Brithwin wiped the remains of her tears with her sleeve. “But I feel a heaviness I have not felt before. My soul cries out for something, but I know not what. I ask, but there is no answer.”
“Do you perhaps have unconfessed sin weighing on you?”
“Nay.” Brithwin swallowed. She could not look at him.
Pater remained silent.
“Aye,” she said quietly.
A glimmer of light flickered in Pater’s eyes. “You need to confess your sin, and you will find your burden lighter.”
Brithwin pushed herself off her knees and slid onto the bench. “I cannot forgive my father. He was cruel up to the day he died.”
Pater rose and placed his hand on her head. “Did Christ die so your sins could be forgiven?”
“Yes.”
His hand skimmed down to her shoulder as Pater sat on the edge of the bench. “What did you do to deserve forgiveness?”
“Nothing.” Brithwin took in a deep breath as his words sank in. “I have done nothing to deserve it.”
“Still He forgives you, and now you must forgive because He tells you to. The forgiveness is not for your father, dear Brithwin. It is for you. When you forgive your father, you set yourself free from that sin.” Pater smiled. “And mayhap it will change the way your heart views your husband.”
Shame filled her. “How were you able to forgive, Pater? You were imprisoned for as long as I can remember.”
“’Tis the fate of many Lollards. Many died for what they believed or were forced to retract their beliefs. I count myself fortunate to have lived to see you grow into the lovely lady you are today.”
“Why did my father spare your life? ’Tis not as if the man had any mercy. Did it have to do with my mother? I know you arrived here at the same time as she.”
Pater pulled the collar up on his neck. “He spared my life only because I would not die, but that is a story for another day.” Pater rose and moved toward the door. “And you, my child, I believe, have some business with the Lord.”
†††
A month had passed since the wedding and a fortnight since Pater had encouraged her to forgive. She strolled between the rows of herbs in her garden. The anger she’d had toward her father grew less each day as Pater had assured her it would. Healing takes time, as does learning to trust, he’d told her. She supposed learning to trust helped in the healing.
Yet what of her husband? Trusting God was much easier than trusting a man she did not know or understand, a man who treated her like chattel. Brithwin made her way into the bailey.
Godwin, a man-at-arms, dropped a rock onto a pile and bent to pick up another. She hurried toward him. “What are you doing, Godwin?”
He wiped the sweat from his forehead and left a trail of blood. “Milord told me to move the rocks over yonder to here.”
Brithwin stepped forward to touch his forehead. “You are bleeding!”
Godwin ducked his head. “’Tis nothing, milady. Just me hands.”
“Let me see them.”
He splayed his scraped hands before her.
Brithwin frowned. “You need to get those washed and salve on them before they fester.”
“I still have rocks to move, milady.”
“They can wait.”
Godwin’s gazed darted around. “’Tis punishment, milady. For falling asleep on watch.”
Brithwin forced herself to sound stern. “Godwin, you served my father, and now you serve me.” She folded her arms in front of her. “I am telling you to clean the blood off your hands and put salve on them before you are unable to stand guard duty.”
“Yes, milady.”
“Good. Now go.” Brithwin pivoted to go into her garden.
“My lady, what did you just do?” Royce’s soft words came from behind her and the ice in his tone made her freeze.
She cringed as she slowly turned to face him. “Someone around here needs to care for my people.”
Royce flexed his hands. “’Tis punishment.”
Brithwin cocked her head. “He has been punished. You have drawn blood. And he now applies salve to his wounds. Do you wish to continue the punishment until he is no longer able to protect this dwelling?”
Royce stepped forward. “You undermine my authority. You take my seat to show power over me, you interfered with my punishment of the boy—and now this. I have tried to be patient, but I have had enough.”
He seized her arm in a fierce grip and dragged her toward the castle. Her people stopped and stared as she struggled to keep up with his steps. Heat surged to her cheeks when chortles came from some of the men. She hoped and prayed they were Royce’s men and not her own.
