Lady of Steel

by Mary Gillgannon

  He was trapped under the walls of Acre. It was boiling hot and a great pile of stones pinned him to the ground. His body was burning as if the flesh of his shoulder was on fire. Or perhaps he was in Hell itself, being punished endlessly for his sins. The thought disturbed him so much he cried out.

  “’Tis all right.” Someone touched his face.

  “Nicola?” Fawkes opened his eyes. It was not Nicola leaning over him but Glennyth, the wise woman.

  She lifted his head and held a cup to his lips. “Drink this.”

  He grimaced as he tasted poppy-laced wine. “I would rather have water.”

  “You’ll get water soon enough. For now, we need you to sleep deeply. What I’m about to do will cause you great pain. We must drain the wound.”

  He wasn’t a coward, but he dreaded what was to come. Already he was in agony.

  “I’m here, Fawkes.” Nicola approached the bed and took his hand.

  He clutched her fingers tightly. Seeing her heartened him as nothing else could. “Where have you been? I can’t remember. Nay, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you’re here now.”

  She gave him a rueful smile. “’Tis a long tale. I’ll save it until you are better.”

  Looking at Nicola, seeing the tenderness and worry in her eyes, Fawkes decided Reynard’s fear that she wished him dead was ludicrous. The next moment he remembered the babe. His son. He longed to hear the words from Nicola’s lips. But already the poppy was muddling his mind and rendering him unable to speak.

  ****

  Nicola sat down on the bed next to Fawkes. She held his hand and focused on his face. She would not look at his shoulder, which was an oozing mess of raw-looking flesh, bran, and onions.

  Glennyth sat on a stool. She appeared even wearier than Nicola felt. “I’ve done the best I can. He’s young and healthy. His chances are good.”

  “And his shoulder? Will he be able to ride? Wield a sword?”

  “Perhaps not as skillfully as before, but aye, if it heals clean, he should not be a cripple.”

  “If it doesn’t?”

  “Mayhap he’ll wish he had died. Some men feel that way when they lose full use of their body. I don’t think Fawkes is one of them. I think he will realize he has much to live for.”

  Please, God, let him recover. “He still burns with fever.”

  “That’s to be expected. The poultice was burning hot, and he had a fever ere we even began.” Glennyth rose. “I’m going to get some rest, and you should also. Mayhaps you should send for Old Emma to keep watch.”

  “See if you can find her. I don’t want to leave him alone.”

  Glennyth nodded. “Make certain he drinks water when he wakes. Lots of water. It will purge the poison and help him heal.”

  Nicola stood. “I’m so grateful for what you’ve done. Especially after the ordeal you’ve been through.”

  “You’re welcome, lady. I hope he recovers. For your sake and for Valmar’s.”

  As Glennyth reached the door, Reynard entered. “How fares he?”

  “It’s far too soon to tell,” Glennyth answered.

  Reynard focused on Nicola. “Did you send someone after Hilary and the children?”

  “Aye. Anselm, Gerard and Engelard. Anselm knows the forest pathway.”

  Reynard nodded, then asked, “Are any of them involved with Alys?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  Reynard grimaced. “While you were gone, Alys tried to kill Fawkes.”

  Nicola gaped at him. “Why? How?”

  “She left him alone and refused to give him water.”

  Glennyth made a shocked sound. “She wouldn’t give him water?”

  Reynard nodded. “She finally admitted her plan was to neglect Fawkes until he died.”

  “But why?” Nicola asked. “I’ve always thought she was enamored of Fawkes.”

  “Perhaps she was. But when she realized he would never care for her, she became angry and resentful. But that’s not all of it. I think she’s allied with FitzSaer. That’s she’s involved with someone who is in communication with FitzSaer at Mordeaux.”

  A cold dread climbed Nicola’s spine. She had not considered anyone at Valmar might be part of FitzSaer’s plot. “Anselm serves Sir Robert, who was one of Mortimer’s men. And I know he has dallied with Alys. Most of the knights and squires have.”

  “He may well be in on the plot.”

  Nicola let out a gasp of dismay. “By the rood! This is disastrous! I asked Anselm to bring Hilary and the children here. What if he takes them to FitzSaer instead? FitzSaer knows he can use Simon to force me to do his will.”

