Word of Honor (Knights of Valor Book 1) (23 page)

Symond nodded
and moved off without further conversation. He mounted the horse that had been
brought around. Merryn noticed that Hobard and Sir Alard were also saddled up,
ready to ride.

“Godspeed
on your journey,” she told the physician and knight. “Please give my best to
the king and queen, and I hope you enjoy the remainder of the summer progress.”

She waved
as they galloped away. Someone came and stood next to her. Expecting it to be
her husband come to bid their guests farewell, it surprised her to find Raynor
at her elbow.

“Where’s
Geoffrey?” he asked. “’Tis strange that he would not come to see his visitors
off.”

“I also
leave today,” Raynor continued. “’Twould be nice to give my cousin a hearty hug
and a handshake before I get on the road.”

A moment of
doubt filled Merryn. She had learned the worst last night. Between Hardi’s
confession and Geoffrey’s confirmation, she knew all that her husband had
suffered.

What if in
retelling her of the horrific events, it had unhinged his mind?

No. She
resolved not to think of that. They loved one another. Sharing in the truth, no
matter how ghastly it was, should bring them together. They were two made one,
by their marriage vows and the passion they shared. He would not leave again of
his own accord.

Then it
occurred to her that Sir Alard had been on duty this morning when she’d gone to
check on Hardi.

And that
meant Symond Benedict had been standing watch last night.

Merryn did
not remember the knight present while Hardi poured out his heart to her, but
he’d made a habit of lingering in the shadows of the room the last few days.
She realized Symond had born witness to everything Hardi revealed about
Geoffrey’s hardship. He also would have heard every word spoken between her and
Geoffrey in the aftermath.

It
infuriated her that the knight did not make his presence known. And it
frightened her with how obsessed he seemed with her. What if he had confronted
Geoffrey about what he overheard? Mocked him for being a helpless prisoner for
all those years?

Would that
have been enough to drive Geoffrey over the edge? Would Simon have tried to
convince Geoffrey that she was better off without him?

Again, she
rejected that. In truth, the husband who returned to her after his long incarceration
might have believed Symond. He’d come back timid. Afraid of his own shadow. But
through her love and encouragement, Merryn had seen him grow in spirit and
confidence. She believed if Symond had confronted Geoffrey last night in such a
manner, he would have sported a black eye and split lip today. Her husband
would not have tolerated such taunts.

Yet where
was he?

Concerned,
she said to Raynor, “We need to find him. Let us ask a few of the servants if
they have seen him. Meet me in the Great Hall in half an hour. You check the
stables and both baileys. I will ask inside the keep.”

They met up
at the specified time and found neither had come across anyone who’d laid eyes
upon Geoffrey since he left the Great Hall last night bearing a tray of food.

“We must
search the entire castle then,” she proclaimed. “Something is very wrong,
Raynor. I feel it in my bones. I cannot share the whole of it, but know that
when Geoffrey left me last night, he had much on his mind.”

Alys tugged
on her cote-hardie. “Mother, where is Father? He promised to help me ride my
pony and pick flowers for you.”

Merryn gave
her daughter a hug. “Your father had some business to take care of, love. I
shall be sure and remind him of your plans when I see him. Now run along.”

She went up
to the second floor chambers and decided to search room by room. The solar was
empty except for Tilda and a maid cleaning it. Elia still napped in her room.
Raynor’s chamber held his packed bag sitting atop the bed.

Then she
reached the twin’s room. She found Ancel playing with the small, carved figures
that Geoffrey had once enjoyed as a child. She had given them to him in hopes
he would feel close to the man he’d never known.

“Ancel,
have you seen your father this morning? I have need of him.”

Her son
gave her a sour look. “Not since he was drunk last night.” His nose wrinkled in
disgust.

Merryn
hurried to him. She grabbed his shoulders. “What? Drunk? ‘Tis impossible. Where
did you see him?”

Ancel’s
bottom lip stuck out as stubbornly as she knew her own did at times. “I cannot
say. I gave my word.” He shrugged from her grip. “I plan to be a knight,
Mother. I shall serve and protect the king. I must be honest and never lie. My
word is my bond. ‘Tis important that I keep it.”

“Christ’s
wounds!” she proclaimed. She was so tired of hearing about how important
keeping an oath was to a man.

Merryn
glared at her son. “You are
not
a knight, Ancel de Montfort, and you
shall never
be
a knight unless you first learn obedience to your elders.
Especially your parents. Father Dannet has told you to honor your mother.

“So tell
me. Now. I command you.”

Her
forceful words and tone caused her son’s eyes to fill with tears. He buried his
face in her cote-hardie, his small arms wrapping tightly about her. She knew
she had pushed hard enough. She would allow him to speak in his own good time.

Merryn drew
him to sit upon the bed. Ancel snuggled next to her.

After some
minutes, she asked quietly, “Where did you see your father? And why did you
believe him to be drunk?”

He sniffed.
“Tilda put us in bed, but I forget my sword in the Great Hall.” He dropped his
eyes. “I forgot it before, and Raynor threatened to take it away. He told me I
was careless and that knights could not afford to be careless.”

Ancel
shifted and looked back at her. “I did not want him angry with me. So though
‘twas late, I slipped out of bed and went to fetch it.” He paused. “When I left
the hall, I saw Father in the hallway. He was so drunk, he could not stand.”

