Chapter Six #4
From her second story window, Dustin could see the battle taking place below.
She had been watching for some time, having heard the first blows and her interest was piqued.
She did not feel like leaving her room, being fatigued or the fact she was still wallowing in self-pity, she didn’t know.
But she and Caesar had been holed up playing with a little wooden ball and working on a half-finished piece of needlepoint.
There were so many other things she could be doing, like trying to retrieve the baby birds she had tried to save two days ago, but she knew in her heart that they were probably dead and she was saddened.
She could also be out tending her rabbits, or seeing to the small flower garden her mother had loved so well.
Aye, so many things she could be doing, but she simply didn’t have the energy.
Rather, she would watch the knights take practice on each other from a nice, safe distance.
She saw Christopher taking on Jeffrey, wondering if the match were only for practice or if indeed her husband intended to kill the man.
With rising concern, she wondered if he was setting out to finish what he had started that morn.
Forgetting the fact that she planned to be a hermit this day, she set the needlepoint down and intended to see for herself.
Although she wore the lavender dress, Christopher had yet to see it, as he had requested. Dustin was very pleased with the surcoat for Rebecca had done an outstanding job. It was very snug in the bodice with a plunging neckline, long trailing sleeves, and a full, voluminous skirt.
Dustin had pulled the front of her hair back and secured it to the crown of her head with her ivory clip, revealing her heart-shaped face.
She usually kept her hair down because she thought her ears stuck out, but she had pulled it back when she had donned the dress to keep it out of her face and had simply forgotten to remove the clip.
It was the one piece of jewelry or adornment she owned, and it had been a gift from her father.
She only kept it because it had been a useful gift, but true to her nature, she hated fancy, feminine things of any kind.
All lavender silk and thigh-length blond hair, part of which was piled on top of her head, she dashed out of the castle and headed for the arena.
The field was surrounded by soldiers as she came up, slowing her pace and craning her neck to catch a better glimpse.
She could hear metal slamming on metal and grunts of effort, but she could see nothing.
Frustrated, she looked for higher ground.
A few feet away was a log. Close to five feet tall and probably three feet in diameter, it was used for various practice drills and she knew she could have a birds-eye view if she could stand atop it.
As good at climbing as she was, she managed to hoist herself up without so much as dirtying her dress, and stood her full height a bit unsteadily, her eyes riveted to the arena.
Christopher and Jeffrey were delivering blows so hard it made her body hurt just watching them. She assumed that if Christopher was going to kill Jeffrey, he would have done so by now, so the men must simply be testing each other. She knew that knights liked to prove themselves constantly.
She’d seen Jeffrey fight before and knew he had great strength, but she’d never seen her husband fight before and felt that familiar giddy warmth settle over her.
His prowess was unmatched as he dealt Jeffrey blow after heavy blow, and the grace with which he lifted his massive sword unparalleled.
It seemed to her that to every five or six offensive blows, Jeffrey could only return one or two and spent the rest of his time defending himself.
She was amazed at Christopher’s pure skill and precision, it was like Caesar toying with a mouse.
It was obvious, even to her, that Christopher was far superior in strength and talent.
Jeffrey, however, was holding his own until he took a step backwards and tripped, landing heavily in his armor. Christopher was on him in an instant, the tip of his sword against the big German’s neck.
Jeffrey let his sword fall from his grip and raised his hands in a gesture of defeat. “I concede, my lord.”
After a moment, Christopher removed his sword and stood back, extending a hand to help the man to his feet. “You fight well, Jeffrey.”
Jeffrey raised his visor and grinned. “Not as well as you, my lord. I had heard rumor that the savages called you the Lion’s Claw and now I know why.”
Christopher sheathed his sword and went to unlatch his helmet, but not before catching sight of Dustin standing atop the pole. She wasn’t hard to miss in the bright color, perched like some exotic, beautiful bird quite comfortably atop the log, watching him.
He pulled off his helmet and tossed it in the direction of his men. “What are you doing up there?” he called to her.
“I came to watch,” she answered.
The crowd surrounding the field parted as he walked through them towards her, his hands on his hips. “Did you climb up there all by yourself?”
