CHAPTER TEN
“Did the earl see you?” Justus wanted to know. “God’s Bones, the man is not a fool. He will know you on sight, Mathias. You cannot deceive him.”
Back behind the smithy stall in a small corral used for horses waiting to be shod, Mathias held fast to the big bay stallion he had just confiscated from de Lara’s encampment. The horse was excitable and beautiful, and as he held the beast still while Sebastian adjusted the saddle, he wondered what had become of his own lovely charger he had surrendered along with his weapons and armor. The horse had been with him for seven years, a beautiful animal the color of silver, and he knew the horse had been coveted by many. He was sure the animal was part of some nobleman’s collection, possibly even the king’s collection, and was very well treated. Still, he missed the horse.
“I spoke with de Lara at length this morning,” Mathias replied. “You know this. You saw him when he was here.”
“I saw him,” Justus said impatiently. “Sebastian and I purposely hid away when he came. We knew he had much to say to you.”
“He had much to say to us all,” Mathias said, somewhat quietly. “I told you that he apologized again for what occurred. It was all things we have heard before, words of anguish and hope. He still feels very guilty for what happened.”
“He should not,” Sebastian said as he swung the saddle onto the charger’s back. “We made our choice and accepted the consequences.”
Mathias struggled with the charger that didn’t want to stand still. “Even so, the man has a conscience.”
“Conscience or no, he will arrest us if he discovers what you’ve done,” Justus said, agitated. “I did not raise you to be foolish, Mathias.”
Mathias was helping his brother with the leather straps that secured the saddle to the horse’s body.
“Nay, you did not,” he said, grunting when the twitching horse bumped into him. “But you did raise me to be bold, brave, and determined, and that is exactly what I shall be.”
Justus knew there was no discouraging him. Mathias was stubborn in every sense of the word. It was a character flaw or strength depending on the situation, so the old man sighed heavily and stood back as his sons prepared the enormous charger with pieces of tack they’d accumulated over the past year. The equipment wasn’t nearly as elaborate as some of the knights in the competition, but it was adequate. It would have to do.
Mathias was going to go through with this charade regardless of what Justus said. Therefore, rather than fight his son, he stepped in to assist. The three of them had soared to the top of the power echelon together and had fallen back down again together, and if Mathias was to be arrested for doing something he very much wanted to do, then Justus would be by his side for that also. As always, the de Reynes would serve together, following a tradition set forth by Justus’ great-great-grandfather, Creed de Reyne. He, too, served with his brothers. The de Reynes were a loyal bunch.
As Justus moved to the back of the horse to fuss with the plain yellow banner on his haunches, Sebastian moved up to the bridle where his brother was.
“Where did you get that favor,” he asked, pointing to the balled-up shawl on the pommel of the saddle.
Mathias glanced at it. “From a certain young lady.”
“Lady Cathlina?”
“Aye.”
“The same lady you warned me against because she is, in fact, a de Lara?”
“The same.”
Sebastian was the last one to judge his brother, but even he shook his head after a moment. “From a man who sees reason in all things, I am impressed with your willingness to be reckless. I sincerely hope she is worth it.”
Mathias looked at his brother, depth of sincerity in his expression. “I would not be doing this if she was not. She is worth all this and more.”
Sebastian believed him.
*
There were twenty-seven knights competing in the Brampton tournament, and most of those were from the north. There were a few that made a profession out of tournaments rather than battles, and those men were gaily bedecked with banners and followed by countless women begging for a lock of hair or a glimpse of their smile.
One knight in particular had big plumage feathers sticking up out of helm, quite full of himself until St. Héver cut the plumes in half with his sword. Kenneth said it was an accident but most knew it wasn’t. He had been annoyed by the prideful knight’s boasting just as the other competitors had been. When Kenneth had hacked off the plumes, the knights within eyeshot had roared with laughter.
Including Tate. It had been a bit of comic relief in the midst of serious tournament preparation. He and Kenneth had been preparing their chargers for the coming bouts. Kenneth had drawn the second bout against a big bald knight named Quinton de Gare while Tate wasn’t going until the seventh round against a knight named Chanson de Lovern. After the mutilated plumage incident, they returned to their equipment as Kenneth prepared to shortly compete.
