Chapter Fifty-Eight #3
Yet one thing struck him – since she had appeared, she had yet to look at him.
Or any of them, for that matter. His heart constricted painfully, for he knew that she refused to look at him because of the hatred she harbored.
His selfish actions, his complete ignorance of her feelings, had been why she had left.
Aye, he knew that now, and he could think of only one way to make restitution to her.
“Dustin, sweetheart,” he said hoarsely. “I love you.”
Her eyes flew open and her head jerked up, the huge gray eyes he knew so well boring into him like bolts of steel. Her eyes were swimming with unshed tears, held back by her astonishment.
“You do?” she gasped.
“Silence!” Ralph snapped.
Christopher ignored him. “Of course I do,” he said, longing in his tone. “Dustin, you know that. I love you more than my life, sweetheart. I always will.”
“But…,” she sputtered, relief beyond description filling her. “How can you say that afte…?”
“I told you to be silent!” Ralph boomed. “One more word and I take your wife back inside.”
Christopher wisely held his tongue; he was so desperate to see his wife that he did as he was told. Tearing his eyes away from her, he glared icily at Ralph.
“Let her go or I shall rip out your testicles with my bare hands,” he rumbled.
Ralph believed him, but he also knew that he wouldn’t do anything so long as he held Dustin captive. Christopher wouldn’t make a move with a crossbow aimed at his wife. The sheriff raised a cocky eyebrow.
“The mighty Defender,” he said sarcastically. “All of your skill and strength will not help you now, will it? It would seem that I hold all of the power now. And I will use it, have no doubt.”
“She’s of no use to you,” Christopher said evenly. “Richard is going to take this holding whether or not you hold my wife.”
“I think not,” Ralph snorted. “You won’t let him. If so much as an errant dagger flies in my direction, your wife will be instantly impaled, as will the child she carries. I would be doing the world a service by killing de Lohr’s son.”
Christopher kept his calm outwardly, but inside he was raging like a wildfire. He looked from Ralph to Dustin again. “Are you alright, sweet?”
She nodded unsteadily. “I am fine.”
He smiled at her, much to Ralph’s displeasure. “I am sorry, sweetheart. For everything. Please forgive me.”
“De Lohr?” Ralph yelled, moving himself so that he was in the line of sight between Christopher and his wife. “Mayhap you do not understand my words? I told you to be silent.”
Christopher was focused on Ralph. “You will not take that tone with me, Fitz Walter.”
“I can do anything I damn well please,” Ralph retorted. “ ’Tis I who hold the power… and your wife.”
He did. Christopher forced himself to acknowledge the fact that Dustin was in serious danger and further forced himself to realize that he was going to have to deal with Ralph on his own terms.
“What is it that you want, then?” he asked coldly.
Ralph looked him over as if contemplating something vile. A sickening smile came to his mouth. “I want to see you kneel, de Lohr,” he said. “I want to see you kneel before me and beg for your wife’s life. I may be merciful.”
Dustin heard the words, watching Christopher’s reaction.
When Ralph had come for her an hour ago in her rooms, awakening her from a dead sleep, he snatched her to him rapidly, only to keep her standing in the inner bailey.
She had no idea what he intended to do. The thought of humiliating Christopher publicly never occurred to her, and she was stricken with the cruelty.
She could handle anything he dealt her, but she was consumed with protectiveness for her husband.
Christopher loved her. He had said it and begged for her forgiveness.
She was confused and thrilled and anguished all at the same time.
She wanted nothing more than to collapse in his embrace but the soldier holding her arms and the one setting his sights on her belly would have something to say about it.
She wondered if fainting would do any good.
Would they leave her in a heap? Would it distract Ralph enough so that Christopher could gain the upper hand?
She just did not know and she was too fearful to attempt anything.
So she watched and waited, like everyone else.
Christopher eyed Ralph a moment, knowing he had no choice. The thought of kneeling to the man sickened him, but he would do anything to gain Dustin’s release. Yet he was well aware that Ralph could just as easily kill her anyway. Still, he could only do as he was asked.
With a movement as fluid and graceful as a cat, he went down on one knee and faced Ralph.
“I would then beg you to release my wife, Fitz Walter,” he said with nary a quiver of disgust in his voice.
