Rise of the Defender (43 page)

     She turned to look at him, seeing that he
was sincere. “Do you know that you are only the second person to tell me that I
am beautiful? Chris was the first, but I though he said it because….because he
wanted something.”

     Marcus had a good idea what she meant. “He
said it because it is God's truth, and I say it for the same reason. You had
better become accustom to hearing it.”

     They followed the steward into a
cathedral-like foyer and ascended a massive staircase to a second floor. There
were great open-beamed ceilings and plaster walls. After that, Dustin was
completely lost. She knew they traveled down a corridor until they came to a
large oak door, one of several in the length of the hall. The head steward threw
the big iron lock and opened the door.

     Dustin was speechless. The huge antechamber
she had entered into was resplendent with silk curtains and big hides covering
the floor. Finely carved furniture decorated the room and there were two doors,
opposite each other on parallel walls. A fire burned softly in the huge carved
hearth.  The chamber smelled like freshly cut wood and she could see fresh
rushes skirting the perimeter of the room.

     While she was gaping at the room, the army
of servants that had been following her slipped into the room and disappeared
through the door on the far right. They worked efficiently, like ants, and
shortly had her trunks and other small effects brought in. Her maids were
ushered in, as well, and they too disappeared into the door to unpack for their
mistress. Dustin had yet to notice the activity, she was still appraising the
room.

     Marcus lay her cloak on a chair, grinning
at her reaction to the room. “A far cry from Lioncross?”

     She nodded faintly. “Have you ever seen
such luxury, Marcus? We are staying in rooms meant for royalty.”

     “Nay, my lady, you are staying in rooms
meant for the Defender of the King's Realm,” he said. “Christopher is worthy of
such attentions.”

     She shook her head again, moving to the
windows and delighted to notice a garden-like courtyard below. Her awe was
turning into giddy happiness, and she spun away from the window in delight,
relishing in the new-found luxury and space of her chambers.

     “This is wonderful.” she exclaimed. “Are
you going to see Chris now? Can I come?”

     “Aye, I am going to see him now, but you
cannot come,” he replied. “He wants you here, but I am sure as soon as he sees
you have arrived, he will join you. You will not be alone for long.”

     She dutifully nodded, not particularly
disappointed because now she could explore her new home. Marcus left her with a
formal bow, telling her to bolt the door behind him and open it to no one save
someone she knew. When he was gone, she did as she was told and immediately
began to investigate every corner of the pretty antechamber.

RISE
OF THE DEFENDER:  BIRTH OF THE LEGEND

Part
2

***

CHAPTER
ELEVEN

London, England

The Tower of London

     Prince John sat in his silk and oaken
chair, a chair he likened to be the throne of England. His dirty black hair was
stuck to his oily face as he watched Ralph Fitz Walter from across the polished
and well –used table that was one of the centerpieces of his lavish solar at
Windsor Castle. His father had used this table.  To John, it reeked of power. 
He could still see his father, Henry the Second, standing over it, yelling
about something or another. It seemed to him that his father had always been
yelling.

     “She has arrived,” Ralph said with a
leering smile.

     John was distracted from the ghost of his
father. “She? Who?” 

     “Lady Dustin Barringdon de Lohr,” Ralph
enunciated every syllable with relish. “She’s in the baron’s chambers with only
one knight as a guard.”

     John, hit with the news, sat forward in his
chair. “De Lohr’s wife? How damned fortunate for us.”

     “Hmpf,” fortunate indeed, sire,” Ralph
agreed. “I still believe we would have been successful in a kidnap attempt had
you so allowed. She had only twenty-five men-at-arms and three knights as
escort.”

     “Mayhap,” John waved him off. “But de Lohr
was very vague with where she had been, and why she was delayed. I will not
risk men with such scant information. But she is here now and I am pleased.”

     Ralph nodded, scratching the louse that had
just bit him on the back. “Shall I bring her here, sire?”

     John sat back in his chair thoughtfully.
“One knight, did you say? We can get around one knight,” his gaze lingered on
Ralph a moment longer. “Have we heard anything from your spies at Lioncross
Abbey?”

     “Not a word, sire,” Ralph said, a bit
embarrassed. “I have sent out a few good men to follow up with them. It shan't
be long.”

     John nodded slowly, still in thought.
Finally, he took a deep breath. “It is probably of no importance now,
considering de Lohr and his wife are here, “he said “Aye, bring her to me. I
would meet this woman.”

     “And de Lohr?” Ralph wanted to know.

     John shrugged. “What of him? I will tell
him I simply could not wait to meet his wife,” he said. “I won't touch her, at
least not today. So tell me, Ralph - how goes preparations for the tourney in
two days?”

     The subject changed and Ralph went with it.
“Nearly complete, my lord,” he said. “The lists have been built and the banners
are being raised as we speak. It should be a grand spectacle. Oh, and sire,
another thing - Marcus Burton was one of the knights who escorted Lady de Lohr
to London. 'Tis said he serves de Lohr now.”

     “Burton?” John looked surprised.
“Damnation, I didn't even know he was returned. Serving de Lohr, did you say?”

     Ralph watched John's face twist with
frustration, but the man turned to his wine and said no more. Ralph, feeling
the conversation over, moved for the door but John stopped him.

     “Ralph, why did I not know Burton was
returned?” he asked evenly.

     Ralph swallowed, John was bloody well angry
when he used that sweet tone. “Because I was not told, sire,” he replied
steadily. “I would have informed you immediately, as you know.”

