“Aye, we did. His son turned two years old on the very day of Leeton’s death,” Max replied. “The earl sent a long missive back, informing us of Richard’s progress. A smart little lad, he says. I suppose it was not a tragedy from the boy’s point of view, considering he never knew Leeton.”
Christopher sighed, rising on his long legs. “I suppose. But I do not understand one thing, other than the wedding ring and the destrier, why did you think Leeton was me? We look nothing alike. Surely you could have seen….”
Anthony shook his head. “The body was rotted so badly that we could not tell any facial features, except for the blond hair. You both have blond hair.”
Christopher nodded in instant understanding. “Naturally, you assumed it was me. I understand a great deal now.”
He wandered over to the window overlooking the bailey and his men watched him closely, still finding it very difficult to believe he was returned. Half of them expected to blink their eyes and he would be gone, but several minutes in his presence convinced them that he was no apparition. This was the baron, the powerful Defender, and then joy began to override their disbelief.
“Surely we must send missives to King Richard, and David,” Anthony said after several moments. “They must know you are alive. And we shall send a missive to Marc….”
He suddenly looked to Edward, who shook his head darkly. It occurred to all of the knights at the same time that Christopher’s’ wife had gone with Marcus.
Christopher turned around and eyed his men with the sudden silence. Then his eyes fell on Edward. “I ride for Somerhill come the morrow,” he said quietly. “I go to retrieve my wife.”
Edward hung his head. “ ’Tis wrong, I tell you. You shall only upset her further.”
Christopher bit off a harsh retort, instead, turning back to the bailey again. “I have returned from the dead, Edward. That fact alone will upset her; it doesn’t matter how it is presented,” he said, and suddenly turned to Anthony and Jeffrey. “How many men do I carry now?”
“Eight hundred, sire,” Jeffrey replied.
“Mount all but one hundred of them,” Christopher ordered swiftly, the excitement of the march filling him. He was in command once again. “And, indeed, send word to Richard. Tell him I am riding for Windsor and that I will be taking two thousand crown troops with me to Somerhill. Then send word to my brother; tell him of my plans, but do not ask him to join me. I simply wish for David to know I am alive.”
Jeffrey and Anthony took Nicholas with them as they went about carrying out their orders. Christopher focused on Max and Sean.
“I want the men carrying crossbows,” he said, “and I want the border post reinforced with ten men. I want no Welsh surprises while Lioncross is running with a skeleton guard.”
Guy was the only knight left in the room without duties. He faced Christopher expectantly. “You will carry the missive to Richard. You will not wait for a reply and you will join my army as quickly as possible.”
Guy saluted sharply and spun on his heel, quitting the room in a jangle of armor. When all were gone, Christopher turned to Edward and, satisfied, drained his cup.
“Ah, I see the mighty Lion’s Claw has indeed returned,” Edward said with a faint smirk. “But, in faith, you look a bit pale and underfed. How do you feel?”
“Pale and underfed,” Christopher agreed. “But that will take care of itself. My concern right now is to return my wife home.”
Edward nodded in resignation; he knew there was nothing more he could say. “I am riding with you,” he said flatly. “Leave Kessler in charge of Lioncross.”
Christopher eyed him with an amused smile. Edward was becoming quite adept at giving orders, even to him. “Aye, my lord.”
*
Gowen had nearly passed out from the sight of Christopher, turning a sickly green until Christopher gave him a sharp slap on the cheek to bring him about. Thrilled and stunned, he went to inform his wife and prayed the shock wouldn’t turn her milk sour. Little Michael was having a difficult enough time feeding and Griselda was worried for the infant.
Deborah shrieked and cried with disbelief, crying even harder when Christopher entered her bedchamber and took her in his arms. Deborah sobbed over and over how mad Dustin had become, how consumed with grief she had been, and strongly urged him to go and get his wife. Christopher swore that he would, but not before he held his new nephew a good, long time, remembering his sweet little Christin with great longing.
