The Dark One: Dark Knight (12 page)

     “Were you born there?”

     “Aye, I was, as was my father,” she
answered.  “My mother was Irish from County Cork.  Skye was born in Ireland.

     “Ah,” Arik nodded.  “So you are half Irish
and half English.  A lovely combination.”

     Her reaction was to blush pleasingly, but
his compliment instantly reminded her of Guy’s flattery and she hated it. 
Instead, she cleared her throat and changed the subject.  “Where are you from?”

     “My parents are Norse, settled in Kent just
before I was born.  “I was their only son and they were adamant that I be an
English knight.  A noble profession.”

     Remington thought of Dane, and of Charles. 
They, too, thought knighthood to be noble.  She thought it was professional
bloodlust.

     They crossed into the inner bailey and
Remington was nearly run over by a reckless wagon driver.  Arik snatched her
against him to prevent her from being crushed, but she suddenly turned into a
fighting cat and roughly yanked herself away from him.  She couldn’t stand to
be held by a man, any man for that reason.

     The wagon passed and Arik looked shocked. 
“I apologize, my lady, if I offended you.  It was just that….”

     Remington shook her head, backing away from
him.  “It was not your fault, truly.  I just…I must return.”

     She spun on her heel and raced back into
the castle, leaving Arik confused.  There was suddenly someone beside him.

     “What happened?” Gaston asked, watching
Remington disappear into the innards of the castle.

     Arik lifted his shoulders.  “Nothing at
all…I think.  Oh, hell, I do not know.  She had come to speak with you about
her sister and I happened to pull her out of the way of a speeding cart.  She
acted as if I tried to take advantage of her.”

     Gaston sighed slowly, long and deep.  “Her
son told me yesterday that Sir Guy used to beat her, quite severely I gather. 
She fears men in general, I think, so it would be best to tread lightly around
her until she realizes we are not a threat.  That goes for the sisters, too.”

     Arik crossed his arms.  “Then I was right
with my first observations.  That woman has been terribly abused.  The boy,
too?  And the sisters?”

     “From what I understand, all of them to
some extent,” Gaston answered unemotionally, though that was far from the
truth.  He found that he was quite emotional about it, although he had no right
to be.

     “This bothers you,” Arik stated.

     Gaston looked at him, seeing that Arik was
studying him curiously.  “’Tis no concern of mine.”

     Arik did not believe him for a moment but
he let it slide.  “The fact remains; what do you intend to do with the lady and
her sisters?  With Stoneley locked away in prison for the rest of his natural
life, his wife and her family are in question.”

     “There is no question.  She will stay here
and remain chatelaine,” Gaston said flatly.  “And her family stays with her.”

     “The old man runs the castle, Gaston, not
Lady Stoneley,” Arik pointed out.  “You could keep him on and get rid of the
rest.  They are of no use.”

     “Why are you so eager for me to order them
away?” Gaston asked curiously.  “In the first place, where in the hell would I
send them?  Lady Remington told me that they have no family and nowhere to go.”

     “Untrue,” Arik countered.  “She told me
that the manor house, occupied by her father until his death, stands empty not
eight miles from here.  You can send them there and they would be away from the
fortress.”

     Gaston crossed his arms and faced Arik. 
“Why are you so intent for them to leave Mt. Holyoak?  In faith, I have not
given it much thought, but I see no reason why they cannot remain.”

     “I am only thinking of them, Gaston, truly,”
Arik said.  “Think on it, man – within the month you will have nearly double
the soldiers you already have, trainees and recruits.  This place will be
turned into one massive training ground literally crawling with men.  Now tell
me, how safe do you think four women will be against over one thousand men? 
And I have grave doubts that we should retain any serving wenches, as well.”

     The thought had indeed occurred to Gaston
and he saw the truth of Arik’s words.  He could leave orders for the women to
be left alone, threat and intimidate all he could, but it would not prevent a
truly lustful man from obtaining his ends.  He would die for his actions, of
course, but the fact would remain that the actions occurred nonetheless.  And
he couldn’t allow that to happen to Remington or to any of them.

     “I have a few weeks yet to make my
decision,” he said, looking away from Arik.  “As for now, I will seek out my
lady and see what she wished to speak with me about.”

     Arik snorted, amused.  “Since when do you
seek a woman out?”

     Gaston was not amused in the least.  He
eyed Arik, his jaw ticking, and his knight received the silent message loud and
clear.  Clearing his throat, he turned and disappeared into the crowd of
laboring men.

***

     Nicolas had charge of the castle as the
others toiled in the sun outside.  It was his duty to coordinate the watches
and keep an eye on the keep in general, and he went about his duty with the
usual eagerness.  He was an extremely intelligent boy, and if not a bit rash,
and was most competent in his duties.

     He kept wandering by the solar where
Jasmine and Skye were holed up.  He would pace, eye the women, and continue on
his way.  This routine had been going on for most of the morning until Jasmine
and Skye had grown quite irritated at his attention.  Twice, Jasmine told him
to go away, but he had ignored her soundly.  Angered, she and Skye set forth a
plan of action.

     And it was for revenge, too.  After all, he
was the reason Rory was holed up in the vault like a common prisoner and they
sought to make amends for their sister.  They reasoned that the action coming
from them would be forgivable; where Rory to exact her own revenge, the Dark
Knight would most likely banish her from the keep forever.

     It was an easy plan; the next time Nicholas
wandered by the door, they would douse him with a bucket of water for his
troubles.  Skye stole a bucket from the kitchens and filled it full with water
from the cistern, escaping back to the solar undetected.

     Giggling and snorting, they waited in the
shadows by the open door for Nicolas to make his appearance.

