A Dishonorable Knight

by Michelle Morrison

  "I can only suppose they are mistaken in identifying me as that man."

  "Gareth is of a common height and coloring for a Welshman, Your Majesty," interjected Sir Jasper. "It could easily happen."

  "Were there only one man who had spotted him there, We might be inclined to believe this claim. But there were four! Four men who saw you in the intimate company of traitors!"

  Gareth felt his stomach clench. Before he could speak, Sir Jasper spoke up again.

  "Your Majesty, I beg you to consider the source of this story. Four men, yes, but four men who have not given you loyal service. Four men who only just arrived at Nottingham today, who may, in fact be spies themselves! Surely Sir Gareth's previous service must stand him in your favor now."

  "Sir Jasper, your protestations of what We must or must not think do not endear you to Us. They do, in fact, lead Us to wonder if you are in league with this man." Sir Jasper opened his mouth to speak, but Richard stopped him. "We will hear no more. Guards! Take this man into custody. He is no longer one of Our knights." Turning, Richard walked around the table and resumed his seat. Gareth felt as if there were no blood, no strength in his limbs for he could not move them. Could not even feel them. When the two guards grabbed him by his arms--two guards he had helped train--he was unaware of their painful grasp or that Richard was stripping him of his knight's chain. Though all else was a blur, Gareth saw the pained look on Sir Jasper's face as he left the hall.

  The two guards said not a word to him as they led him out of the main hall to a stone tower where the prisoners were normally kept. One of the guards addressed a captain who was just coming out. "Sir, His Majesty has another traitor for the tower."

  "Well you'll have to take him to the cellars below. We've no room for the prisoners we've got. I sent a man to the cellars just this morning with two prisoners. He will still be on duty and can take this one from you." The captain sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I wish we could get these men tried and either hung or released. We've too many men spending time on guard duty instead of preparing for war. The king must be--" The man stopped as if suddenly realizing who he was talking to. "Go about your business now," he said brusquely.

  Gareth's guards dragged him back to the main keep and hauled him down a flight of stairs that had not seen much maintenance. The stones were cracked and slippery with dampness. One of the guards cracked his head on a low hanging beam and cursed abruptly. When they reached the dank-smelling cellars, a feeble torch illuminated the guard's post where a beefy man dozed on a three-legged stool, his head leaning against the damp stone walls. His snores were interrupted when one of the guards kicked the man's stool.

  "Wake up you lazy oaf! We've another prisoner. Stand up and open one of the cells."

  The groggy man saluted and fumbled with the keys at his waist. "Here," he said, gesturing to the wooden door in front of him. "This one was emptied this morning when the king ordered the man's execution." He opened the door and stood aside while the other two guards pushed Gareth into the cramped cell. Gareth stumbled in the darkness, coming to land on a musty smelling pallet of straw. The door slammed shut behind him and he heard the bolt slide home.

  The two king's guards berated the man for his appearance and demeanor before leaving. Gareth heard the beefy guard grumble about their treatment as he settled himself back on his stool. Within seconds, the snoring had resumed.

  Gareth wedged himself in the corner of the small room, sitting on the old straw pallet. He forced himself to think of the one thing that would not drive him insane with worry over his imminent execution. He forced his mind to conjure Elena and the way she had rushed back to kiss him. He allowed no other thoughts to enter his mind but those of their passion-filled trip from Wales, the all too short nights they had spent in that tiny room in Samuel's house. He refused to think of the bugs he was now bedding down with and the way the axe would look as it whistled through the air on a collision course with his neck. He thought only of Elena.

  Chapter 28

  Elena awoke the next morning wondering if she could convince the Countess of Salisbury to ride through the bailey again so that she might catch another glimpse of Gareth. She had just finished dressing and was waiting for the young servant girl to finish with her hair when there was a knock at the door.

  "Enter," Elena called, but Catherine, who was having her hair washed, called out angrily, "No, do not enter! Elena, if you do not mind, I am not prepared to receive anyone."