“What do we know of de Gare?” Tate asked him as he fixed a leather strap that had broken. “The name sounds familiar but I cannot place him.”
Kenneth grunted. “You are not going to like the answer.”
Tate’s head came up. “Why not?”
Kenneth glanced at him as he finished adjusting his stirrup. “He was sworn to Hugh Despenser the Younger,” he said. “I remember seeing him years ago when the Despensers wrought their havoc. Do you not recall him as a younger man? He had hair then.”
Tate thought hard. “I recall a Jasper de Gare.”
“His brother.”
Tate sighed sharply and returned to what he had been doing. “I remember them now,” he said. “Quinton is a big man but, if I recall correctly, not a very good warrior. Jasper was the warrior.”
“You would be right.”
They continued to prepare their equipment in silence for a few moments until Tate spoke again.
“My opponent,” he said, “what is his name? De Lovern? I believe that is Banbury’s heir.”
Kenneth was extremely careful in how he reacted or what he said. He was well aware that de Lovern was Mathias. He hadn’t seen the man since the incident with Cathlina de Lara that morning but an hour later, his big bay charger had been missing and was now the mount of an unknown knight named de Lovern, who happened to be Tate’s first round opponent. The way the man moved, his skill with a horse, and the way he handled his weaponry made it very, very clear to Kenneth that Mathias had taken his advice. He had entered himself in the tournament and, by a stroke of luck, drew Tate as his first opponent. Oh, the irony, Kenneth thought.
“I have not heard of him before,” Kenneth said casually.
“He is riding a charger that looks very much like the one you purchased in York last month.”
“Is he? I had not noticed.”
Tate finished with the strap he had been repairing. “Did you check to see if your horse is missing?” he asked. “Mayhap de Lovern stole it.”
“If he has, I will run him through.”
“I will run him through for you. Since he will be competing against me, I will have more of an opportunity than you will.”
“I would not worry about it. Simply have a clean round and do not get hurt. It would forever scar your wife and children if you did.”
“Do not worry about me,” Tate said, looking over his horse to make sure he was prepared. “By the way, where is Mathias?”
Kenneth was still fussing with the stirrup, or at least pretending to. “I have not seen him since this morning.”
It wasn’t a lie. Tate continued to check his saddle. “I thought he might at least come to watch.”
Kenneth looked at him, then. “Would you?” he asked. “If all of this had once been yours and now you were denied what came naturally to you, knowing you were the best of the best, would you come to watch?”
Tate finished checking his saddle and looked at Kenneth. “Nay,” he said flatly. “I would come to compete.”
Kenneth didn’t know how to respond. He held Tate’s gaze steady before shrugging his shoulders and turning back to his stirrup. Tate eyed his very blond, very big friend a moment before moving to walk past him.
“If you happen to see de Lovern,” he said quietly, “tell him I plan to knock him on his arse and take your horse.”
Kenneth watched the man walk away. A faint smile creased his normally emotionless lips. It was certainly going to be an interesting bout, and one he was looking forward to.
He knew Tate was, too.
*
Kenneth’s round against de Gare had been three very violent passes, resulting in two shattered joust poles for each of the competitors, but in the end Kenneth emerged the victor. As he made his victory pass in front of the roaring crowd, he was obliged to stop in front of Roxane and accept her blessing. He did so, but he didn’t take her hand and kiss it as most knights would have. He simply gave her a salute and rushed off.
Roxane was fairly upset that he hadn’t kissed her hand but she was soon distracted from her sorrow by a very young knight in the fifth round. He was tall and slender, with red hair, and he was very solicitous with Roxane before his bout. Either he hadn’t noticed St. Héver or he was too arrogant to care, because soon enough Roxane was enamored with the brash young knight who took to blowing her kisses after he won his bout against a fat knight who lost his balance and fell off after the first pass.
The sixth bout came and went without fanfare, as the knight from Gloucester unseated a knight from Ashbourne in the first pass. It was uneventful and the crowd grew restless until they realized that the Earl of Carlisle was up next against an unknown knight named de Lovern. Pages ran out to rake the field, filling in any holes, and the guides were checked to ensure they were steady. After the field marshals checked everything, the flags of Carlisle and de Lovern were placed on the board and the crowd began to roar.
