Chapter Sixteen #2
Dacia was laughing because he was. “God’s Bones,” she said. “The Norse have some very strange names. I do not wish for my son to bear a name that no one can pronounce.”
Cassius continued to chuckle, this time because she was absolutely right. “Then we shall give him a suitable Christian name as a second name and call him by that,” he said. “But we cannot deny Magnus the Law-Mender. That was a rule established in our family long ago so you may as well know now.”
The gate to Doncaster loomed overhead. Dacia looked up at it, seeing the familiar walls and the familiar massive wooden gates, and was reminded of how her future had changed.
She was Doncaster, and always would be, but she would have a husband who served at the king’s side.
When he became the duke, things would change drastically for him.
She knew he realized that, but the practice of it would be something altogether different.
It made for an uncertain paradox.
“Cass,” she said slowly. “I was wondering… once we are married, what then? Do you plan to return to Edward? You once said you never took a wife because of your position with him, but marrying me changes that a little. I am Doncaster and when my grandfather passes away, you will inherit the title. That means that there are… expectations. What will you do?”
He was looking up at the gate, too. “It is true that things will change when your grandfather passes,” he said.
“But let us hope that will not be for a long while yet and we shall deal with one problem at a time. I’m not yet sure what I shall do for the immediate future, but I do know that wherever I go, you will be with me. I will never be without you, angel.”
It was a good enough answer for her and she didn’t press him.
The party bearing the Doncaster standard moved into the village now, distracting her.
It still smelled of smoke almost two weeks after the mercenary raid.
It was the first time Dacia had been to town since the incident and she could see the scorched and burned buildings, the open village center that had piles of charred wood on it and other debris.
Immediately, she could see that there had been a good deal of trouble.
The church of St. George’s was to her left, on the north side of the village, and it was unscathed. The churchyard was next to it and the empty field to the north of it, the one where the mercenaries had been buried.
In spite of the damage and rebuilding, people in town were going about their usual business. When the Doncaster party rode into town, they became the center of attention. People were pointing, whispering. Some were even running to other streets to announce the presence of Doncaster.
It didn’t bother Dacia, as she had seen this kind of behavior every time she came to town with her grandfather.
But this time, she felt more apprehension than usual.
Her face was exposed, which was cause enough to be anxious.
She’d never gone out in public like this and it was an effort not to lower her head so her face wouldn’t be obviously seen.
Cassius glanced at her, watching to see how she was responding to everything.
He saw her drop her chin once or twice, looking at her saddle, her hands, her lap, but she always lifted it again.
He knew this was something new to her, something she would have to become accustomed to, but she was trying very hard no matter how much discomfort she felt.
“Dacia,” he murmured. “You are the most beautiful woman in this village, if not all of England. Let these people see you for what you really are. They’ve never seen a face like yours in their entire lives.”
She looked at him, smiling gratefully and he winked at her encouragingly. Then, he pointed up ahead.
“Is this the street of the smithies ahead of us?” he asked. “My visits to town have been limited to a feast and a raid, so I do not know the layout.”
Dacia nodded. “Aye,” she said. “There are several up ahead, but it looks as if they suffered a good deal of damage.”
That was quite true. This was the street that had been the worst hit.
Stalls that hadn’t been burned completely were in shambles, and there wasn’t one stall that was untouched.
Still, men were working in them. Smithies were shoeing horses, or fashioning things on their anvils, and the heat from their forges could be felt as soon as they entered the street proper.
There were a great many people about, conducting business or rebuilding what had been damaged. People paused to stare, although no one greeted Dacia. All they seemed to do was stare at her. More and more, she was becoming self-conscious, struggling not to let the attention bother her.
But it was difficult.
They came to a stall that Dacia knew was a goldsmith because the man was the father of a girl that she had been friends with, long ago.
Cassius ordered the escort to a halt and dismounted his horse, handing the reins over to Rhori before going to Dacia and lifting her from her palfrey. He smiled at her when their eyes met.
“Come,” he said softly.
Tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow, he forced the clingy dog to remain behind as he took her to the stall that wasn’t as badly damaged as some of them had been.
