The Dark One: Dark Knight (26 page)

     “I want to die,” she squeaked.

     “You want to die?  Why in the hell do you
want to die?” his eyebrows drew together.

     She coughed and sobbed and he held her
tighter.  “Because my life is ruined.”

     “It is?  Why?” he asked gently.

     “Because…because it is.” she stammered,
feeling light-headed with all of her crying.

     “You are not making any sense,” he kissed
her forehead again.  “Stop your tears, now.  Dane will not wait patiently for
us much longer.”

     She sobbed anew at the sound of her own
son’s name and he frowned gently.  “Now what?  What did I say?”

     “Dane.” she cried softly.  “He loves you.”

     “I am very fond of him, as well,” he was
beginning to smile at the comical nature of the situation; she was absolutely
silly but he was enjoying it in a peculiar sense.  “Come now, Remi.  Stop
crying or Dane is going to go on without us.”

     She almost couldn’t cry anymore.  Her head
hurt dreadfully and she had the hiccups to boot.  Biting her lip, she wiped and
wiped at her wet face until the tears had evaporated.  He held her the entire
time, stroking her hair with his uncovered hand.

     “That’s better,” he held her back, gazing
down into her angelic face.  “Would you like to get something to eat now?”

     She nodded, sniffling.  He reached down and
collected his helmet, plopping it back on his head and pulling his gauntlet
back on.  She watched him absently, feeling depressed.

     His head came up from adjusting his gloves
and he smiled at her, a rare bright smile. “What do you want to eat?”

     She shrugged as he took her arm.  “Ask
Dane.”

     Dane was eager for a meat pie.  Gaston
found a vendor that made a wonderful cheese and meat concoction and the young boy
devoured two of the dishes.  Remington picked at hers, keeping an eye out for
her sisters, as Dane delved into a raspberry custard.  They ate together under
the shade of a tree while Gaston and his men stood watch several feet away.

     There were streets and streets of merchants
come to Ripon for the Mid-Summer Faire.  Dane had no shortage of interests as
he went from booth to booth, scanning the wares until he came across something
that interested him.  Remington and Gaston followed him, not speaking to each
other, pretending to be interested in other things.  In faith, Remington had no
idea what to say to him and turned her attention to whatever the faire had to
offer.  To think of Gaston and her outburst threatened to bring on the tears
again.

     They met up with her sisters at a cloth
merchant’s store and the four women began pouring over the winter fabrics. 
Excellent wool from Leeds and as far north as Scotland graced his tables and
Remington bargained heavily for several different materials.  With winter
coming, they wanted to stock up on their heavy garments.

     Gaston watched Remington barter with the
merchant, noticing how cleverly she wheedled the man down from his original
price.  Whereas most women could be very aggressive, Remington used her natural
charm and pleasant manner to achieve her goal.  In fact, in the end, the
merchant was barely making a profit on the substantial sale and lamented loudly
on it.

     Rory and Jasmine nodded confidently to one
another as Remington counted out the money; they would each have three new
winter surcoats with the fabric secured and Gaston’s men began loading the
bolts into the wagon.

     “That woman barters like a barrister,”
Antonius murmured to Gaston.  “I personally would not want to go against her.”

     “She is intelligent,” Gaston said simply,
proudly in fact.

     Antonius made a sort of a longing sigh and
Gaston banked the urge to shoot him a hard glance.  Instead, he broke rank with
his knights and moved forward to take a bolt of material that Remington was
trying to handle.  He put it in the wagon and turned around, his hands on his
hips.

     “Anything else?” he asked with a touch of
sarcasm.

     She raised a stubborn eyebrow.  “Could be,
my lord.  I shall know when I see it.”

     He wanted to swat her on the backside
playfully but dared not touch her. Instead, they progressed down the street
again, mayhap a bit more comfortable with each other. The more time passed, the
easier it was to forget about her crying jag.

     At mid-afternoon a parade passed down the
street, loud women and even louder men dressed in wild costumes and brightly
painted.  They were singing and dancing and Dane thought it all great fun as
they passed by and threw bits of ribbon to the crowd.  He caught a ribbon to go
with his dirty candy, mightily pleased.