  "For heaven's sake, Catherine, it's not likely to be the pope calling for confession. What matter if a page sees you with wet hair?"

  "It is not seemly and I, if no one else in this room, am well aware of the importance of behaving in a seemly manner at all times."

  Elena almost smiled at the crudely delivered insult. Catherine was referring to her weeks spent with Gareth. More than once had Catherine implied that Elena could not be a true lady after allowing herself to spend nights on the road alone with no chaperon. Elena had managed to grit her teeth and say nothing, knowing that was the only way to deal with someone like Catherine, but now she had remained silent long enough.

  "You only behave in a 'seemly' manner when there is someone of import to impress. Were you to behave all the time, you would not be so catty to the very women who have made you who you are in this court today."

  "Don't you dare try to tell me you are the reason His Majesty treasures me so!"

  "Ladies, please!" interrupted Margaret. When Elena and Catherine continued to bicker, she yelled a little more loudly. "Will the two of you shut your mouths for one moment? I will answer the damned door myself."

  Despite her anger at Catherine, Elena laughed. "Are you sure they allow language like that in the convent, Margaret?"

  "They would if they had to deal with you two," Margaret said over her shoulder as she reached the door. She stepped outside and in a moment returned, looking apprehensively at Elena. "The summons is for you, Elena. The Earl of Brackley has returned and King Richard calls you to his meeting chambers."

  "The earl is here?" Catherine said, sitting up, heedless of the water dripping from her hair.

  "Yes, he is here," Margaret said, answering Catherine, but staring at Elena. "But the summons was for Elena and Elena alone."

  "That's ridiculous. I am sure the earl will wish to see me as well." Catherine grabbed the linen towel from the serving maid and began vigorously drying her hair.

  "Would you like me to call the messenger back? He was most specific in relaying the king's words. The earl is, after all, betrothed to Elena, not you."

  Catherine glared at the other women, but Elena ignored her. "Did he say why?"

  Margaret smiled sympathetically and shook her head no. Elena suspected Margaret alone knew of her secret dread of marrying the repugnant man and for the first time, Elena felt camaraderie with the other woman she had never before experienced. Returning the smile, Elena stood and left the room, forbidding her knees to shake as she walked down the stairs and into the large map strewn room in which Richard was sitting with the earl.

  Richard was the first to notice her presence. "Ah, Edmund, here is Elena now." When she was but a few feet from the men, Elena curtsied gracefully and slowly rose. From beneath her lashes, she watched Brackley, dismayed to find him even crueler looking than she had remembered.

  For several seconds, not a word was spoken. Elena could not imagine why the king had called her forth if not to tell her of her impending marriage. When the king finally spoke, however, it was not to her.

  "Look on her well, Edmund and decide if you will have her though she be a fallen woman."

  Elena looked up, stunned. "Your Majesty?"

  "Do not play the naive chit with Us, lady. Lady Catherine has kept Us well enough informed and she is convinced, as are We, that you did not hold yourself as befits a member of Our entourage. Now it is up to the earl to decide if he will have you anyway. We have offered him wife of any of my other ladies, ladies whose virtue We can be certain
of. Edmund?"

  The earl leaned back in his seat, surveying Elena from head to toe. "I care not if she is pure. In fact, I rather think I will prefer bedding a new wife who is not a virgin. Perhaps your experiences," he put an ugly emphasis on the word 'experiences,' "in Wales will make my wedding night all the more enjoyable." Turning to the king, Brackley said, "I will still have her if her dowry is the same."

  "Aye, I've padded it well enough. As for you, lady, be very thankful that the earl is as understanding and tolerant as he is. Were he not, and your indiscretions had cost Us his valuable friendship, We would not like to think of what might have happened to you."

  Elena's breaths were short and shallow. She had to fight the overwhelming urge to flee. Simply turn and flee and stop only long enough to grab Gareth and beg him take her from this place. Oh why had she returned? Gareth had been right, Richard cared nothing for her, only how she could serve him! He cared for nothing except holding onto his crown.

