Bound to the Warrior (Love Inspired Historical)

by Barbara Phinney

  “Aye. I must thank the midwife for them.”

  A shadow settled on Adrien’s expression as they walked, and she stopped him. “What’s wrong?”

  “’Tis nothing.” He took her elbow. “Let’s break our fast.”

  * * *

  After a pause, Ediva nodded. But Adrien knew she’d guessed his thoughts. She had used herbs to ease the pain. Even the thought of such being necessary ate like vinegar in his stomach.

  ’Twas not the fact she needed them for pain or to sleep, but that the midwife also had herbs that could kill.

  And Ediva had been very ill.

  His attention snapped back to his wife. Ediva found it hard even to manage the few steps up to the keep. She smiled shakily at him, pulling him from his other concerns. “My legs are as weak as a newborn foal’s,” she puffed out.

  Adrien slipped his arms around her back and legs and swept her up. She grabbed his tunic tightly, but he smiled. “Never fear. I won’t drop you.”

  He carried her into the hall. There, they ate a simple meal of broth, bread and cheese. Nothing spicy, just as he’d ordered. After the meal, he ordered her to do no work and employ her staff for everything.

  With a nod, she said she would sort through the baby clothes she’d brought from the village, and he left her with her maid as they began the task.

  That evening, Adrien returned early to carry her up to her room. He ordered her maid to help prepare her mistress for bed. “’Twill take several days to regain your strength, Ediva. We’ll talk in the morning.”

  She sat askew on her bed, her big blue eyes full of shock at the gentle handling. She was so beautiful. Her expression still of vulnerable uncertainty, she parted her lips and blinked. He gave into the urge coursing through him. He bent to kiss her.

  Their lips had barely touched when Adrien was swept away in a torrent of emotion. He gripped her. He wanted to be her husband, fully, as God intended, but until she released her anger, she’d never be able to accept any love.

  He must be patient. He forcedly lifted his head from his short but firm kiss. They looked at each other for a lingering moment. Did he see a tiny spark of trust in her? Or was it something his hopeful heart conjured up?

  He stood, refusing to speculate. He needed more soothing thoughts to occupy his frayed mind. Quickly, he took his leave, forcing his mind onto more unsettling concerns.

  He needed to get to Colchester. He needed to talk to Eudo face to face. If Eudo had taken the money, Adrien would see it in his eyes.

  But to leave Ediva now? Nay, when she was stronger.

  He began to walk away only to hear the solar door open.

  Turning, he found Ediva’s maid gently closing the door and hurrying up to him.

  “Milord? May I speak with you? Away from the keep’s ears?”

  He hadn’t heard the expression before, but he understood it. Keeps had enough people and everyone heard the other’s business. “The parapet, then?”

  The young girl nodded and led the way to the top. Adrien dismissed the guard he’d set there as sentry should the rebellious forces from the north descend.

  The maid began again. “’Tis about Lady Ediva.”

  He stiffened. “What of her?”

  “Milady wasn’t sick from the fever.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I helped Milady care for her mother and her mother-in-law. Their fevers were much different.”

  “How so?”

  The young woman struggled to find the right words, and worry creased her face. “They did not vomit. Their fevers were higher and their lips went blue. They coughed a lot, too. Lady Ediva was sick with something far different. When I went to the midwife, she gave me herbs that were not the ones she gave Milady’s mother and mother-in-law. If we didn’t give her the herbs, she’d die, the midwife said. I can’t help but wonder if she knew Milady had something different. But she is very good with herbs, so mayhap not.”

  Adrien furrowed his brow. Margaret’s expression was etched with concern as she grabbed his arm. She rarely spoke to him and ’twas always with reserve and had never touched him, but at this moment, her actions burst with urgency.

  “Milord, you must take care of Lady Ediva! I have served her for years and seen all she’s dealt with. She stayed with Lord Ganute to stop him from turning on me or the other maids. She sacrificed herself for us.”

