Joust of Hearts (11 page)

“The truth,” he added.

Melisande decided to share her innermost thoughts with him. Why, she had shared everything else with him, beginning last night. She adjusted her position to lie fully next to him then laid her head to rest atop her folded arm and sighed. “Devin, this is something that pleases me naught to speak of, but you did ask.” Preparing for the unpleasant task of telling a true tale from her own life, Melisande became uncomfortable, so she sat up, placed her hands in her lap, and stared off into the distance.

“My late husband was knight to Lord Herbert Lancaster. We were married shortly after he retired from serving the noble, yet all he spoke of were the great battles he fought in, the weapons, the bloodsport…”

Devin shrugged and started to speak, but her next words halted him.

“There is more. He was old, aye, but he was also a ruthless man. Please do not think he was
always
that way—he never struck me… Well, not intentionally—”

Devin sat up, his abrupt action interrupting her tale. “Intentionally? I do not understand. You were but a child,” Devin stated, indignation in his voice.

“Liam threw things. He pushed, he shouted— ’Twas as if he had…fits of rage. If everything did not go his way, whether it was the serfs or the crops, he would become very angry.”

“‘Angry’ seems to be a mild way of describing such a disposition,” Devin said, obviously perturbed. “How could a man—much less a knight—treat you with anything but reverence and respect?”

Melisande looked down at her folded hands for a moment. Familiar emotions overwhelmed her, filling her eyes with tears. “His rage frightened me. However, ’twas his right to treat me thus, for I was his wife.” Devin opened his mouth to protest, when Melisande ended her account. “I have never told anyone this.”

It took a moment for Devin to respond. “The weight of your situation must have been difficult to endure,” he said, his voice tremulous with emotion.

Melisande nodded.

Devin moved to sit next to her and placed his arm protectively around her shoulders.

“’Tis why I do not like hostilities of any kind, be it mock battles or otherwise. I never wish to be part or party to that sort of vice ever again.” She dabbed at the salty droplets that threatened to fall from her eyes with her sleeves.

Devin moved, this time to sit before her. “Not all knights are this way—most especially the more honorable men of the brotherhood.”

“I have yet to meet a knight who does not continually talk of swords and killing…”

“Aye, you have indeed, Melisande.”

Chapter Ten

“Of whom do you speak?” Melisande looked to him for his answer.

From inside his tunic, Devin pulled out a single red rose with a dark gray ribbon tied in a bow around its stem and handed the flower to her.

“I do not understand. What does a rose have to do with—” With a start she recognized the ribbon and remembered the championing of the knight at the joust.

The realization hit her like a blow to the stomach.

She drew a tremulous breath. “
You
are the Black Knight?” Her voice faltered, barely a whisper. She stared at him for a few long, painful moments, her jaw slack with astonishment. The rose in Melisande’s hand began to shake. Schooling her tremors, she felt her features turn to granite.

Devin’s words came out in a rush. “Melisande, I observed your countenance during the matches. I knew something had bothered you. I decided not to tell you—”

She interrupted him. “You.
Decided
?”

“Melisande, I never meant to betray—”

“Had I but known of… I would
never
have given myself… The things we did! Why, I let you—” A sob escaped from Melisande. Appalled at her behavior and sickened by his deception, she covered her mouth with her free hand. Tears began to flow from her eyes as the situation stabbed her heart like a thousand thorns.

“Melisande, please—” He raised his hands palm up to her in silent supplication.

A voice came from off in the distance. “Sir Devin? Sir Devin!”

Melisande stood up and took a few steps in the opposite direction of the voice, trying in vain to pat dry the tears that continued to fall from her lashes.

“Who calls?” Devin demanded.

“’Tis I, Parker, my lord.” His young squire came running around the hedge.

“What is it?”

Parker was out of breath from running. “’Tis Sir Frederick. He needs your assistance. A
York
,” the young man spat the label, “is trying to seize his lands from the north.”

Devin could hardly believe what he was hearing. “Without any regard at all to the alliance between the houses of Tudor and his own York?”

