Rise of the Defender (53 page)

     John looked directly at Christopher as he
spoke. “I have granted Marcus the baronetcy of Somerhill,” he said, listening
as murmurs of disbelief spread throughout the room. “Be pleased and be warned;
the competition tomorrow will be as tight as history has ever recorded.”

     He had finished his pretty little speech,
his eyes still on Christopher. Disgusted and depressed, Christopher grew more
and more disheartened as his eyes met with Marcus' cobalt-blue orbs, a silent
challenge coming forth from them. Without a word or another glance, he spun on
his heel and quit the room.

     His knights caught up to him several doors
down the corridor.

     “Chris,” David hissed. “What in the hell is
going on? Why is Marcus championing John?”

     “Ask Marcus,” Christopher replied.

     “But…he is sworn to Richard,” Leeton said.
“What happened?”

     Christopher waved them off, too angry and
repulsed to answer them at the moment. Anything he said would come out as too
personal, too selfish, so he ignored their questions. Later, when he was
calmer, he would speak with them.

     David knew they would not receive any
answers. Motioning the others away, he continued to walk in silence beside his
brother as they continued down the hall.

     When they reached the door to Christopher's
apartments, David put a hand on his brother's arm.

     “Truth between us, brother,” he said
quietly. “It is her, isn't it? Did Marcus make advances to her?”

     Christopher looked at his brother and he
could feel his walls coming down. Visibly, he relaxed. “Aye, he did,” he
whispered. “He neglected to tell me the whole truth. Dustin spilled out her
soul, which is typical for her, but Marcus danced around it even when I
confronted him. I can no longer trust the man, David, and I will not have him
under my command.”

     “Over Dustin?” David asked incredulously.
“I cannot believe that, Chris. That is not the Marcus Burton we fought with for
three years.”

     Christopher shook his head. “I do not mean
it as it sounds. As a knight, he is still the only man, aside from you, that I
would have as my right hand. Yet sometimes, where jealousy and emotion are
involved, men have been known to do strange things.” He let out an irritated
sigh. “Damn, David, I just do not know anymore. Since I have returned home,
nothing is as I had planned. I feel as if the natural order of things are unbalanced;
I do not know who to trust or believe anymore.”

     “Because of Dustin?” David asked softly.
“Jesus, Chris, if you'd only open yourself to her and quit fighting everything
you feel, maybe things would be right again. If you would only trust her, you
would be at peace. Your insecurity is making you mad.”

     Christopher smiled faintly. “You sound
entirely wise. But are you right?”

     “He is.”

     The voice came from down the hall. Both men
turned sharply to see Marcus coming toward them, in full regalia, his handsome
face calm.  The tension in the air soared; they could all feel it.  David eyed
his brother, wondering if he was going to have to somehow hold the man back
when he unleashed on Marcus.  But Christopher made no provocative moves as
Marcus drew closer.

     “Before this goes any further, before
irreversible damage is done, I want you to know my reasoning for what I have
done,” Marcus said quietly.

     “No need, Burton,” Christopher said
stiffly.

     “Oh, but there is.” Marcus' eyes glittered.
“You see, I understood your words to me last night, Chris. I see now that you
love Dustin desperately else you would not have blown up at me as you did. You
perceive me as a threat because you are uncertain of your wife's feelings
towards you. Mayhap I am a threat; be that as it may, I have no intention of
trying to steal your wife from you. As for my decision to champion John, I did
it for several important reasons - namely, because John had granted me a title
and lands for which I am deserving, powers that can be used for Richard's
advantage. It matters not who bestows the authority, for once it is mine, it is
mine to keep.” He approached slowly. “Chris, John told me that if I mortally
wound you in the tournament that he would award me your wife. Naturally, I
refused. Last night, Ralph outright threatened Dustin's life if I did not
reconsider. So I did, and I accepted, but not before every one of my demands
and stipulations was put into writing and signed by the prince and by Ralph,
with an additional copy sent to the Archbishop of Canterbury.”

     Christopher and David were stunned. “And
what requirements did you make?” Christopher asked softly.

     “That in the tournament, no matter how I
fared, that my titles and lands could not be revoked,” Marcus replied. “So you
see, I have gained a great deal, but at a great price. My reputation has been
severely compromised, yet I believe redeemable in time. I saw immediate
advantages to becoming John's champion.”

     Christopher swallowed, feeling his guilt
growing by the moment. “And my anger toward you pushed you into this?”

     ''In a sense,” Marcus agreed honestly. “You
have so much and I have very little. Your distrust and fury cut me, Chris,
because it was irrational. 'Tis true I have given you reason to distrust me
where Dustin is concerned, but we have been fighting side by side for so long
that I would hope that fact alone would weigh heavily in your mind.”

     Christopher looked away, unable to meet
Marcus' eyes anymore. Marcus watched his former liege, slowly removing the
gauntlet on his right hand. “With everything that happened yesterday, I do not
expect an instant apology, nor would I accept one, but mayhap over time we can
be friends again,” he said. “But I will give you one last display of loyalty,
baron. I will not fight against you, in battle or in tournament. No one short
of God can order me to do that.”

     Without warning, he slammed his right fist
into the wall as hard as he could, crunching bone and cartilage against stone
and mortar. Something had to give; it was his hand. Bone spurs and shattered
metacarpals thrust up through the flesh and blood was streaming everywhere.
Christopher and David flinched, but through it all, Marcus never uttered a
sound.

     Bitterly shocked, Christopher could only
stand there as David rushed to Marcus, passing a critical eye over the
destroyed hand.

     “Jesus, Marcus,” David swore softly. “Why
in the hell did you do that? You shall be lucky if that hand will ever be
useful again, much less hold a sword.”

     Marcus, his face pale the only indication
of the level of pain he was experiencing, continued to meet Christopher's eyes
steadily.

