A bolt of urgency shot through her. “Wait!” She bolted to her feet.
Royce paused.
“I have one more thing I must tell you. I hope you will consider it good news. It pleases me.”
Royce smiled. “You sound more frightened than happy.”
Brithwin looked at her hands as she smoothed invisible wrinkles out of the cloth covering the table. “I do not know how you will . . . feel about it. We have not discussed it thus far.”
Royce shifted his weight then cocked his head. “You have me intrigued.”
“I am with child.” The words melded together as she blurted them out.
Royce blinked. “Did you say you are to have a babe?”
Her eyes locked on to his. “Aye, we are.”
“I am to have an heir.” A smile spread across his face, lighting his eyes, bringing her joy.
“You mean we will have an heir,” she corrected.
“When is the child due?”
Brithwin grinned. “I am thinking eight months.”
“Oh, aye, eight months and I am to be a father.” He smiled and then quickly added, “And you will be a mother.”
He strode toward the door, and with each step her insides twisted a little more. She needed to know his feelings. “You are pleased, then?”
Reaching for the handle, he turned. “I am very pleased.”
He disappeared into the hall. She wanted to scream. He was very pleased. Indeed! She was still grumbling when the roar of applause came from the great hall.
“I cannot believe he walked out of here and told everyone in the great hall. You would think I have no part in this.”
Elspeth peeked her head in. “Who are you talking to?”
Brithwin sighed and let her shoulders drop. “To myself.”
“My lord is in the great hall boasting about his heir.” She stepped into the room. “You have made him a happy man.”
She crossed her arms and tapped her toe. “Have I? He did not stay around long enough for me to find out.”
“Clarice did not seem pleased with the news. Between her pinched face and her puckered lips, she looked as if she just kissed a pig.” Elspeth covered her mouth, hiding her snicker.
That made Brithwin smile. “Well, mayhap it will all work out. I need to listen to my own words. I told Lord Rosen Craig he must trust the Lord, but sometimes I forget it myself.”
Elspeth scooped the basket from the floor and began clearing the table. “Clarice will have a hard time winning milord’s attentions now.”
“I do not plan to hide in here now that he has gone down. Let us go meet the well-wishers.”
†††
Royce halted to observe Brithwin in her garden. She was unhappy, but he could not help that and keep her safe. Right now, keeping her out of harm’s way was more important. Now he had two with whom to concern himself.
“Where have you been, my lord? I have looked everywhere for you.”
Royce turned at the silky sound of Clarice’s voice. He sighed inwardly. “I have been here.”
She glanced around as if she sought his interest. “Ah, you are watching your wife. You are concerned about her, also.”
His eyebrows drew together. “Why are you concerned for my wife?”
“She is very unhappy.” Clarice’s face fell. “Especially since she found out she is with child. She worries you will not find her attractive and when the child comes you will give it all your attention.”
Royce’s blood heated. “She has told you this?”
Clarice’s eyes grew wide. “Oh! You must not tell her I said anything, my lord. She would never speak to me again.”
“Nay, my lady is too forgiving.”
Clarice laid her hand on his arm. “Then she has changed. Please keep what I have said between us. If you were to confront her with it, she would not speak freely to me anymore.”
How could Brithwin be unhappy about an heir? She didn’t seem so when he’d left her in the solar to share his good fortune with everyone. Perhaps he should have remained a little longer and sought out her real feelings.
He studied Clarice. She looked sincere. “I will say nothing to her.”
Clarice let out her breath. “Thank you. I do not wish to harm our friendship, but as her husband, I felt you should know.”
He excused himself to get on with his duties. He didn’t enjoy Clarice’s company and he needed time to think.
†††
Royce hadn’t heard nor seen anything of Montfort as the days passed by quietly. Perhaps the man had moved on to easier pickings. Edmond must have holed up somewhere off Hawkwood land. He had sent out regular patrols, and there were no signs of him. Mayhap his distancing himself from Brithwin had appeased God’s desire to punish him through her, and he could relax. At least part of his life was falling into some sort of order.
