Chapter Forty-Four #4
David lowered his gaze, his jaw ticking.
Marcus didn’t dare look at him, both of them feeling like naughty children being caught with their hand in the candy jar.
Marcus didn’t hate David, but he hated the animosity he was creating.
If David would only surmount his guilt and anger, he was sure his feelings would calm.
“Back to Canterbury with you on the morrow, de Lohr,” Richard said finally. “Go back and marry your Emilie and I will hear no more about you and Marcus Burton.”
“Aye, sire,” David said softly, bowing as he quit the hall.
Marcus passed a glance at Richard when David was gone, waiting to be dismissed also but surprised to find Richard staring at him.
“Do you love her, Marcus?” he asked softly. “Is she worth dying for?”
“Without a doubt, sire,” Marcus replied. “I love her with all my heart.”
Richard held his gaze a moment longer before shaking his head in resignation. “What is it about this woman? The two greatest knights who have ever lived love her, and I am frankly astonished. Why, Marcus? What makes her different?”
Marcus shrugged. “I can only tell you why I love her, sire, not why Christopher did. She is beautiful, innocent, compassionate, and spirited. She is everything a woman should be.”
Richard absorbed the answer, lowering his gaze to the tabletop. The seconds ticked away with deafening silence, but Marcus knew the conversation wasn’t over yet.
“Marcus, with Christopher gone, I am in need of a champion. Will you do this for your king?”
Marcus stared back at Richard a moment, unsure of what he had just heard. But the realization of it hit him and his eyes widened a bit. “You want me as your champion?” he repeated.
“You are the best knight in the realm; even David has acknowledged that,” Richard said. “I need you, I need your strength. Will you do this?”
Marcus did not know what to say. Being Richard’s champion was his lifelong ambition.
God, how long had he yearned to hear that question asked of him?
A lifetime, a bloody lifetime, but he found now he could not positively respond to it.
Being Richard’s champion would mean living in London, away from his keep.
Aye, Dustin would be with him, but he wouldn’t want her to bear the scandal that would surely fall upon her shoulders.
All who would see her would think that she certainly did not wait long to fall into Marcus’ arms after the death of her husband.
Nay, he could not allow Dustin to go through that.
Being Richard’s champion would mean fighting his battles at his side, as Christopher had done.
And Christopher was now dead. Marcus knew Dustin could not bear to be a widow twice in one lifetime, and he decided at that moment that living his life with her within the safety of his compound was greater glory than living by the sword as Richard’s right hand.
He could hardly believe he was about to turn his king down.
“Were you told that I agreed to champion John once?” Marcus asked quietly.
Richard nodded. “For which you received Somerhill. A clever ploy to gain lands, Marcus. I will admit it and it’s understandable. Yet I also know that you met with an unfortunate accident and were unable to champion my brother, but still you managed to retain your baronetcy.”
Marcus lifted his eyebrows. “I oft wondered how you would react to such knowledge, sire,” Marcus replied. “Even as I agreed to it, I deemed it a most treasonous act. I am grateful that you do not see it as such.”
“We all do what we must in this life to gain our own ends,” Richard said. “I am certainly guilty enough of that. But tell me now; will you be my champion?”
“Sire, as honored as I am that you have asked this of me, I am saddened that I must refuse,” he replied steadily. “My single greatest desire in life is to return home with Lady Dustin and her child, and live my life fully.”
Richard gazed at him a moment before giving an ironic chuckle. “This woman intrigues me that she would cause you to give up everything you have worked for in life. You are a soldier, Marcus, the very best. You would give this all up for her?”
“Aye, I would.” Marcus met his eyes clearly.
Richard sighed heavily, scratching at his unkempt hair. “Amazing. Well, then, I suppose there is nothing more to say. Are you sure of this, Marcus?”
“Verily, sire,” Marcus replied.
The king scratched his head again and stood up, moving stiffly around the table and toward Marcus. Marcus met his monarch tall and straight and proud.
“Mayhap if Lady Dustin is so great, I should make her my queen,” Richard joked. “Or, better yet, send her to Philip Augustus and bring down the entire French Empire.”
Marcus smiled. “You’d have to fight me for her, sire.”
Richard guffawed loudly and slapped Marcus on the shoulder. “Will you at least answer the call to battle if I send for you, Marcus? Can I expect your assistance?”
“Of course, sire,” Marcus replied. “I shall always bear a sword for you when asked.”
“But you will not champion me,” Richard prodded gently.
“Nay, my lord,” Marcus replied regretfully.
Richard shrugged and slapped Marcus again. “I could but try once more. Well, it would seem I am forced to choose a champion again. Who would be worthy of me, I wonder?”
Marcus gave his opinion as the two of them wandered from the hall.