The Bachelor Knight Part 4

What had happened? Upon waking from the most glorious night of his life, Beren had sensed that all was not well with his wife, but all had not been well with himself either. And he had chosen to struggle with old demons along the cliffs, rather than talk with her. Returning euphoric from that foray, all his past doubts banished, Beren had not stopped to wonder what Guenivere was thinking. Yet all the confidence in the world mattered little if she still thought him unworthy.

The notion angered him, even now, and he urged his mount forward. But was it anger-or pride-that sent him on? Beren slowed his pace as he sought an honest answer, and he well remembered the harsh p.r.i.c.k of her words. Yet he could hardly hold himself blameless. Just because he had conquered his fears, did not mean that all in his life, especially his newly minted marriage, would be well. He had not taken the time to discuss anything with Guenivere, let alone the long years of their parting. During their night together, she had accused him of betraying her faith. Did he expect one night of pa.s.sion to heal all wounds and cure all ills?

Beren shook his head at his own folly. Granted, he had been rushed because of the summons, his mind wandering to his own demesne and potential troubles awaiting him there. But in doing so, he had invested little time in that which had come to mean the most to him: his union with Guenivere. How could he have been so careless?

Not only had he failed to probe her own feelings, but he had neglected to mention his own as well. In their last, bitter meeting, he had not told her of the doubts that had long kept him from her, or of the love that swelled within him now, eager and constant.Until tested .

Frowning, Beren admitted that her cool dismissal of his plans had hurt his still-tender pride. But it was that foolish vanity that had kept him away before. Had he learned nothing? She had been cold at their parting, but what of the night before when she had melted in his arms, when she had cried for what might have been between them?

Beren remembered those moments, and his uncertainty grew. Would he abandon his marriage over a few sharp words? Would he return to his own lands and find that pressing business always kept him from going to face his wife? He had sworn not to be ruled by old doubts, so why was he heading away from Brandeth? Was it duty or despair that moved him?

All his life, Guenivere had been the force that drove him onward, the greatest height for which he aspired, the dream that he held close. And now that all was within his reach, would he throw it all away without at least attempting to make things right? His mouth tightening with determination, Beren held up his hand and called to his men. He had no idea what pressing problems called to him from his demesne, but they would have to wait.

He had more important things to do.

six.

Guenivere stood atthe window of the solar, looking out into the distance, though she wasn't sure what she sought in the windswept heights. She certainly didn't expect to see Beren. He had been gone already a day and a night and nearly another day, yet Guenivere felt her sense of loss growing, not decreasing.

Drawing a deep breath, she searched for the composure that had stood her so well these last few years, but she no longer seemed able to muster it. Unable to face the people she had always coveted as her own, Guenivere kept to the solar, disdaining all company. Was it any wonder she felt so sad and alone? But even as she would delude herself, Guenivere knew it was not Alice or any other resident of Brandeth for whom she pined.

She could not understand the return of the old, familiar feeling of missing Beren when this time she had wanted him to be gone about his business, leaving her free to run her father's keep. Yet, somehow her heritage no longer seemed as important as it once had. Yes, Brandeth was important to her, but without her father, she had no one here to tend, to love and cherish. If only she had a family of her own! But 'twas too late for that, Guenivere thought bitterly, unless Beren's seed had taken root.

Gingerly, she touched her stomach, hoping against hope that she might carry his child, and a flush rose in her cheeks as a certain joy dispelled her gloom. But then what? Would she raise the babe alone? Guenivere's heart pounded out a denial, but what other choice had she left herself?

And if there was no child?

Suddenly, Guenivere couldn't bear to think of the long, lonely years ahead, so different from what she had planned with cool calculation. She had thought herself independent, needing no one let alone a man to order her about. She had summoned Beren only in a desperate effort to save her lands and the way of life she had known. At least, that is what she had told herself. Now, Guenivere wondered if something else hadn't prompted her decision.

Perhaps, in her grief at her father's pa.s.sing, she had reached out blindly to the only other person she had ever loved. And he had come, reluctantly at first, but determined to take her to wife in good faith. Yet, instead of embracing this new chance for happiness, Guenivere had turned away, unwilling to risk her heart again.

Or so she had told herself. Lifting a hand to her mouth, Guenivere made a low sound of anguish as she recognized the truth, at last. Despite all her claims to the contrary, her heart was already engaged. It had been since the first time she had seen Beren the boy, and not all the years since or their long separation had diminished her feelings.

"Are you well, lady?" The sound of a voice made her turn in startlement, for so sunk in her gloom had she been that Guenivere had not heard anyone enter the chamber. For one wild moment, she thought to see the subject of her thoughts, Beren, but it was only one of the knights of the keep, eyeing her in question.

