The Fallen One (7 page)

Cathlina sighed impatiently. “I mean that
this man saved Abechail and me yesterday from certain harm,” she said,
gesturing at Mathias. “I went on an errand this morning to thank him.
 
He is quite trustworthy, I assure you.”

Beauson wasn’t convinced. “Why did you not
tell me or Dunstan so that we could escort you into town?”

She didn’t want to tell them the truth; it
was that she hadn’t wanted anyone to stop her from going.
  
She backed off somewhat, frowning.

“If I had wanted anyone to escort me, I
would have asked,” she said. “Now, go over there somewhere.
 
I will gather my horse and join you in a
moment.”

Beauson eyed her a moment before eyeing
Mathias.
 
“I cannot leave you, my lady,”
he replied. “I have orders from your father to bring you home.”

“You are not leaving me alone,” Cathlina
said testily, slithering off of Mathias’ horse as he held her arm to gently
ease her to the ground. “I have asked you to move away so that I may thank my
escort and gather my horse. I do not wish to do this with you hovering over me
like a hung dog.
Go,
Beauson. That is
a command.”

Beauson sighed heavily, looking to Dunstan,
who was the bigger yet less bright of the pair.
 
Dunstan shrugged and was already moving away, snapping to the men at
arms as he went.
 
They were all shuffling
back down the road in a group except for Beauson; he remained. He seemed to be very
interested in Mathias.

“Who are you?” he asked.

Mathias opened his mouth but Cathlina cut
him off. “I told you to move away,” she said, pointing an imperious finger to
the group already down the road. “You will not ask his name. It is none of your
business and if you do not move away, I will tell my father you were most
disobedient and… and
very
naughty. Do
you understand me?”

Beauson cleared his throat loudly, an
unhappy gesture, and reined his horse sharply back, going to gather with the
group that was now lingering about thirty or forty feet down the road.
 
As the wind whipped and the rain began to pick
up, Cathlina gathered the reins of her palfrey and made sure Beauson was out of
earshot before facing Mathias.

He was still mounted on his horse, looking
down at her with an expression between utter pleasure and utter longing.
 
Cathlina could read emotions on his features
and her heart began to beat strongly in her chest. She was feeling so many
things that it was difficult to voice them but she was coming to realize that
she was more than likely not the only one sad at their parting.
 
Though Mathias had always been very polite
and very kind, he’d never given her any indication that he might be
romantically interested in her. Until now; she could see it on his face.

“Thank you for everything you have done,”
she said softly, sincerely. “You saved my sister and I yesterday and I will
always be grateful.”

He smiled faintly, feeling a tremendous
pull.
 
Those big brown eyes were sucking
him in, swirling him in the maelstrom of her beauty until he was dizzy with
it.
 
He truly couldn’t stomach the
thought of never seeing her again but he knew to carry on any relationship with
her would have been extraordinarily unwise. She was a de Lara. Still, it was
hard to resist a pull he’d never felt before and a lady he very much wanted to
know.
  
Torn, confused, his
disappointment was palpable.

“You are more than welcome,” he said
quietly. “If you should ever need saving again, please do not hesitate to send
word to me.”

Her grin broadened. “Are you my savior,
then? Do you plan to make a career out of it?”

He laughed, leaning forward on his saddle
so he could be closer to her, however small the gesture. “I would do it quite
happily, but I hope you will never again need saving.
 
To save you means that you will be in some
manner of danger, and that I could not abide.
 
I would not ever wish that for you.”

She gazed at him seriously, her smile
fading. “What will you do now, Mathias?”

“What do you mean?”

“Will you return to shoeing chargers for
the tournament? Or will you mayhap travel to Italy again someday and relive the
days of your youth?”

He shrugged.
 
“If I go, it will not be alone,” he said, a
twinkle in his eye. “Mayhap I will take you along so I have someone to talk
to.
 
Sebastian can be such a bore and all
he wants to do is chase women.”

She laughed. “I will not chase women, I
promise,” she said, sobering.
 
Her brown
eyes glimmered at him. “If you go again, I do hope you will consider taking
me.
 
