Epic Knights of Legend and Steel

Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN

T he church was dark at this hour, two fat tapers the only light in the dark and shadowed vestibule. The place was cavernous and haunted, smelling of incense, as Davyss slipped from the side entrance and into the shadows of the Temple church. The stone walls were cold, the floor dusty, and he moved through the musty darkness like a wraith. His senses were highly attuned as he wedged himself into an alcove that held a large stone receptacle of holy water. He was well out of sight and blending with his dark surroundings. He simply stood there, still as the stone surrounding him, and waited.

It wasn’t long before he noticed movement on the opposite end of the sanctuary. It was a cloaked figure in the darkness near the altar; he could see the folds of the material when the figure moved slightly. They rippled in the weak light, like the ripples of a pond. Davyss made his way, in perfect stealth, in the direction of the movement. In the darkness, he came up behind the figure and put a dagger at its throat.

“Any sounds from your lips and you shall die,” he hissed quickly. “State your purpose.”

The figure grunted. “ Si j’étais un plus jeune homme j’arracherais vos bras et vous bats à la mort avec eux.”

Davyss dropped the dagger. “Even when you were a younger man, you could not rip my arms off,” he snorted softly. “I think you tried, once.”

The cloaked figure turned to Davyss in the darkness. He did not remove his hood but exposed his face; the strong, weathered features of Simon de Montfort gazed steadily at his godson.

“I did try,” he insisted. “But your mother stopped me. She threatened to beat me to death and she frightened me.”

“She is a frightening woman.”

“Still?”

“Good God, must you really ask that?”

Simon’s hazel eyes glittered. “I do not,” he murmured, drinking in his fill of the man he loved like a son. His humor faded. “’Tis good to see you again. I have missed you.”

Davyss was in business-mode; he didn’t like these clandestine meetings but he did not want to appear rude. All politics aside, Simon was the only link he had to his long-dead and adored father. He had a soft spot for him, which explained why he was willing to risk his life to meet secretly with him. But their time was extremely limited and he hastened to conduct their business before they were discovered. He reached out and put his hand on the old man’s arm, squeezing it.

“What’s this about, Uncle Simon?” he whispered. “Why did you need to see me?”

Simon latched on to his hand and held it tightly. “Because I am a weary old man. I need you, Davyss.”

Davyss could see the old argument rearing its ugly head. He wasn’t surprised that it was immediate. His expression turned stiff.

“Is that why you sent for me?” he growled. “We have been through this too many times to count. I cannot help you.”

“But you must. It is crucial.” When Simon saw that he was making no headway, he grabbed Davyss by the arm with his old, strong fingers. “Davyss, listen to me. I do not want to see your death, boy. I could not bear it. You have brought three hundred men with you to London and another two thousand wait for you near the Tower. Can you not sense what is happening, lad?”

Davyss’ hazel eyes took on an odd flicker. “Of course I know what is happening. I know everything.”

Simon sighed sharply, hanging his head a moment and struggling to explain what he must in another way so that Davyss would understand the importance. His head came up and his dark eyes focused on his godson once more.

“Davyss,” his grip on the man lessened. “We are amassing. Your beloved Henry is refusing to honor the terms he agreed to six years ago at Oxford and….”

Davyss pulled away from him. “I am a soldier, not a politician. I do not dictate the king’s decisions nor do I care. I simply serve him, Simon. You know this.”

“He is bringing about another war.”

“Then I shall fight it.”

“And you shall die,” Simon grabbed his arm again and held fast even as Davyss tried to move away. “Listen to me, lad; there are many barons angered by the king’s refusal to honor the terms that he signed at Oxford and they are ready to do something about it. We have given the man six years, Davyss; six years to come to his senses and honor his word. But he has not. Do you not understand? An explosion such as you have never dreamed is coming and I do not want you to be a casualty of it.”

Davyss stopped yanking and stared at the old man. “Listen to me and listen well,” he rumbled. “I serve the king. I am his sword. If Henry goes into battle, then I lead the charge. I will not join you, Uncle Simon. I do not know how much plainer I can be.”

