Chapter Three

"Richard Grayson!" Barbara's voice pierced his dreams. "The sun is halfway up towards its zenith and you are still a bed!" Richard tried burrowing deeper into his bedcovers. These were instantly pulled off. The morning chill quickly woke him.

"Lady Barbara, it's the middle of the night," he groaned. Barbara quickly drew the curtains and the bright sunlight suddenly streamed in, blinding him. "Argh!" He turned away from the white light. "What are you doing in my chambers at this unholy hour? Are you trying to kill me?"

"That's a tempting thought," Barbara replied. "However, father sent me to fetch you. Apparently you are late for your private fencing lesson with the Captain of the Guard."

Richard sighed. He'd had little more than two hours sleep and felt thoroughly exhausted. He noticed for the first time that he was lying in bed in his undergarments without any type of cover. Lady Barbara was in his bedchamber and he was practically naked!

He quickly grabbed his bedcovers and hiked them up to his chin.

"I respectfully request that you leave my chambers immediately, Barbara Gordon!" Richard protested. "'Tis most unseemly that a virtuous young maiden such as yourself should be in the chambers of a king's knight!"

"Oh, pish posh, Richard Grayson! I helped your dear mother, Lady Mary change your nappies when you were still a wee babe in arms. There's nothing you have that I haven't seen all ready!" Barbara stood in the center of Richard's chambers with her arms crossed, a look of utter contempt in her flashing eyes.

Richard's own eyes narrowed at the challenge. "Oh, is that right?" he said. He immediately threw off his covers and jumped out of bed. They stood staring at each other for what seemed an eternity. Richard deliberately approached her, instinctively assuming the predatory stance he utilized in a sword fight. Barbara suddenly swallowed.

Richard was only wearing a white muslin breechcloth intended as an undergarment. His perfectly proportioned physique, marred by four not quite healed welts across the rib cage, gave him the appearance of a young Greek god. Barbara's cheeks blushed crimson . . . she could see right through his breechcloth!

"Oh!" Barbara yelped, and hurriedly turned her back, intending to rush out of the room; however, Richard was too fast for her, grabbing her from behind.

"What's your hurry, my Lady?" Richard held her by the arms, her back to him; he'd spoken in low suggestive tones. "I thought that I had nothing to show you that you hadn't seen already in your much greater experience. Perhaps you would care to share some of your *knowledge* with me? I am after all your junior by five years; I lack your education in certain . . . nonacademic . . . subjects."

As he talked, Barbara could feel Richard's hot breath on her neck. She felt herself being willingly drawn into his hypnotic spell, a fly to a burning taper. He gently ran his hands up her arms, caressing her neck lightly with his cheek. Abruptly, Richard turned her to him, locking her arms behind her.

She'd tried to raise his ire with her taunting words yet again, and this time she'd succeeded! In a fit of pique, Richard held her a bit tighter and more roughly than his normally good-humored nature would have allowed. He'd always liked and respected Barbara. Most of the time he thought of her as an annoying older sister, but lately there were times when he caught himself staring her and suddenly feeling as if the earth had ceased to turn on its axis.

Then there was her searing tongue, which always left him the loser in their ongoing battle of wits. Well, it was *his* turn.

"I don't have anything show you, do I?" He asked, his voice deceptively mild. "We'll see about *that*, my dear caustic lady!"

Richard kissed her fully in the mouth. Because Barbara stood an inch taller than he did, Richard found himself having to stand slightly on his tiptoes; however, as Barbara willingly succumbed to his increasing pressure, she seemed to melt into his arms, their bodies becoming as one. What had started out as a cruel joke to goad her into a fit of anger, turned into a passionately burning kiss that neither of them expected. Barbara responded with a ferocity that she'd never suspected was within her; while Richard's rising hunger ignited the hidden desire that had long smoldered just below the surface.

As their communal sense of propriety suddenly settled over them, they each became aware of what they were doing. They immediately broke apart, neither able to breathe. They stood a handswidth apart and gazed in mutual shock into each other's eyes.

"My lady," Richard gasped, horrified at his conduct. He immediately kneeled and bowed his head. "I beg your forgiveness . . . I wouldst fain cut out my own heart as bring thee dishonor. You are and ever have been my true and dearest friend . . . a sister of my heart."

"Please, Sir Richard," Barbara cried, her face covered in disgrace. "Let us not bring mention of this shameful moment again. We were both in the wrong." She turned to go. "I should not have teased you. You are no longer the wee lad with whom I used to play in the nursery. You are a knight and should be treated with the dignity afforded your station. If anyone should ask for forgiveness, it is I." She paused at the door. "Father expects you at mid-morn."