  “Aye, because Simon is your son.” Reynard’s voice was harsh with bitterness.

  Nicola met Reynard’s gaze “How did you find out?”

  “Fawkes told me. He learned about his son from Alys.”

  “I wonder how Alys knew.”

  “I have no idea.” Reynard stepped nearer to Nicola. His eyes were as cold as the green glass in the solar windows. “You should have told him the truth long ago. If you had, none of this would have happened.”

  “You can’t say that,” Glennyth said. “Even if Fawkes knew about Simon, he would still have sent FitzSaer away.”

  “But if he knew about Simon, he wouldn’t have been so suspicious of you.” Reynard fixed Nicola with a look of contempt. “Then he wouldn’t have pursued you to Mordeaux and ended up with a crossbow bolt in his shoulder.”

  “If Fawkes hadn’t gone to Mordeaux then, I’m certain FitzSaer would have lured him there by other means,” Glennyth said.

  “But it is my fault.” Nicola shook her head in misery. “If I hadn’t plotted with Father FitzAlan to be rid of Mortimer, FitzSaer would never have dared take control of Mordeaux. Knowing an ally of John’s was coming, FitzSaer decided to imprison Gilbert and took his place as castellan. The fact is, even as I sought to protect my son, I ended up endangering both him and his father.” Nicola looked toward the bed, her heart twisting in her chest. She might yet lose both of them.

  Glennyth touched her shoulder. “Don’t despair, Nicola. We don’t know for certain Anselm is in league with Alys and FitzSaer. There’s no reason to believe he won’t follow your orders and bring Hilary and children back here. Besides, he’s with Gerard and Engelard, and they are both loyal to Fawkes.”

  “At least we think they are.” A cold blade of fear seemed lodged in Nicola’s belly. She told herself she must not despair.

  Reynard motioned to Fawkes. “How long until we know if he is better?”

  “It might take a day or more,” Glennyth answered.

  “Poor Fawkes,” Nicola said. “He’s gone through so much already.”

  Reynard glared at Nicola. “Alys’s cruel plan almost worked. Having lost blood when he was wounded and then being fevered, Fawkes might well have succumbed.” He turned to Glennyth. “You’ve done all you can. You need to rest.”

  Glennyth nodded. She motioned to Nicola. “You will stay with him?”

  “Of course.”

  After Reynard and Glennyth left. Nicola went to the bed and tenderly stroked Fawkes’s face. He was so dear to her. She loved him so much. “Come back to me,” she whispered. “Come back and I will do whatever I can to make you happy.”

  ****

  Fawkes opened his eyes to the sight of the peaked ceiling of the tower room. Relief flooded him. It had all been a dream. A horrible dream. Of being burned alive and tortured by the Saracens. Although his shoulder still throbbed with pain. He turned his head to look at it, and was confused by what he saw. It appeared someone had poured a bowl of pottage on his wound. Pottage that smelled strongly of onions.

  He was still puzzling on this when there was a soft sigh. He turned the other way. Nicola slept on the bed next to him. Her worn russet gown was dirty and wrinkled, and her lovely hair was a rat’s nest. For once she did not look like the perfect, elegant lady. But she was still beautiful. She would always be beautiful to him.


  Emotion filled in his chest, choking his throat and making his eyes water. If he’d been able to pray in the midst of his terrible dreams, this is what he would have prayed for: To be alive, with Nicola beside him.

  Clearly, she was very weary. He was weary also. Even lifting his head fatigued him. The urge to sleep dragged him down. He used the last of his energy to reach out and clasp Nicola’s hand in his. Nicola was here beside him. Nothing else mattered.

  ****

  Nicola was awakened by her aching muscles. She stretched to ease them and wrinkled her nose at the smell. Onions and something else. Something foul. She sat up. Fawkes’s wound was an ugly mess and he still appeared flushed and feverish. Water. Glennyth had told her to make sure he drank lots of water.

  She got up, poured a cup of water, and brought it back to the bed. Touching his good shoulder, she sought to wake him. “Fawkes, you must drink.”

