A Dishonorable Knight (30 page)

"I'm not questioning your
loyalty to me and this cause, for I know you would lay down your very life once
you have committed yourself to something."

"But?" Gareth prodded.

"No buts, I just want to know
your feelings."

Gareth was confused and he frowned as
he asked, "About what?"

Morgan lifted his hand in an
encompassing gesture. "About this whole venture. I believe in Henry
Tudor's claim, as do your friends, and I know that
you
are fighting for Wales. But I've yet to hear you say you think
we will be victorious. Do you think Richard will crush us?"

Gareth saw the concern on Morgan's
face and
sighed,
tossing the bit of bread he was about
to eat back onto the table. "I don't know, Da. Richard has many enemies in
England, but he has managed to purchase or cajole or win over many powerful
allies as well. And Henry has to get here, gather his troops, and get them to
England. I don't know," he repeated as he leaned back on the rickety wooden
chair, lifting its front legs off the floor and balancing precariously on the
back two. Three men of
his own
age came down from the
upstairs room where they had spent the night. They nodded good morning to
Gareth and his father and made their way down the hall to the shop.

Gareth dropped his chair back onto
all four legs and turned to face his father, noting the worried look on his
father's face. He immediately felt remorseful for his doom saying. "You
can't place much faith in my ramblings. In fact, don't listen to me--I'm a
green knight with little war experience. I guess I'm still uncomfortable with
this whole spying idea."

Morgan waved his hand dismissively.
"You're right, of course. For all our self-righteousness, there is every
chance we will be slaughtered. We would be fools if we went into battle
expecting the angels to help us defeat our enemies and escape unscathed, though
I know that's what many men will expect." He paused and took a breath.
"I don't want to upset you further, Gareth, but have you thought about
what you're going to say to Elena if she's to be kept out of our plans?"

Gareth nodded and glanced down the
hall to make sure Elena had not come out of her room. "I've already told
her that I have changed my mind about joining Henry's fight and that we will be
returning to England in a few days."

"Will she say anything about
this meeting?"

Gareth paused. She had promised not
to mention his involvement, but if she thought he was standing for Richard,
would she not hesitate to tell the king what she knew of this meeting? He
chewed his upper lip, feeling the stubble of several
day's
growth. Gambling on their night together, he said, "No, she will say
naught." His father looked at him searchingly and Gareth struggled to keep
his face smooth and innocent looking.

After a seemingly endless few
seconds, Morgan nodded and said, "Very well. When will you return to
England?"

"In a few days. I would have
Elena well rested before we begin yet another journey, and it will take time to
have her dress made."

"Ah, yes, her new dress. Was she
pleased with your purchase?"

Gareth couldn't suppress his smile.
"She was delighted, I think."

"Yes, well what young lady
wouldn't be delighted to have a handsome young lad present her with such a
generous gift."

"Da," Gareth said. Why was
it that his father could one moment treat him like a worldly important man and
then the very next, make him feel like a boy of seven?

"Well, it's true. You are
handsome. You take after me. Although your mother was quite a beauty as well--had
all the boys after her for miles around..."

Gareth stared in amazement as his
father continued to reminisce about the past. Was this the same man who had
discussed political tactics last night so cunningly with Lord Stanley?

Both men's thoughts were interrupted
by Elena's entrance.

"Good morning, Lady Elena,"
Morgan boomed.

Elena bestowed her sweetest
kindly-older-man
smile on him before turning expectantly to
Gareth, who was standing.

"Good morning, Elena," he
said in a husky voice. Her smile deepened seductively and her eyes sparkled
intimately at him, making the blood rush to his face and his throat constrict.
"Would you--" he cleared his throat. "Would you like some fresh
bread or cheese?"

"Yes, come have some, dear girl.
Samuel's wife left his pantry well-stocked before she left to visit her
kin." As Elena sat in Gareth's vacated seat, Morgan continued, "How
did you pass your night?"

Gareth choked on a slice of cheese
and looked quickly to Elena who seemed as composed as ever.
"Wonderfully," she said with a smile. "It was the most
pleasurable night I've spent." Despite his fear that Morgan would decipher
just what she meant, he couldn't ignore the tingling warmth that spread over
his body at her words. He was glad she had found their encounter equally
pleasing.

As soon as Elena was finished eating,
he said, "Shall we spend today finding a seamstress for your gown?"

Elena quickly stood and ran down the
hall to her room, calling over her shoulder, "Yes! I'll get the cloth
now!"

"I understand there are several
reputable seamstresses on the third street to the west. Here," Morgan
said, reaching into his tunic and pulling out a small leather bag. "Make
sure you eat well. Perhaps you should buy another horse, as well, for Lady
Elena to ride. It cannot be too comfortable to cross mountains pressed together
on one horse."

Gareth refrained from telling him
just what was uncomfortable about that situation, and instead pushed the bag of
coins away. "You've given me more than enough, Da. I still have more than
half of what you gave me yesterday, thanks to Cynan."

"This is not from me, though I'd
give it to you if I had it. Lord Stanley asked me to give it to you before he
left at sunrise. He said he understood how difficult your task would be and how
it was hard to know what was right all the time."

Gareth stared at the small bag for a
moment before slowly reaching out to take it. "That was kind of
him
. He seemed such an ogre yesterday."

"He's in a difficult spot.
Richard holds his son as ransom to Stanley's loyalty, yet Henry is his kin as
well."

Gareth felt his unease about
returning as a spy to England settle on his shoulders like a familiar weight.
Was there nothing about this entire war he would not feel guilty for? Before he
had time to heap more recriminations on his head, Elena returned, positively
beaming as she handed him the heavy mass of cloth and took his arm.

