The Lost Lady

by Amelia Brown

  When men came to take him, she refused, and the prince held her tighter for he had heard Sterling’s promise too. She walked until she stood before the King’s tent, and it was he and not one of his servants that held the flap for her. Luveday stepped inside, took two strides, set the boy down and fell to her knees utterly spent.

  Word traveled through the camp quickly. A woman was crossing the field, and every able man ran to see the sight for himself. Some recognized the little healer for she had been through the camp healing anyone who needed her skills. Those who did not know her knew of her and were reminded that she was captured some days ago by the enemy. That she carried a boy on her back did not surprise them, as many knew her passion for healing the sick and many recognized one of the missing pages, though which one it was, they could not say.

  By evening everyone had heard that Luveday had carried the prince back from the enemy camp and that the King had given her his eternal gratitude, no matter that the method of his safe return was unbefitting a prince. They lauded the lady’s cunning and were more determined than ever to defeat their enemy.

  Someone returned with the items from Luveday’s pot, and she was sorry that the task was such an odious one, but the items needed to be cleaned. Once she had delivered the messages to the King, given him the tokens and told her tale, Luveday wanted nothing more than to seek out a bath and her warm bed while the men made plans to retrieve what was taken from them, yet she was not given leave to go.

  The King continued to give her looks that spoke of the depth of his love for his son. The remaining lords bickered among themselves with Iain standing guard behind her. She felt that many of the looks Edward cast her way were really meant for De Lane, but she was too tired to try to look and gage the champion’s reaction, and she knew better than to ask for an explanation here.

  Iain had asked her if she was hurt, with an emphasis she couldn’t mistake. Her reply was as serious as his tone and a simple, “No.” The breath he expelled was too powerful to be a sigh and too quiet to be a growl. For a moment she thought she had seen the sheen of moisture in his eyes, but he looked away and when he looked back again it was gone. He nodded to her, as she sat in a canvas folding chair and willed the proceedings to their conclusion.

  Luveday had been unaware at the time, but Iain had been on the battlefield during her sojourn, though not close to her. He had recognized the slight figure from afar having watched her for months previous. He was frozen with fear at the sight and rode his mount to camp a moment after she crossed the line. He was forced to wait as men piled into the King’s tent. By the time he entered Luveday was on her knees, holding a sobbing prince Benjamin who looked as if he were crushing the lady’s neck. Only the King could pry him loose, and then the two royals embraced for a length of time. Luveday was escorted to a chair where she collapsed until someone revived her with wine. Iain stole a moment to talk to her and was sure that his unspoken question was clear in his eyes. “No.” It was such a simple answer, but it lifted a burden off of his heart he could scarcely imagine. Blinking back the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him, Iain became her silent protector, her shadow, and steeped himself in patience until the facts were brought before the King.

  Benedict had returned with news from inside the enemy camp that morning. Wary and concerned for the lady, Iain had never seen his friend so bleak. They exchanged a knowing look that settled his men, more than anything that was said.

  After she had explained, and her messages had been delivered, after the tokens were handed over and Benjamin had hugged her a dozen more times, they looked to get the lady’s opinion on the enemies’ defenses only to find her sleeping deeply, curled up in the chair.

  Iain gathered her to him, gave the King a nod of his head and carried her back to his tent. He stayed outside while young Clair helped her bathe, and dress for bed. By the time he entered the tent dark had fallen, but his men still lingered around the fire wary as they were. They had asked him only if the lady was well, and with each gruff affirmation, he saw the same burden lift from his men, especially John who had not stopped blaming himself for her loss since that day Iain had confronted him demanding to know what had happened.

  The night wore on, but a precious candle burned in De Lane’s tent. Coll slept between Luveday and his lord, unwilling to leave her side and Iain couldn’t blame him. If it were up to him, Iain would be wrapped around her small frame, where he could protect her from all harm, but he knew in his current state, he’d not be able to leave the lady alone. He’d take her, and destroy what he wished to cherish the most. So instead, he kept watch in the night until she was truly safe and to his thinking, that would not happen until he had Sterling’s head on a silver plate.

  Chapter 10

  For ‘tis not in mere death that men die most.

  ~ Elizabeth Barret Browning

  Luveday was unaware of the plans the King was making. Many were reluctant to let her return to her previous duties, though she assured them no real harm had come to her. Iain finally gave in though it took two days of arguing back and forth. There was no thought of sending her home, once the enemy knew of her deception, Iain feared an ambush on the road to reward his lady’s cunning. So, he stayed by her side when he could, or fighting hard to win the battle that had become so personal for him, thanks to her capture. Healing was healing, though she insisted on seeing to the captured soldiers as well as their own. After she saw the way Sterling had treated their men, she could not let it happen here.

  It was several hard winter days after her return that Clair arrived with an invitation. Her mistress, Madame Jane, as Clair called her, had requested that Luveday join her that afternoon. While Luveday had helped to treat the camp followers, she had never truly interacted with them and was kept from their section of camp as if some association might taint her. As if she didn’t know what the ladies were there for.