     “I will not fight against the baron,” he
repeated weakly.

     David passed a glance at Christopher as he
wrapped Marcus' hand in a scarf to stop the gushing blood. Without another
word, David led Marcus back down the hall and disappeared with him, leaving
Christopher standing in stunned silence, alone in the corridor, with tears in
his eyes.

***

     Christopher found Dustin sitting in their
great antechamber with a piece of needlework in her hand. She did not
acknowledge him in any way when he stormed in, tossing his cape aside and
marching to the closet that held his armor. He was still reeling with shock,
far more determined than he had ever been to win the tournament tomorrow and
laugh in John's face. He felt as if he were fighting for both Marcus and
himself, as well as Richard and the entire crown. Sometimes it was as if the
weight of the world was riding on his massive shoulders and it would merely
take a feather's burden to break him into a thousand pieces.

     The feather's burden could very well come
in the form of his wife. He didn't glance at her as he put on his armor, even
as her maids came out to help him with his mail hood and gauntlets. Dustin
ignored him, as well, her beautiful face buried in her needlepoint. If the
maids questioned her behavior, they did not show it.

     Christopher chased the serving women away
and strapped on his sword, moving to pick up his helmet. He did glance at
Dustin then, his eyes raking over her in a pretty purple surcoat and her hair
pulled back softly.  She looked beautiful.

     “You are coming with me,” he said shortly.

     Her head came up. “Where, my lord?”

     He adjusted his helmet before slamming it
onto his head. “To the practice field, lady, as you did yesterday. Gather your
cloak.”

     Still clutching the needlework, she
retrieved the other cloak she brought, an off-white heavy cape with ermine
lining, and swung it over her shoulders. He watched her secure the neck and
pull it comfortable about her, wanting to help her, to touch her, but
restraining himself from even trying.

     As his wife, he had every right to touch
her any way he pleased, but she was quite distant and cold and he found his
guard was up, as well.

     “Come, Lady de Lohr,” he held out his arm
formally and she accepted stiffly.

     He took her down to the practice area with
him where several dozen knights were already going about their practice rounds.
He sat Dustin down by the new lists where he could keep an eye on her and went
to join his men over by the eastern wall of the arena.

     David saw him coming. He was working out a
scratch in his sword as his brother approached. “How is your wife this morn?”
he asked.

     “I do not know,” Christopher replied
disinterestedly, then turned to the rest of his men. “We will practice between
ourselves this morn. Baron Sedgewick's men wish to challenge us to light rounds
later, as do Lord Darby's men. We will take them on after the nooning meal.”

     Everyone moved to the arena but Edward. He
moved close to Christopher. “David told me what happened with Marcus.”

     Christopher nodded, slamming down his face
plate. “How does he fare?”

     “Marcus? His hand is crushed and he will be
fortunate if he can ever hold anything in it again, but he's resting
comfortably in his quarters,” Edward replied, eyeing Christopher. “You really
should go see him, Chris. The man ruined his life because of you.”

     Christopher’s head snapped to him. “Do not
you think I know that? Do not you think that I am so completely guilt-ridden
that my insides are eating themselves out? Leave me alone, Edward. I would deal
with this myself.”

     “Does Dustin know?” Edward asked softly.

     “Hell no, she doesn't,” Christopher
snapped. “She already resents me and I will not add fuel to the fire.”

     “She's going to hear about it, you know,”
Edward pointed out. “’Twould be better if she heard the truth from you first.
If she hears it second-hand, 'twill only worsen her feelings.”

     Christopher sighed, unsheathing his sword
and examining it. Then he lowered it, jamming it into the cold earth.

     “Marcus found her wandering the halls last
night and brought her back to me,” he said quietly. “He held her in his arms as
if she were the damn Virgin Mary or something. When I saw the look on his face,
and the way she was pressed against him, something….I snapped, Edward. I
ordered him out of my service, and away from my wife. It was if I was listening
to someone else shout at Marcus and I had no control over it. Dustin was there,
of course, and heard everything. She told me I was not fair and she was right,
but I honestly felt I was doing what was necessary to preserve our marriage. I
just did not go about it properly.”

     Edward nodded in understanding. “And
Marcus, distraught, ran right to John and accepted a reward for representing
him in the tournament.”

     “Something like that, I am sure,”
Christopher murmured. “He insisted that Ralph had threatened Dustin's life and
that fact contributed to his decision. But he, like me, has had time to think
about the rashness of our actions. The only escape for him was to injure
himself so he could no longer fight, thereby saving his pride and reputation.
But I do not know what escape there is for me; I have made a mess out of
everything because of this goddamn pride I carry.”

     Edward gazed off across the arena, seeing
Dustin sitting in the stands with her nose buried in a book. “Do you want my
opinion?

     Christopher snorted. “Absolutely.”

     “Then apologize to Dustin and beg her
forgiveness for being so harsh and cold and cruel,” Edward said. “I have a
feeling she would be most understanding if you were to only be honest with her.
And as for Marcus, apologize as well and hope for the best. He worships the
ground you walk on, you know.”

     Christopher nodded vaguely, drawing his
sword forth from the ground deliberately. “You are most likely right, my
friend,” he said. “Come now; let us see who is sharper this morning in the
arena.”

     Glancing up from her needlepoint, Dustin
stole glances at her husband as he fought Edward effortlessly. To watch him fight
again caused her heart to swell with enormous pride and she again remembered
the passion and fire between them last night. But since yesterday he had
returned to the cold, unfeeling baron that had come to Lioncross over a week
ago, a man who married her in dirty armor and who's steely demeanor filled her
with loathing. It made her eyes fill with tears to think that he would be that
way the rest of their lives, unable to forgive her for an innocent mistake.