Part 22 (2/2)
She realized that he actually intended to do it. He was going to risk his life to spare her humiliation, though he knew that she had no virtue remaining to defend. Such was the requirement of his code of honor, which she had not properly appreciated before.
The party returned. The Goth chief had agreed. There was nothing the Goths appreciated so much as a good fight, and it was certainly an easier way to settle matters than a siege.
The n.o.ble girt himself and rode out on his fine horse with only his squire in attendance. He trusted the honor of the Goths. They would not be able to hold their heads up among their own kind if they ma.s.sacred a single knight after agreeing to individual combat. Indeed, their wagers were being laid out; they were genuinely enthusiastic about this spectacle.
Teensa watched from the ramparts, terrified. She realized that if the n.o.ble lost, the castle would not even be defended, and there would be horrible ransacking and rapine. But if he won, all would be salvaged, and the disaster that had seemed unavoidable would be avoided. It was a brave and bold thing the n.o.ble was doing.
The opposing horseman approached. The Goths were proud of their horsemans.h.i.+p; they had defeated the Romans because of it, and were the terror of the open ranges because of it. It was hard to see details, but the motions of the horses as they spun about each other were clear enough.
Light flashed. It was the reflection of the sunlight from moving steel. Now they were at swords, striking from their steeds. Then one steed went down. It was the Goth's horse!
But immediately the other rider dismounted and pursued the fray afoot. Strike and counterstrike. Teensa hardly dared look, but could not avert her gaze-and saw little anyway. There was too much dust.
At last one warrior fell, and the other stood. Who had won?
Then the standing one was helped to his steed, and rode toward the castle. It was the n.o.ble! They had been saved! Something snapped in Teensa then, and she was so relieved she wept.
The n.o.ble had indeed won. The Goths respected a valiant winner, and though they could not applaud an enemy, they let him depart unmolested. They packed up and moved away, hardly marauding at all. They really didn't have to; there were other estates close by, so they could keep their word and honor at little inconvenience. The castle and lands had indeed been spared.
But then news came that the n.o.ble was injured. The Goth champion, outhorsed, had been a veritable tiger afoot, and had slashed away the n.o.ble's armor and part of his left shoulder before being killed by the terrible counterstroke. The n.o.ble had kept his feet and made it to his horse, holding his head high, and the Goths had respected his courage even more. But he was grievously wounded.
Teensa came to him. ”I am versed in healing,” she said, and indeed she was, for she had tended her father's injured servants many times. She washed and bandaged the shoulder, and sat beside the n.o.ble in the dark hours while the fever took him, and held his hand when he cried out with the hallucinations of that fever. It was a long vigil, but in time, thanks to her ministrations, he recovered.
He slept long, and at last awakened. He found her there beside him. ”Thou hadst no need to do this,” he said.
”Thou didst save my father's possessions, and his honor,” she said. For had she been made the plaything of the Goth chief, her father would never have survived the shame. ”I owed thee.”
”Nay, I owed thee! That was why I did it.”
”Then mayhap we are even,” she said, turning her eyes demurely down.
”We can never be even,” he said. ”But I would do anything for thy forgiveness for that of which I cannot speak.”
”Why?” She was genuinely curious; but more than that, certain things he had uttered during his fever-madness had surprised her and provided her an astonis.h.i.+ng hope. Should he repeat the like in this hour of his sanity- ”Thou art fair. I knew thee not, but now I do.”
That was the verge of it. Her heart fluttered. ”I forgive thee.”
He extended his hand, and she took it. ”I would marry thee, if thou couldst trust me that far.”
And that was the whole of it.
”Aye.” Then she leaned over the bed and kissed him.
When her father returned, the castle was in good order, and the visiting n.o.ble was recovering from his wound. After the initial ceremonies, the visiting n.o.ble and Teensa approached her father. ”I have been indiscreet with thy daughter, and would marry her, that her honor be never in question,” the visitor said.
The n.o.bleman turned his gaze on his daughter, frowning. ”Did this rogue force himself on thee?” he demanded.
”Nay, father. I love him, and would marry him.” And with that half-lie she committed herself. She had protected his honor, and hers, in the manner expected of a wife.
”Then I am constrained to consent,” her father said. Then he smiled. ”In fact, I deem it an excellent match.”
She hugged him, and he nodded. His ploy had succeeded in repairing damaged honor, just as the visiting n.o.ble's ploy had succeeded in saving the estate. This was the one man who would never challenge Teensa's chast.i.ty at the marriage bed. Indeed, he would draw his sword on any person who even hinted that she was anything but perfect. No one but the host n.o.bleman ever knew the whole of it-except perhaps Teensa's maid, who was wise in the ways of these things, and knew when to keep her mouth shut.
* 27 - THE STATION WAGON had pulled up and stopped, but the occupants did not get out. May waited a moment, then went there. Geode and none were within, and she was talking.
May approached, wondering what this was about. Then she caught on: none was telling another story!
”And so they were wed, and Teensa went to the n.o.ble's castle, and lived reasonably happily as such things went, and bore fine children, and learned to be less shy,” none concluded. ”All because she had kept her mouth shut and not been unduly influenced by her first impression.”
”But why did the visiting n.o.ble treat her so well?” Geode asked, perplexed. ”After what he had done-”
”He had done what a man did with a slops wench,” she said. ”But when he learned her true ident.i.ty, and her father put him in charge, he was honor-bound to serve the father's interest. It was part of the code of chivalry. So he did the best he could in an awkward situation. The father knew he would; it was the daughter who needed influencing.”
Geode nodded. ”We serve Mid like that.”
Then they became aware of May, standing beside the car. ”Oh-we're here!” none exclaimed, surprised.
”I wish I had been able to hear it all,” May said. ”I did enjoy your story yesterday.”
”Oh, May, we came to tell you-you don't have to stay here anymore!” none exclaimed. ”Mid said you could come to the house!”
But May shook her head. ”Thank you, none. But I think this is something I have to do.”
”But the monster-it runs three days between feedings, and this is the third day! Tonight it will come!”
”Yes, I suspect it will. But Cyrano is alert for it, and we need to catch it. If I can help by luring it in, that is what I must do.”
”Then I will stay with you, so that one person will always be awake!”
”No, none. You have lost too much already. It is my turn. I will be alert.”
”But I am doomed anyway! I should be the bait!”
”Doomed? We shall not let you suffer further, none. Go with Geode, tell him another story; I will be all right.”
The woman looked troubled, but let it be. ”You are a dragonfly, bold where I am afraid.”
”A dragonfly! How nice! But I am simply doing what I must; I am not bold.” Indeed, she reflected with horror on her inability to oppose her brute husband, even after three years on her own. How spineless could a person get?
So they left, reluctantly, and May was alone again. It was the way she preferred it, for now, until she recovered from her injuries and could show her face in public again. She did not relish another night alone here, but this was indeed their best chance to catch the firefly, and that was what they were here for.
Yet there was now another aspect, which had caught her completely unprepared. Frank Tishner had expressed interest in her. She knew that his marriage was in trouble; his wife had said that. It seemed likely that by the time the monster was dealt with, Frank would lose his job, because Mid's agenda would conflict with the needs of the local county. When Frank lost his job, he lost his wife; that much had been established.
She had not considered Frank as a prospect. Indeed, she had had no serious interest in any future liaison with a man; her experience with Bull had cured her of that sort of thing. Yet now that the subject had been, however inadvertently, broached, she found herself interested.
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