When the interminable dinner finally ended, the diners made haste in different directions. Desiree fled to the women’s quarters. Alex rushed off to the outer bailey and the solace of drilling men who would protect Desiree, since he could not help her in any other way. Father Harold went slowly toward Frewyn’s chamber.
Vachel sat where he was, ignoring the fact he was in the servants’ way, thinking about the bribe for Nicolaus to offer him guest space. Well, he could offer Nicolaus a firsthand description of how Exceat was defended. Vachel fetched his cloak from his room and went out onto the walls, hoping to find a weak spot in that defense, but that hope was in vain.
Damp and irritable, Vachel returned to his seat by the fire. What else could he bring to Nicolaus? Movement caught his eye. Pollock, Frewyn’s servant, hurried across the hall to give a large flagon into Farman’s hands. Vachel drew a sharp breath. Of course, Frewyn’s death.
Nicolaus would be glad to hear that the old man was dead; he blamed Frewyn for interfering with his attempt to force Desiree into marriage. Nicolaus would be grateful for the news that she was free, and it would make him more eager to attack Exceat.
Killing Frewyn would be so easy. He would not need to use poison, which often left telltale signs. A double dose of sleeping draught would send him off. And, Vachel grinned, he would not even need to feel guilty about Frewyn dying unshriven because the priest did that every night before he left the old man, just to be sure.
Vachel nodded to himself. From now on he would carry a packet of hemlock and poppy at all times so that he could drop it into the old man’s cup or food whenever there was an opportunity. He had seen the servant set down a tray of food or a flagon of drink while he opened the door. Vachel smiled thinly. There would soon be a chance.
Alex came in when the light was failing and it was not safe for the men to continue practice. He did not glance toward Vachel, sitting by the fire as usual, but he was aware of him. As he entered the hall, a servant had taken a brand from the fire and run into Alex’s chamber to light the torch. He stood aside as Alex entered and then slipped out, closing the door behind him.
Bile rose in Alex’s throat as he remembered Vachel sitting at his ease, and for a few moments instead of changing his wet clothing he just stood, staring at the torch. Then he swallowed and looked away. He would not think of Vachel pressing his attentions on Desiree. He would not think of Desiree. He would keep his mind firmly on the afternoon’s activities.
He was well satisfied with what he had seen. Unfortunately, knowing that another two or three weeks would be enough teaching for the fisherfolk who could then be sent home to permit more concentration on the other recruits, had very little effect on the tumult raging inside him. He could not, did not, desire Frewyn’s death.
With his approval of all Alex did and his sage advice, Frewyn was a good substitute for Simon, the father of Alex’s heart. Nonetheless, the man’s own words and Father Harold’s showed that Frewyn’s death was near. And if Frewyn died… Alex folded his arms over his chest and rubbed one with the other as a chill from more than the wet wool crawled over him. Desiree would be free.
His face burned at the thought and he pulled the wet tunic over his head, pressing the cold cloth to his cheeks and then, with a gasp of misery, between his thighs.
It did not matter that Desiree would be free to marry again. The Lady of Exceat was far beyond his touch, married or widowed. He could not, must not, ever think of her as a woman to whom he could aspire. He was her castellan, a landless, penniless castellan, nothing more. And it was his castellan’s duty to protect her. With grim determination Alex thought again about the training of the new men.
Alex shed the rest of his wet clothes and slung them over the table for a servant to take to the kitchen for drying. He pulled on chausses and cursed when his fingers went through a hole near the knee. That would need mending but he did not have another dry pair. Which of the women servants should he ask? And then he could feel his face flaming again because it was Desiree who would know that.
He finished dressing then sat on his stool with his head in his hands. Surely Desiree had heard Sir Frewyn ask him to pray to be released by God. If her husband had made the same request to her… No, she would not. Desiree cared for Frewyn, Alex was sure of that, as sure as he was that he loved Sir Frewyn. Yet he could not forget. No. He would not think of it—would not.