Richard nodded in acquiescence. The soft closing of the door jerked him back. He couldn't believe what he'd almost done. His knightly vows of chastity, chivalry, and honor almost cast carelessly off. "Oh, fie on all that!" He said angrily. "I deliberately tried to hurt Barbara. That is unforgivable! She may have the sharpest tongue in all of Avalon, but there isn't a dearer lady anywhere." He sat on his bed and held his head in shame.

A soft knock on the door roused him.

"Yes, who goes?" he called.

"'Tis Alfred, Sir Richard. I heard you moving about and wondered if you'd care to break your fast?" Richard was in no mood to be coddled right at this moment, but remembering his rude behavior of the previous night, sighed and bid Alfred enter.

As Alfred laid out a lovely morning meal, Richard went into his accompanying chamber to refresh himself. "I must be an utter wretch to have brought pain on two of my dearest friends within the space of only a few hours," he muttered.

Richard quickly hurried through his morning routine. He dressed in simple homespun woolen breeches and shirt; over this he threw on an open jerkin made of soft calf's leather. Lastly, he pulled on an old pair of scuffed boots. Past experience had taught him that when fencing against Captain Gordon, the wise man dressed in clothes he didn't mind getting torn and bloodied.

Alfred took one look at his young charge and raised an eyebrow in silent disapproval. Richard blushed guiltily, but held his ground. He'd lost too many silk shirts in the past to relish the loss of another. Alfred gave a long-suffering sigh but didn't say anything. Today's youth, he tsked.

Finally, Richard sat down to his breakfast. He would have preferred to slap a piece of cheese between two slices of bread, but Alfred hovered over him, insisting that he eat a hearty meal so to best meet the day's challenges. Richard smiled gamely and forced himself to swallow the various sweet breads and fruits that Alfred placed before him.

****

Less than a candlemark later, Richard was leaping, dodging, and otherwise moving as quickly as his athletic skills would allow. Captain Gordon took no pity on those of noble blood, and if his current opponent just happened to be the only living nephew of her Majesty the Queen, so much the better. Gordon's task was to ensure that his noble charge did not become the *late* nephew of the Queen.

Richard's weekly lessons with the Captain of the Guard took almost as much out of him as his nightly fencing lessons with Lord Wayne. While Wayne was twice the swordsman, introducing all manner of unique fighting skills along with his own superior swordsmanship, Gordon had the advanced experience of having fought in several campaigns in the service of the Crown. King Orrin was the third ruler under whom Gordon had served faithfully and with distinction.

"Sir Richard, you show improvement, lad!" Gordon complimented easily. Richard noticed that Gordon wasn't even breathing hard. "You've finally managed to parry the thrust to your weak side. I've tried to break through your left twice now, and each time you've successfully beaten back my attack! Excellent riposte, lad!" Richard grinned at the compliment to his immediate counterattack following his parry of Gordon's feint.

Gordon was trying to distract Richard into listening to him talk and thus lose track of the job at hand. Well, it wouldn't work this time!

Never mind that it's worked each time before, Richard amended chagrinned.

Time to try something new. Richard began his attack. He started by lunging at the fencing master, extending his sword arm and threatening with his forte. Gordon easily counter-parried, quickly moving around the opposite side of Richard's foil. He saw Richard's open side and moved in for the win. This was what Richard had been waiting for.

Richard planted his lead foot, then leaped up splitting his legs outward and upward; thus quicker than the eye could follow, when Gordon lunged forward, his sword sliced empty air. Richard's forward arc cleared over and above Gordon's head, catching the elder swordsman flatfooted. As Richard landed lightly, he immediately turned and assumed an *en garde* stance. Chivalry dictated that he wait for his opponent to recover and resume the game.

"How's that for a balestra, Captain Gordon?" Richard asked amusedly. He referred to a fencer's use of a forward hop or leap. "You *did* mention during our previous lesson that the wise swordsman knows how to incorporate a certain change of pace." Gordon gave Richard an exasperated look.

"Aye, lad, that I did. But my intention was not to have you turn this gentleman's sport into a circus sideshow."

"But Captain, you said it yourself . . . I'm but a *lad*! I *love* the circus!" Richard said grinning.

"Gentleman's sport!" Barbara's derisive voice broke over their conversation. "'Tis nothing but a means for boys to play at being men by inflicting as much pain and damage on one another!" Both men stood down temporarily and turned to Gordon's daughter.

"Barbara! Mind your tongue, girl! Or I'll have Sir Richard here challenge you to a duel with epees instead of foils."

The epees in the Wayne armory were used as dueling swords, and were each thus hewn to a deadly point. Captain Gordon used the foils as training tools only, and thus these ended in a blunt point. "Father, an epee in Dicky's hands is a danger solely to himself!" Barbara's countenance flashed a challenge in Richard's direction, daring him for a rebuttal. It seemed to Barbara that when he gazed back at her, Richard's eyes glinted like the icy blue waters of his native Solway Firth off whose shores his ancestral home lay.

