“No.” It was Rand that not only broke the silence but spoke for all. “The stupid bastard had it coming,” he turned his back on the corpse. “What do you want us to do with these boats then?”
“They are coming,” Yrre was sat on the jetty, he grinned down at Merton and then he went feet over arse as he rolled backwards and landed with two feet firmly planted on the deck of the boat.
Merton pushed past Eadger and came to stand next to his best friend. Yrre reached round and squeezed Merton on his shoulder, a stupid grin still on his face. “She is going to be back in your arms soon, my friend.”
Merton inhaled deeply, his heart hammering inside of his chest. “What if she doesn’t—”
“She will,” Yrre reassured. “She will…”
But Merton had stopped listening, for Alan had come into view and he was carrying Amandine in his arms. Merton’s immediate fear was that she was dead, but then he saw movement, and he could breathe again.
“He is carrying her. Yrre—”
“By the gods man, calm down,” Yrre advised, although it was he who was almost bouncing in his excitement and not Merton, who looked like he was about to pass out. “The poor girl thought she was to die today. She probably fainted.”
Yrre was more than likely right, but that did not help settle Merton’s nerves one bit. He scratched the back of his neck and began to fidget on his feet. “Come on. Come on. Come on,” he whispered as he watched Alan weave his way around the bodies of the dead soldiers.
“You have been busy,” Alan called as he neared the boat. His gaze caught Merton’s, and he grinned. “I found something that belongs to you. I thought you might want her back.”
“Any trouble?” Yrre asked.
“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Alan replied. “Thank God.”
“Pass her to Yrre,” Merton ordered, and although he was desperate to hold her himself, with only one hand, it made such things difficult.
Yrre smiled as Alan gently passed Amandine to him, no one noticed the silk purse fall onto the deck.
Merton drank the sight of her in. Her eyes were closed, she looked like death and stank of sickness, but none of that mattered. She was alive. His Amandine was alive. He reached out and tenderly touched the softness of her cheek with the back of his fingers. A part of him could not believe that she was here, and he was touching her. It seemed surreal.
“She needs water,” Alan said as he jumped onto the deck.
“Eadger get us out of here,” Yrre commanded. But he need not have bothered for Eadger was one step ahead of him and was already on the jetty, releasing the ropes that anchored the boat in place.
“What about Sampson? Is he back yet?” Alan queried.
“Oh damn it, I forgot about the monk,” Eadger replied. “How long shall we give him?”
“A few more minutes, but we must not linger. If Sampson isn’t back soon, then he is on his own.” Alan replied. “I pray he hasn’t run into any trouble.”
Yrre placed Amandine carefully down near the stern of the boat. Merton immediately sat down beside her, ignoring any pain his body inflicted upon him.
“Amandine?” Merton said her name, hoping for a response, but she did not stir. “What have they done to you?” he asked desperately as he touched her cheek again. She was so thin. Her cheekbones protruded from her face, and there were dark rings around her eyes. “Oh my love, what have they done?” he asked again. He gently unwrapped the nun’s veil and threw it overboard. Seeing her shorn hair brought tears to his eyes, as did the ugly scar on her neck. Everything Alan had said was true. How had she survived this long in the face of such cruelty? He carefully moved so he could lay her head upon his chest and wrap his arm around her. He was reassured as he felt her chest moving as she breathed. She was alive. He could want for nothing more, but that did not stop the tears that slipped down his cheeks.
“She needs to drink,” Yrre stated, his voice filled with compassion as he knelt down next to Merton.
“Yrre…” his name came out like a plea, Merton didn’t know what he was asking, he just…
“I know,” Yrre reassured. “You have got her back. We did it.”
Merton breathed out in relief. “Yes. We did.” He smiled, even though his heart was breaking for everything that she had suffered.
Yrre helped Merton to sit. Merton kept his arm firmly wrapped around Amandine because there was no way he was ever going to let her go again.
“You are going to have to help me,” Merton stated, hating the fact that he could not hold her and hold a drink at the same time.
