by Amelia Brown
Luveday looked around bemused as Iain stayed silent by her side. “What is all of this?” She finally asked, noticing that her voice carried a little across the stream.
“Clair and the women brought you a tub, some fine soap, and oil for your hair. They suggested that you might like to bathe. The fire should keep you warm for a bit. The water’s hot and the tub is full. I’d hurry though, ‘tis bound to grow cold in this weather.” Iain grew uncomfortable for a moment as she just stood there looking at him. “The women thought you might like it. I suggested the tent, but they said you would prefer some time alone, outside of camp. It’s the best I could do…” She put a hand on his arm as he crossed them in front of him in a defensive manner.
“Thank you.” She looked out at the steaming bath, her clean garments and toiletries waiting, and it brought tears to her eyes. “Thank you, and thank the women for me.” He nodded.
De Lane moved to step beyond the screen, and she called out to him. “You won’t be far?”
He looked back at her with a pinched expression. Luveday couldn’t tell if it was anger or pain. “No, not far.” She was unsure if he heard her whispered gratitude or not.
She stripped quickly, not knowing how long the hot water would last. Her undergarments were little protection from the cold as she decided to go to the water’s edge and scrub her gown and body before using the tub. She felt unclean, more from recent events than any lack of hygiene. The water was colder than she imagined and couldn’t help the startled noise that escaped her. She called out that she was fine, not sure who was out there and might come to her rescue. She heard movement around her, but no one approached.
The tub was little more than a wash bin, but it was full of steaming water, with buckets of cold and hot water in reach and a pot boiling over the fire. Luveday soaped down and washed off outside of the tub, before sinking into the blessed warmth. The fire was close enough to ward off the chill with its heat, and the screens helped to corral what warmth there was while halting the soft breeze.
This was heaven. She had not realized how much she had truly missed bathing. The quick wash downs in the tent were enough to placate her modern sensibilities, but those quick endeavors were not a proper bath. She used a wooden bowl to wet her hair and lathered it with a flowery soap. She rinsed it over the edge of the tub, before getting up to put in more water. Her wound was not deep though it stung under her vigorous cleaning. She was more than happy for the chance to relax, not realizing how much the constant presence of others had begun to weigh on her.
She didn’t know how long she rested there, but she didn’t wait for the water to cool. Finished bathing, Luveday longed to linger even knowing that the cold would turn her wet body to one of ice in minutes. Luckily, the temperature had not dropped enough to produce snow again.
Luveday dried off and dressed while sitting as close to the fire as she dare. “Iain?” She called. “Lord Iain?” He appeared around the corner of the screen and looked at her with an expression she couldn’t read. She smiled at him as she finished drying her hair with a piece of linen. She was fully dressed in her nightclothes with her cloak wrapped around her. Looking at his hooded gaze, she became worried. “Did I take too long?”
Stepping closer he didn’t answer, only lifted a strand of hair and seemed to test it. She pulled back to get a better look at him, but the movement caused him to drop the strand. The moment was suddenly intense, and the silence deep. Luveday sat gazing up at him, and he looked down to her, but neither moved and barely drew breath until some noise from the woods beyond their little ball of light caused him to remember the time and place.
He scanned their surroundings. “If you are done, we best head back.” His voice seemed too deep in the quiet.
“What about all of this?” She gestured around her.
“It will be taken care of. For now, you need to rest.” He took her hand, pulling her to her feet. For a moment she thought he might sweep her up into his arms, but they stared at each other a split second before he turned to guide her back to camp. Figures brushed past them as they moved towards the ever-present rumble of the King’s army. Luveday wanted to stop and thank the women, but Iain’s grip on her was tight and brokered no delays.
She was deposited inside their tent where Coll waited with a hot meal and lively conversation. The boy showed his concern by not leaving her side and chatting about every bit of news and anything he thought important. Luveday laughed a good deal, amused by what a twelve-year-old boy thought was news. It was not long until the bath, and the warm food began to take its toll. Luveday fought to keep her eyes open in the lamp light, but it soon became too much.
Strong arms lifted her and settled her into her palette. Luveday roused enough to be aware of the warm presence that lingered by her side and a gentle hand that brushed across her cheek. Sleep claimed her again, and her last fleeting thought was for Iain De Lane.
Dawn was as brisk as ever, and maybe it was the long nights, but Luveday felt as if she’d rested better than she had in weeks. Men and women were already huddled around their fire as she emerged from the tent. Compassion filled eyes followed her with unwavering scrutiny. Luveday ignored what she could, and took comfort in her familiar routine. Luveday met Coll beside the fire, the boy had run out of the tent a moment before her, too eager to fetch her anything she might need. Food and drink seemed like manna from heaven as she sat amongst her friends and broke a late fast.
Iain was nowhere to be seen, but Gregori or Benedict were never far from hand. The day wore on with visits from the camp women. Luveday thanked them for their kindness the night before, and saw to any issues they might have, often offering some food or a hot drink on this chilly day.
