The Dark One: Dark Knight (24 page)

     “Aye, my lord?” the man stammered.

     Gaston gazed at the dirty, aged face.  “Did
you touch Lady Stoneley?”

     The soldier peered around Gaston to
Remington, standing tensely by the inner wall.  “That’s the lady of the keep? 
I dinna know, my lord, I swear it.  I would hae never touched her had I known she
was the Lady.”

     “Then you did indeed grab her,” Gaston
wanted to make sure he understood correctly before he dispensed justice.

     The soldier swallowed.  “Aye, but it was a
mistake.”

     Gaston did not reply.  In fact, before
anyone could blink, he reached out and threw his huge arm around the back of
the man’s neck as if he was about to hug him.  Then, with the bent elbow of his
other arm, he shoved hard against the soldier’s head, bending his neck
unnaturally over his other arm.  As a twig snaps when bent in half, so did the
soldier’s neck.  He was dead before he hit the ground.

     Gaston gazed down at the dead man
impassively.  “And to make sure the mistake does not happen again, you will
serve as an example to all of those who might think of touching Lady Stoneley
or her sisters.”

     Everyone around the soldier seemed to be
paralyzed for a moment, no one moving or speaking or even daring to blink. 
Arik and Antonius moved up behind Gaston and glanced down at the dead soldier,
then turned to walk away without so much as a grunt or a word.  Arik went to
Remington.

     “Come, my lady,” he said gently.

     Remington was like a stone statue; her eyes
were wide as the sky and her hand was frozen over her mouth.  She stared at the
dead man in deep shock and Arik put his hand on her arm.

     “Lady Remington?” he urged delicately. 
“Let us return to the castle.”

     Ever so slowly her hand came away from her
mouth and she turned to focus on Arik.  She opened her mouth to speak but
nothing came forth.  He knew she was lost when he saw the sea-crystal eyes
glaze over and roll back into her head.

     Gaston turned around to see Remington
passed out cold in Arik’s arms. Still lingering on the man he had just killed,
he motioned for the soldier’s comrades to take his body away.  Only then did he
move to Arik.

     “Give her to me,” he rumbled.

     Obediently, Arik handed her over and Gaston
clutched her against his massive chest tenderly; even Arik could see the
softness in his lord’s touch.

     “I want the troop house finished before I
return,” Gaston said quietly.

     “Where are you going?” Arik inquired.

     “To a faire,” Gaston replied, carrying
Remington off across the outer bailey, towards the castle.

***

     Remington was extremely subdued as they
plodded along the road to Ripon.  It was of no matter to Dane, for he chattered
endlessly to Gaston, Antonius and Patrick, curious about every aspect of the
equipment they carried.  They were patient with the boy and answered him
accordingly, but each man’s mind was detached from the conversation at hand.

     Antonius kept eyeing Jasmine from where she
sat on her small gray palfrey, and she would blush prettily and smile at him. 
Patrick was intent on passing gazes at Rory, who would actually act coy, as
Skye, sitting next to her sister on the wagon, would stick her tongue out at
him.  It was a crazy, charming game that went on mile after mile.

     Only Remington avoided Gaston’s searching
gaze.  He rode slightly ahead of her wearing his full battle armor, which
frankly intimidated her.  But she was also confused and bewildered at the
events in the bailey and she spent this quiet time trying to discover for
herself if she did something terribly wrong to have caused a man’s death. Was
her mistake in not stopping Gaston, or was it going to the bailey in the first
place?  She simply did not know and her stomach cramped endlessly from her
nerves.

     Gaston rode calmly at the head of the
column, alone as usual since Arik was not present.  He brought six knights and
an equal number of men-at-arms along, very seasoned fighting men, for he was
unsure of the conditions in Ripon. In the heart of the Yorkist community, he
was most certain to be viewed as a traitor and an enemy and he had no desire to
be caught defenseless, especially with women and children present.

     He would have liked to have ridden with
Remington, to have eased her mind about what happened, for he knew she was
brooding about it.  But it had been completely necessary for her safety and for
the safety of her sisters; when rumor got around as to the severity of the punishment,
no man would so much as look at her.

     Ripon sat in the Greenland at the foot of
the Pennine Mountains.  Even as they drew close to the town, they were greeted
by gay peasants and merchants traveling in and out of the city.  The faire had
started yesterday eve and was in full swing.

     Gaston grew cautious when he realized there
were soldiers everywhere, knights of different houses whom he had fought with
and finally, against.  And there was no mistaking that they knew the Dark
Knight on sight.  He could see it in their eyes as he studied the men beneath
his lowered visor; he could see their bodies tense and their faces grow taut. 
He was not sorry he had come, indeed; he was pleased to make a show of force,
yet he was concerned for Remington and her sisters.  Should any fighting start,
he did not want them in the way.

     “Look.” Dane cried out gleefully as they
entered the outskirts.  “A puppet show.  Can I go see, Mummy?  Can I?”

     Remington looked to the source of his
excitement; a makeshift puppet stage and a dozen children hovering about it. 
She could hear the children laughing.

     “Very well,” she slid from her bay palfrey
and helped her son from the wagon.  A soldier appeared to take the horse from
her and she jumped at his swift action, terrified he was going to grab her for
an instant and terrified Gaston would commit murder again.  But he led the
horse away and she calmed her racing heart, taking Dane by the hand and leading
him towards the puppeteers.

     “We are going on further,” Rory called to
her.  “We shall meet you inside.”

     Remington waved to her and the wagon moved
forward once again, driven by Rory.  Gaston lingered behind, retaining Sir
Roald with him and three soldiers.

     Dane loved the puppet show, especially when
the witch-puppet began throwing out candy to the audience.  Remington stood
back, a faint smile on her lips as her son scrambled about on the dirt in
search of the sweets.  Gaston stood slightly behind her.

