by Bobbi Smith
“Yes, my lord.” Sir Thomas felt relief at his order. The man called the Black Hawk was obviously in great pain, and he remembered Hereld’s warning that the prisoner must be kept alive.
“The Black Hawk seems weak, but do not trust him. He is known for his strength and fearlessness.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Brage was trying to focus on what was being discussed, but everything seemed to get farther and farther away, moving ever downward in a spiral.
“Edmund, accompany me.” Lord Alfrick moved off toward his chambers with his son, leaving Sir Thomas to take charge of the prisoner.
Sir Thomas removed the chains from Brage. He had seen seriously injured men before, and he knew this man’s display was no act. He could see the feverish look in his eyes. Sir Thomas only hoped Lord Alfrick realized it and ordered that he be treated soon.
“Move!” he directed, pointing the way toward the tower stairs.
Brage was pleased to be unshackled, but he could summon no strength to try an escape. He was not sure whether they were going to kill him or let him go, but either would have been a release.
He started off in the direction Sir Thomas had pointed. The Great Hall tilted crazily around him and all noise seemed magnified. He fought to keep his focus on putting one foot in front of the other, but his legs did not seem willing to cooperate. Only the sheer force of his will kept him upright and drove him onward. When suddenly he felt himself grow even dizzier, he swayed and reached out to brace himself against a table.
Sir Thomas saw him stagger and barked orders to the others in the hall. Two men came running to help.
“Take him to the tower room,” he ordered.
The two lifted Brage’s arms around their shoulders and started toward the steps. Brage groaned as pain from his shoulder wound knifed through him. He sagged weakly between the Saxons. Slumped as he was, the two were forced to half carry, half drag him up the stairs.
“I do not understand why you did not leave him with the dogs,” Sir Edmund complained to his father. “The Black Hawk is hated throughout the land. Why should he be taken out of chains?”
“Put your bloodlust aside and think of the fortune that will be ours when he is returned to his people. He is worth nothing to us dead. Now bring Lady Dynna to me. I will send her to tend to him.”
“Why Dynna? Why not send one of the old women to nurse him? I do not want my betrothed healing that cur.”
“My son, you make no sense. Dynna is the best of our healers. If the Black Hawk dies, we will have nothing. She has worked wonders before our very eyes with her talent. She has the ability to keep this man alive.”
“I will not have it!” He was furious over his father’s dictates.
Lord Alfrick’s voice turned icy. “I say to you, my son, I am lord here. My word is law. The Black Hawk must be alive when Anslak arrives with the gold. I will do whatever I must do to see that he survives. After the gold is in our hands, I do not care what happens to him, but until then, Lady Dynna will care for him.”
Edmund ground his teeth in frustration as he bowed to his father’s wishes. “I will find her and bring her to you.”
He was fuming as he mounted the steps to Dynna’s chamber, then pounded on the door. When it opened, he found himself confronted by Matilda. His frustration grew even more, for the maid’s expression turned suspicious and sullen when she saw who stood there.
“I must speak with Dynna,” he stated.
“One moment.” Matilda closed the door again before he could walk into the room. Lady Dynna had told her what had happened between them at their meeting, and she wanted to give her a moment of privacy to prepare herself before facing him.
Dynna had been embroidering a gown when the knock came. She was staring at the door now, her color pale. “It is Sir Edmund, is it not?”
“Yes, my lady.”
Dynna had stayed closeted in her room, trying to avoid just such an encounter. She did not want to speak to Edmund ever again if she could help it. Yet now, here he was at her chamber door.
“He says he must speak to you right away.”
Dynna put aside her sewing and rose slowly, mentally girding herself for the confrontation to come. She had known there could be no hiding from him. She had just hoped he would stay away a while longer. It pained her to have to see him after his threats. Her mood was dark, and she felt very isolated as she readied herself to face him.
“Thank you, Matilda. Please stay close by me, unless I dismiss you.”
“Yes, my lady.”
When she had her courage up, Dynna opened the door to face her intended. “Yes, Sir Edmund? Matilda said you wanted to see me.”
He stood in the hall waiting for her to come to him. There was no denying that he was handsome. It wasn’t the physical part of him that repelled her. It was the evilness and cruelty in him. She kept her physical distance from him. He was looking at her with a heated hunger that left her feeling almost sullied.
“My father wants to see you. He is waiting below to speak with you.”
“Is something wrong?”
“No, nothing is wrong. Is it so unusual for him to summon you?”
“He is a busy man who has little time during the course of his day to concern himself with me. It is a rare moment when he wants to see me other than at meal time.”
“I, however, want to see you all the time,” Edmund told her in a lower voice as he took a step closer. “And I concern myself with you all the time.”
Dynna stepped back away from him. “Your father awaits me, Sir Edmund. Matilda? I believe we should go below-stairs.”
The maid came to her, and together they moved past him. He followed close behind them, enjoying the movement of Dynna’s hips beneath the soft wool of her slim-fitting gown. The night would come when he would have the right to strip that garment from her and take her. He was counting the days until the priest returned to the tower. In just a few weeks, she would be his—in all ways.