Ralph chuckled softly and took a few steps towards him, his hands on his hips. “You can do better than that.”
“No, Chris!” Dustin yelled, twisting in the grip that held her. “Do not beg him, the evil bastard!”
Christopher did not look at his wife, he was focused on the sheriff. “I will again beg for mercy, my lord. Release my wife and I will be ever grateful.”
“Better, better,” Ralph inclined his head. “Mighty Defender. You do not look very mighty now.”
Tears came to Dustin then. She could not stand to see Christopher so humiliated, humbled in front of Richard and all of his knights. Big sobs came bubbling forth and she stopped struggling, hanging her head in sorrow.
“Do not beg him,” she moaned. “Please, Chris, do not.”
He could hear her sobs and they broke his heart. His careful control was slipping. “Give her to me, Ralph. Have you no compassion?”
“No,” Ralph said flatly. “Not for you, and not for your wife.”
Dustin would have done anything to get Christopher out of his predicament. Anything at all. Then the first crazy idea that popped into her mind was the one she went with. With a scream that would have made many a woman proud, she suddenly clutched her stomach and buckled her legs.
“My God!” she cried out. “The baby…..something is wrong.”
All men were afraid of pregnant women, and the battle-hardened soldiers of Nottingham and Richard’s forces were no exception.
All eyes snapped to her, even the soldiers on the wall who had heard her, and for a brief moment, confusion reigned in all of them.
Christopher, seized with panic, shot to his feet and started to run for his wife, but Ralph was closer.
The sheriff saw the Defender on a dead run toward his wife and panic of his own set in.
Using a pre-arranged signal, he raised his arm with the yell of a barbarian, signaling the archers on the wall to let loose their arrows.
Dustin, still clutching her stomach, really did scream as a rain of arrows cascaded down in Christopher’s direction.
Ralph was suddenly on her, bull-dogging her and the two soldiers back inside the small door.
The last glimpse Dustin had of her husband was of him being slammed with a hundred arrows.
The battle started in that split second. Richard sounded the battle cry and his troops moved, their yells filling the humid summer air and the sounds of unsheathing swords deafening.
Dustin, shrieking and crying, was dragged into the bailey and hastily thrust into the arms of several waiting guards.
“Take her to my room,” Ralph yelled above the noise of the infant battle. “Keep her there until I come for her.”
Dustin could not fight, she was far too stunned with witnessing what she was sure had been Christopher’s death. How could he have survived the hail of arrows? Her mind went to mud and her knees collapsed, and she felt herself being lifted and carried into the dark coolness that was Nottingham.
She welcomed the blackness of unconsciousness as it swallowed her up.
*
Christopher was very much alive. His reinforced armor had protected him from the arrows and even now he was mounting his destrier and swung the animal in the direction of the massive gates. His troops were taking the walls and he and his knights were able to focus on breeching the door.
Edward was beside him with two hotly burning torches in his hand. “We can set fire to the gates, my lord. With this heat, they will burn in no time.”
Christopher nodded, motioning for him to hand off a torch to David, and together the two of them set to burning the rope trappings of the gates.
Marcus gouged out great holes in the wood for David to ignite, speeding up the process.
With the ladders going up on the walls and the gates igniting like kindling, Christopher stood back and waited for his opportunity to tear Nottingham apart.
He could not even think about Dustin or he would surely go mad.
He had to keep his wits about him or he would be no good at all, and there were too many people depending on him.
Nay, he would have to keep a clear head and wait for the gates to burn down and only then would he allow himself the luxury of thinking of his wife.
Only when he was able to do some good would he let thoughts of her fill his brain.
“What happened to Dustin?” Marcus rushed up to him, his charger dancing and snorting.
Christopher rolled his eyes in defeat; just as he was gaining control of himself….. “I do not know, Marcus. It could have just been the excitement of everything.”
Thankfully, Marcus did not pursue it and Christopher was able to return his focus to the gate.
As was usual with old wood, it began to go up quite nicely in spite of the rain of arrows around the perimeter of Nottingham that prevented them from moving much closer.
Already, the men-at-arms were racking up casualties due to the arrows and Christopher ordered his men to fall back from the backside of the fortress.
With the gates burning, he would form ranks to charge in once the gates were down.
*