The Fallen One (10 page)

“Mat,” he
greeted, looking somewhat chagrined. “You are looking well.”

Mathias
grinned. “De Lara just told me I looked old and ugly.”

“He is a
truthful man.”

Mathias
laughed softly.
 
“I can be grateful for
my health, I suppose, even if I am a troll to behold.”

Kenneth
smiled, an extremely rare gesture.
 
He
had big, white teeth that he kept mostly hidden. “I do believe I was the one
considered a troll,” he said. “Compared to you and de Lara and Pembury, I am
the shortest of the group.”

“The shortest
and most fearsome,” Mathias reminded him. “I am glad to see you are still
breathing.
 
Having been living in
obscurity for the past year or so, I have not been abreast of current events or
of my friends’ conditions. I am very happy to see you both alive and well.”

Tate nodded.
“Alive and well indeed,” he said, looking around the smithy stall. “And you? It
looks as if you and your brother and father have done well for yourselves.
 
I am told this is the biggest smithy
operation in Brampton.”

Mathias
nodded. “It keeps us busy.”

There was
something in his tone that suggested that was the only thing the smithy
profession was good for and the truth of the situation began to weigh heavily.
 
They hadn’t seen each other since that
horrible day in January when Mathias lost everything and already the crux of
the situation was rearing its ugly head. It was the giant in the room that no
one wanted to acknowledge yet everyone felt the presence.
 
Tate finally honed up to it since everyone’s
mind was on the same thing.

“How has it
been for you?” he asked quietly. “I am not entirely sure I want to know the
answer, for I know how I would feel if I were in your situation.”

Mathias
lifted a dark eyebrow. “You do?” he asked, torn between curiosity and outrage.
“How
would
you feel?”

Tate found he
was having difficulty looking the man in the eye. “Hollow,” he said after a
moment. “I suppose I would feel hollow. What happened to you could just as
easily happen to me.
 
Such are the
fortunes of war.”

Mathias
shrugged as if to agree. “That is true,” he admitted. “But it did not happen to
you. I happened to me.
 
Feeling hollow is
only the beginning.
 
Unless you have
experienced it, you cannot understand.”

Tate sighed
heavily and averted his gaze; he didn’t dare look at St. Hèver because the man
had been filled with anguish since the happening.
 
He loved and respected Mathias deeply, and his
dishonor had been a bitter thing to watch.

“There is
nothing I can say to lessen your shame or anguish,” he said softly. “Mat, if I
could ease this at all, I surely would.
 
You did not deserve what happened but I swear it was the only way to
save your life. There were many who wanted to do to you what was done to
Mortimer. The only way to prevent that was to strip you of everything and make
you inert.
 
I pray to God that you
understand that.”

Mathias
nodded slowly. “You told me all of this before,” he replied steadily. “I
understand everything.”

Tate gazed
into the dark green eyes; Mathias was a very difficult man to read. “Do you?”
he whispered, almost painfully. “Do you also know how Ken and Stephen and I
spent three days and nights begging the nobles to spare your life? Do you know
that Ken went to fourteen different households in one day alone, gaining
acceptance to have your life spared providing we strip you of your knighthood?
The day that Edward took everything from you was the day we looked upon as a
victory.
 
It could have so easily gone
the other way.
 
I would rather be
speaking to you now, a mighty knight transformed into a simple smithy, than
visiting your grave and wishing I could have prevented your death.”

Mathias truly
hadn’t known all of the wrangling and bargaining that had occurred before he
had been stripped but he assumed it had been something of measure. He had been
in far too powerful a position within Mortimer’s power structure for him to get
away so easily when Mortimer was deposed.
 
His eyes glittered at Tate.

“Yet you
still feel as if you did not do enough,” he ventured softly.

Tate
shrugged.
 
“It is possible,” he murmured.
“I did what I could.
 
I can only pray you
forgive me for what has become of you.
 
I
have wanted to say that to you since everything occurred.”

“And so you
have,” Mathias said quietly, reaching out to grasp Tate’s shoulder in a
reassuring gesture. “Truly, there is nothing to forgive.
 
I simply do not think on it any longer. My
life is here and now, and I must be satisfied with that. But know that I am
grateful for everything you did for me and my family during that time.”

“Edward will
soften,” Kenneth said, watching Mathias comfort a genuinely distressed Tate.
“Already, he speaks of the future and of the mighty knights he will
summon.
 
He has mentioned your name.
 
He misses you, Mat. We all do.”

