CHAPTER THREE
“Come, Jago, sit.” A man in fine robes with shaggy dark hair and one droopy eye indicated the seat next to him at the dais. “I have not seen you since last week. Come and greet my lady wife.”
John Lackland, or John of England, was gracious towards his bastard cousin. But he had every reason to be gracious considering this was his party and his feast. A man of excess, of stubborn ideals, and of an inherent hatred for his family unless they could be of benefit to him, John pretended to be pleased to see his cousin.
In truth, he wanted something.
Jago, however, was too caught up in the pride of being seen with the prince to realize that he was being preyed upon. The only spot of concern for him was the fact that he’d not brought the young woman with him that had been specifically requested by Hawisa, the prince’s wife. He was a little nervous about it, in truth, so he preemptively broached the subject as he took his seat.
“My lady,” he said, greeting the woman who sat on the prince’s left hand. She was small, pale, with red hair pulled back into an elaborately bejeweled net. It was the most beautiful thing on an otherwise plain woman. “I do apologize that I am alone. I was told you requested to meet a young woman who serves my wife but I have been informed that she has taken ill and has returned to The Wix. I would be very happy to introduce you to her when she is feeling better.”
Hawisa of Gloucester barely acknowledged Jago. In fact, it was rumored that the woman didn’t even know how to smile except when she was watching her guards bed virgins that Hawisa herself brought to them. That was one of the rumors, anyway, in a climate that was full of them. As deviant as her husband was, gossip said that Hawisa was worse. She was also something of a recluse, which made a celebration like this very odd, for she wasn’t known to be extravagant or social. Just the opposite, in fact; she’d been known to be very odd with unusual appetites.
It was that woman who was now focused on her husband’s cousin. Emotionless dark eyes glittered.
“The woman in the scarlet silks?” she asked.
Jago nodded. “Aye, my lady.”
Hawisa didn’t even respond for the most part. She simply looked back to the room, her eagle-eyed gaze combing the crowd for perhaps another victim. “A pity.”
Jago could sense either her disappointment or her disinterest; he couldn’t be sure. “I am very sorry she has taken ill,” he said, still eager to please. “Will any of my wife’s other women do?”
Hawisa turned her dark-eyed gaze to the feasting table directly across from the dais. It only took her a moment to shake her head.
“Nay.”
That seemed to be the end of the conversation and Jago was feeling embarrassed that the one woman Hawisa wanted to meet had left the party with a claim of illness. The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint the woman who would be the next queen of England. At least, that was his suspicion.
Jago wasn’t a fool; he could see which way the winds of politics were blowing these days. Richard was back in France, trying to reconquer parts of Normandy, and John was in England amassing an army to take back the throne. This wasn’t unusual as far as John was concerned, but things would soon be happening. Another brother-against-brother war was on the horizon, another struggle in a long line of them.
When that happened, Jago wanted to be on the right side.
“As she said, a pity,” John said, cutting into Jago’s thoughts. “Who is the girl?”
Jago could see that they weren’t ready to bury that subject. “She is a lady-in-waiting for my wife,” he said. “The last name is du Bose, although I cannot recall what her given name is. She only came to us last month when her mother died.”
John held up his bejeweled chalice for a servant to fill with more rich, red wine. “Is she young?”
“Young enough, I suppose.” Jago wanted off the subject of the vanishing woman. “You have many fine houses here tonight, my lord. Quite an impressive display. I can only imagine that Richard’s chancellor is having fits with all of your supporters gathering at Westminster.”
He said it as if he were in support of harassing Richard’s chancellor. John lifted a dark eyebrow. “Hubert Walter is a man with a big task on his hands whilst my brother fights his wars elsewhere,” he muttered, looking out over the room and remembering the knight he’d seen at Colchester’s table, a man he’d not expected to see at tonight’s event. He’d watched the knight for a few minutes, chatting with Colchester men, but now he didn’t see him any longer. “But not all men in attendance tonight are my supporters. I saw one such man at your table.”
Jago looked at him curiously. “Who, my lord?”
John was casual; he needed to be casual until he could figure out how to approach the subject of Jago’s loyalties. “Garret de Moray,” he said. “He is the Captain of the Royal Guard here at Westminster. Did you know that?”
Jago knew the names and stations of most noblemen on sight but he wasn’t very good with the rank and file. “De Moray, you say?” he said, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “Rickard de Moray is my captain. Garret de Moray… now I recall. He went on crusade with Richard.”
John sipped his tart, red wine. “A staunch Richard supporter, and he is allied with de Lohr and de Wolfe. Your captain must be his brother.”
