Rise of the Defender (19 page)

     He stood in the middle of the bailey
surrounded by his knights, waiting in silence. The riding party had been
spotted from the east as it rounded the crest of the gentle hill leading into the
small village, and would take time before they entered the gates. Time enough
for him to reflect on his personal mission from Richard, on the answers he
would give Fitz Walter.

     When the party finally entered the gates,
there were several gaily dressed men on colorful horses, surrounding a particularly
down-dressed man in mail and black. The rest of the rather large group were
soldiers of the prince, and Christopher ordered them kept outside the gates.

     There was tension in the air as the man in
mail and black dismounted his destrier and approached Christopher slowly,
removing his gauntlets as he walked.  His face was dark, his hair dirty and
long. He was ugly and sinister-looking as he smiled thinly at Christopher.

     “This is your gift from Richard?” he
glanced about the keep. “Impressive. A most fitting gift for our king’s
Defender of the Realm.”

     Christopher s face was unreadable. “What do
you want, Fitz Walter?”

     “Not much for greetings, are you?” the man
responded. “The heat of the Holy Land must have evaporated your manners.” When
Christopher didn't answer, he continued on. “I come from our glorious prince,
de Lohr. He is requesting your presence in London. You came and left so quickly
we scarce had a chance to enjoy your illustrious person.”

     “Surely John has enough fools to keep him
entertained,” he said coolly. “What does he want of me?”

     “Your beautiful face, your commanding
presence, who can say?” Fitz Walter gestured with his hands. “I have been sent
to retrieve you personally.”

     Christopher crossed his arms over his broad
chest. “I am busy. Tell John I will join him when time allows.”

     The tolerant look faded from Fitz Walter's
face. “Your company is not a request, de Lohr, it is a command by order of our
magnificent prince. He would not be happy to learn that you disobeyed his
wishes.”

     Christopher gazed back at Ralph Fitz
Walter, confidante and right hand to Prince John. The man’s soul ran as black as
his hair.

     “I take my orders directly from King
Richard, not the prince,” he said evenly. “As Defender of the Realm, I am
answerable to Richard alone. John has no power over me, of which I am sure he
is immensely displeased. I am the one man in this country who does not have to
obey him, and the crown’s troops in England are mine to command. You see,
Ralph, I was there when Richard drafted the missive to his brother that I
delivered to him from the Holy Land. I know exactly what it says and exactly
what my sworn duties are.” He took a step toward Fitz Walter and lowered his
voice. “I am the strong arm of Richard now that I am returned and I am sure
that Prince John is furious at that fact. But it is of no concern to me. He
cannot order me about as he does the rest of you idiots.”

     Ralph’s face was dark and angry. “My orders
come from the prince himself, de Lohr,” he growled, then glanced at the troops
waiting outside the gate. “I shall drag you back if necessary.”

     Besides Christopher, David flinched and his
brother put out a calming hand. Fitz Walter looked at David, his lips peeling
back in a sneer.

     “Ah, the little lion cub,” he said mockingly.
“You would be brave and defend your big brother, wouldn't you?”

     Christopher took another step toward Ralph,
at least a head taller than the dark man. “I was, in fact, planning on
returning to London,” he said in a low voice. “But I will not be seen with you.
I want you out of my keep, and out of my sight, or I will gut you.”

     Ralph gave him a weak smile. “For what?” His
eyes suddenly moved beyond Christopher as if something had caught his attention,
and a gleam came to his eye. “Oh, my,” he breathed seductively. “Is that Arthur
Barringdon’s daughter?”

     Christopher didn’t know she was standing at
the keep entry and he swung around rapidly to see that his wife was indeed
standing at the top of the steps. David, Leeton and Edward saw his nostrils
flare and his jaw tick as he turned back to Fitz Walter.

     “Get out of here, Ralph,” he growled. “I
will not tell you again.”

     Ralph's eyes lit up with amusement, however
dangerous. “Oh, de Lohr, you must bring her with you. John will be most pleased
to see such a prize.” He stepped sideways, as to better leer at Dustin. “Fine,
indeed. A tasty piece of flesh. Had I known about her, I would have taken her for
myself while you were still in Jerusalem.”

     Christopher’s jaw was ticking so furiously
that he was about to break teeth. Angry would not have been an apt word to
describe his emotions at the moment.

     “That is my wife, Lady Dustin de Lohr, and
you will never again use those terms to describe her,” he said in a controlled
tone. “Now, remount your steed and get the hell out of my keep.”

     “But I only just arrived,” Ralph pressed.
“Surely you will invite me in to your new keep to meet your wife?”

     Christopher stared at him but he wasn’t
going to tell the man to leave again. His next move would be to enforce his
command at knife point.  David, however, stepped forward.

     “You have been told to leave,” he rumbled.
“Get out before I embarrass you in front of your men.”

     Undaunted, yet smart enough to realize that
Christopher was sensitive where his wife was concerned, Ralph gave them all a slight
bow and meandered back to his horse. Yet he would keep that bit of information
tucked into his mind, for he was sure John would be interested in it. There was
more than one way to control a seemingly uncontrollable man. Christopher
watched Ralph mount his big warhorse and rein the animal about roughly.

     “I give you one week, baron,” he said
loudly, more for the benefit of his men so they would not know that the baron
had gotten the better of him. “One week to see you in London or I come back for
you.”

     Christopher turned away, ordering the gates
closed. Dustin, seeing that he was heading straight for her, bolted back inside
the castle and raced madly for her rooms, desperately afraid he was going to
spank her again. It was foolish to run from him, she knew, for he would only
catch up to her, but she ran anyway. She was terrified.