He had seen little of Brithwin, but what he did see, he didn’t like. She’d lost weight, her face appeared drawn, and she ate little. It was hard at first to believe Clarice’s words that Brithwin was not happy about the child. However, he began to, for she rarely smiled and the sparkle had left her eyes. It was as if her joy had left her, and she trudged through life because she had no other choice.
The flash of a memory burned him—Brithwin as she entered the great hall after the discovery of her friends’ brutal murders. Her eyes lacked the vibrancy he had come to expect in her. Much like now. It tore at his heart. He loved her yet could not tell her. He longed to hold her and console her, but to do so would undermine his own attempts at keeping her safe. The yearning for her laughter, to witness the glow on her face, tugged at him, but he would have to content himself with their few memories, for the time being.
He trotted to the practice field. It was always a good liberation for stress.
Royce threw himself into the mock battle. The second man fell. A young knight faced him, his gaze wavering between Royce and the man he’d just sent to his knees, gasping for air.
Royce goaded, “You will never win a battle standing there, and your friend will obviously be no help.”
Royce raised his sword, and the battle began. He swung and parried, lunged and sidestepped. The sweat dripped down his face, stinging his eyes. Battle hardened muscles complained, and his breathing strained. His foe stumbled. Royce grinned. Time to go in for the kill. The blunted practice blade touched the throat of his opponent.
“Do you yield to me?” Royce gasped.
“Mercy, milord, mercy!” the young knight cried.
Royce moved away and let him fall to the ground panting. A slap hit his shoulder.
“I see you haven’t lost your touch, old boy. What was that, three? And all younger than you.” Jarren’s eyes danced with amusement. “You won’t have to worry about them challenging your position.”
Royce grabbed his shirt from the ground and wiped his face. “They seem to come from nowhere when I pick up a blunted sword.”
“They want bragging rights to say they beat their lord.”
“I detest the day that comes.” He pulled the shirt over his head. “And here I thought they fought me only to learn from my skills.” He chuckled.
“They learn from you. Each time, they take a little more with them in hopes the next time you will be the one begging for mercy.” Jarren pulled off his shirt and picked up the practice sword.
Royce glanced at the men circled around waiting for action. The young men were no match for Jarren, either.
“I can see you men need some excitement. Perhaps a boar hunt is warranted.”
Backslapping and good-natured jesting ensued.
Royce headed toward the manor, parched. As he made his way, laughter and boasting of previous hunts floated through the air.
The young knight’s words returned to him. Mercy, milord, mercy. He shuddered. Would he someday stand before his Lord crying, “Mercy, Lord, mercy”? The words sent a dark cloud over him, for he would find none. Of late, his mind wandered more and mor
e to those dark thoughts. If he could only banish them.
Clarice moved quickly toward him as he made his way to the castle. “My lord, I need to speak to you.” Her breathless voice raised the hairs on his arms.
“Aye?”
“First, I want you to know my lady is fine.” She grasped his arm. “But she took a fall down the stairs. Lord Rosen Craig, I would not tell you this, but I worry for her. She did not trip. I saw her throw herself down the steps. I think she tries to lose the child. When I spoke to her about it, she got angry with me.”
“Where is she?”
“She is in her bed. I insisted she rest. Please do not be angry with her. She is very upset.”
Royce turned and met her gaze. “You are a true friend, Clarice. Brithwin is lucky to have you.”
She smiled at him. The smile didn’t reach her eyes, but it must be due to her concern for his wife.
Royce ran, his long strides taking up the distance between him and the manor. He flung the door open and marched up the stairs and into Brithwin’s room. “How is the babe?”
Elspeth dropped the goblet she held in her hands and scuttled after it.
“You may leave, Elspeth.” Royce ground out the words. “I will call you when I leave.”
