A Dishonorable Knight - By Morrison, Michelle Page 0,98

seated. "Bryant, do sit. Now please."

Hesitating only a moment, Bryant hurried across the small room and seated himself next to Elena, glancing shyly at her from the corner of his eye. More interested in Llywelyn's stories than Bryant's silly behavior, Elena turned back to the bookseller and promptly forgot Bryant's presence.

For the next four hours, Elena forgot not only Bryant's presence, but the hardness of her bench, the cramped tininess of the shop, and even the fact that Llywelyn was a mere merchant and under normal circumstances would not be considered appropriate company for a lady-in-waiting of the court. Elena lost all track of time as she listened to Llywelyn's stories. From time to time, the small man would push himself out of his chair and fetch a book off of this shelf or that. He piled dusty manuscript after dusty manuscript on Elena's lap and asked her what she thought of a particular passage or a bit of illumination.

Elena had considered herself more educated than the other ladies at court simply because of the fact that she could and did read. But her studies had never prepared her for immersion into the world of academia. She found herself at times overwhelmed by Llywelyn's questions and at other times, surprisingly comfortable thumbing through a thick volume while she told him what she thought.

They paused at midday and Elena sent Bryant out to purchase some fresh bread while Llywelyn heated a pot of mutton stew over his hearth. After lunch, they pulled still more books off the shelf, looking for accounts of the furthest reaches of globe. Cynan stopped in to see if she was ready to leave but Elena shooed him off. He turned to Bryant who replied that if Lady Elena was staying, so would he. Cynan shook his head in amazement and told them he would see them back at Samuel's that evening.

So intrigued with her rediscovered passion for books, Elena scarcely noticed when Bryant began to doze, his head nodding forward to rest on his chest. She did not hear his muffled snore as he slipped deeper into sleep. She did finally notice him the very moment he listed to the right and tumbled off the bench.

Setting her book down, Elena rushed to his side. "Bryant! Are you alright? What happened?"

Rubbing his elbow and blushing hotly with embarrassment, Bryant pushed himself to his feet. "I'm fine," he mumbled. "I just dozed off."

"Dozed off?" She looked out the thick window at the front of the shop. "Good heavens, what time is it?"

Old Llywelyn laughed, coughed, and laughed some more. "You don't know how many times I've asked that very question. You know you are a true book lover when you ask it, though."

"I had no idea we had spent so much time here. I--I can't buy any of your books." Elena cleared her throat. Never in her life had she been without money or some means to purchase something. With not a little discomfort, she apologized, "I'm very sorry."

"Nonsense, dear girl, nonsense. I haven't enjoyed myself in years and as you can see, I don't get many customers. Here," he said, pulling the Arabic book from the bottom of the stack. "I wish you to have this. To remember me by."

Elena's eyes widened. Though accustomed to receiving gifts from men, rarely had she been given such an expensive and extraordinary gift. Never had she been given a gift from a man, other than her father, who had not hoped to gain her favor or even her hand. To be offered a gift such as this from an old man who would never see her again overwhelmed her.

"I couldn't possibly." Were these words coming from her mouth? Of course she could accept it! "That book is much too precious and no doubt worth a great deal of money. You must keep it or sell it."

Llywelyn smiled and shook his head, thin white hair flopping about his head. "A book is worth nothing if it is not read and treasured. You may not be able to read the words, but you can read the illustrations and you will certainly treasure it."

"I don't know what to say." Wouldn't Gareth tease her about that if he were here? Remembering Gareth, she knew just what he would expect her to say, and while she still wasn't completely used to saying it, she took the book in one hand, Llywelyn's spotted hand in her other and said as sincerely as she could, "Thank you