Chapter Six #4
The hour was late as Trenton sat at a table near the hearth, listening to the snoring going on around him as travelers seeking shelter were sleeping around the fringes of the room.
Over his head, snug and warm, Lysabel was sleeping in a big bed with her two daughters, both of them undoubtedly dreaming of their new ponies.
It had been an eventful day for them all.
Trenton’s thoughts lingered on the ponies, too, and the way Lysabel had looked at him when she realized how kind and generous he’d been with her daughters.
It was a look Trenton hadn’t seen from her before, one that caused his heart to race.
There was gratitude there, but there was also something else, and it was that something else that Trenton was currently contemplating.
He knew he shouldn’t.
Staring into the flames of the low-burning fire, he was feeling a great deal of turmoil. Lysabel was a woman, newly widowed, whose husband had been a beast. Now, she was free of him and she had a chance to find a decent man. Trenton only wished that man could be him.
But it was impossible.
Even if he hadn’t already been married, he wouldn’t have considered himself a decent prospect for her.
But in his defense, it wasn’t as if he’d been careless with women – his three marriages had stemmed from actions that had been reasonable at the time.
He’d married Alicia because it had been a good political match, and Iseuld because she’d been pretty and bright, and then Adela because his father had talked him into it soon after the death of Iseuld.
He’d been emotionally vulnerable at the time and he’d gone along with it but, in hindsight, he shouldn’t have.
Adela had been the worst mistake he could have possibly made.
A mistake he couldn’t fix.
Therefore, whatever longing he was developing for Lysabel was misplaced and wrong. He had no right at all to find her attractive, or hope she was seeing him as no longer the big, intimidating boy but now the powerful, handsome man. Nay, he had no right at all.
But he was hoping for all these things, nonetheless.
And he couldn’t seem to think straight about it.
“Why are you still awake?”
The voice came from behind and, startled, Trenton turned to see Lysabel walking up in the darkness, wrapped up in a heavy robe. Her hair was mussed, and she looked sleepy, but there was a smile on her face. He eyed her.
“Why are you still awake?” he countered. “You went to bed long ago.”
Her grin broadened as she sat down on a stool next to him.
“I did,” she agreed. “But Cissy and Cinny are so excited about the ponies that it took me a goodly long time to get them off to sleep. Now, Cinny is snoring and Cissy is kicking, so I cannot fall asleep. Besides, the travel has upset my stomach. I came down here to see if I could procure some warm milk. Maybe that will help me.”
Trenton was on his feet. “I will have it brought to you,” he said. “Sit right there. I will return.”
Before Lysabel could stop him, he wandered into the darkened rear of the tavern and in a few moments, she could hear voices. Someone was moving about. Soon enough, Trenton reappeared and reclaimed his seat.
“The tavern keeper will bring you some,” he said quietly. “But between the snoring and kicking, I am not sure it will do you any good.”
Lysabel laughed softly. “I can only try,” she said. Then, she took a second look at him. “You did not answer me. Why are you still awake? Is snoring and kicking keeping you awake also?”
He grinned. “Nay,” he said. “I do not sleep well as it is. I never have. When I am tired enough, I shall sleep, but it will probably be for no more than an hour or two at most. Besides, we must be up at dawn if we are to make it to Wellesbourne Castle by evening tomorrow.”
Lysabel nodded, her gaze moving to the flames. “I cannot believe we are almost there,” she sighed. “I cannot remember the last time I was at Wellesbourne Castle. Benoit always made my father come to us; we could never leave and visit him. I am very eager to see my papa.”
Trenton was watching her profile as the reflection from the flames flickered on her face. “As am I,” he said. “It has been several years. It has been several years since I have seen your father or my father, in fact. It seems like forever.”
She glanced at him. “When was the last time you saw your father?”
He inhaled slowly, deeply, pondering her question.
“At least six years,” he said. Since my father coerced me into marrying Adela.
But why couldn’t he tell her that? Somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to tell the woman he was married.
He didn’t feel married. He never had, at least not to Adela.
“My father and I have a rather… troubled relationship.”
Lysabel yawned, pulling the robe closer about her body against the chill of the room. “Your father always seemed like such a kind, wise man,” she said. “I know my father considers him a brother. May I ask what is so troubling with him?”
His relationship with his father wasn’t something he spoke of, but with Lysabel, there wasn’t any such restraint. It was easy to tell her things he kept down deep. She was easy to talk to.
“Many things, I suppose,” he said. “My profession, for one. My father did not want me to serve Henry in the capacity that I do. He does not feel that it is particularly noble.”
Lysabel looked at him. “I told you that I did not care what you did for Henry, and I do not,” she said. “But, clearly, it is something… important. I saw that when you burst into my chamber the night you took Benoit. You and your men were swift and skilled. You are warriors.”
“We are assassins,” Trenton rumbled. He cast her a sidelong glance, seeing the surprise on her face.
“You may as well know what I do, Lysabel. It is neither noble nor glorious. I am called the Crown’s Own Agent and I do what Henry tells me to do.
If he wants men brought to him, then it is my job to find them and bring them to Henry by whatever means necessary.
If he wants his enemies killed, then it is my job to kill them.
Have no illusions that whatever I do is great and honorable.
It is not. And my father does not approve. ”
Lysabel tried not to show any hint of judgment as she spoke.
“But… why?” she asked. “He is The Dark One, the man who betrayed King Richard at the Battle of Bosworth. I do not know much more than that, as I have never asked, but everyone knows what Gaston de Russe did. And your father feels it is his right to judge what you do?”
Trenton shrugged. “He wanted my reputation to be better than his.”
“And it is not?”
“Not even close.”
Lysabel could see that in that softly-uttered statement, there was some shame in Trenton’s tone.
It was the first time she’d seen the consummately confident knight show any hint of a reflection on his duties, perhaps even his life as a whole.
Trenton was a man who seemed to keep things well-hidden and as she realized that, she wondered what other secrets he might be hiding.
It was just a feeling she had.
“Then why do you do what you do?” she asked quietly. “You are a fine knight, Trenton, and you are an earl. You can simply retire to your estate and command your army and lead a fine and noble life. Why do you serve the king in this capacity if your father finds it dishonorable?”
He looked at her then. “Because I do not find it dishonorable,” he said. “I am very good at what I do. I am shaping a kingdom, Lysabel. What I do matters to the king and I am proud to serve him.”
“Even as an assassin?”