Mathias was the first to enter the field. The wild charger had settled down and was a truly beautiful and somewhat tame beast as he cantered across the field and took his position at the far end of the guide. Tate entered after him aboard his black and white steed and the crowd went mad, cheering excitedly for their earl. Mathias settled in, adjusting his borrowed gloves as Sebastian, his red hair tucked up under a skull cap, aided his brother with his lance.
“De Lara likes to aim for the neck,” Sebastian said quietly as he handed his brother the crow’s foot pole. “He will start out aiming for your chest but bring the pole up at the last minute.”
Mathias nodded patiently. “I know,” he said. “I have competed against the man many times.”
“Watch out for his tactics.”
“I intend to.”
“And do not lose St. Héver’s horse. He will murder you.”
Beneath his lowered visor, Mathias wriggled his eyebrows in agreement. That was an understatement.
The field marshals made the call for ready and Sebastian scattered as Mathias moved his horse into position. The pole went down, into the cradle position as it was called, and the marshals dropped their flags. The game was on.
Mathias kept his eye on Tate as their steeds thundered toward each other. He had blocked out the crowd and everything else, focused on his opponent. More thunder and the distance closed swiftly. Tate brought the tip of his pole up, right at Mathias’ neck, but Mathias was fast. He shifted in the seat so the pole brushed past him, while at the same time, he aimed for de Lara’s big head. Rather than spear the man head-on, he turned it so the broadside of it hit de Lara right in the forehead.
The earl teetered but he didn’t go down. He did, however, drop his pole, which was considered a victory for Mathias. The crowd, seeing that perhaps this unknown de Lovern was indeed as worthy contender, cheered the man for his small victory. Mathias, without a scratch, headed back to the starting point. Sebastian was there to meet him.
“He will be out for blood now,” Sebastian said, a grin on his face. “You made a brilliant move.”
Mathias handed the joust pole to his brother while he flipped up his visor and re-adjusted his gloves. “He is going to aim for my head the next time. I will need to be vigilant or he will push me right off the horse.”
Sebastian was still grinning. “How does it feel?”
Mathias looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“The tournament,” he said, his voice softening. “How does it feel to be back?”
The corner of Mathias’ mouth twitched. “Like I never left,” he said. “Where is Father?”
Sebastian looked over his shoulder towards the crowd. “He is here, watching. He is terrified for you.”
Mathias snorted. “Mayhap, but at this moment he is as excited as we are, I promise you.”
Sebastian chuckled, handing the joust pole back to his brother. As the field marshals called for the opponents to take position, Mathias slapped his visor down and spurred the charger to the start position. The flags were dropped and the destriers lurched forward.
Sebastian had been correct. Tate aimed for Mathias’ head but it didn’t come until the last second. Mathias had to move out of the way quickly to avoid being unseated and in doing so, ended up hitting Tate squarely in the chest. The wooden support of the joust pole splintered, sending shards flying into Tate. It wasn’t until the earl reined his charger to a halt at the end of the guide that he realized two big shards had punctured him; one in the hip and one in the shoulder. They were embedded fairly deep, deeply enough so that he had to be helped from his charger.
As Mathias and the crowd await the verdict on whether or not Tate could continue, it took both the physic and Lady de Lara to convince Tate to forfeit the match. The projectile embedded in his hip was causing a great deal of bleeding and Lady de Lara was very distressed about it. Reluctantly, the Earl of Carlisle conceded his match to Chanson de Lovern.
The crowd, sensing that perhaps they had a people’s champion in de Lovern, began to cheer him madly as he made his way off the field. But before Mathias left completely, he turned towards the lists where Cathlina was leaning on the rail.
Cathlina saw him coming. She’d been at the rail since the bout had started, her heart in her throat at the two violent passes that Tate and Mathias had made against each other. She was only now starting to breathe easy, easier still when she saw Mathias heading in her direction. In fact, her heart began to beat madly and her palms began to sweat, so very thrilled that he was about to acknowledge her. But that was before her father came to stand next to her, scrutinizing the man who had forced his cousin to withdraw. Her excitement took a pause.
