Medieval Master Swordsmen(397)
Garren glanced over at her; it was sunset, on the seventh day since he had left Framlingham. He’d left Fergus five days ago with the intention of riding to William Marshal to inform him of the change in his mission. But a day into that journey, he had turned back for the abbey; he wasn’t so sure the Marshal would allow him to return for Derica. The man was driven and forceful, and Garren was his vassal. Whatever the Marshal ordered, he was obliged to follow, and he could not risk an order that took him far away from Yaxley and far away from Derica. So he had decided to return to the abbey and wait for Fergus to bring her. He wasn’t sure how long that would take, but after four days of waiting, he was beginning to show distinct signs of impatience. All he wanted to do was hold a woman he had never held before.
“I would say the nuns have been quite accommodating to have me here,” he said. “They’ve not tried to remove me once.”
Gabrielle grunted. “That is because you sit with me and cause no problems. But they still force you to sleep outside at night.”
“It is not been bad.”
Gabrielle fixed a couple of stitches, running her fingers over her work as if she was playing a harp. “Tell me again of this castle where you plan to take her, Garren. The place where kings used to live.”
He settled back in the old chair, crossing his massive arms. He was without his armor this day, as the nuns refused to let him wear it, or bring any weapons, deep inside the abbey. All of his protection was by the front door. He felt a bit naked without it, but he also felt very free.
It is called Cilgarren,” he tilted his head back, closing his eyes wearily. “As I told you, it was built for the princes of Dyfed. But the wife of the first prince died and now the place is supposedly haunted. Fergus tells me that it has been vacant for years.”
“Is it big?”
“I am told it is massive.”
“Cilgarren,” Gabrielle repeated softly. “So you intend to take her there?”
“I do,” he muttered. “Do you know that I have never even kissed her?”
“Who?
“Derica.”
No matter how Gabrielle had tried, for days, to speak of other things, the conversation always came back to the lady.
“’Tis well and good that you haven’t,” she chided gently. “You are not married to her yet.”
“But we are betrothed.”
“Of no matter. You have no rights to her until you are properly wed.”
Garren opened his eyes and stood up. His pacing started anew. “My entire life, I have lived by the sword and the code of Chivalry. I have been in the service of the most powerful man in England and have done some things during that service that I am perhaps not so proud of. But I have always been confident in my decisions. I can truthfully say there is nothing I look back upon that I regret, knowing that I made the right choice at that point in time.” He stopped pacing and looked at his sightless sister. “But I cannot know for sure that what I do now is the right thing. To love a woman so much, to be consumed with her to the point of madness. I cannot know for certain that the choices I have made over the past several days have been the right ones, with surely more choices to come. How do I know that in a month or a year she will not come to hate me for taking her away from her family and forcing her to marry me?”
“You cannot know,” Gabrielle said quietly. “Be good to her, treat her well, and love her. That is all you can do.”
Garren was having a tough bout with indecision at the moment. His anxiety was getting the better of him. He sat down again, next to his sister, and patted her hand.
“I am sure that I am driving you mad with my incessant whimpering,” he said. “I thank you for your patience and advice.”
Gabrielle smiled. “I envy you. You have such a wonderful future ahead of you, with happiness and children, married to a woman that you love. How many people in this world are fortunate enough to experience that?”
“I feel extremely humbled,” he admitted. “Never did I imagine my life would take the turn it is apparently taking and my happiness would be complete but for one thing.”
“What?”
“I still must face the Marshal with what I have done.”
Gabrielle didn’t say anything for the moment. “Perhaps you should not,” she murmured. “Perhaps you should simply take Derica to Wales and stay there for the rest of your lives.”
Garren smiled ironically. “As much as I would like to, I cannot. I am a knight and I am sworn to serve my king above all. I must confess all to the Marshal and pray I have not caused over-much damage to Richard’s cause. There are other agents, of course, other men who can infiltrate and uncover information, but the Marshal had high hopes for my mission. I am, after all, the best he has.”