Rise of the Defender (136 page)

     “I do not know,” Dustin sobbed. “I left
before it was over. Gabrielle, I have caused all of this strife and anger. I
had to leave. If I am gone, there will no longer be a reason for them to hate
each other.”

     Gabrielle felt for her friend. “Then they
do not know you have gone?”

     Dustin shook her head, wiping her eyes. “I
did not tell anyone, but I am sure they know by now. And they are probably
glad.”

     “I doubt that,” Gabrielle still remembered
how Christopher had looked at his wife, and how envious she had been. “I know
your husband loved you, Dustin. He was very proud of you.”

     “Proud of what?” she wept. “Proud of the
fact that I drove him and his best friend apart, proud that because of me, he
exiled his brother? Gabrielle, he's better off without me. They all are. Mayhap
things can be right again with all of them if I am not around.”

     Christin crawled past and Gabrielle picked
her up. “Dustin, how can you be so silly? Your leaving will not change
anything.”

     “Yes, it will,” Dustin insisted. “Don’t you
see? I am the cause of everything. With me gone, they will stop hating each
other and be friends again.”

     Gabrielle shook her head, Christin's
fingers entwined in the rich brown tresses. “It is not that simple and you know
it,” she scolded softly. “Where were you planning on going? Surely not here to
Nottingham.”

     “Home,” Dustin said vaguely. She did not
want to tell her everything, lest she mention it to John. She hated to think
that she did not trust Gabrielle, but she did not yet.

     “Alone, pregnant, and carrying a child?”
Gabrielle pointed out. “You are not thinking clearly, Dustin.”

     “Of course I am not,” Dustin snapped,
shooting out of the chair, agitated. “My dead husband returns from the grave,
my current husband challenges him to fight for the wifely prize, the king
wishes he had never even heard of the name Dustin Barringdon, and half of the
kingdom is being torn apart from within because of me. Tell me, Gabrielle…
would you be thinking clearly?”

     Gabrielle looked at her. “No,” she said
quietly. “But at least you have men who love you. I am nothing more than a
royal whore.”

     Dustin stopped her raging and looked at
Gabrielle. Lovely, gentle Gabrielle. Dustin's problems were severe, but she was
not the only one with problems. Her self-pity vanished and she threw her arms
around Gabrielle.

     They cried together for several long
minutes, Christin pulling hair from both their heads. They found comfort in one
another and strength, and Dustin began to see just how foolish she had been.

     She was suddenly desperately concerned for
Christopher, and for Marcus. She began to wish she had never left.

     “What now?” she asked with a sniff.

     “We become strong together,” Gabrielle said
firmly. “With you here, I can face John and Ralph.”

     “But I have got to return to Somerhill,”
Dustin said. “I have got to see what has happened.”

     “You cannot escape, Dustin, trust me,”
Gabrielle said with resignation. “I have tried. There is no way out.”

     “There is always a way,” Dustin said
firmly. “You just have not found it yet. We shall find it together.”

     Gabrielle nodded weakly, running her hand
over Christin's dark hair. “She has such dark hair. Marcus must be very proud.”

     Dustin looked at her daughter a moment.
“She is Christopher's child, as is the babe I carry. Marcus and I did not have
any children together.”

     “But you and Lord Christopher are so fair,”
Gabrielle insisted. “How did she come with this thatch of black?

     “My mother had dark hair,” Dustin said,
suddenly remembering her mother's relations. This place, Nottingham, had been
her home. She silently vowed not to mention the fact to Gabrielle.

     Gabrielle smiled at Christin. “I envy you,
Dustin. One babe and another on the way. I conceived my first month here with
John, but he had a witch-woman give me bayberries to eat and I miscarried. It
was the most awful…”

     Her voice faded away and Dustin looked
completely horrified. Of all the cruel and inhuman things to do… she was
sickened for her gentle, lovely friend.

     “With your husband gone, there will be
ample opportunity for you to find another husband,” she assured Gabrielle
timidly. “I will plead King Richard to select a handsome, kind husband for
you.”

     Gabrielle looked at Dustin with honesty.
“Who would want me, Dustin? The prince's whore? No self-respecting man would
accept me.”

     “You are not to blame to your situation,”
Dustin replied firmly. “You mustn't give up hope.”

     Gabrielle shrugged and turned away, her
composure shattered. Dustin set Christin on the bed, not knowing what else to say.
After a moment, Gabrielle turned around with renewed courage.

     “You must be starved,” she said briskly. “I
shall have the servants bring you a meal. And a bath, too. Do you have any
clothes to change into?”

     “Nay,” Dustin said. “I did not pack much, just
necessary items for Christin and myself.”

     Gabrielle nodded sharply. “There is a fine
seamstress here. I shall put her to work on a few surcoats for you. Mayhap she
can finish one this afternoon.”

     Dustin never could get excited about
clothes. She simply nodded as her friend prattled on, acting as if she had some
control of the situation. Even Dustin could see that it was all a brave front,
a facade for a woman with no true place in her world.

     Dustin bathed later that day as Gabrielle
took care of Christin, relieved to have a bit of time to herself. Gabrielle had
brought her a flowing robe of pale blue and Dustin wrapped herself in it as her
hair dried, watching her daughter and Gabrielle play as she listened to the
sounds of the massive bailey floating in through the lancet window.

     To hear the sounds reminded her of
Lioncross, and Somerhill, and the stab to her heart deepened. She shook her
head faintly at her own stupidity and recklessness, yet there was naught to do
about it now. She was in a dark situation and knew she must rely on her wits to
help her escape.

