He nodded slowly. “I was the captain of his armies.”
It was difficult to comprehend that as much as her cousin Tate had been the right arm of Edward, so Mathias had been the right hand of the hated Mortimer. So much death and destruction in a power struggle that had nearly torn the country apart, and Mathias and Tate had been in the middle of it. Tate had emerged greater than before but Mathias, by virtue of his loyalties, had emerged a fallen man. He was the fallen one. The information threatened to overwhelm her again but she fought it.
“What were your lands and titles?” she asked.
“Does it matter?”
“Not really,” she said. “I was simply curious.”
His gaze lingered on her a moment before he spoke “I was known as Baron Westbury, High Warden of the Northern Marches,” he said. “Alberbury Castle and Caus Castle on the Marches were mine as well as seven thousand retainers under my direct command. But that is over and done with now. I am, infact, a smithy these days because when my titles were taken from me, I was forced to swear that I would never again bear arms in battle in exchange for my life.”
She gazed up at him with her big brown eyes as she digested his statement. “Your brother and father, too?”
“Them, too. We had to find some way of making a living and by virtue of our profession had some proficiency at metal working, so it seemed like a logical choice.”
“So you live as peasants.”
“We do what we must in order to survive.”
She could imagine him at the head of a great army. It was very easy to picture. As she thought on him clad in armor and bearing weapons as a powerful warrior, now reduced to wearing a leather apron and wielding a hammer, she began to feel sorry for him. She couldn’t help it.
“What will you do now with your life?” she asked seriously. “It seems that Sir Kenneth did not think your exile would last forever. When your greatness is restored, what will you do?”
He lifted his eyebrows thoughtfully. As he did so, horns from the tournament field began to sound, calling the combatants to the arena for the practice bouts. Mathias fully intended to participate but before he could, he had to get Cathlina moving. He extended his elbow to her.
“Let me take you back to your family,” he said. “The tournament will be starting soon.”
Cathlina took his elbow without hesitation and he began to lead her back the way they had come. Things were calm now between them, and the feel of her hand against his arm was comforting and natural. It had been so long since Mathias had felt a woman against him, in any form, that the simple touch of her hand was enough to set his heart fluttering.
“Please answer my question” Cathlina said as he helped her navigate a muddy puddle of mashed grass. “What will you do once your honor is restored and you are a mighty knight again?”
He shrugged. “I will have my titles and property returned to me at some point,” he said as they walked. “I never believed otherwise. When the time comes, I will assume my place in the king’s stable of knights. I will swear fealty to him.”
“When do you think this will happen?”
“It is difficult to know. Time has a way of healing bitter memories. Mayhap it will be next year or mayhap in ten years. I do not know.”
“And you remain so patient?”
He thought he had been very patient, but remembering his conversation with his father whereupon he discussed winning the tournament and using the proceeds to start a new life in Scotland, perhaps he hadn’t been patient at all.
“Nay,” he shook his head ruefully. “I am not as patient as I would like to think. Something has happened recently that has made me reconsider my patient stance.”
“What has happened?”
He gave her a sidelong glance. “I met a young lady who has made me think that mayhap there is more to life than scratching out a living as a smithy,” he said. “She has opened my eyes to a great many things.”
Cathlina had no idea he was speaking of her and she began to feel a good deal of disappointment and jealousy.
“Oh,” she said, somewhat subdued. “Then… then I wish you good fortune in your future endeavors.”
He could tell that she didn’t mean it and he suspected why. In fact, her reaction gave him great hope and happiness. As they passed through the small cottages and onto the avenue that led towards the smithy shack, he put a big hand over the small fingers clutching his elbow.
“I have a question to ask you, Lady Cathlina,” he said. “May I be so bold?”
She picked up the damp hem of her skirt to prevent it from dragging in the dust and creating mud. “Of course.”
“Are you spoken for?”
