Tender is the Knight (22 page)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The rats were as big as small ponies in this wretched place. Riston watched a family of rodents dance across the floor of his cell, sniffing at his feet until he kicked at him. And then they tried to bite him, bold little bastards. So he stomped on the tail of one, listening to it scream and knowing they would probably stay away for a while. But then they would be back again in greater numbers, this time probably to eat his face off as he slept.

He sighed, looking around his new home. It was cramped, smelling strongly of urine and feces and rot. Water dripped down one of the walls and a legion of moss cascaded to the floor. It was a terrible place to spend the rest of one’s life, he thought bleakly, and wondered seriously how much more life he had to live. The longer he sat, watched and waited, the greater his anxiety grew. He tried not to let his imagination run wild, but it was a difficult struggle.

The door to the cell was an iron grate. Every so often, a soldier would stroll past, smirk at him, and leave. At first, Riston had engaged the guards in a snarling game, but now he simply ignored them. The last check had been over a half-hour ago and Riston hardly cared any more. As he sat there, pondering his future or lack thereof, a cloaked figure suddenly appeared at the grate.

“Riston!”

Lyla’s green eyes fixed on him. Riston leapt up, nearly knocking himself silly when he hit his head on the roof of the vault. “Lyla,” he went to her, rubbing his skull. “What are you doing here?”

She reached out to touch him and he grasped her hand, kissing it.  Her cheeks pinkened dramatically. “I heard what happened. I am here to get you out!”

He shook his head. “
You shall only doom yourself, honey.  Go back now, before they see you.”

She held up her left hand, which had been concealed within the folds of the cloak.  A great iron key gleamed dully in the weak torchlight.  “I bashed the guard on the head to get this and
I am not leaving without you.”

Riston stared at the key. “Christ, Lyla, you have no idea what
you are….”

“Quiet!” she snapped softly, inserting the key into the lock. She twisted it, but lacking the strength to open it completely, Riston had to help her. The lock was open in little time and the iron grate groaned as Riston pushed it outward.

“Come on!” Lyla grabbed him by the hand.

The vault of Launceston was small. The guard with the bruised head was just coming around as Lyla and Riston found him. Muttering an apology, Riston bashed the man again and proceeded to strip him of his clothing and armor. As Lyla kept watch of the narrow stairs leading to the gatehouse above, Riston switched clothing and put the Launceston soldier back in his own cell, turning his face toward the wall to make it appear that Riston was still there, sleeping. Locking the cell, he donned the man’s too-small helm, hoping it would be enough to cover his identity.

“We cannot be seen together,” he told Lyla. “You go ahead and make sure you are not seen. I can get out from here.”

She shook her head stubbornly, her red curls peeping out from beneath her hood. “I paid a groom to ready my mount. There’s a gate near the stables that we can leave from, but I must take the lead.”

She was taking an awful chance and Riston did not want her taking such terrible risks on his behalf. “Honey, you must not.…”

“Quiet!” she snapped at him again. “Listen to me;
I shall collect my mount if you can make it to the exit near the stables.  Stay out of sight and wait for me. Once I am through the exit, we shall ride back to St. Austell.”

He frowned. “How much sense does it make for you to be taking a leisurely ride at midnight?
Do not you think someone will suspect something, or at least try to stop you?”

Lyla would not be deterred, and Riston saw a good deal of
Ryan in her manner.  “As I said, I paid a groom to keep silent. He’s to wait for me in the shadows.  I know the risks and do not need you to point them out to me.”

Riston
did not like the plan at all. But it was the only one they had and he would be damned if he was going to refuse her help simply to rot away in that stanky cell.   So he agreed, but not before planting a kiss on her fore head for luck. Lyla grabbed him around the neck and pecked him soundly on the lips. With a grin and furious blush, she dashed up the steep stairs into the gatehouse. Riston, fighting a grin himself, hung back for a minute or so before following.

Launceston wasn’t very busy this time of night. It was a relatively simple thing for Riston to make his way across the ward and into the stable yard.  Being so dark, it was difficult to see his face and, being in a Launceston tunic, there wasn’t anyone to give him a second glance. Passing along the row of stalls, he eventually came to the small iron gate cut into the great circular wall of Launceston. Passing through the cold, dark tunnel, he emerged into icy freedom on the other side. He hadn’t taken three steps when the sounds of hooves closed in on him.

“Going somewhere?”

The earl was astride a tall black warm
blood, gazing down at Riston as if he had expected nothing less than the man’s escape.  Riston’s heart sank as he glanced around, noting several soldiers and Lyla unceremoniously slung across one warrior’s saddle.  She continued to squirm and struggle, tears on her face.  Immediately, the situation was very, very bad.

“Yes, actually,” Riston said calmly. “I was going to go for a walk.  The vault is so terribly cramped, you know.
Bad for my health.”

The earl smiled humorlessly. “So you were going to take a walk with a personal escort. My, my, we do treat our prisoners well.”

“Well enough,” Riston agreed simply for the sake of conversation. Lyla was still squirming in the arms of the burly soldiers and Riston felt an extreme sense of protectiveness towards her. “I would remain forever your humble servant if you would let the lady go.”

The earl passed a glance at Lyla and shook his head. He appeared genuinely sad. 
“Wicked child. All of these years I have treated her as family and this is how she repays me. Shocking.”

“I forced her to.”

Lyla heard him and shouted. “He did not! I did this of my own free will, Uncle Richard. Do you hear me? Do not harm him. This was my own idea!”

Richard shook head again. “I know her far too well. I knew she was going to help you escape. It was inevitable. Quite frankly, I was surprised it took her this long. It was simply a matter of waiting for her to make her move.”