A dull
twinkle came to Mathias’ eyes. “I am here, in the wilds of the north,” he said.
“I swore never to bear arms again in battle, but I can support you with my
mighty hammer and flaming-hot horse shoes.
 
I am quite good with both, you know.”

Tate cracked
a grin. “I would imagine you would be formidable with a willow switch should
you so choose,” he said. “You are formidable in any case.”

“Get me a
willow switch and let us find out.”

Tate snorted,
as did Kenneth.
 
It was good to alleviate
the tension somewhat and both men were eased to see that Mathias had patiently
and honorably accepted his sentence. In truth, they had expected nothing less.
Mathias had always been exceptionally honorable, but still, that didn’t lessen
the tragedy of the circumstances.
 

“Speaking of
formidable,” Mathias took the opportunity to shift the subject. “I hear you are
competing in the tournament today. Good news travels fast.”

Tate nodded,
struggling to move past the heartbreak of Mathias’ situation. “I am,” he
replied. “So is Ken. It is unfortunate that you are not.
 
It would be like old times.”

Mathias
wasn’t sure which direction to take with his reply.
 
He could agree with the statement or he could
confess his intentions.
 
He wasn’t so
sure he should do the latter, at least not at this point, so he settled for a
neutral reply.

“If it was
like old times I would be defeating you both,” he said with some humor. “Mayhap
it is best that I stay clear of the competition.”

Kenneth
fought off a grin. “I seem to recall that I defeated you in the mêlée I the
last tournament we competed in,” he said. “Coventry, wasn’t it? I knocked you
off your feet.”

Mathias cocked
an eyebrow. “I tripped.”

“Tripped or
fell, the result was the same.”

“You are too
confident. If you do not cease this foolish boasting, I shall ask de Lara
permission to compete against you in tournament to knock some of that arrogance
out of you.”

It was a
calculated statement.
 
Mathias wanted to
see how Tate would react to the idea of him competing in a games based on the
very war implements he had sworn never to wield again. Even though he had
skirted the subject with his father and declared that he wasn’t, in fact,
taking up arms, the truth was that at some point, he would be wielding a weapon
if he advanced in the games.
 
That being
said, his statement to de Lara constituted a pivotal moment, one that Mathias
found himself greatly anticipating. Before Tate could respond, however, a small
figure entered the stall.

“Cousin Tate!
What a wonderful surprise to find you here!”

CHAPTER EIGHT

The men
turned in the direction of the delighted utterance to see Cathlina standing in
the doorway.
 
 
Clad in a pale blue surcoat with a sheer white
scarf around her head and shoulders, she looked like an angel. At her abrupt
appearance, however, silent shock filled the air.

Mathias, in
fact, was frozen. He had never seen anything so beautiful, but in the same
breath, he had no idea what to do.
 
Her
appearance was unexpected and, at the moment, unwelcome. He was terrified for
what was to come now, terrified that Tate would tell her everything about him
and then all would be lost.
 
Already, he
felt a huge sense of loss.

“Cathlina?”
Tate was the first to speak, his voice a mixture of surprise, pleasure, and
disapproval. “What in the world are you doing here?”

Cathlina
extended her hand to Tate, which he caught in his massive glove.
 
She beamed up at him as he held her hand
tightly. “Father brought us to see the tournament,” she said. “We have only
just left your lady wife; she says you are to compete today.”

Tate nodded.
“Indeed,” he replied. “I am competing, as is Sir Kenneth. Surely you remember
him?”

Cathlina
turned to the big blond knight standing behind her; she hadn’t really noticed
him when she entered the stall because he was back in the shadow of the wall.
 
 
He was
smiling at her, his ice-blue eyes rather soft.
 
So the great St. Hèver
 
was
here; she wondered how her sister
was going to react to his presence and she further wondered if St. Hèver
 
had gotten over his infatuation with her. As
he bowed his head towards her in greeting, she was rather hoping so.

“Sir
Kenneth,” she said, forcing a smile. “It is agreeable to see you again.”

Kenneth
bobbed his head at her again. “It is agreeable to see you as well, my lady,” he
said.
 
“You are looking very well.”

It was as
close to a compliment as the serious knight could come and somehow, Cathlina
sensed that his infatuation for her had not burned itself out.
 
There was something in the depths of the
ice-blue eyes that told her so.
 
Quickly,
she turned her attention back to her cousin.

“We are very
excited to see you both compete,” she said. “Abechail is so excited that she
cannot eat.
 
