Chapter Three
When Cassius arrived at the river’s side, he spied a disaster.
A woman was in the river on her knees while Argos cavorted around her, chasing ducks and other waterfowl. He was having a grand time. As Cassius watched in horror, the dog ran up to the lady, licked her face, and then shook himself so that the water on his fur sprayed out all over her.
The lady yelped.
Cassius was in the water in an instant.
“Here, my lady. Allow me to help you.”
When he touched her, the woman shrieked again, yanking her arm away from him and stumbling forward, splashing down into the water again.
Cassius wasn’t sure what to do, so he stood there, watching her struggle to her feet, pulling the ends of her wet apron around her face before she ever turned to look at him.
In fact, she was covering most of her face, leading Cassius to believe that Argos must have hurt her somehow.
He was mortified.
“My lady, are you injured?” he asked, concerned. “My deepest apologies. The dog is usually harmless, I swear. If you are injured, I shall seek a physic immediately.”
The lady finally turned to him, staggering, with one hand holding the apron on her face and the other one gathering her soaking skirts.
The only thing he could really see were her eyes and her forehead, and a head of dark, luscious hair that was braided into one long braid that trailed to her buttocks.
But those eyes… somewhere between pale blue and pale green, as if they had a fire all their own.
He’d never seen a color like that in his life.
“Is this your dog?” she demanded through the cloth on her face.
He nodded with great remorse. “Aye,” he said. “I am exceedingly sorry, my lady. If you are injured, please let me help you.”
She was agitated. That much was clear. “He is a very naughty dog.”
“I know, my lady. He is usually much better behaved.”
“He jumped on me.”
“I am very sorry, my lady.”
“He… he got me all wet!”
Cassius sighed sharply and whistled, one of those piercing bursts, and the dog immediately came to his side. He looked at the dog sternly.
“Do you see what you did?” he scolded the mutt.
“You pushed this lady into the river and hurt her, and now I am at her mercy because of you. If she wishes to beat me in retaliation, then I must let her. If she wishes to kick me, then I will have to stand for it. If she wants to light my hair on fire and call it justice, then I will have no say in the matter. Well? Do you see what you have done, you ridiculous creature?”
The dog wagged his wet tail and Cassius frowned deeply. But he was also trying to catch a glimpse of the lady from the corners of his eyes.
She was still standing there.
Cassius wanted to see how she was reacting, hoping that she was softening with his humor and that the dog escapade was a forgivable offense.
He finally dared to look at her and he swore he saw her eyes crinkling, as if she were smiling, but the moment their eyes met, she hastily turned for the riverbank.
“I will not beat you nor light your hair on fire,” she said, sloshing through the water. “But Argos had better learn to behave himself. The next woman he jumps on might not be so forgiving.”
Cassius was following her, sort of. He was walking parallel to her, holding out his hands as if to keep her from teetering because she was having difficulty with her wet, heavy skirts.
“I will have a stern talk with him,” he promised. “Are you certain that I cannot assist you?”
She came to the bank. She had to step up about a foot, and the slope was slippery and wet. She tried once and failed, looking to Cassius reluctantly.
“Mayhap you can help me onto the bank,” she said.
He leapt up onto the bank with the agility of a cat, reaching out to carefully pull her up. She was soaking wet and heavy, but he managed to get her onto the shore. She still had the apron up around her face and he peered at her.
“Are you sure he did not hurt you?” he asked.
Her pale, bright gaze lingered on him for a moment. “I am sure,” she said. She looked at him perhaps a little longer than she should have before tearing her gaze away. “I am well enough. Thank you for your assistance.”
She started to walk away, picking her way through the grass as she headed downriver. Cassius, mesmerized by those brilliant eyes, watched her go.
“May I know the name of the woman my dog sinned against so grievously?” he asked.
She paused, turning to him. “You should tell me your name so I know who to avoid in the future.”
“Sir Cassius de Wolfe, my lady,” he said without hesitation. “I have the great honor of holding the position of Lord Protector to our king. I have come to Doncaster to relay a message to the duke from Edward.”
Those great eyes flickered, surprised by what he’d told her. “Then you are an accomplished knight,” she said. “I suppose I should be honored that your dog assaulted me.”
