Honoring his Lady: A Medieval Romance (Norfolk Knights Book 5)

by Saskia Knight

  A shout was raised, and she turned to see William, and other men, racing toward the sea. Then she heard Katherine gasp and followed her gaze out to the raging sea. The stern of a boat tipped into view before plunging back into the sea, where it was lost. This time when the waves parted, there was no sign of the boat, only a few bobbing heads in the water and raised arms as the survivors struggled to reach the shore.

  There was chaos everywhere. People were running, dragging boats and ropes down to the sea. Some simply stood and watched, or sat on their haunches like birds of prey.

  “Why are they not helping? They should help!” cried Alice.

  Celestria, who was pulling on some breeches over her gown, glanced maliciously at the people. “They have no thought of help. Only of plunder.” She scanned their faces. “I know who they are! And they will regret their lack of humanity.”

  Then suddenly Celestria raced off.

  “What is she doing?” shouted Alice above the noise of the wind and waves “Katherine! We should stop her!”

  “She cannot be stopped. The Lord himself wouldn’t be able to stop Celestria. If Mother couldn’t, no one can.” Katherine placed a comforting hand on Alice. “Do not worry. Celestria can look after herself.” She paused, and a strong gust wind pushed them both back a step. “I hope,” she added grimly, as they watched her climb aboard a boat which was launched into the raging sea. “She can swim like a fish. Besides, she knows these waters well. Where the rocks are, where the eddies are. God willing, she’ll be safe.”

  But then Alice lost all thought of Celestria as William, a rope also securely tied around him, plunged into the sea. He quickly drove through the sea and came across a couple of dark patches, which he grasped before calling out. He was hauled back to shore, his arms securely around two people who began to thrash and nearly drowned them all until his instructions calmed them.

  Once brought to shore, Alice and Katherine pulled the half-drowned people to one side and worked on them. They were sick in the sand. It was a father and boy. They rolled over, and after coughing realized they would be well and passed them to a villager who had clothing and hot soup for them.

  Alice pulled her cloak around her and peered out into the darkness. Celestria’s boat, pulled by two strong men, was closest to the upended boat now.

  William pulled more people out of the sea and brought them to shore. It was a woman and a small child. They were in a worse way than the others and immediately Alice could see the child had died. But the woman, whose lungs rattled, continued to hold the child to her side.

  Alice made her as comfortable as she could in the howling gale, sheltered by some rocks and tried to lift the woman. It seemed she hadn’t drowned as there was no water coming from her mouth. But as Alice eased her up in her arms, she saw the pool of blood coming from her head. While the daughter had drowned, the mother was dying from a fatal blow to the head.

  The mother’s eyes fluttered open. And she spoke one name. “Char,” the woman said. “Where?” she tried to look around, and Alice hushed her.

  “Please do not move. You’re bleeding.”

  The woman moved her head regardless, rolling it back and forward. “Cha,” she said, exhaling with all her might.

  Alice didn’t know what she was trying to say. “Cha?” she asked.

  The woman licked her lips. “Charles,” she said. “My baby.” The word ‘baby’ seemed to revive her. She dug her fingertips into Alice’s arm. “Where is he?”

  Alice shook her head. “I don’t know.” The woman’s eyes creased in pain. “But William will get him.” She turned to see William bringing in a small bundle, wading through the high waves unaided, his eyes focused in the distance. “I think he has him,” said Alice, risking the guess to comfort the woman. Then she saw William hold up the bundle, and a piercing baby’s cry filled the air. “Bless the Lord! I do believe it is.” She cried out loud. “He’s safe! Charles is—” Then she turned to the woman who now lay lifeless on the blood-soaked sand, her young child still in her arms. Alice’s cry changed to a wail.

  She signaled William over to her, and he placed the small screaming baby into Alice’s arms. Immediately Alice brought her cloak around the child.