  Iain was gone, Coll was running errands, and when the time to set out came around, there was no reason to stay at the healing tents. Luveday took with her a basket that carried a teapot and two cups, rose hip tea and a small clay jar of honey. She hoped the offering wouldn’t be turned away, for she was fascinated by what little Clair had told Luveday of her life in the camp.

  Clair led the way to what Luveday had termed the restricted section. The tents here were much smaller but brightly colored. Decorations seemed to hang from every flap and pole, each different from the other and Luveday wondered if they were identifications of some sort.

  When she asked Clair about them, the girl confirmed her suspicion. “Aye, some of the beads tell men the price for a woman, some show her age, and some show her health. It is how the men can find a woman they like after the camp moves.” The tents ranged in size, and many seemed to house a number of women. A group exited a tent as a man was pulled inside by a busty young blonde. The women looked at her curiously as they passed and Luveday nodded to them in greeting. “Not far now, Lady Luveday.”

  Whispers followed her. The woman knew who she was. They arrived at a series of covered wagons, one with what looked to be a sort of stove, billowing smoke out of the top. She had only seen the like in the King’s tents, not even De Lane possessed one. They stopped before a wagon that had all the trappings of a gypsy cart and was as luxurious as one of the tiny portable homes that had started to be so popular in her own world.

  Clair knocked lightly on the wooden door which swung open a moment later. They were both greeted by name by one of the most beautiful women Luveday had ever seen. Madame Jane was younger than Luveday would have imagined, perhaps in her early thirties, perhaps a little older. She had perfect ringlets of black hair, and for a moment she reminded Luveday of Cassandra, but there was something to the woman that the healer didn’t possess. “Clair, thank you for showing Lady Luveday the way.” She looked Luveday in the eye as she moved out of the narrow doorway. “Come in, My Lady.”

  “Thank you, Clair.” Luveday was about to ascend the small three-step ladder i
nto the wagon when Clair tugged on her sleeve, and she heard the girl whisper.

  “Don’t worry, Luveday. Jane is a fair woman; you’ll like her.” Luveday was about to reply that she thought she already did, but the girl was gone.

  Luveday was quick to close the door behind her, not wanting any of the wonderful heat to escape. “Thank you for inviting me, Madame Jane.” The inside of the wagon was much as Luveday expected it to be. There was a bed in a loft with a small ladder, there was a table and two chairs with cushions, there were brightly colored fabrics and drapes over the canvas sides of the wagon. The wooden sides only went as far as Luveday’s hip, but the space was much warmer than even her own tent.

  “It is I who should be thanking you, Lady Luveday. And you may call me Jane if you wish.” She smiled as she looked to Luveday’s basket with curiosity.

  “Please call me Luveday. I’ve brought tea.” She offered an explanation.

  “How lovely,” Jane said sincerely and poured out some water into a kettle and put it on the stove. They sat around the small table as the water heated. “I must extend my gratitude for the help you have given my girls, and for all you are teaching little Clair.”

  “Clair has been a great help to me.” Luveday watched the laugh lines around her eyes crinkle as Jane smiled. “She learns quickly, and had some skill with healing before she came to me.”

  “Aye, Anne took care of Clair when she first came to us. Anne was old, even when I first met her as a young woman. She was a healer, and Clair learned at her knee.” Her affection for the old woman was clear in her voice, but there was sadness also.

  “I take it that Anne has passed away.” Luveday’s heart went out to her, she had become very familiar with loss lately.

  “Aye. Over a year now. Her death has left a hole in our little group that Clair has tried to fill. A healer is something we desperately need.” There was a pointed look in Jane’s eyes.

  Luveday got the feeling that her companion was hinting at offering such a position to her. It was an interesting thought, but she wouldn’t join that world unless she had no other choice. Clair had spoken highly of Jane, making her sound more like a mother, or a benevolent ruler than a Madame of a brothel and that underlying kindness is what had Luveday so interested in these women and a fate she felt she had narrowly escaped herself.

  “I imagine such skill is very useful. Perhaps with a little more training Clair will be able to take on that role in earnest.” Luveday gave her answer as politely as she could.

  Jane’s smile held a hint of humor, perhaps the Madame was not expecting so civil a rebuff, but she understood and let Luveday know she conceded the point. “I had not thought so up until now, but perhaps you are right.” The kettle began to clink. “I think the water is ready.” She got up and carefully took the hot kettle off the stove. Luveday had the teapot ready for her and watched her graceful movements. There had been rumors that Jane had once belonged to the King, and at that moment Luveday believed them to be true. Jane had a regal elegance; it was the kind of confidence any woman would long to possess.

  As the tea steeped, Luveday thought they had passed the point in the discussion where they could now get down to business, and she had some questions about Jane and her women. “Clair told me that you look after the other women. You don’t force them to work and make them take care of their health.” She paused. “That doesn’t sound like any woman in your position I have heard of.”

  “About that you are correct.” Jane looked at her earnestly, and a game smile relaxed her features. “Clair was right about you. I will have to thank the girl for disobeying me and staying with you. I think we will be good friends.” Jane seemed to have settled something for herself.

