by Anne Herries
‘I sent word when we reached Italy,’ Alain said apologetically. ‘My letter must have been delayed or lost. I am sorry that you have been distressed, Mother—but as you see I am alive and well.’
‘God be praised for it, my son.’ She gazed up at him, her eyes glowing. ‘You have grown, Alain. You are almost as broad in the shoulder as your brother Stefan now.’
‘But what of you? And my father—and Marguerite?’
‘Marguerite is with me,’ she replied, and, as he looked round eagerly, ‘She will come to greet you, but for the moment she has taken her son to a chamber the innkeeper has reserved for her, because he has been fretful on the journey. I fear he tires her at times.’ A shadow passed across Lady Alayne’s face. ‘Your sister was widowed last year and has not yet recovered from her grief. Your father does well enough, though he did not accompany us. You must know that he seldom leaves Banewulf now. When are you coming home? Your father would dearly love to see you again.’
Alain took her arm. ‘Come into the inn, for it is cold out here. I fear it is but a poor place, Mother, but there is a fire and some mulled ale to warm you.’
‘I know the inn for I have used it before, but I always bring my own comforts with me. We shall have wax candles and our own linen on the beds.’ She smiled at Alain as they came into the parlour and the light made it possible for them to see each other more clearly. ‘It is good to see you again, my son.’
‘Mother…’ A woman in the full flush of her beauty came into the room, a small child clinging to her hand. ‘It seems that there has been a muddle about the bedchamber I had ordered—’ She broke off as she saw Alain, a look of delight dawning in her eyes. ‘Brother—is it truly you? Your man said that you were here, but I could not believe it after so long.’
‘Marguerite.’ He went to embrace her, looking down at her lovely face, seeing the shadows beneath her eyes, witness to her grief. ‘Mother told me about Orlando. I am sorry…’ He glanced down at the child clinging to her hand. ‘And this is your son?’
‘I named him for his father…’ Shadows flitted over her lovely face as she looked with love at her child.
‘It is a sad thing to lose your father so young.’ Alain’s hand caressed the child’s head for a moment.
‘Orlando was gravely ill and at the end it was a relief,’ Marguerite replied calmly, though grief worked in her face. She lifted her head, letting pride carry her through. ‘I believe you are the culprit in the matter of our rooms, Alain. It seems that your party has taken all the best chambers. There is none left for us.’
‘You may have mine and welcome,’ Bryne said instantly and the women turned to him; in the emotion of their greeting they had not noticed him standing quietly by.
‘This is my friend Sir Bryne of Wickham,’ Alain told them as his mother and sister looked curiously at the man who had spoken. ‘Katherine has the best room for she is ill…it was for that reason I sent for you. And the Lady Celestine…’ He broke off as Celestine came into the room. Her expression showed that she was displeased about something. ‘Mother, Marguerite, this is the Lady de Charlemagne, who is occupying your room, I think.’
‘The landlord told me that I must move into the small chamber!’ Celestine cried, clearly too angry to hear what he had said to her. ‘It seems that my room is needed for other guests.’
‘Lady Celestine,’ Alain said, ‘this is my mother and sister and I fear we have taken the chamber that was reserved for them. If you are agreeable, they may share the larger chamber…’
‘Your mother and…’ Celestine’s eyes narrowed as she looked at the women. One had clearly been a great beauty, for she was still lovely even in her middle years, and the second was one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen, with pale golden hair and bright blue eyes, so lovely, indeed, that she felt a pang of jealousy. Having been told that she must return to the smaller chamber, she had been furious at her treatment, but now saw that she must accept or appear churlish and ill mannered. ‘Then I must give way, of course,’ she said and smiled graciously. ‘I did not know that you had arranged rooms for your family, too.’
‘Nor did I,’ Alain replied. ‘My mother’s arrival was a surprise and a most welcome one.’ He turned to his mother, his face betraying his anxiety as he recalled why he had sent for his mother. ‘There is a young woman I would have you see, Mother. Her name is Katherine of Grunwald. I fear she is very ill and I pray that you can help her, for I know you have some skill with healing.’
