Chapter Eight #2
Mathias kept his composure, although it was beginning to fracture. “You know why. He was my uncle. I had no choice. In order to please my dying mother, I promised her that I would support her sister’s husband.”
Kenneth knew that but suddenly emotions were raw again and it was as if the past year of healing had been stripped away. He felt pain and sorrow again, but instead of arguing about it, he went with his nature and shut his mouth. The past could not be undone, anyway.
With a heavy sigh, Kenneth turned away, catching sight of Cathlina as he did so.
He had forgotten she was there, as they all had.
The subject they had discussed in front of her was a volatile one and the expression on her face suggested she was perhaps as deeply entrenched in the subject matter as they were.
It was, in truth, a passionate and fascinating story, not one easily ignored.
When Kenneth locked gazes with Cathlina, she pointed at Mathias.
“Who…?” she began, then reconsidered the question. She started again. “Mathias is not a smithy?”
Kenneth turned to look directly at Mathias.
He was looking at Cathlina, too, having completely forgotten she was there.
He felt like an idiot. She had heard all that he hoped she would not hear and now he would have to explain it to her and pray she understood.
But somehow, he was more apt to believe that she would flee the stall and never look back.
Already, he felt the sorrow of her departure but before he could answer, Tate replied for him.
“He is not a smithy,” Tate said quietly.
“Mathias de Reyne is one of the greatest knights I have ever known. We served together for many years before the madness between Edward and Roger Mortimer and, as you heard, Mathias sided with Mortimer. Because of this, he was stripped of his titles and lands, and has found a living now as a smithy. He is one of my greatest friends and one of the truest, most honorable men I know. You were very fortunate that he came to your aid, Cathlina. He is a very great man.”
Cathlina’s eyes were wide as she gazed at Mathias, digesting what Tate had told her. The truth was that she was overwhelmed with it all. It was too much information, too important and severe. Her head was starting to swim with it.
“I see,” she said, although she didn’t mean it.
She didn’t truly grasp half of what she had heard.
“I… I brought him some treats yesterday to thank him for helping my sister and me. I have only come for the empty basket. I did not mean to… I fear this is something I should not have heard. I did not mean to interrupt your business.”
“You did not interrupt anything,” Tate said, seeing how stunned she was. “Where is your father? He can escort you back to your encampment and I shall see you later at the tournament.”
Cathlina was feeling many different things at that moment; disappointment, fear, surprise, sorrow… it was difficult to isolate just one. All she knew was that too many emotions were welling in her chest. Mostly, she felt foolish. Her eyes were on Mathias as she spoke.
“My father is not here,” she said, her voice tight and with the least bit of a tremble. “I came alone. Mathias… I mean, my lord, if you will give me my basket, I shall be along my way.”
Mathias could see how upset she was and he felt so incredibly guilty. “I will retrieve it,” he said softly. “Then I will escort you back to your family.”
“Nay,” she said abruptly, already moving out of the stall. “I do not… you should stay here. I do not need an escort.”
Mathias, Kenneth and Tate were all moving after her as she tried to flee. “Cathlina,” Tate called after her. “Sweetheart, please let Ken escort you back. You do not have to….”
It was too much. Cathlina took off at a dead run, disappearing in between a couple of stalls in a silky flash of pale blue linen.
Mathias didn’t even wait for Tate or Kenneth – he took off as well, following her path.
He had to find her and soothe her if he could but he was sure he couldn’t.
She ran because of him. Still, he felt desperate to explain himself even if she didn’t want anything to do with him. He wanted everything to do with her.
Cathlina was small and fast, but he was big and faster.
Moreover, he knew this town and she didn’t.
Mathias was able to follow her path quite easily.
She had ended up out behind some small cottages to the north side of the village and as he emerged from between a pair of structures, he could see her in the distance, walking through knee-deep green grass with her head bowed.
As he slowed his pace, Kenneth came running up behind him.
“There she is,” Kenneth said. “I shall retrieve her.”
Mathias put out a hand to stop him. “Let me do it,” he said. “I am the reason she ran. Let me take her back.”
Kenneth looked at him. “What do you mean?”
Mathias sighed faintly, his gaze on the distant figure. “I suppose you could say that we have become friends,” he said quietly. “It is not a pleasant thing to discover your friend is not who you thought he was.”