     John was contemplating his gold cup. “I
would have Burton champion me. You will relay the order, Ralph. I want Burton
bearing my colors at the tourney. If he and de Lohr fight side by side, they
will tear through the other participants like a knife through butter and there
will be no chance to fell de Lohr.”

     “Burton will not fell de Lohr, sire,” Ralph
said frankly. “You know that as well as I.”

     John's head came up. “As my champion he
will do as he is ordered.”

     Ralph sighed. “Sire, I am forced to remind
you that de Lohr commands the fighting men, as per Richard's command.”

     John suddenly slammed his fists on the
table. “But knights are of a different breed. They are not commanded as the
common troops.”

     “But they fall under the same provision.”
Ralph argued back. “Knights are sworn above all to the king, which means de
Lohr has command of their loyalty.”

     John threw his cup, standing up so fast
that his chair fell over. His ugly face was red with fury.

     “How is it that a lowly baron commands all
of the fighting men in England?” he seethed. “I am a prince! I command England
and England cowers at my feet, as it should. Now get out of here and do my
bidding. Bring me de Lohr's slut, and then find Burton and inform him of his new
duties.”

     Ralph bowed slowly, eyeing his liege as he
quit the room. John, his nostrils flaring with humiliation and anger, forced
himself to calm. He picked up his chair and sat slowly, forcibly.

     All would be right, eventually, he told
himself. To be rid of de Lohr at this point was his primary goal, and rule of
England second. And, hopefully, the Lion Claw's wife would provide an easy end
to her husband's claim.

***

     Sir Thomas Dudley was in a panic.

     It was all he could do to keep from running
full-bore to the tournament arena where he knew Christopher would be. As it
was, he was jogging at a rapid pace in spite of nearly one hundred pounds worth
of armor. Sweat dotted his dark brow.

     The arena to the east of the castle was
crowded with knights on horseback, men on foot, practicing for the approaching
games. It was a vast area with newly built lists that men were still hammering
on. Dud immediately spied David's blond head on the opposite side of the arena
near the horse corrals and ran straight to him.

     David was with Edward, Leeton and young
Trent. It was obvious they had been practicing heavily, coated with
perspiration, and now stood at rest before the next bout. When Dud came racing
up, crashing into the fence in his haste, all of the men looked at him with
alarm.

     “Dud!” David exclaimed sharply. “Why aren't
you with Dustin?”

     Dud was beside himself. “Where's the
baron?”

     David grabbed him. “He is by the barracks.
Answer me, dammit -is something wrong?”

     Dud's faded green eyes focused on David.
“Sir Ralph came for Lady Dustin not fifteen minutes ago with an entire company
of soldiers. He was polite, but there was no mistaking the message he gave me –
turn the lady over to him or the soldiers would seriously disable me. I had no
choice, David.”

     “Jesus Christ,” David hissed even as Leeton
took off for the barracks on a dead run. “Why didn't you go with her?”

     “Think about it,” Dud removed his helmet,
throwing it to the ground in his anger. “If I did, then there would be no one
to inform Christopher of what had happened. And if I had refused to let the
lady go with him, then I would probably now be drowning in my own blood, which
brings us back to my first point. Someone had to tell Chris.”

     David understood and paced about like a
caged animal. There was naught else to do but wait for his brother. He knew
better than anyone that Ralph was a dead man.

     Christopher and Marcus crossed the compound
and headed toward the castle faster than anyone had ever seen men run in armor.
David and the others, seeing them running in the distance with Leeton trying to
keep pace, ran after them. The group came together just as they were entering a
side gate.

     “Chris,” David called as his brother
charged into the inner courtyard. “What are you going to do?”

     Christopher was so angry he was white. He
stopped running long enough to collect himself and catch his breath, facing his
six faithful knights.

     “I am going to find her first, and then I
am going to kill Ralph,” he said evenly.

     “I was under the impression that he took
her to the prince, my lord,” Dud said. “I am truly sorry to have failed you in
this.”

     “You didn't fall me, Dud,” Christopher said
shortly. “To have gotten yourself killed would have been to fail me. I have no
doubt my wife can hold her own against the prince until I get there.”

     He turned and charged headlong into the
castle with the knights behind him, creating a chaotic scene as they raced down
the halls, nearly running people down in their haste. Soldiers on guard saw the
Lion’s Claw running and began joining their liege. By the time Christopher
mounted the massive staircase leading to the second floor, there were no less
than fifty soldiers following him. Had he not been so concerned for his wife,
then he would have been pleased with the show of loyalty.

     John's apartments were in the royal wing.
Christopher and his men blew past the honor guard, who made a feeble attempt to
stop them but went ignored. They tore up the fragile woolen carpets that led to
John's chambers, Marcus and David barking orders to the soldiers to cover the
exits and position themselves. Christopher, without a word, kicked in the
prince's door.

     He burst into the room, having no idea what
he would find. He was, therefore, completely shocked to see his wife sitting
opposite John, a goblet of wine in her hand and a plate of sugared confections
between them.

     Dustin's half-f goblet clattered to the
floor, splashing out its contents. He could see by her face that he had scared
the hell out of her, but no matter. He knew John and knew what the man was
capable of, and he was vastly relieved to see that she was untouched in any
way.

     “Chris!” she exclaimed. “What did you do?”

     He ignored her and faced off against John.
“Why is my wife here, unescorted?”

     John sat back easily in his chair, a thin
smile on his lips. “We are enjoying one another's company, baron. Certainly
there is no harm in that. And in answer to your question, my apartments are
full of soldiers willing to protect a young woman's virtue.”