The Whispering Night (26 page)

“My thanks,” Garren
said. “But in case there are, make no provocative move. Return to the castle
immediately and I shall decide a course of action.”

David nodded his dark
head. “We’ll defend you, have no doubt.”

“I don’t.  Your loyalty
is appreciated.”

David didn’t say any
more. He was uncomfortable saying what he had, afraid he’d sounded like a fool.
Offa slapped his nephew on the shoulder.  “You needn’t worry, my lady. Even if
they make it to the castle, we know many places to hide and avenues of escape.
They’ll never get you.”

Derica smiled in thanks.
“I hope we’re not too much of a burden.”

“Not at all. David and I
crave the excitement.”

“But your life was so
quiet before we came.”

Offa snorted. “It was
dull. At least now we have something to look forward to.”

“A battle?”

The old man’s eyes lit
up, memories of glory from long ago filling his mind. “Indeed. Fine adventures
of bloody battles!”

Derica looked at her
husband and they smiled at each other. After a few more moments of languishing
before the fire, she forced herself to stand. “I believe I shall go to bed.”
She stretched her shapely body. “Good eve to you, my lords.”

The men responded
politely. David stole a quick glance but just as quickly turned away. Garren
excused himself and followed his wife up the narrow steps the led into the
minstrel’s gallery above the hall.  He’d fashioned a large screen out of wood
and rushes, hiding them from the view down below.  A pallet of more rushes and
bedding from Emyl’s humble home lay upon the floor, comfortable enough for the
two of them.  Garren felt bad that he had nothing to offer her other than
borrowed goods and the bare minimum of comfort. She deserved so much more. As
his wife lay down, he tucked the worn coverlets in around her.

“Someday, we’ll have a
massive castle and the finest bedding money can buy,” he said softly. “You will
only touch satins and silks, I swear it.”

She smiled. “I have had
that. It matters naught if you are not with me to share it.”

“So you prefer rushes
that scratch and poke?”

“As long as they scratch
and poke you, too.”

He sat there a moment,
gazing down at her, torn between tremendous joy and tremendous sorrow.  He
could not delay the inevitable; the longer he put it off, the harder it would
be.

It was quiet in the
gallery. He tucked the covers in tighter around her, trying to think of the
correct words, when she interrupted his thoughts.

“I have something to
tell you,” she said softly.

“You do? What?”

“You’re going to be
leaving soon.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “I
am?”

“Aye,” she nodded. “You
must attend William Marshall. He needs to know all that has gone on at
Framlingham during the past few weeks.”

“Hmmm,” he looked at her
with interest. “You are correct, madam. The security of this country is at
stake. When must I leave?”

“I would think
tomorrow,” she said as if issuing orders. “The sooner you leave, the sooner you
return.”

He nodded, a warm
twinkle in his eye. “I cannot tell you how much is pains me that I must go
alone. I wish I could take you with me.”

“I am safe here,” Derica
was trying to be brave. “I have Emyl and Offa and David to protect me.”

An eyebrow lifted. “Mind
that David keeps a respectful distance. I would hate to have to kill him.”

“David is afraid of me.
I swear that if I winked at him, he’d faint.”

“I have spent my life
being suspicious of the motives of others. Though he seems harmless enough, I
cannot discount his thoughts should I not be here as a thwarting presence.”

“I am my own thwarting
presence. I have thwarted many an amorous suitor in my time.”

He grinned. “But not
me.”

She returned his smile.
“Nay, not you. You were the only man who lowered himself from the roof into my
boudoir. With such dedication, how could I discourage you?”

His smile faded as he
gazed into her eyes. “Christ, I am going to miss you. I am so sorry that I must
leave, even for a short time.”

The longing in his voice
squeezed her heart, making it difficult to be brave. “How long do you think you
shall be away?”

He ran a finger down her
cheek, onto her shoulder. “’Tis difficult to say. Perhaps ten days, perhaps
twenty.”

“Twenty days,” she
breathed. “Why can I not go with you if you are to be away that long?”

“Because I shall travel
much more quickly without you. Furthermore, there are threats on the road I
have no desire to expose you to. Bandits and murderers, to name a few. I would
rather know you were here, safe, waiting impatiently for me to return.”

She knew he was right,
but that didn’t help the tugging in her chest. When he pulled her up and took
her in his arms, it only increased the ache. Derica held him tightly, afraid to
let him go.

“Promise you will
return,” she whispered.

His fingers were in her
hair, his mouth against her forehead. “I swear it.”

She kissed him once,
twice. “Do you realize that since we were reunited at the abbey, we have never
been apart? It will be strange not waking up to you every morning. It has
become a part of me, like breathing.”

“I know,” he said. “But
after this temporary separation, I shall never leave you again. Ever.”

She was quiet a moment.
“But what if William Marshall insists you continue in his service?”

“I have been in his
service for many years. I have dedicated my entire life to the king. It is time
that I dedicate myself to my own life now and he will have to understand that.”

“What if he doesn’t’?”

“He has no choice.”

She sighed, hearing his
determination. But she also knew that he had a strong sense of duty to Richard.
A man who would chose to be a spy for the king would have nothing else. She
wondered if his love for her would outweigh his sense of duty if he were
pressured to make a choice.

“Whatever happens, my
love,” she ran her fingers through his hair. “This night belongs to us.”

He couldn’t think of a
reply other than to make love to her.

***

The next morning dawned
dismal.  Rain was coming down in sheets, creating a blurry white landscape.
Emyl had loaded Garren’s charger and had it waiting outside the outer wall.
Both bridges were still in a state of disrepair and the horse could not be
brought any closer.