  Richard had turned back to Edmund and was discussing the transfer of her dowry. He had completely dismissed her from his thoughts, so it seemed, and he would never think of her again, now that she had served her purpose.

  "Your Majesty," she said with a quavering voice. Taking herself firmly in hand she said louder and steadfastly, "Your Majesty!"

  Richard looked at her sharply. "You should be attending your trousseau, lady. What is it?"

  "I cannot marry the earl."

  Richard's complexion became mottled with anger as he said, "You most certainly can. It has already been arranged. You will be wed come Sunday."

  "No, Your Majesty, I cannot marry him."

  "And why not?" the king bit out, digging his nails into the wooden arms of his chair.

  She straightened her shoulders. "Because I love another and may carry his child." Elena braced herself to be physically beaten, or at least screamed at. Instead, the king laughed coldly.

  "In love with who? The puny Welshman whom I've stripped of rank and thrown in the dungeon where he awaits his well-deserved execution for being a traitor? Tudor landed but a week ago and I vow your ‘love’ will not live to hear word of the usurper's journey." Elena felt as if she were about to faint. "'Twould be best if you forgot him. You will wed the gracious earl and We will hear no more argument from you. Furthermore, if you prove to be a reluctant wife in any aspect, We will charge you with treason and condemn you to death."

  Elena closed her eyes and summoned every ounce of strength she had not to cry out at Gareth's imprisonment. Steeling herself to sound as innocent as possible, she said, "Nay, my king, I know nothing of this Welshman of whom you speak except that he escorted me to and from his father's keep in Wales. I am in love with the man whom my parents hoped I might marry since I was a child. When last he visited your court, I was overcome with such love that I forgot myself and gave him my virtue. Even now, his babe grows in my womb. Please, Your Majesty," Elena fell to her knees, hating Richard, but knowing she must play her part well if she were to escape with her life. "I beg you to release me from my engagement to this good earl who deserves a more suitable wife."

  "Pregnant or no, you'll do as I say."

  "Aye, but I won't marry her," Brackley broke in. "I'll not see my possessions passed on to another man's bastard."

  Desperation evident in his voice, Richard said, "Then, good sir, take your pick of another of my ladies. There are many more beautiful than this fallen angel."

  Brackley stood and said in a voice that was barely polite. "I am not certain I should do so--any one of them may already have given birth to a passel of brats. I will wait. In the meantime, I will return to my estate. I have been absent long enough on errands for Your Majesty and I am certain my affairs are lacking because of it." The earl left the room and in a flurry of motion, the king stood and grabbed Elena by the shoulders, pulling her upright and shaking her until her head snapped back.

  "If you have cost me a battle for want of that man's soldiers, I will slit your smooth throat myself!"

  "Your Majesty, I beg you!"

  Richard pushed her from him and threw himself back in his chair. With an act of will that was physically evident, he regained control of his anger. "Pray forgive me, lady. The worries of the crown may push a man to actions he would not otherwise commit. I am even still learning to control my anger when people stand forcibly in my way."

  Elena panted raggedly, praying that she would not hear her death sentence come from the king's lips.

  After several seconds of silence, Richard turned back to her. "Do not look like a frightened rabbit, caught in a hunter's snare. You will live to see another dawn, though not in my presence."

  "What does Your Majesty mean?" Elena whispered.

  "You will pack your trunks and be ready to leave at first light. I am returning you to your parents. There you may marry your childhood sweetheart and bear him a passel of children. Frankly I care not what you do, as long as you are not in my sight. Thank your father and mother for your goodly service these past years and send them my wishes for a prosperous harvest time." When Elena remained where she was, shocked, he said, "Leave now, lady, lest I lose my temper again."

