"Why should she?"
Cynan's question made Gareth stop and look at his friend, forcing people to walk around them. "Why should she? Why shouldn't she?"
Cynan looked uncomfortable. "Look, Gareth, I like Elena as much as you and Bryant do. But our lives are on the line here. Elena still considers herself one of Richard's ladies-in-waiting. She hasn't asked to remain here. We can only assume that she still considers Richard the true king of England."
"But she nearly died trying to warn us of the English soldiers!" Gareth protested.
"I know, I know."
"Then why are you doubting that she will continue to protect us?"
Cynan ran his hand through his hair and then let it drop by his side. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Gareth, Enid is pregnant."
Gareth grinned broadly and said, "Cynan, that's wonderful! Congratulations!"
"No, listen to me. I must be around to be a father to this child. I can't be running off to each new adventure like I've been doing since we were kids. Enid has put up with it these three years we've been married, but I won't put her through it anymore--not with a babe on the way. This next battle I will fight because I have to and Enid agrees with me. But I will be more cautious than I ever have been. And if wondering about Elena's true loyalties makes me suspicious, then I'm sorry."
Gareth stared in open-mouthed surprise at Cynan. Never had he heard his usually buoyant friend so serious or so earnest. And though he thought Cynan was wrong about Elena, he could understand the motive behind his worry.
"I think Da said I was not to leave for three days. I promise you I will discover whether Elena's rose be white or red and we will deal with her accordingly, alright?"
Cynan nodded. "Thank you."
Trying to lighten the mood, Gareth said, "Now let's find those two--I could eat an entire flock!"
***
Elena looked around furtively and when she saw no one was looking, she licked her fingers, leaned over, and wiped her mouth on the hem of her dress. Turning to Bryant, she took the second skewer of meat and went to work on it.
"Look, my lady," Bryant said. "The game is going to start." Elena looked up from her meal to see a young brawny man step up onto one of the stumps, a stout rope in hand.
"Who's foolish enough to think they can pull me off the Viking stump?" he called out.
The crowd, which had quickly gathered, looked around at each other. Within seconds, a wiry man with an unruly shock of black hair pushed his way through.
"You know your boasting always gets you in trouble, Aldred," the wiry man said.
"I doubt there's any trouble you could give me, Owain," the brawny man shot back with a laugh.
Owain bent to pick up the other end of the rope before climbing on the opposite stump. A third man stepped out of the crowd and appointed himself the marshal.
"Are you good men ready?" he asked.
Both men nodded, looks of anticipation on their faces. "Very well, then. On the count of three. One, two, three!"
Hand over hand, the opponents pulled the slack of the rope in quickly until it was taut between them. Then the tug of war began. Aldred pulled so hard his opponent was forced to give up some slack or be pulled off his stump. He gave up several feet of rope so quickly that Owain, still pulling, nearly fell off the back of the stump. The crowd shouted encouragement to both contestants as Owain struggled to maintain his balance and then laughed as he tottered and fell off.
"See?" Bryant whispered in Elena's ear. "That is strategy."
Elena nodded understandingly. She was intrigued by this simple game. Again she wondered if women ever played it, if they would play it this evening.
Aldred defeated two more opponents, one by pulling the rope clean out of his opponent's hands, the other by simply jerking the rope, and the man on the other end, forward.
"Now if he had given up some rope," Bryant explained. "He could have stayed on the stump longer. Some men just hate to give an inch, though."
Aldred flexed and bent his fingers while he waited for another challenger.
Finally, a man stepped out. Elena's eyes widened and she fervently hoped he would not notice her sitting on the edge of the crowd.
The tall blonde sailor grabbed up his end of the rope and leapt onto the stump. As soon as the count was called, he snatched up most of the slack and began giving short, sharp tugs to the rope. Within seconds, he toppled his brawny opponent and was calling for another.
Elena forgot to eat as she watched the muscles in his arms and back flex and release as he pulled man after man off his stump. Sweat made his thin shirt cling to his ribs and Elena could not tear her eyes away.
