Medieval Master Swordsmen(341)

“Where in the hell is she?” he boomed.

Simon glanced behind his godson, seeing the carnage and destruction left in his wake. Servants were dragging away the dead knight and others were helping the wounded. He could hear people weeping and groaning. He sighed heavily and refocused on Davyss.

“She is perfectly safe and unharmed,” he told him evenly. “She will be my honored guest for a time. I insist.”

Davyss’ jaw ticked violently. “Give her back to me or I will tear this place apart.”

“Tear it apart and you will never see her again.”

Davyss’ jaw stopped ticking and his hazel eyes widened. “Why?” he demanded, sounding more like a plea. “What in God’s name have I done that you would do this to me? I gave you what you wanted; I swore my fealty. Why would you take my wife?”

There were several armed knights in the room, men that had rushed in to protect de Montfort from Davyss’ rage. But Simon sent those men away with the flick of his wrist, unafraid of Davyss’ wrath. He knew his godson was hot headed and rash, but he wasn’t foolish. He knew that Lespada would not end his life.

“Send your men away, Davyss,” Simon said quietly. “I will speak only with you.”

Davyss turned to the heavily armed men behind them, sending them off with a nod of his head. They followed the path they had taken when they had entered, leaving the room in disarray and chaos. When the last of the injured had been removed and Hugh quietly shut the door, Davyss turned to Simon.

“You had no reason to take her,” he told him, sounding more hurt than angry. “I want her back. I need her back.”

Simon lifted his hand. “Davyss, Davyss,” he murmured, sing-song. “Sit down before you fall down.”

“I will not. I want my wife back immediately.”

Simon sighed heavily, looking up at him. After a moment, he rose wearily and Davyss took a step back; Simon was wily and cunning. He didn’t trust that the old man wouldn’t have a dagger wedged in his palm somehow. Simon saw Davyss back away and he smiled thinly.

“Davyss,” he paused, gazing into the younger man’s face. “I did not get where I am in life by being a fool. You know this.”

Davyss’ jaw was ticking again. “Tell me why you took her,” he asked hoarsely. “Just tell me why.”

Simon lifted an eyebrow. “You know why.”

“If I did, I would not be asking. Tell me.”

“Because people live longer when they do not completely trust their friends and family,” Simon tapped his right temple. “I know you, Davyss; lest you forget how well I know you. I know that you have always disagreed with my politics. The only reason you swore fealty to me was to ensure your wife and family’s safety. But I know, in your heart, that you do not truly support me. Yet, if I hold your wife, it is insurance against you doing anything, shall we say, foolish.”

Davyss’ cheeks took on a ruddy glow. “You doubt my word of honor?” he hissed. “I am a man of my word; I always have been. If you do not trust me, then you should not have forced me to swear fealty.”

Simon shrugged as if to concede the point. “Yet I did, you did, and now you wonder why I have my doubts. I love you, Davyss, but it is better if I do not trust you completely. Surely you understand that.”

Davyss began to wonder if Simon knew of his meetings with his men, discussing plans to free Prince Edward from captivity. But there is no way the man could know because Davyss knew his men; he knew they would never betray him, not even Hugh. So he could only presume that Simon was going forward on caution and suspicion only. He hated to lie to the man’s face but, feeling betrayed himself, he didn’t feel an over amount of guilt.

Davyss sighed heavily, studying Simon’s strong, wrinkled face. “I swore fealty to you and I shall honor that commitment,” he said. “There is no reason to hold my wife hostage to ensure my good behavior. She is… not well. I must have her back.”

Simon’s eyebrows lifted. “Not well? What do you mean?”

Davyss’ jaw resumed its nervous tick. “She recently miscarried our child. She has not recovered from that. I want her back, Uncle Simon. Please do this for me.”

It was the first time Davyss had lowered his guard. He was no longer the angry warrior but the begging husband. Simon could see the young man, the young boy, the child he had once known in just those few words. He began to feel some remorse but he fought it.

“I am sorry for you, my son,” he said softly, sincerely. “I promise you that she is in no danger. She is well cared for and looked after.”