Thomas didn’t ask how she faired, merely looked her up and down, nodded and got back to work. The injured grew less and less as an uneasy negotiation had started between the two groups. Luveday wondered how the incident in her tent would impact the cease-fire.
Luveday had reassured the majority of her followers that she was, in fact, alright and no wilting flower. She was ready for the distraction of dinner and found Benedict had returned from a brief sojourn to the King’s tent for news. It was clear to her that he was worried about her for the talkative lordling was remarkably quiet at times. He had at first tried to distract her with charming banter, but Luveday was not happy with the disruption in her tent. She had things to do, a daily mental checklist and though she was glad to see him for several days in a row, Luveday was not happy that every step she took had been to dance around her new shadow.
Iain appeared sometime around nightfall. The camp seemed to clear as he took up a seat next to her, a spot that until a moment before had been the home of Sir John Templeton, her other shadow.
They sat in silence for a moment as men departed to their own tents and campfires. Luveday was secretly amazed at how many people continued to come and check on her. Even Jane had sent her well wishes, though Luveday thought it was silly that the Madame stayed away least the connection bring Luveday’s character into question. Still, people had been in and out of the healing tents every day; many were men she had seen to or who had someone who was cared for by her own hands. Now the area was nearly deserted.
“You remember your promise,” Iain spoke with his head turned toward her, so close that she felt the breath of his words against her cheek.
Luveday didn’t have to think about which promise he referred to; there was only one that he would bring up now. “Yes, I remember.” In fact, she had been expecting him to remind her of it every day after her stay in the enemy camp, but he hadn’t. This last misadventure was apparently too much for him, but she couldn’t blame him.
“Luveday,” He obviously expected some fight, but the truth was that even she was wary of the task she had set for herself. She sighed, and Iain’s gaze sharpened. “‘Tis time you went home, lady.”
“Yes, My Lord.” She stood up and went back into the tent, there was much to do before she left
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Chapter 11
Best be yourself, imperial, plain and true.
~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning
The morning was not as cold as everyone had expected. The sky was overcast, and the clouds had kept the temperature from dropping too low. Fog meandered through the camp, ghosting around tents and the legs of the horses. Luveday’s horse was saddled and ready to go. The lady had said her goodbyes the day before, had even finished resupplying the healing tent with the common herbs and ointments. She was confident in her work and happy to go home. The letter she had received from Lady Emmalyn had only made her miss her friends more, and yet she would miss the people here too, but Luveday realized that she had done all she could.
Sterling and the King were in negotiations, though not face to face. After her attacker’s capture, many of the mercenaries were unhappy with the would-be King, and his support was failing. Iain watched for treachery as he expected Sterling to pull some stunt before giving over. Word had come that morning that Sterling looked as if he was readying to flee, and the King was ready to give chase. The enemy would receive no quarter.
This morning Iain and the men lingered around her, helping with what they could. Iain watched with a dark expression, and yet he seemed relieved that she was going. Luveday tried not to take it to heart, she knew that her near misses with disaster had worried them all greatly. Even she knew that she was running out of luck and would be unlikely to get away unscathed the next time.
As the sun made a valiant effort to overpower the clouds, Iain finally gave the signal that it was time to mount and head out. As the King’s Champion, he was staying behind, and only a few of his men were traveling home with them, the rest of the group were bound for other destinations, some heading as far south as town. Sir John Templeton was at her side, as was Lord Henry, and Lord Grayson Stern, the later was heading home to his wife. The two lords had fared the best out of the captured nobility, Lord Frasier and Duke Orland were still under the weather, but improving daily. Luveday had extended an invitation to them when they passed by Lander’s Keep. Iain hadn’t been upset that she had made such a suggestion without his approval as he thought highly of both men. Iain walked beside her as she neared her horse in the muffled morning air. Iain stopped before her mount and looked at her as if memorizing her appearance. Luveday was puzzled by his scrutiny but didn’t interrupt.
“You will keep your promise?” The deep quality of his voice sent a strange pang through her, but she smiled at his reminder.
“Yes, My Lord.” She looked up into his eyes. “I keep my promises.” She smiled at him in reassurance. “I will stay out of trouble, and head straight home.”
Iain seemed pleased that she had called Lander’s Keep home.
“Will you keep your promise, My Lord?” And he laughed.
“Aye, Lady, I did not forget.” In return for her quiet and quick departure, Iain promised that he too would keep out of unnecessary trouble and when all was done, head straight home. He was touched by her obvious concern for him and his men, though he would not admit how much it affected him.
He helped her mount, and she looked down at him satisfied, but could not help adding, “See that you don’t.”
“Fare thee well, Lady Luveday.” He stepped back as men farther up the line began their journey.
“Be safe, My Lord. My heart will be here with you and your men.” She moved off with the rest of the line.
Iain called out, “Sir John, you had best keep the lady safe!”
The older knight smiled, but he heard the threat just the same as he called over his shoulder. “Aye, I will, My Lord.” And not a moment later the group was gone.
