Chapter Six
The next day dawned warm and humid, and the men were sweating buckets underneath their plate armor and mail. Gaston’s hair was completely wet with perspiration, slicked back on his head to keep it out of his face.
He was supervising the cleanup of the sublevels of the outer wall in preparation of the arrival of the new recruits from London.
The tanner and the blacksmith had to be relocated, adding to the task, and Gaston set the masons to work on an additional shelter to house more knights.
The shelter, located where the tanner and the blacksmith had been housed, used the outer wall as one wall and was planned to house up to forty knights.
It was dirty, smelly, hot work and tempers were ripe.
Arik snapped at Patrick, Patrick would snap at everyone, and Antonius was soundly reprimanded by Gaston when he removed every strip of clothing from the waist up.
Antonius had the body of a Roman statue, muscular and lean and completely beautiful and he was not ashamed to display his flesh.
It tanned quickly underneath the hot sun, but Gaston put an end to it and angrily sent the man to the sublevels to supervise the cleanup.
But not before Jasmine had seen him half nude from her bedchamber window.
At first she was embarrassed, but she quickly discovered he was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen and was greatly disappointed when Gaston put an end to her fun.
Yet she came away from the window with her opinion of the male sex slightly swayed, a very large step indeed.
Mayhap not all men were vile, horrid creatures.
There was apparently one that was quite easy to look at.
The castle provided minimum relief from the heat.
Remington had seen to her morning duties dressed in a gauzy linen surcoat that swept the floor behind her when she walked, the v-shaped neckline draping beautifully between the swells of her breasts.
Her curly mane was swept back into a gold net to keep it off her neck, but rogue tendrils escaped and curled against her face and shoulders.
By late morning it was far too hot to do anything more than sit and embroider and she found her sisters doing exactly that in the solar.
Jasmine and Skye were working on Skye’s loom. The youngest sister was not particularly talented on the frame and Jasmine was doing her best to repair the damage.
“What are you making, Skye?” Remington asked curiously. She couldn’t for the life of her tell what the figures were.
“I am trying to weave an Ariadne and a spider web,” Skye said insistently. “If Jasmine would leave me be, it would work out.”
Jasmine rolled her eyes, pulling at a piece of thread. “This is no spider web, Skye, unless it was woven by a drunk spider. And Ariadne looks as if her body has melted.”
Remington giggled at Skye’s embarrassment, opening her thin golden fan and waving it at herself swiftly. “Keep trying, sweetheart. You shall catch on.”
“What about Rory?” Jasmine asked, biting her tongue between her teeth in concentration.
Remington glanced through the narrow window that looked out over the bailey. “I intend to go and see her now, to make sure she isn’t melting herself.”
“Is the Dark Knight going to let her out?” Skye asked. She missed her closest sister.
Remington moved away from the window, fanning herself. “I do not know. He said he would consider it, I think.”
“Even after you tried to break her out?” Skye asked, wondering if the Dark Knight had punished Remington last night but was afraid to ask.
“I was not trying to free her, I was merely attempting to speak with her,” Remington insisted. “I was opening the door to go in, not let her out.”
“Did you tell de Russe that?” Jasmine had stopped her movements and was looking up at her.
“Nay,” Remington avoided her sister’s gaze. “I saw no point in it. He would not believe me, anyway.
“Well, I say there is no harm in trying,” Jasmine said. “He does not seem so quick to judge as Guy did.”
Remington almost cringed at the sound of her husband’s name. The more time passed, the more afraid she was that he would eventually return. They had been so happy in his absence and she couldn’t bear to think that life would again turn bitter when he came home. If he ever came home.
“Yesterday, de Russe told Dane that he would protect us from Guy,” she said softly, the hair on her face lifting gently from the fan as she gazed at the window pensively.
Jasmine and Skye looked shocked. “He did?” Jasmine said incredulously. “How can he say that?”
“I do not know,” Remington glanced at her sisters. “But he said it, and I believe him. I am not sure why I do, but I do.”
“He cannot protect us from Guy,” Jasmine went back to the loom, mayhap a bit angrily. “No one short of God can protect us.”
Remington watched her sisters a moment, wanting them to feel the same faith she did. “He is the Dark Knight, is he not? ’Tis said he is in league with the devil. Mayhap if God will not help us, the devil will.”