“Who is that knight?” he demanded.
Cathlina looked at her father. “His name is Chanson de Lovern.”
Saer scowled. “I know his name,” he said. “What I want to know is who he is. Where does he come from? And why did he ask you for your favor?”
Cathlina patted her father patiently on the shoulder. “Father, do not work yourself into a fit,” she said. “He was very polite to me. He seems to be rather skilled, don’t you think?”
Saer pursed his lips irritably. “Either he is very skilled or suffers the blessing of blind luck to oust Tate de Lara from the first round,” he grumbled, turning away from the rail. “I will go and see how my cousin fares.”
Cathlina continued to pat him on the shoulder even as he walked away. Frankly, she was thrilled he was leaving. “Make sure he is well tended, Papa,” she called after him. “Stay with him if you must.”
Saer acknowledged her with a wave, muttering something more to his wife as he left the stands. Meanwhile, Cathlina had returned her attention to Mathias, who had resumed his quick pace towards her. He had paused when he saw Saer, waiting to see which direction the man would take. As his charger, sweaty and foaming, bumped up against the railing, he flipped up his visor.
“How was that?” he asked. “Did you enjoy it?”
Cathlina beamed. “You are very skilled. Most impressive.”
His dark brows lifted. “It was unfortunate the lance splintered,” he said. “I was looking forward to confiscating de Lara’s horse.”
Cathlina giggled. “Mayhap next time.”
He shrugged. “Mayhap,” he said, looking around. “Have you eaten yet?”
Cathlina shook her head. “Not yet. I have been busy watching men joust.”
He looked at her, then. “Would you be willing to sneak away from your father yet again and join me for a meal?”
Cathlina knew her mother and sisters were behind her, but they were mostly occupied watching Tate and Toby’s children because Lady de Lara was with her injured husband.
“My father has gone to see how Cousin Tate fares,” she said quietly. “I believe I could steal a few moments away from my mother. Where shall I meet you?”
“At the entrance to the lists.”
“I shall be there.”
Winking at her, Mathias shut his visor and cantered back across the field, exiting it to the north. Cathlina returned to her seat, watching her sisters play with the twins and the two year old baby girl, Sophie. Abechail seemed particularly enthralled by the baby, which was good to see. Abechail was in bed so much of the time that it was good to see her excited about something.
Cathlina sat next to her mother a nominal amount of time before making her move to leave. She didn’t want to seem suspicious, as if she was running off with a clandestine purpose, so she sat tight, making small talk, until very casually, she yawned.
“Mam, I must find the privy,” she said, rising to her feet. “I want to be back before Dunstan’s round.”
Rosalund had the baby in her arms. “Take Abbie with you.”
Cathlina struggled not to throw a tantrum. “Abbie does not need to go,” she said, looking to her little sister on the floor. “Do you, Abbie?”
Abechail couldn’t figure out why her sister was giving her such a strange, nearly intimidating, expression. She looked between her mother and sister. “Aye, I will go,” she said, struggling to her feet. “I need to use the privy also.”
Cathlina rolled her eyes and looked and looked at her mother. “I do not want to take her,” she said flatly. “The last time I was left in charge of Abbie, something terrible happened and I could not bear to go through that again. Please do not make me take her. I am afraid.”
Rosalund understood somewhat but she thought that Cathlina was being ridiculous. “Do not be so silly,” she scolded. “Take your sister with you and return shortly.”
Cathlina shook her head. She was already scooting down the stairs. “I will not,” she declared. “I will go alone and be back shortly. If Abbie needs to go, then Roxane can take her. I do not want to!”
With that, she was gone before her mother could argue with her. She knew that she would be in for a scolding when she returned but she didn’t care. She wanted to see Mathias and couldn’t do it with her baby sister hanging about. There was romance in the air, her very first beau, and she was giddy and reckless.
Fortunately, she didn’t have far to go. As soon as she bolted out of the entrance, an enormous hand reached out to grab her. She gasped with fright until she saw who it was. Deep green eyes twinkled back at her.
