A Dishonorable Knight

Chapter 23

"You shall have a pillow for your head tonight, sweet lady," Gareth said as they rode through the southernmost streets of Nottingham.

Elena roused herself from her thoughts and turned in the saddle. "We're not continuing on?" It was only mid-afternoon and she had grown accustomed to riding until dusk allowed just enough light to set up camp.

"No," Gareth answered. "We'll have a short day of riding tomorrow as it is. There is no need to exhaust ourselves today especially when I have money enough for a rich meal and a soft bed," he said, jingling the coins in their leather pouch which hung from his belt.

"I want fish for supper," Elena said, sitting up a little straighter in the saddle.

"Fish?" Gareth asked, wrinkling his nose.

"Yes, it's the meal most different from dried beef!"

Gareth laughed. "You've been eating dried mutton."

Elena turned her head and lifted an eyebrow. "Do not even attempt to convince me that there is a difference between the two."

Elena looked around at the small shops and houses they were passing. As they made their way further into the city, the small buildings grew closer and closer together until they were stacked nearly on top of each other. Though she could sense Gareth growing unease with the crowds and the shops, she was familiar with this city. She had spent many hours attending Lady Elizabeth as they shopped for fabrics and furs. Though she had previously been attended by numerous guardsmen and attendants, Elena still felt comfortable as they entered the teeming city.

"I suppose we will have to find an inn soon," Gareth said, more to himself than Elena.

Taking charge, Elena said, "That will be simple. There are several reputable inns very near each other."

Gareth sighed, obviously relieved that he would not have to try to decide on their accommodations. "Very good. Which way do we go?" He had reined in Isrid at a central marketplace into which dumped at least five crooked streets.

"I have no idea."

"Then how do you know there are several reputable inns in the same area?"

"I have spent much time in Nottingham. When I was attending Lady Elizabeth, we would oftentimes rest in the inns in between shopping bouts instead of returning to the castle."

"Well if you spent so much time here doing what you do best, then how is it you have no idea where we should go?"

"I will recognize the street once we are on it," Elena said defensively.

"That doesn't do us much good now, does it?"

Incredulous, Elena turned as much as she could in the saddle. "Well then perhaps you'd like to find us a place to stay, Sir I-don't-need-to-ask-for-directions!" Though it had been a while since Elena had used one of her well-honed imperious looks, she managed to execute it flawlessly and Gareth was squirming uncomfortably within seconds.

"Alright, I'll stop and ask where this mythical street you remember is. Do you at least know the name of the street?"

"Of course I do. Ask for West Dover Street."

Gareth swung off of Isrid and handed Elena the reins to both horses. He entered the shop nearest them, a solicitor's office. As Elena waited, she became aware of the stares of passers-by. Glancing down to see what they were looking at, she realized that she was still wearing Gareth's clothes, which were much wrinkled after a week's wear. Dismayed, she lifted her hand to her hair and found it equally mussed. Elena was mortified. It was enough that she had spent the past weeks looking like a scullery maid. Then she had at least an excuse. She had only her one gown and in it she had been dragged through mountains, streams, and dirt. But now she had a clean new gown sitting in her satchel while she was decked out like a stable boy! Sitting up straight, Elena lifted her chin. No matter, she thought, trying to convince herself. These people are still commoners at heart while I am a lady, regardless of my appearance. Her upraised chin would tell them just that, she decided, besides making it impossible for her to see their critical appraisal of her. Thankfully, Gareth returned within the minute.

"'Tis just a few streets over," he said, taking both reins from her hands and leading the horses up the street.

"Why are you walking?" Somehow, she had thought the people's stares would not seem quite so unbearable if Gareth were sitting behind her.

"My legs have about had it for riding. I thought I would work out the kinks in them by walking. It's not so very far."

Elena glanced surreptitiously from side to side. Although the amount of people out on the street decreased as they left the central market, she still felt as if she were on display sitting so high up on Isrid. Without another thought, she threw her leg over Isrid's rump and shimmied off of the warhorse's high back, landing awkwardly on the uneven cobbled street. Gareth whirled around at her grunt as she landed.