‘Only a very little,’ Lady Alayne replied. ‘But I shall be pleased to see this young woman, for I can see you are anxious for her.’
‘I shall take you to her myself, for she is guarded by a dragon who might otherwise refuse to let you near her darling.’ Laughter lurked briefly in his eyes and it gladdened the heart of a mother who had carried the memory of her son’s merry smile for many years.
He went out into the hall again and she followed him up the broken stone steps that led to the upper chambers. A strong smell of spilled ale and cooking odours pervaded the air and he wrinkled his nose in distaste. He had forgotten how bad the inns could be in England, for he was used to the outdoor life and the homes of noblemen.
‘You intrigue me—a dragon, Alain?’
‘Indeed, and a fierce one.’ He laughed, the shadows leaving him for a moment. ‘Maria is Katherine’s companion and devoted to her. I call her the dragon because she has twice felled me with her moneybag, and if looks might kill I should have been slain long since.’
His mother’s eyes twinkled with amusement. ‘I believe you would make a great bard, my son, for you spin a goodly tale. Now tell me, where did you discover this odd couple—and why did the dragon fell you with her fearsome weapon?’
‘You may mock,’ Alain said, ‘but I had a lump the size of a hen’s egg the first time she hit me. It was in Italy that I rescued the lady and her companion, from brigands that were attacking them. She may be in some danger of further attack and so I have promised her my protection until she reaches the safety of her home.’
‘Ah…’ The Lady de Banewulf’s eyes saw more than her son would tell and she smiled to herself. ‘I see there is more to this story than you wish to tell me for the moment. Perhaps we may talk further another day?’
‘Nothing would please me better, for I have been too long away,’ Alain replied. ‘But Katherine’s story is her own and I may tell you only a part of it—unless I have her permission.’
‘Then we must see what we can do to help her.’
Alain knocked and then entered the chamber, followed by his mother. Maria was standing by the bed, soothing Katherine’s heated brow with a cloth wrung out in cool water. She looked round as he entered and it was plain to see that she was desperately worried.
‘Is there no change?’
‘None,’ Maria said and there was a sob in her throat. ‘I spooned a little of my fever mixture into her mouth, but she is still so hot.’
The Lady Alayne went over to the bed and looked down at the girl lying there. She was aware of surprise—the woman seemed little more than a child and was very ordinary to look at, not the beauty she had been expecting after seeing the older woman downstairs. As she reached out to touch Katherine’s forehead, the girl moaned and opened her eyes to look at her.
‘Is it you, Mother?’ she whispered, a smile of such sweetness on her lips that Alayne instantly understood why her son had become so anxious for this girl he hardly knew. ‘Have you come to take me to Heaven with you and Papa?’
‘It is not time for you to join your loved ones, Katherine,’ she murmured softly for she was instantly drawn to the girl and addressed her as she would a daughter. ‘You are young and must look to the future. You will fall in love and marry and have children of your own one day.’
‘No…’ Katherine muttered and moved her head restlessly on the lumpy pillow. ‘He will never love me…never love me…’
‘I think that many people will love you, Katherine
,’ Alayne said soothingly. ‘Do not fret so, my poor child. I am here now and with your good woman’s help we shall make you well again.’
‘Mother…’ Katherine caught at her hand, holding it tightly as the fever held her. ‘Please stay with me…please do not leave me alone. I am so alone…’ Tears trickled from the corner of her eye. ‘So alone…’
Alayne’s heart was touched. Now she wanted to make Katherine well for her own sake and not just to please her son. She bent and kissed her feverish brow.
‘You shall not be alone now, dear Katherine. I shall be here and my son is your friend. You shall be as a daughter to me and I shall make you well again. Do not weep, for you have many to love you.’
Katherine gave a sigh and released her grip. Her eyes had closed again and she had lapsed back into the state of unconsciousness once more.
