A Dishonorable Knight

Chapter 22

They were up early the next morning and on the road by the time the sun cut its lazy path over the horizon. The air held the brisk, pungent fragrance of the last days of summer when every flower is in bloom, every leaf has unfurled, and the grass is at its tallest. Without a second thought, Gareth packed all of their luggage onto the shaggy horse he had purchased in Aberstwyth and settled them both onto Isrid's broad back. Elena again wore Gareth's clothes, content to relinquish her new gown for apparel infinitely more practical for traveling by horseback.

They chatted amiably throughout that day, and throughout the week following as they made their way across England. They were blessed with near-perfect weather, only suffering two days of rain as league after league disappeared beneath Isrid's hooves. To fill the hours, they told stories of their youth, shared dreams and hopes of their youth, and even admitted first loves and first broken hearts. In the evenings, Elena helped Gareth unload the horses and gather firewood. She even learned to boil water to soften their dried meat into a more palatable stew, their hard sausage having run out on day two. At night, they curled close to each other when the fire burned down to smoldering embers. If the nights grew cold, the lovers did not notice, so intent were they on the other's body, their own pleasure, and the heat they created.

Gareth would have been content to spend the rest of his days traveling. Not once did he notice the food he ate, the hardness of the ground on which he slept, or the discomfort of the slow, penetrating drizzle that doused them for two days. Later, all he could remember of that trip was Elena pressed against him in the saddle with his arm curled comfortably around her waist; her soft form in his arms night after night; their hours of laughter and shared confidences; and his marvel that she could have changed so much in two short months, going from spoiled shrew to pleasing companion. The only thing that marred the journey for him was the nagging voice in his head telling him he was a fool for remaining silent, reminding him that he was wasting precious time by not telling her he loved her, time that could be spent racing to Eyri Keep should her feelings mirror his. But never in their enjoyable days or passionate nights had she uttered one word of love, one word of encouragement that she desired any more than they already had.

Elena was reveling in the novel experience of saying and doing whatever she pleased with no worry as to how decorous she looked or how ladylike she sounded. It was a remarkably liberating feeling, she reflected, to be able to discuss with Gareth any topic that came to mind and know that he would answer all her questions and ask her some in return. Never once did he tell her that any of her comments were not befitting a lady of the court, or that she should not concern herself with things more suited to a man's brain. Elena had once thought the way she had coerced the men of Richard's court to her will through flattery and flirtation was power. She was now learning the power of using her own thoughts and ideas to change Gareth's mind. Though she was eager to return to Richard's retinue, she was torn. She loved the richness and the beauty of court with everyone on their best behavior: jewels glittering, velvets rustling, musicians playing, incense-filled braziers smoking. She loved dressing in a new gown to attend a sumptuous feast where men toasted her beauty and laughter filled the hall. On the other hand, she was dimly aware that she would not be able to act in court as she was able to here, in Gareth's company. She would have to return to being a nodding hen wit when the king addressed her, smiling sweetly to his rich but dusty old nobles who doddered around thinking they were ever so much more attractive to the young ladies-in-waiting than their sons and grandsons who were young and handsome and had all their teeth.

And then there was her fiancée. Of all the strictures and ladylike rules she would have to obey again once she stepped foot in Richard's court, meekly accepting the king's choice of her future husband was the one she dreaded the most. She was growing miserably certain that she would be unable to convince Richard to break off the engagement at this late date. By now Richard must have already received arms and the men to bear them from the earl's holdings. The king would be indebted to Brackley for his support and his advice and he would not risk them in the upcoming confrontation with Henry Tudor for the whim of a mere lady-in-waiting, be she favorite or no.

All that considered, she continued to fantasize about life at Eyri Keep. She thought of the evenings at Gareth's home spent embroidering by the fire with Enid while Morgan and Gareth discussed moving the flocks of sheep to a new pasture. She remembered the spontaneous festivals that were held for things as common as the birth of a new child or the successful harvest of a field of barley. On days when such an event had occurred, the good news spread like wildfire throughout the small keep, culminating in the kitchen where the three women who cooked for Morgan's household tried to outdo each other with culinary specialties. As they drew nearer to Nottingham and Richard's court, it became easier to imagine herself ensconced there permanently. Cynan had told her that she could have her pick of husbands should she chose to return to Wales, but Elena didn't want her pick; she wanted Gareth. Had he uttered one word of love or one tentative proposal of marriage, they would now be heading away from Nottingham, not toward it. But he remained silent, despite their most intimate exchanges. She felt she had changed and grown much since becoming separated from Richard's entourage all those weeks ago, but her pride would not permit her to fish for avowals of love from him, though she had much experience doing so.

And so they continued, each day drawing nearer to Nottingham. By the time they were on the outskirts of the city, a day's ride from the king's wartime residence, their conversation had become stilted, each submerged in his thoughts and worries for the future, each wishing the other would speak.