Chapter Fifteen #4
Dustin glanced at Christopher, who was looking at his friend. As Christopher gazed at the man, the waste and the selflessness of Marcus’ actions gripped him like a vise and he felt his pride, his rigidness abate.
“How bad, Marcus?” he pressed quietly.
Marcus looked at the bandage, touched it. “Most of the bones in my hand are broken, as well as my elbow,” he said. “The physician seems to think that my arm, when it heals, will be virtually useless.”
Dustin gasped, a hand flying to her mouth. “Oh, Marcus, that’s terrible,” she exclaimed softly. “But surely the physician is wrong. Why, once your hand is healed, ’twill only be a matter of building your strength again.”
“Or learning to fight with my left hand,” Marcus smiled at her, his eyes dulled.
Dustin returned his smile sympathetically. “Marcus, I am truly sorry for you. You are the greatest fighter I have ever seen, next to Christopher, of course. You will be again, someday, I know it.” She reached out and gingerly touched the stiff bandage. “How did it happen?”
Marcus didn’t even look at Christopher, keeping his eyes focused on Dustin’s blond head. “It’s not even worth mentioning, my lady, truly. What’s done is done, and I’ve moved on.”
Dustin didn’t press anymore. Christopher wouldn’t tell her how it happened, and neither would Marcus, and she suspected that one had to do with the other.
“I hear that you are now a great and powerful baron,” she said, trying to shift the subject to something less morose. “Congratulations, Marcus. Richard will be most pleased.”
He nodded. “I hope so, as I am eager to see my holding,” he said. “The winters are hell that far north, though.”
She grinned, her eyes alive. “They cannot be worse than winters on the Welsh border. We freeze sometimes for six straight months.”
“Do you hear that, Chris?” Marcus actually looked at him. “You have six months of the deep freeze to look forward to.”
Christopher cracked a half smile. “Then I am pleased to have you to commiserate with.”
Marcus snorted. “I am not entirely sure I am equipped to handle a cold winter any longer,” he said. “Winters in the Holy Land were beautiful and mild. I fear I have been spoiled.”
Christopher nodded. “As have I,” he said. “I am ashamed to admit it.”
Dustin, happy that they were at least talking civilly, took the opportunity to slip from the room. She rose from her chair and put her hand on Marcus’ shoulder.
“My husband wishes to speak with you, Marcus, so I will leave you two alone.” She patted his shoulder before moving for the door. Christopher, standing in front of her like a huge movable wall, crossed his arms.
“And where do you plan to go?” he asked pointedly. “I will not have you wandering the halls of the knight’s quarters alone.”
“That is true, my lady,” Marcus rose. “I am sure your husband doesn’t mind if you hear what he has to say.”
Christopher looked over her head to Marcus.
“Nay,” he said after a moment. “I simply….Marcus, I know that whatever I say is grossly inadequate considering what has happened, but all the same I wanted you to know that….well, that I am so very sorry for the way I acted, and for what I said. I cannot explain myself except to say that I was foolish. Whether or not you forgive me is your privilege, but I wanted you to know my feelings just the same.”
Marcus gazed back at him, his cobalt blue eyes unreadable. Christopher, positive the man was going to throw him bodily from the room then and there, cleared his throat and continued.
“Dustin will be awarding prizes at the tournament tomorrow,” he said. “I would consider it an honor and a personal favor if you would act as her protector.”
Marcus knew how hard that request must have been for Christopher. Truth was, he would like nothing better. He was almost as good with a sword in his left hand, as he was with his right hand, although most people didn’t know it. But Christopher knew it, else he would not have asked.
Marcus didn’t blame Christopher for anything, for all of the events stemmed from his blunder. If the situation had been reversed, he doubted he would have acted with as much control as Christopher had, in spite of everything that had happened.
“ ’Twould be my pleasure, my lord,” he said after a moment, his heart melted by Dustin’s huge smile.
Christopher nodded shortly. “My thanks,” he said. “What did John say of your injury?”
That seemed to bring some humor to Marcus’ lips.
“He was only just here moments before your arrival,” he replied.
“His personal physician tended me, you know. To say the prince is furious is an understatement, especially in light of the fact that I had all of my conditions put in writing and he cannot do a damn thing about it. I am a baron by his hand whether or not he likes it, and he has no champion at the tournament tomorrow.”
Dustin, feeling the tension of the room drain away, was happier than she had been in a few days. She leaned into Christopher, feeling his arm go about her waist.
“We are going to the Street of the Jewelers, Marcus,” she said. “Please accompany us.”
Marcus waved her off. “Nay, my lady, as much as I would like to, I have been ordered to rest and I must say that my arm throbs.”
“Of course,” Dustin nodded. “Then mayhap we will see you at supper?”
“I would not miss it,” he replied. “That is, if the baron is gracious enough to allow me the company of his knights and wife.”
“You are my vassal, it is expected that you are with me at all times,” Christopher said firmly, rescinding his order of dismissal he had issued the night before and hoping to make it sound firm enough that Marcus would not dare back down.
But the man was a baron now, too, and was no longer subject to Christopher’s orders. “If that is agreeable,” he added.
Marcus grinned at the addition of the last sentence.
“It is,” he replied. “Did you know that John granted me five hundred troops to take with me to Somerhill? As big as your force, I might add. The task at hand is selecting my knights. If you have no objection, I will be taking Dud and Trent with me.”
“None at all, as they are your men,” Christopher replied. “There are many fine knights at Windsor because of the tournament and tomorrow should provide you with a great opportunity to view their skills.”
Marcus nodded. “I already have at least two men in mind.”
“Who?” Christopher was suddenly all talk, all business.
Dustin listened to her husband and his vassal, almost weak with relief. Once again they were talking as they had when she had first met Marcus, before all of the ugly scenes and words. Therefore, she was perfectly content to stand there patiently whereas before, she would have whined to leave.
They left Marcus to rest almost an hour later.
Dustin by then was truly bored, twitching restlessly until Christopher finally excused himself.
They left the knight’s housing and proceeded back across the grounds, their pace unhurried and their talk light.
She could scarce believe that this morn she had been desperately angry at him, unsure of any feelings she had.
Strange how everything became abundantly clear in a matter of minutes.
“To the Street of the Jewelers, then?” Christopher asked as they left the knight’s quarters, taking her hand and all but forgetting about the practice rounds going on in the arena down the slope.
She nodded. “I would buy you that massive ring now.”
He was grinning, scratching at his beard underneath his mail hood. “This beard itches something fierce when I perspire. What say you were I to shave it off?”
She was amazed that he had asked her opinion and took the question seriously. “You are most handsome with it off or on,” she said. “If it irritates you, then shave it off.”
“But I will no longer be able to scratch you when I kiss you,” he teased, grabbing her and rubbing her cheek with his beard until she screamed.
“Shave the bloody thing off!” she yelled, smiling, as he released her. “You like to use it to torture me.”
“True,” he agreed. “Then mayhap I shall keep it.”
They laughed together and continued to the stables.