     “We can buy him sweets elsewhere,” he
mentioned to Remington.  “He does not need to eat them off the ground.”

     She turned to look at him.  “It is of no
fun to eat sweets that have not been thrown at you, my lord.  Surely you know
that.”

     His helmet was on, his visor down, and she
couldn’t see his face.  “Indeed I do.  But the larger children are getting all
of the goods.  See?”

     Dane stood up, two pieces of candy in his
hands and a frown on his face.  The puppet show was ended when the treats were
thrown and the crowd of children disbanded.

     “I only got two pieces of candy.” he wailed
when he came upon his mother.  “Those bigger boys took the rest.”

     “We can buy you more,” Remington made
amends.  “Come now, let’s go inside and see what else there is.”

     They made their way inside the small gates
that opened up onto a wide street.  Ripon was a bustling city and the faire was
a large one.  Remington felt her tension leave her as her eyes grazed the
hustle and bustle; she liked crowds and people.  There would be much to see and
do here.

     “Where to, my lady?” Gaston asked behind
her.  Taran followed like a trained dog once again, his great head butting
against Gaston as he tried to move closer to Remington.

     She glanced about.  “I am not sure.  Let’s
just start walking and see where we end up.”

     They proceeded onward.  Roald walked casually
beside Gaston, leaning toward his lord.

     “There is a jousting exhibit and
competition, my lord,” he murmured.

     “How do you know that?” Gaston asked.

     “There is a sign posted at the gate,” Roald
replied.

     Gaston snorted.  “I wonder what idiots we
will see here today, then.  An open competition will bring them from all over.”

     “Idiots that hate us,” Roald mumbled. 
“They might make a competition to see who can kill us first.”

     Gaston grinned.  Roald was always the
doomsayer of his corps and he was amused by him.  “Bring them on.  It has been
a while since I have competed for sport.”

     Remington was several paces ahead and
stopped at a booth boasting fine leather purses and shoes.  While Dane danced
impatiently beside her, she carefully inspected a lovely pair of white doeskin
boots.  The merchant was intent on showing her a purse to match and she studied
the pouch with equal care.

     Gaston watched Dane wriggle and complain
and finally took pity on him.  He walked up and took the boy by the shoulder.

     “Look over there, Dane,” he pointed with
his huge mailed hand.  “There is a man with trained dogs.”

     Dane’s eyes lit up.  Gaston walked him
across the avenue and together they watched five trained dogs jump through
hoops and dance on their hind legs.  Dane was enthralled, clapping loudly with
every accomplishment and Gaston had to smile at the boy’s enthusiasm.  He was
growing quite attached to the lad in lieu of his own absent son, and watching
Dane made him long for his own boy.

     He had not seen Trenton in almost a year. 
He had spent so much of his time fighting for Henry and avoiding Mari-Elle that
Trenton had suffered in the process.  He so desperately wanted to have his son
with him, but he could not offer the boy a proper life.  At least at
Clearwater, he was in a stable environment.  Even if he had grown up thinking
his father wanted nothing to do with him.

     Yet Gaston saw his chance for knowing his
son was nearly passed, for the boy was soon to foster at Northwood Castle in
Northumberland.  He had made arrangements with Lord Longley, an old soldier and
friend of Gaston’s father, after Trenton was born.

     But as he watched Dane, he realized that
there was no reason for Trenton to go to Kent.  After all, Dane was staying at
Mt. Holyoak to foster; why shouldn’t Trenton come as well?  Gaston planned to
make Mt. Holyoak his seat, his haven for the rest of his life, and he wanted
his son with him.  Who better to train the boy than he and Arik?

     He crossed his arms with a grunt of
satisfaction at his conclusion.  Aye, his son would come to live with him and
he himself would oversee the boy’s development.  He only hoped he could undo
everything Mari-Elle had undoubtedly instilled into the lad.

     The little dog show was over and Dane took
great delight in petting one of the friendly animals, a wiry little mutt with
short white hair.  The dog waged his tail furiously and licked Dane’s hand.

     “He likes me,” Dane said proudly, beaming
at Gaston.

     “Aye, he does,” Gaston agreed.  “A smart
animal.”

     Dane continued to pet the dog and Gaston
turned his head in the direction of approaching horses; destriers, no doubt,
from the sound of the thunder.  He briefly wondered what fools would be riding
chargers in the midst of civilians.

     Remington picked that moment to cross the
street toward them.  He caught her out of the corner of his eye and whirled
around, preparing to yell at her to halt.  His heart went racing into his
throat, visions of her plastered all over the dirt filling his mind.  Gaston
had never come close to panic in his life; the distinct taste of it on his
tongue brought him to a new level of awareness.

     But the chargers were already coming to a
stop, and so did Remington.  She took a few steps back as the great warhorses
danced in front of her, four of them in all. Astride them sat four
well-seasoned, over-dressed knights.

     Gaston went from the verge of panic to the
brink of extreme protectiveness.  He could see Roald taking hold of Remington’s
arm and pulling her back, away from the men, but Remington did not appear the
least bit concerned.  One of the knights threw up his visor.

     “By damn.  Remington Stoneley, in the
flesh.” he crowed.  “I have not seen you in over a year, girl.  Where are you
man-eating sisters?”

     Remington smiled broadly at the man and
Gaston had to clench his fists to keep from raging out of control.  Already, he
was making his way toward them, fighting to keep a casual pace.

     “What are you doing here, Derek?  I heard
you were in Manchester,” she said gaily.

     The knight was a young, fair, generally dashing
man.  He waved a careless hand at her.  “I was, but I came back here to catch a
glimpse of you.  You look ravishing, love, as usual.”