Lespada (27 page)

Her eyes widened. “The king?”

His smile returned and he chuckled. “Aye, the king,” he lifted his eyebrows. “Surely you did not forget that I am his champion.”

She shook her head; then she nodded. “I must confess that for a moment, the fact did escape me,” she replied. “Are you really going to see him?”

“Truly.”

“Will… will I meet him also?”

“More than likely.”

Her eyes bugged and she suddenly propelled herself out of bed. “I must pack,” she said anxiously, motioning to Lucy standing just outside the open chamber door. “Come, Lucy, and help me!”

Lucy was as skittish as a bird. She flew into the room, following Devereux as she bolted into the bathing alcove. Mildly startled and slightly confused at the burst of activity, Davyss stood up from the bed and scratched his dark head at the crazed women darting around him.

“Your trunks have not been completely unpacked since our arrival,” he called out to his wife helpfully. “You do not need to fly into a frenzy.”

She rushed out of the bathing alcove with a small box of toiletries in her hand.  “Aye, I do!”

He chuckled as she ran past him, towards the neat row of trunks against the wall. “I thought you were feeling poorly.”

She dumped the box into the trunk and whirled on him. “I am,” she insisted. “But that will not stop me from going with you.”

He watched her as she raced past him, stepping back so she wouldn’t run him over. “Are you sure?”

She disappeared into the bathing alcove. It wasn’t two seconds later that he heard retching again.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Wintercroft wasn’t too far from the heart of London city.   As they neared the jewel city of England and the early morning sun glittered off the River Thames, Devereux was enraptured. The structures this close to the heart of the city were built close together, crowded upon each other in some areas, but there were some lovely buildings that Devereux found very interesting. One of them was a beautiful abbey, which Davyss apologized for not being able to stop at.  He was overdue at the Tower of London and could not make the king wait any longer, but he promised he would take her afterwards to see all of the pretty buildings to her heart’s content.

At Devereux’s insistence, Lucy and Frances were along on the trip, much to Philip’s pleasure and Nikolas’ indifference.  Davyss had brought a carriage for the women because Devereux still wasn’t feeling particularly well and he didn’t want her riding a palfrey.  So the three ladies idled away the trip in the carriage belonging to Lady Katharine, finding both the trip and the company agreeable.

Devereux was coming to know Lucy and Frances fairly well in just the few days she had known them. There wasn’t much more to do to occupy their time than talk, although Lucy brought a spectacular piece of
petite poi
to work on.  It was a gorgeous piece of work of a woodland scene and she worked it very carefully as the carriage lurched and bumped over miles of road.  She never even pricked her finger, which amazed Devereux. She would have cut herself to shreds by now.  Lucy also chattered constantly, making it all the more amazing that she never stabbed herself with her sewing needle.  Devereux leaned back against the cab, listening to Lucy speak on all things foolish, smiling faintly at her silly but sweet new friend.

Frances, however, was another matter. She was quiet, humorless, efficient and would not warm no matter how much Devereux tried.  Devereux wondered what could make a woman so joyless; having seen how she interacted with her husband, it was apparent there was little affection between them. Devereux wondered if Frances’ demeanor was the cause or the result.  No amount of jesting or storytelling could coerce a smile from the woman.  She was very serious and, Devereux thought, very sad. It was puzzling.

As she’d been told, Hollyhock was the Lady Katharine de Winter’s home in London, close to the heart of the city and downriver from Westminster Cathedral.   It was a beautiful home that soared four stories into the sky, built of great blocks of stone rather than the wood and mortar that was so popular in the city.  It sat on its own expanse of land along the river, guarded by a big stone wall, dogs, and a small army of sentries. 

When Davyss brought the column to a halt in front of his mother’s house, he bailed off his charger and ordered the men to hold station. Like a mother hen, Lollardly began to take up his lord’s call and squawked Davyss’s commands to the entire group.  As the old priest barked, Davyss made his way back to the carriage.

Devereux’s sweet face was the first thing to greet him; she was staring from the carriage window, drinking in the sight of the four-storied monstrosity before her. But she tore her eyes away long enough to smile at her husband as he approached.

“Well,” he glanced at the manor, gesturing with a gloved hand. “This is where you shall stay. Welcome to Hollyhock, my lady.”

Devereux was more impressed with this place than she had been with Wintercroft; Hollyhock was a home of astounding architecture and beauty.  A lovely garden surrounded the home from what she had been able to see through the great iron gates with forests of colorful hollyhocks and foxgloves reaching to the sky. 

“’Tis lovely,” she said sincerely. “I do not blame your mother for preferring Hollyhock over Wintercroft.”

Davyss gave her a lop-sided grin. “I can see that you do as well.”

She met his grin, shaking her head. “It
is
beautiful,” she insisted weakly. “Is your mother in residence?”