     For once in her life, she could depend on
no one but herself for protection.

CHAPTER
FIFTY FOUR

     Never was a mightier army to be assembled.

     Christopher, Marcus and Richard intercepted
the army riding from Somerhill and took command of the nine hundred man force.
With the additional fifteen hundred men riding north from Windsor, they would
not only lay siege to Nottingham; they would mow it to the ground.

     Richard made the decision to wait for his
army from Windsor. Christopher highly disapproved of the conclusion, but he was
unsuccessful to convince his king otherwise. Marcus actually became quite irate
and he and Richard had exchanged angry words. For a change, Christopher had had
to separate the two of them.

     Richard’s logic was simple; he believed
Dustin to be fairly safe and saw no need to go charging in and risk a great
number of casualties. With the troops from Windsor, mayhap the casualties would
be minimal simply because of the sheer number of men. Additionally, Dustin was
not the primary concern; he intended to regain Nottingham for the crown and he
knew he must show overwhelming force. When mercenary French soldiers returned
to Philip Augustus after seeing battle with the returned King of England, he
wanted the French king to know that Richard the Lionheart would not tolerate
French meddling in his country.

     So they waited outside of the village of
Grantham, a little over twenty miles to the east of Nottingham. Somerhill was
over a half day’s ride and within a day after discovering where Dustin had been
taken, they had their nine hundred troops. Camp was set up and the wait for the
army from Windsor was met with impatience by all. Christopher was nearly insane
with grief and worry, but he knew that within two days, they would be marching
for Nottingham and for his family. Until then, he was helpless.

     Marcus got a grip on himself and was
handling the wait better than Christopher. He and Christopher would talk of
items that related to the battle, but that was the extent of their contact. For
two men who had shared a tent for three years, it was a little strange being
without the camaraderie and support of one another. They would gaze at each
other across the compound, eyes meeting sometimes, but with no emotion. Yet
even with the hurt and jealousy and anger, each man sensed an unfillable void
the other had left within him, although they would not admit it. The pain of
losing one's best friend was too deep for words.

     On the second day of camp, an army was
sighted riding in from the south and immediately the battle cry went up. Marcus
expertly set up skirmish lines under the eagle-eyes of Richard and Christopher
as they studied the incoming troops.

     “Now who in the hell could this be?”
Richard mumbled.

     Christopher could see colors being flown,
but they were too far away. He tightened his reins. “We shall soon find out.”

     The dark brown destrier charged forward,
kicking up great clods of dirt as Christopher ran at break-neck speed down the
slight incline before leveling out on the flat, grassy land. As Christopher
drew closer, he could see that there were no more than three hundred men and he
was truly curious. Who would be riding a small army this far north?

     The answer came to him when he spied the
yellow and gray and black of Lord Lyle Hampton, Earl of Canterbury.
David.
His little brother had come.

     David met Christopher well in front of his
army, the familiar white destrier he rode catching Christopher's eye.
Christopher was so damn glad to see his brother that he was off his destrier
before the horse even came to a halt, pulling his brother into a great bear hug
in spite of the bulky armor they both wore. His anger, his grief, his disgust
with David was dissolved in an instant.

     “David,” he managed to choke after an
emotional minute. “What in the hell are you doing here?”

     David wiped at his eyes, not ashamed to let
his brother see how caught up he was. “Here to support you, of course,” he
said, then gestured to the massive army on the rise. “What is all of this?”

     Christopher was so emotional he was ready
to crack. He cuffed his brother affectionately on the side of the head.

     “Dustin was taken to Nottingham,” he said
hoarsely. “How did you know we were here?”

     “Because I rode to Somerhill, knowing you
would be heading there to collect Dustin, and they told me what had happened,”
he replied, his blue eyes drinking in his brother’s face. “I came to help.”

     Christopher laughed softly. “And so you
have,” he murmured, his hand still on his brother’s shoulder as if incapable of
letting him go. “We are waiting for reinforcements from Windsor before we go
charging in and raise the place. Christ, David, you do not know how good it is
to see you.”

     David’s face was lit up like a candle.
“What about you? Jesus, you were
dead
. What in the hell happened to
you?”

     Christopher waved at him. “It is a long
story. I was severely wounded and it took me three months to find my way back
home again, but we shall delve more into that later,” he said. “What matters
now is retrieving my wife and daughter.”

     David shook his head, still reeling with
emotion. “What about Marcus?”

     Christopher shrugged. “A truce, for now. At
least until we get Dustin back.”

     “That's why I came, you know,” David said.
“I thought you were going to have an all-out war with Marcus and I wanted to
fight with you. Even if you did not want me.”

     “Did not want you...?” Christopher
repeated, realizing how very foolish they had both been. “You are my brother,
David. My only brother. What happened….well, we both said and did things in the
heat of anger that we should not have.”

     David shook his head hard. “I am all to
blame, Chris. You did nothing but protect your wife,” his voice lowered
regretfully. “You were right when you said I was jealous. I was jealous, of
everything you had. When you first married Dustin, it was a sort of game to try
and get you to like her. But when you came to love her, I felt left out. I
guess I had to find something wrong with her to make you not love her so that
things would be as they had been. Can you ever forgive me?”

     Christopher's eyes were warm. “I understand
you returned to Lioncross to act as her protector. That proves to me how sorry
you were for what happened.”

     David snorted ironically. “A lot of good I
did. She married Marcus anyway.”