Chapter Eleven #3
“One thing at a time,” he cut in, though he was smiling. “There will be very little time for seeing the sights, but I have decided that there is one trip we will most definitely make.”
“And what is that?” she asked.
“To the Street of the Jewelers,” he said, noticing her puzzled look. “When I married you, I neglected to give you a bridal gift. I would make amends now.”
“But…but you gave me a ring,” she glanced down at her pretty little band. “I remember you told me it was a bargain.”
He let out an embarrassed sigh. “Well, yes, I did,” he said. He had told her it was a bargain so she wouldn’t think he had gone to any trouble for her. He was sorry for his statement now. “Nevertheless, I want to select something pretty for you.”
She shrugged carelessly. “My mother had coffers of jewels. I do not care much for flashy jewelry.”
“I know that,” he replied, “although you are the one woman in this world who would justify such an extravagance. I want to select a gift that you will wear, always. Something you will be proud to wear. Something that will remind you of me.”
She cocked her head. “We could have a jeweler smelt a gold mask of your face and I could wear it on a chain so everyone would know who I was married to.”
He laughed. “Everyone already knows who you are married to. That was established following the first few moments of your arrival.”
She watched him for a moment, his handsome face creased with mirth. “Chris?”
“What, sweet?”
She looked at him hesitantly for a moment. “If I…if I were to purchase a wedding ring for you, would you wear it?”
His smile faded and his expression turned amazingly tender. “Aye, Dustin, if you were to buy me a ring, I should be proud to wear it.”
“You would?” she was astonished.
“I said I would,” he answered.
She grinned. “Then when we go to the Street of the Jewelers, I shall buy you a ring just like mine, only much bigger.”
“Not too big. I want to be able to lift my hand without assistance,” he quipped.
She giggled, very pleased that he would wear a token of their union.
They continued to sit together a few moments in silence, happy to be together again.
Christopher had a great many things to attend to but was reluctant to leave Dustin, considering the boldness of the prince.
He quickly decided the best way to protect her was to keep her with him, even in improper situations like drilling the troops or practicing on the field.
He knew she wouldn’t mind, and he would feel much better knowing she was only an arm’s length away.
’Twould be much harder for Ralph or John to contact her if he were only a stone’s throw distance.
“How would you like to go with me about my duties?” he asked.
Dustin’s face lit up, as he knew it would. “Can I? Oh, yes, I would like that.”
“Good,” he smiled and stood, letting her fall gently to her feet. “Gather your cloak, my love, for it promises to be brisk.”
She smiled happily and moved quickly to the mirror to straighten her hair as he cursed himself silently. There he went calling her “my love” again. He would have to stop himself from calling her that before it became a nasty habit.
He moved swiftly to his armor in the corner, donning most of it before Dustin helped him with the mail hood and gloves. But before he could put his helmet on, she jumped up and latched onto his neck, kissing him hard on the lips.
“Thank you, husband,” she whispered happily.
He grinned back at her. “For what?”
She shrugged and let go of him, securing her cloak. “For taking me with you, for protecting me. For everything.”
“You may thank me as you did anytime,” he winked at her, putting his helmet on.
Taking her hand in his huge mailed fist, he led her from the room.
*
Even though it was late in the afternoon, Windsor was alive with people.
Christopher took her to the tournament arena where his men were and she was awed at the sight of the stands and the colorful banners that were going up all around.
There were hundreds of servants and craftsmen seeing to every detail of the arena and surrounding vendor booths.
“Where is your banner?” she asked her husband.
Christopher pointed to a massive banner in the shape of a three-point shield, a rich blue with a golden lion set into it. The lion was rearing on its hind legs, a sword clutched in its claw and a laurel wreath on its head. It was a truly magnificent banner and easily outshone the others.
“It’s beautiful,” she said sincerely.
Christopher pointed to a banner a couple of flags down. “That is the de Lohr banner, for Lohrham Forest.” It was a green and yellow banner with a hunting bird on it.
Dustin studied it. “Why are there two different banners for you?”
“Nay, sweetheart, my banner is the blue and gold,” he told her. “It stands for my title and Lioncross Abbey. The other one is for my uncle and our family name.”