"Elena, are you alright? What's wrong?"

She straightened, trying to ignore her throbbing ankle, which had landed in a pothole. "I believe I will stretch my legs as well."

"You should have told me to stop the horses. You could have hurt yourself."

I did, she thought. "I'm fine," she said. "But let us hurry. I wish to bathe and change clothes as soon as possible."

"Of course. And you will have water as hot as you can stand it, that I promise."

Elena smiled, remembering his promise to buy her a new dress as they were entering Aberstwyth. "And you do keep your promises."

Gareth looked at her, a pleased expression crossing his face. "I do everything in my power to keep them."

"Then promise me a down-filled tick and freshly scented linens."

"I said I do everything in my power, Elena," he said with a laugh. "That, I am afraid, we will have to leave to the grace of God. I think we will be lucky to settle for a straw tick that has relatively few bedbugs!"

"Ugh! If that is the case, then I will hold you to your promise of hot water."

"The hottest!"

They reached West Dover Street within a matter of minutes and Elena immediately recognized where they were.

"Excellent," she said. "If we turn up here, there are at least four inns within two blocks of each other. If we go right, there are two more inns, and several pubs where we might get an excellent meal."

"So which way do we go? Do you have a preference on where you spend you last evening with Sir Gareth?"

Startled, Elena looked at him sharply, a worried frown creasing her brow. This was to be their last night. Why had she not realized it? As she stared at him, Gareth flushed. "I didn't mean...I just meant that this would be the last time you would have to put up with...Which inn do you wish to stay in?"

Torn from her thoughts by his question, she looked up the street, trying to remember which inn had served them best when she had come with Lady Elizabeth and the other ladies-in-waiting.

"I believe the third inn up here has the cleanest rooms. They are also rarely full, if I remember correctly."

"Then let us proceed there immediately. I am glad for your sake if they have clean accommodations, but do you recall if they had good food as well?"

Elena laughed. "Yes, I believe it was most satisfactory." With a devilish grin she added, "I believe their best offering is fish." She was rewarded with a look of horror on Gareth's face.

They walked up the tidy street and paused at a hanging wooden sign that declared it to be the Inn of the Lion's Heart. Gareth peered in the open door. "Shall we?"

Elena hesitated. The last time she had entered this inn, she had been dressed in a gown of blue silk, a necklace of gold inset with sapphires about her neck, her hair intricately braided and wound about her head. As she glanced down at the wrinkled and travel-stained tunic she had thought so practical just a week ago, she knew she could not enter that inn, regardless of whether or not the innkeepers recognized her.

"Let us go to another inn."

"What? Why? This seems like a perfectly acceptable place to stay."

"No, I don't think so. Why don't we go to one of the inns near a pub. That way you can get a real meal."

"I don't understand why we can't stay here and still go eat at one of the pubs." Gareth studied her distraught face. "Elena, what's wrong? Tell me truthfully, now."

Elena paused. How could she possibly make Gareth understand that a lady had her pride? She looked into Gareth's eyes and reminded herself that he had been remarkably tolerant these past weeks. Deciding to put her faith in him she said, "Suppose they recognize me?"

"Recognize you? What do you mean? Why should they recognize you?"

"Because I have been here several times before."

"Good! Perhaps we will get better service." Gareth moved to enter the inn.

"No!" Elena said, grabbing his tunic and pulling him back.

"Elena," he said, exasperation evident in his voice. "What is it? Why should it matter if they recognize you or not?"

"Because," she hissed, "if they recognize me, they will no doubt notice what I am wearing and that I am traveling alone in the company of a man who is obviously not my father! Should word get back to court of such behavior, I would be ruined."

"Oh," Gareth said, comprehension dawning on his face. "Then where should we go?"

Elena gestured down the street. "I never attended either of the two inns down the street."

"Then in one of those inns shall we lodge."

They trudged down the street in the lengthening shadows of the summer sunset until they came to the first of the two inns.

"Will this do?" Gareth asked Elena.