Any pleasantness or humor was gone from the conversation. Riston knew that he and Lyla were in a good deal of trouble. “Whatever you do to me, I accept. But do not harm Lady Lyla.”

The earl cocked an eyebrow.
“Why not? She has betrayed me, has she not? Just like her uncle and cousin. They are all traitors and must be dealt with accordingly.”

Riston feared for Lyla more than himself. “
She is young and impressionable, my lord. I would pray that you show mercy and wisdom when considering her punishment.”

The earl snorted.
“Hmm, perhaps. But you are a different matter entirely. You know better, De Titouan, and now you have given me little choice in the matter.”

Riston’s blood ran cold.  “What do you intend to do?”

“What I should have done this morning.”

Quickly, Riston evaluated the situation; there was a grove of trees about three hundred yards to his left.  He could not outrun the men on horseback.  His mind was whirling and suddenly he saw Lyla jerk, as if she had been hit or some other violent movement.  The warrior behind her on the horse abruptly toppled to the ground and in a blur of red hair, Lyla was suddenly racing towards him. No words needed to be spoken; she reined the horse close enough so that Riston was able to leap onto the animal’s back.  Though he nearly lost his grip and fell off, eventually he righted himself and together, he and Lyla raced through the trees with the earl and his men in pursuit. 

It was the most wild, fearful, exciting thing either of them had ever done.

***

Dennis awoke to a very bright morning.  The chamber was fragrant with the scent of cloves and a fire smoldered in the hearth and for a brief second, Dennis felt contentment such as he had never known.  Thoughts of Ryan were thick in his brain, having dreamt something very pleasant about her somewhere in the night. But in the next brutal moment, all of the previous night’s events tumbled down on him and he realized that he was very much alone in his great bed.  Ryan was no longer in his arms and panic, more than he had ever felt in his life, swept him. 

He bolted from the mattress with astonishing agility. “No!” he roared.
“God, no!
Ryan!”

He was nearly to the door when a soft hiss came from the direction of the hearth. He had been in such a state that he hadn’t noticed the chair next to the flames, or the figure sitting in it.  But he turned on his heel at the sound, so hastily that he lost his balance and crashed backwards into the door.  And then, his astonished gaze could hardly believe the sight that faced him.

“You are loud enough to bring down the walls,” Ryan said, her voice very soft and weak. “What are you shouting for? I am right here.”

He thought he whimpered, or something that sounded very close to it.  He moved toward her, a sort of unbalanced gait, before finally plunging to his knees. He wanted to embrace her, touch her, eat her up all at the same time and his hands were shaking as they reached for her.
Ryan smiled at him, exceedingly pale but quite obviously alive, and Dennis came apart at the seams.

“My dear God,” he breathed, touching her face, her hair. “Are you real,
Ryan? Have you truly come back to me?”

She nodded. “Indeed, and
I have been awake for hours waiting for you. Do you know that you snore like an old bear?”

He laughed, sort of, but it was more of a pent-up release.  His arms went around his wife and before he realized it, he was sobbing into her lap. 
Ryan stroked his hair tenderly, her soft coos soothing his tired, relieved heart.

“
Dennis, Dennis,” she hushed him.  “All is well, my love. I am fine, truly.”

“I thought I
had lost you,” he mumbled into her thighs. “The physic said you were as good as gone. Never did I think… I simply cannot believe….”

He was struggling to compose himself.  Thoroughly weak, so much so that she could barely spend the energy to comfort her husband,
Ryan’s heart was filled with elation as she ran her fingers through his fine blond hair. Never could she have imagined his reaction to her recovery; her father, true enough, had shed tears during the night when he had realized that his daughter was stirring in her sleeping husband’s arms. It had taken both Thomas and Charlotte to loosen Dennis’ grip on Ryan and then Patrizia to pull her free.

At
Ryan’s insistence, Thomas had placed her in the chair by the hearth;
I am tired of lying about,
she had told him, though she was as weak as a newborn babe. 
But… you are supposed to be dead!
Thomas had exclaimed. True enough, she felt near death. But she wasn’t. And sitting by the warming fire had helped her spirits and body a great deal. 

Do not
wake him, Da,
she had told her father
. Let him sleep. He is exhausted
. Thomas had spilled out the story of Dennis’ fierce vigil between fatherly hugs and Ryan had been more than touched. So Dennis had slept well into the morning and Ryan listened to his great snores rattle the walls. It had been a joyful, comforting sound.

Charlotte had come and gone,
the old physic had also come and gone, and Patrizia was sleeping in the next room with her small daughters. Thomas was downstairs observing the rebuilding of St. Austell to leave Ryan alone, at her request, with her husband.  She wanted hers to be the very first face he saw when he awoke.  And now, he sat at her feet, his face buried in her lap, weeping like a child.

“
I am sorry, love, truly,” he sniffled and wiped his eyes, gazing up at her with more emotion than he could put into words. “I am acting like a complete fool. You really should not be sitting up, you know. You should be in bed.”

She touched his face and he eagerly kissed her hand. “I know, but my body aches terribly from lying about. It feels much better to sit up.”

He put a gentle palm against her forehead. “Your fever is vanished. How do you feel?”

“Weak,” she said truthfully. 
“Weak and weary. But I suppose not bad, considering.”

His tears were gone, his composure quickly recovered. “Have you eaten anything?”

“The physic will not let me. He has only allowed me to drink.”

He was rapidly becoming the stern husband again.  He rose to his full intimidating height, gazing down at her with his arms crossed.
“Nonsense. You must regain your strength.”

“And I shall,” she agreed. “But I
do not feel like eating right now, really.”

“It would bring me great joy if you would.”

He was insisting she eat in the nicest way possible. Dennis was so polite, so sweet, that it was difficult to resist him.  Ryan pursed her lips irritably, though, just so he would not think she was so compliant.