Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

Lioncross Abbey

B eckett's funeral was surreal.

That was the only way Roi could describe it.

Upon their arrival to his ancestral home, Roi immediately went to the abbey in the sub-levels beneath the keep. It was in the dark recesses of the abbey portion of the castle where they stored things, mostly foodstuffs or other things in need of cold spaces. But the truth was that they also stored bodies down there, if needed, because it was the perfect environment. It was cold and surprisingly dry.

This was where Roi found his only son.

He left Diara and her cousin in the great hall of Lioncross and proceeded to visit his son alone, something Diara had encouraged him to do from the onset. He was coming to see, if nothing else, that she was a very understanding and compassionate individual, more than likely because she'd received none of those things whilst fostering during her formative years. In fact, Diara seemed to be quite sensitive to what he was feeling or what his needs might be, as she had demonstrated on the entire journey from Cheltenham.

It had been a two-day journey that passed pleasantly enough in spite of what they had left behind and what they were moving toward. They had only discussed Robin twice, and that was shortly after they left Cicadia. Roi was half expecting the man to send his knights out after him, but no army and no knights were forthcoming. That was both a relief and a concern to Roi, who was more than certain Robin had not completely surrendered. At least he could see the knights and fight them accordingly, but he worried about what he couldn't see. He suspected the worst was yet to come where Robin le Bec was concerned.

And then there was Diara.

Taking her away from her father and her home, Roi presumed that he would begin to see what she was truly made of. The past two days had been spent in the comfort of her own home, a place that she was familiar with, so taking her on the road with him was a big change for her. He wondered if it would be a dose of reality for them both about this marriage and what they were truly about to face, but over the course of those two days of travel, he saw nothing that indicated any kind of change in heart with her.

In fact, he saw quite the opposite.

Diara seemed to blossom away from her father. Astride a small gray palfrey and with her cousin at her side, she kept up a running stream of chatter that was quite enchanting. It passed the time beautifully, so much so that Roi was sorry when the day of travel ended and they had to find shelter for the night. They found it in a small tavern on the edge of Hereford, a place he had been to before, since it was within his father's lands, but he quickly discovered that Diara had never been to a tavern in her life.

He quite enjoyed watching the situation through her eyes.

She was someone who was truly interested in people. She didn't look at them and see the rich and the poor, the slovenly and the well dressed, but rather she looked at them as individuals. As she had commented to Roi more than once, everyone had a story, and she liked to hear of other people's perspectives and their experiences. Even when they were sitting at the table in the tavern, enjoying their supper, she ended up talking to a merchant at the next table because the man was wearing exotic robes that were quite lovely, and she was curious about them. The man ended up at their table, buying their entire meal for them, as he told her about his travels from the Holy Land.

It was enough to nearly keep her up all night, but just after midnight, long after most people had gone to bed, Roi finally forced her to end the conversation so she could get some sleep. He had done it in a kind way, and she was very sweet about it, but she had been sad for the evening to end. He was coming to see that she was simply naturally curious about everything, and hearing of the merchant's travels had given her more perspective of the world in general. For someone who had spent her life at essentially only two locations—and one of them had not exactly been pleasant—Roi could see that she hungered for knowledge and the world at large.

And that had given him an idea.

Since he didn't have anything terribly pressing in the near future, he decided that he would take her on a wedding trip after they were married. He had traveled to many places over the course of his lifetime, so the thought of travel wasn't of great interest to him—but he knew it would be to her. He wanted to take her to France, and he wanted to take her to a beautiful lake known as Lac du Lausanne that was surrounded by soaring mountains and beautiful scenery. Knowing how much she seemed to like new and interesting things, he decided she would love such a place.

If she was by his side, so would he.

Spending time with her had given him some respite from his grief over the loss of Beckett. When he was with her, she lightened his heart in so many ways. It was only when he was alone that he thought about his son and the future that would never be. When they arrived at Lioncross and he went straight into the undercroft, he sat next to Beckett's casket for a full hour before he even made any attempt to look at his son inside. He sat there and thought about the young man that he'd never fully come to know, or the more mature man that he would never witness, the great knight and the husband and the father that would never be.

