The Saxon Bride (The Norman Conquest Series)

by York, Ashley

  "Sleep, my love." His words echoed in her head. That he would call her his love made her feel safe and wanted. Yes, my love, I will sleep now.

  The bright daylight shone through the window that Joan had just opened, causing Rowena to squint her eyes in pain. "Where is John?"

  Joan clutched her hands to her chest, and she came to stand beside the bed. "What do you mean?"

  "He was here. Where has he gone?"

  Joan put her hand to Rowena's forehead but she pulled back in annoyance. "I am not fevered. Where is John? I haven't had a chance to tell him about the baby."

  "My lady, he is not here."

  "He left without speaking to me?" Rowena started to sit up and was shocked by the pain stabbing in her abdomen. "Get him." Tears filled her eyes as she slipped back on to the pillow.

  "I cannot, my lady. He is not here. He hasn't been here."

  Searching her face, Rowena could see that Joan believed she was speaking the truth. The memory of his lips on her forehead made her instinctively reach to touch the spot. "He was here with me." Her voice was quiet.

  Joan shook her head, barely able to suppress the concern that revelation was having on her. "You are wrong. Your husband has not been here. You need to rest."

  "The baby?"

  "Claire said you may still lose the child unless you stay in bed." Tucking her blankets tightly around her as if to physically keep her from moving, Joan smiled and patted Rowena's hand before she left the room.

  Rowena's initial relief at finding her baby had not been lost was quickly replaced by worry over John. She looked around, searching for any sign of what she knew had happened. John had come to her and told her to rest. She could still see the way he had looked, hair all tousled, his tunic caked with the mud of his travels. What did that mean? If it wasn't John…what was it then? His ghost? Is that why he has not returned? He is dead? Slowly shaking her head in disbelief, the tears quickly grew into a torrent and Rowena buried herself up to her chin in the blankets until she cried herself into a fitful sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  "Oh, my lady." Joan dropped the stack of blankets she carried onto the floor, catching Rowena's arm just as she started to stand beside the bed. "Are you sure you should be out of bed?"

  Her hand pressed on her temple, her eyes closed in pain, Rowena wondered the same thing.

  "I believe I am getting my strength back. I only wanted to look at the snowfall."

  Joan smiled slightly at her answer.

  "Foolish, yes?"

  Joan helped her to settle back down without a word. Rowena slid her legs back beneath the blankets.

  "It is just white. No more. Just white."

  "Do not try to humor me." Rowena frowned at her maid once her dizziness subsided. "Snow is not something we see every day. Do not tell me you did not run through it this very morning!"

  Joan looked away in embarrassment.

  "I noticed your wet hem," Rowena explained.

  "It was soft and cold!" Joan's excitement was quite apparent.

  Years had gone by with not a speck of snow and now to have several inches accumulating! This was an event.

  "But you should stay abed," Joan said. Her concern was evident, and Rowena felt shame at her childish desire.

  "You are right." She ran her hand across her swelling abdomen. "Some things are even more important, aren't they?"

  Speaking more to her unborn child, Rowena looked sheepishly up at Joan.

  "I was just getting bored."

  "My lady, I am sorry I took so long to return." Collecting the items she dropped, Joan continued, "There was news of the men."

  Instantly alert, her child responded with a slight kick, bring a smile to her lips.

  "Is there more movement?" Joan had her hand out to feel what could not yet be seen. The babe kicked in answer. "Strong! That is very good."

  Rowena rubbed gently, soothingly. "Well? News?"

  She asked more out of habit than in expectation of receiving any information. It had been so many months now without a word from her husband. In all honesty, she was convinced he had returned to Normandy and left his men to see to the troubles in the area. The only thing that didn't make sense was the continued presence of Abigail in the village. She had taken up permanent residency at the Owl and Thistle, relentlessly plaguing Rowena with her presence.

  "There seems to be a settling down among the villages in the area."

  "But settling of what? You never did learn what the problem was." Her irritation was hard to hide. All this time, something was going on but no one found it necessary to tell her. If Arthur had been here, he would have been sure to come and tell her. He always kept her abreast of local developments. "Is it even something we should be concerned about?" She shook her head to her own question.

  "Patience, please." Joan patted the hand that rested on top of the blanket. "News will come soon."

  Remembering the feel of his lips on her forehead, Rowena tried to feel contented that when she was at her worst, when the death of their unborn child had seemed imminent, John had returned and strengthened them both by his presence. Even returning the child to health, although Rowena was no longer able to get out of bed for very long, it was a small price to pay for the babe. "You are right."

  "If the bleeding does not return, Claire assured me you could leave the bed safely."

  "That would be a blessing to me. Sitting here is very tiring."

  Joan placed one of the blankets in front of Rowena in answer. Its ragged hem prominently displayed.

  "Mending?" Rowena whined childishly.

  Joan settled herself on the stool close to the bed. She smiled as she started her own darning.

  "It needs to be done as well you know."

  Sitting up slightly, Rowena found the start of the tear and quickly had her wooden needle bringing the two sides into a neat row. The time passed and Rowena was surprised when Joan stood and stretched her back.