De Lohr and de Wolfe were two houses who were stalwartly linked to Richard; Jago knew that well. He’d had some interaction with Christopher de Lohr in The Levant and, truth be told, he envied the man his relationship with Richard. The king and de Lohr were close, and it was something Jago had been jealous of. Defender of the Realm, they called the man. There was much regarding de Lohr to be jealous over.
But de Moray… he knew the name even if he really didn’t know the man. Richard had a host of powerful knights at his disposal in The Levant and de Moray was simply one of them. Oddly enough, Jago hadn’t made the connection between Rickard and Garret before now.
It was an interesting bit of information.
“De Moray is not a common name,” he finally said. “I am ashamed to admit that it had not occurred to me before now that my captain had a brother fighting for Richard in The Levant. ’Tis a small world, I must say.”
John wagged a finger at him, a gesture that could have been construed as a warning. “I have never met Garret de Moray but I understand he is not a man to be trifled with,” he said. “I wonder if his brother is a great supporter of Richard also.”
Jago was embarrassed that he didn’t know the answer to that question. “As my captain, my loyalties are his loyalties,” he said. “Besides, Richard is in France these days. I have heard that his supporters have heeded his call to arms, so they are flooding across the sea to answer the royal command as we speak.”
John sighed heavily. “Richard is always in France,” he said. “I was in France, too, for the past several months. I have helped my brother there, you know.”
“I have heard, my lord,” Jago said. “Even so, that is not some place I shall be going.”
“Why not?”
Jago looked at him. “Because I would only be fighting for Richard’s vanity,” he said. “Forgive me for speaking plainly, my lord, because I know you have helped him in his quest to regain his Normandy properties but, as far as I am concerned, vanity is the only reason Richard is in Normandy. He views England as one of his properties, much as he does Normandy and the Aquitaine. To him, they are properties to be conquered and kept, and I shall not be part of the quest to feed his pride.”
John cocked his head. “Odd that you should mention a quest,” he said. “You will not answer my brother’s call to France, yet you answered the call to the Holy Land.”
Jago sipped at his wine. “It was only for my own glory, I assure you.”
“Did you find it there?”
“I found enough,” he said. “But let us be frank; I have wealth and I have men. Now that I have what I want, I do not intend to use either to further the king’s cause in France, at least not unless he adequately compensates me.”
John’s dark eyes were glittering. This was exactly what he wanted to hear because anything Richard could do, he could do better. Compensation? John was more than willing if it meant having Colchester’s support.
“Tell me more, Jago,” he said. “I had no idea you were so ambitious.”
Jago gave him a half-grin. “Of course I am,” he said. “I have Plantagenet blood in me, do I not? Whatever fed our fathers feeds me also. And I know it feeds you as well.”
John set his cup down, a pensive look on his face as he did so. He didn’t want to seem too eager, although the conversation was going exactly as he’d hoped. “I invited you here tonight because you are part of my family. I did not do it to discuss politics.”
“Then I shall not. Forgive me.”
John held up a hand. “That is not what I meant,” he said. “I always thought my brother had your loyalty.”
Jago shrugged, a dismissive gesture. “I do not make a habit of supporting fools and, at the moment, your brother is a fool. France is a lost cause. He should be home in England, managing his kingdom. You are here, John. Mayhap, it should be you managing England and not Richard, since he deems it necessary to never set foot on English soil yet drains our coffers for his wars just the same.”
John was sitting back in his chair, listening to his cousin speak. The man was a bit tipsy, but it didn’t seem to be the wine talking. Jago was at that point where his tongue was loosened but not so much that only idiocy was coming forth. Now, truth was coming forth and John couldn’t have been more pleased.
Jago de Nantes didn’t possess the best reputation. Underhanded and untrustworthy were things John knew of the man. But he was wealthy, thanks to Richard, and he did hold some power. John may have been siding with his brother as of late, behaving for the most part and lending Richard his allegiance, but it didn’t kill the determination in him. It didn’t kill the need to rule, to control, and he could only do it with the support of men like Jago.
This was the opportunity John had hoped for.
“Then I shall speak to the ambitious man in you,” he finally said. “My brother is not here, as you’ve said. He prefers France. Me, on the other hand – I love England. This is my home.”
Jago held up his cup to the man. “England loves you also, my lord.”
John smiled thinly. “And you?”
“Of course, I love you, too.”
This is the moment John had been waiting for. Leaning forward on the arm of his carved oaken chair, he looked Jago in the eye as he asked the fateful question.
“How much?”
*
The Laughing Gravy Tavern
On Duchy Road, London
Lyssa was halfway through a huge cup of ale that tasted like straw. Or perhaps it was the wheat of the ale she tasted; she couldn’t be sure. And there was grit in it, like bits of chaff, and when she swallowed it, the liquid burned down her throat.
