Chapter Twenty-Four
Sophie was feeling better.
Cortez’s first clue was when he felt soft baby claws digging at his belly, awakening him from a dead sleep.
When he tried to move, he heard little giggles and the bark of a puppy.
Opening his eyes, he saw Sophie standing next to the bed, playing with her animals as they nestled against his torso. He smiled sleepily.
“Sophie?” he asked softly. “What are you doing, sweetheart?”
Sophie looked at him and he saw the light go on in her eyes. She was pale, that was true, but her big smile and bright eyes told him that she was well on her way to mending.
“They want to play here,” she told him. “They like you.”
Cortez grunted when baby kitty claws dug into his ticklish middle. “And I like them,” he said. “But can you please remove them now so I can get up?”
Sophie nodded, picking up the two kittens and the rabbit, and carrying them over to the other bed.
Cortez picked up the puppy and the fox kit as he sat up, handing them to Sophie when she came back to collect them.
She was a happy little girl and he patted her head, smiling at her as she carried the remainder of her pets over to the bed.
“There once was an old whore named Rose,” Sophie sang, “with a wart on the end of her nose….”
Cortez flinched when he heard his song come out of her mouth, immediately looking around to see if Diamantha was in the room and hoping she hadn’t heard. He saw her immediately, sitting over near the hearth. She was looking at him, a faint smile on her lips, and he smiled back.
“Good morn to you, sweetheart,” he said, scratching his scalp and hoping he wasn’t about to get a scolding for the naughty song Sophie was singing. “I must have slept long.”
But Diamantha either didn’t notice or she didn’t care. She stood up from the chair with something in her hand and Cortez could see that it was Edlington’s stained tunic.
“You were exhausted,” she said as she sat down on the bed next to him, accepting a kiss on her cheek. “I am sorry that Sophie woke you.”
Cortez put a big arm around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze. “It was the best thing I could wake up to,” he said, eyeing the little girl as she played with her pets. “She looks much better.”
Diamantha looked at her daughter, also “She is,” she said, relief in her voice. “She has already eaten a big bowl of mush this morning and so far she feels fine. I cannot tell you how grateful I am.”
Cortez kissed her temple. “As am I,” he said, then looked to the tunic she was holding. His manner sobered. “What are you doing with that?”
Diamantha looked at the tunic, too. After a moment, she sighed faintly. “I was just looking at it,” she said. “I made this for him, you know. He was quite proud of it.”
Cortez wasn’t sure what to say to that. She seemed sad but resigned. In fact, she had been sad and resigned since he had returned to the tavern yesterday evening with the tunic in his hand and the news that he had, indeed, found Robert Edlington.
Diamantha had taken the news better then he thought she would.
There had been a rather steely resolve about her, or perhaps it had simply been the fact that she’d had months to accept his death.
In any case, as she had held the tunic and wiped away tears of both sadness and relief, Cortez had been very careful in explaining that the priests had collected the dead and wounded from the battlefield, and that had included Edlington.
The man had been at the church all along.
He told her that he was having the priests build a box in which to place Robert’s body and that they would soon be taking him home.
All of it was true, of course, because the priests were indeed building a coffin for Robert, and the man was being washed and prepared that afternoon for his journey home.
Diamantha had shed tears for her late husband but they had fortunately been short-lived.
They had what they had come for – the great questing for Robert Edlington’s body – and she was satisfied.
Thankfully, she didn’t ask to see Robert’s corpse because once she saw the tunic, both she and Cortez agreed that it was better to remember Robert as he was, a big and powerful knight.
Cortez, along with Keir and the other knights, assured Diamantha that the corpse was indeed Robert, so with six men identifying her husband, Diamantha saw no need to personally identify him.
Their word was enough, and Cortez was deeply thankful.
As he sat and collected his thoughts, and pondered the great secret of Robert Edlington’s true passing that six knights had sworn to take to their graves, the rabbit got loose from Sophie and the little girl squealed.
Snapping out of his train of thought, Cortez got up and went after the rabbit, finding it hiding under the bed and delivering it back to Sophie for safekeeping.
