Rise of the Defender (147 page)

     Christopher loved her. He had said it and
begged for her forgiveness. She was confused and thrilled and anguished all at
the same time. She wanted nothing more than to collapse in his embrace but the
soldier holding her arms and the one setting his sights on her belly would have
something to say about it. She wondered if fainting would do any good; would
they leave her in a heap? Would it distract Ralph enough so that Christopher
could gain the upper hand? She just did not know and she was too fearful to
attempt anything. So she watched, and waited, like everyone else.

     Christopher eyed Ralph a moment, knowing he
had no choice. The thought of kneeling to the man sickened him, but he would do
anything to gain Dustin's release. Yet he was well aware that Ralph could just
as easily kill her anyway. Still, he could only do as he was asked.

     With a movement as fluid and graceful as a
cat, he went down on one knee and faced Ralph.

     “I would then beg you to release my wife,
Fitz Walter,” he said with nary a quiver of disgust in his voice.

     Ralph chuckled softly and took a few steps
towards him, his hands on his hips. “You can do better than that.”

     “No, Chris!” Dustin yelled, twisting in the
grip that held her. “Do not beg him, the evil bastard!”

     Christopher did not look at his wife, he
was focused on the sheriff. “I will again beg for mercy, my lord. Release my
wife and I will be ever grateful.”

     “Better, better,” Ralph inclined his head.
“Mighty Defender. You do not look very mighty now.”

     Tears came to Dustin then. She could not
stand to see Christopher so humiliated, humbled in front of Richard and all of
his knights. Big sobs came bubbling forth and she stopped struggling, hanging
her head in sorrow.

     “Do not beg him.” she moaned. “Please,
Chris, do not.”

     He could hear her sobs and they broke his
heart. His careful control was slipping. “Give her to me, Ralph. Have you no
compassion?”

     “No,” Ralph said flatly. “Not for you, and
not for your wife.”

     Dustin would have done anything to get
Christopher out of his predicament. Anything at all. The first crazy idea that
popped into her mind was the one she went with. With a scream that would have
made many a woman proud, she suddenly clutched her stomach and buckled her
legs.

     “My God!” she cried out. “The
baby…..something is wrong.”

     All men are afraid of pregnant women, and
the battle-hardened soldiers of Nottingham and Richard's forces were no
exception. All eyes snapped to her, even the soldiers on the wall who had heard
her, and for a brief moment, confusion reigned in all of them. Christopher,
seized with panic, shot to his feet and started to run for his wife, but Ralph
was closer.

     The sheriff saw the Defender on a dead run
toward his wife and panic of his own set in. Using a pre-arranged signal, he
raised his arm with the yell of a barbarian, signaling the archers on the wall
to let loose their arrows. Dustin, still clutching her stomach, really did
scream as a rain of arrows cascaded down in Christopher's direction. Ralph was
suddenly on her, bull-dogging her and the two soldiers back inside the small
door. The last glimpse Dustin had of her husband was of him being slammed with
a hundred arrows.

     The battle started in that split second.
Richard sounded the battle cry and his troops moved, their yells filling the
humid summer air and the sounds of unsheathing swords deafening.

     Dustin, shrieking and crying, was dragged
into the bailey and hastily thrust into the arms of several waiting guards.

     “Take her to my room.” Ralph yelled above
the noise of the infant battle. “Keep her there until I come for her.”

     Dustin could not fight, she was far too
stunned with witnessing what she was sure had been Christopher's death. How
could he have survived the hall or arrows? Her mind went to mud and her knees
collapsed, and she felt herself being lifted and carried into the dark coolness
that was Nottingham.

     She welcomed the blackness of
unconsciousness as it swallowed her up.

***

     Christopher was very much alive. His
reinforced armor had protected him from the arrows and even now he was mounting
his destrier and swinging the animal in the direction of the massive gates. His
troops taking the walls, he and his knights were able to focus on breeching the
door.

     Edward was beside him, two hotly burning
torches in his hand. “We can set fire to the gates, my lord. With this heat,
they will burn in no time.”

     Christopher nodded, motioning for him to
hand off a torch to David and together, the two of them set to burning the rope
trappings of the gates. Marcus gouged out great holes in the wood for David to
ignite, speeding up the process. With the ladder going up on the walls and the
gates igniting like kindling, Christopher stood back and waited for his
opportunity to tear Nottingham apart.

     He could not even think about Dustin or he
would surely go mad. He had to keep his wits about him or he would be no good
at all, and there were too many people depending on him. Nay, he would have to
keep a clear head and wait for the gates to burn down and only then would he
allow himself the luxury of thinking of his wife. Only when he was able to do
some good would he let thoughts of her fill his brain.

     “What happened to Dustin?” Marcus rushed up
to him, his charger dancing and snorting.

     Christopher rolled his eyes in defeat; just
as he was gaining control of himself….. “I do not know, Marcus. It could have
just been the excitement of everything.”

     Thankfully, Marcus did not pursue it and
Christopher was able to return his focus to the gate. As was usual with old
wood, it began to go up quite nicely in spite of the rain of arrows around the
perimeter of Nottingham that prevented them from moving much closer. Already,
the men-at-arms were racking up casualties due to the arrows and Christopher
ordered his men to fall back from the backside of the fortress. With the gates
burning, he would form ranks to charge in once the gates were down.

***

     Inside Nottingham, chaos ruled. Ralph and
Lord Bruce were positioning the troops to protect the bailey and the castle
from the breach, but they were having a hell of a time with all of the peasants
running about. Moreover, and most importantly, Dennis le Londe was nowhere to
be found.