  He mumbled something. She lifted his head and held the cup to his lips. To her relief, he drank. When he was finished, he lay back and returned to his fevered dreams. She returned the cup to the table, then went to the window and opened the shutters. It was full dark. If the knights hadn’t yet found Hilary and the children, they were likely somewhere in the forest. She imagined how frightened Simon and Joanie would be. Poor Hilary. She must be wondering if she would have been better off staying at Rosebrook.

  Nicola was torn between her anxiety for Fawkes and her fears for her son. There was naught she could do for Fawkes at this moment, and it seemed unlikely he would rouse anytime soon. She would fetch Old Emma and have her watch over him for a time.

  When she woke the servant, Old Emma stared at her in dismay. “Lady, you’re a mess. We must find you a clean gown and fix your hair.”

  “My appearance is the least of my worries. I want you to sit with Fawkes for a time. If he wakes, give him water. I won’t be gone long.”

  “What’s so important that you must leave him?” Old Emma struggled from her pallet and rearranged her gown.

  “I sent some knights on an errand, and I have to find out if they’ve returned.”

  When they reached the tower room, Old Emma went in ahead of Nicola. She leaned over the bed and felt Fawkes’s forehead. “He’s still fevered.” She tsked in dismay.

  “Aye. But with luck, Glennyth’s treatment will work and he’ll be better soon.”

  “I’ve never seen a poultice like that before.”

  “Boiled bran and onions. It’s meant to draw the poison out.”

  “Your mother used moldy bread.”

  “What?”

  “Aye, moldy bread. Said the mold helped stop the poison.”

  Why hadn’t Old Emma mentioned this when Fawkes was first brought in wounded? Nicola spoke sharply. “I’ll ask Glennyth about that treatment. For now, keep watch over him. Give him water if he wakes.”

  “Lady, before you leave, can we not do something about your appearance. You look like a scullery maid.”

  “Very well.” If there was news, surely someone would come and fetch her.

  She let Old Emma help her into a clean gown, brush out her hair and braid it away from her face. Then the servant wet a cloth and cleaned the smudges from Nicola’s face.

  Old Emma stepped back. “There. You look almost passable as the lady of the keep.” Nicola gave the servant a severe look. Old Emma grinned at her.

  Nicola gestured to the bed. “If you must fuss, do so over Fawkes. If he stirs, give him water.”

  “Aye, milady I’ll guard him well.”

  Nicola hurriedly made her way down the stairs, ignoring the hard knot in her stomach. She hated to leave Fawkes; she would return to his side as soon as possible.

  She stopped first in the hall. The only person there was Maida, putting out slices of maislin bread for the evening meal. “Have you seen Reynard or Glennyth?”

  “Nay, milady.”

  Nicola left the castle and hurried to the gate. She called up to the guard in the watchtower, “Any news? Has anyone arrived since you’ve been on duty?”

  “Nay, my lady. All is quiet.”

  She wanted to scream with frustration. Or climb on a horse and race off to search for Hilary and the children herself. But she couldn’t do something so foolish. She must be patient, although it was difficult.

  She turned to go back to the castle. Behind her the guard called, “Riders. It looks like Gerard and Engelard.”

  She rushed back to the tower. “No sign of Anselm?”

  “Nay, my lady. Just the two of them.”

  Determined to see for herself, she climbed the stairs to the watchtower. As the guard had said, two riders were approaching. Nicola clutched her hands together and forced herself to take deep breaths. Had her worst fears been realized? Had Anselm come upon Hilary and the children and taken them back to Mordeaux?

  As soon as the two men rode through the gate, Nicola rushed down the tower stairs to confront them. “What’s happened! Where’s Anselm?”

  Gerard removed his helmet. “We followed the trackway through the forest but didn’t find them. When we left the woods, we saw an army camped outside Mordeaux Castle. So we came back here to report what we’d seen.”

  “And Anselm?”

  “He said he was going to continue on to Rosebrook, thinking maybe Hilary and the children never made it as far as Mordeaux.”

  Nicola felt almost faint with worry. An enemy army was outside Mordeaux and she had no idea where Hilary and the children were. Had FitzSaer found them and taken them back to Mordeaux? Or were they lost in the woods?

  “Lady?” She turned. “Should we come with you and report to Fawkes what we’ve seen?” Gerard asked.