  His blood ran cold. He knew in his head the reasons she’d stayed with the man, but to have it spoken from her maid’s lips was like dunking his heart into a pond crusted with ice.

  “She doesn’t deserve to die a frightful death, and such would have happened if we hadn’t caught that illness in time. Please let her not come to harm!”

  “I cannot stop a fever.”

  “Nay, none of us can.” She shot a swift look around her, as if fearing the keep itself could hear her. Then she pinned him with a look so sharp he nearly felt its prick. “But we can stop other things from hurting her.”

  He squeezed her hand, understanding the words she didn’t dare speak, though all the while it seemed his heart would pound right through his chest. “I promise,” he whispered. “Return to her, lest she get suspicious, whilst I do the protecting.”

  She nodded and released his arm. As she bustled away, he clenched his jaw. He’d been part of several royal households. Too many kings and dukes and even babes who would one day reign had succumbed to such illness as the one Margaret had just mentioned.

  Ediva had been poisoned.

  * * *

  Adrien strode outside, determined to ask Geoffrey if his mother kept a record of the herbs she administered. Or mayhap, because Geoffrey visited his mother each evening, she’d commented that her more dangerous herbs had gone missing. She was, after all, the only one in the village growing plants that could easily kill. The rest used every scrap of viable land to grow vegetables for personal use, as was their need.

  But reaching the center of the bailey, where many soldiers were enjoying the early evening, Adrien could hear the thundering of hooves down the road that led to the west. He folded his arms to await the visitor.

  His sergeant was returning from delivering the message to Ediva’s sister, requesting a suitable wife for Geoffrey. The sergeant, Kenneth, dismounted. After handing over the reins to Rypan, he reported to Adrien. “Milord,” he began. “I have a letter for Lady Ediva from her sister.”

  He held out his hand and the man set the folded parchment in his palm. “Your journey was good? Any news from the west?”

  “Our Duchess Matilda arrived from Normandy and was made queen on Whitsunday. The people of the north are gathering, daring the king to come. King William left for Nottingham and plans to move toward York. Much of the English nobility has fled to Scotland. There is talk of plunder by the king’s army, also.”

  Adrien grimaced. Plunder wasn’t honorable. He would prefer to disarm the enemies—not lay waste to the land and hurt the innocent. But if the king willed it, there was little he could do. And what else would the king will? Would he rally his carefully placed soldiers for another battle?

  If the king was planning to march north, he’d need soldiers and knights, like he and Eudo. Eudo may be a steward, but he also was capable in battle.

  All the more imperative that he speak with his brother soon. The sooner this issue of money was settled, the better. The keep also needed its men back and plans for more battles would delay the building of Colchester’s castle, anyway.

  And with his suspicions of Ediva being poisoned, mayhap the return of the men would placate whoever had tried the foul deed.

  “You’ve done well, Sergeant. I may leave you here in charge of the soldiers whilst I go to Colchester to consult with my brother.” He dismissed the soldier and returned to the keep.

  ’Twas the next day before he was able to give Ediva the letter from her sister. She read it and nodded. “My sister knows of a suitable woman for Geoffrey. But ’tis hardly the time to send for her. Mayhap, by
summer’s end we’ll suggest it, after the harvest and the work has slowed.”

  Adrien stood by the open window. “A good idea.”

  “My sister warns of more skirmishes and battles. She’s heard that one of King Harold’s sons has returned from Ireland to claim the crown.” She looked up from the table where she was sitting. “The forces in the north will fight hard for freedom, too. William may not win.”

  “He will.” Adrien turned to study his wife, his expression sober. She sat now at the table, still in the veil she’d chosen for the day. Her blond braids fell to her waist like cords of gold. She looked nearly restored to full health. Last night’s sleep had been beneficial.

  His heart swelled and he thanked God that she was better. He hadn’t realized the strength of his devotion to her until Margaret had warned him of the poison.

  “I must go see my brother,” he blurted out.

  Her mouth fell open. “Why?”