Several gulps of the stuff had been enough to give her a serious buzzing in her head and made her laugh at nearly everything, including the fools who were performing on the floor of a tavern Garret had taken her to. The men were poking at each other, hitting each other with bladders blown up into balloons, and generally creating a ruckus that had the entire tavern roaring with laughter.
Garret sat on her right, into his second cup of the very strong ale, while another man sat on her left. It was the second man she wasn’t entirely certain of, someone that Garret had summoned from the barracks at Westminster and who had acted as a chaperone of sorts as Garret had taken Lyssa north towards The Wix but ended up entering the city and heading to the seedier riverfront side of London. These were the dirty roads and alleyways of the urchins of the city. But it was also the side of London that had taverns lining the streets and traveling theaters; literally, wagons that would stop and men would perform a play before moving on to the next stop.
It was the beating heart of London where the hedonists lived.
It was a bright, bold world to Lyssa, something that should have shocked her proper senses but something she found inherently fascinating. As she sipped her ale and giggled at the performers, she was also eyeing the man who was their chaperone. He was dressed in robes and his hair was uncut, a silken dark mass flowing past his shoulders.
He wasn’t English; that was certain. Everything about him was dark. Garret had introduced him as Zayin, a friend and colleague, but Lyssa had never seen such a man in her entire life. He seemed quiet and respectful, but when he spoke, it was with a heavy accent she didn’t recognize. Even as they sat at the table in the tavern, surrounded by drunkards and people having a wonderful time, Zayin simply sat and drank nothing more than boiled apple juice with bits of fruit in it. He didn’t even laugh when the fools hit each other with their bladder balloons or threw buckets of ash on each other.
His stoic manner would have made Lyssa uncomfortable but for the fact that the strong ale seemed to ease her concerns. In fact, she didn’t seem to care about much of anything with the drink running through her veins. Garret had asked her to trust him, and trust she had. She had to assume the man would not put her in harm’s way and this quiet, odd friend of his was nothing to fear. Therefore, she continued to drink. She ate heartily when Garret ordered a meal to replace the one she had been denied at Westminster. Lyssa delved in to the boiled beef and carrots, stuffing herself as a world of fun and entertainment went on around her.
She’d never experienced anything like it.
At one point, one of the fools began to run through the audience, bashing heads with his bladder balloon. Lyssa was so enamored with the antics that she didn’t notice Garret as he cocked a disapproving eyebrow, ready to hold a hand up should the fool try to hit him or Lyssa. Fortunately, the man didn’t come close. Instead, he ran off into the crowd and Garret returned to his drink. But his attention was on Lyssa as she practically stood on her chair to watch the fools as they ran among the crowd.
“It seems to me as if you approve of the entertainment, my lady,” he said.
Lyssa grinned, realizing she was standing up and perhaps even making a spectacle of herself, so she sat down sheepishly. “I-I have never seen such a thing,” she said. “H-How do you know this place?”
“I have been here once or twice before.”
“T-Then you come here often?”
Before Garret could reply, Zayin answered. “My lady, he hardly leaves Westminster,” he said. “In fact, I cannot remember the last time we were away from the palace grounds, which is why I find it quite fascinating that we are away on this night of all nights.”
He meant with John’s grand soiree going on, but Lyssa didn’t quite catch his meaning. With the drink in her, Lyssa was less guarded around the strange man and more interested in who, and what, he was. She didn’t even notice Garret casting his friend a rather annoyed look at his comment. All she could see was a very different man in front of her, more different than anything she’d ever seen.
“A-Are you a knight, too?” she asked Zayin.
Zayin shrugged. “In a sense,” he replied. “I am a great warrior. I have lived and breathed war, much as Sir Garret has.”
“W-Where are you from?”
“Damascus.”
Lyssa brow furrowed. “W-Where is that?”
Zayin smiled faintly at the woman’s curiosity. “Very far away, my lady. Very, very far.”
Lyssa sensed that he was somehow amused by her question. “I-Is it near France?”
“You know where France is?”
She nodded. “I-I was born there.”
“It is not near France. It takes many months to travel from Damascus to England.”
Lyssa pondered this faraway land, so far that it took months to reach it. “W-What is it like there?” she asked. “And why did you come to England if it is so far away?”
Zayin laughed softly. “I have often wondered that myself,” he said. “But for a debt to Sir Garret, I would still be in my land. Because you have asked me, I shall tell you – it is a place of great warmth and great beauty. There are golden sands upon which rests green islands of trees, where the waters run cool and pure. It is the land where Christ walked.”
Lyssa was greatly interested in this marvelous place. “J-Jerusalem?”
He nodded. “It is nearer to Jerusalem, yes.”
