A Dishonorable Knight (15 page)

Gareth silently thanked his friend.
"Yes," he said nodding.

"Perhaps we'd better get moving
again before the horses drink so much they slosh when they walk!"

Gareth grinned at his friend, feeling
much less tense than he had since Elena had kissed Rhys in the bailey.
Tightening Isrid's girth strap, Gareth mounted and swung his horse back onto
the road. They kept up a brisk pace until dusk when they stopped in an empty
cottage.

"What is this place?" Elena
asked as Bryant helped her down from her saddle.

"It's called a
hafod
. Herdsmen usually stay here during
the summer while their sheep or cattle are grazing in the fields over that hill
there," Bryant answered, gesturing west. "But this summer has been
unusually dry and a few weeks ago a fire swept through the paddock. The men who
were staying here barely got their cattle out in time and they've not been back
since. It's rather crude," he said apologetically as he ushered Elena
inside. "But at least you won't have to sleep on the ground tonight."

Gareth bought his saddlebags into the
small shelter and glanced at the bed Bryant indicated. Thick ropes were laced
back and forth across the rough frame which itself was only six or seven inches
off the ground. Sitting on the low bed, Elena flopped back onto the ropes. It
was surprisingly comfortable for being so crude, she thought as she stretched
her arms above her head. With a chuckle, Bryant ducked out the door.

"The least you could do is help
Bryant unload the horses," Gareth said curtly.

Elena turned her head until she could
see Gareth standing in the doorway. When she remained silent, he said,
"He's out there unloading the things from your horse. The least you could
do is help him before you lounge about and wait for somebody to serve
you."

"You have the sourest
disposition of any man I've ever known," she said as she pushed herself
up. Since Gareth was still standing in the doorway, she could not help but
brush against him as she went outside.

"If that's so, it's because you
are the most exasperating woman I've ever known," he replied wearily.

Elena turned back around. "Now
how can you say that? I've been a model of uncomplaining sweetness for weeks
now." She turned and disappeared into the hazy twilight. Gareth heard her
laughing at something Bryant must have said. He rubbed the tense muscles in his
neck and mentally cursed his quick temper with Elena; she truly had been a
model traveling
companion today. Simply because he had been
unable to keep her and their one kiss out of his mind while she obviously felt
nothing in return was no reason for him to treat her so unchivalrously. She
clearly preferred men like his cousin Rhys.

Gareth flung his pack down and
stomped outside. He clenched his teeth as he thought of Elena kissing his
cousin. What had transpired between them during the past week? Rhys was nothing
more than a flirt, could Elena not see that? Gareth turned to start a fire in
front of the hut and paused. Perhaps Elena was full aware that his cousin had
no serious intentions. Perhaps she was only seeking what respite she could
before marriage to the cruel Brackley. If that was the case, Gareth could not
blame her if she kissed every man from here to London. And yet, why was she so
put off when he tried to kiss her a second time? That first kiss they had
shared after escaping the mercenaries had literally stolen his breath with its
intensity, its passion,
its
sheer
rightness
.
Had Elena not felt the same? He shook his head in confusion. The day he
understood Elena de Vignon would be the day he was made King of England.

***

The
two day
trip passed uneventfully, if too quickly for Elena. Though her muscles were
already screaming for relief from the constant jarring of riding, her mind
dreaded the conclusion of the trip. The abbey was one step closer to England,
one step closer to the Earl of Brackley. Though she should be anxious to return
to Richard’s court so she could perhaps talk him out of the betrothal, she felt
only dread. As they rode into the walled-in yard surrounding the abbey at Dinas
Mawddwy in the late afternoon of the third day from Eyri Keep, Elena reined in
her horse to take one last look at the soaring peaks of the Cambrian
mountains
. Though she would see them again, it would be as
an Englishwoman going to meet her fiancé, not as a temporary Welshwoman who
danced to bawdy country tunes.