She turned and left the room, leaving her sisters pondering the future.
The inner bailey was full of men assisting the stonemasons. Sand and mortar was being distributed from a huge wagon and great stones for the building were being carefully carved and carted off.
Remington was surprised; she had no idea that there was so much going on in the double baileys and wondered if it would even be wise to bother the Dark Knight about something as trivial as her sister’s imprisonment.
Yet, for Rory’s sake, she went to seek the man out anyway and prayed his mood was forgiving this day.
She had never seen so many soldiers, all working like the innards of a great beehive.
She knew from Oleg that he had brought nearly 600 men to Mt.
Holyoak, but it seemed that every one of them was working at this very moment.
And there was not one man who did not pass her a suggestive or leering glance, making her most uncomfortable.
Remington swallowed hard, pushing her way through the men and into the outer bailey in search of Gaston.
One soldier almost dropped a great stone on her and she yelped in surprise, jumping out of the way just in time to avoid being smashed.
Fanning herself furiously over her fright, she stood a moment and scoped out the bailey for possible signs of the Dark Knight when her eyes came to rest on the very tall blond knight he always kept with him.
Bolstering her courage, she picked her way towards him.
Arik was surprised to find himself looking down at the entirely delectable and completely angelic Lady Stoneley. Flushed from the heat, she looked radiant and he gave her a non-committal smile.
“My lady, to what do I owe the honor?” he asked, pulling her toward him to allow a burdened soldier to pass by.
Remington waited until the soldier had moved by before stepping back a pace. “I am looking for Sir Gaston. Can you tell me where he is?”
“In the sublevels, my lady,” Arik answered. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“Not unless you can release my sister,” Remington answered.
Arik shook his head regretfully. “I surely cannot, my lady. Might I inform Gaston of your request to speak with him when he is finished?”
Remington looked disappointed, but she did not press. Pressing with Guy only got her slapped. “I would be grateful, my lord. But do not trouble yourself overly to deliver the message. I can wait.”
“My name is Arik,” he said. “And it would be no trouble at all.”
She smiled shyly, displaying her delightful dimples. “My thanks, Sir Arik. You have been most kind.”
“Not at all,” he returned her smile. God, she was a lovely creature.
And he knew that every man that saw her had the exact same thoughts, men with less self-control than himself.
“As a matter of fact,” he continued. “I was just about to return to the inner bailey. Might I escort you back to the castle?”
“Thank you, my lord,” Remington said demurely.
He extended his elbow and with great reluctance, she accepted. Together, they started back to the inner bailey.
“This weather is unusually hot,” Arik commented.
“Aye, but not the stickiness,” Remington replied. “Here in the vale, we are always prone to a great deal of moisture and insects.”
“I noticed,” Arik said, eyeing a swarm of gnats a few feet away. “Tell me, my lady, where is your family from?”
“Halsey Manor,” Remington replied. “When my father died four years ago, there was no one to inherit the place. It fell into my husband’s control but it sits empty now.”
“Is it close by?” he asked, looking down at her with interest.
“Mayhap seven or eight miles to the northeast,” she replied. “Not far.”
“Were you born there?”
“Aye, I was, as was my father,” she answered. “My mother was Irish from County Cork. Skye was born in Ireland.
“Ah,” Arik nodded. “So you are half Irish and half English. A lovely combination.”
Her reaction was to blush pleasingly, but his compliment instantly reminded her of Guy’s flattery and she hated it. Instead, she cleared her throat and changed the subject. “Where are you from?”
“My parents are Norse, settled in Kent just before I was born. I was their only son and they were adamant that I be an English knight. A noble profession.”
Remington thought of Dane, and of Charles. They, too, thought knighthood to be noble. She thought it was professional bloodlust.
They crossed into the inner bailey and Remington was nearly run over by a reckless wagon driver.
Arik snatched her against him to prevent her from being crushed, but she suddenly turned into a fighting cat and roughly yanked herself away from him.
She couldn’t stand to be held by a man, any man for that reason.
The wagon passed and Arik looked shocked. “I apologize, my lady, if I offended you. It was just that….”
Remington shook her head, backing away from him. “It was not your fault, truly. I just…I must return.”