Lyssa was quite fascinated by all of it. She looked at Garret, who was smiling at her over the rim of his cup. “I-I think that is wonderful,” she said. “D-Did you go to Damascus when you were on crusade with the king?”
Garret lifted an eyebrow. “How do you know I went on crusade?”
Lyssa grinned. “J-Juliana de Nerra told me,” she said. “S-She said that you were a great knight, even the greatest who has ever lived. S-She said you went on crusade with the king.”
Garret knew who Lady Juliana was, the sister of Gavin, a man who would quite possibly be looking for him by now. He’d left the grounds of Westminster without telling a soul, mostly because he didn’t want anyone asking him any questions. He didn’t want to have to explain that he was taking a detour escorting a lovely young lady home, but he’d brought Zayin to ensure nothing unseemly – or perceived unseemly – happened. In truth, he’d only planned to spend an hour with the lady at the most, but they’d ended up across the river and enjoying entertainment in a rather seedy tavern.
And he was enjoying it immensely.
He wasn’t even sure why they’d ended up there, only that they had. The woman had seemed so disappointed at missing out on a grand party that he’d wanted to show her a good time before taking her to The Wix for the night. But, for propriety’s sake as well as the sake of his duties, he knew he needed to return her sooner rather than later. He was loath to do it, but he knew he had to. Besides… he knew he had to return her before the Colchester party returned from Westminster, if only to protect the lady’s reputation. If what his brother said was true, she was already being watched enough.
Not that he blamed the men doing the watching.
“Lady Juliana is correct,” he said belatedly. “I am the greatest knight who has ever lived.”
He said it with such pomp that Lyssa burst out laughing. She looked at Zayin. “I-Is that true?”
Zayin nodded. “Next to me, he most certainly is.”
Garret rolled his eyes and downed the contents of his cup, setting the vessel back onto the table. “You have delusions of grandeur, my friend,” he said. “I shall, therefore, take a vote. My lady, you must decide – who is greater. Me or that foolish whelp of a man sitting next to you?”
As Lyssa giggled, Zayin defended himself. “I am descended from kings,” he said. “You, my lord, are not.”
“That does not make you great. In fact, it probably makes you pampered and silly.”
“Shall we go out to the street and let our weapons decide just how silly I am?”
They were jesting with each other, as egotistical men do, but Lyssa held up her hands. “T-There will be no fighting on this night,” she insisted, looking between the two of them. “I-I wish to remember this evening as one of the most wonderful times I have ever had. I-I would be very unhappy if it ended in bloodshed.”
Garret snorted. “I know what would happen. We would bleed to death right in front of you because you would be too ill at the sight of blood to help us.”
“I-I would not help you, anyway, if you were to fight so foolishly.”
“Is that so?”
Her eyes glimmered mischievously. “Y-You would deserve your fate.”
Garret’s eyes narrowed at her in a threatening manner but he couldn’t maintain the act. He broke down in a grin.
“You are a cruel woman,” he said. “But you are more than likely right. Still, you would, at least, help me, would you not?”
She shook her head. “Y-You least of all.”
Zayin laughed loudly at her reply as Garret could see the conversation was turning against him. Truth be told, he wasn’t upset about it in the least. The lady was charming, humorous, and unafraid to bite back.
He rather liked her bite.
“Then I am deeply insulted,” he said, although he didn’t mean a word of it. “But I cannot challenge you at the moment because we have stayed longer than I had intended. As much as I do not want to end this evening, I must return you to The Wix before the Colchester party returns. It would not do for you to return well after they did when I was supposed to take you directly to The Wix from Westminster in the first place.”
Lyssa’s face fell. “W-We must leave?”
Garret nodded, pulling out a couple of coins from his purse and tossing them onto the table. He stood up, pulling Lyssa up with him. “Unfortunately, we must,” he said. “But I do hope you have enjoyed your evening. Mayhap it was not the grand party at Westminster, but I hope you were entertained nonetheless.”
Lyssa was about to reply when the two fools suddenly raced by and one of them grabbed her away from Garret. He took her in his arms and began to dance across the floor, bumping into customers, as he sang loudly to her.
Women, women, who loves women?
Some be lewd!
Some be shrewd!
To bare a man’s purse or his bollocks!
The crowd roared with laughter at the bawdy song and Garret immediately moved to follow so he could reclaim the lady, but Zayin reached out and stopped him.
“Nay,” he insisted quietly. “She is still laughing. Unless she cries for help, do not rush in to separate her from the fool.”
Garret looked at Zayin as if the man had lost his mind. “Did you hear the words to that song?”
Zayin nodded patiently. “But I am not entirely sure she did,” he said. “She seems to be having a marvelous time and if you rush in now, you risk embarrassing her. And then you will have to explain why you did it.”