  Glancing at the window, the bright light was no longer a subdued gray. Rowena's stomach growled in answer. She rubbed her stiff fingers.

  "I am famished!"

  "You were so involved that you didn't even notice the time," Joan scolded her like a child. "In your condition, you need to eat more. I can fetch you a tray from the kitchen when we are finished here."

  "You're right but go now. I will finish this last one by the time you return."

  Joan took longer than Rowena had expected, so she piled the blankets on the stool. She leaned back to stretch then closed her eyes. She resorted to rubbing her swollen belly and thinking about her little girl. In her mind's eye she pictured her with John's dark hair and kind, brown eyes. Certainly she would have a precocious smile and win over everyone's heart. She would have a lilting voice and learn to sing with Cedric. Rowena sighed. She missed the entertainment from the hall. There had been no visitors since her confinement. Perhaps she should ask to have some visitors. She yawned and rubbed her eyes. Mending was so tiring.

  When she stretched toward the side table to put her needle down, Rowena noticed the brown leaf. Beside her candle, a brown twig was partially obscured. Retrieving it, she recognized it as a lady slipper well past its prime. Strange that it should be there. John's concerned face immediately came to mind. Tenderly she brought it to her cheek. John had been here and he'd brought her this flower.

  She turned onto her side and placed the brown plant in the spot where John's head should be resting in his sleep. Her arm reached out to the cold spot where he should be lying and cried in earnest. Sleep came quickly.

  §

  The snowfall was a godsend. Not knowing how long it would last, the men doubled their efforts to find any sign of the murderers. They spread out through the dense forest that ran between the villages north of the last victims. This was the only way they could have retreated without being caught. John and his men had surrounded them on all sides but believing they were coming from the south, they had not adequately covered this area. John cur
sed himself again for not anticipating the latest massacre.

  A hawk passed overhead casting its shadow across them as it flew. An omen. The bright sun would quickly melt the thin blanket of snow. They needed to cover as much ground as possible. There had to be some sign. Snorting, John closed his eyes and offered up a quick prayer for help.

  The shrill whistle of an imaginary bird penetrated the dark forest. It was Peter's signal. The trees muffled the sound of the men as they quickly headed toward its source.

  John stepped through the group of men to see what Peter pointed to. These tracks were half covered by the snow while others were clearly seen. They must have traveled through here just as the snow had started. They had four hours head start.

  "How many men?" John asked.

  "Looks like one, two…" Peter pointed as he spotted the now obvious signs, "…three…"

  "Four!" Philip called from their left, pointing down as well. "Five, six."

  Only six? That didn't seem right. There were at least two riders unaccounted for.

  "Search more closely but do it quickly." John's irritation was rising. If the group had split up then they may realize they were being followed.

  "These men are ruthless," Peter stated the obvious and shook his head in disgust. "At what will they stop?"

  "My lord!" Henry called to John. He was at the forest's edge where the sun was already blurring the outline of the destrier's hoof. "It looks as if other riders are headed back east."

  John's heart lurched. The castle was to the east. Rowena was to the east. Why would they go there? Looking to Peter, he saw that he was concerned as well.

  "What harm could come to the castle? They are well protected there," Peter said reassuringly.

  "We have taken away their only protection for this search. I left only a few loyal men behind."

  "Loyalty is certainly the issue."

  "We don't know who can be trusted at the castle."

  Peter shook his head slowly, his mouth a thin line.

  "We can't leave the castle undefended if an attack seems imminent." How many of the Saxons would follow him if there was an attack?

  "This may be our only chance of catching these murderers," Peter gestured to the miraculous tracks they'd been able to find because of the snow.

  "We need every man we have here."

  "You need to go," Peter said.

  "I need to be leading the men."

  "John, you need to go back. Take Philip so that you will not walk into a trap or be caught unprepared. You two are the only ones who have a chance of getting back to the castle before these men." Peter gestured to the tracks headed due east. "If these men are as devious as we believe, they may be friends of the castle men who would let them in without a second thought. Who knows what would happen once they are inside?"

  John's mind went unbidden to Rowena. Something could happen to her. If these men were after money, and they knew they were being hunted, they may very well abduct her for the costly ransom she would bring. Abducted women were not well treated. The idea of any man laying hands on his wife turned his blood cold.

  "You're right. See to the men, Peter."

  Without a backward glance, John and Philip urged their horses back to the castle. If they found nothing amiss, they could prepare the castle's defense.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Rowena slowly walked in the barren garden, her cloak and mantle held tightly against the frigid cold. She was exhilarated. She had spent too much time inside. The cold felt wonderful against her face and her breath puffed ahead of her as she laughed. It was good to be alive. The babe kicked in agreement. Now heavy with child, she tired quickly but was so glad to be getting up and around.

  "My lady?" Joan added another blanket around her shoulders as she spoke. "Do not stay over long. Remember Claire said in small amounts."

  "Nag, nag, nag," Rowena gave her an indulgent smile.

  She was tired of being treated as if she were sick. The force of the baby's movements within told her the child was fine. There had been no more bleeding. She would have a healthy baby girl. And she would look like her father. The melancholy came out of nowhere, and she turned away from her observant friend before Joan could see her tears.

