Chapter Four #2
“Nothing, my lord,” Edward turned back to the parchment, confident his point was well taken.
Now that Christopher had doubts about his wife going to Nottingham, hopefully he would conclude that the only logical thing was to keep her at Lioncross or take her with him to London.
Of course it was none of Edward’s business what Christopher did with Dustin, but somehow, he thought she might need her husband.
After all, she had just lost her mother and her father, and Christopher was the closest living relative she had.
He just didn’t think they should be apart.
Christopher watched his friend’s dark head, glancing up at the big man on the wall. He didn’t know why the thought of Jeffrey near his wife bothered him so, but it did. Confused and irritated, he turned back to his task, silently cursing Edward for getting him worked up over nothing.
Not an hour later, he heard sentries shouting and immediately mounted the ladder to the wall, jogging in the direction the men were indicating. When he reached the northwest corner of the wall, a worried soldier met him.
“Riders, my lord,” he breathed.
Christopher peered in the direction the man was pointing, straining his eyes against the sun. It was a moment before he could make out the little group of riders crossing the distant field, heading toward them. Being that they were on the Welsh Marches, he was alerted.
“Welsh?” he turned to the sentry.
The man nodded. “We get raiding parties on occasion, my lord,” he replied. “Just rebels, in faith, but we still must keep them from the village. They like to steal goods and women.”
“Christ,” Christopher muttered, turning to Edward over his shoulder. “Assemble fifty men and find my brother and the other knights. We ride.”
The bailey turned into a hive of activity as soldiers donned their protective gear and the knights began assembling. Christopher dashed to his quarters, quickly acquiring his armor, and then hustled back down to the bailey to find that his steed had already been saddled and was waiting for him.
Leeton, David, Max and Anthony, and Edward were quickly getting the men assembled and moving. Christopher shoved his helmet on and mounted his dancing destrier, glancing in Leeton’s direction.
“So it seems that you and I are to ride to service together once again,” he remarked.
Leeton nodded. “I have decided to stay here awhile, if it pleases you,” he said. “I always did enjoy a good fight with you guarding my rear. Max and Anthony are ready to swear fealty to you as well, as they are bachelor knights. Any objections?”
Underneath his faceplate, Christopher smiled. He was more than pleased. “I will have the best knight stable in all of England,” he answered. “Even Richard shall be jealous.”
Leeton was preparing to reply when a shout from atop the wall interrupted him.
“Do you know where your wife is, my lord?” Jeffrey called.
Christopher looked up at the man. “You must, or you would not be asking me,” he replied loudly, coolly. “Where is she?”
Jeffrey didn’t answer for a moment. “In the village,” he said. “She left two hours ago and has yet to return. What kind of husband are you that you do not keep track of your wife? You had better get to her before the Welsh do.”
“Bastard,” Leeton muttered.
Christopher didn’t reply. He spurred his horse through the gate, yelling orders to the sergeant in charge to close the gates after the brigade had passed through.
As he tore into the village, he was suddenly aware of a curious pounding of his heart.
Be it at the excitement or because he was concerned for his wife’s safety, he could not be sure.
But he knew he had to find her. The thought of Dustin in Welsh hands drove him crazed with anger.
*
Dustin had indeed left Lioncross in the early afternoon to do a bit of shopping in the village.
She had been toying with the idea of a few new dresses, purely for appearance sake, but firmly decided that she should now that she would be traveling to Nottingham.
All of her dresses were simple peasant clothes, with the exception of the blue surcoat she had worn yesterday.
Even her wedding dress had been borrowed from her mother, but it had been far too small in the bustline.
But before she did any haggling with the merchants, she went to Rebecca’s small hut near the edge of town.
Rebecca’s mother was a midwife and her father farmed a small plot of land, which he sold vegetables from.
It had been the first time she had seen Rebecca since yesterday, and the young woman’s mouth fell open at everything that had transpired in that brief span of time.
She was driven to tears by the enormity of it all, yet controlled herself for Dustin’s sake.
Her friend looked as if she had taken all she could.
Rebecca was glad to go shopping with Dustin, just the thing to get their minds from their troubles. Though Rebecca had little money, she did have an eye for taste and quality, and in no time had three fine bolts of material selected from a nearby merchant.