“The words to the song?”
“Precisely.”
Garret hadn’t thought of it that way and he came to a halt, refraining from charging any further. Still, he was watching Lyssa like a hawk as the fool twirled her around. Zayin was right; she was laughing. She was having the time of her life. The fool twirled her so much that, with the drink she’d imbibed that evening, she nearly fell to the floor but the fool was fast enough to right her. Then, he grabbed her by the hand and pulled her over to the table in the center of the common room where he and his cohort had been performing their act. Lifting Lyssa by the waist, he plopped her on the tabletop.
“A feat, a feat!” he cried. “We will have a feat!”
Garret wasn’t entirely sure what that meant and his protective instincts were on high alert. He didn’t like those men touching Lyssa, even if it was relatively benign, and he most certainly didn’t like the fact that she was out of arm’s reach. He wanted her right next to him where he could control the situation.
Still… it occurred to him over that Lyssa didn’t belong to him in any way. She was not his wife or his betrothed. He was nothing to her and she to him so, in a sense, he had no more right to her than the fools who were now putting a stick atop her head and taking bets from the audience on how long they could balance a flat piece of earthenware on the stick before it fell off.
It was all very disturbing to him.
“Will you tell me who this woman is, Salibi?” Zayin asked him quietly. “You only introduced us back at Westminster but you did not tell me who she is.”
The soft question filled the air between them. Garret’s gaze was riveted to Lyssa as she tried not to giggle while the fools balanced things on her head.
“What do you mean?” he asked evasively.
Zayin knew that Garret was trying to avoid the question. He was looking at Garret as Garret looked at Lyssa. Zayin know the man for five years and had never seen such an expression on his face. There was such… interest there. He had no other way to describe the expression and he’d been dying to ask him who the lady was ever since they left Westminster but they’d had no time alone. He wasn’t going to ask in front of the lady. But now, he was asking.
“I mean to know who she is to you,” Zayin said. “Why is she with you? Where does she come from?”
Garret watched as the fools began to put coins on top of the flat earthenware that Lyssa was balancing on her head. “She is a lady-in-waiting to the Duchess of Colchester,” he said. “John and Hawisa had evidently set their sights on her at the party tonight and I volunteered to return her to Colchester’s townhome.”
“But you did not return her to the townhome.”
Garret shook his head, watching Lyssa as she began to laugh and the fools roared with humor because the stick on her head was wavering. “Nay,” he said quietly. “I did not. She was saddened because she was forced to leave the party so I thought… God’s Bones, I do not know what I thought other than I felt some pity for her. I thought to bring her here for a meal and entertainment before taking her back to Colchester’s.”
“But why?”
“Because it seemed to me that she needed it.”
Zayin was trying to decipher what, exactly, he was being told. The Garret de Moray he knew didn’t give much attention to women, so he found it very surprising that Garret should give this young woman his focus. Not that he blamed him; even with the catch in her speech, she was quite lovely as far as English women went. She seemed kind and curious, too, and had a gentleness about her that suggested manners and graciousness. But their odd departure from Westminster and now finding themselves at a tavern with a rather vulgar reputation had Zayin scratching his head about the entire situation. Innocent as it seemed, this wasn’t the Garret he knew and he was understandably confused.
But… he didn’t press. If Garret wanted him to know anything more, then he would tell him, so Zayin simply kept his mouth shut as Garret continued to behave strangely where the woman was concerned. He seemed so… possessive of her. Yet, he didn’t move from Garret’s side in case the man should feel as if the woman was threatened somehow. But that all came to a blissful end when the plate on her head fell and the fools ran around collecting the bets from the audience.
Garret took that opportunity to remove Lyssa from the table and quickly lead her away from the frivolities. Even as they quit the tavern, they could hear the fools calling after them and the audience booing because the pretty woman was being taken away. But Garret ignored the unhappiness of the patrons; they weren’t his concern. He simply kept walking until they were out in the moist evening.
“G-God’s Bones!” Lyssa gasped as she fanned her face furiously with her hand. “T-That was one of the more lively places I have ever been. W-What fun it was!”
She was slightly drunk, still giggling, as Garret took her by the arm and began leading her across the road to the livery where they’d left the horses.
“You were afraid you had missed the party at Westminster,” Garret said as he glanced at her. “I took you to a better party.”
She grinned at him, beaming, and he couldn’t help but grin in return. Something about her smile made him feel warm and giddy all over.
“N-No one at Westminster could have had a better time than I,” she said. “T-Thank you, my lord. I do not know when I have had more fun.”
“It was my pleasure, my lady.”
“I-I cannot wait to tell Juliana and the other ladies. T-They will be quite jealous!”
