Candace C. Bowen - A Knight Series 02

by A Knight of Battle

  Only when he could surmise no visible threat did he survey the damage. Blood stained his tunic crimson from the crossbow quarrel piercing his chest.

  Reining his horse around, he raised his sword in the direction of the trees to his left. “Hamon, you spineless coward,” he raged. “Come out and face me like a man.”

  The sound of disturbed brush met Albin’s ears as he scanned the tree line for some sight of the tapster. About to ride into the trees after him, his vision began to blur. His tunic sticking to his skin from the blood flowing from the wound, he let loose with his battle cry before spurring his horse around in the direction of home.

  By the time he reached the inn, he was slumped over his horse struggling to remain conscious.

  Joseph came running from the stables only to draw up short at the sight of him. “I shall fetch help with all haste, Sir Albin.”

  His horse dutifully returned to its stall as Albin heard a commotion from far away. The last thing he saw was the vision of an angel in the form of his wife as she reached up to cradle his face.

  * * *

  “Lift him down gently, William and Merek.” Her heart pounding in fear, Lecie eyed the blood staining Albin’s tunic and horse with a sinking heart. “Joseph, fetch the village leech at once.”

  “Aye, my lady,” Joseph called already darting towards the heart of the village.

  Preceding the two gangly men as they struggled with Albin, Lecie prayed all the way to the door of the inn. “If you cannot manage to lift him above, lay him in the kitchen.”

  “We can manage, my lady,” Merek murmured. “He will be more comfortable in his own bed.”

  Winifred took charge of the situation as soon as they entered the kitchen. “Anne, find Mary. Sir Talan and Mylla took the children on an outing and she knew where they went. They may be in danger, summon them back at once. Betta, fetch water and clean linens to bind the wound.” Speaking to no one in particular, she eyed Lecie’s ashen face. “Has the leech been summoned?”

  “Joseph has gone to fetch him,” Lecie heard her voice and wondered why it sounded so far away. “I should have stopped him from going. I just knew something bad was going to happen. It is why I remained behind to await him.”

  “All will be well, my lady,” Winifred assured her. “You must have faith.”

  “Someone needs to summon the sheriff as well,” Merek spoke as he adjusted his grip on Albin’s legs to lead the way into the common room. “I wager this was no hunting accident.”

  “I shall do it myself as soon as we have Sir Albin settled,” William replied from his place at Albin’s shoulders.

  Wrapping her arm around Lecie’s shoulders to steady her as she swayed, Winifred cleared a path of tables and chairs to the steps.

  The few early patrons consisting mainly of overnight lodgers grew silent as the group slowly passed.

  “Go on up and prepare the bed, Lecie,” Winifred gently urged her to move. “I shall lend assist to the men.”

  “Winifred…” Lecie found she could not voice her fears. Hiking up her skirts, she fled up the steps.

  Completely pulling the coverlet off the bed, Lecie’s hands shook as she adjusted the pillows against the headboard. Stepping aside as the men struggled through the door, tears flooded her eyes as Albin moaned weakly in pain.

  “Gently now,” Winfred directed as the men eased Albin onto the bed. “Try not to drive the quarrel in further.”

  Relieved of their burden they stepped back out of breath.

  “I shall summon the sheriff now.” Dipping his head at Lecie, William hastened from the chamber.

  “Is there aught else you need, Winifred?” Shifting from foot to foot, Merek could not take his eyes from the wicked looking quarrel sticking out of Albin’s chest.

  “Lend assist to Simon,” Winifred absently replied. “With the leech and sheriff on the way, the villagers are bound to follow.”

  “It shall be done.” Casting a worried glance at Lecie, Merek dipped his head on the way out.

  “Lecie, I need shears to cut away his garb.” Perched on the edge of the bed, Winifred slid her hand beneath Albin’s back to see if the quarrel had gone all the way through his body. When Lecie did not respond, Winifred glanced up to find her stricken gaze on the bloodied sheets. “You need to be strong now in order to help your husband.”

  “He cannot afford to lose so much blood,” she murmured in a panic.

  “Lecie,” Winifred snapped. “Get a hold of yourself.”