"Elena?" Gareth asked from
inside the bailey.

With a sigh, Elena turned her mount
and nudged hit toward the gate. As she passed under, the wall's imposing shadow
fell across her and, Elena thought, across her future.

Gareth saw Elena shudder and asked,
"What is it?"

They eyes she turned on him were wide
with fear and Gareth's hand fell to his sword hilt as he stood in his stirrups
to look behind her. There was nothing on the empty dirt road they had just
traveled and Gareth sat back down. "Are you alright?" he asked with
more gentleness than he had shown her for days.

Elena nodded and started to dismount.
Gareth quickly jumped down from Isrid and hurried over to help her. She could
feel the concern in his gaze and resisted the urge to turn her face into his
shoulder and weep out her fears and confusion. His shoulders were well muscled
and looked as though they could easily bear her concerns.

"My thanks," Elena was all
she allowed herself to say.

"Had I known you would be so
subdued around an abbey, I would have brought you by one weeks ago,"
Gareth responded with a laugh.

Reminded that he was eager to be rid
of her, Elena forced her desire for him to a distant corner of her heart and
took refuge in anger. "Has the sun addled your brain? I was merely
enjoying the pleasant quietness of the evening until you began talking."

The smile on Gareth's face faded at
her sharp tone of voice. "Pray forgive me," he said sarcastically.
"I attributed your paleness to discomfort. I stupidly forgot that you have
been a month without the rouging powders you Englishwomen are forced to resort
to enhance the complexion."

Elena leveled her most withering
glare at Gareth but he seemed immune to it as he turned and greeted the abbess
who was making her way towards them.

"Your companions inform me that
you have an Englishwoman seeking refuge?" The dour-faced woman said in
Welsh.

"That is correct, Reverend
Mother," Gareth said meekly. Elena would have laughed at his
expression—that of a naughty lad trying to appear good—were she not
still angry with him.

"From what is she seeking
refuge?"

"She was separated from King
Richard's retinue in an attack several weeks ago and she merely wishes to
remain in your safe keeping until an escort can be arranged to return her to
England."

"That could be months!" the
abbess declared.

"Yes, Reverend Mother, I realize
that. You see
,
it would be best if it took several
months as Lady Elena is well aware of our plans to aid Henry Tudor gain the
throne. If Richard found out what she knew, he may assume she was a willing
conspirator."

"You seek the overthrow of our
sovereign, then?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Elena
watched Gareth and though he didn't show it, she felt sure he was panicked. She
had heard his father assure him that this abbey was sympathetic to Henry's
cause, but she was gaining the distinct impression that this abbess was as
loyal to Richard as an English nun. "We seek only a Welsh ruler for Wales,
madam."

The abbess stared at him through
narrowed eyes before asking, "Does she have any luggage?" When Gareth
shook his head, she continued, "She'll have to wear a habit. We cannot
have her wandering about in unnecessary finery. Bring her in."

Elena stared at the woman's
retreating back in amazement. Turning to Gareth, she raised her eyebrows.

"At least you'll be safe
here," he said defensively. "And you can return to England as soon as
she is able to arrange a safe escort."

"Yes, in several months! I can't
stay in an abbey for months! Especially not with old Mother Doom."

"Elena, hush! There is
no where
else I can take you that can ensure any hope of
seeing you home safely. Will you please try to behave?"

"I am not a child, Sir Gareth. I
need not be told how to act," Elena said as coldly and regally as she
could. But despite her carefully constructed haughty demeanor, she was
loathe
to have Gareth and his friends leave. Turning, she
reluctantly followed the abbess into the dim stone building.

***

Within the hour, the men were ready
to depart.

"I'm sure we can find lodging in
the town if you require," the dour abbess said.

"That won't be necessary,
Reverend Mother," said Gareth. "We would like to get a few more miles
down the road before nightfall. We must reach Aberystwyth within three days and
we dare not tarry."