At the bottom of the stairs, she planted her feet and jerked her arm within his tight grasp. “I am not taking another step. Unhand me.”
Royce’s gaze darkened. He bent down and threw her over his shoulder.
†††
Royce grunted from the pounding of fists Brithwin inflicted on his back as he stomped up the stairs. The little vixen had power in those hands when angry. He’d have bruises on the morrow. “Enough, Brithwin.” She was causing him precious time and if the scout’s sighting of Edmond proved correct, the troublesome man was escaping even now.
He’d made his way through her door when her words came grating out. “Then put me down!”
Royce took two steps and dumped her on the bed. He’d been in her room twice and both times with the same result—although the previous occasion’s warm feelings now erupted in hot anger. “I have business to attend to. While I’m away, you are to occupy yourself with accepting that I run this castle.”
Royce walked out and locked the door. A few hours of wondering when he would return should help her understand the way of things. She would learn to submit.
He made his way out of the castle and met a smiling knight in the bailey. “Ya done right, sir.”
If ’twere anyone but Brithwin, he would be a laughingstock. Clearly, the vixen’s ability to try a man’s patience was well understood in Hawkwood. “What’s your name?”
“Floyd, sir.”
“You’ve been here long?”
The knight shifted. “Long enough.”
“In two hours I want you to send a maid to unlock my lady’s room.” Brithwin had cost him valuable time. He didn’t have minutes to track down a maid.
He clenched his teeth as memories of his last encounter with Edmond came to mind. He didn’t want the man to slip through his fingers as he had when they stumbled across the small village where Edmond and his men went on a killing rampage.
“Two hours? Ah, yes, sir.”
Royce walked to the stables and found Jarren and Philip, one of Royce’s knights, waiting.
“Are the horses ready?”
“Saw to it myself.” Jarren arched a brow. “What is eating at you?”
“’Tis that woman I married. I’d like to turn her over my knee.” Royce scowled. “What are you grinning for?”
“I was remembering a conversation I had with you before you wed. I believe your words were, ‘As my wife she has to obey and will have to answer to me.’”
Royce stalked into the stables.
†††
Locked in the chamber adjoining Royce’s—the one that had been her mother’s—Brithwin dangled her feet off the side of the bed and glanced at the adjoining door. She had heard him lock the hall exit. She slid from the bed and tiptoed to his door; perhaps he’d forgotten to lock it. She pulled on the latch. It didn’t budge.
Brithwin stomped back and flung herself onto the bed. What terrible thing had she done for him to lock her in her room? She meant only to see to a man’s welfare. Royce was like every other man in authority. Give him power and he wielded it like a weapon. He could leave her in here, for all she cared, as long as she didn’t have to see him.
Brithwin stayed on her bed, listening for the sound of a key in the door as she watched the sun set in the sky. How long was he going to
leave her here? If only she had not given Elspeth permission to visit her family, she would be freed by now.
With each passing hour, her anger tightened in her chest. The room grew dim, and she scooted off the bed to light a fire. Her heart raced as she knelt to stir the embers with a piece of kindling. No spark winked among the ashes. What had she been thinking, letting the fire die this far? She dropped the stick and dug through the ash with her hands. A cold chill trickled down her spine. She scanned the room for a piece of flint—nothing. Falling back on her heels, she swallowed, trying to rid herself of the constricting pain in her throat. Darkness—her father’s favorite punishment.
Her heart hammered in her chest. What have I done this time, Father? Have you reached me even from your grave? She rushed to the window in search of light. Torches flickered, tiny pinpricks in the distance, too far away to calm her pounding heart.
When would Royce come? Or would she spend the entire night in the dark? She opened her mouth to call for help but thought better of it. She could not show such weakness. Brithwin dropped to the floor, hugging her knees to her. Oh, God, please let the punishment end.