  Her mind racing at the implications of what she was seeing, Lecie could only nod.

  Fleeing the chamber, she bumped into Betta in the passageway holding a pile of clean linens to use as bandages. “Fetch shears for Winifred, I need to speak to Gunilda.”

  Storming down the hall to Gunilda’s small chamber, Lecie flung the door open so hard it banged against the wall.

  Gunilda shot upright on the bed as Lecie entered only to slam it closed behind her.

  Her hands fisted, Lecie stalked to the bed to hover over the lounging tavern wench. “Where is he?”

  Never having seen Lecie so enraged, Gunilda nervously looked around for an escape route. “Where is who?”

  “You know who,” Lecie came close to screeching as she dragged Gunilda to her by the collar of her stained linen chemise. “Where is your lover, Hamon?”

  Struggling in Lecie’s grip, Gunilda averted her eyes. “How am I supposed to know? You banished him from the inn.”

  “How could you?” Shaking her head, Lecie fought the urge to shake the older woman. “My mother took you in after finding you selling yourself beyond the door of this very inn. She even offered you a respectable job making ale, which you turned down to continue selling yourself. How could you repay her and my father in such a way as this?”

  “Your sainted mother.” Her thin lips curling into a sneer, Gunilda scoffed, “What did she know of hardship?”

  “You ungrateful bitch,” Lecie swore. “She should have left you in the gutter from whence you sprung.”

  “Then who would have tended to your father’s needs when she was too fat with child to see to them?”

  Slapping Gunilda across the face, Lecie’s hand stung. “Mention my parents again and you shall suffer for it.”

  “So you say.” Lightly touching her discolored cheek, Gunilda glared her wrath. “Hamon loves me and when he is master here, we shall see about that.”

  “You fool, Hamon loves no other than himself.” Shoving Gunilda back on the bed, Lecie stood over her. “Know you this, if Albin dies, you will follow on his heels, as will your precious Hamon. The sheriff is on his way and he shall know all.”

  “Your threats mean nothing to me.” Gunilda backed away from the look on Lecie’s face. “Lady or not, Hamon will protect me.”

  “Get out,” Lecie snarled. “If I set eyes on you once more, I shall kill you myself.”

  “What is the ruckus all about?” Rubbing red watery eyes, Harsent stood in the doorway. “You woke me from a sound sleep.”

  “You heard her,” Gunilda whined. “Lecie threatened to kill me.”

  “She is right, I did.” Pushing past Harsent, Lecie turned back. “Assist in removing Gunilda’s things or I shall follow through on my threat.”

  Lecie paused outside the master chamber when she heard footsteps rushing up the steps. Dr. Rayburn acknowledged her with a cursory glance as he swept past her.

  His color an alarming ashen color, Albin lay unmoving on the bed.

  As Dr. Rayburn removed implements from his satchel, Lecie and Betta managed to finish cutting away Albin’s tunic and chainse to expose the wounded area. Dabbing at the blood flow around the quarrel it slowed to trickle.

  “It did not break the skin of his back.” Betta backed away from the bed as Dr. Rayburn approached.

  “If he were a lesser man, he would have fallen dead on the spot.” Dr. Rayburn bent over the quarrel protruding from Albin’s right pectoral muscle. “I cannot see how far it has pen
etrated.”

  “Can you save him?” Brushing the tracks of tears streaming from her eyes, Lecie forced the words out.

  With a non-committal grunt, Dr. Rayburn dug through tools for a set of iron tongs.

  As he moved to grip the end of the quarrel, Lecie stepped forward in alarm. “You are just going to rip it out of him?”

  “Would you have me leave it inside him?” Dr. Rayburn replied impatiently without pause.

  “Wait.” Sliding on the other side of the bed, Lecie held Albin’s limp hand.

  “I would advise against that,” Dr. Rayburn said without inflection. “Of course since you feel you are better at doctoring than I, do what you will.”

  “Thank you, I shall,” Lecie responded unperturbed. “Winifred, please be ready to staunch the flow of blood that is sure to follow.”