Meanwhile, Diamantha had taken Robert’s tunic and carefully rolled it up, putting it into the barrel that made anything stored in it smell like cinnamon. She stood there a moment, gazing down into the barrel.
“What did you do with the rest of Robert’s possessions?” she asked Cortez.
He had made his way over to the table and the bowl of cold water. He splashed some on his face. “In addition to the tunic, we came across his sword, most of his armor, and one of his saddlebags,” he said. “All of that will be stored on the wagons. I asked Drake to see to it. Why?”
She shrugged, still looking down the barrel. “I want to make sure we preserve them for Sophie,” she said. “It is something of her father that she can have. I think it is important.”
Cortez agreed. “We will put them away for safekeeping and she can have them when she comes of age, mayhap to give to her own son.”
Diamantha liked that idea. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. “When did the priests think they would be finished with Robert’s coffin?”
Cortez splashed more water on his face, drying it with a piece of linen nearby that was there for that purpose.
“More than likely today,” he said. “I will go to the church later and check their progress. Once Robert is settled, there is no reason to delay returning home. I would like to before the heavy snows fall.”
Diamantha agreed. She began rearranging the barrel as Cortez finished dressing and headed out into the common room.
He wanted to meet with his knights to make preparations for the return journey.
As emotionally draining as yesterday had been, he awoke this morning feeling a great sense of relief – relief that their journey had ended and relief that they had what they had come for.
Still, he couldn’t help feeling some guilt and sadness over Robert’s final demise.
Perhaps he would always feel some guilt for it.
But he, like the others, prayed that Robert was finally at peace.
Perhaps God would take pity on the man and not condemn him to Purgatory for his actions.
God was a man, after all. Perhaps He would understand.
His knights were at their usual table near the entry door of the tavern and he made his way over to them, listening to Keir and Michael deal him a few insults for sleeping late.
Cortez grinned and slapped Keir on the shoulder, good-naturedly, as he sat down to bread and warmed-over stew.
As he began to eat his first real meal in days, the door swung open and young Peter appeared.
“My lord,” the squire said. “You had better come.”
A sense of concern shot through Cortez as he swallowed the bite in his mouth and rose to his feet. “What is it?” he demanded.
Peter merely waved him on. “Come and see, my lord.”
The young lad bolted from the room, leaving the knights to follow.
Everyone was wrought with curiosity and some apprehension as they made their way to the area outside of the tavern, with Peter pointing down the road to the southwest. It was clear this day with the rains having cleared out, but a touch of winter was in the air.
It was very cold and breath hung in great foggy clouds as they all tried to see what Peter was pointing at.
Cortez’s eyes were no good at a distance but Keir’s were. A slow smile spread across his lips.
“Andres,” he finally breathed.
Cortez wasn’t surprised. “He said he would catch up with us,” he said, great satisfaction in his voice. “But do I see two riders?”
Keir nodded as Drake came up beside Cortez. “It looks like your father,” he muttered.
Cortez sighed heavily. He didn’t want a battle on his hands, not today. After yesterday, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready for another emotional battle so he braced himself.
Sensing a hard change in Cortez’s demeanor, Drake leaned into him. He knew what had the man on edge.
“Andres would not have brought your father with him if the man was still full of venom,” he said in a low voice. “But to be safe, I will go sit with your wife.”
Cortez nodded faintly as Drake headed back into the tavern. As the rest of the knights stood there, the two great chargers heading up from the southwest drew closer and closer. Andres and Gorsedd came clearly into view and Cortez, feeling very edgy, moved forward.
“Stop right there,” he told them. “Father, if you have come here to further denounce my wife, know that I have no patience for it. You can turn around and go home. Today is not the day to push me.”
Andres held up a hand to signify his peaceful intentions.
“Greetings to you, too, brother,” he said somewhat wryly, noting Keir standing next to Cortez.
His face lit up. “St. Héver, you ugly beast! How did you come to be part of this ragtag group? And is that Pembury? Good God, two ugly beasts in one place. I’ve never been so happy in my life! ”
Keir grinned, as did Michael, but neither one of them responded. There was still the unanswered statement from Cortez. Uncertainty filled the air as Cortez took another step towards them.