“Of course,” she answered the obvious.
He shook his head and glanced at his brother, who was grinning up at her with delight. He turned back to his wife.
“Come down from there,” he motioned sternly.
She squatted and was preparing to slip down when he waved her off. “Nay, do not climb down and risk that dress.” He stood next to the pole and held out his arms. “Jump and I shall catch you.”
Without hesitation, she did, and landed easily in his arms. His hands instinctively tightened about her, and her arms grabbed hold of his neck for support, bringing their two faces very, very close. She kept waiting for him to set her down, but he didn’t.
“So you like to watch swordfights?” he asked, feeling rather giddy at her closeness.
She shrugged, feeling the same giddiness he was. “Sometimes,” she replied. “Truthfully, I thought you were still mad at Jeffrey and were planning to kill him.”
He cracked a faint smile. “And you thought to stop me?”
She looked away. “I would have tried.”
He chuckled then. “You are brave, my lady.”
She didn’t answer him as David and Edward and the other knights approached, all appraising her quite openly.
“I see that all of the humiliation and trouble we went through was well worth it, Lady de Lohr,” David remarked.
“The dress is beautiful but not as beautiful as you, my lady,” Leeton put in, bowing slightly and with a grin on his face.
Dustin hated sweet words but she controlled herself. “Thank you, my lords,” she replied, letting go of Christopher’s neck and pushing herself from his arms.
“We failed to see you at the nooning meal, my lady,” Edward said. “An injustice I should hope would be corrected this evening?”
Dustin remembered her sore bottom, not daring to glance back at Christopher. “Mayhap,” she replied vaguely. She was embarrassed by all of the attention, something she was unused to in large numbers. She could handle one man’s attention, but several men flustered her. “I must go,” she said quickly.
She started to move but suddenly there was a shout high atop the wall and all attention immediately turned to the source.
“Riders!” came the cry again.
“Are they flying a banner?” Christopher called back.
After a pause, there was a wave. “Prince John’s colors.”
Dustin looked up at Christopher in time to see his expression darken and she was startled, wondering why.
“Open the gates!” Her husband yelled back after a moment, then turned to his men. “Keep your swords ready, lads.”
Dustin wondered what on earth he meant by that when suddenly he looked down as if he had forgotten she was there.
“Max,” he gestured to the dark-haired knight. “Take my wife into the keep, if you please.”
She ignored the soldier’s outstretched hand. “Why would Prince John be here?” she asked.
“To see me,” Christopher replied evasively. “Go with Max, Dustin.”
“Wait,” she said, putting her hand on his arm. “I want to see the Prince. I have never seen him before.”
Christopher had so many other things on his mind that he did not want to deal with her at this moment. He turned to her swiftly.
“Mayhap another time,” he said quickly. “Now, go. Please.”
Puzzled and perhaps a bit rebuffed, she allowed Max to take her away and into the castle.
Yet as soon as he had closed the entry door behind her, she waited until she heard the knight’s footfalls fade back down the steps before opening the door again and slipping out onto the landing.
She wasn’t being deliberately disobedient more than she was simply curious. She’d never seen a prince before.
*
Christopher knew that Prince John himself would not have come to the far reaches of the realm, preferring to stay in London surrounded by his silly, pampered, evil courtiers.
Yet he was tense and on guard, knowing exactly who would be riding though his gates, and he could taste the dislike on his tongue.
There was only one man John felt capable of carrying his messages, a man widely hated for his conniving and diabolical mind.
Christopher had been away for three years, yet even so, he could barely speak the name Ralph Fitz Walter without choking on it.
He stood in the middle of the bailey surrounded by his knights, waiting in silence.
The riding party had been spotted from the east as it rounded the crest of the gentle hill leading into the small village, and would take time before they entered the gates.
Time enough for him to reflect on his personal mission from Richard, on the answers he would give Fitz Walter.
When the party finally entered the gates, there were several gaily dressed men on colorful horses, surrounding a particularly dressed-down man in mail and black. The rest of the rather large group were soldiers of the prince, and Christopher ordered them kept outside the gates.