Richard set his lips in a straight line and bit down hard to keep from responding in anger. Why must she provoke him so? Why must she always say things that were meant to cause him to look the fool? Richard turned away without answering and faced Gordon for their last go-round.

He had to get away from here. He had to get away from *her*. He looked over by the railing and saw that Wallace and Roy were grinning broadly as they watched the proceedings. So, she had played to those two again.

"Captain, I have an audience with Lord Wayne this morn. Let us finish the lesson so that I may arrive at the appointed time." Gordon nodded. They each assumed an en garde position then began their final bout. Richard's anger continued to fester. Gordon feinted and Richard bit. It was over in an instant. Richard nodded stiffly to Gordon.

"My thanks, Captain, for your time and continuing patience over my poor form and slow-wittedness. Now I must keep my appointment." A young page arrived to take Richard's fencing equipment. Richard turned stiffly and began the short trek back to the castle's main residence.

"Richard!" Richard paused at Barbara's call. "A word please." Richard waited where he'd stopped, not turning around. She approached him tentatively. "We have to talk," she said softly.

"What is there to talk about, milady? You said it yourself. The less that is said of my shameful conduct the better. Now if you'll excuse me, I have duties." Richard made as if to continue, when Barbara angrily grabbed his sword arm. Richard instinctively seized her wrist. Thankfully, he caught himself before he threw her head over heels.

"You should know better than that, Lady!" he hissed harshly. "You're a trained swordswoman! Your father's daughter! I just came off the training circle . . . you *know* what I'm capable of!"

"Indeed I do, Sir Knight! Therefore, if you won't speak to me civilly, you'll answer to *this*!" To Richard's shock, Barbara grabbed his sword by the hilt unsheathing it, and she immediately lunged at him. His battle instincts took over. He instantly dove and rolled; he then kicked out and swept Barbara's legs out from under her. Caught off guard she yelled in surprise, losing the sword in the process.

As she went airborne, Richard easily sprang up. Moving as if in slow motion, Richard caught the sword in his right hand, and before Barbara could hit the ground, caught her by the waist with his left; he hauled her none to gently to her feet. As time seemed to resume, she shoved him away in humiliated anger. Richard did not let go quite that easily.

"Next time you draw a sword against an unarmed opponent, milady, ensure that *unarmed* means no longer dangerous." With that he released Barbara, spun on his heel, and continued on his return to Castle Wayne, resheathing his sword in the process.

Watching his retreating back, Barbara spluttered, unable to respond. "Ooh! You . . . you . . . ooh!" Barbara spun on her own heels and stomped away, going in the opposite direction that Richard had taken.

Wallace and Roy had observed their actions and exchanged amused glances.

"How many children do you s'pose they'll have?" Wallace asked in mock seriousness.

"At least a baker's dozen," Roy responded. "Assuming they don't kill each other first." Both men slapped their raised fists in hearty amusement, and laughing took their turns at the practice ring.

****

"They've moved their itinerary up," Wayne said. "That's why Lady Selina traveled this distance alone."

They were in Wayne's private study, which overlooked the mouth of the Tyne. A balcony jutted outwards, on the edge of the sheer cliffs that dropped straight down to the rocky, churning waters of the North Sea below. The walls and floors of the study were elegantly covered with handcrafted tapestries depicting both scenes from history and from daily castle life. This was Richard's favorite room and he came here often to read and meditate. 

"I was visiting friends in Gotham Town when the King's messenger arrived by ship. Their Majesties requested that I travel to Castle Wayne immediately to inform you of the change of plans. I did not have the time to hire an escort, so I decided to chance the short distance here." She paused sadly, dropping her eyes. "Because of my impatience, my retainer Roland, a dear and loyal friend, was murdered by those brigands!"

"You have our deepest sympathy, milady," Wayne said. "Richard, we must immediately send the Honor Guard to meet the Royal entourage. They should be about three days to the South of us by now. Probably staying at Fountains Abbey along the River Skell. Queen Diana is good friends with the abbey's Monsignor Aislabie. I want you to lead the Honor Guard," he added meaningfully. In other words, Wayne wanted his trusted squire, Robin, to be there in case of trouble. "Alfred, you know what to do. We must prepare a feast fit for a king . . . I know that you and the household staff will not disappoint. Richard, take Sir Wallace and Sir Roy with you . . . I want you to have our fastest swordsman and finest archer at your side when you meet their Royal Majesties."

Richard nodded; dismissed, he and Alfred left to prepare for their required duties. The Lady Selina elected to remain a moment longer.

