Rise of the Defender (111 page)

     Max and Anthony passed concerned glances.
“My lady, I swear that we are not,” Anthony tried not to sound as if he was
pleading with her. “I saw him myself. I swear we would not lie about this.”

     The quivering in her voice had taken over
her body. They could all see it in her face, in her movements. Somewhere in the
distance, thunder rolled across the sky as another storm moved in and Dustin,
her husband's wedding ring clasped between her fingers, lowered her arm slowly.
With a lethargic, baleful blink at Edward, she stumbled back and turned,
weaving unsteadily as she made her way back to the castle.  The moment she hit
the stairs, she collapsed in a heap.

     The knights came running. Edward picked her
up and carried her, weeping, the entire way up to her bedchamber.

***

     Dustin's days were filled with pain. Too
shocked to cry, her pain went beyond tears. In fact, her pain rendered her
unable to do anything but sit and stare out of the window as if expecting
Christopher to ride through the gates any minute. Her whole world was numb,
mindless, and in total denial.

     The wet nurse from the village had to be
re-employed because Dustin had stopped eating and Griselda knew she should not
nurse. In fact, Dustin had ceased to do anything even remotely human and began
to take on the cold, unfeeling characteristics of a stone wall.

     Everyone worried desperately for her, but
she wouldn't talk. Edward spent whole days with her trying to get her to open
up, but she wouldn’t even acknowledge him. He seriously feared for her mental
stability. Her feelings remained locked up inside her, building to the point
where there was nothing else to do but explode.

     When the tears did come, they came in
torrents. Days upon days upon days of hysterics, fainting deteriorated into
breaking things and destroying her surroundings. She destroyed every one of her
fine dresses and at one point cut her arms terribly when she broke a precious
porcelain vase her mother had given her and ground the razor-sharp chips into
her forearms.

     After that, Edward ordered someone to be
with her at all times and Dustin turned into a surly, snapping bitch who hated
the sight of anyone. The only person she would warm up to was Christin, and
even then, all she did was hold the baby and cry.

     It was a miserable time for all of the
occupants of Lioncross. Dustin was quite mad with grief, taking to wearing her
peasant clothes again and ignoring anyone who said a word to her. Her sorrow
and agony had turned her into a shell of a human being, neither feeling nor
caring what went on around her. Her days were spent with her daughter or her
garden; she had even let her rabbits go free because they reminded her of
Christopher. Nothing mattered to her at all anymore. Her world was pain.

     One night after dinner, Anthony was sitting
with her in the solar as she sat motionless by the hearth. Her gorgeous blond
hair was a rat’s nest of filth and she had dropped quite a bit a weight to the
point where she was almost skeletal. She did not look at all like the same
robust woman they had come to know and love.  It was a horrific sight.

     “How did he die, Anthony?” she asked.

     It was the first rational statement she had
made in weeks. Startled, Anthony looked up sharply from the sword he was
sharpening. Should he tell her? God, even he did not really know. He was
extremely careful in how he answered her.

     “Truthfully, I am not sure, my lady,” he
said. “We found him several days after his death and it was difficult to tell.”

     She absorbed this, still staring off into
the flames. “John killed him.”

     “My lady?” Anthony inquired politely.

     She turned to him, her eyes clear. “John
killed him,” she repeated. “It doesn't matter how he died, because John killed
him.”

     Anthony was careful in his reaction. “In a
sense, he did.”

     Dustin turned back to the flames.

     Later after Dustin had gone to bed, Edward
and Anthony were alone in the solar sipping fine French wine and Anthony
expressed his concern for Dustin.

     “What are we going to do with her?” he
asked Edward wearily. “I have never seen anyone grieve so hard or so long. She
knew Chris was a soldier when she married him; she should have prepared herself
for the eventuality of this moment.”

     “I doubt one can be truly prepared for the
death of a loved one,” Edward replied. “However, I am worried for her also. Her
mental health is unstable and she verges on total madness at times. Dustin is
so strong I never thought to see this happen. She even keeps a distance from
Deborah because she says the woman possesses 'his' eyes. I can only imagine she
sees Chris every time she looks at his sister, but Deborah is understandably
bewildered.”

     Anthony raised an eyebrow. “We all are.
Edward, I am worried about her.”

     Edward sat opposite his friend. “There is
nothing we can do” He shook his head sadly. “I wish David was here. He would be
able to get through to her.”

     “David?” Anthony repeated, dubious. “After
what happened, do you truly believe that?”

     Edward nodded firmly. “Aye, I do. David was
jealous of Christopher and Dustin. With Chris gone, there is nothing to be
jealous of anymore. They say that sometime grief is the most binding of
emotions, and I am sure David would be able to snap her out of this madness.”

     “Should we send word to him?” Anthony
asked.

     Edward gazed off into the darkness of the
room a moment, listening to the popping of the wood in the hearth. “If I know
David, and I do, he is probably already on his way here. We will give him a
week or so and if he still had not arrived, I shall send word to Canterbury.”

     Anthony nodded, downing the last of his
wine and wondering why life for all of them had ceased to exist the moment
Christopher's life slipped away. There seemed to be the past, and only the past;
there was no future at all.

***

     Richard was coming to visit to express his
sympathy to Lady de Lohr. And, not surprising, David was coming with him.
Edward and the other knights rejoiced with this news, hoping it would be enough
to bring Dustin out of her stupor. With each day that passed, she seemed to
grow worse and they worried for her very life now. She was so thin and pale,
nothing like the healthy, vigorous woman they knew her to be.