Chapter 9
It was late when Royce and his men returned. Edmond had disappeared, but there was no doubt he had ridden around Hawkwood, with the amount of fresh hoof prints skimming the woods on the western border, too large for a palfrey—only a warhorse could have left them. The man was up to no good. Royce could feel it all the way to his bones.
He plodded up the stairs. The search should have taken a few hours but instead dragged on until darkness fell, slowing their progress more. He pushed open his solar door and traipsed across to his chamber. Brithwin’s voice came from beyond her portal, and Royce stopped to listen. Whom was she talking to this late? Her words came fast and high, and he couldn’t make sense of them. He unlocked the door and stepped into the thick darkness. Brithwin screamed and scuttled backward. He followed the sound. She shrieked at him to stay away. A crash sounded on the floor ahead of him, followed by a softer thump. Royce rushed forward. Feeling his way around the fallen table, his hands brushed over Brithwin. As he pulled her up, Brithwin’s cries became more frantic, and she pounded her small fists against his chest. What game did she play?
“Let me go. Let me go!” Her voice rose to shrill panic.
Royce seized both her wrists. “Brithwin. Brithwin! Calm yourself. ’Tis me. Royce.”
Her muscles relaxed as she sagged into him. She trembled like a frightened bird. Not a game, then—she truly feared something. He released her wrists and pulled her to him. Running his hands through her hair, he whispered, “’Tis well now. Shhh. All is well.”
When she had calmed, he scooped her up and carried her to his solar, where the fire burned bright, and set her in a chair. For all the fear that contorted her face, not one tear had fallen. He gave her time to calm herself.
When her breathing had slowed and the terror melted from her face, Royce knelt before her. “Did you have a nightmare?”
Brithwin shook her head.
“Are you well now?”
She drew in a shaky breath and nodded.
“Then let’s get you to your room.” Royce stood, trying to suppress the urge to run his hand over her hair as one would cosset a small, upset child.
“Nay! Please.” Her voice came out in a frantic plea, but it was the fear and the entreaty in her eyes that gave him pause. “Will you light the fire in my room…my lord? Please.”
Royce frowned. What was going on here? “Did someone hurt you while I was away?”
Brithwin shook her head and took a deep breath. She took a second deep breath and cleared her throat. “If you would light a fire in my room, I will return.”
Royce stared at her. He’d not seen so much all-consuming fear, not even in the battlefield. Why did she choose to bear it alone? His gut twisted. “Aye, I will. But you will tell me why you were so upset.”
Brithwin shook her head and looked at the floor. “’Tis nothing. If you would only light a fire for me, my lord.” Not a hint of rancor in her murmured my lord.
Royce lifted her chin with his finger. “I would know what frightens you so.”
Her eyes narrowed and she tipped her chin away from his hand. “I am fine.” He watched in fascination as the muscle in her jaw flexed. “’Twas you, sir, who locked me up with no food nor fresh water. And you do not frighten me.”
“I left orders for your door to be unlocked,” he said softly, “my lady.” Why hadn’t Floyd seen to her release as he was told?
A fiery gleam slowly replaced the alarm he’d seen in her eyes. Whatever had upset her had passed. Royce tipped his head and grabbed a torch from the wall as he strode into her chamber to light the hearth.
As soon as he had the fire blazing, Brithwin stomped into her room and excused him. His gaze swept over her. What had caused her such anxiety? And how could a woman so frightened become that angry in the blink of an eye?
To see his wife so full of fear tore at his heart. Royce stomped out of his room in search of Floyd. He would find out why his orders were not obeyed. He would have answers, and they had best be good ones.
Throwing open the door of the castle, Royce rushed down the stone steps and nearly ran into Floyd in the courtyard.
“Good eventide, milord.” The light of torches glimmered off a toothless smile.
Royce scowled. “It was not for my wife. She has been locked in her room since I left, with no food, water, or fire. What is your excuse for disobeying my orders?”