"There you are!" Gareth shouted. Elena jumped and dropped the stick of lamb in her lap. With a disgusted sigh, she quickly snatched up the stick and rubbed at the grease spot on her skirt. Wonderful, she thought. Each day away from court and courtly manners was taking its toll on her. Soon she would look and act like a common scullery maid. Before too long she'd have snarled hair and a toothless grin. Turning to glare at Gareth, she was further surprised by his exuberant grin and sparkling eyes. She could not remember seeing him so relaxed or happy before.
"You're certainly in high spirits this evening," she said.
"It's the market. Fairs, crowds of people, food, the atmosphere is contagious. I can't help but enjoy myself." Reaching down, he plucked the stick of meat right out of her hand and began devouring it. Although she was outraged, Elena couldn't bring herself to dress him down for his impertinence. She was still too fascinated at seeing him in such a good mood. It made his entire countenance change; the lines of worry disappeared and his infections grin made his face look boyish and innocent. The shock of hair which was constantly in his eyes now seemed appropriate, giving him a reckless air that was further enhanced by his next words.
"Ho ho! Viking stumps!" Looking down at Elena, he said, "Did I ever tell you I was an expert at this game?" Elena shook her head as Gareth bolted up to the recently vacated stump opposite the blond sailor. Surely for all his strength he could not defeat the much larger man. Her eyes darted back and forth from the tall, well-muscled man to Gareth, compact and sinewy. Although the sailor was even more appealing now that his face, neck and V of his chest were glistening with exertion, for some reason, Elena found herself watching Gareth. His knees bent, he was crouched down, his feet planted firmly on the stump, the ornery shock of hair temporarily pushed off his forehead. His eyes narrowed in concentration as the count was called and a wicked grin touched his lips.
The smile never left his face as he tugged on the rope. He was not strong enough to gain rope from his adversary, but neither did he give any up. After several minutes of gaining not an inch, the sailor grew impatient and gave a tremendous heave. At the same time, Gareth let his excess rope slide easily through his hands. The sailor tottered on the edge of the stump before losing his balance and hopping to the ground. The crowd went wild, hooting and clapping and Elena joined in. She felt a strange sense of pride that Gareth had won, but did not stop to wonder why. The crowd grew even rowdier as man after man stepped forward to challenge Gareth only to be forced off his stump. Gareth grew sweaty and began breathing hard, but the devilish grin never left his mouth. Finally, he straightened and tossed down the rope. The crowd roared and clapped as he executed a mock bow. Returning to his friends, he threw himself down on the bench.
"I would give my horse for a mug of ale," he said, wiping the sweat off his face with the sleeve of his shirt.
"Then consider Isrid mine," Cynan said. Elena turned and saw him approaching with two heavy pewter mugs in one hand and an enormous roasted goose leg in the other.
"You are a saint, Cynan," Gareth said, relieving his friend of one of the mugs.
"Flattery won't get you out of giving me your horse."
Gareth gestured to the stumps with his chin. "You pull me off an he's yours."
Cynan looked apprehensively at the Viking stumps. " It would be too cruel for
me to battle a winded man."
Gareth took a large swallow of ale and leaned close to Elena. "Cynan's never been able to best me on Viking stumps." Looking past her, he said, "Ho, Bryant! Be you ill?"
Elena turned to her forgotten dinner companion who was staring moodily out into the crowd. When Gareth called him, he glanced up and shrugged. "I was only marveling at some people's rudeness." Elena looked out into the crowd to see whom he was referring to, but she saw nothing unusual. Turning back to Gareth, she saw him exchange confused glances with Cynan.
Bryant suddenly stood and said, "I am retiring. Shall I walk you back to the house, Lady Elena?"
"So soon? It isn't even dark yet."
"No, but it will be in minutes."
