Releasing Henry

by Sarah Hegger

  Henry’s hand trembled in hers, conveying tension in his every fiber.

  And the bells with that infernal clanging and clanking? A happy sound, but discordant and without established tune, it went on and on and on.

  As they marched through the trees she wanted to stop and touch them. She had never imagined trees could grow so thick and tall, nearly blocking out the blue of the sky. Under her feet, the ground squelched with more plants. How much water did it take to grow this many plants and keep them this green? She liked growing things. That tiny detail gave her the first flutter of maybe this might all be well.

  The castle dispelled the flutter. Tall, gray, forbidding and stern it seemed to stare down at her and demand she state her business. “Please, sir, I am Henry’s wife.”

  Anglesea loomed, unimpressed by the words she whispered in her mind.

  Massive gates guarded the portal, studded with metal and spikes. Surely nobody entered here without permission.

  Henry froze.

  A man stood and stared at him, painful hope on his face. She would know him as Henry’s kin anywhere. The sculpted lines of both their faces marked their shared blood. Tall, like Henry, broad and powerfully built. This man reminded her of the fighting men who had invaded her homeland. The sword strapped to his hip so much a part of him it left no doubt as to his ability to wield it.

  He snatched Henry into a hard embrace. Suddenly separated from Henry she almost lost her balance.

  Newt caught her elbow and steadied her. “Henry’s oldest brother, Roger.”

  Handsome, but nothing to her Henry, Roger had dark hair with the same intense blue eyes.

  Golden hair streaming out behind her, a woman pelted toward them. She overran herself, tripped, but stayed on her feet.

  Newt gasped. “Sweet Bea.”

  “Heeenry!” she yelled. Flushed, sobbing, and battling to catch her breath, she cut through the crowd and flung herself at Henry and Roger.

  Henry spun and caught her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung, her slim back heaving.

  A dark-haired man, not of the same stamp as Roger and Henry, appeared at her side. He said something to her in English.

  “This is Garrett,” Newt said. “He asked who you were.”

  Garrett had eyes as dark as his hair and he assessed her keenly, waiting for her to respond.

  Carefully forming the English words in her mind first, she said to Garrett, “I am Alya.”

  “Newt.” The man pulled Newt into a hug. He said something in English she did not catch, but it involved more hugging and a few hearty shoulder pounds.

  Newt responded in French for her benefit. “I said that I could do it.” Color suffused his cheeks. “Garrett congratulates me on finding Henry and bringing him home.”

  “He sent you to find Henry?”

  “He and Roger did. The family feared him dead.”

  “So.” Garrett reverted to French, with a truly horrible accent. “Who is pretty Alya, and what brings her to Anglesea?”

  “God, Bea!” Henry also spoke French as he pried her arms from his neck. “Let me breathe.”

  “Nay.” Bea shook her head and hung on. “I thought I had lost you. I thought I would never see your stupid face again, and now I cannot let go.”

  “Bea.” Garrett laughed and tugged her away from Henry. “He is home. There will be plenty of time for all that now.”

  “But I missed him so much.” Bea, which she now remembered was what Henry called his sister Beatrice, sniffled, her bottom lip quivering. “I made my peace with his death and now he stands here before me.”

  “It is a blessed day.” Garrett put his arms about Bea. “And we owe our thanks to our old friend, Newt.”

  “Newt?” Bea scrubbed her eyes. “Is that really you?”

  Newt tugged one ear, went bright red and shuffled his feet.

  “You’ve grown so tall.” Bea pressed his shoulders back, her gaze roving Newt. “And so handsome.”

  “Stop it, Bea, you’re embarrassing him.” Garrett tugged Bea away.

  Bea waved him off and her gaze found Alya. “And who is this? Is this your sweetheart, Newt?”

  “Um.” Newt’s head snapped up.

  “Nay.” Henry slipped his arm about Alya’s waist. “This is Alya, and she is my sweetheart. Actually, she’s a bit more than that. She’s my wife.”

  * * * *

  Bea recovered first, and Henry blessed her happy squeal. “A wife? Henry, who would have thought you had it in you.”

  Whatever Bea meant by that escaped him. “She is still learning English, but she speaks French beautifully.”

