“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.”
“I want her back.”
“Perhaps… in time.”
Davyss’ jaw began to tick again, so hard that he almost broke his teeth. Wearily, he removed his helm and planted himself in Simon’s chair all in the same gesture. Simon watched as Davyss held his head in his hands, a gesture of desolation and defeat. What the old man wasn’t prepared for, however, was what came next.
Davyss began to sob. Softly at first, but by the time Simon realized what was happening, Davyss was sobbing deeply and painfully. Stricken, he went to the knight, wondering if attempts at comfort would be well met. He’d never seen Davyss show any measure of disappointment or sadness much less cry. He was beyond shocked; he was shattered.
“Davyss,” he whispered earnestly. “Nay, boy… don’t….”
“I want my wife,” Davyss sputtered, suddenly wiping at his face as if ashamed he had broken down. “You have no reason to hold her. I have given you everything you wanted, Uncle Simon. Why can you not give me back the only person that has ever meant anything to me? She has done nothing wrong. Why must you punish her?”
At the end of the chamber, the solar door creaked open and a small figure stood there, surveying the room with calculated eyes. There was blood on the floor and Davyss was collapsed in a chair, weeping. Lady Katharine knew the situation; although Davyss had not returned to Hollyhock before making his way to the Tower in search of his wife, she had heard through Davyss’ soldiers what had happened. Lady Devereux had been taken from Davyss’ encampment and her son was bent on murder.
So she stepped into the chamber, her fine slippers making their way through the blood smeared on the floor, her cane making a rhythmic thumping as she moved across the wood. She could see Simon standing over Davyss, who seemed truly distraught. She was nearly upon them by the time Simon heard her.
He turned sharply, only to be faced with a furious woman. Although her expression hadn’t changed much from its normal countenance, he knew just by looking in her eyes that she was livid. Davyss looked up, saw his mother, and lowered his head into his hands again.
Katharine’s hazel gaze lingered on her shattered son. Then the wise old eyes moved to Simon, who visibly stepped back from the woman. If looks could kill, then he would be a dead man.
“I told you to leave his wife alone,” she muttered. “You did not listen to me.”
Simon stood his ground. “I told you why.”
Davyss’ head shot up, his wet eyes accusing at his mother. “You knew what he was planning?” he demanded. “You knew and you did not tell me?”