Elspeth rushed to the door and disappeared as Brithwin pushed herself onto her elbows. “Is something wrong?”
“Is something wrong?” His voice rose with his temper. “Of course, something is wrong. You could have lost the babe.”
She laid back and, placing her hand on her belly and stared dully at the ceiling. “But I did not.”
Royce snorted. “Until it happens again.”
Did he know this woman? They had never discussed children. How was he supposed to know she wouldn’t want a babe? Most women were pleased to be with child.
Brithwin frowned. “What mean you?”
He clenched his teeth and glared at her, but she didn’t flinch. “Did you try to lose the child?”
Brithwin’s mouth dropped open and quickly closed. “Your guest, Clarice, pushed me, and I could not stop the fall!”
Royce took two quick strides to the bed and brought his hands down on it. He lowered his face to hers. “You accuse her? She rushed to tell me you had fallen, worrying about you, telling me not to be angry with you, and you lay blame on her?”
“Get out. Get out!” She fell back.
He straightened and strode to the door. He paused and scowled over his shoulder at her. “That is my child, too. Have a care.”
Royce stomped down the stairs and out into the fresh air. Did he truly believe Brithwin could harm their unborn child, or was this a way he could drive a wedge between them? He told himself it mattered not, for it achieved his purpose. She would remain safe.
†††
Brithwin stared at the door Royce had walked out. She swallowed the lump in her throat, but it would not leave. “I will not cry. It does not accomplish anything. ’Tis weakness.” Her voice threatened to betray her. Closing her eyes, she pushed the heels of her hands against them, drawing on her inner strength. She would not let one tear fall. They were useless.
How could he believe Clarice over her? Worse yet, how could he think such a wretched thing about her?
God has forsaken you, Brithwin. ’Tis time to give up. Your husband believes another woman. He cares naught for you. Did he ask about you? Nay, he only inquired on the unborn child. If God really cared, would He make you go through these trials your whole life?
Brithwin lay on her bed—a hole gaped where her heart once beat. She had lost her chance at happiness. Royce no longer cared for her nor desired her as his wife. Now that he believed she had tried to end their child’s life, he would never want her.
Sleep beckoned to her. Someone entered her chamber, but exhaustion won out and she drifted off.
When she opened her eyes, Elspeth sat beside her bed. Disquiet creased her brow. “Can I get you anything?”
Brithwin shook her head. She wasn’t sure she trusted her voice to be strong.
“You have been sleeping for a long while. I had become concerned.”
Brithwin swallowed. “Distress has likely worn me out.”
Elspeth, with her haggard face, red eyes, and pinched brows truly cared for her. God had sent this friend in her hour of need, one who had always been there and one that she needed to appreciate more.
The despair lifted. God had not left her. The enemy planted seeds of doubt, and she allowed them to grow. She must remember who she belonged to and where to put her trust.
Brithwin lifted her hand and placed it on Elspeth’s. “You are a true friend.”
Tears gathered in Elspeth’s eyes and trailed down her cheeks. “You have never called me friend.”
Brithwin smiled. “I have not, and I have been remiss in not doing so.”
†††
Montfort slipped through the trees silently. He couldn’t get anywhere near Pater. Temporarily giving up, he sought Edmond off Royce’s land. Luckily, he had evaded Hawkwood men thus far. Their daily patrols had become a nuisance. He squatted and peered over the lush green underbrush. The site where Edmond and his men slept remained quiet. He wished he had come up with a plan to his advantage. If he were to hand the information of Pater to Edmond, he would get naught for his part in it. He had to figure out a way to make Edmond pay for it.
Cold steel pressed against the side of Montfort’s neck and he stiffened. He dare not flinch. He liked his neck.
“What are you doing here, lurking about?” Edmond’s gruff voice came from behind him.
“If you take the blade from my throat, I will answer you.”
The blade dropped away and he spun around. “You could have killed me.”
