Chapter Fifty-Six
Richard’s army was barely rested from their march from Windsor before they were mobilizing again in preparation of the siege of Nottingham. The summer morning dawned warm and clear as crystal, and Christopher was already sweating as he positioned the nearly two thousand troops.
It was good to be working with Marcus again, for the man was as capable as he when it came to tactics and intuition.
He knew where Christopher wanted the men and he knew exactly where to position the archers for maximum effectiveness.
It was no time before Christopher merely hung back and supervised while Marcus and David streamlined the massive army.
His heart swelled with pride as he watched his brother and his former friend, remembering what it had been like in the Holy Land.
David and Marcus were extensions of himself and he need not utter a word for them to know exactly what he wanted.
For the moment, the hostility and sorrow were forgotten as he watched his men work.
Edward and his other knights were serving Marcus and David well, making sure their orders were carried out.
The precise chain of command was perfect, as always, and Richard rode up astride his dark gray steed to watch the final preparations.
“Just like old times,” he remarked, watching Marcus and David work like a fine-tuned team. “I’d almost forgotten.”
“I never thought to see this again,” Christopher said softly. “Marcus and David have been working together for over two hours and nary a harsh word between them.”
Richard gave a wry smile. “Amazing.”
They watched the last of the archers being positioned and then Edward and Sean began moving the wagons into place.
“Darren should have found Dustin by now,” Christopher said. “He rode into Nottingham yesterday morning and I would think he has had ample time to locate her.”
“Most likely,” Richard agreed. “But I am concerned for the lad. He is not a spy, you know. He is taking a great risk.”
“He is an intelligent boy,” Christopher said. “I have faith that he will be cautious.”
“Nevertheless, you know I was not very agreeable on the proposal,” Richard said firmly. “I do not know what possible good he can do except to get himself caught. Then we shall have one more person to rescue.”
“I trust Darren, Richard,” Christopher said softly. “He has proven himself many a time, and I trust him.”
“But do you trust him with your wife’s life?” Richard asked, shaking his head. “I cannot believe you would send a seventeen-year-old squire into the pit of hell and expect him to perform as a knight.”
“I shall knight him next year myself, and I will be proud to have him in my stable.” Christopher looked at Richard. “Don’t you trust my judgment when it comes to warriors?”
“Of course.” Richard waved him off. “It is just that he’s not a full-fledged knight yet and…
.oh, hell, I don’t know. There are too many people to worry over.
Darren certainly cannot protect your wife if John sets his sights on her.
To do that would be to kill a prince of England, and I will not allow it. ”
Christopher put up a hand in supplication. “Darren’s orders are to shadow Dustin and protect her from harm, not to kill John. Richard, I simply feel better having him with her if I cannot be. I thought you understood that yesterday?”
“I understand,” he muttered. “I understand that I am growing soft and that you are going mad.”
Christopher chuckled. Then, he sobered and changed the subject. “Marcus and I talked last night.”
“And?” Richard looked at him.
Christopher sighed. “He says he will not fight me for Dustin anymore.”
“Do you believe him?” Richard asked.
“I don’t know,” Christopher replied. “He’s lied to me before where my wife is concerned, so I suppose time will tell.”
Richard studied the face of his mighty Defender. “You look tired. Did you sleep?”
“Barely,” Christopher said. “I shall sleep when Dustin is safe beside me.”
Richard did not say anything, glancing at his army as David raced like hellfire the length of the column for some unknown reason. He could hear the knight yelling.
“That fool is going to kill himself one day doing that,” he murmured, then looked at Christopher again. “That wound has taxed you greatly, hasn’t it? You are still not completely well and this march is draining your strength.”
Christopher drew in a deep, slow breath, looking to his king. “I shall admit that I do not feel as strong as I am used to, but I will eventually. I am well enough to raze Nottingham and retrieve my wife.”
Richard shook his head. “You are either the bravest man alive or the biggest idiot. Who would have thought you would raze a castle for anything less than my glory?”
They shared a small chuckle. “Not I, Richard, and well you know it,” Christopher said. “My devotion to you was legendary.”