Yrre placed the cup to her lips. When she didn’t respond, he dipped a clean cloth into the cup. Merton positioned her so her head fell back a little and Yrre carefully squeezed the cloth against her lips and a few drops of water found its way into her mouth. She swallowed, and Yrre repeated the process several times.
“We will give her a few minutes then try again,” Yrre stated. “You are not going to lose her now, so you can stop that thought before it takes root.”
“Here comes Sampson,” Alan said, interrupting whatever Merton was going to say in return. “And it looks like he could do with some help.”
Sampson sprinted up the jetty, the skirts of his grey habit flapping about his legs as he ran. Behind him were two Breton soldiers, their swords raised to strike.
“I guess we had better help him then,” Rand said, raising his bow.
“No, he will be fine,” Yrre replied as he reached for his bow as well. “Sampson has that God of his on his side.”
The soldiers were closing in on Sampson — it was only a matter of seconds before he was struck down.
“I don’t think his God is going to help him,” Rand stated, taking aim.
“You think…?” Yrre asked, taking aim also.
Rand let loose an arrow, and Yrre did likewise. The impact of the arrows sent the soldiers flying backwards. Both were dead before they hit the ground.
Sampson did not stop running as he neared the boat. Instead, he took a flying jump off the jetty. “Go, go, go, go, go,” he yelled as he landed on his side with a painful thud that made the boat rock terribly.
An alarm bell began to toll. And screams could be heard coming from the road as the peasantry were trampled under galloping horses’ hooves.
Alan swore. “They know she is gone, row for your bloody lives.”
“We will die before we let anyone take her,” Yrre promised. He gave Merton a reassuring grin and moved across the boat. He sat down and took up an oar.
Merton kissed Amandine’s forehead and watched as armed knights urged their horses along the cliff face. “Let there be a breeze,” he mumbled. Amandine stirred in his arms, and he held her a little tighter.
Sampson, despite being winded, took up an oar. At the same time, he called upon God to protect the vessel and everyone who was on it. He hoped God would overlook some of his companions’ rather questionable religious beliefs.
As they rowed, they all watched as soldiers stormed the jetty and began to commandeer the boats.
“I am going to enjoy this,” Eadger stated, rowing hard as he watched the proceedings in the harbour.
“Just get us out of here,” Merton yelled.
“Why are they not following us?” Sampson asked after several minutes of hard rowing, for not one boat had left the harbour.
“They would have a hard job to,” Yrre stated, “without oars.”
“You stole all the oars?” Sampson asked. He turned on the bench to look at Yrre, an impressed expression on his red, sweaty, face.
“Not stole, hid,” Yrre explained. “It will take a while for them to find them, that’s if they ever will, and by then we will be long gone.”
“We have the gods on our side, feel that breeze, Yrre,” Eadger said, raising his face to the wind.
“Let’s get those sails up then,” Yrre stated, grinning from ear to ear.
Sampson stopped rowing and tried to catch his breath. He wat
ched as Yrre and Eadger tackled the sails, while Rand took control of the steering oar. “Please God,” he prayed, looking up at the sky. “Give me the strength never to agree to one of Merton’s plans again.” He lay back on the bench and placed his hand on his heart, which beat frantically under his palm, and began to laugh.
“Have a drink, you earned it,” Alan said.
Sampson sat up and took the offered wineskin. “He is a mad son-of-a-bitch,” Sampson said, looking at Merton as he took a swig of ale.
“And now he has got you swearing,” Yrre said as he secured the sail. “It is all downhill from now, Monk,” he grinned at Brother Sampson.
“Do you know I have never felt more alive than in this moment,” Sampson said with astonishment.
“Welcome to our world,” Yrre stated with a grin, ruffling the monk’s hair with his hand in a friendly manner, as he went to find his seat.
