Chapter Eighteen #5
Lady Lucinda looked as if she were about to retort but thought better of it. In a swish of blue silk and finery, the ladies swept away with their noses in the air and disappeared back into the crowd. Dustin made a face and turned her back on them.
“Bitches,” she snapped, reaching for more wine.
Leeton and Edward put their great mailed gloves together and clapped slowly, appreciating the lady’s bravado. She grinned at them and they laughed softly. Even Marcus was smiling.
“You did well with your first test,” he said, taking the goblet from her.
“Test? Was that a test?” she asked, frowning as he set her drink down.
“Of course,” he replied, holding out his elbow to her. “Now they will go back and tell their friends and all will think twice before confronting you again.”
“Hmpf,” Dustin snorted, taking his arm. “It wasn’t much of a test. I need someone better to sharpen my claws on.”
Marcus chortled, leading her from the room. “Let me get you out of here before you turn the whole room into one giant ruckus.”
The halls of Windsor were dim and silent as they made their way back to the apartments. Dustin clutched Marcus and Edward, feeling the floor beneath her rolling about and wondering why she could not keep her footing.
Edward had to practically carry her up the stairs and she giggled the whole way up, banging on his plate armor and singing a crazy tune. When he set her down at the top of the stairs, she laughed loudly and whirled away from him, right into Marcus’ chest.
Marcus caught her with his good arm, grinning as he straightened her out and they resumed their trek.
Tipsy as she was, she began to dance and bounce her way down the hall, crowing about her first victory with the court wenches and insisting that the knights, all five of them, sing her praises.
They did and she threw up her arms in triumph.
“Where is my husband?” she said, falling against Marcus and grabbing his armor, causing him to lose his balance.
“I do not know,” he answered truthfully, regaining his feet and trying to keep her from falling. “I am sure he shall return shortly.”
“Marcus!” She grabbed his neck, trying to force him to look her in the eye. “Where is he?”
Edward could see that Marcus was at a disadvantage and grabbed Dustin around the waist, pulling her off of him. “He is seeing to business, Dustin,” Edward said steadily. “Do not worry about it.”
“I am not,” she insisted, stumbling when he set her down.
“I just want to know where he is.” Her knees gave way a little and she fell against Edward, who wrapped his arms about her instinctively to keep her from going down.
She looked up at him, a silly-sweet smile on her lips.
“Thank you, Eddie. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie!”
Edward chuckled in spite of himself and picked her up, knowing they would never make it to the apartments if she kept on like this.
He hoped Christopher wouldn’t be angry that they allowed her to get drunk; truthfully, they hadn’t even noticed the amount of wine she imbibed.
Hopefully, she would sleep most of it off before her husband returned.
They were approaching the apartments and the hall seemed particularly dim. Several of the torches were out and Marcus found it peculiar that there were no soldiers on guard out in the hall. He put up his hand, halting the group, and shushed Dustin loudly when she tried to question him.
“Dud, Trent,” he motioned to the knights. “Clear the way.”
Unsheathing swords, the two knights cautiously made their way up the hall and toward the door. They nearly disappeared in the darkness, the reflection of the torchlight catching their armor here and there. Edward put Dustin down, moving for his own sword as he watched the knights up ahead.
“What do you think?” he asked Marcus.
Marcus shook his head, his cobalt-blue eyes intense. “I am not sure, but the absence of soldiers cannot be good. There should be at least a half-dozen men guarding the door.”
Dustin pushed herself forward, her head hurting and the floor moving. “I want to go to bed. What are you doing?”
Marcus grabbed her before she could move forward. “Making sure all is safe for you, my lady,” he said evenly.
There was a richly clothed chair against the wall. Edward gently sat her in it, making sure he was standing directly next to her should anything happen because he, like Marcus, was leery of the darkened hall.
In the darkness up ahead came a crash of metal on metal and a groan of pain followed. Marcus, Edward and Leeton had their swords in hand, ready to do battle when they saw that their enemy was none other than John’s cockroaches, his elite force. Urgently, Marcus turned to Edward.
“Get her out of here,” he ordered.