  “The blood needs to flow to cleanse the wound.” Dr. Rayburn settled a stern gaze on Lecie. “Had you heeded my advice on such matters before now, your father would still be alive.”

  Ignoring him, Lecie met Winifred’s gaze. “Please be at the ready.”

  Without further preamble, Dr. Rayburn gripped the quarrel with the tongs and yanked it from Albin’s chest.

  Lecie’s cry of pain as Albin clamped down on her hand was lost to his scream of agony.

  Seeing that he had passed out from the pain, Lecie anxiously scanned Albin’s face as she cradled her hand against her chest. “Will he be alright?”

  “So long as the wound does not fester, he may yet live.” Dr. Rayburn shrugged buckling his satchel.

  “Is there aught else you can do for him?” Lecie humbled herself to add, “Please, I beg of you.”

  “As I said, allow the blood to flow to cleanse the wound,” Dr. Rayburn replied on his way out.

  Lecie ran a hand along Albin’s brow to ease his strained features. “Winifred, mayhap he is right.”

  “Begging your pardon, Lecie, I would tend to disagree with his advice.” Pressing a linen cloth to the wound, Winifred lifted the edge to check the wound. “Sir Albin has lost too much blood as it is.”

  “You are right, of course,” Lecie acknowledged close to tears. “I am not thinking clearly. Surely there is something else we can do for him.”

  A commotion sounded on the steps followed by Talan bursting into the room ahead of Leofrick, Edmund and Sheriff Richard.

  One look at Albin’s deathly pallor had Talan’s jaw clenching. “We were returning Mylla home when William arrived. What happened?”

  “It was Hamon,” Lecie responded. “I know it was. He must have ambushed Albin on his return from the tower.”

  “Did Albin confirm this?” Spotting the quarrel on the dresser, Talan picked it up.

  “He has not spoken at all,” Lecie managed. “I demanded Gunilda tell me where Hamon is, yet she refused me.”

  “We cannot accuse Hamon until we have questioned him, or Sir Albin can verify it was he,” Sheriff Richard spoke. Addressing his sons, he added, “See if you can find him.”

  “Aye,” Leofrick agreed with a last look at Albin. “We will not rest until we do.”

  “Hamon is known to every villager in Rochester, Lecie.” The sheriff picked up the conversation. “He may have offended you by overstepping his bounds, yet that does not make a murderer of him.”

  “Attempted murderer,” Lecie corrected. “My husband will not die.”

  “Be that as it may,” the sheriff replied impatiently. “At the present time we cannot even rule out it being a hunting accident.”

  “Hamon threatened me, Sheriff,” Lecie spoke with resolve. “I know it is him.”

  “In what way did he threaten you?” Crossing his arms, the sheriff prepared himself for a lengthy explanation.

  Put off by his brusqueness, Lecie mimicked his move. “He made threats against the children in order to gain my acceptance of his guardianship over Clayton.”

  “If that is true, why did you not bring this to my attention before now?”

  “Short of staying by the children’s side indefinitely or locking up Hamon on my word alone, what could you have done?”

  “So you never held any affection for Hamon?”

  “Of course not,” Lecie snapped. “I loathe the very sight of the man.”

  “I am glad to hear it,” Sheriff Richard approved. “Neither your father or mother would have been pleased by the match.”

  “Sheriff,” Lecie replied in exasperation. “Do you hear yourself?”

  “Forgive me. I look upon you as a daughter and only want what is best for you.” Taking the quarrel removed from Albin into evidence, he turned to go. “Send word if Hamon returns. If he did have something to do with it, we shall find out.”

  After the sheriff left, Lecie knelt beside the bed to take Albin’s hand. “He cannot die.” She met Talan’s gaze with brimming eyes. “He cannot.”

  “If anyone can help him now, her ladyship Reina can. She is skilled with medicine.” Taking a long look at Albin, he added, “I shall ride to Castell Maen and return with her.”

  “Do you really think she will come?”

  “Aye, she will come.” Talan replied without pause. “She would come for anyone in need. Will you be all right here unguarded until we return?”

  “We shall make do, even if I have to close and bar the inn to outsiders.”