Fortunately, Byford called through the door before Alex again began to contemplate the forbidden subjects. Byford? Yes, it was four days since Byford had left Exceat. Time enough with hard riding to reach Roselynde and return.
Alex leapt to his feet, flung open the door, and nearly embraced his master-at-arms in his relief. He did not notice his brother sit up and lean forward intently.
“Safe?” Alex asked.
“Yes, m’lord. No trouble at all, except for nearly drowning. As if the rain weren’t bad enough, all the fords were chock-full. At least Reid kept the pouch dry so all the letters could be read and the men kept the clerk from falling off his horse and drowning.”
“Any message for me?” Alex asked, praying that someone would set him a duty that would keep him busy.
Like an answer to the prayer, Byford said, “Yes, m’lord. There’s a letter from Sir Simon, and another letter from Lady Alinor for Lady Desiree. Lady Alinor asked a lot of questions about Sir Frewyn and she also sent some medicine she thought might be helpful.”
As he spoke, Byford reached into his tunic and pulled out a large packet that had been carefully wrapped in oiled leather. Alex retreated back into his room so he could lay the packet on his table to open it, not bothering to close the door.
He lit the candle on his table from the torch and again blessed Frewyn for insisting he learn to read. He was able to separate Simon’s letter to him from Alinor’s to Desiree without wasting the time to seek out Father Harold. Alex handed Alinor’s letter and the several small wrapped packets to Byford and told him to catch a woman servant and have her carry the letter and medicines to Lady Desiree. Then he was to go and get dry garments.
From his seat by the fire, Vachel stared at the packets in Byford’s hands when the master-at-arms came out into the hall. What if that accursed Alinor’s remedies worked? He must have the news of Frewyn’s death as a passport into Lewes—which meant he must act at once. Then Vachel drew a deep breath and sat up straighter. Not at once, but as soon as Desiree tried one of Alinor’s remedies. That would be a perfect cover if anyone wondered why the old man, who had held on for months, should suddenly die.
Meanwhile, Alex had broken the seal on Simon’s letter and was apparently reading it. Vachel added a new string of obscenities. Now Simon was in Roselynde while he was trapped in Exceat. Restlessly, Vachel rose. There must be a way out.
Delighted to have something that would really hold his attention, Alex sounded out letters into words:
From Simon Lemagne Sheriff of Sussex to Sir Alexandre Baudoin castellan Exceat Keep greetings. If you are well I am well also. I commend you heartily for your quickness of wit in dealing with the men you captured. I received with considerable pleasure Sir Nicolaus’s clerk and letters and I approve heartily of your plans for dealing with his treacherous men-at-arms. I would add to their punishment a traitor’s brand on the back of whichever hand they use for their swords. This is necessary because it will be some months before the earl of Warenne will be able to order Nicolaus out of Lewes and give me permission to drive him out if he does not go. Warenne is one of the treasurers for King Richard’s ransom and is now with the Holy Roman Emperor. It will take time for my letter to Warenne to reach him and his response to reach me. I do not doubt Warenne will order me to rid Lewes of Sir Nicolaus for he is solidly loyal to King Richard—but he is equally solid in the head, so I cannot act without his express permission lest his pride be hurt. As for Nicolaus, he must have arranged for a message to let him know whether the men were accepted or rejected, probably at Exceat. When no message came, he likely r
ealized he had been exposed.
Accustomed now to Simon’s hand, which was firm and clear and had no flourishes, Alex read the rest of the letter more quickly. Sir Simon was clearly pleased at what Byford had told him about Alex’s arrangement with the fisherfolk, he even paid him the compliment of saying Alinor thought the idea so good she intended to follow his lead. Other matters, less immediate, ended the letter.
Alex frowned as he refolded the parchment. They were not his fisherfolk; they were Desiree’s. Her name and a growling stomach made him look out the open door. He saw that his stomach knew the time better than he. The tables had been set up for the evening meal. Alex tucked the letter into the locked box in which he now kept Simon’s silver pennies and went out to sit beside Desiree…only Desiree never came.