News of Christopher’s return spread through Lioncross and the village like a raging fire and before the hour was out peasants were turning up at the gates, clamoring to catch a glimpse of their lord. Christopher was touched, but he was more concerned with preparing for his journey.
Trouble was, he was feeling distinctly weakened from his ride home and he still wasn’t up to full strength. He knew the ride to Windsor and then north would be a rough one, and to take on Marcus immediately in battle frankly worried him. He had always been able to outfight Marcus, but in his weakened condition, he wasn’t sure if he would be successful. He actually began to think that Marcus might have a chance to beat him but he quickly shoved that thought from his mind. He was the Defender. He was unbeatable.
“What’s wrong, Chris?” Edward was standing at the door to his bedchamber, gazing at him with concern.
Christopher realized he was hunched over, leaning on a chair for support. Quickly, he stood up. “Nothing at all,” he said. “Are the men preparing?”
“As you ordered, sire.” Edward came into the room. “Look, Chris, we both know you have seen better days. You are still recovering from that wound, I’d say. Mayhap your age is finally catching up with you.”
“I am only thirty-six,” Christopher replied. “I am not that damn old.”
“Aye, you are, and your body isn’t healing as well as it has in the past,” Edward said. “Just look at you; you are thinner than I have ever seen you and you lack the vigor of the Christopher I know. Mayhap you should wait before you try and tackle Marcus.”
“Nay,” Christopher snapped. “I am fine, Edward, so leave me alone. We ride tomorrow.”
Edward shook his head. “You cannot fight Marcus like this. He will murder you.”
Christopher flared, clenching his fists. “What would you suggest, then? Dustin is my wife, Edward, and the thought of her was the only thing that kept me alive. I must have her, I will have her, and if tearing down Somerhill is the only way to get her back, then so be it.”
Edward saw this situation for much more than it was. Christopher wasn’t at all well, yet he still intended to charge north to take back what was rightfully his. But it was more than that; he loved Dustin so fiercely that he was willing to risk his life to get her back. His heart ached for his friend.
“Why don’t you simply send a missive to Marcus and ask him to bring her back?” Edward said. “With you alive, his marriage to her is void. He has no claim on her.”
“Oh, Edward,” Christopher waved him off in irritation. “You said yourself how determined he was to keep her. He will not bring her back.”
“If Richard told him to, he might,” Edward said hopefully. “Richard would deny you nothing.”
Christopher shook his head and stripped off his tunic, giving Edward another view of the scar and his body. Not so much sheer mass anymore, but leaner and more defined. Aye, he was thinner, but he certainly did not lack for muscle. In fact, he looked better than Edward had ever remembered.
“If I cannot fight for what is mine, I certainly will not have anyone else do it for me,” he replied, grunting as he stretched out his torso muscles. “I appreciate your advice, Edward, but my mind is set. I go for Dustin tomorrow.”
Edward shrugged in defeat and quit the room, moving swiftly down the corridor and descending to the first floor. It would seem that he had a couple of missives of his own to send this night.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
David’s handsome face was white as he stood by the
ornate glass window, looking over the inner courtyard of Canterbury Castle. Beside him, Philip de Lohr sat motionless.
“He’s alive,” Philip whispered in disbelief.
David was overwhelmed with the contents of the missive, so much so that he did not trust himself to speak immediately after reading it. But now, having had the chance to mull it over in his frazzled mind, he would speak.
“Dustin is with Marcus,” he murmured. “And I let her go. After he kills Marcus, he is going to come and kill me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Philip snapped softly. “You were obeying a direct order from Richard. He ordered you away, and you had to go. If Chris is going to kill anyone, let it be our king. He gave Marcus his blessing.
David turned away from the window, his face sunburned from an entire afternoon of practicing in the late spring sun. The past three days had been the most cataclysmic of his life, getting married and learning that his late brother was not at all dead. It was almost more than he could take.
