Word of Honor (Knights of Valor Book 1)

by Lauren Linwood

  But Merryn found herself dismayed to learn that Sir Symond Benedict would champion the Plantagenet name for Edward. She had caught a few glimpses of him but had yet to speak to him. If they came to face one another, she would have no words to say. For a moment, she wondered how different her life might be if Geoffrey hadn’t returned. Instead of celebrating the nuptial mass of Hardi and Johamma, ‘twould have been her own whilst the king looked on.

  She raised a silent prayer to God Almighty, thanking Him for bringing her husband back to her.

  Then she turned to Johamma, sitting on her left. The young girl wore a wide smile as she watched the men in action.

  “I am sorry you had to return to Winterbourne last night after the feast. Normally, I would have offered you our solar, but with the king in residence there and every other chamber in the keep taken, I appreciate you retiring to your new home.”

  “’Twas no problem at all, Lady Merryn. We are most grateful for not only a lovely wedding but for the magnificent feast you provided. Everything from venison and mutton to starlings and chickens. And all of the sweets. My teeth fairly ache today thinking of all that I consumed.”

  Merryn laughed and leaned closer. “Not nearly as much as the king did.”

  Johamma said, “My husband thought your mead the best he’s ever tasted.” She bit her lip, looking unsure of herself. “He hoped you might share your recipe with me for when we entertain at Winterbourne.”

  “’Tis all in the ginger,” Merryn revealed. “Many people add too much or not enough. Each gallon should have but a half-ounce. And ‘tis truly important to seal and store the brew for no less than six months. You can’t be too eager to sample it.”

  She placed her hand atop Johamma’s. “I shall teach you how to make it myself.”

  The younger women smiled. “You are most generous, my lady.”

  “Do I hear talk of mead?”

  Merryn turned to her right and saw that Edward munched upon gundy.

  “And ‘tis the candy to your liking, sire? I make it with black treacle and seasoned it with a bit of cinnamon.”

  “You made this?” He thought a moment. “Mayhap Lord Geoffrey should not be guarding your cook after all. Mayhap he should be guarding you!” Edward tossed back his head and laughed heartily.

  The queen, on her husband’s right, gave her a sweet smile. Merryn knew the feeling. If Geoffrey ‘twere happy, then all seemed right in her world.

  They sat through dozens of matches, with only four men being slightly injured. Merryn explained to Johamma, who was witnessing her first joust, that the contest was a replication of a cavalry charge, with each knight riding briskly toward his opponent, hoping his lance would unseat the other man. Merryn was sorry to see both Hugh and Raynor eliminated after several rounds of the competition, but two knights from Kinwick made it to the final eight men before going down in defeat to Geoffrey and Symond.

  Now all that remained in the contest were four men. Symond would face Geoffrey, followed by Hardi against Alard, one of Edward’s guard who’d been responsible for both Hugh and Raynor’s losses.

  Merryn moved to the edge of her chair as Geoffrey made ready to her left and Symond to her right. Each time Geoffrey rode, her nerves were raw, yet he had claimed victory each time. She spied Hobard, the royal physician, arriving on the field, having finished treating the last injury from two bouts prior. Then each man lowered his helm, which protected their head and face. Both gripped a lance in their hands. They awaited the signal to ride forward.

  Merryn held her breath as they reached one another. She saw Geoffrey’s lance make contact on this first pass, jamming hard into Symond’s chest, sending him soaring into the air. Though sorry for Symond, she boldly cheered for her husband, even whistling loud as any man.

  “My lady seems quite excited at her husband’s victory over my champion,” Edward wryly noted. “And where did you learn to use your fingers to whistle in such an unladylike manner?”

  She felt the blush stain her cheeks. “My brother, sire. Hugh taught me to do so when I was but a girl. For a good month, I drove my parents near the brink of madness.”

  The king patted her hand. “Mayhap you shall teach me this amusing skill.”

  “I am sorry your champion was unseated,” she said, demurely folding her hands in her lap.

  His eyes twinkled. “Are you truly, my lady?”