Chapter Thirteen
Desiree did not even lift her head when she heard Eadgyth close the door behind her and hurry across the room. The maid meant well, she thought. She must not punish the woman for caring for her, no matter how much she wished to avoid again being urged to join the others for the evening meal, to eat, to divert her mind.
As if she could divert her mind. She thought she had found peace, that there was no sin in loving Alex because she did not love Frewyn less, only differently—and she had always loved Frewyn as a father, not as a man or a husband. Alex had not changed that. Only when she heard Frewyn begging Alex to pray for his death, a terrible pain had seized her.
Not about Alex. Alex was true as good steel; he had refused and there was anguish in his voice and manner. Alex might desire her, but he did not wish for Frewyn’s death. She, depraved as she was, her heart had leapt at Frewyn’s words. New tears ran down the tracks of old and she turned her head away from the maid, who was bending over her. But Eadgyth seized her hand.
“Lady, lady,” Eadgyth cried, pressing into her hand a folded piece of parchment and dropping several packets into her lap. “Byford said this is a letter from Lady Alinor and medicines, medicines to save Sir Frewyn.”
Desiree gasped with pain. Save Frewyn? But that meant… She did not permit herself to finish the thought. She broke the seal on the letter and after she had read the first few lines, blinked her eyes and sighed.
From Alinor Lady of Roselynde to Desiree Lady of Exceat greetings. I have heard from your master-at-arms Byford of the extreme weariness suffered by Sir Frewyn. It may be that I have some remedy for that weariness. Mind, this will not cure your husband. I know of nothing that will cure the weakness and stillness of the body that follows a fit. This I know in my own person and to my sorrow because my beloved grandmother died from a fit after lingering as Sir Frewyn is lingering and you may be sure there was nothing and no one my grandfather did not try to save her. Moreover, I must warn you that there is some danger in long use of the powders I send. If they do increase Sir Frewyn’s vigor, the effect will not last above a few months and may be only to steal some of that life so that in the end death will come sooner. This is not certain, but you must talk it over with your husband and, I think, let him decide. I have sent you four packets, each to be medicine for a week. Give a generous pinch in wine three or four times a day. Below I have writ the receipt for the medicine. If you are lacking some of the ingredients, send a messenger and I will send more medicine or send you the herbs you lack, as you prefer. In other matters, I advise you to consult Sir Alex, who for all his youth has good sense and good will.
Desiree sat staring down at the packets in her lap as if they were live snakes. Dared she even tell Frewyn about them when she knew what evil lurked in her heart? Dared she offer him a little strength when she—she bit her lip and swallowed hard—might be hoping he would die the sooner? Sighing, Desiree sent Eadgyth to bring her evening meal up to her and to tell Alex and Father Harold that she would not join them at the table.
To her surprise, Desiree felt better after she had eaten and she slept well too, better than she had in several nights. If Lady Alinor said she must leave the decision to Frewyn, that must be right. Lady Alinor knew neither her nor Frewyn; she had no idea that Desiree desired Alex. Her opinion must be impartial and based on good will.
Desiree washed and dressed quickly, took Lady Alinor’s letter and one of the packets and hurried down. She was distressed to see that Elias was hesitant to admit her and distressed again to realize that Frewyn was still abed. Desiree felt frightened and then relieved and happy—not because of Frewyn’s weakness but because she was distressed by it. Perhaps she was not such a monster after all.
“Frewyn, my love,” she murmured, coming to the bed and taking his hand although his eyes were closed. “I have received a letter from Lady Alinor of Roselynde. I think it is important that you see what she says.”
Frewyn barely opened his eyes.
“Are you strong enough to read the letter yourself? It would be better if you could. I am afraid that my voice will mark a word or a phrase by my preference…”
“No,” Frewyn whispered. “Fa… Har…”
“Of course. What a fool I am. We would need his counsel anyway.” She turned her head. “Elias, would you bring Father Harold here?”
The priest came back with Elias in such a hurry that Desiree knew he feared Frewyn was dying. When he understood what was needed, he took the letter at once, glanced through it to accustom himself to the writing and spelling, and began to read. His voice, when he read that the medicine would give Frewyn strength, lifted with joy. Then he came to Lady Alinor’s caution and the tone became doubtful and hesitant.