“What took you so long?” he asked. “I nearly died of anticipation.”
Cathlina giggled. “You look healthy enough,” she said. “Besides, I had to escape my mother. I cannot be too long or she will start to worry.”
“Ah,” he said, taking her hand and tucking it into the crook of his elbow. “Since we have so little time, what would you like to eat? Something sweet and fattening?”
Cathlina relished the feel of him. His enormous body was warm against her, his fingers clutching hers as they headed down the avenue. She was walking on clouds, thrilled and happy to be with him. “You choose.”
“Do you trust me to?”
“I do.”
He grinned as he led her down the avenue, feeling as prideful as a peacock with her on his arm. She was radiant and beautiful, and he felt extremely fortunate. The streets were crowded with people who had come to town to see the tournament and they dodged groups of women and children as they headed to the food vendors. Already, the smells of roasted meat and baking breads assaulted their nostrils as they entered the area with vendors shouting the culinary virtues of their dishes.
There was a man selling mutton in a honey and cinnamon sauce, all served up on great slabs of toasted brown bread. Mathias purchased a slab for Cathlina and a slab for himself, taking her to the steps of a nearby cottage where they sat down on the stone steps and delved into their meal. Cathlina picked at the meal while Mathias shoveled, but all the while, their focus was on each other.
“Are you staying in town tonight?” he asked her as he slurped up the sauce.
She nodded, nibbling on the big hunk of bread. “We brought our travel bedding and our shelters,” she said. “We set them up on the edge of town next to Cousin Tate’s encampment.”
He nodded as he shoved a big bite in his mouth. “Then this is quite an adventure for you.”
She grinned as she licked her fingers. “It is,” she agreed. “We rarely travel from Kirklinton, mostly because Mother does not like to travel. Oh, she pretends that it is father’s issue and that he does not like his children exposed to the wicked world, but we know it is Mother. She tells my father that there are wicked people about. Why, when Abechail was nearly abducted, it only reinforced her stance. She was none too excited about us coming to town for the tournament, but Father had promised Abbie so he could not very well refuse her.”
Mathias listened to her, the sweet lilt of her voice, and knew he could listen to her speak forever. “Your little sister,” he ventured. “If it is not too bold to ask, what is her affliction? You said she was unwell.”
Cathlina sobered as she picked at her bread. “It started a little over a year ago,” she said. “Abbie was perfectly healthy and then she developed a cough she could not get rid of. She began coughing up blood and had pain in her chest. She lost a good deal of weight and her skin turned such an odd gray color. The physics have all told us that there is something wrong with her lungs. They think it is a cancer of some kind and there is nothing they can do for her. She spends days and weeks in bed taking potions that the physics make for her, but every day she seems to weaken more and more.”
Mathias had stopped chewing, listening to her tragic story. “I am truly sorry for you,” he said quietly. “I wish there was some way to help her.”
Cathlina smiled sadly. “As do I,” she said. “We try to pretend that nothing is wrong. We go on with our days and treat her as we have always treated her because she does not want to feel different.”
“Does she know she is very ill?”
Cathlina nodded. “She knows,” she said softly. “She uses it to her advantage. She has coerced my father into buying her a white pony, a goat, and three puppies. She has an entire menagerie of pets.”
She was giggling as she said it, perhaps trying to deflect her own horrific sadness, and he grinned because she was. It was evident that she was greatly distressed by it but didn’t want to give into the anguish, not just yet. That would come soon enough. Mathias shoved the remainder of the meal into his mouth and chewed.
“She is a very fortunate lass to have you as her sister,” he said, gazing at her with some admiration. “I saw you try to fight off her abductor. You are exceptionally brave.”
Cathlina shrugged modestly. “I was terrified out of my mind,” she admitted. “I did not realize what I was doing. All I knew was that I could not let the man take her.”
“It was your bravery that saved her.”
She grinned, embarrassed, not knowing what to say to him. She wasn’t used to having praise heaped upon her, but he did it quite freely and she wasn’t hard pressed to admit she liked it. It made her feel very special. She put a bite of mutton in her mouth and chewed daintily.
“Do you know who you compete against in the next round?” she asked.