  “I think so too. Now, what can I do to help?” Luveday was sure they would be seeing more of each other, and her questions could wait a little longer.

  Laughing, Jane turned and pulled out a small bundle of biscuits and set them on the table. “To the point, Lady. I like it.” Luveday brought out the honey and set it between them. Jane looked surprised but delighted. “You are a woman with a good heart, Luveday. There are not many in this world, to begin with, and life has a way of turning us cold and bitter if we are not careful.” Jane looked at the biscuits, but Luveday knew she saw something else. A heartbeat later her eyes snapped back to Luveday and the moment had passed. “The cold is hard on us, though we have been through worse I assure you.” Luveday could only imagine and tried to hide the shudder that serious tone sent down her spine. “My girls are hearty, but not all of the others are faring so well. Some think they can make it on their own, but there is strength and security in numbers.” Luveday nodded her understanding. “Some of the others have asked for my help, but I have barely enough to care for my own girls let alone a few dozen more. I need your help.” Luveday was surprised when Jane grabbed her hand, and by the desperation in her cultured voice.

  Luveday had already decided to do what she could for these women. Perhaps it was the feminist in her, or the healer’s spirit she came by so honestly thanks to her mother, but Clair and the stories of Jane and her band of sisters had moved Luveday. Yet again her mind returned to the bleak possibilities of what could have happened if Gregori had not found her. How easily their fate could have been hers. Nodding, Luveday tried to reassure her. “I will do what I can. My supplies are low, but more should be coming soon, I’ve sent a missive with the men. For now, we will have to make do with what is available. You may send women to the healing tent,” but Luveday hesitated at the idea of mixing men and women, not that modesty was very big with any of them. “I can return in a few days after Clair and I have brewed up some items, and see to your women. Perhaps if there was a tent large enough to hold a few of us.” Luveday was thinking quickly. Most of her healing ointments would work for men or women, but there were some things a woman would need that she had had no reason to stock when treating battle wounds.

  “Lady, we will owe you a great debt. We have taken up some coin…” Jane moved to retrieve the purse, but Luveday stopped her.

  “I have not asked coin from the knights, I will not ask it of you, but if you wish to help, perhaps your women might have some things I will need.” Jane sat down, intrigued and grateful for the lady’s generosity.

  They talked for some time, drank two cups of tea and ate their biscuits. Luveday listed off the herbs and supplies she would need to treat the women, and Jane knew that among her group alone they had most of the list. When a heavy knock came to the door, both women jumped. There were male voices outside.

  “I am not expecting anyone,” Jane said flatly.

  Luveday looked to her and blanched when someone outside called her by name. Luveday recognized that voice immediately.

  Jane must have guessed what was going on for she said, “I think you have stayed too long, Luveday.”

  Luveday swallowed and quickly collected her things. “I think you are right.” There was another knock at the door, and Luveday could have sworn the force of it rocked the wagon.

  Jane opened the door for her, and the men took a step back. She turned back inside to her guest. As Luveday passed her, Jane inquired quietly, “Are you sure you will be able to return?”

  “Oh, I will be back.” Luveday lifted her head and descended the steps with an air that was worthy of Jane.

  Luveday had never seen Iain so upset with her. She followed along beside him constantly aware of the hand that rested at the base of her spine. He wouldn’t let her put any space between them and trying to match his long strides was wearing her out. He hadn’t said more than a few words before he and the men with him circled around her and began the trek home. None of the women had called to them, no one they happened to meet stopped to have a word. Though several men seemed as if they had approached for a reason, they had quickly turned and headed in a different direction. Luveday couldn’t see Iain’s expression, but from the reactions of others, she gathered that it was set in stone.

 
By the time they reached the area between the healing tents and their own, Luveday had thought of several reasons why what she did was wrong and several reasons why she was free to go, but one look at Iain as he shoved her into the tent silenced her.

  Stumbling inside, she found Coll seated in his usual spot by the door, working on a bit of leather. He looked up at her and back down at his hands without so much as a smile and Luveday realized something was very wrong. She moved deeper into the tent, making room for De Lane who seemed to take up more of the space than usual.

  She waited. He stared. Neither said anything.

  Iain gave in first.

  “Of all the places I could have found you! What the hell were you doing there, Luveday?!” He began to pace, moving his hands through his hair in frustration. “Do you know how long we were looking for you?”

  A light went on inside Luveday’s head. Perhaps it wasn’t where she was that had angered him so much, but that he didn’t know where to find her. She had left word with Margaret and Thomas, but perhaps they had not stopped to inform De Lane. She didn’t have an argument for his worry.

  “You left without a word. Coll came back, and you were gone,” He gestured wildly at the boy who watched them with a shocked expression. “John waited for me at the line, with news that he couldn’t find you. Do you know what that did to me? To him? You can’t just disappear like that! Do you understand me?” He grabbed her by the shoulders so that he could look her in the eyes, watching her answer.

  He was worried about her; she had scared him, and Luveday didn’t think that was an emotion he was familiar with. The guilt that assailed her was instantaneous and heavier than Iain’s armor. “I’m sorry,” was all she could push past the lump in her throat.