  "I only want to keep you safe." Resting her hand on Rowena's shoulder, she squeezed comfortingly and went back inside where it was warm.

  Rowena exhaled in resignation. There was no help for it. What bliss if John were to return to her. Since he had not yet done that, she needed to just keep going. Perhaps her melancholy was just natural. She felt strong in spirit most of the time. Her dreams at night were vivid. She could actually feel her husband's hand caressing her as he made love to her once again.

  The cough startled her from her reminiscences. Turning toward the sound, Rowena took a moment to get over the shock of seeing the red-haired man standing in the same place she'd last seen him.

  "Arthur? Arthur!" She flew into his arms and hugged him to her. "How wonderful to see you." Unexpectedly, the tears began to flow again.

  Arthur cleared his throat and she pulled back. He pulled off his gloves and tucked them behind his scabbard, fingers out. His cheeks looked sunken in, his clothes were filthy.

  "Are you ill?" she asked.

  He tenderly wiped the tear from her cheek. His hand was rough against her skin. "Do you cry for me, my lady?" Arthur's voice was unusually raspy.

  "I am happy to see you, my dear friend."

  A gray cloud blocked the late winter sun and Rowena shivered involuntarily. She stepped back, suddenly awkward with him.

  "How have you been?" she asked.

  Rubbing his scalp, he ran his fingers through hair so dirty it was almost brown. He grimaced, seeming to ponder the proper answer. "I am well. I have been greatly concerned for you." His breathing rattled in his chest.

  Her eyes filled again. She put her arm on his leather armband. "I appreciate your concern."

  His eyes brightened. He took a step toward her, closing the small distance and she fought down the urge to retreat.

  "I have always been concerned for you," he said.

  He took the hand that rested on his arm and brought it slowly to his mouth where he kissed it tenderly, his eyes never leaving her face. "I would do aught for you."

  Rowena knew it was true. He had always said as much to her. Now it appeared she was alone again and he had come to her rescue.

  "Shall we sit?" She used the opportunity to put distance between them and led him to the garden bench. The baby lurched inside her and she gasped lightly.

  "Are you well?" Arthur still held her hand when he sat beside her. His frown deepened. She smiled reassuringly and nodded. "How have you fared these winter months?"

  "Well enough although I have been lonely," she said.

  "Ah, is that why you sit out here in the garden? You are overcome with loneliness?"

  "I needed fresh air." The isolation of the space suddenly made her uneasy, and she wondered how she could move their conversation inside. It seemed silly to not feel safe with Arthur. "Perhaps we should move inside."

  When she started to stand, he held her hand fast, forcing her to remain seated. His grip was overly firm. Her uneasiness grew.

  "Let us talk first," he said.

  Relenting, Rowena settled down again. His eyes were cold, unreadable.

  "Do you have news?"

  "I would not have you be here alone," Arthur said.

  "This is my home. Where else would I be?"

  "Do you fear you have been abandoned?"

  The frankness of his question surprised her. He appeared to be holding something back.

  "Have you news? I know there has been unrest in the area but I have not heard what the cause was."

  Arthur shook his head in disgust. "It is always the same trouble. The Normans push the Saxons around and we fight back."

  He spoke as if distracted. Rowena waited for him to say more. He did not.

  "It is just the same fighting
then?"

  "Did I not just say as much?" His voice rose in irritation. Rowena never knew Arthur to speak so to anyone and especially not to her.

  "Arthur." She reached her other hand out from her cape, exposing her swollen abdomen underneath. "Tell me what you know."

  Arthur seemed mesmerized by the sight of her body. Rowena resisted the urge to pull the ends of her cape back together. She was not indecent. She was just pregnant. When his eyes met hers, she would swear she saw tears.

  "What is amiss?" Quickly the look was gone. "Has something happened to John? Tell me, please. I need to know."

  Arthur stood suddenly, and he let her hand drop abruptly onto the bench. He walked a short distance away before turning toward her again. His face was red, his jaw clenched while he looked to be struggling with what to say. "I am afraid you are correct. John has been injured."

  Rowena's body tensed in response. She stood and reached out to Arthur. Stepping away from her reach, he continued. "I have come to bring you to him right away."

  "What? Why did you not tell me immediately? I must tell Joan…"

  "No!" Arthur's grasp hurt where he pulled her arm unexpectedly.

  "We must leave now. I told Joan when I saw her. There is no time to wait."

  Rowena frowned, uncertain what to do. It did not feel right to just leave. She wanted to tell someone. "But…"

  "There is no time! We must leave! Now!" His harsh voice broke through her befuddlement, and she allowed him to lead her roughly through the outer bailey.

  "Please. You are hurting me." She pulled against him but he didn't seem to notice. Thoughts of John maimed and dying caused havoc to her senses. "How far must we travel?"

  Arthur was pushing her up onto his horse. "It is not far. We will do better traveling together."

  "Are you sure? My horse is…"

  "I am sure!" The force of his command startled her. He didn't seem to notice as he settled behind her and took the reins, effectively imprisoning her where she sat. "Keep silent and we will arrive shortly."