Chapter Nine #3
“Let us eat in our room,” he said. “I do not wish to share you with these ruffians out here.”
“But…,” Derica looked disappointed. “Very well, then. If that is your wish.”
He barely got her to the stairs before the knights were on them. Derica was on the first step when the growling voice came.
“Le Mon.”
Garren was cool. He turned, placing himself between his wife and the knights. The men tossed their cloaks off, revealing the swarthy features of one and the clean shaven features of the other. Garren immediately recognized them, and his heart sank. He knew them both, and not on good terms.
“De Claare,” he wanted them to know that he was not off-guard. “I see you have brought your trained dog with you.”
The swarthier knight snarled in response, but the other, a man with short black hair, smiled thinly.
“Torres is indeed a dog,” he said. “And he bites. Imagine finding you here in the wilds of Northampton. What are you doing so far from Chepstow?”
“Nothing worthy of your notice.”
“Ah, but you are in my territory. My liege is Leicester and you, my friend, are far from the support of Richard’s great Chancellor. I am sure my liege will be very interested to know you are here.”
“Leicester is a traitor. He defiles England with the very air he breathes.”
“A matter of opinion.” De Claare cocked an eyebrow. “Tell me something, le Mon; why would a knight of your reputation and stature fight for a king that has barely set foot on English soil? I do not understand it.”
“That is because you are too stupid to realize the truth.” Compounding his current concerns was the fact that Derica was hearing tantalizing clues to his true self. “Leave peaceably now and you leave with your life, de Claare. I shall not make the offer again.”
De Claare shook his head. “When last we met at that skirmish at Corfe Castle and you forced my men to surrender before the Marshal’s armies, I told you that if I saw you again I would kill you. I meant it.”
Garren smiled humorlessly. “You could not do it then, even when you outnumbered us two to one. What makes you think you can do it now?”
De Claare’s gaze moved to Derica, standing on the steps above her husband. He pointed at her. “Your lady wife, I presume?”
Garren’s sword came out faster than the blink of an eye. “I was merciful on the battlefield at Corfe. Mention the lady again and my mercy is at an end.”
The two knights laughed in sinister fashion. Behind Garren, Derica came down to stand behind her husband. He felt her hand on his shoulder.
“Come with me, now,” she murmured in his ear. “We’ll bolt the door and wait for them to go away. Please, Garren.”
“She is a delightful morsel, le Mon,” de Claare said. “A gift for your faithful service, no doubt.”
Garren knew there would be no getting rid of them until someone’s blood was spilt. “Go back to the room and lock the door, sweetheart,” he told her. “Do not open it for anyone but me, and do not come down here no matter what you hear. Is that clear?”
Derica’s heart filled with terror. She’d been around warring men too long and knew what they were capable of. And she was also smart enough to know that her presence was a distraction in a vocation where distraction could be deadly.
“Please, Garren,” she was beginning to cry. “Come with me. Leave them here.”
Garren could feel her fear. “I cannot. Please, go. I beg you.”
Derica would not argue with him, though she desperately wanted to. She looked at the men threatening her husband, hating them with every fiber her small body possessed.
“Then if you are to fight him, allow him to regain his armor,” she said strongly. “You are fully protected and fully armed. There is nothing honorable about fighting a knight without his protection.”
Garren took his eyes off his opponents in an attempt to hush her, but de Claare spoke first.
“The lady knows something of knights,” he said. “Have you, perchance, had much experience with them?”
Torres and a few men surrounding them snickered lewdly. Derica could feel her anger outweighing her fear.
“My father and uncles and brothers are knights,” she growled. “The House of de Rosa is well known for their fighting.”
De Claare’s smile vanished. “De Rosa?” he repeated. “You are of the House of de Rosa?”
“Bertram de Rosa is my father.”
The knight was clearly puzzled. He looked at Garren. “You married into the House of de Rosa?” he asked, incredulous. “Le Mon, could it be that your loyalties have changed?”
“They have not.”
“But you married your enemy’s daughter.”
“I married a woman whom I adore. And our marriage is none of your affair.”
De Claare and his knight were confused. They wanted Garren in the worst way, yet they were unwilling to provoke the wrath of de Rosa.
Anyone who supported John Lackland, as Leicester and Norfolk did, knew of the warring de Rosa clan.
To attack a member of that clan, even a daughter’s enemy husband, would cause problems and it was a chance de Claare did not want to take.
With a long look, the knights backed away. Sheathing their swords, they quit the inn without another word. Garren stood, sword still in hand, watching the door to make sure they did not return. He was not surprised the de Rosa name had held such weight with them.
“Come on,” Derica said quietly. “Let us return to our room. They will not come back.”
Garren’s eyes lingered on the door a moment longer.
When he turned to follow his wife up the stairs, she was already half way to the top.