     She waited in her rooms for him to come.
And waited. She sat tensely on her bed for nearly an hour before she heard a
soft knock on her door. Jumpy as a cat, she shot up off the bed and bade
whoever it was to enter.

     Christopher's blond head appeared and he
actually smiled at her. Dustin’s eyes widened, off-balance and bewildered that
he was smiling. He had a devastating smile when he wanted to, enough to make
her knees go weak.

     “I have a few moments to spare, my lady,
and thought you might enjoy a trip into town,” he said.

     “For what?” she blurted, still waiting for
him to come charging across the room and put her over his knees again.

     “To take the material to Mistress Rebecca,
of course,” he stepped into the room. “My wife must be well-clothed at court.”

     She looked at him for a few long moments as
his words sunk in. Then, her gray eyes widened. “I am going to court?”

     “Aye,” he nodded. “Actually,
we
are
going to court. It seems that Prince John would have me there.”

     “And you are taking me with you?” she could
scarcely believe what she was hearing.

     “Of course,” he said. “I would not leave
you here.”

     She was speechless. Never in her wildest dreams
did she ever imagine that she would go to London. Her life was simple and uncomplicated,
and she never entertained dreams of rich courtly life. But now, with the impending
prospect as the result of her marriage to a powerful baron, she found she was verily
excited.

     “Truly?” she grinned, her big eyes on him
to see if he were teasing her.

     He nodded, returning her smile. It was
beautiful, bright and infectious. She clapped her hands together gleefully. “I
have never been to London,” she exclaimed. “What is it like?”

     He feigned a thoughtful expression. “Full
of greed, deceit, lust, and gluttony. It is a delightful place.”

     She laughed at him, her fear from moments
earlier forgotten. Now, she was thrilled with the turn her future had taken.

     “London.” she turned away from him happily.
Suddenly, her eyes fell on Caesar, sleeping lazily in the window bench, and she
sobered. “But what of Caesar? Can he come, too?”

     Christopher stepped up behind her, eyeing
the cat. “That may not be wise, Dustin,” he said honestly. “It will be a
difficult journey for him, and he may run off. Cats like to stay where they are
familiar.”

     She went over and petted the cat. “But I
cannot leave him,” she said mournfully, her mood increasingly sad. “Who will
take care of him? And what of my rabbits?”

     “Rabbits? What rabbits?” he asked.

     “I have several pet rabbits I keep by the
kitchens,” she insisted. “What will happen to them?”

     Christopher looked thoughtful, catching
himself before he suggested that they could eat them. Even in jest, the
recommendation would not sit well with her.

     “The cat can take care of himself, I am
sure.” Christopher, not wanting to spoil the mood, took her hand away from the
animal and enclosed it in his big, warm palm. “As for the rabbits, surely there
is a child or servant who can tend them. Come along, now. Let us take the
fabrics to your friend.”

     She let him hold her hand. She didn't know
why she was letting him.  Any other man who had ever tried to hold her hand had
come away with a black eye. But she allowed him to lead her over to the other
side of her bed where bundles of material were stacked. He let go of her hand
and picked all the packages up himself.

     As she watched him, she was struck again with
how handsome he truly was. When she had been standing out on the landing, listening
to him talk with the prince’s man, he had been so controlled and powerful that
her heart had swelled strangely. That strange, warm giddy feeling she was
coming to associate with him. Knowing that he was her husband filled her with a
sense of pride she had never known before. Even if he had spanked her, she
found she wasn’t angry with him anymore.  If she were to admit it, she deserved
it.

     “Who was that man in the bailey?” she asked
as she went to the door.

     Christopher followed, the bundles in his
arms. “His name is Sir Ralph Fitz Walter. He is Prince John’s marshal.

     He said it with some disgust, enough to
cause her to look at him. “You do not like him,” she observed.

     “No one likes him,” he replied, balancing
the load as she opened the door. “The man is a snake.”

     Dustin watched him as he passed through
archway. “He called you by a title,” she said thoughtfully. “What was it?”

     “Baron?” he said.

     “Nay, something else,” she replied. “All I
could hear was the word ‘Defender.’ What did he call you?”

     They made their way to the narrow spiral
stairs and he descended them with some effort, squeezing his bulk down the
shaft. He waited until they had exited the front door of the castle before answering
her.

     “Defender of the Realm,” he said.

     “What is that?” she asked.

     “It means that while Richard is away, I am
his strength at home,” he said. “I answer only to him.”

     She looked surprised. “You do not even take
orders from Prince John?”

     He shook his head. “Nay, only Richard,” he
replied. “His troops are mine to command. Prince John may only use their
strength if he gains my permission.”

     Dustin was stunned. Christopher de Lohr,
her husband, was the king’s champion, Defender of the Realm. King Richard, of
all England. Why hadn’t she known this? Her mind was reeling with the enormity
and surprise of it all and she almost tripped on the front steps. He cautioned
her and she found she could not take her eyes from him. She had heard the dark
man call him by the title, yet because she was so fearful for her own hide that
it had made no impact on her. She felt the impact fully now.

     “You have so much power?” she managed to ask,
totally in awe.

     He glanced down at her. “Why are you
looking at me like that?”

     Her mouth opened. “Because you are the
Defender of the Realm and I did not even know it.”

     He shrugged, whistling to a soldier for his
destrier to be brought around. Her mouth still hanging open, she walked around
so she could look him in the face.

     “Is there any other titles I should know
about?” she asked, half-irritated. “Mayhap, did God himself grant you a title
you have failed to tell me of?”

     He raised an eyebrow. “Not that I am aware
of,” he told her. “And I have no other titles. Except for one, which really
isn’t a title, simply a nickname.”