He missed those things he would never know.

He knew his son was young and arrogant and had dreams of grandeur. That had never been a question. Beckett had been heavily trained at Selbourne Castle in the laws of the land, hoping that he would follow in his father's footsteps. Beckett seemed to think that his knowledge of the law would set him aside from other men, and, in truth, it did to a certain extent. He assumed that there was no reason that he would not be as great as his father and grandfather, and that had reflected in his manner. Lord de Nerra, his liege and mentor, had commented on that fact to Roi more than once. They both knew that they were dealing with an extremely bright and extremely prideful young man, and they both assumed that age and wisdom would temper his pride somewhat.

Now, that would never be.

It was all of these things that Roi grieved over as he sat next to his son's casket. When it finally came time to lift the lid and look at his son's face, he did it without hesitation. What greeted him was nothing horrific; Beckett looked as if he was sleeping, except for the fact that he had a giant bruise on his forehead and his skin was as white as snow. However, it also had a greenish cast to it, as did his ears, his fingers, and the tip of his nose.

That was the only hint of death.

Roi wept softly as he put his hand on his son's head. He could see exactly what had happened and exactly how Beckett had broken his neck. The proof was in front of him, and it was a difficult thing to accept. He stood next to the casket for another hour, his tears falling on his son as he spoke to him softly and told him just how much he was going to miss him. He also told him of Diara and how he hoped Beckett would wish him well. He asked Beckett to take excellent care of his mother, who had been alone these many years. Roi rejoiced in the knowledge that Beckett and Odette were finally together again.

To be truthful, it was the only thing that kept him from collapsing into complete despair.

With the lid of the coffin still removed, he went to sit down again because he was emotionally and physically exhausted. He couldn't see Beckett's face from where he sat, but he could see his son's hands, as they were placed over his chest. Somebody had tied them together to keep them from falling away. He lost track of time as he sat there, lost in memories, until he heard faint footsteps approach.

"Roi?"

It was Christopher. Roi took a deep, ragged breath and looked up to see his father standing a few feet away. When their eyes met, Christopher smiled faintly.

"Your mother has sent me to see how you are faring," he said quietly. "She wanted to make sure you did not require anything."

Roi returned his gaze to the open casket. He shook his head unsteadily, finally lifting his hands in a gesture that suggested he didn't know what he needed.

"Nay," he said, his voice dull with grief. "I do not require anything. But tell me something, Papa."

"If I can."

"How would you feel if you were sitting in my place and I was in that casket?"

Christopher sighed heavily. "Distraught," he said. "I would feel what you are feeling. Utter agony and distress."

Roi knew that. He really didn't even know why he had asked, only that he was looking for some commiseration.

"Mama told me about the child you lost before Christin was born," he said. "Other than that, you've never really lost anyone close to you, have you?"

Christopher moved to sit down next to his son, on a stone bench that jutted out from the wall. "Nay," he said truthfully. "But only by God's grace. I've lost knights and friends. I've lost my parents. But I have never lost a living child or even a brother, thankfully. I have been very fortunate."

Roi was still looking at his son. "How do I recover from this?" he asked. "I told Mama that I did not think I would survive this, but I will. I know I will. But survival is not recovery. How do I recover from this?"

Christopher put his hand on the man's shoulder. "By remembering what you do have as opposed to what you have lost," he said. "You have Adalia and Dorian. They are upstairs right now, and they need you. And you have a kind young woman who is about to be your wife. Lad, sometimes when God takes something away, he gives us something in return. He would not leave you completely alone in your hour of pain."

Roi thought on the ray of sunshine he'd brought with him, who was up in the hall at this very moment, and he could feel his heart lighten at the mere idea.

"Mayhap," he said. "You have never met Diara before, have you?"

