Chapter Six #6
“No one likes him,” he replied, balancing the load as she opened the door. “The man is a snake.”
Dustin watched him as he passed through the archway. “He called you by a title,” she said thoughtfully. “What was it?”
“Baron?” he said.
“Nay, something else,” she replied. “All I could hear was the word ‘Defender.’ What did he call you?”
They made their way to the narrow spiral stairs and he descended them with some effort, squeezing his bulk down the shaft. He waited until they had exited the front door of the castle before answering her.
“Defender of the Realm,” he said.
“What is that?” she asked.
“It means that while Richard is away, I am his strength at home,” he said. “I answer only to him.”
She looked surprised. “You do not even take orders from Prince John?”
He shook his head. “Nay, only Richard,” he replied. “His troops are mine to command. Prince John may only use their strength if he gains my permission.”
Dustin was stunned. Christopher de Lohr, her husband, was the king’s champion, Defender of the Realm.
King Richard, of all England. Why hadn’t she known this?
Her mind was reeling with the enormity and surprise of it all and she almost tripped on the front steps.
He cautioned her and she found she could not take her eyes from him.
She had heard the dark man call him by the title, yet because she was so fearful for her own hide, it had made no impact on her. She felt the impact fully now.
“You have so much power?” she managed to ask, totally in awe.
He glanced down at her. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Her mouth opened. “Because you are the Defender of the Realm and I did not even know it.”
He shrugged, whistling to a soldier for his destrier to be brought around. Her mouth still hanging open, she walked around so she could look him in the face.
“Is there any other titles I should know about?” she asked, half irritated. “Mayhap, did God himself grant you a title you have failed to tell me of?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Not that I am aware of,” he told her. “And I have no other titles. Except for one, which really isn’t a title, simply a nickname.”
“And what is that?” she demanded, thinking it was mayhap something even more auspicious than the titles she already knew of.
“Lion’s Claw,” he said, turning to watch his destrier being brought forth. “Saladin’s men called me the Lion’s Claw.”
She gazed at him, her irritation fading. “Why?”
His attention went back to her, and he found himself drawn to the pretty style in which her hair was arranged. A bit careless, but pretty nonetheless.
“Everyone knows how powerful a lion is, but even a lion is limited without his claws,” he said. “The Saracen’s believed Richard to be the force, the power if you will. Yet I was his most deadly weapon, his claws.”
This knowledge brought new respect to the man, in her eyes.
She stared back at him as she absorbed the information, her mind completely overwhelmed with the knowledge.
This man, whom she had struck, yelled at, baited, and struggled with at every opportunity was nearly the most powerful man in the kingdom.
Along with the new awareness came a new set of worries.
No wonder he didn’t want to marry her; a mere baron’s daughter, she was not worthy of him in the least. The Defender of the Realm should have a refined, worldly wife, not a naive little waif with a bad temper and a stubborn streak.
She struggled with insecurities she never knew she had, confused and overcome as she was, wondering why the man had even lowered himself to speak with her much less marry her.
She felt self-conscious and unworthy to even be near him.
“Did you want Lioncross so badly?” she murmured as he loaded the items onto his charger.
He glanced at her. “What did you say?”
She just stared back at him, not sure if she wanted to repeat herself, unsure as to why she said it in the first place.
But she suddenly knew one thing, she could not go to London and embarrass him.
When the prince and his fine court people saw the champion’s new bride, it would surely make him the laughing stock of London. She could not do that to him.
“Nothing,” she was backing away. “I….I mean, I forgot something. You go on head; you do not need me.”
She turned and bolted for the castle, hearing him shout her name but not stopping for one moment to respond. Once inside, she raced through the great hall, into the kitchens, and out through the back door and into the small kitchen yard that contained the buttery and the cold house.
There was a small, fortified gate in the wall.
She yanked it open, slamming it behind her as she continued to tear out into the soft green countryside.
Her legs pumped and her heart pounded, and tears of bitterness streamed down her face.
She didn’t know why she was so upset, but she was.
For her and for him. The marriage was a disaster from the very beginning and it would only get worse.
She raced down a small incline and into a bank of trees, coming through on the other side and on into another dense bank of trees. She ran and ran until she could run no more, until her muscles burned and she had to stop or she would collapse.
There was a small pond to her right. She veered for it drunkenly, sobs rising in her throat until she finally flopped down into the soft, cool grass, crying her heart out for so many reasons. She could not stop to grasp just one.