Medieval Master Swordsmen(81)

But Rhys did nothing more than take a long drink of ale and sit down at the long dining table, his back to Dustin. Rod sat down beside him, wanting to be near his brother, wanting to help him somehow. He knew Lady Dustin was trying to snap some sense into him. They’d all tried at one time or another. But Dustin wasn’t finished; she moved up behind Rhys from the opposite side of the table, gazing into the back of his helmed head.

“If I were you, I would think about what I was doing to myself,” she said in a low voice. “You are not helping anyone by behaving this way. You’re only making a bad situation worse. We know you are guilt ridden and we know you are heartbroken. We’re all heartbroken, Rhys. But going the way you are, Lady Elizabeau isn’t going to even recognize you. Is that what you want? To be a stranger to her?”

The pitcher suddenly went sailing, crashing into the wall above the hearth and spraying ale all over the men standing near the flames. Dustin shrieked with fright but Rhys was already on his feet, halfway across the floor and heading to the door. Christopher stood between his wife and the knight, watching him go and feeling a good deal of sorrow for the big man. When Rhys disappeared through the door that led to the bailey, Christopher cast his wife a reproachful gaze before casually following.

Rhys had gone to the stables. It wasn’t difficult to track his footprints in the snow. Christopher found him just inside the door, adjusting the blanket on his charger. He seemed to be very busy at it, but during this time, Rhys seemed to be very busy at everything he did. He was constantly moving as if fearful that if he stopped, the emotions he was trying so hard to stay in control of would finally catch up and swamp him. Christopher came up behind him, watching him fidget with a strap.

“I will apologize for my wife,” he said in a quiet voice. “She is a sassy wench in the best of times and pregnancy makes it worse. I am sorry if she overstepped herself.”

Rhys didn’t acknowledge him for a moment. Then, his movements slowed to the point of stopping altogether. In a very rare display of relaxation, perhaps surrender, he leaned heavily on the horse.

“She reminds me of her,” he muttered.

“Who?”

“Elizabeau,” Rhys turned to look at him, the brilliant blue eyes dull. “Lady Dustin reminds me of Elizabeau. Their personalities are almost identical.”

Christopher smiled weakly. “Then God help us all,” he sobered, eyeing Rhys for a long moment. “I remember seeing an example of that at Hyde House. Do you recall? When I was trying so desperately to remove the two of you from London and she put up such a battle? I would have liked to have spanked her for that show of resistance but… well, I folded like an idiot. I was glad that she was your problem and not mine.”

Rhys was staring at the horse’s back. A smile spread across his lips as he remembered the memory de Lohr had just painted. “There were times I wished she was someone else’s problem, too. She was insolent, sassy, disagreeable and belligerent. And that was just the first day. But after that….”

He trailed off, shaking his head as his smile faded. Christopher could feel the mood sinking again.

“Rhys,” he said in a low voice. “I know that Dustin does not understand what is in a man’s heart at times. She sees it from a woman’s point of view. She does not understand how something like this can destroy a man far more than weapons or warfare ever could. God knows, I have no idea how I would react if something happened to my wife. I cannot say that I would not crumble. But I am asking you, not only as your liege, but as your friend, to hold yourself together. We need your strength if we are going to retrieve the lady from her prison.”

Rhys chewed his lip in thought a moment before turning to Christopher. “Do you know what is making me the most miserable?” he said, his guard failing completely. “The fact that even when we retrieve her, it is only to hand her over to another man. I do not even get the pleasure of a reunion  . I will save her from one prison only to turn her over to another.”

Christopher stared at him, trying not to show how much sympathy he had for the situation. “You have been a full-fledged knight since you were seventeen years old,” he rumbled. “You know the knightly code of honor and duty better than anyone. You knew when you took this mission that the lady was to remain a task and nothing more. You broke with that code and brought about your own misery. I hate to be cruel, Rhys, but you know it’s true. There is nothing any of us can do about it.”

“Perhaps I can help,” came a voice from the barn entry.