     The parade passed and the crowd disbanded,
moving along their way.  Remington had Dane by the hand and was walking forward
with her sisters as the men paced leisurely behind them, followed by the
wagon.  From the rear, they heard the weighty fall of hoof beats and the jingle
of armor. 

     “I thought it was you.” Came a voice, very
low and unfriendly.  “You have a lot of courage to show your face in Yorkshire,
de Russe.”

     Gaston turned around calmly.  Four massive
knights astride huge, scarred chargers stood beside the wagon.  Several
men-at-arms were following the knights, all as ruthless-looking and hardened as
the knight sounded.

     Gaston recognized the man and felt his
adrenalin flow. He wanted Remington and her sisters the hell away from them,
for he was more than certain that contact with this knight would result in no
good.

     “The battles are over and we have a new
king and a united England,” Gaston replied steadily.  “I can go anywhere I damn
well please, as can you, le Tourneaux.”

     The knight sat haughtily atop his charger,
his gaze moving to the wagon full of fabric.  He unsheathed his broadsword and
stabbed a bolt, tearing it as he tried to hold it aloft to get a look at it. 

     “What are you doing?  Shopping?” he asked
distastefully.

     Gaston moved closer to the wagon. 
Remington, fearful of the unfriendly knight, was hardly aware that Patrick had
discreetly herded the women into a group and had placed his big body between
them and the unsavory soldiers.  Gaston’s men-at-arms had taken up defensive
stances as well, and Antonius and Roald stood calmly by the horses hitched to
the wagon, their gazes never leaving Gaston.

     Gaston pulled the material off of the sword
and tucked it secure around the bolt.  “My lady is,” he said.  “Is there
something you wanted in particular, le Tourneaux, or are you simply trying to
make a nuisance of yourself? If it is the latter, you have achieved your goal
and may be on your way.”

     “What do you mean ‘your’ lady?” The knight
raised his visor, his face leathered and hard.  “Your wife is in Chepstow, as I
recall.”

     Gaston’s jaw ticked.  “I was referring to
the woman whose keep I now occupy.”

     The knight leaned forward, resting on the
pommel of his saddle.  “I had heard wind that Henry sent you north to keep rein
on Yorkshire.  A proper reward for betraying Richard, eh?  Every man has his
price, I suppose; even you.”

     Gaston’s expression was controlled.  “Be
gone with you, Eugene.  I have no time for your nonsense today.”

     “’Tis no nonsense I give you,” le Tourneaux
retorted.  “Yet what I would truly like to give you is my broadsword through
your gut, you traitorous bastard.”

     A twinkle came to Gaston’s eyes.  “You may
try, of course, but be forewarned I will not be an easy target for you.”

     “To hell with you.” Le Tourneaux hissed through
yellow teeth.  “You who betrayed all that Richard stood for, you filthy
whoreson.”

     “Do not call him that!” Dane charged
forward, his little face red with anger.  Remington gasped as Patrick tried to
catch him, but the knight was too slow. Gaston, however, was fast enough and
wound his thick arm around the boy as he raced by.

     Le Tourneaux snorted with amusement.  “And
who is this? One of your knights?”

     Dane kicked against Gaston.  “I shall kill
you,” he yelled at the knight. “You can’t talk to Sir Gaston like that!  He is
the greatest knight who has ever lived!”

     Le Tourneaux guffawed loudly, as did his
men.  Gaston did nothing more than whisper in Dane’s ear.  Angrily, the little
boy turned and went obediently back to his mother. Le Tourneaux’s eyes fell on
Remington as she clutched Dane to her.

     “Ah, a fine woman, de Russe,” he said,
drinking his fill of Remington.  “A reward from Henry, no doubt. Aye, I shall
wager you were well rewarded for being akin to Judas.”

     Gaston shifted on his big legs and Remington
saw Roald and Antonius flinch, waiting for the signal that would unleash them.
But Gaston made no provocative action.