Entering their room on her heels, he closed the door quietly and bolted it, wondering what he was going to say to her in explanation to she had just heard. He prayed that she would understand.
Carefully, he set his weapon against the wall. “Derica,” he began hesitantly. “I know you heard things that might have confused you. I would like to explain, if you would allow me.”
Derica stood by the window, peering through the oilcloth as her husband had done earlier. “I think they have left.” She let the oilcloth fall back and looked at him. “I told you once that it didn’t matter to me if you were a spy or not. It still doesn’t.”
He felt more relief than words could express, but she deserved to know all of it. He sat down on the mattress and motioned her over. When she came close, he pulled her down onto his lap and held her tightly, just for a moment.
“Whether or not it matters, you deserve to know all of it,” he said quietly. “Few people know what I am about to tell you, simply because my life would be in jeopardy if the truth were widely known. But as my wife, it is your right.”
Derica curled up on his lap. “Is it awful?”
“That depends.”
“Was my father right about you being a spy, then? Did I unwittingly lie for you?”
He paused. “Aye.”
Surprisingly, she wasn’t upset by the knowledge. He was being honest with her, for better or for worse.
“I have been in Richard’s service for many years,” he said.
“In my younger days, I fought for him in France as well as in England. I fought for him against his father, against his brothers, and in support of both his father and his brothers. Sometimes royal families have a strange sense of loyalty.”
“Go on.”
“Some time ago, I went into the service of William Marshal. William is not only Richard’s chancellor, he is his most ardent supporter. In doing so, he retains experienced knights like me for tasks he considers vital to Richard’s rule.”
“Like what?”
“Anything that conventional means cannot accomplish. I do what is necessary to further Richard’s cause, be it on the battlefield or in a more covert venue.”
Derica thought a moment. “My father is a supporter of the king’s brother.”
“I know.”
“Then I would guess that your coming to Framlingham was in the line of duty. You were sent to spy on my father.”
“Aye.”
“And you were to marry me to accomplish that.”
He looked her in the eye. “That was the original plan,” he said.
“But, as you can see, it did not turn out that way. Somewhere in the process of accomplishing my mission, I fell in love with you and my motives for the Marshal were forgotten. For you, I am willing to risk everything I have ever been, everything I have ever believed in. I could not and would not betray you, not even for the sake of my king.”
Derica fell silent, her mind whirling with this new information. She stroked his neck, the back of his head, feeling his soft hair drift through her fingers.
“Richard,” she murmured.
“What about him?”
She lifted her shoulders, weakly. “I was simply thinking that all of the talk that you were in the Holy Land with the king was a lie.”
“For necessity’s sake, it was.”
“And your father; was he in on the deception?”
“It was difficult for him to be less than truthful with his friend, your father, but he was indeed a part of the deception for my sake. It was by sheer coincidence that my father and your father knew each other.”
“Then I suppose I should be angry about all of this.”
“I would not fault you if you were.”
Her expression grew thoughtful as she tried to put together the pieces to the puzzle. “And Fergus? Does he work for the Marshal, too?”
“No. He has no knowledge of the truth of my vocation and I prefer to keep it that way.”
She looked at him, his strong face and beautiful eyes.
After a moment, she simply shook her head.
“It is my opinion that politics are a deadly game and something I have no use for, and it does not please me that you are involved in such intrigue. But I understand that you must do as you must.” She smiled, timidly.
“Perhaps I am a stupid woman and simply cannot see past my emotions, but I cannot hate you for this.”
It was more than he had hoped for. With a sigh of relief, he kissed her deeply. “I am so sorry I lied to you in the vault,” he murmured against her lips. “I did not want to, but I saw no other way at the time. Your father was prepared to hang me.”
“I do not care about any of that,” she whispered. “All that matters is that you are truthful with me now and will forever be so. Promise me, Garren.”
“I swear it.”
They held each other, tightly, and Garren thanked God for the sense to marry this amazing woman.
He settled back on the bed with her clutched against his chest, thinking about nothing in particular beyond what had just occurred.
He knew there would be other nights like this one, coming up against people who wanted to see him come to harm.
He was glad Derica knew the truth, and tremendously glad for her strength.
He knew he would need it in times to come.
“Garren?”
“What, sweetheart?”
“Does the Marshal know what’s happened? With me, I mean.”
“No.”
“You must tell him.”
“I will as soon as I am able. But my greater concern right now is getting us to a safe haven.”
Derica sat up, looking at him. She suddenly looked like a child, small and vulnerable. “I am afraid,” she said. “What will happen if…?”
He put his fingers on her lips. “Hush, now,” he murmured. “No fears. The Marshal will be sated and your family will eventually come to terms. Everything will turn out fine, given time. We simply need to let the situation cool a bit.”
Derica lay back down against his warm, comforting chest. She didn’t want to voice her doubts. Though she heard his words, she wasn’t sure she agreed.