Alayne straightened up and looked at the girl’s devoted companion. She had no need to be told who the woman was, for she could tell at a glance that her son had judged right. Maria’s fierce manner hid a tender devotion to her mistress, therefore she would treat her as a friend, address her by name and not as a lowly servant.
‘She is very ill, I fear. Tell me, Maria, what have you given her thus far?’
‘A mixture I make of herbs,’ Maria replied, surprised but pleased to be spoken to in such a friendly manner by a great lady. She bobbed a respectful curtsy for she was aware that this lady was truly noble, both by breeding and by character. ‘’Tis but a simple cure, my lady, but it has helped her in the past.’
Alayne asked for the names of the herbs she had used and nodded.
‘You have given her a mixture I use myself for relieving fever. It is well enough for chills and such ailments, but this child needs something more. I have a mixture in my travelling box, which I believe may help her. I shall make it up and give her the first dose myself—after that you must give it to her exactly as I show you. Too much and you may do more harm than good, do you understand me?’
‘Yes, my lady. I know there are stronger cures than mine, but I have never dared to use them for the Lady Katherine.’
‘You can do no harm if you follow my instructions. You will trust me in this, Maria?’
‘Yes, my lady, for I can see that you are a good woman—a true healer.’
‘What makes you say that?’ Alayne looked at her closely.
‘I have met another such as you long ago,’ Maria said. ‘It was she who taught me to make the simple cures I know—but I do not have the learning or the gift for the healing you do.’
‘Yes, perhaps it is a gift,’ Alayne replied. There was a smile on her lips, though shadows of remembrance lingered in her eyes. Once, a long time ago, she had been named a witch because of her healing powers. It had made her wary in her dealings with others. ‘Though there are some who would not call it thus…’
‘I am not one of them. If you can help Katherine, I shall be always grateful, my lady.’
‘I see that you love her. We shall nurse her together, Maria. I shall have my own sheets and pillows brought to make her more comfortable, and wax candles perfumed with flower oil so that the air is sweeter in here. We shall both pray for her and in the meantime I shall make my special cure for her.’
Alayne smiled at her son as she went out. He was looking anxiously towards the bed, and she touched his hand in passing.
‘Go back to your friend now, Alain. Your place is not here and Katherine is in good hands. Both Maria and I will do our best for her—the rest is in God’s gift, not yours or mine. Have you no business to keep you from fretting?’
‘Yes, there is something I must do. You do well to remind me, Mother,’ Alain said and looked at Maria. ‘There are things I must attend that will take me away from this place for a few days. Some of my men will remain to guard you. Tell me, is all safe?’
‘Yes, my lord,’ Maria replied. ‘You may rest easy in your mind.’
‘Then I shall go, for if I stay…’ Alain shook his head and went out leaving his sentence unfinished.
His mind was in some confusion, half-formed thoughts lingering in his head. Why did he feel so desperate for Katherine to wake up and smile at him, the way she had smiled when in her fever she had believed her mother had come to her? Why did he feel as if he might be about to lose something precious, something he had not even known he had? If Katherine were to die, it would leave a strange void in his life—but why should that be?
He shook his head over his muddled thoughts, finding them impossible to understand. She was but a child, and these feelings of tenderness he had towards her were naught but the concern of any man for a woman he would protect…and love? The thought popped into his head, but he dismissed it at once. Affection, concern, a need to protect, all these things he would allow himself—but love was not for him. He had other purposes in life.
Alain shook off his doubts and fears as he spoke to Bryne for a few moments and then left the inn. In Rome he had been charged with a mission that he must fulfil if he could, a mission that would take him to London and to the court. He did not want to leave Katherine unprotected, for it was possible that Ravenshurst might follow her to England, and it was agreed that Bryne should stay to guard her for the time being. After all, if she recovered her senses, it was Bryne that she would most want to see. It was to Bryne that she talked easily, for Bryne that she smiled most often.
Bryne had no notion of the task Alain had set himself, but was more than willing to see that no harm came to Katherine while he was gone.