Christopher shook his head. "Nay," he said. "But your mother likes her already. That is a good sign."

Roi smiled weakly. "It is," he said. "Mama is very selective about the women she likes."

"True," Christopher said. "Especially those marrying her sons. I feel some pity for them, to tell you the truth."

Roi's very nearly chuckled at the thought of his tough-as-iron mother inspecting women meant for her sons. "Diara can hold her own against Mama," he said. "She is a very amiable person."

"I know," Christopher said. "I've seen it. I've spent the last few hours speaking to her, and before I realized it, I told her nearly everything about my time in the Levant. She managed to get it out of me, and I did not even know it."

That made Roi laugh. "You do not easily speak on those things."

"I do not."

"She has a way about her, doesn't she?"

Christopher nodded firmly. "She's enchanting without being pretentious, and that, my son, is a gift," he said. "Kingdoms go to war over women like that. Cheltenham knows what he has in her, but I must admit, I cannot believe such a woman is Robin le Bec's daughter. A man like that… I should not expect such an affable child."

Roi's smile faded. "I have not had the opportunity to tell you what happened when we left Cheltenham," he said. "Robin was not—"

Christopher held up a hand to stop him. "Say no more," he said. "Lady Diara told me everything."

Roi looked surprised. "She did?" he said. "What did she say?"

"That Robin tripped and hurt himself just as you were preparing to leave," Christopher said. "That is why he did not come."

Roi realized that Diara probably had to tell his father something about Robin's absence, so she gave him the same story they had both agreed upon. With regret, he sighed and averted his gaze.

"She had to tell you that," he said. "She was protecting me."

Christopher frowned. "Protect you from what?"

Roi cleared his throat softly. "Robin was being difficult," he said. "I wanted to bring Diara to Beckett's funeral, but he demanded I marry her first. I told him I did not wish to because, until my son is buried, my focus will be on him, and that is not fair to a new wife. But Robin did not see it that way. He said some fairly distasteful things about Beckett, so I struck him."

Christopher wasn't surprised to hear that, but he still shook his head with regret. "Hard?"

"Hard enough to knock him cold," Roi said. "When he awoke, Diara told him that he tripped and hit his face on the table. I am sure he does not believe that, but Diara told her mother the same story, and, as you have seen, the lady can be quite convincing when she wants to be."

"She does not want her father to know you struck him."

Roi shook his head slowly. "Nay."

"He could have you punished."

"Possibly."

"Then I like her already, because she has tried to protect you," Christopher said. "Not that I condone striking Cheltenham, even though the man undoubtedly deserved it, but I like that she would do what is necessary to protect you from his wrath. That is a good woman."

Roi nodded. "I think so," he said quietly. "Papa… I have spent the past four days with her, and I have come to a conclusion that makes me feel quite guilty."

"About what?"

Roi stood up and went to his son's casket, looking down at that pale face. "About the fact that I do not think Beckett would have been a good husband for her," he said. "She is far more mature and responsible than he was. Mayhap he would have grown into it, but he simply wasn't ready for marriage. He lacked the sense of maturity that it requires, and poor Diara would have been married to a man who was not as sensible or wise as she was. That would have made for a sad marriage, indeed."

"But why do you feel guilty?"

Roi looked at him. "Because I am glad he didn't marry her," he said. "She is a much better match for me."

A smile tugged at the corner of Christopher's mouth. "Can I assume that you are pleased with this betrothal?"

"Very much so."

"You were not so certain when you told Robin that you would assume the contract in Beckett's stead."

"I did not know her at the time. She is perfect."

"As perfect as Odette?"

Roi shrugged. "Odette was completely different," he said. "We were both young when we married, and there were times I was more like her father than her husband. She would not make a decision without me. She would hardly make a move without me. She was kind and educated and accomplished, but she was very much a helpless creature. Diara is most certainly not a helpless creature."

Christopher sat back against the stone wall behind him. "Does she remind you of someone in that respect?"

"Who?"