It would be a lovely thing to travel
with you, I am sure.”

The conversation was coming to a close;
Mathias could feel it. They were floating along on sweet, dreamy words,
bordering on flirting, and he was scrambling for things to say, feeling a
desperation he’d never felt before.
 
He
didn’t want the moment to end.

“Do you have plans for any more trips into
town?” he asked. “If you do, mayhap you will do the honor of another visit some
time.”

Cathlina could feel the desperation, too.
She didn’t want to leave him but she knew he had to return. She could feel the
stares of her father’s knights on her back, heated and questioning.
 

“Father has made mention of coming to see the
tournament that will take place in a couple of days,” she said. “We will be in
town then and mayhap I will see you at that time.”

Mathias’ thoughts were running wild.
We will be coming to see the tournament
.
He began to think all manner of foolish things at that moment. In fact, he
could hardly contain himself.
 
Reaching
down, he took her hand and kissed it softly.

“You will see me at that time,” he said
quietly. “Have no doubt that I will find you.”

Cathlina felt his kiss down to her toes.
 
Other than her father and grandfather, a man
had never kissed her, and certainly not in the sweet and warm way Mathias had.
Wide-eyed, she watched him turn and ride off, wind gusts and rain pelting him
as he went.
 
In fact, the rain was
falling fairly steadily and she had to wipe it from her eyes as she mounted her
palfrey, but she hardly cared.
 
Mathias
the smithy had charmed her, had listened to her, and had finally kissed
her.
 
That was all she cared about.

Even when her father spent an hour yelling
at her for being foolish, she considered the crime well worth the cost.

CHAPTER FIVE

    
“We were stripped of
our knighthood,” Mathias said steadily. “We were told never to pick up arms
again. We were never told at we could not compete in tournaments.”

    
Justus was beside
himself; as the storm raged outside and sunset turned to night, he stood in the
middle of the warm, smoky stall he shared with his two sons and listened to the
eldest spout nonsense. He was truly at a loss for words.

    
“Have you gone mad?”
he hissed. “You cannot compete in the tournament!”

    
“Why not?”

    
Justus threw up his
arms. “Because you are no longer a knight and only knights can compete!”

    
Mathias shook his
head. “I am a warrior,” he said in a tone that suggested no debate. “That can
never be taken from me.
 
I have had my
titles and lands removed, but not my heart. I can compete and I can win.”

    
Justus stood there
with his mouth hanging open.
 
He finally
shook his head, twitching-like, as if his entire body was in an uproar. “Where
has this come from?” he demanded, his gray hair swishing back and forth. “Since
January one year ago, you have been quiet and obedient. You have never as much
as lamented your fortune, Mathias, although if anyone had a right to, you did.
Sometimes I wondered if you even cared.
 
Now you want to do something foolish and reckless that could land us all
in the Tower? I do not understand you!”

    
“It is not foolish and
reckless.”

    
“It is!”

    
As Justus told Mathias
just what he thought of the man’s inclination to compete in the coming tournament,
Sebastian was listening, too. He had been since he had heard his brother’s wild
idea. He was all for doing something disobedient, but he was frankly surprised
that his brother was. Mathias was usually so dutiful.
 
He began to suspect why his brother wanted to
compete and further suspected that the lovely Lady Cathlina de Lara had
something to do with it.
 
He had begun to
suspect his brother’s attraction to the woman earlier in the day but now it was
all but confirmed. It was amusing, really. He’d never known Mathias to care
about a woman;
any
woman.

    
“Mat,” he interjected
as Justus worked himself into a fit. “Do you recall that knight who passed
through here about six months ago, the one that died while we were repairing
his armor?”

    
Mathias turned his
full attention to his brother. “The one stabbed in the tavern brawl?”

    
“The same.”

    
“What about him?”

    
Sebastian came out of
the shadows, unfolding his big arms as he looked at his brother. “We still have
all of his possessions,” he said quietly.
 
“Do you recall that we kept them because no one came forward to collect
them?”

    
A light of
understanding came to Mathias’ eyes. “I do indeed.”