     “Where in the hell is le Londe?” Ralph
sputtered, to anyone who could answer him. Several of le Londe's men were
assisting the moment and were unable to answer, feeding Ralph's anger.

     “I am going to gut him when I find him,” he
said between clenched teeth, cuffing a soldier who was foolish enough to bump
into the sheriff. “The lazy bastard has seen his last day of comfort within
John's protective company, I vow it.”

     Lord Bruce, too old to do much fighting,
followed Ralph around breathlessly. “Mayhap he is in hiding. At any rate, we
shall have to handle this onslaught between us.”

     Ralph looked at Bruce scornfully. “You are
no good to me, old man. I need le Londe. When this is over with, I am going to
kill him myself.”

     A young soldier ran up to Ralph, scraping
the ground. “The prince demands your presence, Lord Sheriff.”

     Ralph hit that soldier, too. “Tell the
prince I am trying to protect his bloody hide,” he snapped, then thought better
of it. “Tell the prince I am indisposed at the moment. Inform him that
Richard's troops are burning the gates and that I expect them to be breached
soon.”

     The young soldier, his jaw bruised, bowed
again and was gone. Ralph paused a moment in disgust, watching the boy run away
and shaking his head with the damn foolishness of everything. He was missing
the commander of the troops, the prince was demanding his presence like a
spoiled child, and on top of everything, Lady Dustin had apparently taken ill.

     Damnation, why did everything bad always
happen to him?

***

     The bridge took a long time to burn. It was
well after sunset before Christopher, Marcus and David were able to dislodge
enough of the cinder to allow a man to pass through. But the hole was only big
enough for one man, and Christopher demanded by rank to be the first one
through. Yet Richard outranked even him, and Christopher found himself
following his king through the smoldering opening.

     As they expected to, they ran headlong into
a skirmish line of mercenary troops. Richard took the full brunt of the line,
yet Christopher and Marcus, followed by David and Edward and the rest of the
knights, were quickly there to defend their monarch. Limbs were hacked off,
heads were severed by sheer force of sword power, and the mercenary troops
began backing off quickly.

     With every step they took back, another man
from Richard’s force pushed in through the breech. It wasn't long before there
were several hundred crown troops inside the outer bailey, fighting in such
close quarters that there was barely room to move.

     Christopher was smashed up against Marcus
and Edward, fighting a seasoned group. But his mind was already moving to the
castle where his wife was and he was increasingly desperate to get to her. She
was trapped in the hulking structure, extremely ill, and he could not stand it
anymore. He had to get to her.

     “I am going for the castle!” he yelled to
Marcus over the noise. “Take command here.”

     “You cannot go it alone!” Marcus yelled
back. “I shall cover your back.”

     “Nay!” Christopher boomed. “Richard needs
you here. I must do this alone.”

     Marcus speared a mercenary soldier in the
throat before answering. “You cannot take on the whole goddamn castle, Chris.
Let me come.”

     “I am coming!” David ran over two soldiers
as he reined his horse next to his brother; he had heard the entire
conversation.            “If anybody is assisting Chris, it is me.”

     A fresh wave of enemy troops rushed them
and Christopher found himself fighting off several men at one time. He would
parry and thrust with amazing speed and skill, goring one man and cutting off
his comrade's head with the same stroke of the blade. The fighting was furious
and wild, but Christopher's cool demeanor never wavered. Never was there a
finer warrior in the heat of battle.

     With the wave of soldiers subdued,
Christopher turned his biting, kicking charger for the castle. Richard was
several feet away, under control with Edward and Sean at his side, and Christopher
was confident that the king was well-protected. With that peace of mind, he
knew he had to get to his wife.

     Marcus saw Christopher break free and head
for the inner bailey. He muttered a curse as he impaled another mercenary
soldier with his broadsword, fully intending to follow Christopher into the
castle.

     The further Christopher rode from the heat
of the battle, the less the resistance became. The gates to the Inner bailey
were completely gone, he noticed, allowing him to pass through unhindered. A
few soldiers engaged him, but nothing of importance, and he thanked God that
luck was on his side. It would seem that the majority of the mercenary soldiers
were at the front line trying to prevent the mass of crown troops that were
pouring in through the gutted front gate.

     The battle was raging behind him and he was
consumed with reaching his wife as he bailed from his destrier, taking down two
soldiers who tried to prevent him from entering the castle. More soldiers
dashed into the doorway just as Christopher was preparing to enter, and he
raised his sword to brace himself for another go around. But, as quickly as
they appeared, the soldiers were gone and Christopher did not ask why. He
simply raced into the cool interior of the castle, intent on keeping to the
shadows and moving fairly undetected.

     He had barely rounded his first corner when
somebody grabbed him from behind. His sword came up, crashing down against
another blade of equal strength. He heard Marcus grunt.

     “Goddammit, I
knew
you were going to
do that,” Marcus said frankly.

     Christopher felt relief flood him, but also
irritation. “I told you to stay with Richard.”

     “Aye, you did, but I did not listen,”
Marcus said. “Besides, Richard is well-protected with David and Edward. You
need me more.”

     Christopher scowled. “All right, then. But
keep quiet.”

     Marcus did as he was told and they made
their way up a flight of stairs to the second floor of Nottingham Castle. “Do
we know where we are going?” Marcus asked dryly.

     “She has got to be up here, somewhere,”
Christopher's eyes trailed the length of the corridor. “We shall simply have to
check every room until we find her.”

     Marcus wiggled his eyebrows but said
nothing, following Christopher closely as they made their way down the hall. It
was silent and dim, wall sconces offering the only light. At a junction where
one corridor met with another, there were four or five bodies in front of them,
mercenary soldiers all bearing Prince John's colors.