Simon remained calm, his wise old eyes regarding the man. His grip moved from the man’s arm to his hand, and he held it tightly.

“You are like a son to me,” he murmured. “Your father gave you over to me at birth to guide and to bless. I have done so, have I not?”

Davyss nodded slowly, fighting off old and tender memories. “Aye.”

“I love you as my own.”

“I know.”

“I would risk my life for you.”

Davyss just stared at him, struggling to fight off the increasing emotion. “And I, you, under normal circumstances. But do not ask me to betray my king. I cannot and I will not. I would be a man without honor if I did.”

Simon hung his head. It seemed as if he wanted to say something more, something crucial. He was struggling. Davyss didn’t understand why until the old man opened his mouth again.

“Hugh has joined me,” he whispered. “Your mother sent word a short time ago. Hugh is now with me. You have lost his sword.”

That revelation received a reaction; Davyss’ eyes bulged and he yanked his hand away from Simon.

“You lie,” he hissed. “Hugh would never….”

He abruptly came to a halt, unable to finish his sentence. All of the trouble with Devereux and Hugh came crashing down on him and suddenly, he felt extremely ill. The room swayed. He put out a massive arm, bracing himself against the stone wall. Simon could see the weakness and, like a good warrior, swooped in for the kill.

“I was told that Hugh murdered your wife,” he whispered urgently. “Your mother sent him to me for protection. Davyss, whatever has transpired between you and Hugh, a woman is no reason to hate or disown your brother.”

Davyss reached out and grabbed Simon by the neck; Simon was a big man but not as strong nor as big as Davyss. Simon could see, in that instant, that there was much more to this than the missive Lady Katharine had sent him. Simply by his expression, Davyss was as passionate as he had ever seen him.

“Shut your mouth,” Davyss snarled. “You know not of what you speak.”

“He is your brother, Davyss.”

“And she is my wife,” Davyss let go of Simon’s neck, roughly, his hazel eyes flashing. “In spite of what Hugh tried to do, she is not dead. She is alive and well. But Hugh will suffer my wrath and all of the protection in the world will not prevent that. If you protect Hugh from me, then you are against me. If you are against me, then we have nothing more to discuss.”

Simon’s eyes took on a pained look. “I will never be against you, lad. Neither is Hugh.”

“My entire family has apparently turned against me.”

“But what of this wife? Is she so valuable to you that you would put her above your brother?”

It was a difficult question to answer, considering Davyss had been wrestling with that very dilemma for a few days. “That is not your business,” he snapped. It was the best answer he could come up with.

But Simon was beginning to see why Davyss and Hugh were divided and it wasn’t simply a matter of honor. There was more to it from the look on Davyss’ face.

“Nay, Davyss,” he said patiently, as if trying to explain things to him. “A woman must not come between you and your brother.”

Davyss was feeling ill; he simply waved a hand at the man as if to stop all further words and turned to leave. Simon followed.

“Please,” the old man begged softly. “Will you at least not consider my words? We need you, lad. I need you.”

Davyss was feeling fury along with his disorientation. Simon had him on the run and he didn’t like it. He suddenly whirled on Simon and the old man almost plowed into him.

“If my mother is involved in this, then she has betrayed me as well,” he hissed. “She would send Hugh to you to keep him from my punishment and you would use him to try and convince me to join you. Understand this, Simon; I am a man of honor. I will not break my oath to the king nor walk away from a post I have worked so hard to achieve. Hugh is jealous of my wife and tried to kill her; he must and will face my punishment no matter if God himself hides him. I will find him. And I will not join you and your rebellious barons because the true king sits upon the throne of England and it is he whom I serve. All of the men in my arsenal could join you and still, I would serve Henry. I must. It is a matter of personal honor.”

