Chapter Twenty-Nine #3
William glanced at Christopher, a bit embarrassed at his display of feeling. “ ’Tis nothing, really,” he said, shrugging. “You did know that I knew your mother, didn’t you?”
“Aye,” Christopher said evenly. “Uncle Philip told me you were in love with my mother, once.”
William grinned. “Once, many years ago,” he said.
“I was newly knighted at the time and your mother, God rest her soul, was part of a fighting force I was attached to. Never did I see a lovelier woman, Christopher. Skin as pure as cream, hair like a golden fire. Aye, Val du Reims was indeed a beauty.” He finally drew up a chair.
“But she did not even know I existed, especially after dashing Myles de Lohr came on the scene. Lord, your father was an imposing sight.”
Christopher gazed at William steadily, impassively listening to the man reflect.
“I lost both of my parents when I was fourteen years old, and David was ten,” he said softly.
“I was squiring at Derby, as was my brother. I had been a page there since I was six, so I remember very little of my mother. But I remember her giddy laugh and her endless affection towards David and me. We were the only survivors of five births, you know, with Deborah being the last.”
William reflected on Val de Lohr, the woman who had been allowed to fight like a knight, and was a very good one, until she married Myles de Lohr. De Lohr had put an end to his fighting wife rather quickly.
“Your mother passed away when Deborah was very young, as I recall,” William said quietly.
Christopher nodded. “My parents were quite old when I was born, and older still when David and Deborah were born,” he said, thinking back.
“My mother passed away when Deborah was less than a year old and my father passed away shortly after her. A fatal disease, the physic told us. ’Twas a malady of the lungs that took them both.
Fortunately, the physic spirited Deborah away before she could catch it. She was raised in Bath.”
“I remember hearing of the tragic circumstances,” William replied quietly, his eyes warm with remembrance.
“Aye, Val de Lohr will always remain the most beautiful woman I ever had the fortune to gaze upon. You remind me a great deal of her, actually. Sometimes when you smile, I see her. David is a duplicate of your father, I think.”
Christopher shrugged, sitting back in his chair. “I would hope so. My father was a great knight.”
“He was indeed, Chris, he was indeed,” William agreed passionately. “You must forgive me for wandering. We are far from the subject at hand.”
“Indeed we are,” Longchamp interjected with a bit of sarcasm. “Let’s return to Richard, shall we?”
Christopher glanced at the taciturn man. Longchamp was bitter, stubborn and aggressive and Christopher held little like for the man other than he was able to deal with John on the prince’s own level.
“My apologies, my lord,” he said, not meaning it. “As for Richard, mayhap it would be best to wait until we receive word from Leopold as to his demands. Truthfully, there is nothing more we can do until we have more information.”
“Chris is right,” William agreed, yawning. “We must play the waiting game and send word to Eleanor in the interim.”
Longchamp drained his glass and set it down heavily. “I must say, you are all being rather calm about the whole thing,” he said.
“Richard is being held captive and neither of you barely raise your voice. Are you truly unconcerned or is it a grand act for John’s sake? Well?”
“What would you have us do, William?” Marshal asked.
“Scream? Rage? Shout to the rooftops that Leopold and the Lion will suffer greatly for their acts? We knew Richard was in danger and have already had time to accept it; now we finally know the result of the danger. ’Tis not a matter of remaining calm, but of keeping a clear head to better deal with events.
But you are correct in your assessment that we remain collected for John’s sake; unfortunately, the man is gaining advantage as we speak and I will allow him no opportunity to exploit our weaknesses.
Whatever happens, we must remain strong and united or Richard’s throne is lost.”
Longchamp’s agitated gaze visibly relaxed.
“You are right, of course,” he said with resignation, rising.
“Then it would seem we should retreat for the remainder of the night and see what the morrow brings. I will call the justices together after the morning meal and we will continue this conversation to include them.”
Christopher was up, moving for the door, his mind rapidly moving from Richard to Dustin. “Then good sleep to you, my lords.”
“Sleep well, Chris,” Marshal said after him.
With the Defender gone, Longchamp faced Marshal.
“Will he survive this?” he asked softly.
William shrugged. “He’s the best knight who has ever lived, William, and we are mightily fortunate that he fights for Richard.
But John will try to seize the throne by force, and Christopher will be compelled to defend his king’s holdings.
” He sighed wearily, feeling older than his years.
“I hope he survives whatever John is planning, for with Christopher gone we will be hard-pressed to defend ourselves.”
“Civil war is imminent, William, we both know that,” Longchamp said flatly.
“I know.” Marshal turned a distant gaze out of the grand windows in Longchamp’s antechamber, smelling the freshness that was his beloved England.
He had served two kings, knowing his service had aged him beyond his years.
Yet his duties had been administrative for the most part, not field oriented as Christopher’s were.
As hard as the justices worked to maintain Richard’s throne, it was nothing compared to the physical toll the Defender was in for.
The governing body would make the decisions from a comfortable chair, and Christopher would enforce them with a thirty pound blade in his massive hand.
William had lived a full life. He wondered if Christopher de Lohr would do the same.