Sampson took another swig of ale, and his gaze rested on Merton. The smile faded from his face. Abbot Daniel had been right. He had been blind. He had listened to those he should not. He had mistakenly believed that the Pope’s way was the right way. But now his eyes were opened, and he saw that the Pope’s way was not God’s way. It was time for a different perspective. It was time for a new Church and a new way. And besides, now he came to think of it, he had always questioned the Church of Rome’s timing of Easter. He rose to his feet. Ducking past the sail, he made his way to where Merton sat.
“How is she?” Sampson asked with concern.
“She hasn’t opened her eyes.”
“Let me listen to her heart,” Sampson ordered softly.
Merton moved his hand so the monk could place his head upon her chest.
“Her heart is strong,” Sampson said after a few silent moments. He raised his head and gave Merton an encouraging smile. “I am not going to pretend that she has not got a long road to recovery ahead of her. She was in a bad way when the Abbot and I first saw her. I think she has been starving herself and she has definitely not been drinking. Abbot Daniel managed to get her to drink some ale, but it didn’t stay down for very long. Do not try to make her drink a lot at once, little sips to start with.” Sampson took the cloth that was still in the cup and held it to her mouth. As before she swallowed the drops of water and her tongue came out to wet her lips.
“Let’s get this habit off her and give her a little wash. No one wants to wake up smelling of sick.”
Merton helped the monk as much as he could, and soon the nun’s habit followed the veil into the sea.
“She is so thin,” Sampson stated as he shook out a fur.
“She is wearing my tunic,” Merton said in disbelief as he recognised the garment and tears once more filled his eyes. “Surely she has not been wearing this, all this time...?” he looked questionably at Alan.
“No. I didn’t even know Amandine still had it,” Alan replied.
“What does this mean? Why…? Did she want to die wearing my clothes?” his gaze instinctively sought Yrre’s.
“She loves you,” Yrre answered with a shrug. “Amandine is a brave and loyal woman,” there was respect in his eyes, “worthy of a warrior like you.”
Merton lowered his head and rested his cheek on the top of Amandine’s head. He sniffed back the tears and watched as Sampson tucked two thick furs over them both. Sampson then reached across and touched her forehead.
“No fever,” Sampson said with encouragement. “Let’s try her with some more water, and then I think we will let her be for a while. Sleep is sometimes the best healer.”
When Sampson finished giving her the water, he turned to leave so Merton could have a little privacy.
“Sampson?”
“Yes?” Sampson said turning back around to look at Merton.
“Thank you. I am forever in your debt.”
Sampson smiled. “Actually...I sort of enjoyed it. Except for when I was dressed up as a nun, don’t ask me to do that again because I won’t. I didn’t like having to sneak behind two heavily armed guards either. Nor did I appreciate having to lock myself in what was once, your chamber — I must say Mordred has better taste in furnishings—”
“Philippe has given Mordred my room?” Merton asked with disgust.
“The climbing out the window — I could have done without that,” Sampson continued. “And that tunnel… I hate that tunnel. Did you know there was a half decomposed body down there? It was disgusting. The smell coming off him…” Sampson screwed up his nose at the memory. “And what with all the vermin...” Sampson shivered, and his face showed his disgust. “And then not to mention being seen and having to run for my life. I think I have aged ten years in the past couple of hours.”
“Be reassured, you don’t look a day over twelve,” Yrre said, joining in the conversation.
“I have no idea how I am going to go back to Caldey after all of this,” Sampson said, ignoring Yrre’s words.
“But you will,” Merton said knowingly. “You know you will. Sampson, can I ask two more favours and then I swear I will never bother you again.”
“Of course.”
“I want you to marry us—”
“Merton,” Sampson shook his head.
“Alan said that the Pope annulled their marriage, so she is free. There is no reason why we cannot wed.”
Sampson sighed and shook his head again. “You are both damned. I cannot marry you. I cannot give God’s blessing.”