     “Out of my sight, le Tourneaux,” he
rumbled. “If you linger you risk my wrath.”

     Le Tourneaux may have hated Gaston, but he
was no fool; he knew the Dark Knight meant what he said and he had already
provoked him to the limit. But he couldn’t leave without one last leer at
Remington.

     “If you get bored of the Dark One, seek me
out,” he said, already spurring his charger into a walk.  “I shall show you
what a real man can do.”

     Remington heard a sword unsheathe before
the knight had even finished his sentence.  In a blinding flash, she saw
Gaston’s sword come forth and catch le Tourneaux on the back of the neck and
she grabbed Dane to her, screaming.  From that moment on, it was pure chaos.

     Le Tourneaux was dead as he hit the ground,
his head half-cut off.  The other three knights went into immediate action,
battle-hardened men not afraid of a good fight and harboring a good deal of resentment
toward Gaston.  Swords reflected the sunlight in blinding sequence as they came
forth and there was suddenly no more division between le Tourneaux’s men and
Gaston’s troops; it was a huge brawl in the middle of the avenue and people
everywhere were screaming, running for cover.

     Remington pulled Dane and her sisters with
her, running for their lives. Dane was hollering that he must help Gaston, but
Remington ignored him. They dashed clear of the fight, bumping into panicked
peasants as they went and hearing the crash of goods as tables went over in the
rush.  The sounds of metal on metal followed them.

     Remington suddenly stopped when they were a
safe distance away, turning to see if she could catch a glimpse of Gaston. 
Rory and Jasmine almost crashed into her in their haste to leave the scene.

     ‘Why are you stopping?” Rory demanded.

     Remington stood on her toes, peering into
the swarm.  “We’re safe here,” she said.  “Moreover, I am not leaving the men
alone.  We must wait here until it is over.”

     Rory and Jasmine turned to watch, too, as
Skye clung to Dane fearfully.  The three elder sisters stood side by side,
their eyes riveted to the fight in progress.

     “Do you see Patrick?” Rory asked after a
moment.

     Remington shook her head.  “You like him, do
not you?”

     Rory’s cheeks flushed.  “He is the only
knight who had been kind to me.”

     “He is the only one you have not played
jokes on,” Jasmine said, her voice edgy.  “Do you see Antonius?”

     “Your Roman god?  Nay, I do not see him,”
Remington said with a faint smirk.  “But the fight is still going on, so they
must be whole.…”

     Her voice trailed off as she caught sight
of Gaston.  He was a good head taller than the other participants, his black
hair glistening in the sun.  He was locked in combat with a knight and a
soldier, both men trying to do the Dark Knight serious harm, yet Gaston fended
them off as if he were doing nothing more than practicing.  The soldier took a
blade to the abdomen while the knight was the unfortunate recipient of an
armored elbow to the neck, followed by a mortal blow to the head.

     Remington had never seen a fight before,
and was astonished at the speed and fury.  Roald and Antonius managed to kill
three soldiers while Patrick took out another knight all within the first
minute or so.  Seeing their comrades dead, the rest of le Tourneaux’s men
decided there was nothing left worth fighting for and turned tail, making exit
post haste.  There was no chance of victory against the Dark Knight.

     As quickly as it started, the fight was over. 
Merchants and shoppers alike slowly peered out of the hiding places, shaken but
quick to recover.  Fights were not unusual between soldiers of opposing houses
and rapidly the street began to resume normal activities.

     Gaston picked his helmet up from the ground
where it had tumbled from the wagon seat and put it on his head, ironically, he
thought, after the fact.  Glancing at his men to make sure no one had been
injured, his eyes sought out Remington.

     She wasn’t hard to find; the most
beautiful, heavenly woman he had ever seen was walking toward him in the
company of her sisters and son.  He was relieved to see she was unharmed, and
even more relieved to see she was smiling at him.  His heart melted, his body
went limp, and he wanted nothing more at that moment than to take her into his
arms. Dane broke away from the women and ran toward him at breakneck speed.