A True and Perfect Knight (12 page)

“Do you also believe that boars have teats?”

The men in the circle laughed, adding crude jests of their own about Haven’s lack of reasoning skills.

“Nay I do believe you know that the moment news of my death at your hands reaches Edward he will hunt you to the ends of the earth. I do not think an outlaw life is what you or your men want. In fact, I am certain of it, because Roger wrote that you shared with him your dreams to gain a holding. I would wager others of your band have similar dreams.”

The laughing men fell silent. So he had hit home. Roger had written no such thing. Haven had gambled on what he knew to be true of most men in service to another man.

“Bah,” Owain snorted. “As the loyal retainers of a traitor we are already condemned and outlawed. What difference does it make if we kill you or not?”

“If that’s what you believe, very little. But have you seen the order outlawing any or all of you? I doubt that Edward wrote such a thing. He’s more interested in finding the source of Roger’s treason than in the men who followed him because they vowed to do him service.”

“Just because I have not seen it does not mean such an order does not exist.”

“True, but what if you could prove that you were not vassals to a dead traitor but to a living, trusted servant of the king?”

“Are you offering us places in your retinue?”

“I am.”

“Why?”

“Many reasons. Most chief among them is that I do not believe Roger would accept fealty from men who would betray their overlord, no matter who he was. That means you are trustworthy. Second, Edward needs experienced men to fight against the Welsh.” Haven decided not to mention as a reason the guilt he felt for his own part in their former lord’s death.

“A moment, Sir Haven, I would confer with the others.” Owain turned his mount to face the circle of men. “Each man must make his own decision to accept or reject this knight’s offer. Each man must agree to abide by the majority decision. Consider carefully; tell your yeas or nays to Blacksund. He will state the tally after each man has had his say.”

Owain then turned his mount about again. “I will watch you while the men make their decision.”

They waited, Owain with unparalleled patience, Haven with barely leashed worry.

Shortly Blacksund came forward and whispered in Owain’s ear. The knight gave a shout of laughter and slapped his thigh. “You just might get what you want, sir.”

Haven smiled and started to rise. “I knew you and your men could recognize the wiser course.”

“But first I get what I want.”

Haven straightened. Keeping Thomas well behind him, he focused on Owain. “What do you mean?”

“The men are split evenly, seven for and seven against. They want the matter decided by combat. You and I will fight. If you win, we all swear fealty to you. If I win, Thomas comes with us, and you…well, you’ll probably be dead.”

Haven kept his face carefully blank. He did not want Owain to know how much he wanted this fight. The man deserved a drubbing for his conceit, if naught else. Haven prayed he could beat the man.

“What’s the matter?” Owain taunted. “Afraid you’ll discover how true and perfect you are not?”

Nay.” Haven bent and spoke quietly to Thomas. “I will fight you. But only under terms.”

“Terms. You think to offer terms when we could kill you and not suffer a blow?”

“I doubt it would be that easy, but yes, I offer terms. Thomas will sit in this oak tree where I put him. No man will touch him until I breathe my last or Owain yields to me. Agreed?” Suiting action to word, Haven placed Thomas securely in the tree.

Every man, Owain included, nodded his agreement. Haven picked up his sword, flexed his arms and shoulders to loosen his muscles, and saluted Owain. “Shall we begin, my friend?”

Chapter Ten

The sun had already marked midmorning before Gennie heard a shout rise up from the guards posted near the river. The noise swelled, was picked up and echoed at each guard post between the ford and the camp. Gennie had not realized that so few men could make so much noise.

They did not. If she had been able to see Thomas in the throng, she might have found relief in the fact that the noise came from a crowd numbering closer to thirty than ten. But neither Thomas nor de Sessions was visible among the mass of mounted warriors who spilled over the rise and into camp. Nor could she tell for certain if the shouts were of gladness or alarm.

