Lespada (46 page)

“That did not help me in the least,” he told them. “Let me try again. Who is Isabella?”

One twin pointed to the other.  Davyss’ smile grew and he held out a hand to the little girl. “Isabella, would you like to sit with me?”

Isabella took a timid step forward but Angela was faster.

“I want to sit!” she announced, plopping onto her bum.

Davyss nodded with approval. “Thank you, my lady,” he said sincerely. “I do not like to sit alone.”

Isabella fell to her knees, grinning at him when he looked at her.  Then she inched forward.  Angela, seeing that her sister was moving closer to the enormous man, inched forward also.  Isabella suddenly launched herself into Davyss’ lap and he grunted as the child hit him in the chest and groin.

The girls giggled as he groaned.  Davyss ruffled the hair of the child in his lap, thinking they were indeed lovely little girls.  It made him think of the child Devereux had lost and he felt a brief stab for the loss, but nothing more.  He hadn’t really thought about a family with many children until this very moment, but with two little girls sitting on his lap, he realized he could come to like it very much.

Devereux peered from a crack in the closed tent flap, watching the interaction between Davyss and his girls.  It made her heart swell to see him speaking to the children, his manner gentle and warm.  She smiled as she watched the child in his lap pop up and accidentally ram him in the chin.  When he fell over, mortally wounded, the girls pounced on him with squeals and Devereux laughed softly at the sight.   He was going to make a wonderful father to their own children and suddenly, she wasn’t so terribly hurt over their loss.  Watching Davyss with his girls oddly eased her. She was confident there would be others, just as he was, and very much looking forward to it.

Thoughts of hazel-eyed children were her last coherent idea before the world turned painfully, abruptly black.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Dayvss didn’t wait to be admitted entrance.  He charged into the king’s solar in the White Tower, ramming aside a knight who had been foolish enough to try and stop him. 
Lespada
was flashing wickedly in his hand and he gored the next man who came at him right in the chest.   The ancient blade of the de Winter male line dripped with blood.

People were screaming and running as Davyss, followed by Hugh, Andrew and Philip, charged into the room and slashed anyone who got in their way.  At the other end of the chamber sat Simon, calmly watching his godson wreak havoc.  He had been expecting this moment and was prepared.  As Davyss approached him, sword aloft, Simon merely lifted an eyebrow at him.

“If you kill me, you shall never know where she has gone,” he told him.

Davyss was indeed mad enough to kill; he had killed at least three men who had tried to bar him from the Tower and injured countless others.  Dressed to the hilt in complete battle armor, he was formidable and terrifying. It was de Winter at his worst. He came to an unsteady halt several feet from de Montfort, flipping up his visor to display blazing hazel eyes.

“Where in the hell is she?” he boomed.

Simon glanced behind his godson, seeing the carnage and destruction left in his wake.  Servants were dragging away the dead knight and others were helping the wounded. He could hear people weeping and groaning.  He sighed heavily and refocused on Davyss.

“She is perfectly safe and unharmed,” he told him evenly. “She will be my honored guest for a time. I insist.”

Davyss’ jaw ticked violently. “Give her back to me or I will tear this place apart.”

“Tear it apart and you will never see her again.”

Davyss’ jaw stopped ticking and his hazel eyes widened. “Why?” he demanded, sounding more like a plea. “What in God’s name have I done that you would do this to me? I gave you what you wanted; I swore my fealty. Why would you take my wife?”

There were several armed knights in the room, men that had rushed in to protect de Montfort from Davyss’ rage.  But Simon sent those men away with the flick of his wrist, unafraid of Davyss’ wrath. He knew his godson was hot headed and rash, but he wasn’t foolish. He knew that
Lespada
would not end his life.

“Send your men away, Davyss,” Simon said quietly. “I will speak only with you.”

Davyss turned to the heavily armed men behind them, sending them off with a nod of his head.  They followed the path they had taken when they had entered, leaving the room in disarray and chaos.  When the last of the injured had been removed and Hugh quietly shut the door, Davyss turned to Simon.

“You had no reason to take her,” he told him, sounding more hurt than angry. “I want her back. I need her back.”

Simon lifted his hand. “Davyss, Davyss,” he murmured, sing-song.  “Sit down before you fall down.”

“I will not. I want my wife back immediately.”

Simon sighed heavily, looking up at him.  After a moment, he rose wearily and Davyss took a step back; Simon was wily and cunning. He didn’t trust that the old man wouldn’t have a dagger wedged in his palm somehow.  Simon saw Davyss back away and he smiled thinly.

“Davyss,” he paused, gazing into the younger man’s face. “I did not get where I am in life by being a fool. You know this.”

Davyss’ jaw was ticking again. “Tell me why you took her,” he asked hoarsely. “Just tell me why.”

Simon lifted an eyebrow. “You know why.”

“If I did, I would not be asking. Tell me.”

“Because people live longer when they do not completely trust their friends and family,” Simon tapped his right temple. “I know you, Davyss; lest you forget how well I know you. I know that you have always disagreed with my politics.  The only reason you swore fealty to me was to ensure your wife and family’s safety.  But I know, in your heart, that you do not truly support me.  Yet, if I hold your wife, it is insurance against you doing anything, shall we say, foolish.”