This is her first
tournament, you know.”

Tate was
still holding on to her, now shaking his head. “I did not know,” he replied.
“How is she feeling?”

Cathlina’s
smile faded. “She is the same,” she replied. “The physics say her disease is
worsening. Sometimes she spends weeks in bed, coughing that awful stuff out of
her lungs. The physics tell my parents that it is only a matter of time before…
well, before she is no longer with us.
 
Mother cannot abide their word; she believes God will heal Abbie. I pray
that he does.”

“As do I,”
Tate said softly.

Cathlina
nodded sadly, trying not to think of her sister’s sorrowful state.
 
But thoughts of Abechail reminded her of what
had happened the day before, the very reason why she was in the smithy stall,
and her attention shifted from Tate to Mathias, standing a few feet away.

“Yesterday,
in fact, Abechail would have suffered a terrible fate had it not been for this
smithy,” she said, pointing to the man. “He saved our lives and I am sure he is
a very good smithy, so if you have come to solicit work from him, I would ask
that you do so.
 
We owe him our gratitude
at the very least.”

Tate and
Kenneth looked at Mathias and he could read the surprise on their faces. But
with Tate, there was more than surprise; there was amusement and perhaps
approval. It was difficult to say.
 
Tate
let go of Cathlina’s hand as he focused on Mathias.

“Is this so?”
he asked, more to Cathlina than to Mathias. “What did he do?”

Cathlina was
back to smiling broadly, her gaze nothing short of adoring on Mathias. “When we
were in town with Father a few days ago, a man tried to abduct Abechail,” she
told Tate. “He just lifted her right out of the wagon and tried to make off
with her.
 
I tried to stop him but he was
too big for me to fight. I cried for help but no one would come.
 
Just as I thought all was lost, Mathias
stepped in and saved us. He was wonderful.”

By this time,
Tate was listening seriously. “What did you do?” he asked Mathias.

Mathias tried
to downplay his heroism. “A fool half out of his mind tried to take the little
one,” he said, rather quietly. “It was not as great a feat to stop him as she
implies. Sebastian took the fool out back and put him in the stocks.”

“Is he still
there?”

“He is.”

Tate cocked
an eyebrow. “Then see his is properly punished.”

“He has been
in the stocks for two days, naked to the elements.
 
I have left his punishment to Sebastian who
seems to take fiendish glee in torturing the man.”

Tate cracked
a smile. “I would believe that,” he said.
 
“Still, you shall be properly rewarded for assisting my cousins.
 
What would you have?”

Mathias could
see Cathlina standing a few feet away, her lovely face upturned to him, her
eyes alight with admiration.
 
The first
thing that came to mind was a serious request; Cathlina was here and his mind
was on the tournament and his very reason for wanting to compete. She was
looking at him with such respect; he wanted to see that in her face when she
looked at him, always.
 
What was taken
away from him, perhaps he could gain back just a little. Tate could do that for
him.
 
He could also deny him. There was
only one way to find out.

“What would
you be willing to give?” he asked deliberately.

But Tate
wasn’t catching on, at least not to the seriousness of the question.
 
He shrugged his shoulders. “Money?” he asked,
then looked around the stall. “You do not seem to be in any need of money. What
else is there?”

“The
tournament.”

Tate looked
at as if confused by the statement. “What about it?”

“Let me
compete.”

Tate
continued to look at him as if the words had no impact on him, as if it was the
most common question in the world.
 
But
when the statement finally did sink in, he lifted his eyebrows.
  
Then, he turned to St. Hèver , who gazed
back at him with his usual stony countenance.
 
Tate gazed at Kenneth, pondering Mathias’
request, before cocking his head curiously.

“What do you
think, Ken?” he asked. “Shall we permit it?”

Kenneth
seemed to be fighting off a grin. “I am not sure,” he said. “I am not entirely
sure I want to be pummeled today.”

“Nor am I,”
Tate said. “But it would make it a good deal fun.”

“It would,
indeed. It would make the pummeling worth every moment.”

Tate’s gaze
lingered on Kenneth a moment longer before returning his attention to
Mathias.
 
It was evident he was weighing
the request and the serious implications of it.
 
Finally, he simply shook his head.

“As much as I
would like to permit it, I do not believe it would be a good idea,” he said
quietly. “You are Mathias de Reyne. Everyone knows who you are and what you
represented, once.
 
Hearing your name
would drive those loyal to the king mad with want to kill you, or worse – it
would drive those who had been loyal to Mortimer into thinking perhaps his
cause was rising from the ashes.
 