Irritated by the intrusion, Guenivere straightened and tried to recover her poise, though she knew her eyes were damp. "What is it, Sir Crispin?" she asked as she recognized the older knight. He had no love of those of ign.o.ble birth who sought to better themselves at his craft, including Beren, and Guenivere wondered if he were celebrating her husband's departure. At the thought, a tear loosed and slipped down her cheek.

"My lady! You are not well," Crispin said, looking alarmed. "Please sit down, I will call one of your handmaidens."

Crispin had good cause to be anxious, Guenivere thought, for ever she had hidden her yearning and her grief from her people, unknowingly distancing herself from them as well. Perhaps it was time to rejoin humanity. "Nay. Do not call the ladies to me, for they can do naught for what ails me. No one can. Have you not heard, Sir Crispin?" Guenivere asked. "My husband has gone away."

Her words seemed to stun him beyond speech. She might have laughed had her heart been less heavy.

"M-my lady, I do not understand. I thought this marriage of yours 'twas simply an alliance born of necessity-and one beneath you, as well," Crispin said, stiffly.

"I forgive your confusion, for I did claim to act for my people, when selfishly, I wanted Beren back and used whatever means necessary to bring him here," Guenivere said. There, she had admitted her hidden purpose aloud, and felt the better for it. Perhaps now she ought to tell Beren himself.

Sir Crispin's look of bewilderment gave way to a fierce expression. "He has dazzled you, lady, with his new t.i.tle and power, but those are the things he values. He left you behind swiftly enough to increase them!"

Perhaps her plain speaking had encouraged his own, or his feelings for Beren had overcome his judgment, but Guenivere could not understand Crispin's sudden agitation. Nor could she let him continue in his mistaken belief that Beren had abandoned her once more. "And yet, I could have gone with him, as he wished me to," she said.

Sir Crispin appeared even more stunned. "My lady! Your place is here, not off with some upstart urchin who would set you aside for his own advancement."

Guenivere lifted her brows at this open insult of her husband, and more subtly of herself. "You would make my decisions for me now?" she asked.

Crispin looked uncomfortable but determined. "I know only that Berenger Brewere is naught but an orphan of lowly birth, a brewer's brat unfit to kiss the hem of your gown!"

"You forget yourself, Sir Knight!" Guenivere said, coolly. "I will hear no slander against my husband."

Crispin sent her a dark look, his face grim. "A husband who is gone, never to return, for thus have I proven his fealty!"

At Crispin's words Guenivere went cold. She had sensed something was not right in his manner and speech, but had blamed his old rancor against Beren. Now, she remembered the strangeness of the summons that Beren received, including her suspicion that the message was not real. And she wondered whether Crispin had been the one to manufacture it.

"And just how did you prove Beren's lack? Did you have something to do with the urgent call back to his lands?" Guenivere asked.

Crispin's face grew ruddy, but he did not demure. "I will not lie to you. lady. I had another feign the message that called him away. But I did it for you, lest you think he has changed, far he has not."

"You appear privy to much of my husband's mind. You know him well then?" Guenivere asked, her tone venomous. Here was a bitter discovery indeed, for she and Beren had enough difficulties, without suffering the malicious interference of another.

"I know him, yes, for what he is, a nameless riffraff who sought always to take the place of his betters!"

"And think you I care for your opinion?" Guenivere asked.

Crispin flushed, but made no apology. "Who else would save you from yourself? Berate me if you will, but I could not stand to see you debase yourself again for that wh.o.r.eson, who so easily forgot you and the lord who raised him up! Your father would-"

Guenivere stopped his speech with her own. "He would have summoned Beren back long ago, had I allowed him, but I let my foolish pride stand in the way of happiness. And now I am suffering for the sake of your ill-placed vanity, as well, when I should not."

"But-"

Guenivere cut him off with an imperious wave of her hand. "Bid a train be readied for me, so I might go to my husband and beg his forgiveness for my behavior and your own!"

Crispin looked as though he would keel over from apoplexy, but Guenivere tendered him no sympathy. Perhaps, she and Beren could have worked out their problems had they been given more time to do so, time they would have had, if this knight had not taken it upon himself to challenge their fate. Now, she could only try to make amends for even more mistakes. For, if Beren returned to his lands only to find the message was false, he would lay the blame at her feet.

"Surely, you cannot mean to leave at this hour?" Crispin asked. "Perhaps, I acted out of hand, but do not endanger yourself, my lady, I beg you." Now, at least, the old knight seemed sincere, and Guenivere stole a glance out the window where the sun was sinking low, making travel unwise.