  “Ah.” Bea stepped closer to Alya. “Welcome to Anglesea, Alya. What a beautiful name, I’ve never heard the like.”

  Bea’s happy way of viewing the world used to irk him before, now he saw it for a blessing. Bea approached everyone with the same cheerful expectation that they would be friends.

  “Lady Alya.” Roger bowed over her hand. “Welcome to the family.”

  “Thank you.” Regal as a queen Alya smiled and Henry wanted to puff his chest out with pride.

  “Get out of the way, you lot.” Nurse’s voice rippled through Henry and he nearly broke down again. “Let me see my boy.”

  Her boy. Aye, true enough. Nurse had stood as second mother to all of them.

  Rotund and grumpy and looking as if she had just stepped out for a minute Nurse came around the much taller Roger and stopped, twisting her hands in her apron. Scrutinizing him from head to toe, she nodded. “It really is you.”

  As she folded like a piece of cloth, Roger barely caught her before she hit the floor.

  Everyone seemed to shout at once. People surged this way and that and Henry felt his breath strangle in his throat. Suddenly, it was all too much. His past and future merged in a confusion of sights and sounds, and part of him wanted to grab Alya and run back to the boat with her.

  Then Alya was beside him, her small hand slipping into his. “Shall we go inside?”

  “At least one of us is thinking straight,” Roger said, red in the face from the effort of holding Nurse up. He scowled at Garrett. “Get your ass over here and give me a hand.”

  The door to Anglesea loomed. Henry could not get his feet to move. Memories rushed out of the dark maw and threatened to bury him. He, Roger, and William running through that door and yelling as they headed to some new adventure. Standing there the night Faye’s sons went missing. Mother framed in the doorway, sunlight burnishing her hair to a golden halo. Father bellowing all the way across the bailey at the practice yards.

  Roger led the way, he and Garrett carrying Nurse between them.

  Bea looked back at him, and smiled. “Are you coming?”

  “Aye.” Alya answered for him. Tightening her grip on his hand, she led him forward.

  Henry blinked in the darkness inside the keep. The smell hit him—rushes, the lavender Mother used to perfume them, wood, fire, and baking bread.

  Beside him Alya swiveled this way and that, her eyes huge in her face. He should take the time to familiarize her but his brain kept tripping in the past.

  A large mastiff dog barked and approached.

  Alya shrank closer to him.

  “Quiet, Dagger,” Roger said. He turned back to them. “My wife’s dog.”

  Wife? “Ah, aye. Newt told me you were married.”

  Roger stopped and got a sappy grin on his face.

  Garrett grunted as most of Nurse’s weight transferred to him.

  “Aye.” Roger helped Garrett seat Nurse in one of the large carved chairs Mother and Father always occupied. “I am married now and I could not be happier.”

  “Roger?” A lovely dark-haired woman entered the hall. “Did I hear true? They say Henry is…” She gaped at him. “It must be true.”

  Dressed in braies and a fine tunic of scarlet linen, Henry was sure he did not know her.

  “Speaking o
f wives.” Roger’s chest swelled. “This is my Kathryn.”

  His Kathryn? They fit together like two puzzle pieces. Henry held out his hand. “I am rather late in offering my condolences on your marriage.”

  Kathryn laughed, a husky, attractive sound. She brushed past his outstretched hand. “I apologize for this.” She gave him a hard hug. “But I feel as if I know you.” Flushing, she stepped back. “You have become real to me through Roger and everyone else at Anglesea.”

  Henry warmed to her immediately. Kathryn met his eyes with her direct gaze. “I am sure only half of what they said was true.”

  “Oh.” Kathryn stared at Alya. “You are…lovely. Beautiful.”

  Henry liked her even more for her lack of guile or tact.

  Alya giggled and squirmed closer to him. “Thank you.”

  “Get off me.” Nurse slapped away Bea’s hands and sat up.

  Bea tried to press her back into the chair. “Nurse, you fainted.”

  “Nonsense.” Nurse straightened her wimple. “I do not faint.” She heaved herself to her feet, and twitched her skirts back into place. Pointing at Henry, she said, “Get over here and let Nurse have a look at you.”