She studied the small inn. The sign hanging over the door declaring it to be The Lamb' Quarters was not painted as brightly or adeptly as the previous inn's, but the inside appeared to be just as neat, and Elena was certain she had never stepped foot in it before.

"This is fine," she said with a nod.

"Let's go, then." Gareth started forward but again Elena stopped him. "Wait!"

"What is it now?"

"I can't go in there looking like this!"

"What do you mean? I thought you said you've never been in here before? Why will they care if you aren't dressed for high court?"

Elena stomped her foot. "It's not that I'm not in a court dress. It's that I'm not in any dress. No respectable lady goes around in men's hose and rough tunics!"

Gareth dropped his head back and stared at the darkening sky. When he rolled it forward again, he asked, "What would you have me do, then, Elena? In order for you to change, we need a room. In order to get a room, we have to go inside and pay for one. Since you can't get to the room without going inside the inn, I fear we are at an impasse."

Elena gave her coldest glare. Gareth sighed wearily. "Very well. I will go in and obtain a room. You wait out here with the horses. Try not to be noticed. We wouldn't want anyone from court hearing that you had sunk so low as to wear a practical riding outfit. After I obtain the room, we will go around back and stable the horses. You can then sneak up the back stairs if they have back stairs. Will that suit you?" She nodded meekly. "Good!" was Gareth's response.

He returned in a few minutes and led the horses down a narrow alley to the small stable behind the inn. Fortunately there was a rickety back staircase and by the time they had attended the horses and made it upstairs, there was a small wooden tub of hot water awaiting them in the room. Elena quickly stripped and stepped into the shallow tub, glad for the tingling of the hot water on her feet and calves. Why was it, she wondered, that bathing in hot water had become the exception the past two months? So absorbed was she in her bath that she did not notice Gareth who, after depositing their scant luggage, sat on the edge of the bed, his right elbow on his knee, his chin cupped in that hand. It was only when she stood, her hair dripping, her body cooling from the hot water that she realized that Gareth was studying her intently.

Since the first night they made love, Elena had not experienced embarrassment or awkwardness in Gareth's presence. Now, for some reason, she felt shy and at a distinct disadvantage as she stood knee-deep in water while Gareth watched her, his eyes dark with something deeper than passion. She reached for the thin piece of linen that was to serve as a towel. Rather, she thought about covering herself. Her arms refused to move. In fact, her whole body seemed to have turned to marble. It was as if she had just laid eyes on Gareth, and he her.

Slowly, Gareth rose and time seemed to slow as he crossed the few steps that lay between them. The pale blue light of encroaching dusk from the small dirty window was the room's only illumination. It made everything in the room, including Gareth, seem ethereal and not of this world. As he grew closer, all Elena could see of him were his eyes, their grey depths nearly black in the dim light. When they grew too close to focus on, she closed her eyes and awaited his kiss. When it came, it was feather-light as it skimmed her lips, her damp cheeks, her warm neck. With each meeting between his lips and her skin, his kisses grew bolder and when they returned to her own mouth, they nearly seared her.

Without a word spoken between them, Gareth scooped Elena up into his arms and crossed to the low bed that was the room's only furnishing. As if his reminder that this was their last evening together was foremost in his mind, he made love to her with an intensity and boldness that left Elena senseless. In their previous bouts of lovemaking, they had given and taken equally. But tonight, Elena felt as if Gareth were another man. He was clearly in charge of her passion and her body. Gone tonight were any of his endearing boyish qualities like when he had asked her approval of this kiss or that caress. Tonight he was a man confident in his abilities, confident that he would wring out of her passions and emotions she would feel with no one else.

They still had not spoken near an hour later when they finally arose in the near total darkness of a summer's eve. Gareth quickly bathed while Elena struggled into her gown unaided. She combed her hair with her fingers, wishing she at least had the hairpins necessary for the simplest of fashion's coiffures. She would have to settle for a plain braid down her back. As she began plaiting her still-damp tresses, Gareth's voice stopped her. "Don't. Leave it loose."

