Page 30 of Feathers in the Wind
Robin pushed past his brother, placing himself between Denzil and the bed. ‘No. He stays where he is, Denzil.’
A vein throbbed in Denzil’s temple. ‘I’ll not stay in this house to be lectured to by women.’ Denzil cast his aunt a fiery glance.
Perdita moved beside Robin, casting him a quick, nervous glance as she said, ‘You can’t take him. He’ll die if you move him.’
‘Pah.’ Denzil took a step toward her. ‘Adam is tough and if it’s rest he needs he will get ample in Oxford Castle.’
‘Haven’t you done enough already? He’s lost blood and has the risk of a fever. Move him and you’ll kill him.’
‘Well, that will save us all a lot of trouble.’ Denzil pushed past Perdita and in a couple of strides he crossed to the bed and leaned over Adam. ‘Can you hear me, Coulter?’
Adam's eyes flickered open. ‘Denzil.’ His voice was barely above a whisper.
‘Don’t make yourself comfortable, brother. You’re coming to Oxford to stand trial for the traitor that you are.’
‘For the love of God, Denzil, you’ve shot me, beaten me and dragged me through the rain. I can’t sit up, let alone sit a horse,’ Adam said.
‘You’ll come with me, even if it means throwing you in the back of a dung cart to get you there.’ Denzil gripped the bed clothes. ‘Now get up.’
Perdita laid her hand on his sleeve, her fury with this obdurate man seething to the surface.
‘You’ll not take him.’
Denzil shook off her hand, turning his ferocious gaze on her. He raised his hand. Instinctively she took a quick inward breath, bracing herself for the blow, knowing from bitter experience what was coming.
‘Denzil. Strike her and you’ll reckon with me,’ Adam pulled himself up in the bed, his face pale and his eyes burning.
Denzil lowered his hand and laughed. ‘And what will you do, Adam?’
Adam closed his eyes. ‘Perdita, would you be so good as to find me some dry clothes?’
Robin took his brother’s arm and steered him away from the bed. ‘Apart from the fact it is still pouring with rain, Denzil, it is the middle of the night and I for one would like something to eat and a dry bed. Mistress Gray is right, Adam will die if you try to move him. Look at him. You can see for yourself, he’ll not be fit for any sort of travel for days, if not weeks.’
Denzil glared at his younger brother and back at the man on the bed. Adam's gaze held his brother’s for a moment before he slumped back against the bolsters.
‘Denzil, I give you my parole,’ Adam said.
‘Your parole? Do you think your word means anything to me?’ Denzil snarled.
‘Then leave me here. I’ll bring him on to Oxford when he can sit a horse,’ Robin said in a low even tone.
Denzil scrutinised his youngest brother through narrowed eyes.
‘You don’t trust me?’ Robin met his brother’s gaze, his face pale and taut, and it occurred to Perdita in that moment that if there was one person in the world who could control Denzil Marchant, it was this slight young man.
Denzil shook his head and clapped a hand on his brother’s shoulder. ‘Of course I trust you. It’s him I don’t trust.’ Denzil glared in Adam's direction and gave an impatient snort. ‘Very well, Coulter, it seems if I want you hale and hearty to stand trial for the traitor you are, I have no choice but to accept your parole and leave you in Robin's custody.’ Robin's shoulders visibly relaxed but stiffened again as Denzil rounded on him. ‘If you let him escape, Rob, then God help you.’
‘Leave the boy alone.’ Adam's voice was cold and hard. ‘I’ve given you my word Denzil. That should be enough.’
Denzil's moustache twitched as he turned back to Adam, leaning over him so close that his hair brushed Adam’s face. ‘Don't go and die on me, Coulter, it would be very disappointing.’
‘I don't doubt it.’ Adam glared back at him.
Denzil turned on his heel and strode out of the room.
Robin crossed to Perdita and laid his hand on her shoulder. Now the drama had passed and with it the realisation of what facing down a man like Denzil Marchant meant, she began to shake.
‘I’ve never seen anyone stand up to Denzil like that,’ Robin said, unable to hide the admiration in his tone.