Simon understood a great deal in that passionate statement. He almost mentioned the fact but he kept his mouth shut; he would not display his thoughts nor his intentions, as Davyss was a smart man and would pick up on it immediately. So he kept silent, watching Davyss as the man blew out of the church like an angry black wind. And that was the end of it.

When Simon returned to his quarters, he sent a missive to Lady Katharine immediately.

Who is Davyss’ wife and where may I find her? It may be necessary….

*

Devereux had awoken with the worst belly ache she could imagine. Moving around only seemed to make her more nauseous, but it was her first full day in her new home and she did not want to spend it lying in bed, so she forced herself to rise. Lucy and Frances were waiting like impatient children for her to awaken and when she did, they immediately set about preparing her morning toilette. Devereux felt awful but she allowed them the pleasure. They seemed so eager about it.

So she sat in the bathing room while they fussed over her. Lucy rubbed oil on her skin while Frances brushed her hair. As the women worked, Devereux sat in a fog, her mind on Davyss and the fact that he had more than likely gone to do his brother great bodily harm. The thought made her feel even worse. With her aching head and rolling stomach, she very much wanted to return to bed. Half-way through her toilette, she could no longer stand it.

“I am sorry, ladies,” she stood up from the little stool they had her seated on. “I believe my harrowing night has taken its toll. I must lie down for a time.”

Lucy and Frances were very concerned. “Are you ill, Lady de Winter?” Lucy asked fretfully.

Devereux nodded as she went back into the bed chamber and climbed back into bed. “Please see that I am not disturbed.”

Frances and Lucy helped pull the coverlet up around her, passing anxious glances.

“Shall we send up some wine and bread, my lady?” Frances asked.

The thought of food made Devereux feel ill. She shook her head as she lay down. “Nay,” she sighed as she settled in. “No food. Just let me sleep for a time. I am sure I will feel better in a little while.”

“Do you require the surgeon?”

“Nay. Just sleep.”

There was nothing more that Lucy or Frances could say. They left Devereux asleep in the great bed, although they made sure that one of them was outside of the door at all times in case she needed something. When Davyss returned sometime before noon, Lucy was waiting anxiously for him with a tale of woe.

He raced to the master’s chamber to find Devereux sound asleep. The tapestry was lowered, blocking out the light from the windows and the room was dark and musty. He was very quiet as he leaned over his wife, putting a gentle hand on her forehead to make sure she wasn’t running a fever. He was deeply concerned, shooing Lucy and Frances out of the room. He followed shortly. Once outside the door, he spoke.

“Did she eat this morning?” he asked.

Lucy shook her head. “Nay, my lord. She did not want anything to eat.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “I see,” he frowned, thoughtful. “What did she say her symptoms were?”

“She did not,” Frances answered. “She only said she must lie down. But she has been asleep all morning.”

Davyss digested her statement, the situation in general. He exhaled sharply, blowing out his cheeks. “I can only assume that last night was too much for her,” he said. “She is exhausted and injured, and we will let her sleep until she feels better.”

“Of course, my lord,” Lucy nodded eagerly. “We shall sit with her in case she requires anything.”

Davyss shook his head. “Nay,” he informed them. “I will sit with her. Send food up to my chamber, please.”

The women nodded and fled. Davyss went back into the darkened chamber and tried to stay quiet as he wearily removed his boots. He set the first one down silently but the second one made some noise. He froze, watching Devereux, but she remained still. He resumed removing his tunic, quietly, tossing it over near the wardrobe. By the time he sat down next to the bed, Devereux was awake and looking at him.

“You make enough noise to wake the dead,” she mumbled.

He grinned down at her, smoothing a big hand across her forehead. “Enough to wake you, at any rate,” he removed his hand, gazing sweetly down at her. “I heard that you were not feeling well. Is there anything I can do?”

She looked up at him with her brilliant gray eyes and the humor in her expression faded. “Aye,” she whispered. “You can tell me that you did not kill your brother.”

His grin disappeared, the hazel eyes intense. “I did not kill my brother.”

“Then where did you go?”