     He did, like clockwork.  As soon as he
appeared Jasmine let the water sail at him with all of her might, completely
soaking his head as if he had dunked it completely under water.  Her aim was
perfect and they squealed in triumph as he sputtered and gasped.

     “What was that for?” he roared.

     “For being a nuisance.” Jasmine answered
saucily.

     “And for sending Rory to the vault.” Skye
sneered, sticking her tongue out at him for good measure.

     Nicolas pursed his lips together angrily. 
“Is that so?  Well, it would seem that the two of you could use the same
discipline your sister sampled.”

     He took one step and they scattered,
screaming and shrieking and dodging around him in their haste to exit.  He
grabbed for each girl in turn, missing the both of them, and rapidly whirled on
his heels to give chase.

     They would feel the flat side of his palm
against their backsides, too.

     They made a crazy trio, Jasmine and Skye
screaming in terror, or mayhap delight, their skirts hiked up around their
thighs as a knight in heavy armor chased after them.

     The ladies took him up two flights of
stairs, racing madly down corridors and then plunging downstairs again. 
Nicolas lost some ground, but he never gave up.  He was intent on catching the
two misfits and he would have them.

     Nicolas was descending another flight of
stairs when his eye caught a bucket with a ladle in it, perched on a ledge.  He
snatched the bucket and tossed the ladle aside, the devious little boy in him
planning to give the women a taste of their own medicine.  They had ran a
circle and were back in the same corridor that they had started in; sooner or
later they would make the mistake of passing him, thinking he had given up
chase.

     With a sinister chuckle, he ducked into the
solar.

     Remington entered the corridor, her mind
still on her reaction to Arik when he had literally saved her life.  He had put
his hands on her and she had jumped like a boar in a snare.  She was deeply
embarrassed at her reaction; she had not even thanked him for saving her from
the wagon.  But the more she walked, the calmer she became, and she vowed to
make it up to Sir Arik at supper.  Mayhap she could make up for her lack of
manners by playing her flute for him.  She hoped he would forget about the
incident.

     The corridor was warm and she fanned
herself furiously as she made her way to the solar.  She was an avid fan of
Greek and Roman writers, as was Guy, and his solar was filled with mythology. 
Not only Greek and Roman, but Gaul and Celt as well.  She loved to lose herself
in the stories, and a hot day was an outstanding opportunity.

     She suspected nothing as she turned to
enter the solar and was flabbergasted when she was hit in the face with a great
gush of water.  Instinctively, she let out a whoop of surprise.

     “My lady.” Nicolas was horrified; the
bucket in his hand clattered to the floor.  “My God.  I thought you were…oh, my
sweet Lord.  I thought you were your sisters.”

     Remington opened her eyes and looked down
at herself; she was completely soaked.  Her face, her hair, the entire front of
her dress was soaked to the skin.  She looked up at Nicolas, her mouth agape,
when she was struck by the horror on his face.  The man was literally white
with shock.

     She couldn’t help it; laughter began to
bubble up and before she could stop herself, she was screaming with laughter.
Nicolas looked at her as if she was quite mad, but her laughter was
infectious.  Relieved she wasn’t angry, he joined in her laughter.  In fact, they
both looked rather comical; soaked through.

     Jasmine and Skye appeared in the hall
several doors down, their faces a mask of surprise.

     “Remi.  He got you.” Jasmine declared.

     Remington looked at her sisters, her
laughter fading and a twinkle of mischief coming to her eye.  “Aye, he did. And
for revenge, I will get
you
.”

     Jasmine and Skye screamed and tore off as
if the devil were chasing them.  Remington snatched the bucket from the floor
and raced off after them, wet surcoat and all.

     At the end of the hall was a stone cylinder
filled with water.  She dipped the bucket in and continued after her sisters,
albeit more slowly than before.  But she was determined to catch them.

     Dane and Charles found her in the upper
hall and joined her on her quest when she told them of recent events.  Each
armed with a bucket of water, they went in search of Jasmine and Skye.

     Gaston entered the castle seeking Lady
Stoneley.  He was barely into the structure when he met up with Jasmine and
Skye, their faces flushed from running.

     They stumbled to a halt in front of him,
curtseying clumsily.  He eyed them as they staggered and bobbed, looking over
their shoulder as if any moment they expected Satan to appear.

     “Where is Lady Stoneley?” he asked,
wondering at their strange state.

     Jasmine blinked.  “Uh…behind us, my lord,”
she said.  “Up the stairs.”

     Skye looked mortified but supported her
sisters’ explanation.  “Aye, she is.  Up the stairs.”

     He nodded curtly and they scattered like
chickens.  Raising his eyebrow at their curious behavior, he took the narrow
flight of stairs to his immediate right.

     Remington saw the shadow on the wall and
pressed herself flat against the opposite wall, shushing her giddy companions
harshly.  Poised with their buckets, they waited for the shadow to grow
closer.  They were so caught up in their joke that they failed to notice the
distinct sounds of armor approaching until it was too late.

     Remington caught site of the armored boot
in time to halt her own assault, but she was too late to stop Dane and
Charles.  They let the water fly and Gaston walked right into a downpour.

     For a moment, no one moved.  Remington’s
bucket clattered to the floor in absolute horror as Gaston shook his head in
one quick movement, splattering water on the stone walls.  His eyes rolled open
slowly and he focused on Remington.

     “May I ask what I did to deserve that
attack?” he asked, his voice like rolling thunder.

     Remington began to shake, from her wet
dress and from fear.  “My lord, pray forgive.  We thought you were my sisters.”

     “I see,” he said evenly, running his
fingers through his hair to slick it back.  “No wonder they directed me up the
stairs.”