  “I need to consult with him on various matters. First, we need to know the amount of money he took. We’re allowed to keep a portion to feed the men staying here.”

  “I would think you would go to recoup the losses, not ask him.”

  Adrien’s mouth tightened. “I’ll get the truth, Ediva, but I won’t demand anything from my brother without asking for his story first.”

  “And if he admits to taking the money with only mischief in mind?

  “I will take it back.”

  “Do you promise to take some back if the king ordered it?”

  Adrien didn’t answer right away. He wanted to obey the king’s decrees, but the people would starve this winter without help, for with the men gone, half the harvest would rot in the fields. Ediva had not only wormed her way under his skin, but so had her people, the children especially, who were to work the lands with their mothers, but chose to play instead, to his secret delight. The women, like the quiet Wynnth, and the servants, who he hoped had seen the fairness in him, had begun to mean something to him.

  “I’ll do what’s right,” he finally said.

  “And the other reasons you must leave?”

  “We need the tenants back. With talk of more battles, the castle won’t be built this year. I see no reason for Eudo to keep our men.”

  Ediva stiffened. He knew he’d sparked an urge to emphasize her point. But to his shock, she merely said, “Be careful. I’ve lost one husband. I have no desire to bury another one.”

  “You will not bury me,” he ground out before sighing. “I will leave on the morrow. My sergeant will take care of the men in my absence. And I will return.”

  Ediva bit her lip. Across the room, he stood stock-still, keeping his arms folded and his knees locked to stop him from closing the distance and hauling her into his arms. She’d lost weight while he’d been gone before and this illness had caused shadows under her eyes, adding to her vulnerability. If someone had really poisoned her, she needed protecting now more than ever.

  To prevent that, he’d already ordered the kitchen to give her only the blandest of food, without herbs, under Margaret and the cook’s careful supervision. Only plain bread with butter. Eggs would be hardboiled and still in their shells, and there would be no herb tea unless Margaret prepared it herself. He doubted it would cause any suspicion. ’Twas a believable story that her stomach wouldn’t be able to take spicy food.

  As their gazes locked, all ferocity drained from him. “I’ll return as fast as I can, Ediva.”

  She walked over to the window and looked up at him. “Promise?”

  He could smell the faint scent she wore, she was that close. “Aye. Promise me that you’ll follow the orders I’ve left with the kitchen. And not work.”

  “Of course. I doubt my legs will allow me to work hard. And I fear my stomach will refuse fine foods. Besides I have no desire to have special food prepared for me alone whilst the servants get pottage every day. They rely on me.”

  “But they must learn to trust me. And you can set the example.” He tightened his jaw. “Ediva, you can take care of your people well whilst still trusting me. You know that by now, surely?”

  She studied his expression with great intent. And slowly, she wet her lips. Her eyes filled with tears. “Aye. I know that.”

  Their gazes lingered on each other and Adrien found himself holding his breath. A small frown furrowed her brow as she leaned closer to him. “Is there more you need to tell me?”

  His arms tightened in their fold. “Nay.” ’Twould not be wise to suggest that someone had poisoned her. ’Twould break her heart to suspect her staff, but who else could it be? He’d have torn apart the kitchens if he thougth it would reveal the poisoner, but he knew that it was best he stay silent and not make the cur suspicious.

  Again, he didn’t want to leave. A part of him screamed not to, but he kept it in check. ’Twas necessary to speak with Eudo and he’d only be gone a few days, returning before the next Sabbath.

  And to make sure his body knew that, he leaned forward and pulled her close. Their lips met in a sound kiss that sealed his promise to return.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Adrien left early the next morn. After exiting the bailey, he stopped and turned his mount. He had to look upward. As his courser stomped restlessly, he found what his eyes sought.

  On the parapet, Ediva lifted her hand to him. His heart leapt as he saluted her back. Then, tapping his mount, he urged the horse to a gallop.

  The ride to Colchester, thankfully, was quiet and uneventful. He stopped only to water and rest the horse and eat the small meal Ediva had ordered for him, then set off again. He reached Colchester by late afternoon.