He continued to gaze steadily at her. “On an errand,” he replied. “But you need not concern yourself with that. I am more concerned with your health. How do you feel?”

She did not press him on where he had disappeared to; there was no need to if he had not gone to murder Hugh. Devereux realized that she was simply glad to see him.

“Better now that you are here,” she smiled wearily. “My head pounds something fierce and my stomach is lurching like waves crashing upon the shore.”

His grin returned and he sat on the edge of the bed; she rolled into him, pressed against his thigh.

“Let me send for Lollardly,” he said. “He can give you something for your head.”

“Lollardly?” she repeated, confused. “Is he not your priest?”

“He is our surgeon also.”

She made a reluctant face. “Very well.”

He winked at her and kissed her forehead, sending Lucy, hovering just outside the door, for Lollardly, the man of many talents. She almost plowed into Frances in her haste, who was bringing food to Davyss. Since Devereux chased off the serving wenches, Lucy and Frances were doing double-duty. Davyss lifted an eyebrow at the near-collision, watching Lucy scamper off. Frances presented him with a large tray of edibles. Davyss took it back to his wife, who was now sitting up, albeit slowly, in bed.

“Do you feel like eating something?” he asked.

She peered at the tray he offered, noting the cheese, bread, small apples and some kind of meat. She made a face and waved him off as she climbed out of bed.

“No, thank you,” she stood up, weaving unsteadily. “I will get dressed and have you show me Wintercroft. I have not seen the entire place. Just the tower stairwell, you know.”

He couldn’t help but grin at her, the funny way she delivered the last sentence. He was coming to see that she had a delightful sense of humor. “I know,” he replied with a mixture of resignation and disapproval. “Are you sure you want a tour? Perhaps you should rest today.”

She shook her head, stretching out her stiff muscles as she moved for the bathing alcove. “I am fine,” she insisted. “Please eat your meal and I will dress.”

“I would like for you to eat something also.”

She mumbled something he didn’t hear as she moved into the bathing alcove. With a shrug, he delved into the meat on the tray. He hadn’t taken two bites when he heard her retching. Pushing the tray aside, he moved swiftly into the bathing alcove to find her bent over the basin, dry heaving. His concern returned full-force.

“Are you all right?” he asked anxiously.

She nodded, holding her hair back as she continued to dry-heave. When the heaves passed, she took a deep breath and wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand.

“I am fine,” she muttered.

“You do not look fine.”

Her gray eyes widened. “I look terrible?”

He noted the distress on her face and shook his head, putting his hands on her shoulders and steering her back into their chamber. “You are still the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” he assured her. “I simply meant that you are obviously not fine. Lie back down and eat some bread. Perhaps it will make you feel better.”

She didn’t argue with him until he tried to hand her the bread. She resisted until he put it to her mouth himself and gently ordered her to take a bite. She did, but chewed as if it was made of wood. Davyss was torn between the humor of her expression and concern for her physical state, but she managed to choke down four bites of bread before falling back to the bed and covering her head with the pillow. He did grin, then, and ate the rest of the bread as he sat next to her. He put his free hand on her back, stroking her hair until she dozed.

Lucy and Lollardly arrived some time later. The old priest had a bag with him and entered the bed chamber with Lucy in tow, his old eyes moving back and forth between Davyss and the lump under the covers beside him.

“Lady de Winter is feeling poorly?” Lollardly asked Davyss. “What seems to be amiss?”

Davyss looked over at the bundle of covers beside him. “Her stomach aches and her head hurts,” he said. “Give her something to heal her.”

Lollardly lifted an eyebrow and went to the other side of the bed for better access to Lady de Winter. He peered at the bump under the covers, trying to get a look at her without lifting any of the material. Finally, he gingerly reached down and lifted up the pillow. Lady de Winter’s disapproving face was looking back at him.

“Well?” she lifted an eyebrow. “Do you have something to cure what ails me?”

Lollardly began to rummage through his bag. “What, in particular, ails you, my lady?”

