Lespada (49 page)

 Fully dressed and looking like an angel, she quit the chamber and slowly made her way down the spiral stairs.  The noise grew louder as she drew near the soldier’s hall and by the time she entered, the roar of men and laughter was almost deafening.  There were strange soldiers everywhere, drinking and eating.

 She asked the first servant she came across where her husband was.  The man offered to escort her through the masses and she gratefully accepted, following the rather large servant through the crowd and into the knight’s hall beyond.   As soon as she entered, she saw her husband seated at the table with a dark-haired, slender man. 

Davyss spied his wife the moment she entered the room. He bolted to his feet and went to her.

“Sweetling,” he put his arm around her shoulders. “Why did you not send for me? You should not be down here with all of these men.”

She waved him off. “I am fine, Davyss; I am not going to break.” She smiled at Roger, who rose from the bench and returned her smile. “I am Lady de Winter. Welcome to Norwich, my lord.”

Roger bowed gallantly. “My lady,” he greeted. “’I am Roger Mortimer. Tis a pleasure to finally meet you. I have heard many great things about you.”

She lifted an eyebrow at him as Davyss helped her to sit. “No doubt you have heard many great things about our child, to be sure,” she winked at her husband as he sat down. “His son is all he can speak of.”

Davyss kissed her on the temple. “Not all,” he said. “I speak of you also on occasion.”

Roger laughed softly as Devereux made a face at Davyss. “Do not let him fool you,” Roger said. “Davyss is so proud of you that he is close to bursting. From a man who embodies the male trait of pride, I would say that is quite a statement.”

Devereux’s twisted expression transitioned into a glowing smile at her husband. “He has much to be proud of,” she murmured, gently tweaking his chin. “He is a great man. He told me so himself.”

Roger laughed uproariously and moved to pour Devereux some ale, but someone was shouting his name from the soldier’s hall and his attention was diverted. His men were calling to him and he set the ale down.

“Excuse me, Lady de Winter,” he said as he climbed off the bench. “It seems that my men require my attention. I shall return and look forward to having a detailed conversation with you.”

Devereux merely smiled at him as he quit the hall, hearing the cheers from his men in the room beyond as he entered the hall.   She turned her attention to her husband and her smile faded.

“You know that I do not ask you your business,” she said quietly. “But I would like to know why he is here.”

Davyss held her hand, rubbing it gently between his two big palms.  The gentle expression on his features faded.

“He is here because we are to attend to some business together,” he said softly. “When Roger leaves on the morrow, I go with him.”

“I see,” she wasn’t particularly surprised but she was hurt that he had not told her sooner. “And just when did you plan to tell me you were leaving?”

He reached up to tuck a bit of stray hair behind her ear. “Tonight,” he murmured.  “When all was quiet and still between us, I was going to tell you.”

“But you have known for some time that you were leaving.”

It wasn’t a question; it was a statement. Davyss nodded faintly. “I knew that as soon as Roger arrived, I would be leaving with him. Devereux, I simply didn’t want our last days or hours spoiled with my impending departure. You know how emotional you become.”

There wasn’t much more she could say to that, considering he was right. She averted her gaze for a moment. “How long will you be gone?”

“I have no way of knowing, sweetling.”

“You must be here for the birth of your son. That only gives you three months.”

He sighed faintly. “I will try, you know I will,” he murmured. “There is nothing on this earth more important to me than that. But I cannot promise that I will return in time.”

“Where are you going?”

“I do not want you to know for your own safety.” He shook his head firmly when she opened her mouth to dispute him. “Please, sweetling. Do not ask me any more questions. I will not answer them.”

Devereux just stared at him.  She knew she shouldn’t be selfish, but she wasn’t in a very generous mood. She didn’t want her husband to leave her and she certainly didn’t want him to be absent for the birth of their child.  With a sigh of exasperation, she pulled her hand from his grip and stood up, moving away from him.

Davyss watched her pace away, moving to the extremely long and thin lancet windows that allowed air and ventilation into the room.   He watched her until she reached the window and hung her head.

“I do not want you to leave,” she burst into soft tears. “You are going away and doing God knows what, but I am sure it involves danger and swords and battle and there is every chance that you will never return to me. I want you to remain with me, where you belong, so you may be here for the birth of your son. This is where you belong, Davyss; not fooling around in silly wars.”

He rose from the bench, going to her.   He put his enormous hands on her face, forcing her to look at him.

“I want you to listen very carefully to what I am to say because it is important,” he whispered. “Can you do this?”           

She nodded hesitantly, gazing up at him with big watery eyes, and he smiled gently at her.