Garret shook his head. “You had better not tell them. I was supposed to take you back to The Wix immediately, yet I did not. I would wager to say that the duchess would not approve of what we have done this evening so, for your own sake, I would suggest you not tell anyone. It will have to be your secret.”
Lyssa lost some of her giddiness. “B-But why would she not approve?” she asked. “W-We have not traveled alone; we have traveled with Sir Zayin. N-Nothing we have done has been untoward and you are a man with a reputation beyond reproach.”
Garret paused at the entrance to the livery as Zayin went in to retrieve the horses. He looked at Lyssa, seeing that she truly didn’t grasp the fact that their little adventure on this night might not be viewed as innocently as she seemed to think. Certainly, he never intended to compromise the woman in any way, but he didn’t think their activity would be viewed as completely innocent by others.
He knew the way men thought.
“It would not reflect poorly on me, but others might gossip about the fact that you allowed me to take you to a tavern near the waterfront,” he said. “You must think on it from their perspective, my lady. You permitted a man you did not know to take you to a tavern. It would be best if you simply kept the event to yourself.”
Lyssa listened to his explanation and although part of her understood what he was saying, another part of her understood that, perhaps, he did not want others to know he had been in her company. The woman with the catch in her speech. Of course, he would be ashamed; any man would. It reminded her that this entire event had been based on his pity towards her. Abruptly, she lowered her head.
“I-I understand, my lord,” she said. “I-I will not tell anyone.”
There was that tone in her voice again, as if he’d upset her. The third time in as many hours. The first two times, he hadn’t pressed her very much for an answer, but now he was going to. He shouldn’t have cared. Truthfully, he should have simply accepted the fact that she was an emotional female just like the rest, one given to irrational whims and moods, but something told him that she wasn’t like that. She seemed genuine and open and honest.
It was something that he liked about her, this wide-open fascination with the world and the trusting look in her eye. He had watched her in the tavern, her joy in life and her humor, and he knew this wouldn’t be the last time he saw her. He wanted to see her again and again, and in time, perhaps something even more than that. Perhaps this was the woman he would finally take unto himself and call her wife. But before that could happen, in the infancy of whatever he was feeling for her, they had to get a few things straight. With that in mind, he reached out and grasped her arm.
“Look at me,” he said quietly.
Lyssa kept her red-cheeked face down. “I-I-I do not….”
He cut her off, though it was gently done. “Lyssa, look at me.”
Her head shot up, astonished that he had used her name so boldly. When he saw her surprise, he lifted his eyebrows. “So you do not like it when I call you by your name?”
Lyssa’s expression was uncertain. “I-I-It is forward of you.”
Her stammering was growing worse, perhaps because she was upset. Perhaps it was even because she was afraid. Whatever the case, he didn’t like it when she was nervous. He wanted to see that happy young woman, always, and especially when it pertained to him.
“Aye, it is,” he said quietly. “But in case you have not realized it, I have been rather bold towards you all evening. May I call you by your name in private, when it is just the two of us?”
She nodded unsteadily. “I-If you wish.”
“I do. And I wish that you should call me Garret.”
Her puzzled expression grew. “I-If that is your wish, I shall.”
“Excellent. Now, Lyssa, I wish to ask you a question.”
She eyed him. “I-I will answer if I can.”
“Do I make you nervous?”
Lyssa looked at him for a moment. “S-Sometimes,” she said honestly.
A smile played on his lips. “Thank you for being truthful,” he said quietly. “If I have made you nervous, that has never been my intention. I am sorry if you have felt that way. To be completely honest… you make me a little nervous, too.”
Now, she was surprised. “I-I do?”
He nodded. “There is something I wish to ask you and I am afraid I will not like your answer.”
“W-What is the question?”
His smile grew, but it was forced. Garret realized that he really was nervous as he looked at her. “Would you be agreeable if I were to call upon you at The Wix?”
She stared at him, dumbly. “C-Call upon me for what?”
He snorted. “Because I would like to see you again.”
“W-What do you wish to see?”
“God’s Bones, woman, do I have to make myself plain? I wish to call upon you. To bask in your beauty, to bring you gifts. Now do you understand?”
She did. He could tell when her eyes widened as if she could hardly believe what she’d just heard. “M-Me?” she gasped.
“You.”
Her mouth popped open. “W-Why would you want to do such a thing?”
He couldn’t tell if she was pleased or not. “Because I find you enchanting. Because I would like to spend time with you.”
As he watched, her eyes suddenly pooled with tears and she blinked rapidly, chasing them away. He grew concerned.
“Does this distress you?” he asked. “I am sorry if I have offended you. That was not my intention. If what I have said is of no interest to you, then you only need tell me. I will not trouble you further.”