He had barely finished reading those words when Frewyn said, “Yes.”
Father Harold looked troubled. He patted Frewyn’s shoulder, but his eyes were on Desiree. “Lady Alinor is not sure that the medicine will hasten demise.”
Desiree put both hands over her face. “Do not ask me, Father,” she said in a strangled voice.
“It is not wrong to seek strength.” There were tears in the priest’s eyes as he looked down at the flaccid body of his old friend. “It is not deliberate self-slaughter.”
“Yes,” Frewyn said again.
There was a silence during which the priest’s lips moved in prayer and Desiree lifted her head and wiped her eyes. At last, Father Harold smiled.
“One day’s use cannot have dire results,” he said much more briskly. “Lady Alinor speaks of using the medicine for months. If the medicine does not help—and medicines help some and others do not benefit—then we can put it away.”
“Now,” Frewyn whispered.
Desiree and Father Harold exchanged glances, but there was really no sense in putting off the experiment. Desiree sent to the kitchen for a smooth slab of marble used for grinding. She wiped it thoroughly with wine, dried it and then opened a packet onto it. With her eating knife she divided the powder into seven nearly equal low heaps. The end one, she divided into thirds, scraped one third into a goblet and mixed it with wine.
Pollock was standing near, watching with round eyes. When Desiree had mixed the powder thoroughly into the wine, Pollock lifted his master and held him upright in his arms so that he could swallow more easily. Elias held the cup to Frewyn’s lips, but some wine dribbled out of his mouth. Elias wiped his chin tenderly.
“Spoon,” Frewyn whispered.
“He wants you to give him the medicine in a spoon,” Desiree said, blinking back tears. She understood that Frewyn did not want to waste a drop.
When the cup was empty, Elias wiped Frewyn’s face again and Pollock laid him down against his pillows. All of them stood watching him as he lay with closed eyes until Father Harold shook his head and gestured them away. Pollock remained, seated on a stool nearby so he would see any slight movement or hear any whisper.
“No medicine—even one made up by Lady Alinor—acts so quickly.” Father Harold smiled uneasily. “Let us leave Frewyn in peace. I have Mass to say, one in the chapel and then one here for Frewyn.”
Desiree followed the priest into the chapel. Alex was there but she shook her head sharply
when he tried to tell her something. She listened to the Mass with a devoted attention she too seldom gave it and prayed most earnestly for a clean, quiet heart because she dared not pray for anything else.
As she hurried after Father Harold to attend the second Mass, to be held at Frewyn’s bedside, she heard Alex ask Elias if he could speak with Frewyn after Frewyn broke his fast. She knew Elias had refused but whether he had told Alex about trying the new medicine or not, she did not know.
By the time they had finished dinner, which Desiree and Father Harold insisted on eating in Frewyn’s room, there was little doubt that some benefit had been produced by the medicine. Frewyn was more easily able to swallow the broth and minced chicken that made up his meal and he drank the medicine from the cup eagerly. Afterward, he slept, but Desiree thought he was breathing with less effort.
Alex had come to the door twice during the afternoon and Elias had turned him away. As Desiree prepared to leave Frewyn to sleep, she wondered whether she should tell Alex what was going on. But then she thought she would have to explain what Lady Alinor had said about the effect of the medicine and she was terrified of what he might think. So instead of seeking him or sending for him, she went up to the women’s quarters determined not to think about Frewyn or about Alex. She would give her attention to her maids.
Eadgyth met Desiree at the door of the large chamber above the hall that was given over to the work of women. Here they treated and spun flax for linen, carded and spun wool, and here were set the looms on which cloth of both kinds was woven. The looms were placed well away from the fireplace but for the sake of good light on the same wall, which also had two windows. The heavy wooden shutters were drawn back and the cold held somewhat at bay by oiled parchment fastened into wooden frames. Only two candlemarks past noon, there was plenty of light.
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