  Adrien entered the town by the main gate, a young soldier snapping to attention as he trotted in. The town’s wall was formidable, with more masonry work added recently than in the centuries since the Romans left.

  He followed the main street that rode atop a slight ridge. Halfway along, he spied his brother standing near a large Saxon church. Beside him lay a pile of rubble.

  “Hello, Prado,” his brother called when Adrien rode into earshot. Adrien shook his head. Mayhap Eudo had been provoking him by taking the money. Was he still not doing so with that awful baby name? Once the pleasantries were complete, Adrien dismounted and looked around. “I don’t see my men.”

  “They’re up the street at the castle site. I came here to Runwald’s Chapel to assess this rubble’s worth. Do you know there is simply no natural stone here?”

  “’Tis a flat area near the sea. Did you expect any? And you’re still planning to build the castle?”

  “The foundation’s there and ’tis the king’s will. Why not?”

  Adrien looked around. “Because of the threat from the north. Have you not heard?”

  “Aye, but William hasn’t summoned me or my men yet.”

  “My men, Eudo. And I’m here to retrieve them. The harvest will be upon us soon and your soldiers would rather lop off human heads than grain heads.”

  Eudo pulled a face but then slapped his brother’s back. “Come, we’ll eat and have your horse groomed. I am living near the castle foundation. You can stay with me there.”

  Over a late meal, Adrien told his brother all the news from Dunmow. He did not delve into his personal relationship with Ediva. There was little to tell, and ’twas no business of Eudo’s anyway. “I have another matter to mention,” he added.

  Eudo picked up his mug. “The missive you sent about the taxes?”

  “Aye.” He set down his knife. “I didn’t receive an answer.”

  Eudo frowned sharply. “I sent the courier off the day after he arrived with a long note to you.”

  “He didn’t return.”

  With a concerned expression, Eudo called for one of the guards. He ordered a count of the men and ordered the sergeant in charge of the rider to report to him.

  When the sergeant arrived, he stated that he’d watched the messenger leave, but no one had seen him since. Because it had only been a few days,
the sergeant hadn’t yet reported the man missing. ’Twas not uncommon for a trip to take longer.

  Eudo turned to Adrien, his mouth tight and thin. “I’ll send some men to search for him. I fear the worst. The roads can be dangerous for a Norman traveling alone.”

  “I had no trouble. There are few settlements along the way.”

  “But that rider is less experienced and you and your horse are much bigger. There are many English who would defy William’s curfew laws and love to place themselves as heroes. I have heard of several Normans disappearing, only to find their bodies later.”

  Adrien remained passive. Eudo’s words were quite true. He looked at his brother. “What was the answer that you sent with him?”

  “I didn’t take all the tax money. William instructed me to take only what I needed to start the castle, from Dunmow and several other estates.” Eudo’s expression showed deep concern. “Adrien, I knew Ediva had no proper means to feed my men, despite her boast. Of course, I’d leave some money to feed them. They’re my men, after all.”

  “Geoffrey, the steward, said you took it all and thus recorded it as such.”

  “Nay! I ordered my sergeant to leave a quarter of it. Geoffrey counted out the money, for my sergeant’s counting skills are not as good. I watched them until Ediva walked in.” He lifted his brows at Adrien. “I’m guessing she also distracted you.”

  Adrien grimaced. “Aye. We should have been watching the money.”

  Eudo shrugged. “You can’t blame either of us. She’s a comely woman.” Immediately, he held up his hand. “’Tis all I’ll say on the matter. My body still aches from your previous admonishment.”

  “As it should. She’s my wife.”

  Eudo’s smile returned. “Is she well?”

  “Now she is.”

  Eudo lost his smile. “Now?”

  Adrien told his brother of her illness and the maid’s suggestion that she’d been poisoned.

  “There’s no reason to kill Ediva. ’Twould be wiser to poison you, Prado.”