  Merryn grinned unabashedly. “Not in the least bit, sire,” she confided. She waved at Geoffrey, who yanked off his helm and returned the wave. She watched Symond come to his feet and remove himself from the field. It angered her when Geoffrey went to the knight and offered him a hand. Symond shrugged it off and strode away.

  That one gesture made her feel Symond Benedict was not anywhere near the caliber of her husband, who was a gentleman through and through. She sat back in her chair to await the next match, doubly glad that Symond Benedict had lost.

  Hardi easily unseated Sir Alard on the third pass. Johamma stood and merrily waved a handkerchief at her new husband, who rode up to her and snatched it from her fingers. His laughter could be heard as his horse galloped away.

  “I had no idea Hardi was such a good rider, much less so talented at the joust,” Johamma disclosed.

  “You will learn a great deal about your new husband,” Merryn guaranteed. “And you will have a lifetime in which to discover it.”

  After a few minutes of rest, Geoffrey and Hardi moved to opposite ends of the field and readied themselves for the final contest. Merryn said a quick prayer, hoping Geoffrey would remain safe. Johamma clutched her hand tightly as the men spurred their horses on at breakneck speed.

  Geoffrey thrust his lance forward so fast as the two men drew side by side that it seemed a blur to Merryn. Despite the noise from the horses’ hooves, she heard the lance make contact.

  Hardi flew from his horse. He hit the ground with a loud thud, his horse galloping on without him. Johamma screamed and flung herself from her seat, rushing to her new husband. Merryn followed on her heels. Geoffrey pulled on his horse’s reins and circled back around.

  Johamma flung her body atop Hardi’s, sobbing loudly as he remained still, as if in death. Geoffrey leapt from his horse and pulled her aside so the court physician could get closer to examine him. The man removed the helm. Hardi’s eyes stayed closed.

  “Help me to get this mail from him,” the physician ordered. Geoffrey handed Johamma off to Merryn, who drew her arms about the young girl protectively. Several knights came and aided Geoffrey in removing the chain mail from the unconscious earl. When they did, all could see the pool of blood darkening Hardi’s cote-hardie.

  Geoffrey rose, a dazed look on his face, and moved away from the group. Merryn released Johamma and ran after him.

  She reached him as he yanked off his helm and slammed it to the ground.

  “God’s teeth!” he roared. “I’ve gone and killed another one of Berold’s sons.”

  CHAPTER 30

  Merryn stepped quickly into action, ordering a large banner to be placed on the ground. She instructed several knights to lift Hardi onto it and use the banner to support and carry him inside the castle to the solar. The men did her bidding, trotting quickly behind her. The physician followed them. Johamma brought up the rear of the procession, her anguished sobs the only sound in the meadow.

  Tilda appeared at her arm as they came to the open gates of the castle.

  “What might ye need, my lady?”

  “Bring my bag,” she ordered. “And have hot water boiled and some eggs sent to the solar at once.”

  Tilda scurried off, the fastest Merryn had seen the servant move in years.

  She motioned for the soldiers to continue along with her. Within minutes, the young earl rested atop the bed in the solar.

  Hobard, who carried his own bag of medicines and tools, ordered the men from the room.

  “We must remove his clothing. I would see what ‘tis the cause of the bleeding.”

  Merr
yn’s fingers worked quickly. Between the two of them, and the dagger the court doctor claimed from his bag, they doffed what Hardi wore and tossed it aside to the floor.

  Johamma knelt down and lifted pieces of the clothing to her face and wept into them.

  Merryn’s eyes met the physician’s. She nodded to him. He reached into his bag and rummaged around till he found what he needed.

  He moved to Johamma. “My lady,” he said gently, taking her elbow and having her rise to her feet, “I know you are most distraught. I should ask you to drink what I give you.”

  He held up a vial with an amber liquid inside.

  “This will calm you. I would like you to lie down and rest. You shall need to be at your strongest for when your new husband awakens.”

  Johamma nodded dully. She dutifully took the vial and downed its contents, making a face as she swallowed.

