Lespada (36 page)

Davyss nodded faintly, seeing the family resemblance in the man’s gray eyes. Then he glanced into the manse beyond, darkened in the late afternoon. “Is my wife here?”

St. Paul nodded and shoved the old servant back so that Davyss could enter. “She is here, my lord,” he replied, suddenly seeming nervous. “But… well, that is to say, the physic says she must stay in bed.”

Davyss looked at the man. “Bed? Why?”

St. Paul was wringing his hands. “You will have to ask the physic,” he replied. “I believe it has something to do with the baby.”

Davyss felt a wave of dread wash over him. “Where is she?”

“Up the stairs; first door to the left.”

Davyss bolted up the stairs directly in front of him.  The narrow flight doubled back on itself and he ended up in a narrow upstairs corridor.  The first door to his left was open and he tried to slow his pace as he entered. But he realized, as he passed into the room, that he was shaking.

The bed was immediately to his left, the head against the wall.  It was a big bed with lovely curtains around it, very much a woman’s bed. His wife was curled up on her side, facing away from him, and in the corner of the room sat an older, red-haired woman.  She had some kind of mending in her hand but when she saw Davyss enter, she immediately bolted to her feet.

“Who are you?” the old woman hissed. “Get out of here. You’ll not disturb her.”

Davyss cocked an eyebrow at the woman’s tone and put up a hand to calm her. “I am the lady’s husband,” he said softly. “Is she ill?”

The old woman faltered as Devereux suddenly rolled on to her back.  Her big gray eyes were wide with astonishment and shock.

“Davyss!” she gasped.

He flew to the bed, half-falling and half-sitting upon it as he pulled her into a crushing embrace.  Devereux burst into tears, sobbing dramatically as she threw her arms around his neck and clutched him tightly.   The smell, the feel of him, had her overwhelmed to the point of hyperventilation. She couldn’t catch her breath.

“All is well, sweet girl,” he kissed her cheek and head furiously. “I am here now. All is well.”

Devereux pulled back to look at him, running her hands all over his face and hair as if to convince herself that he wasn’t a ghost.

“Are you real?” she breathed, kissing his nose, his mouth. “I cannot believe it.”

His hands were shaking as he gently cupped her face, kissing her with deep and painful longing. “I am real,” he murmured, stopping in his zeal to take a good, long look at her. She looked pale but delicious.  “Why are you in bed? What is wrong?”

Her smile faded somewhat. “The physic says that the baby is making itself known,” she told him. “It is nothing that a little rest will not cure. You needn’t worry.”

He touched her head, her cheek, moving his hand down her arm as if to make sure for himself that she was not about to fall apart.  She felt warm and soft and wonderful.

“Then a physic has examined you?”

She nodded. “There is a fine surgeon in town, the one who volunteers his time to the House of Hope,” she said. “He says our son us due around the New Year.”

Davyss smiled faintly, with great joy, as he kissed her cheek gently. “Then your suspicions are confirmed.”  

She nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him against her tightly. “My joy is complete now that you have returned safe and whole to me,” her smile faded as she let him go and gazed into his eyes. “Are you all right?”

“I am fine.”

“You were not injured?”

He didn’t want to lie to her; she would see the scar at some point. “I took an arrow to the shoulder but it was not serious.”

She looked worried. “Are you sure? Let me see.”

He shook his head, kissing her hands as she tried to get a look at his neck area. “No need,” he assured her.  “I have healed.”

She had to take his word for it, at least for the moment. “And your men? Did everyone come through unscathed?”

He sobered somewhat. “Nik took an arrow to the eye,” he told her honestly. “He lingers near death. Lollardly has remained with him at Lewes Castle.  We did not want to move him in his condition.”

Devereux looked stricken.  “Does Frances know?”

Davyss reached up, smoothing the mussed hair from her face in a gentle gesture. “Nay,” he murmured. “I have not sent her word. I will not until I know which direction Nik will take.”

Devereux shook her head, distressed on Frances’ behalf. “That is not fair to her,” she insisted softly. “She will want to know. If it were me, I would want to know.”

Davyss simply shrugged, not giving her an answer one way or the other.  He seemed more intent on inspecting the ends of her hair, her fingers, kissing them one by one.  Devereux watched his face, seeing exhaustion and emotion in the strong lines.  It was evident that he was distracted, concerned and tense.  There was much on his mind.

“We were told that Simon de Montfort is now king,” she said softly. “Is this true?”

He looked up at her, the beautiful hazel eyes lined with fatigue.  After a moment of studying her sweet face, he averted his gaze.

“Aye,” he whispered. “De Montfort is now ruling England.”

