Chapter Forty-One
Word of the Defender’s passing spread through England like wildfire. Ralph and John, having been at Nottingham when Sir Dennis had brought them the news, partied for three days. Lady Gabrielle, on John’s arm, wept through the night. Surely nothing could save England now.
Richard disembarked at the Tower to be met by the justices, welcoming him home to English soil with one breath and notifying him of the current situation with the next.
John held fourteen castles and Christopher de Lohr was dead, killed in battle at Gowergrove Castle.
Deeply distressed and seriously exhausted, Richard had shed public tears at his brave friend’s passing.
Sir Philip de Lohr, disembarking with Richard, crossed himself and went immediately to Winchester Abbey where he prayed for two straight days.
David, now betrothed to Emilie Hampton and serving Lyle Hampton, heard from the earl of his brother’s passing.
His pain was so great that Lyle ordered David locked in his room with a constant guard on his person, terrified his future son-in-law would take his own life.
He knew of Christopher and David’s falling out, and he furthermore feared David would never be the same.
A violent argument between two brothers would now never be resolved, and David was inconsolable.
Even Emilie could not bring him out of his depression.
But David was made of strong blood, and after his initial shock and pain dulled, he kissed Emilie goodbye and set out for London to see Richard.
He knew the king would want to see him, but his stay in London would be short.
After that, he vowed to continue to Lioncross and beg Dustin’s forgiveness, hoping she would allow him to comfort her.
And mayhap, she could comfort him as well.
He could not deal with the fact that Christopher had gone to his grave hating him.
Marcus Burton even heard of Christopher’s death and Richard’s return by way of a traveling Scot lord.
Holed up at Somerhill, Marcus had had virtually no contact with the outside world, shunning missives and denying entrance to any outsiders.
The less he knew of London and the ways of the world, the easier it was to forget about Dustin.
He had been fairly happy for the past year at his new keep, ruling the baronetcy fairly and justly; he was greatly loved by his vassals.
He had even selected a woman he thought would make an excellent mother for his sons, but the moment he heard of Christopher’s death, everything was dashed.
The pain and loss he felt was overwhelming and he spent two days in his solar, drinking away his guilt and pain.
But when the liquor dried up, so did he, and he immediately decided to set forth to Lioncross.
With Christopher gone, he planned to do what he had always wanted to do.
He would claim Dustin, and woe to any man who would try to stop him.
Richard, John and Ralph… he cared not for their problems anymore.
With each passing moment, the only thing of importance to him was Lady Dustin de Lohr.
Somehow he knew Christopher would approve of him taking care of his wife and, by God, he would not only take care of her.
He would worship the ground she walked on.
How could Christopher want for anything more than that?
The only person who had not immediately heard of Christopher’s death was his wife.
Dustin went about her business every day, taking care of her growing daughter and running Lioncross with Gowen.
In the morning she would see to the day’s needs, and in the afternoon, she would till the frozen ground in the garden in preparation for the spring plant.
She was happy as she tried to keep busy, easing the pain of separation from her husband, but she consoled herself with the knowledge that he would return home to her.
She had grown confident in his ability to stay alive and counted the days until his return. She could hardly wait to hold him.
Late one afternoon in February, the returning army was sighted.
Dustin was in her bedchamber with the maids when she heard the cry go up from the wall, and all three of the women raced to the window to catch sight of the approaching troops.
They could see the blue and gold of Christopher’s banners in the distance.
Glee surged through Dustin. Chasing the maids out, she donned her very best surcoat, one of burnished gold that Christopher loved so much, and carefully brushed her long hair.
She wanted to look good for him and make him glad that he had returned to her.
In her excitement, she called into the nursery and had Griselda dress Christin in a clean frock so the baby could greet her father properly.
All of Lioncross was in an uproar. Edward was in the foyer, moving to the front doors when Dustin hung over the balcony overhead and yelled at him not to detain her husband with a bunch of silly war tales.
There would be time for that later. He grinned and waved her off, joining Jeffrey in the bailey.