“Are there going to be knights from Lohrham Forest competing?” she asked.
“There are only three knights at Lohrham, and yes, they are going to be here,” he said. “They will compete for my uncle’s honor. I will compete for mine.”
He took her around the arena where several men were practicing jousting with straw-stuffed dummies. Dustin was so involved with watching them that she nearly tripped twice.
Christopher held her hand tightly, amused at her fascination. He had been around knights and tournaments for so long that it was refreshing to see it through the eyes of one who had never seen the spectacle before.
In a clearing next to the arena, Christopher’s knights were practicing hand-to-hand fighting with several other knights.
The two of them stood on the perimeter for several minutes, watching Marcus plow through several knights and not even raise a sweat.
He stopped when he caught sight of Christopher and Dustin and smiled brightly.
“An audience,” he said loudly, removing his helmet as he approached them. “Just what I like to have.”
“Marcus, you are a wonderful fighter,” Dustin gushed. “Those men didn’t have a chance.”
Marcus glanced at Christopher. “Obviously you have not seen your husband in the ring, my lady. The gods are envious of his talent.”
Dustin grinned, catching sight of David and Leeton. She called out to them and David motioned her over, and she went to him as eager as a child.
“What is she doing here?” Marcus murmured casually to Christopher.
Christopher’s eyes were on his wife as he replied. “I felt it safer to keep her with me at all times,” he replied quietly. “After what happened, I will not let her out of my sight. Besides, this is all new to her and she loves it. She will be no trouble.”
Marcus nodded in agreement. “I must confess I had no idea what we would find in John’s apartments,” he muttered, fussing with his gauntlet. “With the prince hung like a bull, he has torn many a young woman asunder and I half expected Dustin to fall prey.”
Christopher shook his head. “You do not know my wife very well,” he said. “She may be innocent, but she packs a punch. She would fight him with her dying breath.”
Dustin turned around and called out to them, motioning them to join her. Christopher started to comply but Marcus backed off.
“I have got more rounds, Chris,” he said, replacing his helmet.
“Then we shall see you in my apartment before supper,” Christopher replied. “I should like us all to attend the meal together in a show of unity.”
“Agreed,” Marcus nodded. “That will throw the fear of God into John. With the Lion’s Claw and Richard’s premier general in the room, he ought to be throwing fits on the rushes before the night is out.”
Christopher grinned as the two went their separate ways.
Dustin spent the rest of the fading daylight watching her husband and his men work over the other knights on the combat field. Someone had brought her a chair and she sat on the edge of it, her eyes riveted to the fighting before her.
It was clear early on that Marcus had been right.
Christopher was easily the best soldier there. She has seen him fight before, but briefly. Here in this setting, he was constant and omnipotent, dropping men easily. Her heart swelled with excitement and pride when she thought of him winning the tournament tomorrow.
He joined her after an hour or so of knocking over weaker men. When he removed his helmet, she promptly stood up and kissed him loudly on the cheek.
“What was that for?” he asked.
“For being brilliant and strong,” she said giddily. “And Marcus. I must congratulate him, too, for being almost as good.”
“Do not kiss him,” Christopher said in a low voice, shaking out his helmet. “A simple handshake will do.”
She gazed at him for a moment, her joviality fading.
It was becoming increasingly apparent that Christopher must never know what happened between her and Marcus.
As protective and possessive as he was, there was no telling how he would react, and Marcus’ life might be in serious jeopardy. Mayhap her life, too.
Trying to gage him, mayhap trying to anticipate his reaction, she pressed forward in her usual manner.
“No handshake,” she teased. “I will give Marcus a big, wet kiss right on the lips.”
He simply shook his head, removing his gauntlets and shaking the perspiration out of them. Not receiving an immediate answer, she turned her attention back to the field.
“Your kiss to Marcus would be the kiss of death.” He said it so casually that she almost didn’t catch his words. “I would run him through and take delight in it…Marcus!”
She jumped when he yelled to his knight, feeling sick inside.
Even as Marcus jogged over and the two of them engaged in a tactical conversation, she still felt dulled and nauseated.
She decided to never again bring up the subject and to pretend that it never, ever happened.
Mayhap if she pretended long enough she would come to believe it.