One hand at her throat, Gennie ran forward to where Bergen stood guard opposite the fire. She arrived at the warrior’s side in the same moment as Rebecca and the servants. Knowing how foolish it would be to search for Thomas between the milling men and horses still crowding into camp, she fisted her hands in the folds of her skirt in order to keep herself from doing just that.

“They’ve come back, milady.” Bergen beamed his broad smile her way.

Relieved that the news must be good, Gennie gave a short nod. “So I see.” The dry words forced themselves past her lips. She would not rejoice until she held Thomas safe.

At that moment, the mounted men split. Thomas sat grinning on the shoulders of a bloody and bruised de Sessions. Fear warred with relief at the sight. Gennie felt a tug on her arm pull her backward. She had not even realized she had started forward.

“Nay, milady. ’Tis better you wait for Sir Haven to bring the boy to you.” Bergen’s gruff tones reminded Gennie of her earlier thoughts.

“Yes,” she whispered as de Sessions left the throng of men and carried Thomas to her. A slight hitch marred de Sessions’s stride. Blood still seeped from a nasty gash on his lip, and red splotches adorned his mail. Yet when Gennie turned her attention from Haven to Thomas she found nothing but a dirty, smiling boy.

“Mama, it was wonderful.”

Gennie took Thomas from Haven and hugged her son to her.

Finding himself safely in his mother’s arms, Thomas’s story spilled out unchecked. “I wanted to talk to you, but you were busy kissing Sir Haven.”

Gennie felt her cheeks flame as all eyes turned on her. Rot Haven, she had not sought his kisses. Now all would think she bartered herself for de Sessions’s favor. She glared at the man. He lifted a brow in silent challenge, as Thomas’s tale took center stage once more.

“So, I went looking for more quail eggs and got lost. But I was only a little scared. When I heard all those noises I hid. But Sir Haven said the noises were only…”

Gennie’s heart twisted. Public knowledge of de Sessions’s kiss was a small price to pay for Thomas’s safety. Over her son’s shoulder she met Haven’s gaze. “Thank you, sir.” She could think of naught else to say and felt herself blush again. She clutched Thomas tighter and hid her face in his neck.

“…said I was a good warrior. Mama, you are squeezing me too tight…”

Gennie set Thomas on the ground and eased her arms away. Kneeling beside him, she placed her hands in his hair and ran them slowly up and down his small frame, searching for injuries.

“…and then I woke up, because Owain was there with Father’s guard. They looked very angry, and they wanted to kill Haven. I wanted to go to Owain and explain, but Haven said I must not. So Haven and Owain had a fight.”

“Sir Haven,” Gennie corrected. Assured that Thomas remained uninjured, she listened in appalled silence to her son’s account of the events since his disappearance.

“…and I was in the tree. And Owain thrust his sword at Sir Haven, but he pushed it away. And then they both walked around in a circle and made snarly noises. And they ran at each other, and Sir Haven tried to hit Owain with his sword, and Owain did the same, and they did it over and over. Then Owain slashed at Sir Haven. But Sir Haven jumped back and twirled around like my spinning toy. Then Sir Haven gave a mighty chop, and Owain’s sword went twisting away like a seed in the wind.”

Gennie turned a worried look on de Sessions.

“He was in no danger, madame.” The words rumbled from de Sessions’s split lip

Thomas tugged at her sleeve, and she gave him her attention once more. “Sir Haven won, Mama, but you know what he told me? He said that Father had taught him how to make that mighty chop with a sword.”

Gennie felt her throat close with tears of confusion. What kind of man betrayed the memory of a dead friend by kissing his widow, then praised that dead and traitorous father to a frightened little boy?

“Then Owain and the other men wanted to bend their knees right there in all the blood and make their vows to Haven. But Haven said we should wait.”

She felt herself grow more pale with each gruesome revelation. Thomas was too young to witness such violence. Too young to be abandoned by an irresponsible father’s lust for excitement. Too young to be left alone when his mother was hanged for the sin of being married to a traitor.