He noticed that Jeffrey’s’ face was grave.
“What’s wrong?” Edward demanded, still smiling from Dustin’s comments. “How can you possibly have a sour face on this day of days?”
“I count only five knights,” Jeffrey said. “And I do not see the baron’s horse.”
Edward shrugged. “Mayhap he remained in London. Richard is, after all, returned and I am sure there is much to discuss.”
Jeffrey shrugged in agreement, but his sense of uneasiness did not dissipate. In fact, as the huge gates yawned open and the knights spilled in through the opening, his apprehension increased. He did not know why; mayhap it was simply an overactive feeling on his part.
Edward wasn’t concerned in the least as the knights rode in. He did, however, notice Leeton was missing and that concerned him a bit, but not overly. The knights rode directly to him, reining their weary mounts to a halt in the dusk.
“Max and Anthony,” Edward greeted pleasantly. “Good Lord, don’t tell me Chris was detained in London with Richard. My lady is going to have fits.”
Anthony dismounted, followed slowly by the others. By their sheer movements, Edward was alerted and his heart leapt into his throat. Without a word, they had conveyed much. Edward’s smile vanished.
Anthony removed his helm. When his brown eyes met Edward’s, there was nothing more to say. His expression said everything. Edward’s face went as white as plaster and he felt bile rise in his throat.
“Oh….no, Anthony,” he breathed. “Please… Chris is not coming home, is he?”
Anthony dug into his tunic and with the most reverent of gestures, held Christopher’s wedding ring out to Edward. The man simply stared at it, unable to make a conscious decision to move and do anything with it. It was almost as if he were not truly grasping what he was seeing.
Jeffrey finally took the ring. “How did it happen?” he asked quietly.
Anthony did not look anything like the man who had left Lioncross a mere month earlier. He looked older, more haggard.
“The last day of the battle for Gowergrove,” he said quietly.
“We are not sure how it happened, but we found him in two feet of mud buried beneath his horse. You understand there wasn’t much left to bury, Edward.
We buried him on a rise overlooking Gowergrove.
We did not want to bring him back here for… .her….to see.”
Edward blinked and two fat tears rolled down his cheeks, dashed away by his shaking hand. “You did right, of course,” he said softly. “And Leeton? He perished also?”
“Aye,” Anthony nodded wearily. “We never did find his body. With the rain and mud, ’twas nearly impossible. Then when the mud dried up before we could completely clear the field of battle, there was no chance to find him.”
Edward wiped his hand across his face. “God be merciful,” he breathed, trying desperately to compose himself. “Does Richard know?”
“All of England knows,” Anthony replied. “We had to stop in London to leave off the crown troops, and Richard had declared a day of mourning. Sir Philip is inconsolable. I do not even know if David knows.”
“No doubt he does by now, if he is in Canterbury,” Edward replied, struggling for his composure. “I wonder if he will return to Lioncross now that….”
Anthony’s eyes widened and Edward stiffened, knowing Dustin had been sighted.
He knew he should rush to her and take her inside to deliver the news, but he could not seem to move his legs.
It took all of his energy to turn around and face her as she descended the stairs, a quizzical smile on her lips.
When he saw the smile, he nearly snapped.
“Where is Chris?” she asked curiously, glancing about. Then, she looked annoyed. “Do not tell me he stayed behind in London with Richard. Why could not he have come home first?”
No one could answer her; all of their tongues were glued to the roof of their mouths.
Edward tried to force himself to move forward, to return her to the keep, but he could not make his body obey.
Dustin’s mouth pressed into an irritated line as she waited for an answer and he knew he had to say something, but he simply couldn’t find the correct words, praying to God to give him the strength to tell her that her husband was never coming home.
“So is it a surprise and he’s sworn everyone to secrecy?” She put her hands on her hips. “Well, somebody had better tell me or no one is going anywhere. Where is he? Did he go to Canterbury, by chance? I shall kill him if he attends David’s wedding without me.”