"Your mother, mayhap?"

Roi thought on that for a moment. "A little," he said. "I am not ashamed to admit that the older I have become, the more I like a woman who is not a poor, fragile flower. I like a woman with a little fire and the sense to control it."

"You see that in Diara?"

"I do. And I think she and Beckett would have made each other miserable."

Christopher stood up and went to him, standing next to his son as he gazed down at his grandson.

"Mayhap," he said. "But it is nothing you should feel guilty over. Everything happens the way it should in God's good time. Not to say that Beckett's death has been something welcome, because it most certainly has not been. I'm simply saying that it was God's will, and he is infinite in his wisdom. Knowing how distraught you would be, he has given you someone to ease your pain. It is up to you what you do with her."

Roi knew what his father was trying to say. He was trying to see something good in all of this. Roi wasn't sure if he could, but he could try. He would try. There was nothing more he could do, as his father had said, than look at what he had as opposed to what he had lost.

He had Diara.

"Thank you, Papa," he said. "For your wisdom and advice. I would be lost without it."

Christopher patted him on the shoulder and began to head back the way he'd come. "Your mother wishes to know if you will be attending the meal this evening," he said. "I can just as easily have food sent down to you."

Roi returned to the stone bench. "That would be best," he said. "I am going to spend the night here with my son. We shall bury him in the morning."

"The grave is already dug."

"Thank you," Roi said. "But I should like to complete this vigil alone, please. I know my brothers mean well, but I do not want any company."

"Understood."

"And the horse that threw Beckett—did it return with him?"

"It did."

"If Curtis does not want it returned to him, then please sell it. I do not want it."

"As you wish."

As his father turned to walk away, Roi stopped him. "Papa," he said. "Please have Diara bring the food down to me. I may like to have her sit with me for a while."

But Christopher shook his head. "She will not come."

Roi looked at him, surprised. "Why not?"

"Because your mother already suggested she bring some food to you after we arrived, but she refused," Christopher said. "Politely, of course, but she would not come. She said that this is your time with Beckett, and she has no intention of encroaching on that time. She said that this day belongs to just the two of you."

Roi smiled faintly. "She is a considerate woman," he said. "One of the many things I am coming to appreciate about her."

Christopher smiled in return. "Me too."

With that, he headed back up the stairs that led from the abbey's undercroft. Roi continued to sit there, hearing his father's footfalls fade away, before returning his focus to Beckett.

But his thoughts were lingering on Diara.

It was enough to keep the smile on his face, at least for a short while. The fact that she should be so considerate was something he simply wasn't used to. Someone who was thinking of his feelings, of his thoughts. Instead of insisting she be the center of attention, even in a situation like this, Diara was perfectly happy to be in the background while Roi dealt with a life-changing situation.

He would never be able to thank her enough for it.

That would have to wait, however, because today, as she'd said, was only for Roi and Beckett, and he was content with that. Roi remained in the undercroft all night, sometimes speaking to his son of memories past, sometimes praying for his soul. Once, he even spoke to Odette to ask her to take good care of Beckett. He hoped she was proud of their son for what he'd accomplished in his short lifetime. Certainly, he was positive that she was.

When morning finally came and his brothers appeared to help him take Beckett into the chapel of Lioncross Abbey, Roi was at the head of the casket as Beckett's uncles carefully carried him across the bailey to the old chapel, where a grave had been dug in the spot that Roi had selected. Roi himself helped lower his son into his final resting place, and he even helped replace the dirt that had been disturbed, covering the casket up.

Sealing Beckett away for all eternity.

The entire time, Diara had been well to the rear of the group, making sure the family was close to their young son and nephew and grandson without her getting in the way. She simply stood back and let the de Lohr family grieve. If Roi hadn't been falling for her before that time, seeing how she conducted herself at the funeral had him thinking that he never wanted to be without that woman by his side, not ever. He was starting to get a glimpse of just how decent of a human being she was.

Beckett's funeral changed everything.