“I—I didn’t think… I thought you would be pleased that she was kept from causing trouble.”
“Your first answer was correct. You did not think. I gave you an order and I expected you to heed it. A man who doesn’t obey is of no use to me.”
“I—I am sorry, milord.” He bowed his head. “It won’t happen again.”
“To be sure. But to help you remember, you’ll spend this night in the dungeon, with no water or light. Pity you have had your evening meal. My wife did not get hers.”
Royce called to Daffydd and turned Floyd over to him. As Daffydd led the man away, Royce called to him. “On the morrow, Floyd, you will go to my lady’s garden that she loves, and you will pull weeds and line the aisles with stone.”
“Milord, gardening is a woman’s task. I am a warrior,” Floyd argued.
“Tomorrow it is your task. You have caused my lady undue distress. Now you will relieve her of her duties. And don’t forget to apologize for your thoughtlessness.”
†††
Only a few days had passed since the ordeal of being locked in her room. The memories of that night reignited all her old fears and still haunted Brithwin. She pushed the thoughts away as she hurried to the village to check on Guy, Murielle, and their grandson, whose mind never was right, and to bring them a basket of food. Guy and Murielle had been a light in the darkness all her years growing up. She would visit them whenever she got to town, and Murielle always had a treat for her. But the years had not been kind to them, and now they needed her help. Getting to the village twice a week had become more difficult since Royce arrived. He’d disrupted her whole life. But Tuesday she’d arisen early to avoid him.
She knocked on her friends’ door and heard the shuffling of feet as they drew nearer to the door.
The hinges creaked. Murielle greeted Brithwin with a toothless smile, gesturing for her to enter.
Brithwin set her basket on the rickety table and turned to Murielle’s husband. “How is Guy today?”
“I am doing well enough for an old man. I expect to walk again in no time.”
It was their regular dialogue. She gave him the smile she knew he waited for and sat next to him.
Brithwin rubbed her arms briskly. “’Tis chilly in here. You should burn some wood.”
The old man pulled his blanket tighter around himself. “Can’t use up all our wood.”
“Warm weather will be here to stay in a sennight. You should ke
ep your fire burning and your house warm until then. I will see you don’t run out of wood. You do not want to catch a chill.”
Time slipped away while Guy and Murielle told Brithwin all there was to know about her villeins, and Brithwin filled them in on the castle gossip. The old couple had always held a special place in her heart. When she was young, she use to slip away to the village and Murielle would have special treats for her. However, that was when Guy was well and able to work. Now they would starve if she didn’t bring them food.
Brithwin’s gaze searched the small cottage. “Where is Malcolm?”
“He is hiding in the loft. He ran there when you knocked.” Murielle glanced in that direction.
“Will you ask him to come and fetch some wood, and I will build you a cozy fire before I take my leave?”
Brithwin set about stirring the coals while she waited for the wood. Once young Malcolm had brought the logs and the fire was crackling, she said her good-byes and began her walk back to the castle.
She’d stayed later than she’d planned. Foot traffic on the twilit road had thinned to a few stragglers who’d long disappeared. A quick glance around sent her mind abuzz—no one as far as she could see, yet she had the eerie feeling someone watched her. Gravel crunched beneath her leather sole shoes, sending an animal scampering out of a small thicket and away from her path. She glanced over her shoulder. A shiver ran through her body, causing her to quicken her step. Next time she would bring Thor.
The silhouette of stone turrets against a moon lit sky came into view. She held up her gown and ran to the portcullis.
As she walked through the gate, a sigh escaped her lips. There was nothing like the safety of the castle walls. Brithwin made her way through the bailey and to the great hall for dinner.
†††
Royce paced the floor as he waited for Daffydd. Brithwin had left early in the morning and not returned until well after the evening meal. Had Daffydd not been following her, he would have driven himself mad with worry. A knock sounded on the door.
Sword of Forgiveness (Winds of Change Book 1) Page 7