“How is it that he was mistaken for dead?” David wondered aloud. “I don’t understand how Anthony could have made such a mistake. Even Burwell declared him dead. I don’t understand any of this.”
Philip picked up the missive from Edward; it had come alongside the message from Christopher. “ ’Twould do you well to ride for the north and prevent your brother from tearing Marcus apart. Edward seems to think it will be a full scale war.”
“Edward likes to overreact,” David said flatly. “But he is right in assuming I would want to know of my brother’s plans. If anyone can stop him, I can.”
“He rides with Richard by his side, and you cannot stop our king,” Philip said. “According to Edward, Christopher is riding to Windsor to seek reinforcements and then to Somerhill to retrieve Lady Dustin, who by now is probably Lady Burton.”
David eyed Philip for a moment before turning away. “This is all madness. Jesus, if Christopher had just killed Marcus the first time he made a move on Dustin, none of this would be happening. Now the whole goddamn country is going to fall apart because my brother and his former best friend cannot keep their hands off the same woman.”
“What are you going to do?” Philip asked softly.
David thought a moment. “Take a couple of hundred men with me and ride for Somerhill, I suppose, but I do not know what good it will do. Lord Hampton may want to go, even though he considers himself retired after turning his troops over to me.” He glanced at Philip. “What about you? You have a hundred men lodged here in Canterbury. Will you go with me?”
“You forget, I brought Edward here for the wedding, and I shall not allow my twelve-year-old son to ride into battle,” Philip said. “Nay, when I leave, it will be to return to Lohrham Forest. I shall let you deal with Christopher; I never could. The only man who could remotely handle him was Richard.”
“Christopher respects you, Uncle,” David said. “He always listened when you spoke.”
Philip snorted. “He listened to me and then did exactly as he pleased anyway. Nay, David, whatever happens is between Christopher and Marcus. Richard is likely to be torn in two if he intervenes.”
There was a soft rap on the solar door and the Lady Emilie de Lohr stuck her head in, smiling tenderly at her new husband.
“Mother is serving refreshments in the smaller hall. I promised I’d tell you.”
David smiled back at his new wife, truly fond of the woman to the point of falling in love with her. And why not? She was a soft, gentle beauty and a tremendous flirt. He liked that.
“You did, my sweet,” David replied. “Tell Mother we shall be there in a moment.”
Emilie nodded, then cocked her head quizzically at her husband. “Is something wrong? You do not look well.”
David snickered ironically. “No, sweet, nothing is wrong. We shall be along.”
Emilie took the hint like a good wife and closed the door behind her. David glanced at Philip. “Now, if that were Dustin, she’d be in here beating me to a pulp until I let her read the missive. I was terrified to take a wife because I was afraid they were all like her.”
Philip laughed. “And this is the woman a country is tearing itself apart over? Most confusing.”
David was jesting, of course, trying to alleviate some of the tension. As he turned to his uncle again, the door to the solar flew open and a tall, gangly blond youth appeared.
“Father!” he exclaimed. “The mare is foaling. Lord Hampton promised I could have the foal.”
“So he did,” Philip rose, eyeing his son critically. “Eddie, are you old enough to see an actual birth?”
Edward de Lohr scowled at his father. “I have seen worse. Come quickly. David, you come, too.”
David waved him off, watching his uncle and cousin quit the room.
When they were gone, he sighed heavily and sank into the nearest chair. He could scarcely believe that Christopher was alive, but all the more thankful that the rumors of his death had been untrue. He could only imagine the turmoil his brother was going through, knowing his wife was with another man. There were so many unanswered questions that David was wildly confused.
He knew he had to go north, if nothing more than to show support for his brother. He would apologize to Christopher for the things he had said about Dustin and prayed his brother would forgive him. He could only hope that with all of his other troubles, Christopher would be willing to put theirs aside. Dustin had forgiven him and he hoped his brother was in the same spirit.