     The early March morning dawned amazingly
bright and cheery. It was not long after sunrise that the sentries sighted an
approaching army and the horn was sounded. Edward, knowing it to be Richard and
David, hustled to find Dustin. He had purposely kept the information from her,
afraid that if he told her she would fly into a fit. Now it was too late for
her to do anything, so he sought her out in the garden.

     She was hoeing like a farmer, dressed in
the peasant garb that she favored these days. Gone were the fine dresses, the
hose, the jewelry. She was back into her blouses and rough cloth skirts, the
black leather girdle trussed up as tight as it could go and even then, it was
too loose. Her long hair was dirty, hanging almost to her knees as she chopped
the ground furiously.

     “Dustin?” Edward had long since stopped
addressing her as “My lady” or “Lady Dustin.”

     She did not look up nor did she answer him,
as was usual these days. She continued to hoe. Edward continued.

     “Riders are coming, someone I think you
might like to see,” he said. Then, he paused. “David is coming.”

     She stopped hoeing. Her head came up and
she fixed him with her dull gray eyes. “David? Here?”

     He nodded and smiled timidly. “Are you
pleased?”

     She blinked at him, mulling over the
question. Was she pleased? Of course not. Nothing pleased her anymore. There
was no pleasure in life. She hated everyone and everything, hated them for
taking away her beloved. Her head went down and she started chopping at the
ground again.

     “Nay,” she muttered. “Tell him to go away.
He is not welcome here.”

     Edward's smile faded. “He brings the king
with him, Dustin. Richard is here as well.”

     She stopped again and her head shot up.
“Richard is here?” She raised the hoe and her eyes flashed like lightning in a
storm. “He is most certainly not welcome here. Tell him to go away or I shall
take this hoe to him.”

     “This is Christopher's home and Richard is
most welcome,” Edward replied steadily. “You, as dutiful Lady de Lohr, will
welcome the returned monarch. Go upstairs and change.”

     “Nay!” Dustin shouted. “I do not want him
here; I do not want either one of them here. I hate them both. Tell them to go
away, Edward, or I shall strike them down where they stand.”

     “Why?” Edward asked softly.

     “Why?” Dustin shrieked. “Because Chr…., my
husband, is dead because of Richard, and David is not welcome in our home. That
is why.”

     She could not even bring herself to say
Christopher's name and Edward could feel her pain. She hadn’t really spoken of
her feelings in all this time and now he was coming to understand something;
she blamed Richard, she blamed John; she blamed everyone. His heart was very
sad for her with so much agony and no way to ease it.

     “Nonetheless, they are here, and I will not
turn them out before they are fed and rested,” Edward said quietly. “If you
cannot behave yourself, I will lock you in the abbey until they have left.”

     She threw the hoe to the ground and glared
at him. “This is
my
home, Edward. Not yours.”

     He tried not to become angry with her.
“Like it or not, you have a great station in this life. You have certain duties
you may not shirk for any reason, Dustin. Christopher would take you over his
knee if he heard you right now and well you know it.” He took a step toward her
sternly. “Now go upstairs and bathe and put on a clean dress. I shall not have you
meeting our king looking like a madwoman.”

     Dustin's jaw worked as she slowly reached
down to pick up the hoe, he could see that her palms were blistered and
bloodied. “Go to hell, Edward.”

     She resumed her hoeing without another word
and he turned with frustration for the house.

     By the time he reached the bailey, the
gates were open and the army was filing in. However, he noticed immediately
that it was not the king or David. The colors were and black and gold, and he
realized with shock who had come.

     Marcus Burton rode into the bailey on a
pure white steed, looking taller and prouder and stronger than Edward had ever
seen him. The other knights turned out, eyeing him and his knights warily as
they came to a halt in the center of the bailey. Jeffrey, sensing the tension,
ordered the baron's army to remain outside the wall. Marcus and six knights
remained on horseback as the gate closed again.

     Edward was truly surprised. As he
approached Marcus, the man tore off his helmet and his cobalt-blue eyes locked
onto Edward's gold ones.

     “Edward,” he said in his smooth voice.
“'Tis good to see you again.”

     “And you, baron,” Edward replied steadily.
“To what do we owe the honor?”

     He knew why Marcus was here; they all knew.
It was a foolish question.

     “I heard of Chris' passing and I came to
express my sorrow to Lady de Lohr,” Marcus replied, somewhat subdued. “How is
she faring?”

     “Terribly,” Edward said honestly.  “She
borders on madness, Marcus. You have never seen anything like it.”

     Marcus let his gaze wander over Lioncross.
“May I see her, please?”

     “That may not be wise,” Edward said. “She
does not want to see anyone.”

     Marcus leveled his gaze on Edward. “I would
see her, Edward. I have ridden over a week to see her, and I will not leave
before I have had a chance to speak with her.”

     Edward knew where this had been leading all
along. From the look of determination on Marcus' face, he knew exactly what his
presence meant.  Pleasantries were gone and now they were at the meat of the
situation.

     “You have come here to take her,” he stated
softly. “Haven't you?”

     Marcus' jaw flexed and he lowered his gaze,
fumbling with his reins. “I have simply come to see Dustin.”

     Edward took two long strides and was upon
him, gazing up at Marcus' guarded expression.

     “Do not lie to me,” he hissed. “You heard
Chris was dead and you could not wait to claim his widow.”

     Marcus' eyes were like ice. “You make it
sound heartless, de Wolfe,” he said. “I would offer her stability, protection,
anything she desires.”

     “She has a child, you know,” Edward said.
“She bore Chris a daughter in September. It would be an instant family, Burton.
There is no longer simply Dustin to think of anymore.”