Edmond lifted the knife and pressed the tip into the skin over Montfort’s heart. The steel point stung his flesh, and a drop of blood penetrated the cloth. “You would deserve it for skulking around, not making yourself known. What are you doing here? Did I not give you orders to find a place at Hawkwood?”
He jerked back and pushed away the knife. “Aye, after you beat me near unconscious.”
Edmond shrugged. “I see you survived. Now, tell me why you are here and not there.”
Montfort leaned against the nearest tree and folded his arms. “Royce did not believe the farce. I had my own personal guard, even when I could barely pull my body from the bed.”
“Did you do something to make him doubt you?” Edmond’s eyes narrowed.
“Nay, you did. ’Twas a mistake to leave me in the same place you killed the family. Insisting I give him a message added to his distrust. ’Twas not a good tactical move.”
“How did you escape?”
“I took advantage of a lapse of their judgment. Once out of the gates, I have continued to elude the patrols sent out from Hawkwood. However, I heard rumor of a large group departing in a few days to boar hunt. I decided to move on, lest I be spotted.”
“Your story sounds false. Do you work for Royce now?” Edmond lifted his sword.
“I work for myself. I come with information.” He hesitated. “To sell.”
“Fair enough. Tell me what you know.”
Montfort studied Edmond’s face. “What will you give me for it?”
Edmond grinned. “Your life, of course.”
Montfort peered into the ice-cold eyes of Edmond and flinched. He had made an error in trying to bargain with Edmond. “How do I know you will let me live if I give it to you?”
Edmond smirked at him. “You don’t. It depends on how valuable I think your information is. What you do know is, if you don’t tell me, I will end your life, here, and now.”
If he had been able to retrieve a sword before he escaped, this could be a fair fight. Without a weapon, he stood no chance. Edmond had no honor.
“’Tis about a man they call Pater.”
Edmond fingered the hilt of his sword. “Go on.”
When he finished speaking, Edmond smiled.
/> “’Tis good news for you, my friend. This information could help me obtain Rosen Craig with the king’s blessing.” He slapped him on the back. “Let us celebrate with a drink, and we can make plans on how we will acquire this Pater.”
Chapter 25
Royce rode his warhorse, with Lucas sitting behind him. The men wove their way through the trees and brush, following the game trail. Twilight approached, and they had the boar nearly worn down from the chase. The woods and evening air carried the bantering and laughter of his men, meant to hone the animal’s fear and keep it running on its familiar trail.
“Get him cornered,” a knight yelled. “’Tis getting late.”
Voices rang out simultaneously. “Aye.”
The men surrounded the exhausted animal and dismounted from their horses with thuds. As they drew their pikes and lances, the beast pawed the ground.
Royce remained on his horse, talking with Jarren. The men’s antics would normally be entertaining, but despite ensuring Brithwin’s safety within the bailey, he itched to get back and see for himself all was well there. As if sensing his discomfort, the horse flicked his ears and sidestepped.
Lucas leaned around Royce’s body and peered up at him. “Milord, can I get down and see?”
“Aye, but stay out of the men’s way and the boar’s.”
“He reminds me of myself when I was his age.” Jarren’s gaze was on the boy as he walked away. “Full of energy and too curious for my own good.”
Royce chuckled. “I am afraid that is a trait many of us can lay claim to.”
“I am surprised he wished to come with us, knowing he rescued the chicken.” Jarren grinned and shook his head.
“They got ’im, they got ’im! Come see!” Lucas jumped up and down, waving his arms in a wild gesture.
Jarren faced Royce, amusement glimmering in his eyes. “I believe you have been summoned.”
“I think that was for both of us.” Royce smirked.
Royce threw his leg off Shadowmere when a burning jolt knocked him to the ground. Jarren shouted, and before Royce could lift himself off the forest floor, his men surrounded him with swords drawn; another shout came then horses running into the woods. Royce examined the arrow that had sliced through his shoulder. “Break it and pull it out.”
Sword of Forgiveness (Winds of Change Book 1) Page 23
