself because St. Hèver soundly beat you
in the joust.
 
Go back to whatever hole
you crawled out of and I shall not see your face again for if I do, I shall
tell the Earl of Carlisle and have him deal with you. Is that what you want? A fight
with a man who can destroy you with a flick of his hand? Go away from me, you
beast. Go away before I kill you!”

It was a
shocking and extraordinarily brave action.
 
Mathias and Sebastian rushed up, standing on either side of her and
fully prepared to deal de Gare and his companions a heavy beating if they so
much as moved in Cathlina’s direction.
 
But de Gare, with a bloody gash on his cheek and the pitcher of spilled
ale across his legs, looked up at Cathlina with shock first and then rage.