“To this rogue, it matters not,” Parker announced with indignation.

“Have you gathered my suit and weapons?”

“Aye, my lord. All is ready for the journey save for thee.”

“I will go now.” He took a few bounding steps toward his horse but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Melisande’s little mare grazing with his mighty stallion. Devin shook inside as he turned to face Melisande.

She stood there, her teeth clenched, her gaze hard.

“Melisande—” Devin implored.

“You lied to me.”

She spoke with an intense force, as if her words were individual statements. She did this, he had noticed, when attempting to keep her anger in check. The echo hung in the air like a gloomy mist, but before Devin could defend himself she continued.

“Now go. Kill and destroy. I will not be at Willowbrook upon your return, that is, if you
do
return.” Her voice cracked, bespeaking the vehement storm of emotion seething within her. “I never want to set eyes on you again.”

“Melisande, Sir Frederick is my ally. I was but a page at the battle of Bosworth and Sir Frederick saved my life. I
must
go.”

“Just leave me and let me wallow in my sins.” She choked out her words.

“And what about
my
sins—I participated with you!”

“Do not speak of
that
again. You,
Sir
Devin, have no soul.” Her full-bodied voice roared in his ears and echoed through his body. She glanced down at the rose in her hand and hurled it at the ground before him.

Devin withstood her rage, allowing it to pierce his heart.
I deserve this
. His scheme had failed, and, in turn, he had failed her.

Parker interrupted the scene impatiently from behind Devin. “Pray forgive me, but we must leave soon, my lord, for nightfall is nearly upon us.”

Devin broke out of the intense gaze held between himself and Melisande and spoke to Parker. “See to it that the lady arrives at Willowbrook safely, for she will not allow me to reason with her at present.”

“Aye, my lord.” Parker nodded.

“Catch me up directly. I shall take the north road.” Devin never looked back at her as he mounted his horse and raced off for Willowbrook.

“M’lady.” Parker motioned toward her mount.

Melisande lifted her chin a notch or two before she spoke to Parker. “They have succeeded in turning you into one of them, have they not? Poor child.” She strode past the boy and, stepping on to a low, sturdy branch, mounted her little mare without assistance.

She cried silently along the way. The only evidence of her torment was the constant stream of tears that trickled down her cheeks.

Chastising herself over and over again, she knew her penance would not only include multiple prayers offered to God, but her heart, it seemed, had been diced into small pieces, and the recovery, she imagined, wouldn’t be forthcoming any time soon.

She allowed Guinevere to set a slow pace back to Willowbrook—taking Parker’s silence as gratitude for the tempo of the ride, for he was still on foot.

* * * *

At Willowbrook, Devin had readily slipped into his armor with the help of a page and had prepared Hector with the saddle and dressings used for battle. After a brief conversation with Lady Helena, and with his sword at his side, he was on his way in just over a quarter of an hour.

He paused at the gates, steering Hector around so that he could gaze upon Willowbrook one last time.

“I will find you again, my Lady Dupree. And when I do, I shall convince you that our fates are intertwined. For better or for worse.”

Hector pawed at the ground, seeming just as anxious to arrive at the approaching battle as Devin.

Forcing himself to focus on what lay ahead, Devin turned Hector back toward the road, giving him as much rein as he required. Propelling them forward, Hector’s strides devoured the path before them.

* * * *

Melisande, for once, was thankful for her nosy maids. She sent them to search out fresh water so she could be alone to think, figuring they would take their time and visit with others along the way. One side of her felt a keen disappointment that Devin was gone. Yet, on the other hand, she was glad. She had naught to say to the errant Black Knight.

At first she tried to keep her mind occupied, but every time she relaxed she thought of Devin. Upon her maids’ return, she had Tilly fetch her
psaltery
and instructed them not to call her to supper. In an empty solar at the southern-most end of the castle, Melisande made harsh the tunes she so loved to play. The composers of the beautiful songs, were they to hear the damage she was doing, would have splintered her instrument to pieces and bade her to never play again.