Emilie was waiting for him in the hall. He saw her sweet, rounded face and took her into his arms. She blushed as he kissed her, feeling flushed and warm.
“Ah, let me guess,” David said seductively. “You cannot wait for me to bed you again.”
“David,” Emilie gasped in mock outrage. “Do not say such things. My sisters are liable to hear and….”
He frowned. “They hear everything, Emilie, no matter if it is whispered or shouted. Nathalie and Elise have ears all over this damn place. They are probably around the corner right now, giggling their heads off.”
Emilie smiled at the mirth of it. “They are only children, for God’s sake. Don’t get so angry.”
“Children? Ha! You mean the Devil’s own offspring,” he snorted. “At fourteen and sixteen years of age, I would hardly call them children.”
Emilie kissed him softly, making him forget all about her annoying sisters. “No wonder your father was so glad when I came along,” he purred against her cheek. “He has had his fill of women.”
David rolled his eyes as he rubbed his cheek against hers. “The poor man is outnumbered.”
“You have evened out the odds somewhat.”
“Not enough.”
Emilie giggled, letting him hold her and kiss her for a few moments. “What did the missives from Lioncross say?” she asked casually.
He pulled back and cocked an eyebrow. “You little minx, using affection to gain information.”
“I am not,” she replied indignantly. “I simply wanted to know if it said something about Dustin and Christin.”
He looked at her a moment before releasing her from his embrace and taking her hand. “Let’s go find your father, then. I think he would like to hear this, too.”
*
Richard took the news of Christopher’s reappearance with great shock and relief. Such things as a mistaken death were possible, he only knew too well, and he had a mass said immediately in thanks. Two missives had arrived from Lioncross Abbey, one from Christopher and one from Edward de Wolfe.
Christopher’s missive gave a brief explanation and outlined his request and future plans, and Edward’s was far more concerned with Christopher’s march on Somerhill. The man was extremely concerned that Christopher and Marcus were going to stage an all-out battle for Lady Dustin, and Edward was furthermore concerned with the fact that Christopher had no intention of sending word to Marcus of his impending visit.
Richard sighed after he read the missives;
the situation was to take a turn for the worse, he could see, and he rapidly made a few decisions. He would grant Christopher his request for troops, yet he himself would ride with the Defender to Somerhill in hopes of preventing a bloodbath. He could, of course, deny Christopher’s request, but with everything the man had done for him, he could not refuse him in good conscience. Secondly, he personally would send word of their plans to Marcus Burton so the man would be somewhat prepared for their arrival. If Christopher was to be angry about the leak of information, then let him be angry with the king. Richard felt it was only right to let Marcus in on what was going on.
The king was torn between his two greatest warriors; who to support, who to defend, and most importantly, what to do about Lady Dustin. He could hardly believe these two seasoned soldiers were fighting over the same woman, like two dogs over a bone. It was ridiculous at best, but nonetheless very grave. Both of them loved her, and matters of the heart were always the most serious. But she was, after all, Christopher’s wife first and he himself had ordered them wed. Marcus Burton had no legal claim over her now that Christopher was returned and any marriage was dissolved, but Richard knew the solution would not be as easy as that.
He dreaded the ride north, of what would take place. And he was very, very sorry for he knew that he would lose at least one of the two to death’s vile clutches before all was said and done.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
The army was sighted at dawn.
Nearly three thousand troops descended on Somerhill under the summer sunrise, looking like an army of ants in the distance. Like a black tide of men and horses, they approached the keep in a steady rhythm, scrutinized by the troops atop the massive wall of the castle.
Marcus Burton watched them closer than anyone, knowing exactly who they were, yet his heart still sank when he saw Richard’s and Christopher’s banner flying side by side. He could not fight the king; he had contemplated holding out, but he knew that would be disastrous. He had no choice but to open his gates to Richard or face the consequences, and he was greatly troubled.
The de Lohr Dynasty Page 89
