A Dishonorable Knight(131)
"Sir Jasper, your protestations of what We must or must not think do not endear you to Us. They do, in fact, lead Us to wonder if you are in league with this man." Sir Jasper opened his mouth to speak, but Richard stopped him. "We will hear no more. Guards! Take this man into custody. He is no longer one of Our knights." Turning, Richard walked around the table and resumed his seat. Gareth felt as if there were no blood, no strength in his limbs for he could not move them. Could not even feel them. When the two guards grabbed him by his arms--two guards he had helped train--he was unaware of their painful grasp or that Richard was stripping him of his knight's chain. Though all else was a blur, Gareth saw the pained look on Sir Jasper's face as he left the hall.
The two guards said not a word to him as they led him out of the main hall to a stone tower where the prisoners were normally kept. One of the guards addressed a captain who was just coming out. "Sir, His Majesty has another traitor for the tower."
"Well you'll have to take him to the cellars below. We've no room for the prisoners we've got. I sent a man to the cellars just this morning with two prisoners. He will still be on duty and can take this one from you." The captain sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I wish we could get these men tried and either hung or released. We've too many men spending time on guard duty instead of preparing for war. The king must be--" The man stopped as if suddenly realizing who he was talking to. "Go about your business now," he said brusquely.
Gareth's guards dragged him back to the main keep and hauled him down a flight of stairs that had not seen much maintenance. The stones were cracked and slippery with dampness. One of the guards cracked his head on a low hanging beam and cursed abruptly. When they reached the dank-smelling cellars, a feeble torch illuminated the guard's post where a beefy man dozed on a three-legged stool, his head leaning against the damp stone walls. His snores were interrupted when one of the guards kicked the man's stool.
"Wake up you lazy oaf! We've another prisoner. Stand up and open one of the cells."
The groggy man saluted and fumbled with the keys at his waist. "Here," he said, gesturing to the wooden door in front of him. "This one was emptied this morning when the king ordered the man's execution." He opened the door and stood aside while the other two guards pushed Gareth into the cramped cell. Gareth stumbled in the darkness, coming to land on a musty smelling pallet of straw. The door slammed shut behind him and he heard the bolt slide home.
The two king's guards berated the man for his appearance and demeanor before leaving. Gareth heard the beefy guard grumble about their treatment as he settled himself back on his stool. Within seconds, the snoring had resumed.
Gareth wedged himself in the corner of the small room, sitting on the old straw pallet. He forced himself to think of the one thing that would not drive him insane with worry over his imminent execution. He forced his mind to conjure Elena and the way she had rushed back to kiss him. He allowed no other thoughts to enter his mind but those of their passion-filled trip from Wales, the all too short nights they had spent in that tiny room in Samuel's house. He refused to think of the bugs he was now bedding down with and the way the axe would look as it whistled through the air on a collision course with his neck. He thought only of Elena.
Chapter 28
Elena awoke the next morning wondering if she could convince the Countess of Salisbury to ride through the bailey again so that she might catch another glimpse of Gareth. She had just finished dressing and was waiting for the young servant girl to finish with her hair when there was a knock at the door.
"Enter," Elena called, but Catherine, who was having her hair washed, called out angrily, "No, do not enter! Elena, if you do not mind, I am not prepared to receive anyone."
"For heaven's sake, Catherine, it's not likely to be the pope calling for confession. What matter if a page sees you with wet hair?"
"It is not seemly and I, if no one else in this room, am well aware of the importance of behaving in a seemly manner at all times."
Elena almost smiled at the crudely delivered insult. Catherine was referring to her weeks spent with Gareth. More than once had Catherine implied that Elena could not be a true lady after allowing herself to spend nights on the road alone with no chaperon. Elena had managed to grit her teeth and say nothing, knowing that was the only way to deal with someone like Catherine, but now she had remained silent long enough.