“Aye, my lord. I have learned the layout from several men,” the sergeant added. “If we’re quiet, we’ll be able to slip past the tower to the west and surround it, but there are brambles to the north that choke off that side. I suggest we also stay at the fork, for it is closest to the east side entrance.”
“Excellent,” Adrien finished, liking the plan. “Keep near the woods so the moon doesn’t catch you. I’ll take half the men up the abbey road and call like a bird.” He demonstrated, so the men would know the sound. “When you hear that, begin your attack on the west side. Keep your archer far enough for him to see the top of the tower. A sentry may be there. I will enter the tower to retrieve Lady Ediva.”
“Several villagers warn the floor is rotting and trees have already begun to sprout through it,” the sergeant cautioned him. “Be careful, my lord, where you stand, and beware of the winding stairs on the right, for they may hide our attacker.”
With a nod, Adrien mounted his stallion and turned it to face his sergeant. “You have devised a good plan, sergeant.”
“’Twas formed by these Saxons, my lord, not me.”
With a curt nod, he ordered the gate opened and they charged out. The moon had passed its zenith, now casting longer shadows on the road ahead. Adrien allowed his mount to gallop as long as he dared. When the trees parted ahead and he spied a misshapen tower, he slowed the group to a walk. His courser nickered with complaint. With the night being far calmer than he expected, the sound echoed loudly.
“We dismount here,” he ordered, not wanting the horses to give away their position. A few minutes later, on foot, they reached the fork in the road. He indicated for the sergeant and his men to move to the west, as he took the other half to follow the abbey road.
The tower was silent, and two ponies stood by the wall. Ediva’s nag lifted her head and sniffed the night air, smelling their approach.
Please, Lord, keep her silenced.
She snorted once, but after months of dealing with the soldiers, she was used to their smell and returned to her attempt to reach the tall grasses growing up the side of the short wall. A quick, stealthy walk beside the wall, and Adrien found the entry gate. He could see the broken door at the rear of the tower, now bathed in moonlight. Beyond lay a thicket of brambles.
Adrien stilled his men and listened carefully.
“Stay still, woman!”
The words cut clearly through the night, followed by a cry. ’Twas Ediva’s cry, followed by the sickening scrape of wood and stone giving way underfoot.
He prayed swiftly for Ediva’s safety. As he plunged forward, a sharp scream rent the air. Immediately after, he caught the cold gleam of moonlight on steel directly in front of him and he swung out his sword.
* * *
Olin grabbed for Ediva as he ordered her to stay still, but she ducked and lunged for the stairs.
’Twas no good. Olin was faster, despite his limp. With a grunt, he caught her arm and swung her around.
“I will have the keep and all your goods before long, woman!”
Ediva struggled against him, all too aware that the dew-slickened wood would not hold their combined weights much longer. Below her, the sharp clank of steel on steel reached her. Who was down there? Who was Geoffrey fighting?
Olin’s grip tightened as he dragged her down the stairs to be free of the tower. But the ground floor only revealed a more dangerous predicament. Two men were battling at the entrance to the tower.
Olin hauled Ediva closer to him, as she gaped at the men. “Adrien!”
He turned and, at that moment, his attacker stepped back to readjust his swing. Moonlight bled down on that man, exposing his identity.
Geoffrey! He was fighting Adrien!
Olin clamped his filthy hand over her mouth and hauled her back up the stairs. She lost sight of Adrien and could only pray he turned in time to defend himself.
At the top again, Olin threw her into the center of the floor. It groaned under her weight and sagged downward. On her knees, she stilled, daring not to move lest it give way.
Olin slunk into the shadows, hidden in a safer section. Then he pointed the tip of his sword into her arm. She dared not move away from the blade’s reach for fear she’d fall through the floor. “One word and I will run you through.”
She could barely breathe. Below them, the fighting stilled with a cry of pain and the thump of a body.
A man pounded up the stairs to them. She bit her lip when moonlight hit him.
Adrien!
He stopped when she gave him the barest shake of her head. Ediva knew he couldn’t see Olin. And there was only one way she could expose the evil man.
“Adrien, to your left!” As she called in French, she rolled further away from Olin, whose raging anger spewed as he burst from the shadows.
He lifted up his sword in fury. Adrien met the weapon and thrust it away with the murderous clang of steel on steel.
Below her, Ediva felt the floor creak further and reached out to grab the rubble scattered ages ago. Her fingers closed over a hunk of rock and she tightened her grip.
Adrien shifted and let out a shrill whistle. Confused, Olin stalled his actions. Ediva heard the hiss of something fly over her head. She gasped when she saw Olin.
An arrow had pierced his chest, and with a look of shock, he slumped forward to fall at her side.
But the sudden weight was too much for the rotting floor and it relented. She grappled about, but her hands slipped, and with a scream, she plunged deep into the bowels of the tower.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Nay!” Adrien lunged forward. The tower had swallowed Ediva like a hungry beast.
He dropped to his knees and peered down. “Ediva? Can you hear me?”
There was no answer, so he raced down the stairs to the ground floor. “The torch!” he called to the men. “Bring it here!”