  “Nay, not Fawkes. He’s not well enough to deal with this. You should make your report to Reynard. He’s likely in the solar.”

  The knights handed off their mounts and started for the castle. Nicola followed, her body tense with dread. Reynard already blamed her for Fawkes’s injury. Now he would have another reason to despise her. She didn’t want to face his anger, but she had no choice. It was too late for her to play the helpless lady who cedes her authority to men.

  By the time she arrived in the solar, it appeared the knights had told Reynard what they knew. The look Fawkes’s captain gave Nicola was cold as stone. “There’s no reason for you to be here. We’ll do much better without you.”

  “I know much more about Mordeaux Castle and its defenses than any of you. If Fawkes was awake and able to take part in this discussion, he would want me here.”

  “But he isn’t. Instead he’s fighting for his life…and it’s your fault.”

  Gerard let out a gasp.

  Nicola struggled to control her anger. “You have no right to speak to me that way. I had no way of knowing FitzSaer would try to kill Fawkes. I endured much hardship and risk to bring Glennyth back here to treat his injury. I care for Fawkes as much as you do. I also care what happens at Mordeaux.”

  Reynard narrowed his eyes at her. “Is it Mordeaux you care for, or your son who dwells there? That’s it, isn’t it? That’s the real reason you went to Mordeaux. Not to get Glennyth but to make certain nothing happened to your precious son.”

  Nicola’s distress turned to fury. “Today, when I rode back from Mordeaux, it was Glennyth I brought with me. I knew Fawkes needed the healer as soon as possible. For Fawkes’s sake I left my son behind to face an unknown fate.”

  Engelard cleared his throat. “Beg pardon, lady, but are you saying one of the children with Lady Hilary is your son?”

  “’Tis true.”

  “Although you never saw fit to tell your husband any of this, did you?” Reynard goaded.

  Nicola met his gaze stonily. “What matters is how we deal with this army outside of Mordeaux.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence. Gerard spoke, “I wish we could ask Fawkes what to do. Are you certain he’s not well enough to discuss strategy? He wouldn’t have to do anything, merely listen and give advice from his bed.”<
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  “Only Glennyth can truly say if he is well enough,” Nicola said.

  “For once I agree with you,” Reynard retorted.

  Nicola motioned to the two knights. “Go and find Glennyth and bring her here. Tell her we need her opinion.”

  The two men returned with Glennyth only moments later. She arched a brow. “I understand you wish my opinion on something.”

  “Have you been to see Fawkes?” Reynard asked.

  “He was sleeping. As was Old Emma. I doubt either of them will wake for a while.”

  “Can you tell if he will recover?” Engelard asked.

  Glennyth’s voice was crisp. “Some things require patience. This is one of them.”

  “We have a dilemma,” Nicola said. “There’s an army at Mordeaux, and we need to decide what to do. Do you think Fawkes is well enough for us to consult him in this matter?”

  Glennyth shook her head, frowning. “Knowing what I know of Fawkes, I would advise against it. He needs all his strength to heal. His fever has lessened, but it’s still there, which means his body is still fighting the poison in his wound.”

  “Looks as if I will have to deal this on my own.” Reynard fixed Nicola with a glare.

  She glared back at him. “This is not all your decision. I have a say in this as well.”

  “How so, lady?” Gerard appeared genuinely puzzled by her words.

  “Valmar and Mordeaux have been ruled by my family for generations. I vow, if Fawkes was lucid and aware, he would listen to me.”

  “He probably would.” Reynard’s tone was caustic. “But only because he is besotted with you. I, however, am not.”

  “That’s not the only reason.” Nicola spoke boldly. “He knows I’ve been a good chatelaine at Valmar and I have knowledge of Mordeaux and Valmar no one else does.”

  “I think Nicola is right,” Glennyth said. “You should involve her in the decision. For three years, Mortimer did little but drink himself senseless, while Nicola saw to it that Valmar prospered.”

  “That was different,” Reynard said. “We’re talking of matters of warfare. Nicola has no experience in such matters.”

  “Even so, she knows FitzSaer much better than you do,” Glennyth persisted.

  “FitzSaer’s likely no more than a pawn in this thing,” Reynard said. “The man we must deal with is the one who leads the army camped outside Mordeaux.”