“Now, just who will sew these dresses, Dustin?” Rebecca asked pointedly as they carried their burden from the shop.
Dustin grinned. “You, of course.”
Rebecca rolled her eyes. “I knew it. And what do I get out of it?”
“I shall pay you, Rebecca, have no fear,” Dustin replied. “But you will have to have them finished by tomorrow, for that’s when I plan to leave.”
Rebecca’s smile faded. “Nottingham. ’Tis so far away, Dustin. Do you truly have to go?”
Dustin watched the ground as they walked. “Aye, I do. I will not stay here longer than I have to.”
“But he did not seem so cruel,” Rebecca offered hesitantly. “Mayhap he is a kind man if you will only give him a chance.”
“I do not want to give him a chance,” Dustin snapped.
“He is your husband for life, Dustin,” Rebecca reminded her. “Will you go through your whole life avoiding and hating him?”
“Mayhap,” Dustin lifted her chin defiantly. “He does not want me, either, Rebecca. He told me so. He doesn’t even know where I am at this moment because he does not care.”
“Every man wants you, Dustin,” her friend said wryly. “And mayhap he could care if you would just be a bit more.…”
“Stop,” Dustin told her curtly. “I do not want to speak of this anymore. What kind of dresses are you making me?”
The women chatted and stopped at the bakers for sticky honey bread with currants in it, being careful not to get any on the fabric. The next stop was the cobblers, and before Dustin realized it, the entire afternoon had passed her by.
She felt better than she had earlier. Rebecca always lifted her spirits.
She tried hard to forget this was the day she buried her mother.
But as the day began to wane, she knew she had to return to Lioncross.
She wondered if her husband would expect her to serve him dinner tonight.
She would, as a show of thanks for allowing her to travel to Nottingham.
But in the deep recesses of her mind she wondered if he would expect more this night.
He was, after all, her husband. It was her duty as a wife to couple with him to produce heirs.
It was a frightening thought, for she knew little of coupling, and it was all the more terrifying to think that her husband’s cold demeanor would carry over into the bedchamber.
She had heard from some of the serving wenches that knights could be most rough in bed, even abusive.
She wondered if he was the abusive type.
“Why are you so quiet?” Rebecca broke into her thoughts.
Dustin shrugged, gazing up at Lioncross as it loomed over the village like a huge sentinel. “Just thinking, I suppose. Rebecca, what do you know about coupling?”
Rebecca looked thoughtful. “I know it keeps my mother in business,” she laughed. “I know that it can be painful the first time, for the woman, but some say they gain pleasure from it. Why? What was it like?”
“I do not know,” Dustin admitted. “He hasn’t… that is to say, we slept apart last night. Mayhap I can avoid him until I leave for Nottingham. I do not wish to do that with him.”
Rebecca nodded. “He is a big brute, the biggest man I have ever seen,” she agreed. “I do not blame you for being frightened.”
“I am not frightened,” Dustin insisted. “I simply do not want him to touch me.”
Rebecca shook her head. Dustin had a great amount of dislike for her new husband, yet she could hardly blame her.
The sun was low in the sky but just as intense as the two women made their way back to Rebecca’s tidy little hut.
Rebecca’s mother had a huge pot of lamb stew bubbling over the hearth and the rich smells made Dustin’s stomach rumble.
Knowing she would most likely lose her appetite tonight when she was forced to serve her husband, she heartily agreed to the older woman’s offer of food and ate two bowls of the thick soup.
It was a pleasant meal as they ate and discussed the dresses Rebecca would make.
Dustin had purchased dark gold brocade, a lavender silk, and a heavier wine-colored silk.
Rebecca had some grand ideas about sleeves and bustlines, and Dustin agreed to everything she suggested.
Knowing nothing about fashion or clothes herself, she would agree to anything.
Dustin was comforted by the two familiar women, her grief easing somewhat with the hominess of the hut and the pleasant conversation.
She had always liked it here, and Rebecca’s mother, Eve, had always been very kind to her.
The older woman was most distressed to hear of the events from the previous day and took to brewing Dustin a concoction of chamomile, rosehips and honey to soothe her mind and stomach.
It was just before dusk when Rebecca’s father entered the hut, his ruddy face glazed with concern. His fears were doubled when he saw that the mistress of Lioncross sat at his hearth.
“Oh lord, my lady,” he exclaimed.