It took far too long to light the torch, but once lit, it sent the darkness scurrying. Ediva, in a heap amid the rubble that was the ground floor.
Adrien stormed to her side. She lifted her head as he rolled Olin’s body aside. “Adrien, you’re safe. I heard a hiss and feared that arrow was for you.”
“Nay, I called for the archer to shoot Olin.” He lifted her head and shoulders carefully. “Do you hurt much?”
“Aye, all over.”
“’Tis a good sign then. If the injury was great, you would feel naught but numbness. I thank God you fell only a short distance.”
“I hung onto the wood up there for a moment, and fell onto Olin. But I may have twisted my ankle.” She gripped Adrien as she struggled to sit up. “Were you fighting Geoffrey?”
“’Tis strange, but I was. I had not thought him disloyal to you, but his dislike of Normans was obvious. Mayhap he attacked you? With his mother’s herbs he discovered a way to alter his voice.”
“I think both men attacked me. I knew something was different in the second attack. I think it was Geoffrey.” She gasped. “Of course! The herb she would give Rypan! ’Tis foul and would render the boy mute at first, then change his voice for a few hours. Geoffrey must have used it.”
When she tried to stand, he held her down. “Not yet, my love.” He paused and the moment filled with promise. “Please. I don’t want you to make your injuries worse.”
With that, he eased up on his grip and slid his arms closer. She immediately obliged, snuggling into him. “But why Geoffrey?”
“We’ll never know for sure. He’s dead. I’d wager it was Olin who had convinced him of some evil plan.”
“Olin wanted—”
“Not another word, my wife,” Adrien interrupted. “Save your strength for the journey home. Shall I order a cart here for you?”
She pushed away and allowed Adrien to help her u
p. She leaned against him. “A cart is worse punishment than a horse.”
“Then I’ll carry you.” Without another word, he scooped her up and carried her down the road to where the horses now stood. He set her up on his courser and mounted easily. With an order to have the ponies bring the two bodies to the keep, Adrien gently led the way home.
Sunrise glowed in the east as they finally reached the bailey. Adrien dismounted first before lifting her off the horse and carrying her up to her solar where Margaret waited anxiously. Ediva wanted to talk, as he expected, but he promised he’d return after she rested.
* * *
Ediva awoke to discover she ached worse than when she fell down the stairs. With a wince, she turned. Immediately, her maid was at her side. The woman fussed and doted until Ediva could stand it no more and ordered her away. The sun shone high, indicating ’twas nearly noon. A moment later, the door opened and Adrien entered with a tray in his hand. “Are all the servants too busy?” she asked, smiling.
“I promised you I would return and here I am.”
He set down the tray and sent the maid away. Refusing help, Ediva hobbled to the table and began to set out the meal. Roast venison, vegetables, rich broth and sweet cheese pastries. And a large tankard of cold juice to wash it all down.
After giving thanks, they sat and ate for a moment, but Ediva could stand Adrien’s calmness no longer.
“Olin wanted the keep,” she blurted out. “He planned to kill you and offer to buy the title after I’d been executed for your death. He said he planned to tax the villagers further and only give the king a portion of it.”
“’Tis not unheard of to collect one amount and write another in the ledger. Though William would have found out.”
“Olin employed Geoffrey for his scheme.”
Adrien nodded. “Aye. Geoffrey attacked you the second time in the keep. Olin would have been too sore from both the flogging and the attack on me. Geoffrey also took foodstuff from your larder to him as he hid in that tower, I’ve learned from Rypan, who would watch him. The steward didn’t want a Norman here, so he tried several times to poison me. But Geoffrey didn’t know that I dislike spicy food. I think Geoffrey’s mother supplied the herbs and poison.”
“And Olin killed her. How could Geoffrey continue helping him after that?”
Adrien paused and set down his knife. His expression was grim. “Nay, Ediva. Geoffrey killed his mother. I’m sure of it.”
She gasped. Adrien went on, “We’ve examined the men’s bodies. Olin had long feet, and the footprints we found in the midwife’s hut were much smaller. Her son’s size. Neighbors claim he was there early that day. Olin was never there.”
Her stomach dismissing food now, she sat back. “But why would Geoffrey kill his own mother?”
“He’d warned you that he’d kill a villager if you didn’t kill me. I’d say that he chose his mother because she knew he’d stolen the herbs to poison the food. I think the midwife feared repercussions. Geoffrey must have felt threatened by her. She likely knew of other crimes of his, for I believe he was the one who pocketed the coins Eudo left in the strongbox and then marked it down in the ledger as if Eudo had taken them.”
Ediva nodded. “Aye, the coins I found in his laundry. I returned them to his mother, thinking them payment for eggs, so she certainly knew of them. ’Twould make sense, in an evil way. But why wasn’t I killed by those herbs when he tried to poison you?”
“Margaret told me you vomited up all the food before it had a chance to work in your stomach. And she went to the midwife for some herbs to help you. That must have been when the woman realized what her son had done.”
“No one would suspect he’d kill his own mother. And having died, she was no longer a risk to him.”