"Do you know where we are
going?" she asked sweetly, and if Gareth had not been so preoccupied, he
would have marveled at her tone.

"Yes," Morgan answered for
him. "I've told him of several places you can try, not a ten minute's walk
from here."

"Excellent," she replied.
Tugging on Gareth's arm, she said, "Shall we go?"

***

"Oh what a glorious day!"
said Elena as they walked down the narrow street. Lifting her face to the warm
sun, she inhaled deeply of the salty air.

Gareth glanced over the pile of wool
in his arms and smiled. "That is truly something I never thought to hear
cross your lips."

Elena frowned. "Why not?"
she asked, although she knew the answer. Studying her escort, she saw him look
quickly away and knew to what he referred.

"You just seem like you prefer
the comforts of a castle and servants."

Elena studied the large formation of
clouds that was moving in from the west. She considered responding with a
flippant answer, but stopped herself. She was determined to test her feelings
for him and, perhaps, discover his for her. Deciding to be as honest as he
himself always was, she said, "Perhaps I've just grown to appreciate the
beauty of other surroundings."

"I can understand how it has
been difficult."

"What do you mean," Elena
asked, her hackles bristling.

The corner of Gareth's mouth twitched
and he said, "What with your own beauty eclipsing everything around you, I
can see how it would be difficult for you to notice anything else."

Elena stared at him for a few seconds
as an embarrassed flush crept up his neck and suffused his face. "Why
Gareth, I do believe you're actually flirting with me!" Before he could
stammer an excuse, she said, "You really should have tried it
before."

This caught Gareth off guard, she
could tell, and with more curiosity than embarrassment, he asked why.

Elena schooled herself not to laugh
with delight as she responded, "Well, it's a much more effective method
for getting into a lady's good graces than is telling her how rude, demanding,
and self-centered she is."

Gareth tried to look abashed, but
when Elena herself burst out laughing, he quickly joined her. They continued
laughing and teasing one another until they came to the first of the seamstress
shops. Gareth hadn't even begun to explain their business when the seamstress
curtly informed them that she was entirely too busy to take on any new work.
She quickly ushered them out of her shop without so much as a "Good
day." Rather than being put off by the woman's rudeness, Gareth and Elena
mimicked the dour old woman as they made their way to the next shop, halfway
down the street, only to discover it closed.

"We will be successful, Elena,
fear not," Gareth said grandly as he shifted the bulk of fabric in his
arms.

"Of course we will," she
responded, studying his clear grey eyes beneath the mop of dark hair. He really
is handsome, she thought. Not in the same way that Lord Edgeford was, for
Gareth's features were not as fine, his hair not as perfectly groomed, his
hands not as soft, but there was no denying that Gareth was attractive. His
squarely cut jaw and sculptured face bespoke a strength that Edgeford utterly
lacked. And his hands, while rough and deeply tanned, made her feel things
she'd never experienced as they had roamed her body. Though he was not as tall
as Edgeford, nor as burly as, say, the blond sailor from the market, he had a
confidence about him, a way of carrying himself that made him completely fill
her vision, eclipsing all others. As Elena remembered how he rescued her from
the band of ruffians, how he carried her across the swollen river, and nursed
her back to health, her thoughts returned to their earlier ruminations.

How could she get him to confess how
he felt about her? Certainly not with the shallow games she used to entice
suitors in court. She was at a loss as to how to proceed.

"I'm sure it’s around here
somewhere." Elena's thoughts were interrupted and she realized the street
had curved and narrowed. "Da said there were three shops right on this
street."

"Maybe it has closed down."

"I think not. He asked Samuel
just this morning." They had slowed to a stop and Gareth looked up and
down the row of shops. The buildings
rose
to several
stories on the left, the shop owner no doubt living above their stores. There
were a variety of crudely made signs indicating cobblers, bakers, and even a
scribner.
But not a hint to indicate a seamstress.
To
their right, Gareth and Elena were hemmed in by a tall
stone
wall
, the original town wall which had in most parts, been removed to
allow Aberstwyth to grow. There were no people on the street and despite the
fact there could be no chance of it, Gareth decided this was one place he would
not like to meet up with an enemy.

"Why don't you ask in
here," Elena suggested, gesturing to the bakery they had stopped in front
of. "Then you can buy me a sweet bun."

"You just ate."

"A bit of dry bread and a lump
of cheese is not enough to break my fast."

"Would you have preferred some
dried beef?"

Elena leveled her sourest glare at
him to no effect. "Are you going to ask where it is or not?"

"Why? We'll find it. Maybe it's
down a little farther."

"Oh Gareth! Here, give me some
money and I'll go ask."

"You're going to pay someone for
directions?"

"No, I'm going to ask for
directions and then buy something to eat."

Gareth rolled his eyes but pulled out
the small pouch of coins. "Here. Gorge yourself."

"Hmph."

Elena disappeared into the dim recess
of the bakery and Gareth leaned against the shadowed wall. He looked up and
down the narrow street, unable to quell the feeling that this was a dangerous
spot. Shifting the heavy bulk of fabric to his other arm, he decided that a
little dust would not harm the heavy wool and he carefully set the load down on
the baker's stoop, shaking his arms to return circulation to them. Wishing
Elena would
hurry,
he looked down the street once
again and froze. Coming up the cobbled lane were three of the rough soldiers he
and Elena had stumbled upon in the forest mists. What were they doing here? His
sword hand automatically grasped at his hip, but there was no hilt to meet it.
Damn! What on earth possessed him to leave this morning without his weapon?
Hoping they hadn't seen him, he reached for the handle to the bakery door,
hoping to duck inside unnoticed, but his hopes were dashed as he heard,
"Ho there! Yes you! Wait a moment."