He shook his head, brushing off his hands on his boots. “Nay,” he replied. “They will not draw lots until this round is complete.”
“Have you competed in many tournaments?”
“Many, indeed.”
“Here you are!” came an unfamiliar voice into the conversation. “I have been looking everywhere for you.”
Mathias and Cathlina turned to see Sebastian walking up on them. The man’s skull cap was removed and his long, curly red hair flowed freely to his shoulders, dusting the top of the frayed and stained peasant’s tunic he was wearing. Mathias stood up as he brother approached.
“Sebastian,” he greeted, indicating Cathlina. “You remember Lady Cathlina.”
Sebastian looked down at the perfectly beautiful woman seated on the stone steps with the trencher on her lap. He nodded his head in her direction. “Of course I do,” he said. “She makes wonderful cakes.”
Cathlina grinned as she set the trencher aside, her sweet face upturned. “I am glad you enjoyed them,” she said. “It was the least I could do for your assistance.”
Sebastian could see, in that instant, what had his brother so smitten. He hadn’t had much opportunity to speak with her since their introduction and he could see that she was indeed a lovely and well-spoken young woman. If she had Mathias’ attention, then she must be something special, indeed.
“It was our pleasure,” he said as a twinkle came to his green eyes. “In fact, I still have the brute in stocks back behind the stall. I can give you a stick and you can beat him if you wish.”
Cathlina giggled. “As righteous as that sounds, I am afraid I must decline. I will leave the beatings to you.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am sure.”
Sebastian was grinning because she was. She had a charming little manner about her. His gaze lingered on her a moment longer before turning his attention to his brother.
“The pole you smashed on de Lara is not repairable,” he told him. “Unless I can find another length of wood, we will have to use the remaining two and hope those do not shatter.”
Mathias scratched his forehead in resignation. “I suppose that was to be expected,” he said. “How is de Lara?”
Sebastian shrugged. “St. Héver said he is well enough,” he replied. “The only reason he forfeited was because his wife was so upset. He plans to watch the rest of the tournament from the lists.”
“Then I am pleased he is not overly injured,” Mathias replied. “I suppose I should visit him. I will tell him I heard of his injury and wanted to see how he fared.”
Sebastian shook his head. “He knows, Mat,” he said, lowering his voice. “Ken said that Tate knew you were posing as de Lovern. If you go and see the man, do not insult his intelligence.”
Mathias merely lifted an eyebrow in response, not particularly surprised that de Lara spotted him in disguise. As he was debating how to handle the situation, he heard a growl behind him.
“You dark bastard… de Reyne, I knew it was you.”
Mathias and Sebastian turned to see the big bald knight that St. Héver had defeated in his first round of the joust standing several feet away. Quinton de Gare had two other men with him, swarthy warriors that were as dark as they were dirty, and they were all quite focused on Mathias and his brother.
Mathias recognized Quinton. The man had served Mortimer in the ranks of lesser knights, a fairly dumb and unskilled but extremely strong warrior. There had been times when Mathias had been forced to render discipline on the man for various infractions, which wasn’t unusual with the lesser fighters in a large army, but Mathias never thought there had been any bad blood between them. Honorable men took their punishment or chastising honorably. At least, that was the expectation.
But Quinton’s tone and words didn’t suggest honor or respect. Instinctively, Mathias moved away from Cathlina, who was still sitting on the steps with her half-eaten meal in her hands. He didn’t want any hostilities aimed at her.
“De Gare,” he said evenly. “I saw that you were competing in the tournament.”
Quinton snorted rudely. “Competed and lost,” he said, agitated. “What are you doing here? I heard the king locked you up in the Tower.”
“He did not,” Mathias said. He didn’t want to engage the man in any level of conversation so he moved to the point. “Is there something I can do for you?”
De Gare grunted, looking between him and Sebastian. His focus lingered on Mathias’ brother. “Sebastian the Red,” he muttered. “I had heard you were dead.”
Sebastian was tensed, ready for a fight. That was simply the way his mind worked. “Not yet,” he replied.