  “Most of the crew was rescued,” he said, nodding toward Celestria’s boat, which was being maneuvered to shore, full of men. “But the family had taken refuge beneath deck, and were the first to go. He shook his head as he looked down at the dead woman and girl. “One of the men said they were the only family onboard. She was a widow traveling to a new life somewhere. He knew not her name, nor her destination, nor anything else about her. He looked at the baby. “It seems this baby is all that remains of the family. And it’s nameless.”

  “It’s not an ‘it’,” said Alice. “It’s a he, and his name is Charles.” She looked up at William with tears in her eyes. “She was asking after him before she passed away.” Alice made the sign of the cross and nestled the baby closer to her. The baby’s cries lessened.

  William put his arm around her and pushed the cloth away from the baby’s face. Despite its cries, it was deathly white. “Go.” He looked around and beckoned Katherine over. “Both of you return to the castle and look after the babe.”

  Alice didn’t need telling twice and was already hurrying across the wet sands to the dunes, which would lead her back to the road to the castle. Despite its short distance, it seemed to take an age, and by the time they had entered the Hall, she was wet to the skin and shivering from the rain and from pressing the soaking bundle of Charles to her chest.

  She called to the maid. “Go warm some milk.” She awkwardly pulled off her cloak and peeled away the wet layers. “And some dry clothes to swaddle the babe in!”

  Alice plucked a fur mantle from a hook and lay it before the fire where she placed the babe. He immediately began to scream, his arms and legs flailing as she struggled to unwrap him from his soaking clothes. Her usual control was shattered as she tried to focus on peeling off his clothes and getting him warm and dry. Her hands were shaking by the time he lay naked on a warm, dry cloth. She had no time to admire his pale skin, but quickly wrapped him in some clothes the maid had brought. She held the babe close to her body, snuggled into her arms, and rocked him. It was only then that the baby quieted.

  The maid looked up at her with open curiosity on her face. Alice, herself, had no idea where the impulse had come that the baby needed closeness above all else. No idea that she could rock to soothe someone else held so close to her. She had no memory of ever holding a babe in her arms before. That something so natural still existed deep within her surprised her. She kissed the baby’s downy head before slipping on a cap which the maid offered. With the seawater smell of the babe still fresh on her lips, she pulled him against her once more.

  “The babe is quiet in your arms. It’s as if he knows you.”

  Alice caught the maid’s wondering glance and shook her head. “How could he?” She stroked his downy head. “All he knows is what my arms are telling him. That he’s safe and loved.” The words slipped out of her unawares. It was only after she’d said them that she realized they were true, spoken from the heart—a heart she hadn’t known to be still alive in her previously frozen body.

  She took the cup of warmed milk from the maid. “What’s this?” asked Alice, puzzling over what looked like a piece of fine animal skin fashioned into a small cone shape, with a small mesh-covered cut in its end.

  “It’ll aid the babe’s feeding. My old mam used to use one for her grand-babies when there was no one to feed them. Do it like this,” said the maid, carefully pouring a little milk into the cloth and guiding Alice’s hand to the babe’s mouth, which was open, as were his eyes. He immediately latched onto the thing which spluttered out the milk. And for one moment, she thought the babe would drown in milk rather than the sea, but then the maid adjusted the flow, and the babe suckled deeply. Even when the milk had gone, and the babe’s eyes were closed, his mouth continued to suckle.
When the maid took away the milk, Alice gave the babe her little finger to suckle instead, and he settled once more.

  As the cries and shouts outside grew louder, Alice took him upstairs to a small solar where they wouldn’t be disturbed. As the wind raged around the castle, Alice sang lullabies she thought she’d forgotten to the babe. Alice was aware of the people’s shouts as they brought the survivors into the Hall, and revived them with dry clothes, food, and wine. The dead would also be cared for. William would make sure of that. But she had her arms full, and her heart, as she focused on the infant who lay fast asleep against her body. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Such a scrap to be left so alone. Except he wasn’t alone, was he? He had her. And she vowed, there and then, that she’d never fail him. She’d make sure he’d never be alone in the world again.

