“He has been in the stocks for two days, naked to the elements. I have left his punishment to Sebastian who seems to take fiendish glee in torturing the man.”
Tate cracked a smile. “I would believe that,” he said. “Still, you shall be properly rewarded for assisting my cousins. What would you have?”
Mathias could see Cathlina standing a few feet away, her lovely face upturned to him, her eyes alight with admiration. The first thing that came to mind was a serious request. Cathlina was here and his mind was on the tournament and his veryreason for wanting to compete. She was looking at him with such respect. He wanted to see that in her face when she looked at him, always. What was taken away from him, perhaps he could gain back just a little. Tate could do that for him. He could also deny him. There was only one way to find out.
“What would you be willing to give?” he asked deliberately.
But Tate wasn’t catching on, at least not to the seriousness of the question. He shrugged his shoulders. “Money?” he asked, then looked around the stall. “You do not seem to be in any need of money. What else is there?”
“The tournament.”
Tate looked at him as if confused by the statement. “What about it?”
“Let me compete.”
Tate continued to look at him as if the words had no impact on him, as if it was the most common question in the world. But when the statement finally did sink in, he lifted his eyebrows. Then, he turned to St. Héver, who gazed back at him with his usual stony countenance. Tate looked at Kenneth, pondering Mathias’ request, before cocking his head curiously.
“What do you think, Ken?” he asked. “Shall we permit it?”
Kenneth seemed to be fighting off a grin. “I am not sure,” he said. “I am not entirely sure I want to be pummeled today.”
“Nor am I,” Tate said. “But it would make it a good deal more fun.”
“It would, indeed. It would make the pummeling worth every moment.”
Tate’s eyes lingered on Kenneth a moment longer before returning his attention to Mathias. It was evident he was weighing the request and the serious implications of it. Finally, he simply shook his head.
“As much as I would like to permit it, I do not believe it would be a good idea,” he said quietly. “You are Mathias de Reyne.Everyone knows who you are and what you represented, once. Hearing your name would drive those loyal to the king mad with want to kill you, or worse– it would drive those who had been loyal to Mortimer into thinking perhaps his cause was rising from the ashes. It is too soon for your name to be known again, Mat. I am truly sorry.”
Mathias wasn’t surprised at the response but he was disappointed. Still, he struggled not to react.
“As you say, my lord,” he said, holding up a good front that it didn’t matter. “Mayhap you are correct in your reasoning. One can never know.”
Kenneth came out of the shadows, approaching Tate. “I do not agree with your assessment,” he said, sounding very much as if he were pleading on Mathias’ behalf. “Everyone knows that Edward is soundly in control of England. Mathias is just one of the many knights who fought against the king. The country is united now and so is the kingdom. It is time to forgive and Mathias’ presence in the tournament today will reinforce that we are all united now for Edward.”
Tate looked at Kenneth, fully aware that the man was siding with one of his dearest friends. The words were coming from the heart, not the head.
“Mayhap that is true,” he said, “but there is a greater possibility that knights who fought for Edward are competing today and they will make every effort to kill Mathias. Like it or not, he still represents Mortimer.”
Kenneth wasn’t usually so verbal. He was normally the strong, silent type, but the subject matter had him running off at the mouth.
“I fought for Edward and I do not want to kill him,” he reminded Tate quietly. “I think you are giving too much credence to the hatred bred by men. Above all, Mathias is one ofthe greatest knights this country has ever seen regardless of who he sided with.”
“Ken,” Mathias put a hand on Kenneth’s shoulder, pulling the man away from Tate before the friendly discussion grew heated. “He is correct. Mayhap it is still too soon for me. He is trying to keep me out of danger as he always has.”
“You can take care of yourself,” Kenneth said frankly. “If I, Tate or Stephen had been in your position, I can say without a doubt that we would not have submitted with the grace and honor you have displayed throughout this ordeal. Mat, your greatness cannot be contained forever. At some point, you are going to have to emerge into the light again. Why not start now?”
“Because of what Tate said,” Mathias said, pointing to de Lara. “What if it is too soon for men to forgive? Mortimer and Isabella not only usurped the rightful king but they also murdered the king’s father. People have not yet forgotten about that.”
Kenneth, who was more consummately cool than any man alive, threw up his hands in a fit of emotion. “If you truly believe that, then why did you side with the bastard?”
Mathias kept his composure, although it was beginning to fracture. “Youknowwhy. He was my uncle. I had no choice. In order to please my dying mother, I promised her that I would support her sister’s husband.”
Kenneth knew that but suddenly emotions were raw again and it was as if the past year of healing had been stripped away. He felt pain and sorrow again, but instead of arguing about it, he went with his nature and shut his mouth. The past could not be undone, anyway.
With a heavy sigh, Kenneth turned away, catching sight of Cathlina as he did so. He had forgotten she was there, as they all had. The subject they had discussed in front of her was a volatile one and the expression on her face suggested she wasperhaps as deeply entrenched in the subject matter as they were. It was, in truth, a passionate and fascinating story, not one easily ignored. When Kenneth locked gazes with Cathlina, she pointed at Mathias.
“Who…?” she began, then reconsidered the question. She started again. “Mathias is not a smithy?”