De Gare’s attention lingered on the brothers. There was something raw and condescending in his expression, like a man who doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. Everything he was thinking was written on his face or preparing to lash out on his tongue.
“You were so high and mighty,” he rumbled. “The both of you thought you ruled England along with Mortimer. Now you’re in the gutters like the rest of us.”
Mathias didn’t respond. He simply turned away, heading for Cathlina so he could escort her away. Sebastian stood there and postured angrily, his fists working, but he too was smart enough to turn away from whatever de Gare was attempting to stir up. Unfortunately, de Gare chose to follow them as they walked away.
“You are scum, de Reyne,” he said, listening to his friends titter. “You thought you were so much better than I was. But you are scum, do you hear?”
Mathias had Cathlina by the elbow, quietly leading her away while she looked up at him with frightened eyes. She didn’t like the big, scary beast of a knight following them but it occurred to her who he was. She had seen St. Héver soundly beat him in the joust. She also saw that he had a pitcher in one hand, presumably alcohol of some kind. He was well on his way to being quite drunk.
“Have you nothing to say to me, de Reyne?” de Gare continued to follow. “You know that everything I have said is true. You are scum and you live in the gutters like the lowliest rubbish. Does your woman know what trash you are?”
Sebastian grunted, fairly aching to throw a punch, but Mathias called him off with a shake of the head. He didn’t want any fighting near Cathlina.
“Dirty, filthy, rotten whoreskin,” de Gare snarled. “You are a pig, de Reyne. Where is your mighty army now? Where are your weapons? You live like an animal!”
Cathlina, in between Mathias and Sebastian, turned to the red-headed brother. “I will take that stick, now,” she said softly.
Sebastian cocked an eyebrow at her. He wasn’t sure if she was serious or not. As he shook his head faintly, Cathlina’s dark eyes bore into him.
“A stick, Sebastian,” she said again. “You will give me a stick.”
Sebastian looked rather fearful, glancing at his brother as he spoke. “I will not.”
“De Reyne!” de Gare boomed. “Turn around and face me, you filth. For the punishment and humiliation you dealt me when we served Mortimer, I intend to extract justice from your hide. Turn around, I say!”
Cathlina had enough. She was furious and hurt on Mathias’ behalf to the point of irrational behavior. She was very protective over those she loved… those she loved. Of course! She thought. I must love Mathias ’else I would not want to kill for him. He had saved her life, once. Now it was time to return the favor.
As they moved down the avenue, they passed a metalworker’s shop. The man had all manner of iron crosses, small shovels, fire implements, and the like on display. Yanking her arm from Mathias’ steady grasp, she rushed to the display of iron instruments and grabbed the first thing she came to, which happened to be a very sharp fire poker. Before Mathias or Sebastian could stop her, for they didn’t realize what her intentions were until it was too late, Cathlina rushed at de Gare and his contemptible companions. She swung the poker at de Gare’s head, catching him in the face. As he fell back, she swung it again and caught him in the chest. Blood seeped out from two wounds.
“You are a vile and horrible man,” she hissed. “How dare you speak to him in such a manner? You are a worthless excuse for a knight and only feeling sorry for yourself because St. Héver soundly beat you in the joust. Go back to whatever hole you crawled out of and I shall not see your face again for if I do, I shall tell the Earl of Carlisle and have him deal with you. Is that what you want? A fight with a man who can destroy you with a flick of his hand? Go away from me, you beast. Go away before I kill you!”
It was a shocking and extraordinarily brave action. Mathias and Sebastian rushed up, standing on either side of her and fully prepared to deal de Gare and his companions a heavy beating if they so much as moved in Cathlina’s direction. But de Gare, with a bloody gash on his cheek and the pitcher of spilled ale across his legs, looked up at Cathlina with shock first and then rage.
When he tried to get up, Sebastian planted a ham-sized fist in his face and knocked him back to the mud, unconscious. After that, his companions fled. Mathias snatched the poker from Cathlina’s grasp and tossed it, turning her around in the direction they had come. But the moment he spun her around, they both came to an abrupt halt.
Saer de Lara was standing behind them with Abechail on one side of him and Roman de Lara on the other. By the look on his face, Mathias knew the man had seen the entire incident.