"My lord, may I extend my warmest thanks for your hospitality. The Dark Knight and his Squire Robin surely saved my life last night, but your warm welcome to a weary traveler--"

"Milady, please . . . it is my honor and my pleasure. Being situated in the North Country upon the Tyne River, Castle Wayne's location between the Wastelands and Gotham Town to the North and the Midlands and Metropolis to the South, makes us the traveler's haven. T'would be unseemly of myself or my staff to not welcome all travelers on their long journeys." He gazed intently into Lady Selina's eyes. "Although sometimes there are certain travelers whom we welcome more than others."

Selina's eyes lit at his meaning. "Indeed, my lord," she murmured.

****

Barbara walked slowly, almost pensively through the castle gardens. For once the fragrance from the cultivated blooms did not enchant. She'd been such a fool! What was *wrong* with her? Drawing a sword on *Richard*? Probably one of the finest swordsmen in the realm? And this morning . . . when he'd *kissed* her! She'd responded . . . passionately, eagerly!

She'd *kissed* Richard . . . little Dicky! Whom she used to watch carefully because of his tendency to wander off the castle grounds as a wee lad. Nay! He was no longer Dicky . . . no longer a wee lad. This morn she'd seen only too clearly what a fine figure of a man he'd grown into. She blushed again at the searing memory of Richard standing before her practically unclothed.

"'Tis too late," she murmured. "In all likelihood, I have rightfully earned Richard's eternal scorn. I am a fool."

"Nay, milady, you are not, and I would challenge the scalawag who wouldst dare cast calumny on your good name." Barbara spun at the sound of his voice. Richard approached her slowly, the moonlight glinting off his mail. Barbara saw that Richard was dressed proudly in his full Grayson livery. "I ride south and west at the candlemark, Barbara. I could not leave Castle Wayne without first putting to right that which has come between us."

A mere arm's length separated the two young people by then.

"Richard, I--!" Barbara began, but Richard interrupted her.

"Nay, milady . . . I must speak first," he said. "I have been a knave and a scoundrel. I would not blame you, should you choose never to speak to me again. My behavior today was inexorable and unforgivable." He took her hand in his and turned a beseeching glance upon her. Barbara gasped as Richard then lowered himself to one knee, his head bowed. "But I *do* beg your forgiveness, nevertheless, Lady Barbara. I beg to be allowed return to your good graces . . . and I swear on my honor as the hereditary Chieftain of Clan Grayson and all of Dumfrieshire and Strathclyde that I shall be your sworn champion from this day forth."

"Oh, Richard, there's no need of that!" Barbara said smiling through tears, pulling him up. "The Clans Gordon and Grayson have been allies for generations. We are kinsman and kinswoman on our fathers' sides . . . some five generations removed." They stood with barely a whisper separating them. "More importantly, we have been dear friends since childhood. You have been the brother of my heart--"

"--As you have been the sister of mine!"

"--As you are now the heart of my heart," she whispered, their lips moving closer.

"--Soul of my soul," he finished. They kissed, a soft chaste kiss, ethereal as the moonlight in which they stood. When they parted an eternity later, it was as if to a world reborn. He tenderly caressed her cheek, his touch feather soft. "Before I leave, may I ask your father for your hand?" He held his breath in anticipation of her answer. At her eager nod, his face lit in reflected joy, and just as suddenly fell.

"What is it?" she asked worriedly.

"My guardianship," he explained. "I may enter into a betrothal contract, but I can't marry or come into my inheritance until I'm one and twenty." Barbara smiled.

"'T'would seem, good sir, that you and I are about to enter into the world's longest betrothal." Her smile turned impish. "It wouldn't do for me to marry a mere lad, would it now? I mean it seems only yesterday that I searched hill and dale for you after you'd yet again wandered out of the castle gates." Richard laughed softly.

"What do you mean *wandered*? I *never* wandered! I always knew what I was doing . . . I got you to come looking for me, didn't I?" They both laughed softly. Catching the glint of moonlight on her hair, Richard caught his breath. "Heart of my heart . . . soul of my soul . . . beloved sister yesterday, betrothed tonight . . . I love you, Barbara Gordon."

As he spoke, Richard slowly gathered her gently in his arms, and kissed her once again, deeply and yearningly, a kiss that would have to last them for the upcoming days spent apart.

Chapter Four

Home Page FAQs GCPD Archive Fan-Fiction Archive Links

The Legal Stuff - Batman and related characters are the property of DC Comics. This is an unofficial web site and is not endorsed by or affiliated with DC Comics. All stories present on this site are the copyright of each writer, except for those characters and places that are copyright DC Comics. This web site is designed to provide people with information and entertainment relating to the DC Comics' Batman character and is not in any way a profit-making enterprise.