Elena looked to Gareth who said, "Cynan and I are staying to see the sights. You can remain with us if you like." Elena turned back to Bryant in time to see his mouth tighten. Glancing at Elena, he gave her a weak smile and bent to kiss her hand. "Very well, my lady, I bid you good night." Elena nodded graciously and gave him one of her best smiles. Bryant was the only one who had ever shown respect to her rank. As he disappeared into the throng of people, Elena noticed two young children--a boy and a girl--playing on the Viking stumps.
"Gareth," she said, smoothing her voice to make it appear as if the question she was about to ask was completely ladylike and appropriate. "Do women ever play this game?"
"Do you jest?" Elena experienced a moment of mortification. "This is Wales. Women do as they please and that includes this game." His eyebrows raised. "Would you like to try?"
"Oh, no," Elena protested weakly.
"Come on, you'll enjoy it. You enjoy knocking people off their pedestals enough, you ought to be great at this!"
Elena was torn between being indignant and grabbing up the rope. Gareth seemed to sense how she felt because he leaned closer and touched her elbow.
"This is Wales, Elena. You can do whatever you want and not worry about what people will think."
Elena wavered a mere second. "I would like to try it."
Gareth grinned and pulled her up. "Well, come on then. Here Cynan," he said, handing over his mug. "Elena's going to see if she has any Viking blood in her."
"No, I'm going to test my balance. There are no Norse in my family."
Cynan laughed. "With as much raiding, looting and ra--er, uh, pillaging as they did, everyone has a little Viking blood!"
Elena's eyes widened at his reference, but Gareth quickly distracted her by pulling her towards one of the stumps and putting the rope end in her hand. He shooed off the children who were clambering on the stumps. Lifting her skirts, Elena climbed up on the nearest stump.
"Be there any lass who'd like to try her hand at the rope?" he called out.
Aldred, the first man Elena had watched was leaning against a nearby booth. "Are you so tired you can't best a man? You must now take on the women?" he yelled mockingly.
"More like he's found no worthy challenger amongst you men and he knows a woman will give him more fight!" said a sassy young woman of fifteen or sixteen as she climbed up on the opposite stump. The nearby crowd laughed at her remark and Aldred flushed, but laughed as well.
"No, no," Gareth jokingly admonished. "We've a newcomer who'd like to learn," he said as he handed the girl her end of the rope. "Are you ready, Elena?"
"I guess so."
"Crouch down. There you go. Now remember to use your arms, not your whole body. Are you ready?" he asked the girl who nodded and smiled encouragingly at Elena. "Very well. One, two, three, pull!"
Elena felt the rope being pulled out of her hands and when she grabbed it tightly, she found herself being pulled neatly off the stump. The crowd laughed good-naturedly, but Elena was embarrassed nonetheless.
"Don't worry," Gareth reassured. "That was only your first time. Here, try it again," he said as he retrieved her end of the rope. "Do you mind?" he asked the girl.
"Of course not." Calling to Elena, she said, "Don't think about your rope, miss. Just think on sticking like pitch to the log."
Elena nodded and stepped back up on her stump. Crouching down, she stared at a point on the ground and thought, Stay on the stump! Stay on the stump! When Gareth called out the count, she grabbed up as much of the excess rope as she could and began tugging, all the while staring at the point on the ground and concentrating on keeping her feet on the stump. Within a minute, she had pulled down her opponent and the gained the cheers of the crowd. The girl skipped over to Elena and said, "Well met! You're a natural!"
"Thank you," Elena said awkwardly as she started to step down.
"Not so fast," said Gareth. "You've got another challenger." Surprised, Elena looked up to see a young woman a year or two older than herself climb on the stump.
She easily defeated her second and third challengers, but by then her arms, unaccustomed to such vigorous play, were shaking with exhaustion and the forth opponent bested her.
"Excellent job!" said Gareth as she sat down. He handed her his mug of ale and when she had caught her breath, she took several ladylike sips of the sharp-tasting but cold brew. "Well, what do you think of our game?" he asked when she handed his mug back to him.
"I think the girls back at court would love it!" Seeing Cynan look sharply at Gareth and misunderstanding its meaning, she hastened to explain. "We are not always proper and stuffy, you know. We play games and have fun, too. Why, even Lady Elizabeth plays tag with us."