    
Sebastian faced his
brother seriously. “Father is correct; if you really do want to compete, you
cannot do it as Mathias de Reyne,” he said. “But mayhap you can do it as Sir Chanson
de Lovern.
 
We have everything he left – his
shield, most of his armor, his joust equipment.
 
We even have his saddlebags that contained letters regarding the death
of his father, the Earl of Banbury.”

    
Mathias’ features
registered the brilliance of his brother’s suggestion. “I remember,” he said. “Where
are his items?”

    
“Up in the loft, I
think,” Sebastian said, looking at Justus. “Isn’t that where you put his
possessions, Da?”

    
Justus growled and
began shaking his head. “I tried to sell them.”

    
Sebastian nodded
impatiently. “I know you did, but you never managed to because no one could
afford it,” he said. “The equipment is expensive and well-made, and there is
plenty for Mathias to use and pose as Banbury’s heir.”

    
Justus threw up his
arms again as if beseeching the heavens. “Now they are both mad,” he exclaimed.
 
He looked pointedly at Sebastian. “You
cannot do this!”

    
Mathias and Sebastian
were quite calm about it. “Aye, I can,” Mathias said. “No one will know it is
me. I will make sure of that. Sebastian, bring down all of that gear from the
loft and let me take a look at it. As I recall, de Lovern was taller than I am
but not as wide. We will have some adjusting to do.”

    
Sebastian went off in
search of the stored items. Justus, meanwhile, was doing less ranting as the
reality of what his sons were planning began to sink in. Now, he was becoming
frightened.
 
He knew what Mathias and
Sebastian were capable of; he’d seen it too many times.
 
Mortimer had depended upon that cunning and
determination too many times to count.
 
Aye, he knew what Mathias had in him; the man was a beast in disguise.

    
“Mathias,” he said
quietly; raging wouldn’t do any good so perhaps calm reasoning would. “Lad, if
you are found out, you know what trouble this will be for you. Why risk it?”

    
Mathias was over by
the enormous bellows, looking at a half-finished broadsword they had been
working on for a local baron. It was a beautiful piece that the baron had paid
handsomely for, but it wasn’t finished.
 
Justus had the skill to make beautiful swords and this one was one of
his finest works.
 
Mathias pulled it from
its cage and inspected it closely.

    
 
“I have been thinking,” he said, somewhat
quietly. “Mayhap Sebastian has been right all along. Mayhap it is time to
redeem ourselves.
 
A tournament is a safe
place to start; I will not be picking up a sword or bearing arms in the course
of war.
 
It is essentially a game of
skill.
 
With the money I win, mayhap….”

    
Justus was extremely
interested. “Mayhap
what?
”

    
Mathias looked at him.
“Hugh Beaumont is looking for men,” he said. “We can relocate to Scotland and
fight those wars the Scots constantly fight.
 
The money will help us redeem ourselves as knights and as men, and we
can mayhap marry and have families and homes.”

    
Justus was astonished.
“Marry?” he repeated. “Mat, you have never expressed an interest in marriage,
ever.”

    
“I am interested now.”

    
Justus stared at him,
mulling over his statement and remembering the very beautiful young woman
Mathias has spent the afternoon with.
 
Suddenly, it was all starting to make some sense.

    
“That girl?” he said.
“Has she asked you to compete?”

    
Mathias frowned. “Of
course not,” he said. “For all she knows, I am a smithy and nothing more. She
has not asked anything of me.”

    
“But she has put ideas
in your mind,” Justus pressed. “Has she spoken of marriage?”

    
Mathias put the sword
down. “Da, she has not said or done anything,” he insisted. “But I would be
lying if I said she has not made me realize what has been taken away from
me.
 
If my lands and titles had not been
stripped, I could command a bride as fine as her, but in my current state… nay,
she deserves more than a smithy.
 
She
deserves a man who can provide for her in a manner in which she deserves.
 
With a wife like that, I could take on the
entire world and win. She would make me proud again.”

    
Justus’ heart hurt as
he listened to his son speak of things he hadn’t spoken of since that dark
January day.
 