Goldsmiths usually employed their own security, and this stall was no different.
They were stopped at the door by three heavily armed men who allowed Cassius to pass when he surrendered his sword to Bose and swore to enter unarmed.
Once inside the stall, they were met by the goldsmith, a little man in flowing robes with rings on every finger. The man’s focus was on Cassius, a positively enormous knight filling up his stall.
“My lord,” he said. “I am Lockwood. How may I be of service to you this day?”
Cassius looked down at the man, who was shorter than Dacia. “My lady and I wish to look at rings,” he said. “The very finest you have. Do you have some to show us?”
The man nodded eagerly until his gaze fell on Dacia. He stared at her for a moment before his eyes widened, as if realizing who she was. His mouth popped open.
“My lady,” he said. “You are Doncaster’s granddaughter.”
Dacia was tense. Cassius could feel it in her hand as it clutched his right elbow. But to her credit, she didn’t try to lower her head or avert her gaze. She looked him in the eyes.
“I am,” she said. “This is Cassius de Wolfe. We are to be married. Will you show us some modest rings, please?”
“The biggest rings,” Cassius said.
She looked at him. “Modest.”
“Big.”
She sighed sharply and looked to the goldsmith. “Do whatever he wishes,” she said. “He will have his way in the end, so do what he wants.”
Lockwood looked between the pair in a most hesitant manner before beckoning them to follow. They did, following him into a smaller chamber in his stall where three men were working over various pieces on the tables before them. He indicated two chairs in front of one of the tables.
“Please,” he said. “Sit down. This is Flavio and he will show you whatever you wish.”
Cassius didn’t even think it strange that Lockwood left him with a subordinate, who promptly showed him several big, gold, beautiful rings, all with precious stones in them.
But Dacia was a little more uncomfortable.
She was wondering why the man had suddenly run off, heading back into the living quarters.
She suspected that he was telling his wife and daughter who had come to his shop.
Dacia hadn’t seen Claudia Lockwood in years, not since she’d been a girl.
She was certain that Claudia would come out to greet her purely to be polite and she braced herself.
Not being covered in her veils was soul-rattling to someone who had always gone into public well-camouflaged, but having Cassius by her side fed her courage.
His mere presence made her feel strong and brave.
“Well?” Cassius said. “What do you think?”
Dacia had been so focused on the possible appearance of Claudia that she hadn’t been paying attention.
But Cassius was holding a gorgeous ring in front of her, one made from gold fashioned into glorious, intricate designs.
The entire ring was like that, all the way around the band, and at the crest was an enormous diamond.
It was absolutely spectacular.
“Oh… Cassius,” she said in awe, plucking it from his fingers to get a good look at it. “It is the most beautiful ring I have ever seen.”
He watched her face as she inspected it. “Do you like it, then?”
She nodded eagerly. “I do, but it must be quite expensive,” she said, looking at the other rings that were on the table before them, each one sitting upon different colored pieces of silk. “The one with the amethyst is beautiful, too.”
She was indicating a much smaller, far less elaborate ring. He ignored her, took the ring from her hand, and slipped it onto her wedding finger. It was a little snug, but it fit well enough.
“Look,” he said. “The ring was made for you. It fits.”
Dacia looked at the enormous diamond ring on her finger. “But it is so big.”
He wouldn’t hear her argument. “It is a suitable ring for a future duchess,” he said. “And it is exactly what my wife deserves. I will have you in nothing less.”
“A diamond will represent your strength and loyalty to your husband, my lady,” the clerk said timidly. “It is a ring to be greatly admired.”
Dacia wasn’t sure she wanted a ring to be admired, but Cassius seemed so certain about it, so she simply nodded. In truth, it was a magnificent ring. He held her hand up, watching the ring catch the light.
“Are you sure?” she said to Cassius. “I am sure we can look at other rings. Smaller. Less expensive. I do not need a massive ring, Cassius.”
He looked at the clerk. “We shall take this one,” he said, completely ignoring her protests. “But I will look at other rings for her. She has ten fingers, after all. She should have a ring for each one.”