Kenneth understood somewhat. He also realized that tendrils of jealousy were snatching at him but it wasn’t in his nature to act upon them.
He wasn’t the type. Moreover, he’d had his chance with Cathlina back in December when her family had visited Carlisle.
His attraction to her had been mild but she clearly hadn’t been interested in him.
He hoped Mathias had better luck with her.
“A friend?” he repeated. “Or something more?”
Mathias shook his head. “Nothing more,” he assured him. “Moreover, a woman like that is out of my class.”
Kenneth’s eyebrows furrowed. “She is not out of your class,” he said. “Why would you say such things?”
“If you had a daughter, would you allow her to marry a dishonored knight?”
Kenneth shrugged. He had a point. “Your dishonor will not last forever,” he said.
“In fact… if I were you, I might not listen to de Lara’s assessment of your status.
If I was in the same situation, I might compete in the tournament anyway.
I might borrow my friend’s bay charger, a rather new and inexperienced beast, but one of very fine stock and eager to learn.
Mayhap my friend would have him tethered in de Lara’s encampment so that I could slip in and take him.
It is not as if de Lara told you not to compete.
He simply said it would not be a good idea. ”
Mathias looked at him. “What is this? Insubordination from Kenneth St. Héver, the perfect knight?”
Kenneth merely looked away, watching Cathlina struggle through the tall, wet grass. He didn’t comment on his suggestion, instead, letting it settle in Mathias’ mind. He shifted the subject.
“She is a beautiful girl,” he commented, his gaze lingering on Cathlina before turning to Mathias. “Her father is very protective of her, however. Take heed he does not come after you with his axe if he thinks you have eyes for his daughter.”
“I never said I had eyes for her.”
Kenneth’s white eyebrows lifted. “Liar.”
“I am not.”
“Then why did you run after her when she fled?”
“To make sure she did not come to harm.”
Kenneth gave him a disbelieving look before turning away and returning the way he had come. Meanwhile, Mathias went after Cathlina.
The morning dew was still heavy in the grass as he tramped through it.
Cathlina still had her head down and her pace had slowed, and as Mathias drew closer he could see that her hands were at her face.
She was moving them around. Eventually, she lowered her hands and he could see a white kerchief clutched in the fingers of her left hand.
He came up behind her and put a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“Cathlina?” he said softly.
She jumped and whirled to face him. Her eyes were red and watery and her pert little nose was red from crying. Seeing Mathias behind her, Cathlina tried to move away from him quickly but the heavy grass made it difficult.
“I do not need your assistance,” she assured him. “I do not need the basket, either. You can keep it.”
“Cathlina, stop,” he begged softly, reaching out to gently grasp her. “Please let me explain what you heard.”
She shook her head, her kerchief at her nose. “There is no need to explain,” she said. “I heard what Cousin Tate said. You are a knight pretending to be a smithy.”
“I am not pretending to be anything. I am what you see.”
She disputed him with a sharp wave of the hand. “But… but you know my cousin, the Earl of Carlisle,” she said, sniffling into her wadded kerchief. “He said you were a great knight. What in the world are you doing posing as a smithy and fooling people into thinking you are a simple man?”
“Is that what you think? That I was trying to fool you?”
She shrugged, blowing her nose. “It does not matter to me who you are.”
“Then why are you weeping?”
She came to a halt and scowled at him. “I am not weeping for you if that is what you think.”
He fought off a grin. “I had hoped that you were.”
Her scowl turned to curiosity. “You do? Why?”
He removed his hand from her elbow now that he was sure she wasn’t going to run off. He could see that he had her attention. Feigning shyness, he looked away.
“Because I have rather enjoyed coming to know you,” he said, trying to get a look at her from the corner of his eye to gauge how she was reacting. “I was very much looking forward to seeing you today.”
Cathlina’s tears were almost completely forgotten. “You were?”
“I was.”
Cathlina was seemingly at a loss. It was evident that she wanted to say something to him but perhaps propriety was preventing her from speaking her mind.
The tears had been replaced by a rather warm glimmer.
The fact that he seemed to be attracted to her outweighed her confusion at the moment.
Suddenly, she didn’t feel like running from him anymore.