"Tomorrow then," she said, although she despised the delay. "But send out a messenger at once to tell Sir Brewere of my coming. Unless you cannot be trusted to do my bidding?" Guenivere asked the question coldly, letting the old knight see her displeasure. He deserved far worse for his treachery, but she would leave his fate up to Sir Berenger Brewere, Lord of Brandeth.

"By your command, my lady," Crispin said, bowing low, though stiffly.

"For now," Guenivere said.

It waslate by the time Beren reached Brandeth. He had to rouse a sleepy guard at the gate, who sent them through with both surprise and welcome. Would that he would receive the same, or better, from his lady, Beren thought. But whatever Guenivere's greeting, he was not leaving until all was settled between them, one way or another, and all that needed to be spoken was said, he decided grimly.

a.s.suming that her door was barred for the night, as well it should be, Beren again walked through the bailey to look up at her window. He had no intention of entreating her through a wooden barrier, so once more, he climbed the stone face, familiar now, and by the time he reached the opening, he was flush with the exhilaration of his ascent. Lifting himself up and over, he dropped to the floor inside her chamber.

This time, she was not expecting him, so she was abed. The memories of the night they had spent there washed over Beren, firing his blood and firming his resolve. Without hesitation, he pulled back the curtains and beheld her lying there, and her name escaped his lips like a prayer.

Although he had practiced his speech all during the ride back to Brandeth, the simple sight of Guenivere robbed Beren of his breath. He stood there, silent and staring, as she opened her eyes. For a long moment, they gazed upon one another. Finally, Beren forced his lips to move, but before he could utter a word, his wife flew into his arms.

Automatically, he drew her close, so startled by this unexpected response that he nearly wept against the silk of her hair. It seemed to Beren that the warmth of her greeting drove away a chill that had been lying on his heart for years beyond count.

"Beren! How came you here? Did you get my message?" she asked, raising her head to look into his face.

Beren shook his head. "Nay, I received no summons, except that of my own desire." He lifted his hands to her shoulders, holding her there as he watched her, willing her to see that he spoke the truth.

"I can't let you go, not after living my dream-if only for a night," Beren admitted. "You are all I ever hoped for, Guenivere, all I ever wanted, the sole reason for my striving and for any success I have had. And if you will accept me as your husband, now and always, I will stay here with you and give up my own lands, if I must, for they are nothing without you. My home is wherever you are."

Guenivere lifted her head to speak, but Beren went on, before he lost his courage. "I'm not good at saying things, else I would have told you all this before. In truth, though I have loved you since our first meeting as children, I was afraid to return for you, for fear that you would refuse me, that my ign.o.ble blood made me unworthy."

Beren paused to take a deep breath, before eyeing her directly. "No matter how much you might wish it, I am not Parzival."

"Oh, Beren," Guenivere whispered. "I always accepted you as you are. 'Twasyou who would not. 'Twas you who valued knighthood and money and lands, not I. And though I admit to a young girl's fascination with the romances, I did not want to marry any of those heroes. Nor did I seek to make you into one. I only wished you to see that you could do anything with your life that you wished, and you did, succeeding beyond imagining!"

Smiling tenderly, Guenivere lifted her hands to cup his face, as if to make him listen to her, as well. "Forgive me for letting you go away, but I was afraid, too, of risking my heart. 'Twas not until you left that I realized I had never stopped loving you. But then and now, I wanted only you, the real you, the boy I knew and the man he became, not some fanciful hero."

Beren felt as if the weight of the world had slipped from his shoulders, leaving him no longer bound to the earth-like a man who has climbed the highest heights. He nearly threw back his head and laughed with the pure pleasure of this triumph, greater than all others.

" 'Tis glad I am to hear you say so, for I am no hero at all, real or imagined. Although I tried to emulate your ideal, I have fallen sadly short, I am afraid. I never found the Grail or a lost father or even a royal uncle," Beren said, with a crooked smile. "But I discovered one thing," he added, taking her hands in his. "That all the adventures and achievements in the world are worth little without love. Those long years without you were but half living, and I am thankful to have made my way home at last."

Guenivere kissed him then, a sweet, gentle communion that promised far more. "Despite all your

protestations to the contrary, you would have done Parzival proud," she said. "Indeed, there is only one thing missing from this happy ending, my lord."

"What is that?" Beren asked, a bit warily.

"We have no twin sons to awaken and welcome you home," she said, referring once more to her favorite story. But Beren did not mind the comparison, for his heart was too full. He grinned.

"We'll work on that," he promised. And so they did.

end.