The abbess pressed her lips into a
thin line. "Very well."

Gareth waited for her blessing. When
none was coming, he glanced at his friends and then cleared his throat.
"May we have your blessing, Reverend Mother?"

The abbess hesitated a brief moment.
"Go with God."

Gareth nodded at her. Turning his
horse in a tight circle, he spurred it into a gallop, Cynan's and Bryant's
mounts close behind.

"She's an old dragon," Cyan
remarked several miles down the road when Gareth finally slowed his horse.

"Though I may burn in hell for
saying so, I agree with you," Gareth said wryly.

Bryant looked worriedly over his
shoulder. "Are you sure we should have left Lady Elena there? They seem
none too friendly."

"The Lady Elena can well handle
even the sternest of nuns. She has the tongue of an adder and a backbone of
steel."

When Bryant looked unconvinced, Cynan
said, "Perhaps after Aberystwyth we could come back by here and check on
her."

Bryant's frown eased. "Mayhap we
should take her back to Eyri Keep as well. Surely she's as safe there as in an
abbey."

Though Gareth refused to name the
emotion that made his blood boil at Bryant's suggestion, jealousy made him say,
"Need I remind you, Bryant, that Lady Elena is engaged to be
married?" He was about to say more, but the crimson flush that crept up
Bryant's face made him bite his tongue. Thank God that woman was out of his
hair!
he
thought. Perhaps now he could concentrate on
the importance of Henry Tudor's cause instead of forever wondering at Elena's
relationship with his friends and family.

As he urged his horse back into a
gallop, he missed Cynan's comforting pat on Bryant's shoulder that accompanied
his knowing grin.

"Captain, you must gather your
men at once. The rebels are to gather at Aberystwyth in less than a week. You
haven't a moment to spare," the abbess insisted.

Sitting on a hard stool by the fire,
Elena started. Did the abbess not remember she was here? The abbess was
speaking to a rough looking man who reminded Elena more of the mercenaries she
and Gareth had encountered rather than a captain of the king. Trying to remain
as still as possible, she concentrated on the rapid Welsh.

"They were here not two hours
ago to drop this
ynfyd plentyn
off. They told me their plans and
expected me to bless their journey."

Ynfyd plentyn
,
Elena racked her brain for a
translation. The abbess had such a strange accent, quite unlike any of Gareth's
friends or family. Stupid child? Elena sat up straight. She was just about to
tell the abbess exactly what she thought of her hospitality when a realization
struck her. The old crow must not realize I understand Welsh, Elena thought.
Why else would she speak so boldly in front of me? Elena swallowed.
Unless she means to kill me.
Her pulse quickened and Elena
thought frantically. No, that can't be it. If the abbess is turning in Gareth
as a rebel, she must be for Richard and would want no harm done to one of
Richard's favorites. And yet, I was traveling with those very rebels! The woman
must think I don't know what she's saying. Elena willed her breathing to slow
and concentrated on the captain's response.

"If I chased down every Welshman
who wanted to kill the king, I'd need several thousand more men and the king's
leave to slaughter every babe in it's cradle. Now if you'll excuse me,
madame." 

Elena dared a peek over her shoulder
towards the captain's voice. Her heart froze and her breath rushed from her
lungs as she recognized the face of one of the drunken men she and Gareth had
stumbled across in the fog not a week before! She turned back to the fire,
willing herself into the smallest space possible that the captain might not
notice her.

"You idiot. It is not three
Welshmen you are chasing down. It is a meeting between Welsh leaders and Henry
Tudor's closest advisors! They are meeting at Aberystwyth in three days."
When the captain remained unconvinced, the abbess's eyes narrowed to mere slits
as she said, "I'm sure King Richard would not be pleased to hear that one
of his captains refused to prevent traitors from plotting against him. I send
monthly reports to His Majesty's religious advisors and I would not hesitate to
tell them of such shoddy soldiery."