Davyss’ cheeks took on a ruddy glow. “You doubt my word of honor?” he hissed. “I am a man of my word; I always have been. If you do not trust me, then you should not have forced me to swear fealty.”

Simon shrugged as if to concede the point. “Yet I did, you did, and now you wonder why I have my doubts. I love you, Davyss, but it is better if I do not trust you completely. Surely you understand that.”

Davyss began to wonder if Simon knew of his meetings with his men, discussing plans to free Prince Edward from captivity.  But there is no way the man could know because Davyss knew his men; he knew they would never betray him, not even Hugh.  So he could only presume that Simon was going forward on caution and suspicion only.  He hated to lie to the man’s face but, feeling betrayed himself, he didn’t feel an over amount of guilt.

Davyss sighed heavily, studying Simon’s strong, wrinkled face. “I swore fealty to you and I shall honor that commitment,” he said. “There is no reason to hold my wife hostage to ensure my good behavior. She is… not well. I must have her back.”

Simon’s eyebrows lifted. “Not well? What do you mean?”

Davyss’ jaw resumed its nervous tick. “She recently miscarried our child. She has not recovered from that. I want her back, Uncle Simon. Please do this for me.”

It was the first time Davyss had lowered his guard. He was no longer the angry warrior but the begging husband.  Simon could see the young man, the young boy, the child he had once known in just those few words.  He began to feel some remorse but he fought it.

“I am sorry for you, my son,” he said softly, sincerely. “I promise you that she is in no danger. She is well cared for and looked after.”

“I want her back.”

“Perhaps… in time.”

Davyss’ jaw began to tick again, so hard that he almost broke his teeth.  Wearily, he removed his helm and planted himself in Simon’s chair all in the same gesture. Simon watched as Davyss held his head in his hands, a gesture of desolation and defeat.  What the old man wasn’t prepared for, however, was what came next.

Davyss began to sob.  Softly at first, but by the time Simon realized what was happening, Davyss was sobbing deeply and painfully.  Stricken, he went to the knight, wondering if attempts at comfort would be well met. He’d never seen Davyss show any measure of disappointment or sadness much less cry. He was beyond shocked; he was shattered.

“Davyss,” he whispered earnestly. “Nay, boy… don’t….”

“I want my wife,” Davyss sputtered, suddenly wiping at his face as if ashamed he had broken down. “You have no reason to hold her. I have given you everything you wanted, Uncle Simon. Why can you not give me back the only person that has ever meant anything to me? She has done nothing wrong. Why must you punish her?”

At the end of the chamber, the solar door creaked open and a small figure stood there, surveying the room with calculated eyes.  There was blood on the floor and Davyss was collapsed in a chair, weeping.  Lady Katharine knew the situation; although Davyss had not returned to Hollyhock before making his way to the Tower in search of his wife, she had heard through Davyss’ soldiers what had happened.  Lady Devereux had been taken from Davyss’ encampment and her son was bent on murder.

So she stepped into the chamber, her fine slippers making their way through the blood smeared on the floor, her cane making a rhythmic thumping as she moved across the wood.  She could see Simon standing over Davyss, who seemed truly distraught.  She was nearly upon them by the time Simon heard her.

He turned sharply, only to be faced with a furious woman. Although her expression hadn’t changed much from its normal countenance, he knew just by looking in her eyes that she was livid.   Davyss looked up, saw his mother, and lowered his head into his hands again.

Katharine’s hazel gaze lingered on her shattered son.  Then the wise old eyes moved to Simon, who visibly stepped back from the woman.  If looks could kill, then he would be a dead man.

“I told you to leave his wife alone,” she muttered. “You did not listen to me.”

Simon stood his ground. “I told you why.” 

Davyss’ head shot up, his wet eyes accusing at his mother. “You knew what he was planning?” he demanded. “You knew and you did not tell me?”

Katharine lifted a thin eyebrow at her son. “Be still,” she hissed, returning her attention to Simon. “You and I will come to terms before I leave this room or you will leave more than your share of blood on the floor. If you want a valuable hostage to ensure de Winter support, then you could have done much better than Lady Devereux.”

Simon’s expression flickered with uncertainty. “What are you saying?”

“Me, you fool,” she snapped. “You will take me and release Davyss’ wife.”

Davyss closed his eyes and hung his head again as Simon staggered. “I will not,” he gasped. “You… you are….”

“More valuable than that young woman by leaps and bounds,” she jabbed a finger at him. “I carry the wealth of the de Winter empire, you idiot. She carries nothing but my son’s affections.  You will release her immediately and take me instead.”

Simon stared at her.  Then he walked away; he had to.  Katharine was a tiny woman but her presence was overwhelming him until he could hardly breathe.  He paced several feet away and came to a halt, turning to face the pair.  Davyss was still hanging his head, sniffling now and again as he stared at the floor.  Lady Katharine stood next to her son, more powerful at that moment than the mighty Davyss de Winter could ever hope to be.