Richard’s smile faded. “You say that as if it were a thing of the past. You are still my Defender and champion, Chris. I shall not release you from your duties.”
Christopher shrugged and gazed back over the army. “You will have to while I heal completely. I would suggest David or Marcus in my stead.”
“David is a wild man,” Richard snorted. “And Marcus is too caught up in his own personal problems. Damnation, when did things become so complicated? I think I shall return to Jerusalem; the situation was a lot less complex.”
Christopher laughed softly. “I shall send word to Philip and Henry and make sure they meet you when you set foot on the continent,” he jested.
Richard snorted again, louder. “Hell yes,” he agreed. “Why not have them add to my problems?”
Christopher smiled broadly at his king when a loud whistle pierced the air and he saw David give him the high sign, indicating the army was ready to move. Christopher lifted his mailed fist in response.
“We are ready, sire,” he said to Richard. “At your command.”
Richard gazed out over his army, drinking in the sight of the power under him.
“I have spent most of my life fighting,” he mumbled.
“I know nothing else. My army is my family and the battlefield, my home.” He latched his helmet.
“I envy you, Chris, that you would find something more to this life than dying and fighting and blood. That you would find love is an amazing accomplishment indeed, and I will most likely never know the joy.” He paused, looking to Christopher as he gathered his reins. “Let us get your wife back.”
Christopher slammed his visor down in response. Richard watched a change come over the man, as visible as the rising sun. He morphed from the concerned husband to pure warrior.
Richard watched the transformation with satisfaction; this was the Christopher he knew and loved.
The Christopher he had grown to know over the past few days confused him greatly, for it was almost as if it weren’t the same man.
The new Christopher felt emotion and showed depth of character, admirable traits indeed, but confusing when one considered that the man had never shown emotion before.
Richard had felt disoriented until this moment, this was his Defender.
This was Christopher de Lohr, the greatest warrior since Galahad or Lancelot. He was the legend.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Christopher broke into his thoughts.
Richard suddenly realized he was smiling. Clearing his throat, he put his faceplate down. “No reason,” he muttered.
Marcus and David thundered up, followed closely by Edward, Dud, and the rest of the knights. They all stood atop the slight rise, gazing down on the mightiest army England had ever seen assembled, and nodded with gratification.
“My loyal knights,” said Richard. He loved to give pre-battle speeches, but he found this morning that none came to mind. He decided to speak what he felt. “I am deeply pleased that we are together, fighting as one body again. May victory be ours!”
All of the knights responded by the customary cry, “God and King Richard!” and spurred their destriers from the crest, riding to their positions along the column. Only Christopher and his king would ride in front, leading the troops to certain glory.
*
Dustin was shaken and encouraged by her encounter with Darren.
Thrilled that Christopher was alive and wildly relieved that he was coming for her, she tried to maintain a calm attitude for the benefit of her captors.
She was tremendously eager to remove Christin from harm’s way and thanked God for sending Darren to her.
She could take care of herself, but she was terrified for Christin’s safety.
Terrified that somehow John would take advantage of the infant.
The afternoon passed and the heat was bearable, but sticky.
In her condition, she was always hot and felt miserable and damp as she dressed Christin in a durable linen outfit that would protect her and wear well.
She doubled her nappy so she wouldn’t leak all over Darren as he carried her to safety, and put a matching hat on her head to protect her little ears and scalp.
Christin, hating anything on her head, kept pulling it off until Dustin gave her a piece of dry bread to chew on to distract her.
Dustin felt as if the Devil were nipping at her heels and her sense of urgency was paramount.
She did not know why, but it was as if an unseen force was pushing her, making her race against herself to get her daughter out of Nottingham.
She was almost panicked in her urgency, but she forced herself to calm for Christin’s sake.
How would she explain Christin’s absence to John and her grandfather?
Surely they would demand to know where the child was.
She would simply have to think of a logical, believable explanation, at least until Christopher and the army arrived.
After that, she did not care. Christin would be safe and that was all that mattered.