“It was not an honor, I assure you,” he said regretfully. Then, he paused. “Are you really going to avoid me now?”
His explanation of who he was and why he was there gave her pause. Now that she knew, her gaze seemed to go from indignant to curious, although it was truly difficult to tell because her face was so covered up. But something in her eyes suggested that she was no longer angry.
Perhaps interested, even.
After a moment, she sighed.
“Probably not,” she said.
He grinned that smile that could melt even the hardest heart. “I would very much like to know your name.”
His smile had the desired effect. He could tell just by looking at her. But she steeled herself against the charm offensive, at least as much as she was able, and lowered her gaze.
“Dacia,” she said, turning away. “Good day to you, Sir Cassius.”
He didn’t try to follow her. In fact, he didn’t say another word. He simply watched her walk away, down the riverbank, until she nearly faded from view. Then, he saw her take a turn and head up the slope towards Edenthorpe. As he watched, she headed straight to the castle.
That told him what he wanted to know.
He was going to be on the lookout for those bright, pale eyes.
*
It was well into the evening at Edenthorpe Castle and the great hall was ablaze with light and conversation. It was a big hall with big beams supporting the roof and two enormous hearths, one at each end of the hall.
The hall was built with the same white stone that the castle was built with, but the hearths were made of marble that had been imported all the way from a quarry north of Rome.
Italian craftsmen had come along with the marble and had pieced it together expertly, creating an intricate and fascinating work of art.
Those hearths weren’t the only things that suggested the overall wealth of Doncaster.
The hall was full of such suggestions.
Everywhere one looked, there was something lavish and expensive – tapestries, furs and rugs on the floor instead of rushes, and even the tables themselves were massive, well-built pieces of furniture.
Doncaster had a shipbuilder in Liverpool build the tables and he liked to joke that they could withstand a gale-force tempest.
Certainly, they could withstand a gang of drunken soldiers.
And then there was the food. Mounds of it.
More food than Cassius had ever seen in one place, and that was saying a lot.
He came from a family of men, hungry men who liked to eat, and the king would have lavish feasts regularly that were nothing compared to what he was looking at now – savory baked egg dishes with prunes and wine and meat, subtleties that were in the shapes of castles and serpents, puddings, breads, giant boiled knuckles of beef, and so much more.
Old Cuffy did, indeed, produce an epicurean delight.
Cassius was given a seat next to the duke while Bose and Rhori were seated across from him.
The table was so wide that they may as well have been across the hall, for they could barely hear the conversation between Cassius and the duke and wouldn’t have been able to hear it at all had it not been for the fact that the duke was hard of hearing and Cassius had to practically shout in a room that was not conducive to audible nuances.
In truth, it was a giant echo chamber, and that made the buzz of conversation somewhat overwhelming.
“The last time you were here, I dare say that you did not partake of the feast,” Doncaster was saying over the terrible acoustics. “As I recall, you prowled around the hall like a cat, watching for any threats against our illustrious king.”
Cassius nodded. “That is my position, your grace,” he said. “Wherever the king goes, I am usually relegated to roaming whatever chamber he is in, ensuring his safety. Once it is secure, I will stand behind him. I am sure that did not escape your notice, either.”
The old duke shook his head, his white hair thin but fluffy. It looked like a dandelion head. “Probably not,” he said, taking a drink of his wine. “I do not miss much, but these days, I find myself giving over to a lack of caring sometimes.”
“Your grace?”
He was asking for clarification and Doncaster shrugged.
“What I mean to say is that I am old,” he said, his blue eyes twinkling.
“Nothing much frightens me any longer. I do not pay close attention to people like I used to. That kind of vigilance is for the young. Truth be told, I am resigned to what comes.”
“What comes, your grace?”
“Death.”
“Are you ill, your grace? The king will wish to know.”
But Doncaster waved him off. “Not ill,” he said.
“Simply… old. Everyone I love has moved on to the next adventure. I have always believed death is the next adventure, you know. I had a priest tell me once that he believes death is merely a transition to another type of existence. That is not what the church tells us, mind you, but this priest was a radical. He believed there was a great life after this one and everyone we ever loved was waiting for us there.”