“You and I do not discuss political matters because we disagree on them,” he said quietly. “But you must listen to me now. I go with Mortimer because the stability of the country and the safety of my family is my priority.  I would kill a thousand men if it will keep you and my son safe. But it is not merely you and my son; it is my mother as well. She is being held captive in order to ensure that I do not rise against de Montfort.  I must do all I can to ensure that she is safe as well.  I cannot sit idly by and hope for the best, Devereux; I must do something. I am Davyss de Winter and my reputation is second to none; I am the most powerful knight in England. What good is that power and reputation if I cannot use it to make this country a safer place for my family?”

By the time he was finished, she was no longer weeping but gazing at him with a serious expression.

“You are indeed the most powerful knight in England,” she whispered. “I knew that the moment I met you. But you are also my husband and father to my child, someone I love more than anything on this earth.  Even though I understand your reasons, I still do not want you to go. I am afraid you will never come back.”

He cupped her face, kissing her cheeks tenderly. “We had this same conversation the last time I departed,” he said softly. “Do you remember? I told you that I would do everything in my power to return to you and I did.”

She nodded faintly, reaching up to touch his face.  She ran her fingers through is dark hair, watching as he closed his eyes to the sweetness of her touch.

“Aye, you did,” she agreed. “But not without compromise.”

He pulled her into a smothering embrace, opening his eyes to look at her. “And I would do it again if given the same choice.  Sometimes compromise means survival, and I mean that my family should survive.”

She wasn’t going to argue with him; Davyss was doing what he felt was best and Devereux trusted him.  But she missed him horribly already.  She threw her arms around his neck and held him tightly.

“I do not know what I shall do without you,” she murmured against his ear. “The days and nights will be horribly lonely.”

He pulled back and looked at her, an eyebrow cocked. “You still have Louie.”

He said it with some jealousy and she laughed. “Now, you mustn’t be bitter because he likes to lie on your side of the bed,” she told him. “He is simply a little dog. He does not know any better.”

Davyss made a face. “He would know if you disciplined him once in awhile,” he pointed out. “As it is, I am nearly kicked from my own bed by a dog no bigger than my fist. I am ashamed to tell anyone.”

Devereux laughed. “You have never been removed from your own bed,” she countered. “I move Louie aside when it is time for sleep.”

Davyss pursed his lips, letter her know what he thought about both her sense of discipline and the dog.  Louie had become king of the entire keep and his wife allowed it.  Although he was a cute little mutt, Davyss wasn’t particularly fond of it.  He just didn’t like small dogs. Not wanting to argue the point of the dog further, mostly because he knew he would lose, he began to nuzzle her cheek.

“I will leave Lollardly here with you,” he whispered. “As much as I will miss him, I feel strongly that it is more important he remain here to assist in the birth of my son.”

Devereux nodded, closing her eyes as his mouth moved along her jaw. “As you say, husband.”

“He will keep you safe.”

“I know.”

He kissed her neck. “And I will see you every night in my dreams,” he whispered. “You will take care of yourself while I am gone and you will not stray from Norwich for any reason. Not even to go back to the House of Hope because you are bored or because you feel the need to go. Is that clear?”

She nodded obediently. “It is.”

“Good.”

Devereux gazed up into his beloved hazel eyes, loving the man more than words could express.  The longer she stared, the more her heart began to ache for what was to come.  She didn’t want to face it but knew she had little choice.

 “Wherever you go and whatever you do, please know how much I love you,” she murmured. “I will watch the road every day for your return.”

He held her close a moment longer before kissing her, so deeply that it brought tears to his eyes. Davyss didn’t want to leave her but, as with Lewes, he knew it was a matter of life and death.  For the survival of England and of his family, he knew what he had to do.

Morning came far too quickly.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

August 5, 1265 A.D.

It had been a long and bloody night, following an extremely long and bloody day.  The Battle of Evesham was over, the second violent battle he had attended in a little over a year, something that had to be experienced to be believed.  Davyss had seen more than his share of battles in his life and had experienced some fairly brutal warfare, but none of that could compare to Evesham.  Nothing could have prepared him.

The brutality had been of his own doing.  Simon, not realizing that Mortimer and de Winter, among others, had stolen banners from his own son, Simon the Younger, and then rode to battle flying those banners to make the elder de Montfort think that reinforcements were coming, had been shocked to see Davyss and his armies riding with Mortimer and other Royalists.  But it had been Simon’s last thought before the bloody battle ensued and Davyss, along with Mortimer, began to easily cut through de Montfort’s barons.   Rather than capture the nobles and ransom them, the Battle at Evesham reeked of vengeance.  Davyss and Mortimer killed rather than take captives.   It was meant to be a message to all of those who still harbored thoughts of resisting the absolute rule of Henry the Third.