“Nay, Marcus,” Edward countered. “If we can get her into the rooms and bolt the door, she will be safe. Besides, I cannot leave you. You are compromised.”
Dustin, jolted from her drunken stupor, shot off the chair with a yelp of surprise.
Soldiers in black and green charged forward, immediately clashing with the three knights and Dustin found herself cringing behind Marcus as he fended of several soldiers with his left hand.
With every blow she gave a little gasp of fear, feeling the concussion through Marcus’ body.
Even with his good arm useless, Marcus was remarkable.
He found himself fending off an onslaught of soldiers, too many to count, but he knew they were in grave danger.
He could hear Dud yelling something but could not make out the words and beside him, Leeton and Edward were fighting for their lives.
He knew very early on that they had to get Dustin out of there; there were simply too many soldiers for them to hold off.
Behind him, he heard yelling of a familiar sort.
David raced up the hall with his sword in hand and plunged into the turmoil, his sword flashing like bolts from heaven.
The man was as fast and as furious as a madman, his well-aimed strokes striking down men where they stood.
Yet even with the considerable addition of David, they were still badly outnumbered.
Marcus retreated slowly with Dustin tucked behind him, trying to fight his way free of the rolling mass of fury as he hustled Dustin to safety.
He could feel her hands gripping him tightly about the waist.
There were at least two dozen men against the six of them, impossible odds even for the best of knights. Dustin was terrified; all she could think of was running for help or finding a weapon to help in the defense.
Then it occurred to her; down the hall and high on the wall were a display of weaponry, arranged quite artfully.
Her mind’s eye focused on the mace she knew was there and she was seized with hope that if she could retrieve the mace, she could help her knights.
She had used a mace before; Jeffrey had taught her when he had showed her how to use the pick axe and the sword.
Trouble was that it was damn heavy and she wasn’t even sure if she could be effective, but no matter; she had to try. Releasing Marcus, she charged back down the hall in a fit of panic.
The mace was there as she remembered. Breathing heavily, she pulled a chair across the corridor and stood on it, ripping the spiky ball-on-a-chain off the wall and nearly falling off the chair with her effort.
As she knew, it was terribly heavy, but she heaved it over her shoulder and jumped off the chair, tearing the maroon surcoat with one of the spikes and causing her shoulder to bleed as she tore back down the hall, anxiety filling her.
She was close to tears of horror and did not realize that by the time she returned to the fight, hot tears were already streaming down her pale cheeks.
Dustin took no time to pick and choose her targets. With a yell that a Scot would have been proud of, she swung the mace over her head a few times to gain momentum and plowed it into the first enemy soldier she came to. The helmet caved in and smashed his skull into fragments.
Dustin didn’t even stop to see what her handiwork had caused; she continued to swing the mace, killing two more unsuspecting soldiers before one man actually turned on her, brandishing his sword high.
Dustin didn’t back down in the least; she swung the mace again and aimed well, but she ended up entangling the chain in the soldier’s sword.
In a panic, she tugged as hard as she could to release it, but the man’s strength was greater and he nearly tore her arms from her sockets yanking the mace from her grip.
He snapped his sword sideways, disentangling the mace and bringing the sword to bear once again on Dustin. She was momentarily stunned; all she could do was stare back at the soldier who held her life in his hands.
She could hear shouting going on and suddenly there was a man standing beside the soldier in front of her. The visor to the faceplate went up and she found herself face to face with Ralph Fitz Walter. His bruised, circled eyes glittered evilly at her and Dustin knew she was trapped.
“My lady looks ravishing as always,” he said as easily as if they were at a social gathering. “Accompany me and I shall spare your husband’s knights.”
Dustin knew that if she went with Ralph, she might never see the sun rise again.
After what had happened this afternoon, she knew he would seek revenge on Christopher.
Panic surged in her chest and she stumbled backwards, her mind completely blank except for the lone thought of escaping the sheriff.
“Nay!” Ralph screamed as she moved, unable to grab hold of her. As Ralph pushed forward, the soldier, thinking Ralph had just given him the order to kill the lady, brought the sword down and buried five or six inches of the blade lengthwise in the top of Dustin’s left thigh.