  Some things never changed and Henry did as he was told.

  Nurse took his face in her gnarled, calloused palms. She studied him. “You’re thinner,” she said. “And I do not care for your shorn head.”

  Feeling all of five years, he rubbed a hand over his scalp. “They shaved my head to guard against vermin.”

  “Huh.” Nurse continued her examination. She poked his shoulder. “You look stronger, though. At least they fed you properly.” Suddenly Nurse clasped her hands around him. She buried her face in his chest. “My boy,” she whispered. “My Henry.”

  Roger cleared his throat. “Mother and Father are at Calder. I have sent a messenger already.”

  Nurse harrumphed and stepped away from him. She wiped her cheeks with her apron. “Make sure you send riders north. William and Alice will want to know.”

  Just in time he stopped himself from asking about Alice. With so much to learn and discover in this new version of Anglesea he needed to take it bit by bit. Much would have changed in the years he’d been gone. Most noticeable was that Anglesea was now Roger’s keep. Everyone deferred to him as lord. Even knowing as much from Newt, the strangeness of not seeing his powerful, robust father bellowing out orders shook him. Without thought he searched the hall for his lovely, gracious mother.

  “There’s a lot to take in.” Roger squeezed his shoulder. “I’m not sure where to start.”

  “Sir Roger!” A guard sprinted into the hall, his face flushed. “There’s a…man. A big man. He’s…he says he is with Sir Henry.”

  “Aye.” Roger glowered at the man, so like their father Henry’s head whirled.

  The guard squirmed. “It’s just…Sir Roger…he’s…dark. Very dark. I think he might be a devil.”

  Henry suppressed the surge of irritation. It was not the guard’s fault he had never seen someone like Bahir before, but to assume his dark complexion made him the devil irked Henry no end. “His name is Bahir,” he said and looked to Roger. “He is with me.”

  “Then let him in.” Roger shook his head. “Do not leave a guest standing at our gates.”

  “Bahir stayed behind to watch the boat,” Henry said. “We traveled with considerable wealth that belongs to Alya.”

  “You get to keep your wealth on your marriage?” Kathryn shot Roger a look. “Maybe I should have gone where Alya comes from?”

  Roger grabbed Kathryn about the hips and drew her to him. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “Not yet.”

  “Not ever.”

  From the besotted look on Roger’s face, Henry judged he’d made a love match.

  “Can you fight as well?” Kathryn looked at Alya.

  “A bit.” Alya shrugged.

  She could? Henry knew he stared but he couldn’t help himself.

  Alya clasped her hands in front of her. “Bahir taught me how to take care of myself.”

  He had much to learn about his new wife. Here at Anglesea, safe behind her old walls, he and Alya could finally build a marriage.

  A commotion followed Bahir into the hall. Behind him, swords drawn, four men-at-arms tripped over themselves to keep him in sight.

  “Sir Roger.” Bahir approached Roger and executed a flawless bow. “I am Bahir, I serve the Lady Alya. Assalamu Alaikom warahmatu Allahi wa barakatuhu.”

  “Bahir wishes you peace, blessings and mercy,” Henry said.

  “Lord above us.” Nurse went to stand before Bahir. She barely reached his armpit. “You’re a big lad, aren’t you?”

  Bahir shot Henry a confused look. That was Nurse for you. “This is Nurse, Bahir. She had the raising of all of us.”

  Bahir bowed to Nurse.

  Nurse ran her hand over his forearm. “I have never seen the like.” She rubbed his skin. “I wager you have no trouble hiding in the dark.”

  “I do some of my best work in the dark,” Newt said.

  Nurse gasped, then dissolved into an evil chuckle. “Oh, I’ve forgotten nothing about you, young Newt.”

  “Come.” Roger took Father’s chair before the hearth. He motioned Henry, Bahir and Newt to join him. “I need to hear how this all happened.” Clicking his fingers at a freckle-faced page, he called for wine. Anglesea wine. Henry’s mouth watered.

  * * * *

  Up dark, winding stairs Alya followed Kathryn and the old woman. Did all English hide around in their dark castles? Despite the warmth of the day, the walls held enough chill to make her long for her cloak. Thick grasses covering the floor caught in the hem of her gown.

