He sobered somewhat. “Nik took an arrow to the eye,” he told her honestly. “He lingers near death. Lollardly has remained with him at Lewes Castle. We did not want to move him in his condition.”
Devereux looked stricken. “Does Frances know?”
Davyss reached up, smoothing the mussed hair from her face in a gentle gesture. “Nay,” he admitted. “I have not sent her word. I will not until I know which direction Nik will take.”
Devereux shook her head, distressed on Frances’ behalf. “That is not fair to her,” she insisted softly. “She will want to know. If it were me, I would want to know.”
Davyss simply shrugged, not giving her an answer one way or the other. He seemed more intent on inspecting the ends of her hair, her fingers, kissing them one by one. Devereux watched his face, seeing exhaustion and emotion in the strong lines. It was evident that he was distracted, concerned and tense. There was much on his mind.
“We were told that Simon de Montfort is now king,” she said softly. “Is this true?”
He looked up at her, the beautiful hazel eyes lined with fatigue. After a moment of studying her sweet face, he averted his gaze.
“Aye,” he whispered. “De Montfort is now ruling England.”
She could see, through all of his strong military façade, that he was greatly distressed by the thought. For the great Davyss de Winter to have to admit defeat must have been a bitter thing for him indeed and she felt a great deal of sympathy for him.
“What happened to the king?” she asked softly.
“Captured along with Prince Edward.”
“My God,” she breathed. “Davyss, what happened? How did you escape being captured yourself?”
He looked at her, then, his hazel eyes riveted to her. He wasn’t sure he could tell her all of it but, in reflection, perhaps she should know all of it and understand just how serious the situation was. She thought she had married the perfect warrior; perfectly arrogant, perfectly skilled. But the truth was that she hadn’t; she had married a man who had grown up over the past few months. He was a better person now, a stronger man that she had helped create. He wanted her to know everything that had happened and hoped it was the right decision to tell her.
“Iwascaptured,” he told her, taking her hands in his own. “But there is something you must know, sweetling; Simon de Montfort is my godfather. He and my father were the best of friends and Simon is very close to my family.”
Devereux’s eyes widened. “Is this so?” she was truly astonished. “You… you have never said anything about this.”
“I know. It is something I did not want you to know.”
“But you are telling me now. Why?’
“Because it is important that you understand the dynamics of what has happened.”
She fell silent a moment, thinking, wondering if she was ready to hear everything. “But… but you are Henry’s champion. You fought against Simon.”
“Aye, I did,” he replied. “I fought against Simon because I made a choice long ago to support the king, not a baron’s rebellion. Simon has been trying for years to convince me to switch allegiance but I would not do it. Even when faced with the prospect of fighting against my brother.”
Devereux watched him with sad, concerned eyes. “Is Hugh all right?”
“He is fine. He is with me, in fact, outside with the horses.”
“He is here?” she repeated, digesting what he was trying to tell her. Things weren’t making a lot of sense. “If you were captured, why are you here? Did Simon release you because you are his godson?”
He sighed faintly. “As I said, Simon has been attempting to gain my fealty for years,” he said softly. “Nothing he could say or do would convince me. But something finally did.”
“What?”
“You.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Me? How did I convince you?” She suddenly put her hands on his big arms imploringly. “Surely you did not heed all of those things I said to you when we first met, about not believing in absolute rule or how I distained the knighthood because they used their power for war rather than unity.”
A smile played on his lips. “Are you saying that you were wrong?”
She pursed her lips wryly, unable to look him in the eye for the moment. “I was wrong about a great many things,” she said, her expression turning earnest as she looked at him. “But the most important thing I was wrong about was you. You are a great man, Davyss. You told me how great you were and I did not believe you. But you were right. And I was wrong about something else.”
“What?”