  Merryn spied Tilda lurking near the doorway and waved her over. “Take Lady Johamma to Lady Elia’s room. Have Lady Elia stay with her.”

  Tilda nodded and took the crying noblewoman in hand, leading her from the room like a lost child.

  Hobard examined Hardi’s wound. Merryn decided that Geoffrey’s lance must have found a gap in the earl’s chain mail. Though the tip of the lance had been blunted, the force from the speed of the horses had driven it deep, puncturing the skin. The physician’s fingers manipulated the tear.

  “’Tis a few ribs broken,” he noted. “And the bruising will soon follow. But I must stitch the skin closed. We shall need linen to bind his ribcage and keep it intact.”

  Servants brought the requested hot water at that point, and Merryn asked for clean linen to be sent up immediately. She and the doctor cleaned both their hands and bathed Hardi’s wound in a mixture of hot water and wine.

  “What I’m most concerned with is his head,” Merryn said. “Since he has not come to, I fear he hit it hard when he fell from his horse.”

  Hobard threaded his needle and began sewing up the gap.

  “I agree, my lady. Check his head while I repair his skin.”

  Merryn ran her fingers lightly along Hardi’s scalp. She turned his head to one side and then the other. She lifted it from the pillow and moved her hands along the back of the skull till she located a huge bump. Relief washed through her when she saw no hole, only a lump swelling the size of a hen’s egg.

  “’Tis a huge knot which has formed near the top of his head in the rear,” she told the doctor. “No wound, though. You will not have to trepan.”

  “’Tis the best news possible in this situation. I loathe boring into a head wound.” He sighed. “Bathe the area in hot water. I shall view it in a moment.”

  Once Hardi’s wound had been stitched, Merryn searched her own bag of herbs and medicines. She located the jar she needed and set it aside on the bed. She cracked open two of the eggs she’d requested and used a pewter cup to separate the yolks from the whites before she rubbed the egg whites over the stiches as a soothing balm.

  She softly chanted, “In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Mary. The wound was red, the cut deep, the flesh be sore, but there will be no more blood or pain till the blessed Virgin bears a child again.”

  After the egg whites dried, she reached for the jar. Opening it, she rubbed the salve over and around the wound.

  “So you are a healer? You make your own balms?”

  “Aye. I pick and grind my own herbs and turn them into pastes, salves, and draughts. I grew up at Wellbury, the estate to the south of Kinwick. Our healer Sephare taught me all she knew. I have continued my learning here at Kinwick.”

  The physician nodded his approval. “Help me to raise him. We’ll wrap the linen about him, as much to protect the wound as his ribs. Good. A little tighter. That will do.”

  They eased Hardi back onto the pillows.

  “He should remain unconscious a bit longer. I hope not more than an hour or two. Once he awakens, we must ascertain if he knows who he is and what happened to him.”

  “And he should not sleep for a long stretch of time?”

  “That is correct. Someone should awaken him at regular intervals to question him and see if his answers make sense.”

  “I will stay with him,” a deep voice called out.

  Merryn turned and saw that Geoffrey had slipped into the chamber. He crossed to where they stood next to the bed.

  “How is he?”

  Hobard frowned. “As good as can be expected. A few broken ribs which will irritate him like the Devil Himself. I stitched his wound, and that will easily hold. ‘Twill only cause him to want to scratch as it heals.”

  “And the head wound?”

  “Not too serious,” the physician replied. “At this point. That is why once he regains consciousness, he must be awakened periodically over the next day or two.”

  “Lady Merryn and I shall see to it,” Geoffrey declared. “We shall not leave his side.”

  Hobard gathered his things. “Then I shall leave the young earl in your capable hands and return to the king.”

  “The king!” Merryn exclaimed. “I had quite forgotten about him and the queen.”

  “The king is not one for being around the injured or those who are ill,” Hobard informed them. “He has always been quite superstitious about such matters, as if being in proximity of someone abed will cause him to do the same. Since we are to leave on the morrow, he will be eager to be off to the next stop on the royal progress.”