He nodded. “She comes to Hollyhock for the summer because everyone who lives in town in the summer usually leaves because of the moist heat from the river. She likes the quiet streets. Moreover, Mother swears the moisture soothes her skin so she prefers Hollyhock in the summer.”

Devereux, nodding with interest, moved to open the cab door but Davyss stopped her. 

“Not yet,” he secured the door and kissed her on the cheek. “Wait here. I shall return shortly.”

Leaving Phillip and Nik in charge of the women, he entered the stately gates of the manor and made his way to the front door.  It was a massive door, made with strong English oak and reinforced with great bars of iron.  He used the enormous iron knocker which, when pounded, resonated throughout the entire house.  Eventually, the massive door creaked open and Davyss entered.

The entry hall was wide, cool, lavishly decorated. Fresh flowers from his mother’s garden were everywhere. It was an elegant home, just the way Lady Katharine liked it. Everything reeked of sophistication.   He went into the room directly to his left, a massive solar, beautifully appointed, where his mother sat with her two little dogs.  Her ladies lingered in the shadows, quiet as ghosts. Lady Katharine barely looked up from her needlework as he entered but the dogs barked furiously.

“Mother,” Davyss went to her, bending over to kiss her wrinkled cheek and fighting off the happy dogs in the process. “You look well on this day.”

Katharine finished the stitch and gave him her full attention. “You have not come to tell me how well I look,” she told him flatly.

He lifted an eyebrow at her, folding his massive arms across his chest. “So much for pleasantries,” he muttered, then louder: “’Tis your guilt speaking.”

Katharine matched his lifted eyebrow. “I have no guilt to speak of, Davyss de Winter. If you are here to harass me, you can go along your way. I’m sure the king is waiting for you with great impatience, unable to govern the country without his mighty champion by his side.”

She said it sarcastically. Davyss couldn’t decide if he was angry or humored by her attitude.   After a moment, he paced over to the enormous Gothic-style window, complete with precious glass.  Very few homes had such opulence.  He gazed from the window, seeing a portion of the carriage through the iron gates.

“I would assume Hugh has been here,” he said.

Katharine dropped her needlework entirely. “He has,” she was honest, moving straight to the point because she knew that was why he had come. “What he did was not right, Davyss. I told him so.  But it is my impression that it was an accident more than he was actually trying to hurt her.”

Davyss looked at her. “What are you talking about?”

“Your wife.  Hugh did not mean to kill her and I forbid you to seek vengeance against your brother.”

Davyss’ eyebrows lifted. “You
forbid
me?” he repeated, incredulous. “I am a grown man, Mother. The time has long since passed that you could forbid me anything.”

Katharine was on her feet, collecting her cane from where it was propped against the luxurious chair she had been seated in.

“I am sorry for your wife, truly,” she said with great sincerity. “It is a great tragedy. But what is done is done.  Seeking revenge against your brother will not bring her back.”

Davyss watched his elderly mother approach. “She is not gone.”

Katharine’s old eyes widened with surprise. “She is not dead?”

He shook his head. “Nay,” he told her. “Not in the least, although she does have a bruise on her face from Hugh’s fist.”

Katharine suddenly came to a halt, looking exceedingly relieved. “Praise God,” she murmured, hand to her heart, before speaking to her son again. “I thought you were here to kill your brother over his actions.”

Davyss watched her carefully. “Where
is
Hugh?”

Katharine waved a careless hand. “Gone,” she said vaguely, hoping he would not pursue it. “I sent him away. I did not want you to find him here.”

“Where did you send him?”

She looked pointedly at him. “Away. “ She would say no more, changing the subject instead. “Where is your wife, then? Did you bring her with you?”

“I did,” he replied, stepping aside so she could look from the window.  “Mother, where is Hugh?”

She didn’t look at him, pretending to look out of the window instead. “I told you; I sent him away.”

“I want to know where he is.”

“I will not tell you until your anger against him cools.”

“I am not angry,” Davyss assured her as calmly as he could. “But I wish to know where my brother is.”

He heard his mother sigh faintly.  After a moment, she turned to him. “I sent him to Simon.”

At least she didn’t lie to him about it. He felt marginally better about that.  But the confirmation still hit him in the gut. 

“You realize, of course, that you are pitting your sons against each other,” he told her in a low, calm voice. “I ride with Henry to Sussex, probably tonight.  Simon knows this; he is moving his supporters to engage. Hugh and I are riding into battle against each other.”

Katharine’s steady gaze didn’t waver.  “There is no difference if you ride to battle together or against each other,” she replied. “I stand no greater chance of loss.  Either way, I may lose one or both of you.  That has always been the case.”

Davyss sighed faintly, moving away from the window.   He paced to his mother’s fat chair and sat heavily, his big body suddenly weary.  The little dogs jumped on his lap happily but he did not pet them; he was too focused on his heavy thoughts.