Chapter Nine #9
Leeton was still downstairs, staring moodily into his cup of ale. Christopher strolled up beside him, wondering why he had not retired yet.
“You are still up?” he asked Leeton.
The big knight turned ale-sotted eyes to his liege. “Aye, still.”
Christopher could see the man’s moody expression and he knew why. Leeton drank too much and he was forever emotional about Rachel. “Go to bed, Leeton,” he said quietly. “We leave before dawn and I need you alert.”
Leeton sighed, belched, and set down the cup.
“You know, Chris, it’s on nights like these that I miss her the most,” he said softly.
“Rachel always loved the rain; in fact, she liked to run around in it and was forever catching a chill. And when I saw your wife tonight, the way she acted with spirit and with determination, it reminded me of Rachel again. Sometimes I think my grief will consume me.”
Christopher patted his friend’s shoulder gently, not knowing how to reply. Leeton stood up, weaving unsteadily.
“Will it ever go away, Chris?” he whispered beseechingly. “Or will I go to my grave with this agony in my heart?”
“It will fade, with time,” Christopher replied quietly. “All memories fade with time.”
“But if something were to happen to Dustin, would you be able to go on with your life as if she never existed?” Leeton pressed.
Christopher gazed back at him with uncertainty. “Of course not, but things are different with Dustin. You married Rachel because you loved her. I married Dustin because I had to.”
“But you care for her, I know you do,” Leeton said. “I have seen the way you are with her, and I’d venture to say that you are growing to love your wife. If she were to die, could you live with it?”
Christopher was growing increasingly off balance. “Go to bed, Leeton.”
Leeton reached out and grabbed Christopher by his tunic, his drunk eyes awash with sorrow. “Sometimes I can’t stand it anymore. I want to die.”
Christopher snatched his friend’s armor, giving him a firm shake.
“You will not think that way, do you hear? You have a son to live for, Leeton. Do you think Rachel would approve of the way you are wallowing in self-pity, leaving your son to be raised by his grandparents?” He shook Leeton again, forcing the man to look at him.
“Come to grips with yourself, man, or you are of no use to anyone.”
Leeton stared back at his liege, his tears fading and his body going limp.
“If it were Dustin, could you come to grips with it? What if she bore you a son that was the image of her and every time you looked at him, you felt your grief run fresh? Can you honestly tell me that you would ever be the same man again?”
Their blue eyes met with ferocious intensity, reading into each other’s minds. Christopher was fully prepared to deny everything that had just been asked of him, but found in his heart that he could not. He released his hold on Leeton.
“Nay,” he replied simply. “I would not be. Damnation, Leeton, since I married her, there are times when I do not even recognize myself. Now, go to bed. I will help you.”
Christopher half-carried Leeton up the stairs to the chamber he shared with David. David, sound asleep and snoring loudly, was sprawled out over one small bed so Christopher sat Leeton down on the other. He undressed the man down to his breeches and pushed him back on the pillow.
He stood there a moment, gazing down at his once-mighty friend.
So many thoughts were rolling through his head…
is that what loving a woman did to a man?
Sapping his will to live and destroying his soul?
If that was the case, then Christopher wanted no part of it.
He could not allow himself to love Dustin.
Confused and frustrated, he quit the chamber.
Marcus was asleep in the next room. Christopher burst in, startling the man into brandishing his sword until he saw who his intruder was. Christopher smiled wryly and threw a tunic at him.
“Get up,” he commanded softly. “We have much to discuss.”
Marcus blinked, clearing his eyes as he sat up and pulled the woolen tunic over his head. He yawned. “So did you give your wife the lashing she deserved?”
“Tongue-lashing, yes,” Christopher said, pouring himself a cup of wine. “I did spank her, once, but that was only because she gave me no choice.”
Marcus chuckled. “Is she always that outspoken?” He was referring to her confrontation with the hostile knights.
Christopher drained his cup. “Always, Marcus,” he said with weary irritation. “Arthur let her do anything she damn well pleased and never disciplined her in the least. Unfortunately, that left me with a job on my hands.”
“Who cares?” Marcus stood up, easily as tall as Christopher. “If my wife were that beautiful, I would put up with a spoiled nature, too. It was a true pleasure to watch her earlier this evening as she spoke with the serving wench and the innkeeper. She is a lively one.”
“Aye, she is.” Christopher wanted to stop talking about his wife and get to the business at hand. “There is a stable outside. We will speak out there.”