A Dishonorable Knight - By Morrison, Michelle Page 0,160

by now and they are on their way to tell Tudor all they can about my troops!"

Catherine's eyes were wide with fear and surprise at seeing Richard nearly mad with rage. Bowing quickly, she backed out of the room as fast as she could. Once outside the room, she leaned against the cold damp wall and tried to stop her trembling. For an instant in there, she had thought to visit the executioner at dawn. Now that she was safely out of Richard's sight, she realized that his rage was directed at Elena and she smiled. Straightening from the wall, she began humming a tuneless song as she walked upstairs. Perhaps it does help to tell the truth, she thought.

Chapter 32

Elena was going to drop out of the saddle if she rode one more league. Was it but a few hours ago that she had thought she'd never be able to sleep? She now felt as though she could fall asleep in the narrow culvert that ran next to the moonlit road. "How much longer to the inn?" she asked wearily.

The two soldiers who had ignored her thus far looked at each other and then returned their attention to the road. The ever-polite guard--did he have a slight accent? Elena was too tired to decide--urged his horse up next to hers and said, "We should arrive any moment, Lady. Do you think you can last a few more minutes?"

There was a definite lilt to the man's speech, Elena decided. Not bothering to answer his question (after all, she had to go on whether she thought she could hold out or not), she posed one of her own. "Are you Welsh? Your accent reminds me of my recent visit there."

One of the unfriendly soldiers turned in his saddle and stared at Elena and the third man. Disgusted with his ill manners and physically exhausted, she did not suppress the urge to stick her tongue out at him. The rude man turned back around and Elena returned her gaze to her companion just in time to see him hide his look of unease at her question behind a broad grin. "I am from all over England, lady. I've traveled so much that I don't remember where I'm originally from."

"Well, you sound Welsh," she replied. "Though your are a bit taller than most Welshmen."

"There you have it. For I am indeed tall. Perhaps I'm a Viking. I understand they are a tall breed."

"So I've read. But they are also a large people and you are rather scrawny to fit their mold."

"Scrawny? Lady, you wound me to the quick!" By the cool light of a nearly full moon, she saw him grab his chest and pretend to be injured.

Elena laughed and thought that, while he might have reminded her earlier of Gareth, he now seemed very much like Cynan. Suddenly realizing that she did not know his name, she requested it.

"My name is David, good lady, at your service." He executed a little bow and leaned toward her. In a conspiratorial whisper, he added, "And I am a good sight more fun than those two up there, as, I can tell, are you."

"Even though you escort a fallen favorite of the king's into exile?"

"The king's loss is my gain."

Elena laughed again and decided she would make it another league or so. Nonetheless, she was relieved when they came round a bend in the road and found the small inn perched beside the road. The windows were dark, but the brusque guards pounded on the wooden door until the innkeeper answered.

"We've need of rooms."

The old man in his nightshirt and cap rubbed his eyes and surveyed them.

"Now old man."

Elena wondered if Richard was aware that the training of his troops was greatly lacking in chivalry and patience. It occurred to her that lately, Richard himself was greatly lacking in chivalry and patience. The old innkeeper moved back to allow the men to enter and as David passed he said, "Many thanks, good father. Though my comrades are too exhausted to say it, we are very sorry to wake you from your well-deserved slumber."

Elena, spurred on by David's courtesy, smiled at the surprised old man and added, "Yes, we thank you for your service." Again she was amazed at the response that small phrase seemed to evoke in people. First Annie the seamstress, now this innkeeper.

With white nightshirt billowing, the old man deposited the two surly guards in a dank room at the back of the