Chapter Eight #3
“I am not sure what to say to all of that,” she said softly, “but I suppose I could tell you that I was looking forward to seeing you, too. I have been looking forward to seeing you again since I met you. Coming to your stall in search of my basket was merely an excuse.”
He looked at her, a smile on his full lips.
“I had hoped that it was,” he said, his voice deep and gentle.
“In fact, I was trying to think of another excuse after the basket had been used up. Surely there was something else you could retrieve from me, or mayhap you would leave your kerchief behind so that I could return it to you.”
Cathlina’s chest was swelling with hope.
In fact, it was becoming difficult to breathe as she gazed into his dark green eyes.
But as she bathed in the joy of the knowledge that he was evidently feeling the same allure she was, the weight of Mathias’ conversation with Tate was pressing upon her. Her expression grew serious.
“Why were you pretending to be a smithy, Mathias?” she asked softly. “I do not understand half of what Cousin Tate was saying, but am I to understand you are an outlaw?”
Mathias shook his head, thankful that she was at least receptive to hearing his story. He chose his words carefully.
“I am not an outlaw,” he said quietly. “In order to explain myself, it is easier to start from the beginning. Do you remember when we spoke of my mother and I mentioned that she had died a few years ago?”
“I do.”
“She was an older sister to Roger Mortimer’s wife, Joan,” he went on.
“My mother was close to her sister and as she lay very ill, she made me promise that I would always support Joan’s husband no matter what.
Unwilling to disappoint her, I agreed. Therefore, when Mortimer and Isabella took the throne from young Edward, I fought with Mortimer and when he was ultimately captured and killed for his treachery, I was stripped of my titles and lands for my participation. ”
The second time around, and with Mathias’ clear and gentle explanation, she was able to grasp the scenario better.
It was still overwhelming information but somehow, she was quickly coming to accept it.
In fact, it made a good deal of sense. Mathias was a very big and very muscular man, and didn’t look like any smithy she had ever seen.
There was something clean and powerful about him, like a god in the midst of a sea of pagans. Now, it was all starting to make sense.
“So you served Mortimer?” she asked.
He nodded slowly. “I was the captain of his armies.”
It was difficult to comprehend that as much as her cousin Tate had been the right arm of Edward, so Mathias had been the right hand of the hated Mortimer.
So much death and destruction in a power struggle that had nearly torn the country apart, and Mathias and Tate had been in the middle of it.
Tate had emerged greater than before but Mathias, by virtue of his loyalties, had emerged a fallen man.
He was the fallen one. The information threatened to overwhelm her again but she fought it.
“What were your lands and titles?” she asked.
“Does it matter?”
“Not really,” she said. “I was simply curious.”
His gaze lingered on her a moment before he spoke “I was known as Baron Westbury, High Warden of the Northern Marches,” he said.
“Alberbury Castle and Caus Castle on the Marches were mine as well as seven thousand retainers under my direct command. But that is over and done with now. I am, in fact, a smithy these days because when my titles were taken from me, I was forced to swear that I would never again bear arms in battle in exchange for my life.”
She gazed up at him with her big brown eyes as she digested his statement. “Your brother and father, too?”
“Them, too. We had to find some way of making a living and by virtue of our profession had some proficiency at metal working, so it seemed like a logical choice.”
“So you live as peasants.”
“We do what we must in order to survive.”
She could imagine him at the head of a great army. It was very easy to picture. As she thought on him clad in armor and bearing weapons as a powerful warrior, now reduced to wearing a leather apron and wielding a hammer, she began to feel sorry for him. She couldn’t help it.
“What will you do now with your life?” she asked seriously. “It seems that Sir Kenneth did not think your exile would last forever. When your greatness is restored, what will you do?”
He lifted his eyebrows thoughtfully. As he did so, horns from the tournament field began to sound, calling the combatants to the arena for the practice bouts. Mathias fully intended to participate but before he could, he had to get Cathlina moving. He extended his elbow to her.