The journey home was miserable. The weather seemed colder than Luveday ever imagined it being. Inns and Keeps were full of travelers, most heading to or from the King. Luveday being a lady of no consequence was put wherever she could manage which was usually in the stable with a number of other “guests.” That was when they had a stopping point for the night. Most of the time she slept on the ground. They had but a single wagon in the group, and it carried supplies along with a few wounded men leaving no room for her. All in all, the trip didn’t take as long as Luveday feared, though they trudged through snow and mud in turns. Her mount was calm and steadfast, though Luveday regretted not taking a few short rides while at camp to keep her body used to the saddle. The first few days had been more than uncomfortable for her, but with Lander’s Keep in view, she forgot everything except being home.
Cries filled the bailey as Emmalyn and Elli came running. Cassandra and Agnes appeared a few moments later as the women welcomed back one of their own. Word had reached the keep of Luveday’s misadventures while on campaign, and the women were eager to see her and hear her tale for themselves.
“Are you hurt? Are you injured? Do you need anything?” Elli looked her friend over. “You look exhausted? How was it in the enemy camp? They say you saved the prince’s life!” The girl rattled on.
Emmalyn laughed at her exuberance, able to now that Luveday was safely among them. “Elli girl, let us get inside. She’s been traveling for days, and this cloak hardly keeps out such a chill.” They ushered the group in, including Sir John. The group was smaller now than when they had begun, as men had broken off to journey on towards their own paths home. Only a few remained, and fewer still would be heading out again toward town and what lay beyond.
“Sir John, can you see to our fellow travelers? See if you can’t get someone to help Sir Peter in, I’d like to see to his wounds.” The man looked like his old self, the unkempt knight she had first met. The older knight had been her constant companion, and at times his usual chatty self, but it was clear that he took her safety seriously as most of the journey he was ever vigilant, constantly scanning their surroundings for trouble. Her abduction had hit him hard, and it was clear to Luveday that he felt responsible for it though she had assured him otherwise.
All were visibly relieved to make it home in one piece.
Once settled in front of the warm fire, warm spiced ale in hand, Luveday recounted her tale while Cassandra saw to the injured that had recently arrived. “And then Lord De Lane asked me to return home. The road seemed a bit longer in the cold.” She smiled over the rim of her mug still savoring its lingering warmth. Luveday looked up to see that many familiar faces had joined them around the fireside. Even Lady Christabel and Adela had found chairs to listen to her tale. Luveday noted two men whose faces were vaguely familiar as they stood by the lady and remembered that they were Sumerland’s men who had accompanied Christabel back to the keep. Whether they were some protection for the lady or an incentive for her to behave, Luveday couldn’t guess.
Once the excitement of the moment was over, many left to return to their duties though Luveday’s adventures would surely occupy the castle for several days.
Many thought the lady was spinning a yarn until several of the knights pitched in to collaborate her story. Sir John’s serious recounting was enough to satisfy many of the disbelievers as none could remember the old knight being so solemn ever before.
After the tale, Sir Fuller had a new respect for the little lady and kept a watchful eye on her rival. The retired knight saw the look of hatred that briefly marred the court beauty and knew that while Christabel wanted none of Lord De Lane, she still did not like being outdone. Fuller made a note to talk to the others, best to keep an eye on Luveday lest Christabel’s anger find it’s mark.
Luveday had never felt so happy to see her small room. She had a proper bed, with furs and a blazer. Her items were where she had left them, though Elli said she had kept the room clean and aired for her. Sleep came quickly, and when dawn broke through the cracks of the tapestry over her shuttered window, she was well rested and eager to return to the familiar routines of Lander’s Keep.
Though the weather had changed, coating the landscape in white and dulling the world, things inside the keep were much the same. Christabel stayed inside her rooms
or before the fire. She took no notice of anything unless it displeased her. Many thought she might journey to the Abbey, but the weather was too cold for her delicate skin. Not even Luveday could undo her moods, and so she stopped trying. The spiteful child was the only cloud over the castle.
Emmalyn was happy to have her companion back, and Luveday shared the skills she had learned from Thomas Moore. Luveday was surprised when Emmalyn asked her to pen a new entry in the old journal but took it as the honor it was. Luveday took great care with the book and practiced what she would write until she knew the entry by heart before finally adding it to the book. The whole experience made her want to write a handbook about herbs and healing techniques much like the volume by Ody that was still in her room. She finally pulled out the volume to show Cassandra and Emmalyn who had never seen it’s like and poured over the book for several days asking Luveday to read the entries to them. Many of the herbs in its pages were unknown to the women, and some resembled plants that grew in the far corners of Anora, but only a dozen or so were familiar to them.
The days moved on at a slow pace. Men arrived bringing news of De Lane’s exploits on the field. Sterling had fled the battle and was being hunted down. The mercenaries had turned sides, offering up names and information for their freedom. They were escorted to the sea, and many swore never to set foot in the kingdom again so long as the line of King Edward lived. Luveday thought that was a bit overdramatic, but having seen the outcome of this war, she amended that it just might be true.