  And so the night deepened as life continued outside the walls of the solar, the dead were cared for, the living revived, and the world returned to normal. Except nothing was as it had been before for Alice. This tiny baby had reached deep inside of her and found a place within her, which she hadn’t known to exist.

  Alice was filled with sorrow that his mother and sister had died in the tragedy. But with their death, it was as if she’d been brought to life.

  Much later, William was able to leave the Hall, now full of sleeping people who’d been rescued from the ship. As he made his way to Alice’s solar, he tried to forget the haunting image of the woman who lay, her young daughter still in her arms, beneath a sheet in an outbuilding.

  He knocked quietly on the solar door, but receiving no answer, he pushed it open. He was about to speak but the words melted at the sight which greeted him. Alice didn’t look up. The firelight flickered around her, giving an orange glow to her usually cool blonde features. He couldn’t see the babe, and it made no sound. Only its bulky swaddling was visible, peeping out from Alice’s cloak as she gazed, motionless, to where the babe’s face must be.

  She looked up suddenly, and the light in her eyes lit a corresponding one in his heart.

  “William,” she breathed. “Charles is asleep.” William walked over to them, and she eased the baby from her chest and showed him. “Isn’t he beautiful?”

  William had little knowledge of babies. And this one didn’t seem particularly beautiful to him. He was tiny, fair with a snub nose and rosy lips. He cleared his throat. “Beautiful,” he repeated, hoping that would suffice. But then he looked at Alice and repeated the word, knowing she wouldn’t realize that he meant her. “Beautiful.” He pushed away a strand of hair that had fallen across her face. He had a strange feeling as she looked up at him again with a smile. He’d never seen that expression before. Something inside of her had been ignited. Something glowed. He almost had a stab of jealousy. But then she raised her hand to his cheek and caressed him, and he leaned into her caress.

  “He’s our miracle, William. He’s my baby now.” Without waiting for an answer, Alice brought Charles against her body and leaned back with a sigh and closed her eyes.

  William took a step away, struck by a myriad of thoughts that made no sense. He was happy that Alice was happy. But her words struck him like a blow. She’d said “my baby”. It appeared that the baby was an orphan, but that Alice should so swiftly take to the baby astonished him.

  He was about to move away when he heard her say something else. He couldn’t believe his ears. “What did you say?”

  “Our baby, William.” She smiled sleepily before her eyes closed once more. “Our baby. With him in our lives, we could do as you wanted. We could marry because he could be our future. Our family.”

  He swallowed, looked at them both, and for the first time in a long time, hope was alight in his heart.

  Chapter 11

  When Alice opened the shutters the next morning, her first thought as she looked across the fields toward the sea was that there had been no storm the night before. The sky was a bright blue, as if newly washed, and the air smelled of salt and earth—the two things she always thought of when it came to Wanham, and William. It was only when she lowered her gaze to the surrounding fields and castle bailey that she saw the havoc that the storm had wrought.

  Tree branches lay scattered around the fields and lane which led toward the river, and thatch from the outbuildings now lay over everything, turning the courtyard and road into a field of broken reeds. But it was the number of people who clustered in the bailey, which drew her attention. The sun had not yet risen and yet there were people everywhere, caring for the survivors. William was talking with a group of people she didn’t recognize. She was concerned by their grim looks and seriousness of manner, and she resolved to find out what was wrong. But there were other demands on her time before she discovered what was amiss with William.

  A grizzling sound caught her attention, and she saw Charles had suddenly awoken, disturbed by the absence of her body, and was demanding either food or attention. Whichever it was, she’d make sure he received it.

  She took the cup with the soft spout attached and angled it towards Charles. It took a few messy moments to get the flow right, but he was hungry. He didn’t appear too fussed by the unusual way he was receiving his food or bothered by the difference between the goat’s milk and his mother’s.