A fire burned in the
crumbling hearth in the great hall, sending smoke to the ceiling and escaping
from gaps in the roof.  Garren and Derica had eaten a cozy meal near the fire,
greedily soaking up the last few moments they would have together until he returned. 
They kept the conversation positive, talking of trivial things, unwilling to
face the fact that time was drawing short.

Derica was in control of
her emotions until Emyl came with Garren’s armor and began helping him dress.
She sat atop the old table, huddled in the woolens that the nuns had given her
as she watched her husband transform from a strong, sweet man into a terrifying
vision of a knight. She well remembered the first time she ever saw him, in her
father’s solar. Although he had worn his armor, he had not been allowed his
weapons inside the castle; even so, he had been an impressive sight.  Having
lived in a household full of knights, she had long gotten over being impressed
by a bold man in a steel suit. But watching Garren as he adjusted his
breastplate, she felt giddy and warm as she hadn’t felt in years.

Garren noticed her
watching him and his eyes twinkled. “Why do you look so?”

She blinked at him,
puzzled. “How do I look?”

“Like you are day
dreaming.”

She grinned. “I am, in a
way. Tell me something; why is it that you do not have horns jutting from the
armor on your shoulders? Uncle Hoyt used to.”

He snorted. “Because I
do not need them. Men with spikes on their armor aren’t merely looking to
defend or attack honorably; they are seeking to maim and destroy.”

“Then you say that Uncle
Hoyt is dishonorable?”

“I say nothing of the
sort. I simply mean that he has them because, I would imagine, he derives a
good deal of pleasure at men being terrified by the mere sight of them. ‘Tis a
good intimidation tactic, mentally unsettling an enemy before the battle has
even begun. What sane man would not fear a knight with spikes all over his
armor?”

She thought on that a
moment. “Father’s helm has a horn that comes out of the center of his forehead,
like a Unicorn.”

Garren merely wriggled
his eyebrows, in approval or disapproval she could not tell.  When Emyl
finished struggling with a strap that finally decided to latch, Garren stepped
away and shook himself slightly, like a dog shaking its hide.  The armor
clinked and settled on his big body.

“Your weapon and helm
are with the charger,” Emyl said.

Garren nodded at him,
then looked at his wife. She was smiling at him, but it was forced. Emyl,
sensing the farewell to come, excused himself and left them alone.

The silence was
expectant. Derica struggled to keep the smile on her face. “It is time, I see.”

“Aye,” he agreed. “Will
you walk with me to the door?”

She slipped off the
table and slid her hand into his enormous one. Together, they walked to the
open door where the rain pounded outside.  Derica was about to walk outside but
he held her back.

“Not outside,
sweetheart,” he said. “I shall take my leave of you here, where it is dry.”

She looked at him, those
enormous green eyes bright with emotion.  He smiled at her, memorizing every
last line of her sweet face. He committed it to memory, to keep him warm on the
long cold nights to come.  He ran a delicate finger along her jawline, touching
the honey-colored hair that tickled her face.  He couldn’t discern any other
emotion at the moment other than deep, agonizing longing.

“I hope to make good
time, but this weather is a bit of an obstacle,” he realized he was struggling
to keep his emotions in check. “If all goes well, I should be in Chepstow in
three or four days. I plan to meet with William, explain the situation, and beg
my leave. Hopefully he will be gracious about it, but if not, ‘tis of no
matter. I shall try to make my stay at Chepstow no longer than a day. With
luck, I shall return in a week, mayhap ten days.”

She nodded. “Then we
shall look for you then. What happens if it takes longer? Will you send word?”

He shook his head. “I
don’t dare. I cannot be certain that the de Rosa’s aren’t lingering somewhere
around Chepstow, thinking that perhaps I may take you there. I doubt they would
move on me if you are not at my side. The object is to find you, and if they
kill me, they will eliminate all hope. I cannot take the chance that a
messenger would be followed.”

“And lead them right to
me,” she murmured.

“Exactly.”

She digested that. “They
will try to get you somehow. My father is very clever.”

“I know,” Garren gazed
up at the gray sky. “For that very fact, I wonder if he will not go to Chateroy
to abduct my father.  He may anticipate a hostage-for-hostage exchange.”

“Your father for me?”

“Something like that. I
cannot rule out any possibility.”

Derica fell silent. She
traced the lines of his armor, running her fingers over his breastplate, simply
to keep her hands busy. “Garren, what happens if you do not return?”

He looked at her. “I
swore to you that I would.”

She met his gaze. “But
you cannot guarantee it. Certainly, I am not asking you to because I know that
you cannot. But if you do not return in a month or two or three, what should I
do?”

He sighed, heavily,
realizing she was more willing to face the reality of it than he was. “You’re
not going to like my answer.”

“What is it?”

“Have Emyl take you back
to Framlingham.”

She stiffened. “I will
not.”

He tightened his grip
before she could pull away. “Listen to me, sweetheart.  ‘Tis the safest place
for you, and I want you safe and well-cared for. Your father is after me, not
you. He’ll forgive you should you return. ‘Tis the most logical solution.”

Her brow was furrowed
like an angry child. “I will not go home. There is nothing for me there.
They’ll simply try to marry me off again and won’t have any part of it, do you
hear? I won’t marry ever, again.”

“Then what would you
suggest?”

“That I go to the abbey
with your sister.”

He had to admit that her
answer pleased him, but he was positive that it was because he was being
selfish. “You have a right to be happy in life should I not be at your side. I
want you to be happy. Do you think you would truly be happy in the cloister?”