As if trying to shield her from the awfulness of what had happened, Adrien pulled her onto his lap. He drew her head down to snuggle in the crook of his neck and held her in silence for a moment, then said, “Ediva, ’twas foolish to think you could buy Olin off.”
“I know.” Without looking up, she continued, “I had to try. I was willing to offer him everything to save you. For a chance to be with you properly, as your wife should be with you.”
His eyes warmed. “Why?”
“Because I love you.” Her eyes watered over and his smiling face swam in unshed tears. “I’ve fallen in love with you. But...” She trailed off, uncertain if she could, or should, continue.
“Finish,” he urged gently. “But what?”
“But you’ll go to Ely, and I’m afraid you’ll die there. You love soldiering more than anything.”
“Ediva, I love you. And I have realized that I certainly love you more than I love fighting. When we married, I thought only of the battlefield. ’Twas safer for me than to expose my heart to anyone. But I was wrong. I fell in love with you and began to reconsider my life. I was only running away to protect my heart. But when I fight now, it won’t be with a careless attitude. Now, I have something to fight for. My home here. My wife here. ’Tis more potent that any elixir to spur on survival.”
He pulled in an uneven breath. “When I learned you refused to go to chapel, I didn’t want to care for you and couldn’t understand why God brought us together.”
“To teach me how much He loves us.”
“And to teach me not to tempt Him by my foolish ways. He needed to teach me to love even myself.” He paused a moment.
Ediva brushed away the tear that had begun to trace a line down her cheek. She knew he’d go to Ely if the king ordered it, but with the love they were sharing and the many prayers they’d say, she knew he’d also return safely home.
Their new home.
Epilogue
Adrien puffed with pride as his wife, heavy with child, waddled like a duck out of the keep. Naturally, he didn’t dare say those words, but he smiled nonetheless. A duck Ediva may resemble right now, but she was the most beautiful duck he’d ever seen.
The bailey gate opened and into the mud and mire of that wet, spring day rode three people on horseback. The first rider, Adrien’s sergeant, carried Eudo’s new banner as Baron of Colchester; the second was a woman and the third a guard.
Eudo’s promise of a midwife had come to fruition. And just in time, Adrien thought, considering his wife’s size.
There would soon be new life in this estate, he mused. ’Twas good.
Ediva finally stopped beside her husband. “The midwife?”
“Aye. And none too early, I would say. You’ll deliver soon.”
“Nay, I need a few more weeks. The babe has not yet dropped. But ’tis good to have her here. She’ll be needed in the village sooner than I’ll need her.”
Though Adrien had been exempted from fighting in Northumberland, tensions were ever ripe to the north and they both knew the time may come when he’d be called to Ely. Hereward the Wake had settled in there, at the center of the fens that surrounded the estate, and was fully prepared to fight. But William’s troops outnumbered his. The man whose fight was personal, the talk claimed, would soon lose.
Enough of that, Adrien told himself. He would enjoy his wife and, God willing, he’d see his first child grow strong.
The midwife, a young woman with dark red hair, accepted a hand from the sergeant as she dismounted, then closed the distance between them. After her courtesies, she asked to examine Ediva. The two women walked slowly into the keep.
Adrien turned to his sergeant. “What news have you brought with you?”
“You brother has taken a wife, my lord, and she is expecting their first child. All the stone has been gathered for the castle in Colchester, and that midwife has given me a headache.”
Adrien laughed. “How so?”
“She has a will of her own and can outride most men. She comes with good knowledge, I’m
told, though I wouldn’t want to be ministered to by her.”
“Mayhap she shall open a riding school between birthing children.”
“I won’t take lessons from her, my lord. She’s already corrected me several times on my equestrian skills.”
Chuckling, Adrien watched his wife turn at the door and smile at him. ’Twas good to see his wife have proper care and, realizing that, he offered up a prayer for all the blessings he’d received.
Of home and family. Of love and faith. Blessings from God Himself.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt of A Royal Marriage by Rachelle McCalla!
Dear Reader,
Almost 20 years ago, my daughter and I traveled to England to visit my sister and her family. She lived in Colchester, and I fell in love with the town. Its castle was fascinating. And atop of the town hall’s roof were figures from the town’s history. One of them, a tall slender man, stylized in typical Victorian fashion, was Eudes de Ries, or Eudo, as he was called. He was the first Constable of Colchester.
My fertile imagination took wings and flew. Having always been fascinated with medieval life, I could easily picture this man, a Norman, steward to William the Conqueror, having an abundant life. This led to a fictitious brother, Adrien, and eventually to the story you have just finished reading.
The story is more than real life and fictitious characters. The story is about love. God’s love. Just as the father in the story of the prodigal son spotted his son from afar and hurried to him, God sees us coming slowly toward him from our own far away land of distrust and hurt and pain. He comes to us with open arms. This was something my heroine, Ediva, had to learn the hard way.
It’s scary to relinquish the hold we have on ourselves and to trust God. And faith doesn’t always start in a “Road to Damascus” moment. That’s why we have the story of the mustard seed. So while the story is about love, it’s also a story of encouragement, to keep going, to take those baby steps of trust and faith and remember the father that waits for you at the end of the road.
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