"Of course," said Gareth, shaking his head at Cynan.
The trio sat in silence for several minutes just watching the crush of people who were milling about the square. The sun had set and torches were being lit at each merchant booth. Their flickering light gave everything a dreamlike quality. The smoke from the pitch torches mingled with the scent of food cooking, the smell of hard-earned sweat, and the salty tang of the nearby sea. Somewhere in one of the enclosed taverns, a lute and recorder played a lively tune to the accompanying beat of an Irish bohdrin.
Elena inhaled deeply and sighed with contentment. She felt utterly comfortable and happy. Happy? she thought with a start. What was there here to make her happy? There certainly were no grand feasts of state with adoring men to flatter and cajole her. She had none of her beautiful gowns or precious jewelry give to her by her mother. There were no waiting maids to brush out her long hair or help her bathe. In fact, Elena could not remember the last time she had really bathed. Splashing around in a stream could not replace a barrel full of hot water and scented soap. Why she should be happy at this odd moment was a mystery to her, but as Elena sat on the hard wooden bench with the narrow slats of the back pressing against her ribs and Gareth's arm lightly brushing her, she decided that she was truly happy at this moment. As a matter of fact, she didn't even remember the grease stain on her skirt.
Chapter 16
"Well, that does it for me," said Cynan with a yawn. "I am about to fall asleep on this miserable bench. I've had one too many nights of the late watch." Standing, he gave Elena a sleepy bow and said, "Don't let him keep you out all night." He turned and stumbled through the milling people.
"So much for my friend who never slept and was always up for a new adventure," Gareth said wryly.
Elena smiled and leaned forward. Gareth imagined she was weary herself and would like to retire, but he had promised Cynan that he would try to discover where her loyalties lay and they might not have much time alone again before they returned to England. While he racked his brain to think of a way to approach the subject, a breeze brought the fresh scent of the sea and he was seized with an inspiration. "Would you like to see the docks before we retire?"
Elena looked at him dubiously. "Are they safe?"
Gareth smiled. "Don't worry, they're not at all like those near London. Aberystwyth is still for the most part a large fishing village. The most excitement you're like to see is a late fisherman unloading his catch. Besides, what have you to fear? You are accompanied by Sir Gareth, knight of the realm. You think an
yone with evil intent dare approach us?"
Elena laughed and said teasingly, "Nay, not with your hair sticking up all over your head like an ogre's!"
Gareth's hand flew to his unruly hair, but he could feel nothing unusually messy. When he saw the teasing look in his companion's face, he joined her laughter. "Well, what do you say?"
"That sounds lovely."
Gareth was surprised by her polite answer. Although she had been astoundingly cooperative of late, her early rudeness and haughtiness had so influenced him that he was constantly surprised by any other attitude from her.
They stood and she followed him through the crowds of people. As soon as they reached the edge of the marketplace, the throng rapidly diminished until they were walking alone down moonlit streets, the faint rush of the sea audible.
"This seems bigger than a large fishing village," Elena said as they made their way toward the ocean. The further they walked from the marketplace, the louder the sound of the water grew.
"Well, in size, yes, it is large, but not in attitude. The folk here consider themselves all family of sorts and they're not very tolerant of people disturbing their home with mischief and mayhem." Gareth glanced sideways at Elena. She was nodding her head slightly.
They came around a bend in the street that opened onto a rocky beach and the weathered docks.
"I've never seen such a sight," Elena whispered, coming to a stop on the edge of the sand.
"I'd have thought you'd seen everything in Britain, traveling with King Richard."
"All I ever get to see traveling with Richard is the inside of musty hunting castles and the filthy streets of London."
"Likes to hunt, does he?" Gareth asked, struggling to direct the conversation towards the current politics as they walked along the beach.
"I think he just uses hunting as a way to make himself look strong and powerful in front of his nobles. You'd think his success at achieving the throne would have made him confident enough in his power, but he seems to be constantly trying to prove himself."
A Dishonorable Knight Page 18