“Sampson, please. You are closer to God than the Pope could ever hope to be. I want God, and I want the Church, to sanction our marriage. Handfasting isn’t enough. Please…”
Sampson frowned as he listened to Merton’s plea. He closed his eyes briefly and prayed to God for guidance. If he could form a new Church, that was not subject to the Church of Rome’s law, then there would be nothing to stop him from lifting Merton’s and Lady Amandine’s damnation. So what if the Church of Rome damned them? The Church of Briton would be God’s Church and she would not be so condemning, as the prayer of David said, ‘You, Lord, are forgiving and good, abounding in love to all who call to you.’ Yes, a new dawn was on the horizon, and with God as his guide anything was possible. He opened his eyes and looked at Merton.
“Sampson, please. I don’t want to beg, but I will get down on my knees and do so if that will make you change your mind. Marry us. Please. Please…”
Sampson smiled and he felt a great sense of peace descend upon him. God was near. “It will be my very great honour to proclaim you man and wife.”
“You will marry us?” Merton said, the relief in his voice all to evident.
“I will marry you. But hold your horses,” Sampson said when Merton began to grin. “I have one condition.”
“Go on,” Merton encouraged warily. “What is your condition?”
“You have to tell her that Garren is alive. Merton, she has to know the truth. She deserves honesty after everything she has been through.”
Merton kissed the top of her head. “I know and I will. I’m just scared to lose her to him. He doesn’t deserve her.”
“That may be true, but she may never forgive you if you lied. What was the other favour?”
“I want…” Merton closed his eyes for this favour was harder to ask. “I want to thank God for giving me this opportunity to hold her again,” he opened his eyes and looked at the monk. “I know it was God’s will that spared her. It was God’s will and your courage.”
Sampson’s mouth fell open in surprise, and he took a moment to compose himself. “You…you want to pray…to God?”
“Yes,” Merton answered, a blush rising on his face. “It’s just…I don’t know how to. I have never prayed and meant the words before.”
“You are not turning Christian on me over there, are you?” Yrre asked with a mock scowl.
Both Merton and Sampson ignored Yrre’s words.
“It would…nothing would make me happier,” Sampson said, tears shining in his eyes. It was a miracle. The black sheep w
as, at last, returning to the flock. “Shall we…?”
40
Amandine fancied she could smell the sea and with it, a hint of horse and leather — her favourite combination, for such smells reminded her of Merton. He had always smelt of horses and outdoors. Her bed rocked gently beneath her, and her pillow was hard with a strange yet somehow reassuring beat hammering in her ear — almost as if it were a heartbeat she was listening to, but she knew that was impossible. She must still be dreaming.
She moved, rubbing her cheek against the hard pillow. She felt a warm breath against her skin and the softness of lips as they touched her forehead. That kiss felt strangely familiar. Merton used to kiss her on the forehead just like that. Dear God, may she never wake from this dream, for it felt as if Merton was all around her, surrounding her, holding her, loving her. She felt safe, as she always had when she was in Merton’s arms and for a moment she indulged herself in the sensation.
Amandine stretched and wriggled her toes. Somewhere in her unconscious mind, she questioned why she had no shoes on. But she instantly dismissed the question for she did not want to lose this feeling of utopia. She didn’t want to wake up, not yet, not ever.
The weight of the furs was comforting as was the arm that held her, almost possessively. She was dreaming, that was the only explanation for these strange feelings.
“Amandine.”
She heard Merton whispering her name, and she strained to listen. However, Merton’s voice was so very far away that she knew there was no substance to it. It was a fragment of her imagination, nothing more and nothing less.
“Amandine.”
There that voice was again, calling her, encouraging her. And yet, it wasn’t real. Merton was dead, and the only place he lived was in her dreams. And even her dreams would not last forever for she had been sentenced to death.
Death?
Had she confused Merton’s voice with the executioners? Panic replaced the feeling of contentment. If she opened her eyes would she find herself tied to a stake with fire all around her? But there was no smell of smoke, she reasoned with herself. She did not feel like she was fighting the fire for air. She felt no pain from the cruel flames, just a gnawing ache in her stomach that reminded her that she had not eaten in days, and the last whispers of a severe headache.
The Du Lac Princess: (Book 3 of The Du Lac Chronicles) Page 47