Elena turned to him, surprised. "But I don't even have a veil to cover it."

"I don't want it covered." When she still hesitated, he continued, "Please, Elena. Let me enjoy your beauty one last evening. Surely word will not reach Richard's court that you went to supper with unbound hair."

Elena shook her hair loose and raised her eyebrows at Gareth. "Better?"

He pulled his shirt over his head and smiled. "Perfect," he said softly.

As they made their way down the narrow front staircase, Gareth took Elena's hand in his own and tucked it into the crook of his arm.

***

Supper in the Henry Billingsley pub was more than adequate to make up for their week's worth of eating camp food. Glad that in the noisy and crowded pub no one seemed to notice her, for women generally did not eat in public rooms. She ordered a second portion of the savory stew and helped herself to a large slice of Gareth's meat pie. The thick mug of ale placed in front of her was delicious and she drained it not once, but twice that evening. And when Henry Billingsley himself placed a plate of hot and crusty currant tarts in front of her, she felt it would be churlish in the least to turn them down. By the time they left the boisterous crowd in the pub, Elena felt as though she would burst from food and her head was pleasantly fuzzy from the strong ale. In fact, so pleasantly fuzzy was her mind that she did not notice that Gareth remained glumly silent as they made their way up the darkened street to their inn. Once in the small upstairs room, Elena giggled helplessly as she tried unsuccessfully to unlace her houppeland. Throwing her hands up in mock despair, she gave up and flopped face down on the bed.

Gareth tossed his shirt onto the small pile of luggage in the corner and said, "Come Elena. You can't sleep in your gown. Stand up and let me help you remove it."

"No," said Elena, her voice muffled by the pillow.

"You will be much more comfortable once you do."

"No."

Gareth sighed. "Why won't you stand up Elena?"

"Because I can't find my arms," she said with a giggle.

"That's probably because you're laying on top of them. Here," he said, grabbing her shoulders and rolling her over. "Now can you find them?"

"Oh yes," she said expansively. Lifting them up, she threw them around Gareth's shoulders and pulled him down on top of her.

"Elena!" Gareth tried to sound severe, but the laughter in his voice won out. He never would have thought to see the regal Lady Elena tipsy. Would she never cease to amaze him? Rolling off of her and standing, he pulled her to her feet and began unlacing her gown. She wobbled on her feet but seemed content to remain still while he hung her gown on a hook on the wall and then removed her chemise. She held onto his shoulders while he tugged off her boots but when he moved to stand up, she fell over, her torso draped against his back. Gareth paused, uncertain if she were playing or merely passed out. "Elena?" he called. When her only answer was rhythmic deep breathing, he wrapped his arms around her legs and stood, her body limply draped over his shoulder. He carefully deposited her on the low bed and drew the covers up. Minutes passed as he watched her sleep, memorizing every curve of her face, which was illuminated by a shaft of moonlight. As he looked on her, he was reminded of another night when he had tried to imprint her beauty in his mind: the night she had ridden to warn him of the traitorous abbess. Then, as now, he had feared losing her, though now the fear stemmed from the thought that he would have to watch as she married the repulsive earl, see her grow round with his child, wondering if the child were the earl's or his own.

Gareth wished there were another option to tomorrow's short journey. The voice in his head, which had been silent for days, now awoke to taunt him and remind him that had he spoken his heart a week ago, he might now be wed to her and safely in Wales. Or she would have rejected him and it would be easier to erase her from his mind and his heart. Well, perhaps not easier, but at least his pride would not have allowed him to pine for her the rest of his days. Gareth sat on the edge of the bed as the series of weights tied round his neck and shoulders settled back into their places. For the past week he had shoved them aside, forbidding them to mar his time alone with Elena. Now they were back, heavier than ever and clamoring for his attention. Worry, guilt, and apprehension bowed his shoulders and he rested his head in his hands and prayed for assistance--something he could not remember doing since he was a child.

Some time later, he kicked off his own boots and climbed into bed, pulling Elena to him and holding her tightly as he waited for the dawn.