‘You know I care for the lady,’ Bryne said. ‘I have promised to serve her should she need me.’
‘You would wed her, I think?’
‘If she would have me,’ Bryne agreed.
Alain nodded, wondering why that simple answer should be as a knife struck into his breast. Katherine could not do better than to wed such a loyal and generous knight, and he should be happy for her. Yet there was a tiny voice in his head that denied it. It was a good match—why could he not be pleased for her? Why did he want to protest that she was his and no other’s?
He crushed the thought ruthlessly. He had work to do—important work, and Katherine was but another sister to him…
Katherine had never felt so ill. She was aware of cool hands touching her, of kind voices and faces she did not know. Sometimes she thought that her mother was with her, and at others she believed she was in hell. The pain was unbearable, her body racked by a terrible fever that made her wander in her mind and cry out, revealing more than she knew to the women who cared for her. Time and again one name was on her lips as she lay in her fever, her piteous cries wrenching the heart of the women who tended her so devotedly.
‘I wish Alain had not left the inn,’ his mother said to Maria, as Katherine’s condition seemed to worsen. ‘When I sent him from her chamber I did not mean that he should leave altogether. He was plainly anxious over her condition, and I thought he would be better employed in training with his men— I did not expect him to disappear. Do you know where he has gone? She cries for him so piteously, and it might ease her to hear his voice.’
‘He said that he had things he must do, my lady.’ Maria looked at her doubtfully. She had feared this and, for all her love of Katherine, thought it a hopeless cause. ‘You will not tell him what she has said? I beg you not to reveal her heart to Sir Alain, my lady. He is kind to her, but it is the kindness of a friend, of a good man. We both know that it is unlikely he feels the same passion for her as she feels for him, and I would not have her shamed in his eyes.’
‘My son would not be so unkind as to mock her for her love,’ Alayne replied. Yet even as she spoke she was not sure. How could she know her eldest child after so many years apart? The boy she had loved so dearly had gone and there was a man in his place, a man she did not know at all. ‘Does he guess nothing of her feelings for him?’
‘I do not believe so, my lady. He thinks her a child—and besides, he seems to favour the Lady Celestine.’
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br /> ‘That woman?’ Alayne was surprised. ‘I would not have thought it. She is very beautiful, but I find her cold—and selfish. Yet men are sometimes blind where beauty is concerned.’
‘It hath always been so, my lady.’
‘But where has he gone?’
‘Please…water…’
The words were faint, but they drew the attention of the ladies who cared for Katherine, and they both turned towards the bed.
‘The fever hath broken, my lady!’ Maria cried. ‘God be praised!’
‘Yes, we must thank God for giving her back to us,’ Alayne said as she came to stand by the bed and look down at the girl. Katherine’s eyes were open now and she gazed up at them, seeming bewildered, but she drank gratefully from the cup that she was offered.
‘Just a sip at a time,’ Alayne warned for she knew that the girl was very weak. ‘You have been very ill, Katherine.’
‘Who are you?’ Katherine asked as her eyes began to focus and she saw the woman’s face clearly for the first time. ‘I thought sometimes that you were my mother or an angel, but I seem to know your face though not your name. Have you been nursing me?’
‘Maria and I have cared for you together. You needed watching all the time, for we feared we might lose you. I am Lady Alayne de Banewulf. Sir Alain is my son and was named for me.’
‘Yes… I see the resemblance.’ Katherine smiled weakly. ‘That must be why—’ She broke off and looked about the room. Her eyes were eager, but then the light died and she blinked as if the disappointment was almost too much to bear. ‘I thought once that he was here with me…’
‘He was here for a while,’ Alayne assured her. ‘He was worried for you, Katherine. I sent him away because it was not proper for him to be in your bedchamber—and he had business he said would take him a few days, but as yet he hath not returned, though it is time enough.’
‘Oh…’ Katherine’s hand trembled on the bedcovers, but she fought her desire to weep and won, though her eyes misted. ‘How foolish I am, but I feel so very weak. If I cry, you must forgive me.’
