A Dishonorable Knight(86)

They sat quietly for minutes, each absorbed in his thoughts, Gareth suffering under the burden of deceit; deceiving Elena now and deceiving Richard's entire court upon returning to England. With a humorless grimace, Gareth reflected on his perpetual guilt. Just a few weeks ago, he was suffering at the thought of abandoning his knightly vows to his king, despite his awareness that Richard was not the sovereign he should be. Then when Elena nearly died trying to reach them, he suffered overwhelming guilt that he had dragged her into their messy plans. And don't forget, Gareth reminded himself, how guilty you felt when you first turned Lord Stanley down for this distasteful task. Gareth sighed and adjusted the chip on his shoulder. Elena thankfully distracted him from further gruesome thoughts.

"Are you certain there will be a war?"

Gareth shrugged. "There will at least be a battle."

Elena nodded, watching Gareth closely. "Will you fight in it?"

Her question made Gareth's stomach clench. Of course he would fight in it, but how would he fight for his side? Go along with Richard's troops and then start massacring them from behind? It may be effective for a moment or two, but he would quickly be hacked to pieces. Not that he was afraid of dying, simply that he did not relish the idea of rushing to death's cold embrace without first kicking and screaming.

"Will you?" Elena's strained voice finally registered on Gareth and he realized that she was worried. For him? Did she not want him to die?"

"Undoubtedly. Does that bother you?"

Elena frowned and hesitated before answering. "Well of course it bothers me. I...I don't have any black clothes to wear for your funeral and I won't dye my new houppeland just so I can pay my respects."

"Hoope--land? What in the living world is that?"

"Not hoopey, houppe. A houppeland. That's what my new dress will be."

"What is it?"

Elena laughed at his apparently stupid question. "It's just a style--high waist, full skirt, big sleeves. Started in Germany, I believe. Surely you've seen them on ladies at court. Men too, actually."

Gareth looked at her in horror, hoping this was not a style knights would be required to wear. "Men are wearing houppelands?"

"Of course. Although not as full, and sometimes quiet short."

Gareth longed for his childhood in Wales where a rough tunic and comfortably worn leggings got him through year after year. "Who invents these ridiculous fashions?" Gareth asked peevishly, imagining himself trussed up in velvet, scarcely able to breath for a tight collar, sitting through an interminably long court.

"I don't know. The loomsmen, I suppose. It seems each new fashion requires more cloth than the last. There no doubt will be a day when it will require fifteen lengths to make a decent gown."

Gareth thought of the money he had spent on eight lengths of wool and fervently prayed that he never had daughters.

Elena stood and stretched. "Well, Sir Gareth, either we return to our temporary abode or you will be forced to buy me one of those lamb sticks from the square."

Gareth stood also, realizing that the sun was hovering just above the horizon. "Da said he was arranging for the evening meal tonight, so we'd best be heading back."

"Your father cooks?" Elena asked, incredulous.

"He cooks about as much as I do."

Elena wrinkled her nose. "That doesn't mean we're having that horrid dried beef, does it?"

Gareth laughed. "I think Da meant he was arranging for someone to cook food for us. I'm sure he's sparing us from dried beef since that's what all we'll be eating in a few days."

Elena moaned as Gareth took her hand and led her up the street. "Isn't there anything else you can take on a journey to eat besides dried beef? That stuff has no taste and is the consistency of worn boot leather."

"So you've told me every time we've eaten it. I'll see if Samuel has anything else we can take when we leave, but don't get your hopes up. Whatever we take has to last a good week without spoiling."

"Let's hurry home then," Elena said, picking up her pace. "I intend to gorge myself on edible food just in case dried beef is all we have for the next week."

Gareth laughed and allowed her to pull him along, content for the moment to concentrate solely on the feel of her hand in his, her smile as she turned her head to urge him along, and her wind-tousseled hair.

They reached Samuel's shop as the sun was slipping into the ocean, just visible in the distance from his doorstep. Gareth paused to watch it flatten and slowly sink, feeling the last rays warm his face with a golden glow possible only at this time of night. As soon as the uppermost edge had slipped away, the evening took on a cool blue light that was somehow suddenly quiet and peaceful. Closing his eyes, Gareth inhaled deeply, forgetting his burdens and absorbing all the peace of the moment. Elena was going to miss real food for a week, but he was afraid he was going to miss this feeling of utter peace for a great deal longer. He opened his eyes and looked up to see the first star of the evening twinkle above him. "Please be a good omen," he whispered before following Elena into the warm house.