Dynna did not speak on the way down to the Great Hall. She wondered what Lord Alfrick wanted of her and knew it had to be important. As she reached the last curve in the steps, her gaze went to the area where the Viking should have been chained. She was startled to find he was gone, the chains hanging empty from the wall.
Fear struck Dynna’s heart. Brage had not looked well the night before when she had tried to go to him. It horrified her to think that he might have died from his injuries overnight, or worse yet, to imagine that Edmund had slain him.
“Where is the Viking? What has happened to him?” she asked.
“Do not concern yourself with him.”
“Has he died?” She had to know.
“Your worry for him is touching, my sweet,” he sneered.
“He was feverish last night. Has he died of his wounds?”
Edmund was wishing it was that easy. “You will know his fate soon enough.” His answer was curt, for he was not pleased that she showed such concern for the man.
Dynna feared the worst. She practically ran the rest of the way to Lord Alfrick. “Yes, Lord Alfrick. Sir Edmund said that you wanted to see me.”
“I have learned important information today.” At her puzzled look, he continued. “It seems our prisoner is no ordinary Viking warrior after all. We have discovered that he is the Black Hawk, the leader of the raid against us.”
“He is the Black Hawk?” she gasped. Her surprise was real, for she did not know how he could have learned of the Norseman’s true identity. “How did you discover this?”
“Hereld, the merchant trader, had seen the Black Hawk before. He identified him. Once we learned who he was—”
“Is he dead? Have you had him killed?” Pain stabbed at her heart as she imagined the fierce warrior murdered while in chains, helpless to defend himself.
Her reaction again annoyed Edmund.
“No, the Black Hawk is yet alive. I have had him taken to one of the tower rooms so he can be more comfortable while we
await a response to the ransom demand I have sent to his people.”
At the news that he was still alive, she had to fight back a sigh of relief.
“However, I am concerned about his physical condition,” Lord Alfrick continued. “I fear it is not good. His father, Anslak, will pay a large sum to have him returned, so we must see that he is healed, and quickly. That is why I called you here. I want you to get your healing basket and tend him. You are our most gifted healer. If anyone can save him, it is you.”
Dynna bowed her head at his words. Lord Alfrick thought by her posture that she was pleased by his compliment. In fact, Dynna was giving thanks that the Viking was still alive. She did not question why she was so pleased to hear the news.
“I shall do your bidding, my lord.”
“Edmund, take Lady Dynna to our prisoner and see that she has everything she needs.
“I still disagree with your decision to send Dynna to him, Father. Surely there is some other healer who could do this,” Edmund argued.
“Dynna will do this,” he dictated.
“Yes, Father.”
Edmund escorted Dynna and Matilda to the top of the tower and into the secluded chamber where the Black Hawk was being kept. This particular room had been chosen because its location was isolated and it could be easily guarded. As they reached the door, Edmund grasped Dynna’s arm to prevent her from entering.
“Had I my way, I would not have sent you to tend him. I do not want your hands upon him.”
“Your father has commanded that I heal him. I can do no less,” she answered. She was pretending to submit to her future father-in-law’s wishes, but she was really anxious to get to the wounded man quickly and ease his suffering.
Matilda wished she had the power to make Sir Edmund leave Dynna alone. She shifted her position as a reminder to him that she was standing there with them, and was pleased when he let her go.
Edmund knocked on the door, and when Sir Thomas opened it to them, he announced that he had brought Lady Dynna and her maid.
“My lady, it is good that you have come.” Sir Thomas smiled warmly at Dynna.
She glanced across the room toward the bed where the Viking lay.
“He is not well. Two of the men had to help bring him up here,” Sir Thomas explained.
“Is it the fever?” she asked, her expression clouded with worry.
“Aye.”
“I had feared as much last evening. It is good that I am here now. He has lost much blood and will only grow worse without help.”
“I had the men undress him so you could tend his wound.” Sir Thomas stood back to allow them to enter. He had had one of the men take Brage’s vest to Lord Alfrick, so he could give it to Hereld to take with him and prove to Anslak that Brage was their captive.
Dynna’s gaze swept the chamber, and she found it little better than a prison cell. The windows were slits in the thick tower walls, suitable for defense with a bow and arrow but not for admitting much light or breeze. It was dark and dank and unfurnished save for the hard bed Brage lay upon and the small table beside it.
Dynna’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of the Viking lying on the bed on his stomach, stripped of his clothing with only a sheet covering him to his waist. His broad back and powerful shoulders were laid bare to her gaze. It was then that she saw the wound for the first time and truly feared for his life. It was an ugly gash that was swollen and festering. She crossed the room to his side, expecting some movement, some recognition that she was there, but he was strangely still. His face was turned toward the wall. She did not know if he was conscious.
Edmund remained back by the door with Sir Thomas. She still found his presence stifling, but was resigned to the fact that there was nothing she could do about it. He would leave her alone when he was ready to, and not before.
“Viking . . .” she said softly as she knelt beside the bed. “I have come to help you.”
Brage heard Dynna’s voice and turned his head to look at her. He wanted to get up, to face her as a warrior from a position of strength, but he could not summon the energy to do more than stare at her. “Why?” he asked hoarsely.