It is
too soon for your name to be known again, Mat. I am truly sorry.”

Mathias
wasn’t surprised at the response but he was disappointed.
 
Still, he struggled not to react.

“As you say,
my lord,” he said, holding up a good front that it didn’t matter. “Mayhap you
are correct in your reasoning. One can never know.”

Kenneth came
out of the shadows, approaching Tate. “I do not agree with your assessment,” he
said, sounding very much as if he was pleading on Mathias’ behalf. “Everyone
knows that Edward is soundly in control of England. Mathias is just one of the
many knights who fought against the king.
 
The country is united now and so is the kingdom. It is time to forgive
and Mathias’ presence in the tournament today will reinforce that we are all
united now for Edward.”

Tate looked
at Kenneth, fully aware that the man was siding with one of his dearest
friends.
 
The words were coming from the
heart, not the head.

“Mayhap that
is true,” he said, “but there is a greater possibility that knights who fought
for Edward are competing today and they will make every effort to kill
Mathias.
 
Like it or not, he still
represents Mortimer.”

Kenneth
wasn’t usually so verbal.
 
He was
normally the strong, silent type, but the subject matter had him running off at
the mouth.

“I fought for
Edward and I do not want to kill him,” he reminded Tate quietly. “I think you
are giving too much credence to the hatred bred by men.
 
Above all, Mathias is one of the greatest
knights this country has ever seen regardless of who he sided with.”

“Ken,”
Mathias put a hand on Kenneth’s shoulder, pulling the man away from Tate before
the friendly discussion grew heated. “He is correct; mayhap it is still too
soon for me. He is trying to keep me out of danger as he always has.”

“You can take
care of yourself,” Kenneth said frankly. “If I, Tate or Stephen had been in your
position, I can say without a doubt that we would not have submitted with the
grace and honor you have displayed throughout this ordeal.
 
Mat, your greatness cannot be contained
forever. At some point, you are going to have to emerge into the light again.
 
Why not start now?”

“Because of
what Tate said,” Mathias said, pointing to de Lara. “What if it is too soon for
men to forgive? Mortimer and Isabella not only usurped the rightful king but
they also murdered the king’s father.
 
People have not yet forgotten about that.”

Kenneth, who
as more consummately cool than any man alive, threw up his hands in a fit of
emotion. “If you truly believe that, then why did you side with the bastard?”

Mathias kept
his composure, although it was beginning to fracture. “You
know
why.
 
He was my uncle. I
had no choice.
 
In order to please my
dying mother, I promised her that I would support her sister’s husband.”

Kenneth knew
that but suddenly, emotions were raw again and it was as if the past year of
healing had been stripped away. He felt pain and sorrow again, but instead of
arguing about it, he went with his nature and shut his mouth.
 
The past could not be undone, anyway.

With a heavy
sigh, Kenneth turned away, catching sight of Cathlina as he did so.
 
He had forgotten she was there, as they all
had. The subject they had discussed in front of her was a volatile one and the
expression on her face suggested she was perhaps as deeply entrenched in the
subject matter as they were. It was, in truth, a passionate and fascinating
story, not one easily ignored. When Kenneth locked gazes with Cathlina, she pointed
at Mathias.

“Who…?” she
began, then reconsidered the question. She started again. “Mathias is not a
smithy?”

Kenneth
turned to look directly at Mathias. He was looking at Cathlina, too, having
completely forgotten she was there.
 
He
felt like an idiot.
 
She had heard all
that he hoped she would not hear and now he would have to explain it to her and
pray she understood.
 
But somehow, he was
more apt to believe that she would flee the stall and never look back.
 
Already, he felt the sorrow of her departure but
before he could answer, Tate replied for him.

“He is not a
smithy,” Tate said quietly. “Mathias de Reyne is one of the greatest knights I
have ever known.
 
We served together for
many years before the madness between Edward and Roger Mortimer and, as you
heard, Mathias sided with Mortimer.
 
Because of this, he was stripped of his titles and lands, and has found
a living now as a smithy.
  
He is one of
my greatest friends and one of the truest, most honorable men I know. You were
very fortunate that he came to your aid, Cathlina.
 
He is a very great man.”

Cathlina’s
eyes were wide as she gazed at Mathias, digesting what Tate had told her. The
truth was that she was overwhelmed with it all; it was too much information,
too important and severe.
 
Her head was
starting to swim with it.