She sat up slowly, covering her mouth when a burp threatened. “Everything,” she groaned. “My head throbs and my stomach aches.”

Lollardly listened to her before digging into his bag and removing a couple of crude leather pouches. He had Lucy bring him some wine and he dissolved first a white, then a brown, powder into the wine. He handed it to Devereux. She eyed it suspiciously.

“What is this?” she asked.

“Drink it.”

“I want to know what is in it.”

“Magic. Mysterious stuff. You would not understand.”

She pursed her lips at him. “Then explain it so I will.”

Lollardly was losing his patience. “Do you want to feel better?”

“Of course.”

“Then stop talking and drink it.”

She was gearing up for a sharp retort but Davyss, grinning, intervened. “You had better tell her or we will be here all day,” he told the old man.

Lollardly frowned, displaying great disapproval as he focused on Devereux. “White willow and coriander,” he replied. “Now will you drink it?”

She eyed him as if to emphasize that she was not complying particularly willingly, but she accepted the cup and drained it. Davyss smiled his approval and helped her lie back down.

“Now,” he kissed her on the forehead. “Go to sleep. You will feel better when you awake.”

She snuggled down into the coverlet and sighed wearily, gazing up at him. “Will you stay with me?”

His smile faded. “For a while,” he said. “But I have business in London I must attend to and I am leaving tonight.”

She bolted up again into a seated position, fighting the nausea that swelled like the tide. “Business?” she repeated, concerned. “How long will you be gone?”

He was very touched to see the concern in her eyes, as if she did not want him to leave. He never thought to see that expression on her face, ever. It was then that he began to realize that the past few days together might have accomplished exactly as he had hoped; she had warmed to him. Perhaps with time she would actually….

“I do not know,” he said quietly, stroking her pale cheek. “Will you miss me?”

She studied him, fighting the urge to lie. She wanted to deny him. But she found that she could not. “Aye,” she said after a moment. “I believe I will.”

He grinned and kissed her cheek, then her mouth. “I never thought to hear that from your lips.”’

She met his grin reluctantly, closing her eyes in sheer bliss when he kissed her cheek again. “And I never thought to say it,” she lifted her hand, putting it against his stubbly cheek “Can I come with you? I have never been to London before.”

The denial was on his lips. He tried to speak it but could not make the words come forth. Gazing into her lovely gray eyes, he knew he was going to comply. Although he knew very well that she should stay at Wintercroft, he realized he wanted her with him no matter what.

“You may be spending a good deal of your time alone,” he tried very weakly to discourage her. “I have business with the king.”

Her eyes widened. “The king?”

His smile returned and he chuckled. “Aye, the king,” he lifted his eyebrows. “Surely you did not forget that I am his champion.”

She shook her head; then she nodded. “I must confess that for a moment, the fact did escape me,” she replied. “Are you really going to see him?”

“Truly.”

“Will… will I meet him also?”

“More than likely.”

Her eyes bugged and she suddenly propelled herself out of bed. “I must pack,” she said anxiously, motioning to Lucy standing just outside the open chamber door. “Come, Lucy, and help me!”

Lucy was as skittish as a bird. She flew into the room, following Devereux as she bolted into the bathing alcove. Mildly startled and slightly confused at the burst of activity, Davyss stood up from the bed and scratched his dark head at the crazed women darting around him.

“Your trunks have not been completely unpacked since our arrival,” he called out to his wife helpfully. “You do not need to fly into a frenzy.”

She rushed out of the bathing alcove with a small box of toiletries in her hand. “Aye, I do!”

He chuckled as she ran past him, towards the neat row of trunks against the wall. “I thought you were feeling poorly.”

She dumped the box into the trunk and whirled on him. “I am,” she insisted. “But that will not stop me from going with you.”

He watched her as she raced past him, stepping back so she wouldn’t run him over. “Are you sure?”

She disappeared into the bathing alcove. It wasn’t two seconds later that he heard retching again.