“I know you are in pain. I will do what I can to ease it.” Dynna could see the hatred and distrust mirrored in his eyes, but what troubled her more was his weakened condition and the inflammation of his wound. His face was flushed with the heat of his fever and he was bloodstained and filthy from the days in battle and then in chains.
“I prefer death to endless torment, my lady.” Brage’s voice was weak, but his sarcasm unmistakable.
“No one will torture you here,” Dynna promised, reaching out to touch his shoulder, wanting to examine him.
Brage shifted away, trying to avoid her hands, but when he moved, pain slashed though him. The agony was so great that he moaned, weakened even more by the effort.
Dynna saw his distress and stood, returning to Sir Thomas and Matilda who were still standing by the open door. “Matilda, go to our chamber and bring my basket—quickly. Sir Thomas, I need water, hot water, and much of it.”
“Yes, my lady.” They both hurried away.
“Will he survive?” Edmund asked.
“I do not know. He has lost so much blood . . . and his wound is infected.”
Dynna returned to Brage. His eyes were closed, his expression one of rigid control. She laid a hand upon his arm, and the heat emanating from him was almost scorching. She could not stifle a gasp as she looked closely at the ugly wound.
“It amazes me that you are this seriously injured and are still alert. A lesser man would have been laid low by this,” she said.
She remained by his side, talking to him in soft, comforting tones even though he did not respond. Edmund stood silently in the background, looking on in anger.
Sir Thomas returned, followed by two female servants carrying buckets of water. Edmund directed the women to bathe the prisoner. They were afraid of the Viking at first, but Sir Thomas told them he would stand guard while they washed him. Brage offered no resistance to their ministrations, uttering only a guttural sound when he was forced to move. The women hurriedly performed their duty, then covered him again and left the room.
Dynna met Matilda in the hall as she returned with her medicines. When the servants had gone, Dynna went back into the chamber to treat his injury. Sir Thomas remained there with her, standing back with Edmund to watch.
With a light and gentle touch, Dynna washed the festering wound.
Excruciating pain sliced through Brage as she cleansed the infected area, and he closed his eyes against the agony of it. He had thought he would not be tortured here. Sweat beaded his brow. He lay, his jaw locked, his every muscle rigid as she probed the gash. As harrowing as it was, though, he did not try to avoid her touch. His control over his body was complete. He remained still as she sought to help him.
“I am sorry,” she told him in a low voice, knowing how much it had to hurt.
“Do what you must,” he answered tightly.
“I am almost done with the washing.”
She finished cleaning the wound, then quickly turned her attention to making the poultice that would both draw the poisons out and ease his pain. She mixed the herbs and a yellow powder made from roots into a thick paste.
“This will hurt when I put it on,” she cautioned.
Brage nodded once and waited in tense anticipation for her to finish.
Dynna leaned over Brage and very carefully applied the healing plaster to the injury. A slight shudder wracked him as the medicine touched his damaged flesh, but other than that he did not move. She was amazed by the discipline he had over himself and knew this was just an example of his strength.
After binding the shoulder wound, Dynna turned her attention to the cut on the side of his head. Blood from that injury had dried and matted in his hair. As she started to wash it away, she felt Brage’s gaze upon her. He watched her intently as she doctored the cut, applying the necessary
medicine.
“You are very brave,” she said, letting her hand rest on his arm.
Brage did not know why, but he found comfort in that simple touch. He told himself it was the fever that was making him weak.
Edmund saw the touch and was annoyed. “Have you finished?” he demanded of Dynna.
“For now.”
“Then come with me. I will take you to my father, and we can tell him of the Viking’s condition.”
“I will go with you for a moment, but I must return and sit with him tonight. If his fever worsens, someone has to be here who knows how to help.” She stood up and put away her medicines.
“I will stay until you return,” Sir Thomas offered. “Then for the rest of the night, I will leave a guard outside the door.”
“Thank you, Sir Thomas,” Dynna said. “Also, could you have a chair and a cot brought in here. Matilda will be staying with me, and there is no reason why we cannot take turns resting while we watch his progress.”
“As you wish, my lady.”
Brage watched silently as Dynna left the room at Sir Edmund’s side. He did not understand why the Saxons were suddenly concerned about his health. Now that they knew who he was, it seemed more logical to keep torturing him, to leave him hanging in the chains until he was dead.
The dizziness that had assailed him earlier was still with him, clouding his thinking, but he had to admit that the poultice she had used on his back was working. Already he could feel a blessed numbness in the wound where before it had felt as if he were on fire. As the pain eased, a terrible weariness overtook Brage and he slept.
Lord Alfrick listened to Dynna’s description of the Black Hawk’s wounds. “Will he survive?”
“I cannot say for certain, my lord. It would have been far better if I had been allowed to treat him that first day. I could have prevented the infection. Now . . .” The seriousness of her concern showed clearly on her features. “It will be several days before I know. His fever is high.”
“You will stay with him and do whatever is necessary to make sure he does not die. If there is anything you need, you have only to ask.”