“Was he
sitting on the ground?” she asked, gently prodding him.

“Nay. Sir
Symond had both arms about him, holding him up. He dragged him along. Sir
Symond asked me to give my word and tell no one that I saw them. He said
‘twould embarrass you, Father being in his cups. He said the lord of Kinwick
should be held to a higher standard. And that you deserved better.”

Right away,
Merryn knew something was wrong. Geoffrey had not the time to become that
inebriated. In fact, she had never seen him behave in such a manner. And for
him to be in Symond Benedict’s company, knowing he was the man Edward had
chosen for her to wed?

Never.

Besides,
Symond had said naught to her when they spoke this morning. Her suspicions
grew.

She turned
to Ancel. “Did you see where Sir Symond took your father? To bed down in the
Great Hall?”

Ancel
frowned. “No. They passed it by. They went toward your herb room.”

Merryn dug
her fingernails into her palms. She contained the angry shriek that longed to
escape from inside her, not wanting to frighten her son.

Instead,
she smiled at him reassuringly. “’Tis a good boy you are, Ancel. And ‘tis a
great knight you’ll make someday. Thank you for honoring the vow of honesty.
‘Tis a quality each great knight possesses. Your father is one such knight. He
shall teach you all you need to know about being a true knight and a fine man
of character.”

She took
Ancel’s face in her hands. “I know you still have doubts about your father, my
boy. But he is the best of men. The best I have ever known. Even our king and
the Black Prince have the utmost faith in him and trust him with their lives.
They know Geoffrey de Montfort to be a man of honor, and his word is truth. You
will do well to learn from him.”

She kissed
her son’s forehead. “Trust in him, Ancel. I promise you will not regret it.”

With that,
Merryn picked up her skirts and flew from the room.

***

Geoffrey
thought back years ago to the siege of a castle in France. After weeks of
attack, the commander stood firm and would not surrender. The Black Prince had
said the castle would yield when enough of its inhabitants starved.

It had
taken three months.

But those
people had been able to seek out resources within the castle itself. They could
find scraps to gnaw upon. Even resort to eating dogs.

How long
would he stay alive in this empty, pitch-black cell?

With access
to neither food nor water, death awaited him in mere days.

His chief
regret? Merryn would never know what happened to him. She might believe he
slipped into madness and fled, revealing and reliving his worst nightmares to
her. Or she might think him ashamed that she knew what had occurred. That
Berold had brought him to his knees, and Geoffrey thought he was not good
enough for her anymore.

Would she
live her life alone, as she had before his return? Could she possibly be with
child again? They had coupled numerous times since his return, the sweet bonds
of love restoring his faith in himself and their relationship. Would she once
more carry his child without him at her side, bearing it without his support?

Bitter
tears spilled from his eyes as he stood in the dark. Geoffrey gripped the iron
bars in his hands and shook them with all his might. Yet already, he could tell
his body weakened. He had not eaten since the noon meal yesterday.

To be so
close to his beloved and never be discovered pained him physically. No one at
Kinwick ever came to the dungeons. No marauding invaders lurked nearby, nor
rebels in a civil war. It might be decades before anyone ventured down here and
found his bones, wondering who the man locked within the cell might have been.

His voice,
long gone from the hours of shouting, broke in a whisper as he raged against a
God who would allow this to happen. Not once. But twice. The whole thing had
come full circle.

And this
time he had no one to free him.

Geoffrey slumped
to his knees. Hope slipped from his fingers. He pictured a worried Merryn
searching Kinwick for him. Her growing despair when he could not be located.
Lying in misery in their bed, her pillow soaked with futile tears.

Word would
be sent to the king. This time, Edward would act swiftly. He had already
decided which knight to reward, so making the decision would not be difficult.

He imagined
Symond Benedict riding triumphantly through the gates of Kinwick, looking
around at his reward. Taking Merryn to wife. Banishing Ancel and Alys to a
household far away.

And making
love to his new wife.

Geoffrey
could not rid himself of the agonizing images that flew at him. Benedict’s
rough hands sliding along Merryn’s smooth skin. Running through her silken
hair. Grasping her buttocks and yanking her toward him. Coupling with her.

He longed
for death to come swiftly and end this torment.

He had
never wished for it—not once—in all his time in the dark cell at Winterbourne.
Every fiber in his being wanted to return to Merryn, which caused him to want
to live. But this time ‘twas different.

Geoffrey
curled into a ball.

Wait . . .

After years
in the dark, his hearing was sharpened. He sat up.

He heard
something.

And once
again, despair melted away as he sensed the change in the air. Saw a faint
light glowing in the distance, moving toward him.

Geoffrey
cried out, but his voice was barely above a whisper. It sounded as a babe who
might whimper fussily, wanting more of his mother’s milk but too sleepy to
protest overmuch.

Using the
bars again to pull himself to his feet, he beat his hands against them. Any
noise to bring someone close.

And then
Merryn stood before his cell, a lantern in her hand, the anguish on her face
melting away, replaced by a look of surprise and then utter joy.

He held the
bars tightly to steady himself and leaned his forehead against them. Merryn’s
arms came through the bars, grasping his face, pulling him toward her. She
kissed him. He tasted her salty tears, but more importantly, he tasted her
love. He would not die alone. His wife had rescued him again, in more ways than
one.

She broke
the kiss. “How the Devil do I get you out of here?” she demanded.