  “Do you your best to care for him until I return.” Clasping Albin’s forearm, Talan briefly bent his head in prayer.

  “Please hurry,” Lecie implored. “I shall do enough praying for the lot of us once you depart.”

  “We shall do everything we can for him until you return, Sir Talan,” Winifred made her presence known when Lecie broke into soft sobs.

  FOURTEEN

  They sat vigil for what remained of the day. The hour grew late by the time Lecie finally convinced Winifred to seek her rest.

  “You must rest yourself, as well.” Rising from a chair beside the bed, Winifred frowned. “At the very least, you must eat something to keep up your strength.”

  “I shall eat a bite later,” Lecie absently replied. Perched against the headboard, she kept her gaze on Albin, searching for any signs of improvement.

  “You have been saying that these hours past. I shall fix you something before turning in.”

  “He seems to be resting easier, do not you think?”

  “Did you hear what I said, Lecie?”

  “You said I need to rest.”

  “No, I did not.” Winifred moved to wrap her arm around Lecie’s shoulders. “I told you I am fixing you something to eat.”

  “Thank you,” Lecie murmured.

  “You do realize Sir Albin would not approve of you worrying yourself so.”

  “I love him.” Tears fell unchecked down Lecie’s cheeks. “More than I ever believed possible.”

  “And he loves you.”

  “Aye, he has said as much.” Lecie looked up at Winifred. “I did not tell him I loved him in return, and now it may be too late.”

  “It is never too late to tell someone of your love for them. God willing, you shall have many opportunities.”

  “Do you really think so?”

  “With all of my heart.” Gently squeezing Lecie’s shoulder, Winifred stepped back. “I shall return shortly with a late supper.”

  Left alone with Albin, tears splashed on the back of Lecie’s hands. “Please my love, do not leave me.” Curling on her side against him, she lifted his hand to her cheek. “I could not bear it.”

  Tugger came bounding into the room followed by Winifred a short time later. Drying her eyes, Lecie sat up to order the dog from the room.

  Whining low, Tugger nudged Albin’s foot where it hung over the edge of the bed. His soulful brown eyes shifted briefly to Lecie as if waiting for an explanation.

  “Very well,” she conceded. “You may stay.” Reaching to pat Tugger’s velvety brown head, she smiled. “I will not even tell your young master of your change in allegiance.”

  With
a soft whine, Tugger settled himself beside the kindled hearth to lay his head on his front paws.

  “I brought you some salted pork, bread and cider,” Winifred broke into Lecie’s troubled thoughts. “When I collect the tray in the morning, I expect it to be empty.”

  “You sound like my mother,” Lecie responded with a sad smile. “I do not know what I would have done without you this day. Go seek your rest.”

  “I would have you follow your own request, Lecie,” Winifred replied as she left. “Summon me should you have a need.”

  Her throat dry, Lecie rose to take a long swallow of cider. Picking up the pork and bread, she tossed it to Tugger. “Guard him well and I shall reward you thrice over.”

  Resuming her place beside Albin, she draped her arm across his torso and fell into an exhausted uneasy slumber.

  Lecie was startled awake when she heard Tugger’s low warning growl. Sitting up, she spotted the dog in the dim light pacing by the window with his hackles raised.

  “What is it, Tugger?” Slipping from the bed, she led him to the door.

  Twisting the latch, she pulled it open as Tugger darted into the darkness of the passageway. She heard him bounding down the steps and his claws scramble for purchase on the flooring in the empty common room as she hastened after him.

  The dog was scratching and howling at the back door as she hurried to open it for him. Tugger charged into the darkness headed towards the thick copse of trees behind the stables as she drew to a winded halt in the garden.

  “I know it is you, Hamon.” Scanning the tree line for some sign of movement, her shout broke the predawn silence. “I shall be better prepared for you next time.”

  Sticking two fingers into her mouth like her Da had shown her, a piercing whistle rent the air. Tugger barked in response as he came bounding back out of the darkness.

  His tail wagging, he stopped panting beside her as she bent down to scratch behind his ears. “The next three rabbits you catch are all yours.”

  Rising, she glanced into the darkness with narrowed eyes.

  * * *