  Once Charles had been satisfied, Alice quickly dressed and wrapped him in a warm fur wrap and went downstairs. But she was not on her way to William. Instead, she passed through the Hall, which was crowded with the rescued men who appeared much improved by William’s generosity. The Hall was as busy as the courtyard. While the castle’s steward, Sir Harry, was busy with William and the officials, Katherine and Celestria were doing what each did best—giving comfort by organizing the victuals and entertaining people with tall tales.

  But Alice didn’t linger in the Hall. Once in the courtyard, she made a few inquiries, and made her way to the farthest corner, where a small storeroom stood. The door was closed, and she pushed open the door. It took little while for her eyes to become accustomed to the gloom inside. Then she saw her—Charles’s mother, her body covered from top to toe, and next to her the smaller body of her child.

  Part of Alice wanted to retreat, to return to the people and noise of the bailey and the Hall. But she owed it to both Charles and his mother—the woman who’d died with her baby’s name on her lips.

  She swallowed her fears and, drawing the babe tighter against her, went to where the two bodies lay. She hesitated, nervous at what she’d see beneath the sheet. She took a deep breath and pulled it away. Apart from a waxy white, their faces were unharmed, and they could have been sleeping. Someone had bound the mother’s head for appearance’s sake, to hide the gash, but her child’s face was untouched.

  “Look, Charles,” she said, turning the baby toward the bodies. His eyes blinked as if recognizing his name and looked down at the bodies. “It’s your mother,” she whispered between dry lips. “And your sister.”

  The baby whimpered slightly, and Alice thought she might have made a mistake. The baby reached out, and Alice’s heart clenched. Then the baby stopped and looked around in confusion. It was as if he recognized the form, but knew that that form was missing a vital element.

  “They’re no longer with us, Charles,” said Alice, repeating his name, which he seemed to know. He swung his head to look at Alice again and gave a small, uncertain smile. “But you must know they loved you and cared for you your whole life up till now. And now it’s my turn. And I promise I will not fail you.”

  She laid her hand on the mother’s hands as a gesture of reassurance. “I promise,” she repeated, except this time to the mother.

  She did the same to the dead child. “God bless.” She gave the sign of the cross and murmured a blessing before covering them both. She shivered then and, wiping away a tear, she stepped out into the fresh chill of the dawn air. She glanced down at the baby in her arms whose eyes watched her every move, as if uncertain about her. She smiled reassuringly and received a smile that was tenta
tive at first but then suddenly blossomed into a grin and a gurgle, along with a little milk that smeared his lips. She laughed and heard someone call her name.

  She looked up to see William smiling at her. He walked over. “It’s good to see you happy.” He pushed the covers away from the baby’s cheeks, and his smile broadened. “He’s a bonny boy, that’s for sure, and he looks like he’s happy to be in your arms.” William looked up and caught her eye. “And who wouldn’t be?”

  William didn’t usually talk like this, and the cheekiness of his comment made her burst out in laughter. Katherine passed by and grinned. It seems laughing and smiling wasn’t something people usually heard from Alice. She hadn’t even realized it.

  William glanced across at the men who he’d been talking to earlier, who appeared intent on talking to everyone in the bailey yard. All signs of humor had gone.

  “Who are those men, William?”

  “They’re from the magistrates’ court.” His lips thinned. “They’re here about the looting. Looking for men to prosecute.”

  “But surely they won’t find any? You made sure of that.”

  “I certainly tried to,” he said. “But there are those who were too quick, and who disappeared into the darkness before I could reach them.”

  “Do you know of these men? Do they?”

  “Aye, I do. But they do not.” His lips set grimly. “Not yet. And I pray to God that their bribes do not work on the others to reveal their names.”

  “Why, what would happen?”

  “They would be taken to court, found guilty, and hung.”

  “Then surely no one will inform, will they?”

  William shrugged. “The harvest was good, our people have food, but for some of the larger families, there’s never enough. Try to get a man to pass up on a barrel of brandy when he’s been drinking weak ale all his life.” He shook his head. “They are poor men, Alice, and used to taking advantage whenever they can. They think of it as a gift from the sea.”