  Curtsying quickly, she turned and fled. She ran through the main hall and out the large doors. She ran, heedless of those she brushed past or knocked over, and did not stop until she reached the small arbor where she flung herself on a wooden bench, tears streaming from her eyes. Oh what had she done? Surely, she was relieved that she would not have to marry the repugnant earl. In fact, she was even glad to have been relieved as a lady-in-waiting. But what of Gareth? What was to become of him? Her hands shaking, her breath coming in frantic gasps, Elena realized that she was becoming hysterical. Digging her nails into her palms until the pain calmed her, she stood and began pacing beneath the shady trees.

  Alright, she thought. I am safe. I will not see the king again, and as soon as Catherine and Margaret leave the room, I will pack my trunk. Now, what of Gareth? Elena's stomach clenched with worry at the thought of him in a dank dungeon, his spurs hacked off, facing death for his moment of indecision as to which man he would support as king. Didn't the fact that Gareth was here, training with Richard's other soldiers prove his loyalty to his king? Had Richard lost all sense?

  Gareth must be freed. That was all there was to it. She would free him and together they would escape. They could go to France for a few years, perhaps until Richard died, and then they could return to Eyri Keep. The fact that she was no longer a lady-in-waiting to the king, that she was no one of any great importance suddenly dawned on her, and rather than feeling dismayed, she found tremendous relief in the fact. No more would she have to worry about acting just so, or pretending to like people she detested. Now if that foul Brackley came her way, she could turn her nose up and walk away. The new sense of freedom further resolved her to helping Gareth escape. Together they would begin a new life.

  Brushing the now-forgotten tears from her cheeks, Elena began to plan their escape. They would need money, but she had plenty of jewels, surely enough to buy safe passage to France. Since Richard didn't want to see her again before she left, once outside the castle gates it should surely be no problem for her to change her destination. Once she freed Gareth from the dungeon, he could meet up with her down the road and they would head for France. Once there...well, once there Gareth would have to make some plans.

  Accustomed to getting her way, Elena saw no reason why things wouldn't go according to her plans. Smoothing her hair and shaking out her skirts, Elena headed back to the main building. Once inside, she raced up a smaller back staircase and entered the room she shared with Catherine and Margaret. She prayed that she would not have to face Catherine again. Though she had found herself relieved to no longer be a lady-in-waiting, she did not think she could stand to see Catherine smirk and preen over the news. Nay, if she had to endure one spiteful statement from the brat, Elena felt sure she would not be able to stop herself from ripping every hair from Catherine's hea
d.

  Opening the door to their chamber as quietly as possible, Elena was relieved to discover it empty. She quickly rushed inside and threw open her trunk. Packing as carefully as she could, she crammed her best gowns and half of her jewels into the trunk. The rest of the jewelry, she placed in an embroidered pouch. She fastened the pouch under her full skirts and moved about to see if it was evident. Satisfied that it was well hidden, she fetched her cloaks from the hooks on which they were hung. One of these she would have to sneak down to Gareth to help disguise him when he made his escape. Elena looked at both of them, trying to decide which would be the least conspicuous for Gareth to wear. With a sigh, she realized that neither of them would work. One was a rich red velvet with ermine lining and the other, though a simple dark blue wool, had gold couching covering every inch of it. With a sigh, Elena looked up. A thin grey cloak with a full hood hung on the farthest hook on the wall. It was the cloak Margaret wore when she visited the convent she soon hoped to join. It would be perfect, but--

  The door creaked open and she started. When Margaret entered, she breathed a sigh of relief that it was not Catherine and took it as a sign that she should ask for the cloak. Before she had a chance to voice the question, Margaret spoke.

  "Is it true you are to leave immediately? Tonight?"

  "Is it tonight now? When last Richard spoke, it was merely before first light," she said dispassionately.

  "It is true then?

  "Aye, it's true."

  "But why? You have long been one of Richard's favorites." Margaret walked closer and surveyed Elena's packed trunk.

  "I have not been a favorite since I was in the company of a man not my husband or father for weeks. A man Richard now thinks is a traitor."

  "That is ridiculous. It was all well explained! Surely he would not send you away on a mere suspicion!"