Lyssa, in truth, could hardly believe any of it. She felt entirely foolish for her reaction, but not so foolish considering the lack of confidence she had in herself. She put a hand to her mouth, trying to stave off her astonishment as she struggled to grasp that a man – any man – should look to her as a romantic prospect. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine such a thing would be possible, and most certainly not from someone like Garret de Moray.
“B-But I do not understand,” she whispered, her throat tight. “Y-Y-You are a great and noble knight. I-I am… I am no one. I-I have no great family ties, no prestige to bring you. I-In fact, I cannot even speak without sounding like a dullard, so I do not understand why you would… why anyone would….”
In that stammered statement, Garret came to understand a great deal. In fact, it was a rather heartbreaking realization. He began to think back through the evening, thinking to the moments when she’d grown moody or quiet, and each time it had been because he had given her a compliment of some kind.
Did the woman truly believe she was unworthy of them?
“So you believe no one would want to court you because you are not from a great family?” he asked. “Lady, you sorely underestimate yourself. In the short time I have known you, I have come to see a kind and joyful woman who clearly thirsts for life. I have never seen anyone laugh as openly as you have tonight. As those idiots put that stick on your head, you were thrilled to be part of it. I cannot remember ever having that kind of unbridled joy, not ever. It intrigues me. You intrigue me. I would take you over all of the finely-bred females England had to offer, even if it was only for this night. To me, it would be worth it.”
Lyssa’s heart went from slowly breaking to taking flight. She’d never heard such sweet or lovely words, now directed at her. Could she even dare to hope? “E-Even with… with the way I speak?”
His brow furrowed as if he didn’t know what she meant. “You speak like an angel.”
“B-But I stammer my words!”
“It is of no consequence to me.”
Lyssa could hardly believe what she was hearing. She felt like she was living a dream because, surely, only in dreams would a man as powerful and handsome as Garret de Moray say such things.
This didn’t happen in her world.
As Lyssa struggled for a reply, Garret reached out and gently took her hand, bringing it to his lips for a tender kiss, and she nearly collapsed. Lightheaded, Lyssa watched him as he flipped her hand over and kissed her palm. The expression on her face was nothing short of miraculous, but she could only think of one thing to say.
“A-Are you deaf, then?”
Garret burst out laughing, low and deep. He kissed her hand again. “I can hear you quite clearly,” he said. “And I can see you quite clearly. You are an exquisite creature and I would be humbled and proud if you will allow me to call upon you. Please do not deny me.”
She shook her head, a smile on her lips because he was still chuckling. “I-I will not deny you,” she murmured. “I-I can only say that you honor me greatly.”
Garret was about to reply when a shadow stepped out from behind the livery. In fact, several shadows stepped out and Garret was immediately on his guard, pulling Lyssa against him in his haste to remove her from the shadow that was coming up behind her. Very quickly, he realized that there were also men behind him. He couldn’t tell how many but he realized that this was not a good situation.
In fact, it was a dangerous one.
Years as a trained warrior told him that. He didn’t try to back up or move away other than to pull Lyssa against him, protectively, as the men began to come into the light of the livery lamps. Garret could see they were armed. He was, too, but Lyssa was without any weapons or protection, and if this turned into a fight, he was concerned for her. He knew that Zayin was in the livery and, hopefully, could see the situation. He was counting on it because he could see at least six men and possibly more behind him. If he was going to take them all on, then he at least wanted Zayin to protect the lady.
“How romantic,” the dirty, round man who had come up behind Lyssa spoke, his tone crass and crude. “The lady is, indeed, an exquisite creature, knight. I don’t blame ye for wanting something from her.”
Garret showed absolutely no fear. He took a step back, in the direction of the livery, but he could hear the sing of weapons as they were pulled forth from their sheaths. Having heard that sound many times in his life, he immediately stopped.
“I have no quarrel with you at the moment. But if you and your men do not lower your weapons and go about your business, that will quickly change,” he said to the dirty man who had addressed him. “If your men attack, you will be the first one I kill so consider your next move carefully.”
The dirty man stared at him a moment before breaking out into a grin. “Bold words, m’lord,” he said. “I am not sure if ye have noticed, but ye’re sorely outnumbered.”
“I do not need increased numbers in order to defeat rabble such as you.”
The men standing around chuckled, a nasty and guttural sound. The dirty man looked around, smiling at his colleagues, before returning his attention to Garret. “Ye have a grand opinion of yerself,” he said. “But, then again, I’ve never met a knight who didn’t believe he was invincible. Where do ye hail from, sweetheart?”