“Mama, why are you crying?”

“Because I am so happy to see you safe.”

“I do not cry when I am happy.”

“No, sweetling, you do not.”

“Now that I am a warrior, I will never cry, even if I am sad.”

She looked past Thomas to where de Sessions stood talking to his squire and several other men. He paused in his speech, turned his head to observe her, and then nodded. For a moment she thought she saw kindness in his bruised face. Yet something steely remained beneath that chiseled visage.

“I missed you, Mama.”

Gennie returned her gaze to her son and saw the worry beneath his excitement. She hugged him to her once more and planted a smacking kiss on his ear, then set him at arm’s length so he could see she was not angry with him. “I missed you too, sweetling.”

“Eww.” Thomas rubbed at his ear. “Did you have to kiss me? Now I have to wash my ear.”

Gennie felt her heart clutch. Never before had Thomas objected to a kiss from his mother. Her boy was changing, growing up. She smiled to hide the small hurt. “
Oui
, off with you. See that you wash a few other places besides your ear.”

“I will melt,” he protested.

“
Non
, you shall not.” She sniffed loudly. “You might rot if you do not remove that grievous stench from your person. But first promise me that you will never go off alone again.”

Thomas bowed his head and scuffed at the dirt with his foot.

Gennie placed a hand under his chin and lifted his gaze to hers. “Promise me.”

“I promise.” The words dragged out of him.

“Good.” Gennie laughed and slapped a gentle swat on his behind, raising a small cloud of dust. “Now thank Sir Haven for his care of you and be off.”

The boy turned. “Thank you, sir.”

Haven nodded. “You are most welcome, Thomas.”

In a wink, her son disappeared toward the river, with Marie in close pursuit. Gennie watched him go. She forced herself not to follow. It seemed too soon to let him out of her sight, even though she knew he was safe under Marie’s watchful eye.

To keep herself busy, she approached de Sessions. “I thank you for my son’s safe return, and I am sorry that you were hurt. Please allow me to tend your wounds.”

Haven took in her stiff posture and conciliatory words. He could not allow her to touch him. No doubt she was both angry at him and grateful. Angry over that kiss. Grateful for the return of her son.

He had felt the strangest mixture of relief and emptiness at the widow’s tender reunion with her son. As he watched the two embrace, that emptiness rapidly filled with what remained of battle-spawned lust. If he allowed her to touch him, he would spread her legs and thrust himself deep inside her before she could so much as gather breath to protest.

He recognized the feeling as irrational. The woman was a traitor and Roger’s wife to boot, Haven reminded himself. Better not to risk being near enough for her to touch.

“Nay,” he said. “I am not ungrateful for your offer, but Watley will tend to me while I confer with Soames and Owain.”

She had forgotten Owain in her concern for Thomas. “Surely Owain has injuries that need tending.”

Haven gritted his teeth. He would not let her touch his own person. As certain as Hades, he would not allow her hands on anyone else. “Watley will see to Owain as well. You and I will leave as soon after as possible. Go, make your preparations, so that you are ready when I send for you.” Haven turned as if to leave. He forbade himself to act on the desire that seared him whenever she was near. What matter if the witch sought another man’s caress? The possible answers were so ridiculous that he rejected them. It was enough that she was in his charge. He did not want her to touch other men, so she would not.

Gennie goggled at him. “You cannot mean to leave now.’

Haven swung back to face her, determination in the set of his jaw. “Without fail, madame. I mean to have you thirty leagues closer to Chester ’er we stop this day.”

“But I have only just regained my son. He needs me.”

“Thomas will survive without you, and the king demands your presence.”

“But…”

“This is not a matter for argument. Will you, nil you, we depart anon. Best say your farewells.”

Shoulders back and fists clenched before her, Gennie watched him stride away, for all the world as if he did not have a pain in his leg that caused him to limp.