After some time, the anger within took its toll and managed to exhaust her. To be void of
any
emotion, she imagined, would be better than seething. She went back to her chamber and lay down upon her bed still fully clothed, save for her hat and shoes. She buried her face in her pillows and, unable to stem the tide, cried herself to sleep.

* * * *

The morning light brought with it the ever chipper Maggie and Tilly.

Pushing aside the tapestry and opening the shutters, Maggie exclaimed, “What a beautiful day for an outing with Lady Bergavny!”

“London. I am perfectly envious!” Tilly chimed in.

The maids chattered back and forth as they removed the rumpled gown that Melisande had slept in. They apologized profusely for not having been ready for her upon her early retirement. Just as Melisande could take their banter no longer, there was a knock at the door.

“Melisande, might I enter? ’Tis Helena.”

Melisande looked up toward the heavens to implore God to get her out of this morning’s activities, not that she felt she deserved His divine intervention. With a sigh, she called out, “Aye, Helena, you may.”

“Come, let us be off the moment you are dressed. The sooner we get to London the better. I am anticipating a wonderful trip.”

Melisande sighed. “Helena, I am afraid I will not be accompanying you on this outing.”

Maggie and Tilly gasped and stared open-mouthed. Melisande shot her maids a contemptuous look and dismissed them with a wave of her hand.

The moment they were gone Helena sat down on the side of the bed. Melisande joined her there.

“Why, dearest?”

“I am not up to a journey to London or anywhere else this day, except mayhaps back to Dupree.”

Helena took her hand, which Melisande reluctantly allowed. “Does this, perchance, have anything to do with Devin?”

The lady’s directness took Melisande aback. “Nay. Aye. I know not. My companionship would be most ill-tempered this day, ’tis all.”

“Child. Devin will be back in a twinkling and this trip will cause your mind to not dwell on thoughts of him.”

Uncomfortable with the subject at hand, Melisande shifted upon the mattress. “What you need to understand is that it matters naught to me if
Sir
Devin ever comes back. I shan’t be seeing him again.” At her statement, Melisande observed guilt wash over Helena’s face like a veil.

So, Lady Helena knew Devin was a knight and didn’t tell me. Was it an oversight or did she hide the truth on purpose?
She’d have to decide later whether or not to be upset with Helena.

“Melisande, Sir Devin is in love with you.”

The simple statement took a moment to sink in.
Impossible
.
Love has many guises. Helena must be mistaken.
“Love? Ha. I think not. Lust, more like.”

“Yesterday when Sir Devin came to me in a rush just after your outing he enquired, ‘
Where is Melisande
?’ I teased him. ‘
Have you had a lovers quarrel so soon
?’

“In brief, Devin explained to me what he was about and that he had equipped his stallion for battle. I could see the anguish in his eyes and I am most positive it was because he had to leave you.”

“He did not
have
to leave!” Melisande raised her voice then, failing to mask her emotions.

“There is no need to upset yourself. Sir Devin is a loyal man—loyal to his friends as well as to his loved ones.”

There was naught she could do when tears spilled down her cheeks. “If Devin and I were to be together,
I
would have come first,
not
his bloody battles.”

Helena put her arm around Melisande’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “Above all, ’tis I who understand not being first in my husband’s life, ’tis every woman’s fate who falls in love with a knight of the realm. However, maturity brings with it patience, and the ability to see that there are many sides to love. I do not expect you to completely grasp the idea this very moment, but someday you will.”

She pulled away from Helena and mopped at her tears with her sleeves. When Helena spoke again, her tone was much lighter.

“Now, my dear, if you are so determined to put Sir Devin out of your mind, this outing is just the thing. Fitzherbert left early this morn and is already in London visiting King Henry. They fought at Bosworth together with Sir Liam, if you recall, and Fitzherbert and Sir Liam were among the first to vow their loyalties to Henry when Richard fell.”

“Aye, I remember the telling of that battle, many times over,” Melisande replied, unable to prevent the subtly sarcastic tone in her voice.