More laughing and snorting from the men around them. Garret’s gaze lingered on the dirty man; he could see that his adversary had at least three distinct daggers on his body, probably more he couldn’t see. So, this man was well armed. He dared to take his gaze off of the man and glance to his right and to his left, counting seven men now. He wasn’t fearful for himself, but his concern for the lady grew. He could take on this group without a problem but he would have to get her out of the way first. His mind, sharp and wise, began to work quickly.
“Where I come from is not your concern,” he replied after a moment. “But since you seem to want something from me, let us get on with it. I will not give it to you, whatever it is, so let us simply move to the next step. If it is a fight you want, then a fight you shall have.”
The dirty man’s eyebrows rose but the smug grin never left his face. “I don’t want a fight.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
The man laughed. Then, he pointed to Lyssa, pulled up against Garret’s torso. “I just want to smell her hair.”
His men burst into lewd laughter, filling the damp night air with their particular brand of filth and fear. Garret, his gaze still focused on the dirty man, leaned over and buried his face in the top of Lyssa’s head.
“When I release you, run into the livery,” he whispered against her skull. “Do not hesitate. Run as fast as you can.”
Lyssa was cradled into the curve of his big torso, never more terrified in her entire life. Suddenly, she didn’t feel so drunk or so happy. She was frightened as she’d never been frightened before. Men evidently intent on doing them harm had converged on them like vermin, something she’d never before faced. She had no idea what to do or what to say. But before she could respond to Garret in any way, he made a big show of inhaling deeply – and loudly – and pulled his face from her hair.
“Her scent is only for me,” he told the men. “Now, are there any other demands I will not comply with before we began our deadly dance?”
The dirty man’s smile began to fade. “Why are ye so eager to battle with me? I have made no demands of ye other than to smell the lady’s hair.”
“Contrary to what you must think, I am not as stupid as you evidently believe I am. I know what you want and it is not to smell the lady’s hair. If you are going to attack me, then let’s get on with it. I grow weary of this conversation.”
The dirty man cocked his head as if debating how to handle this very big knight who clearly had no fear of him or of his men. He scratched his filth-covered hair and opened his mouth to speak when, suddenly, an arrow landed right in front of him. As he jumped back, another one hit only a couple of feet away.
Garret used the opportunity to shove Lyssa back into the livery as Zayin came charging out, tossing another crossbow to Garret, who quickly grasped it, steadied it, and fired at the men who were now fleeing into the darkness from whence they came. He could have easily hit them but that would have left him with injured would-be thieves, and he had no desire to deal with that this night. He simply wanted them to go away. Therefore, the arrows sailed past the men who were running, lodging in the tavern wall across the street.
“Are you injured?” Zayin said, running up beside him. He was looking around, making sure there were no more outlaws waiting to jump out at them. “I am sorry it took so long; the trigger on my crossbow jammed.”
Garret shook his head; his gaze, too, was on the shadows, making sure the outlaws were not about to come running back out at him.
“You came just in time,” he assured him. “But we must return the lady home, quickly. I do not want to chance that those fools return, and in larger numbers.”
With that, they both turned for the livery only to see the old livery keep bending over a supine figure on the ground. As Garret and Zayin came into the light of the stable, they were both horrified to see that it was Lyssa on the ground, unconscious. Garret quickly handed his crossbow over to Zayin and knelt at Lyssa’s side.
“What happened?” he asked.
The old livery keep was blind in one eye and nearly deaf, but his mind was still sharp. He barely heard Garret’s question although it had been enough that he deduced what had been asked. He pointed to the doorway of the livery, with a big post just inside the door to support the thatched roof.
“She hit her head, m’lord,” the old man said. “When she fell into the livery, she hit her head on the post. She has not moved since.”
Garret sighed heavily, carefully rolling Lyssa over onto her back. Gently, he felt her skull, his fingers moving through her careful hairstyle, until he came to a lump on the left side of her head. He lifted both lids, watching her eyes react to the light, before scooping her up from the dirty floor of the livery.
“I must return her home,” he said, some irony in his voice. “Zayin, get the horses. Quickly, now.”
Zayin was already moving, pulling the big war horses forward. Garret was able to mount his steed while still holding Lyssa, a rather complex trick. But he settled himself in the saddle, holding Lyssa across his thighs as he spurred his horse out into the night.
It wasn’t too terribly far to The Wix and he found himself praying that Lyssa would wake up before they got there. He wasn’t exactly sure how he could explain her unconscious state to his brother without looking as if he were lying about the situation. That is exactly what happened, Rickard. I took the lady to a tavern and we were set upon by bandits as we left. The lady hit her head when I tried to protect her….
He was there and it didn’t even sound like the truth to him.
His plan to give Lady Lyssa a lovely evening seemed to have ended on a low note.