  She stopped, once again, to remove stalks before they pulled the delicate silk.

  The old woman tapped her arm. She said something in English. Her accent differed from Henry and Newt and Alya blinked at her, feeling horribly stupid.

  The woman rolled her eyes, picked up her own skirts, and jerked her head at Alya’s skirts. From this she guessed the woman told her to keep her skirts from touching the floor. Alya could barely look at the floor without shuddering. Dark, dirty and cold, she did not think much of this Anglesea of Henry’s.

  The old woman tapped her chest. “Nurse.” She then tapped Alya’s chest. “Alya.”

  Kathryn leaned closer. “Everyone calls her Nurse.”

  Ah! The older woman was trying to tell her what to call her.

  “Noose.” Alya tried the word out.

  Kathryn giggled and shook her head. “Nuuurse.”

  Alya watched Kathryn’s lips form the word. Her cheeks heated, this was like being a child all over again. She copied the movements. “Nuuurse.”

  Kathryn clapped her hands, and Nurse grinned at her.

  “Nurse.” Nurse jabbed her thumb at her chest again.

  “Alya.” Alya jabbed her thumb at her chest.

  Then they all grinned at each other. Oh, dear Lord, at this rate in a year or two she might be able to ask Nurse to pass the bread.

  She followed Kathryn and Nurse up the stairs to a large open corridor. The air smelled fresher up here, and those horrible grasses no longer littered the floor. Large, colorful tapestries adorned the walls. If she had more light she could examine them better. They marched past several wooden doors before Nurse stopped at one and opened it.

  Light poured into this room through huge arched casements.

  “Henry.” Nurse circled her arm to encompass the chamber. Then she mimed sleeping.

  A large bed stood to their left. Wooden beams supported heavy coverings around the bed. Alya had never seen wood of such a rich, deep color. Furs covered the floor. At the fireplace, a young woman dressed in simpler clothing set a small fire. She glanced up and rose when they entered.

  More heavy fabric hung on either side of the casements. A deep green that reminded her of emeralds, but with delicate stitch
ery in gold. Beneath one window a padded bench looked like the perfect place to while away time. Alya approached the casement.

  The view took her breath away.

  Kathryn showed her how to unlatch the window and opened it for her. “This is one of my favorite parts of Anglesea.” She stood beside Alya. “It seems as if you can see right to the end of the world.”

  “Aye.” Cool breeze carrying the tang of the sea caressed her cheeks. Large white birds wheeled and squawked over the water.

  Nurse and the young girl spoke behind them. Alya had no idea what they said. She trusted Kathryn to let her know if she needed to mind them.

  “Nurse asked if you would care to bathe,” Kathryn said.

  Bathe? To be truly clean for the first time in weeks. Alya could hardly contain the grin as she nodded. She moved to the hearth. A sweet woodsy smell rose from the fire. They must perfume it with something. Before the hearth two carved wooden chairs stood ready for someone to take a seat and toast their feet on the blaze. The castle depressed her, but this room showed promise. Already she could picture some of the fabrics in her chests turned into bright cushions and drapery. In this space, she could create a bright, happy nest for her and Henry.

  Thumps sounded from outside the door, followed by a knock.

  Wearing a huge grin, Newt entered with her clothing chest. “Bahir is clucking like a mother hen about you, and I came to check on you.”

  “I am well.” Alya wanted to insist Newt sit with her until Henry returned.

  “Nurse will take care of you.” Newt winked at her. “She’s a sour old harridan, but her heart is pure gold.”

  Three dogs had followed Newt into the chamber.

  Alya could scarcely believe her eyes. Neither Kathryn nor Nurse seemed to be bothered by the dogs. Indeed, one of the dogs came up to Kathryn and nudged her hand.

  Kathryn petted the beast.

  A dog. A filthy, disease- and vermin-infested beast that should never be allowed into her dwelling. The enormity of how different things were here in England pressed down on her.

  Chapter 17

  Nurse and Kathryn left her once they had seen her safely in the wooden bathing tub. Nurse put a few drops of rose-scented oil in the water before she left.