She could see, through all of his strong military façade, that he was greatly distressed by the thought. For the great Davyss de Winter to have to admit defeat must have been a bitter thing for him indeed and she felt a great deal of sympathy for him.

“What happened to the king?” she asked softly.

“Captured along with Prince Edward.”

“My God,” she breathed. “Davyss, what happened? How did you escape being captured yourself?”

He looked at her, then, his hazel eyes riveted to her.  He wasn’t sure he could tell her all of it but, in reflection, perhaps she should know all of it and understand just how serious the situation was.  She thought she had married the perfect warrior; perfectly arrogantly, perfectly skilled.  But the truth was that she hadn’t; she had married a man who had grown up over the past few months. He was a better person now, a stronger man that she had helped create.  He wanted her to know everything that had happened and hoped it was the right decision to tell her.

“I
was
captured,” he told her, taking her hands in his own. “But there is something you must know, sweetling; Simon de Montfort is my godfather. He and my father were the best of friends and Simon is very close to my family.”

Devereux’s eyes widened. “Is this so?” she was truly astonished. “You… you have never said anything about this.”

“I know. It is something I did not want you to know.”

“But you are telling me now. Why?’

“Because it is important that you understand the dynamics of what has happened.”

She fell silent a moment, thinking, wondering if she was ready to hear everything. “But... but you are Henry’s champion. You fought against Simon.”

“Aye, I did,” he replied. “I fought against Simon because I made a choice long ago to support the king, not a baron’s rebellion.  Simon has been trying for years to convince me to switch allegiance but I would not do it. Even when faced with the prospect of fighting against my brother.”

Devereux watched him with sad, concerned eyes. “Is Hugh all right?”

“He is fine. He is with me, in fact, outside with the horses.”

“He is here?” she repeated, digesting what he was trying to tell her.  Things weren’t making a lot of sense. “If you were captured, why are you here? Did Simon release you because you are his godson?”

He sighed faintly. “As I said, Simon has been attempting to gain my fealty for years,” he said softly. “Nothing he could say or do would convince me. But something finally did.”

“What?”

“You.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Me? How did I convince you?” She suddenly put her hands on his big arms imploringly. “Surely you did not heed all of those things I said to you when we first met, about not believing in absolute rule or how I distained the knighthood because they used their power for war rather than unity.”

A smile played on his lips. “Are you saying that you were wrong?”

She pursed her lips wryly, unable to look him in the eye for the moment. “I was wrong about a great many things,” she said, her expression turning earnest as she looked at him. “But the most important thing I was wrong about was you. You are a great man, Davyss. You told me how great you were and I did not believe you. But you were right. And I was wrong about something else.”

“What?”

“You said once that most women would see marriage to you as a great honor,” she reached up to touch his face. “Your greatness does not come from your deeds or victorious battles. You could be a pauper and I would still consider marriage to you a great honor.  It is the man I love, not the warrior.”

He kissed her hand sweetly, closing his eyes to the power of her words. He was deeply touched. “Thank you,” he murmured. “And I am greatly honored to be your husband. So much so that I would do anything to protect you, including ruin my reputation.”

Her gentle smile faded, his words bringing dread. “What does that mean?”

He held her palm against his mouth as he spoke. “It means that Simon threatened to take you hostage unless I joined him.  I could not allow this to happen; I could not take the chance of you becoming deeply involved in a deadly game.  So I agreed to swear fealty to him on the condition that he leaves you untouched.”

Devereux stared at him.  As he watched, the gray eyes filled with tears that spilled over onto her cheeks. She suddenly threw her arms around his neck and held him tightly.

“Oh, Davyss,” she sobbed. “I am so sorry; so very, very sorry that I caused this.”

He held her close, stroking the back of her head with one great hand. “You did not cause anything, sweetling,” he assured her softly. “I made the decision; not you. It was my choice completely.”

“But you made it because of me.”

He sighed faintly. “As I feel you warm and safe in my arms, I would make the same choice a thousand times over.” He pulled her back, holding her face between his two big hands as he fixed her in the eye. “Had this happened before I met you, I would have died rather than switch allegiance. It would have been a matter of pride more than honor; Davyss de Winter cannot be coerced into anything no matter what the circumstances. But with you involved...  there was no pride or honor involved. I made my decision solely based on the fact that I would do anything to protect you and my family.  My agreement to Simon has allowed my knights to be released, my brother and I to serve together again, and has guaranteed your safety. To have thought of only me, and to have been stubborn about it, would have had negative consequences for everyone around me. I cannot only think of myself any longer. Does that make sense?”

She sniffled, tears fading as she digested his words. “Aye,” she replied. “But what does it all mean? What will happen now?”

He thought a moment. “I must return to London because Simon is convening all of the barons in England.”