“Blackmailing?”
De Lohr nodded with some disgust. “If I provide him with four hundred men, he will not have you thrown in jail,” he said, throwing up his hands. “I have no choice. Unless I want to lose my best knight, then I must support him. I hope you liked France because you will be heading back there shortly.”
The last sentence was spoken with some irony. Gart stared at de Lohr for a long moment before breaking down into a puzzled, disgusted expression. He just shook his head and turned away, pacing over to his charger. The beast was tethered in a far stall because he was so vicious, but with Gart, the black and white steed was as tame as a kitten. The animal nickered softly as Gart approached and began stroking the big neck, giving it an affectionate slap.
“My apologies, my lord,” he finally said. “It was not my intention to put you in an awkward position.”
De Lohr sighed with regret. “What were you doing with her alone up on the battlements? Did you not stop to think that it was a compromising position to say the least?”
Gart shook his head. “We were speaking,” he reiterated. “I have not seen her in twelve years, this lovely young girl who was the sister of my best friend. Seeing her… it is as if I am seeing him again. I simply wanted to speak with her. Perhaps old memories are clouding my judgment but I do not believe so. We did nothing wrong.”
De Lohr nodded his head in resignation. “Even so, you are not the one who will ultimately suffer in all of this. It will be her.Buckland is a vicious fool with a mean streak in him. She will be lucky if he does not beat her senseless for this.”
Gart knew that but it didn’t help the raging fury he felt, starting in his toes and rising up through his big body. By the time it reached his head, his face was red and he was sweating. De Lohr caught his expression and he put his hands up as if to stop the building tide. He knew that look well.
“There is nothing you can do about it,” he told him sternly. “Your interference is what caused all of this in the first place. Had you simply walked away….”
“He struck her,” Gart cut him off. “Could you have stood by while he did that?”
David rolled his eyes. “She is the man’s wife, Gart. He can do with her as he pleases.”
“Even assault her?”
“Aye, even assault her.”
“You did not answer my question. Could you have stood by and watched him beat her?”
De Lohr eyed him, finally shaking his head after a moment. “Nay,” he admitted, looking away. “But it is different with me. I am a man of rank and you are a mere knight. What you did, in most circles, would land you in the vault for the rest of your life.”
Gart’s jaw ticked dangerously. His face was still red and sweating, never a good sign. “I will not let him take out his anger on her. I cannot.”
De Lohr threw up his hands. “You have no choice,” he said. “Gart, I will send you home this night if you cannot control yourself. You are already in enough trouble. Any more from you and I may not be able to placate Buckland. He would throw you in jail and bury the key.”
Gart didn’t reply. Anything more out of his mouth would get him in deeper trouble. De Lohr was only trying to help him and he knew it.
There was a big pile of dry hay on the other side of his charger, stacked there by the grooms. He made his way over to the hay and plopped down into it, lying back against the clean, scratchy stuff. Folding his hands over his chest, he closed his eyes.
David watched him a moment, knowing that Gart was doing what he needed to do to calm down and stay on an even keel. Without another word, he quit the stable for his own quarters in the keep, a small room that Buckland had allocated to him.
Even as de Lohr made his way through the cold, bright night towards the distant keep, he knew that this was not the end of it. He could feel it. Gart felt as if he were protecting his best friend’s sister and unable to process that the fact she was another man’s wife took precedence.
David wondered what horrors awaited them come the dawn.
*
Gart awoke tothree little faces staring at him. Startled, he sat up, hay stuck to his back and arms. It was just growing light outside, the sky in shades of pinks and blues as the sun pierced the veil of night. It was cold in the stable as the animals began to stir, hungry for their morning meal. Gart rubbed the sleep from his eyes as Romney, Orin and Brendt gazed back at him.
“What are you doing here?” he asked them, shaking the sleep from his mind.
The boys were not particularly well dressed against the cold and Romney looked particularly pale, which concerned him. They all looked a little lost. Gart also noticed something else– without all of the white powder on him, Romney’s ashen face bore a striking resemblance to his long-dead uncle. The mirror image was uncanny.
“We are sorry we tried to rob you yesterday,” Romney said somberly.
Gart rested his arms on his up-bent knees. “You did not rob me. I did not have anything for you to steal.”
Romney and Orin looked at each other, bewildered. “We tried to rob you,” Romney looked back at Gart. “Mother told us to apologize.”
Gart thought on that a moment, studying Romney. More and more, he could see Erik in the boy, even down to the expressions on the child’s face. He couldn’t help but think how thrilled Erik would have been with his three nephews.