  The door opened at that moment, and Edward himself entered the solar, surprising them all.

  “How is young Winterbourne?” he asked, glancing over at the bed and then back to his royal physician. True concern showed upon his face.

  Hobard filled the king in on the earl’s prognosis.

  “Good, good,” Edward said briskly. “I feel we must move on, Lady Merryn, so you can care for your patient. I shall have mine and the queen’s things packed so we can continue on our way. We shall leave within the hour.” He took her hand and kissed it. “My thanks to you. As always, your hospitality and graciousness make me feel as if I were not a guest but in my own home.”

  Edward turned to Geoffrey. “And ‘twas good finally meeting you, Lord Geoffrey. Though I did not have a chance to discuss that particular matter with young Winterbourne here, I shall do so in the near future, once he is fully recovered. Rest assured, the matter will be taken care of.”

  “Thank you, sire.”

  “Hobard, I shall leave you here for a few days with two of my guard. Watch over this young nobleman carefully. When he is well on the road to recovery, you may rendezvous with us under the guard’s escort.”

  Without a backward glance, the king turned swiftly and exited the solar.

  ***

  Merryn and Geoffrey stayed with Hardi constantly, with Johamma and Hobard lending support.

  The first time Hardi’s eyes opened, he groaned in pain. Merryn explained to him what had occurred and that he would be up and about in no time. Hardi asked for water, which she gave to him, before she asked him a few questions. She had him name his wife and the title he held. She asked where he lived and then where Winterbourne was located. Satisfied with his responses, she allowed him to return to sleep.

  She and Geoffrey sat by Hardi’s bedside, holding hands, no words between them. She knew guilt weighed upon Geoffrey for causing Hardi’s injuries, but it was an expected part of a tournament. Especially in jousting.

  What made her most uncomfortable, though, was that the two men the king left behind were Alard, who was friendly and agreeable, and Symond. He spoke not at all, just stood near the doorway in the shadows, observing them at all times. She believed much of Geoffrey’s silence to be due to Symond’s presence. She was eager to learn what matter the king spoke of regarding Hardi and how her husband was involved. She tamped down her curiosity and decided it could wait until they had privacy.

  The remainder of that first day Hardi made little improvement, but he could answer their questions
after a moment of thought. Hobard told them that was a good sign. By the second day, the earl ate some broth and a bit of bread, and his responses were both clear and quick.

  “He will make a full recovery,” Hobard assured those gathered at the bedside as Hardi lay sleeping. “He can return home in a day or two and allow his pretty little wife to fuss over him.”

  Merryn saw Johamma blush at the comment.

  “I shall leave on the morrow and return to my duties for the king.” Hobard motioned Alard forward. “Make plans for us to leave after we break our fast.”

  The knight nodded and exited the room.

  “Lady Johamma, you haven’t eaten much at all,” the physician admonished the young bride. “Mayhap you would accompany me to the Great Hall so we can dine. I cannot have you collapsing when your husband will need you to be strong in order to nurse him back to full health.”

  “I shall accompany you,” Geoffrey added. He looked at Merryn. “Once our guests are fed, I will bring up a tray for us to dine upon together if you will stay with Lord Winterbourne.”

  “Of course,” she replied. “Take your time.”

  As the others exited the room, Merryn drew a chair close to the bed and sat next to the patient. She glanced at the burning candle beside her, as she had used it to measure when she needed to awaken Hardi.

  Since it was again time, she leaned over to touch his shoulder. Before she could, his eyes opened.

  “Ale,” he whispered.

  She poured some of the watered-down ale from a carafe and helped him sit up to drink it. Some dribbled down his chin, and he wiped it away with his sleeve. The gesture reminded her of Ancel.

  Hardi fell back into the pillows with a sigh. “So ‘tis only you and me, my lady?” he asked.

  “Aye. Do you need me to retrieve Johamma? Or the physician?”

  “Nay. I have a great need to speak only with you.”

  Merryn tilted her head, puzzled at his words. What could Hardi want to discuss with her?