“Let me take you back to your family,” he said. “The tournament will be starting soon.”
Cathlina took his elbow without hesitation and he began to lead her back the way they had come.
Things were calm now between them, and the feel of her hand against his arm was comforting and natural.
It had been so long since Mathias had felt a woman against him, in any form, that the simple touch of her hand was enough to set his heart fluttering.
“Please answer my question” Cathlina said as he helped her navigate a muddy puddle of mashed grass. “What will you do once your honor is restored and you are a mighty knight again?”
He shrugged. “I will have my titles and property returned to me at some point,” he said as they walked. “I never believed otherwise. When the time comes, I will assume my place in the king’s stable of knights. I will swear fealty to him.”
“When do you think this will happen?”
“It is difficult to know. Time has a way of healing bitter memories. Mayhap it will be next year or mayhap in ten years. I do not know.”
“And you remain so patient?”
He thought he had been very patient, but remembering his conversation with his father whereupon he discussed winning the tournament and using the proceeds to start a new life in Scotland, perhaps he hadn’t been patient at all.
“Nay,” he shook his head ruefully. “I am not as patient as I would like to think. Something has happened recently that has made me reconsider my patient stance.”
“What has happened?”
He gave her a sidelong glance. “I met a young lady who has made me think that mayhap there is more to life than scratching out a living as a smithy,” he said. “She has opened my eyes to a great many things.”
Cathlina had no idea he was speaking of her and she began to feel a good deal of disappointment and jealousy.
“Oh,” she said, somewhat subdued. “Then… then I wish you good fortune in your future endeavors.”
He could tell that she didn’t mean it and he suspected why. In fact, her reaction gave him great hope and happiness. As they passed through the small cottages and onto the avenue that led towards the smithy shack, he put a big hand over the small fingers clutching his elbow.
“I have a question to ask you, Lady Cathlina,” he said. “May I be so bold?”
She picked up the damp hem of her skirt to prevent it from dragging in the dust and creating mud. “Of course.”
“Are you spoken for?”
Cathlina was watching the dusty road pass under her feet, her damp slipper with a brown ring around the bottom. The softly uttered words were not the combination of words she had expected and when the meaning struck her, she looked at him in shock.
“Am I…?” she repeated, eyes wide. “Why… why would you ask?”
“Cathlina!”
The shout came from down the avenue. Cathlina and Mathias turned to see Tate approaching. His expression was filled with concern, with relief, as he quickly came upon them. His focus was completely on Cathlina.
“Cathlina, are you well?” he asked. “I am happy to see that Mathias was able to find you.”
Cathlina looked rather embarrassed, her gaze moving between Tate and Mathias. “I… I am well,” she assured Tate. “I am sorry if I caused you concern. I was… well, I am sure my father is looking for me. I was simply trying to make my way back and lost my way.”
Tate took her from Mathias. “I will take you to him.”
Cathlina looked at Mathias in panic as Tate pulled her away. “Mathias,” she called, but realized she couldn’t say what she was thinking. She scrambled as she thought of a way to phrase it. “In… in answer to your question, it depends on who is asking. Were you inquiring for yourself, perchance?”
Mathias’ eyes glimmered at her as Tate tried to lead her away. “I was.”
She grinned. “In that case, I am not.”
He laughed softly, watching Tate urge her down the avenue with him. Cathlina giggled, waving at him as he waved back. It was a sweet moment in spite of Tate’s presence, the looks between Cathlina and Mathias full of potential and promise.
Mathias lowered his hand, watching her disappear from view with her enormous cousin, the vision of her smiling face the last memory he held to him.
He held it close as he headed back for the smithy stall, keeping the vision of her as his inspiration.
All his life, he’d been told what cause to fight for, whether or not he truly believed in it.
That sense of duty had cost him everything.
He wasn’t going to make the same mistake again. Now, he had his own cause to fight for.
He had a tournament to participate in.