He’d always suspected Mathias’
thoughts but to hear the man speak of them was heartbreaking. He’d lost so very
much in a circumstance that had been both unjust and unfair, that had seen some
men retain everything and some men lose everything. But it had been the way of
thing.

    
“You will regain what
is yours again someday,” Justus said softly. “Alberbury Castle and Caus Castle will
be returned to you as will the Westbury Barony, and you will once again be
known as Baron Westbury, High Warden of the Northern Marches.
 
When enough time passes, Edward will soften
and you shall regain what is rightfully yours.”

    
Mathias was looking at
the sword, half-finished, in its iron cage. “I do not share your confidence,”
he muttered with sadness in his tone. “My mother was the sister of Roger
Mortimer’s wife, Joan.
 
When Mortimer and
the king became at odds, I had no choice but to side with my family.”

    
Justus could feel the anxiety
beginning. “You did what was expected.”

    
Mathias snorted. “I
left my friends, my king… I sided with a usurper because he was my family.”

    
Justus’ jaw ticked as
he watched his son, seeing the tension in the man’s body as he spoke. “Edward
understands,” he insisted softly. “That is the reason he did not kill you when
Mortimer was captured.”

    
Mathias’ jaw ticked as
he looked at his father. “He did not kill me because he was my friend,” he
said, his teeth clenched. “That fact and that fact alone was the only reason he
did not put us all to the blade.”

    
Justus suspected that
a year of remaining silent on the subject of losing his knighthood was about to
come to a head. Mathias was working himself up and Justus hastened to ease the
man.

    
“Tate and Kenneth and
Stephen pleaded for your life,” he said quietly as Mathias began to pace. “They
all love you, lad. You were spared because they understood your reasons for
siding with Mortimer. It was not because you wished to see Edward dead. It was
because Mortimer is your uncle by marriage.”

    
Mathias’ eyes flashed.
“Wished the king dead or not, siding with Mortimer killed my knighthood. Edward
might as well have put me to the blade. I was dead the day I swore fealty to
Mortimer.”

    
“You are too hard on
yourself.”

    
Mathias’ jaw ticked
furiously. “Nay, I am not,” he said, leaning on a post near the great and
scarred anvil. “I am not hard on myself at all.
 
The truth is that I should have been smarter; I should not have let
family ties influence me to side with a man I knew had no right to rule
England. I should have stayed with my king… and now see what my judgment has
cost me.”

    
Sebastian picked that
moment to enter the room, his arms full of equipment, but Justus held a hand up
to still him.
 
Mathias was letting loose
his emotion and Justus didn’t want Sebastian interrupted something that was
long overdue.

    
“This too shall pass,”
Justus insisted softly, urgently. “The tides of politics change as frequently
as the seasons. Soon, you shall have your life restored to you. Edward is wise,
lad. You have friends in very high places. The name Mathias de Reyne means
something.
 
Your castles will be returned
to you, as will your titles and lands. But it will not happen if you defy the
king by bearing arms in a tournament or fleeing to Scotland to fight in their
foolish wars.
 
You must be patient.”

    
“I
am
patient,” Mathias roared in an
uncharacteristic display of rage. “Da, I have worked my entire life to achieve
greatness few men do.
 
It was taken away
from me, mayhap justly or mayhap not. In any case, I have been patient for
these long months, watching other knights ride through this dirty little
village and knowing my greatness far exceeded theirs once… God’s Blood, once…
once I was the man all men fear. I want that back.
 
Now, I see something I want very badly and
all of those things I lost those months ago… I want it back, because I must
have it in order to have
her
.”

    
So it
was
the girl. Now they had the crux of
Mathias’ change of heart. Justus’ gaze lingered on his eldest a moment before
turning to look at Sebastian.
 

The redheaded knight was still standing in
the doorway, watching his older brother have a moment of weakness. He had heard
most of the conversation.
 
But, unlike
his father, he was unwilling to talk Mathias out of competing in the
tournament.
 
He wanted to see his
brother’s greatness restored, too, because if Mathias was great again, then he
and Justus would be as well. Moreover, he wasn’t very good in dealing with
emotion so it was better to move past it quickly.