With the further proof of Annis’ ruthlessness there was increased interest in watching her lessons; and some degree of frank curiosity to see whether Gyrfalon would be soft with her, that would be proof that she was his mistress, it was argued. Some others thought it prudent to stay away from the practices; but enough were nosy.
Neither Gyrfalon nor Annis cared in the single-minded pursuit of gladiatorial excellence. Annis was now getting good enough that Gyrfalon delighted in pushing her further; and she delighted in trying to get under his guard, and in being able to sometimes block his attacks.
It chanced this morning that there had been autumnal rain overnight; that had been an unpleasantly penetrating rain and with the aid of the soldiery to get the harvest in the whole crop had been saved, to the delight of the villagers and the satisfaction of Gyrfalon who was consequently ready to enjoy himself in the exercise. The damp conditions could not quash his good spirits this morning, though mud was in everything and the squared cobbles of the castle courtyard were slick with wet and mud and untended lichens and weeds that Gyrfalon had not yet got around to having scraped off. Fighting was difficult; and Annis, hard pressed, set her foot awry upon a slippery flag and fell backwards with a yelp of surprise.
Panther-like, Gyrfalon sprang forward to punish the error; but mindful that he treated their practise bouts almost as seriously as real fights, the girl reached out blindly with her free hand; and seizing upon a struggling but optimistic clump of grass forcing its way between two flags she pulled it up bodily and flung it in the warlord’s face. As she expected he fell back instinctively; and she rolled aside, thrusting her sword in his direction as she did so to discourage the lunge she expected.
Such viciousness in fighting did much to dispel the idea from the minds of some that the warlord took the girl to his bed; but the main interest was in the skill that was worth watching; and the tenacity of Annis who received spontaneous applause from several of the watchers.
The lunge from his sword did not materialise; and Annis felt her sword point catch and hold a moment. Gyrfalon grunted; then shook clear the last remaining remnants of the offending grass and mud. Then he was upon her, pinning her wrists down with his hands, his knee on her thigh to stop her kicking.
Annis went limp.
“I believe I must yield, my lord,” she panted, gazing ruefully into a face only inches from hers, a savagely exultant tiger grin upon his countenance. Her eyes met his one eye and for a reason she could not account for her face was suffused with blood in a flush. Her breath came raggedly still from her exertion; and from the excitement of the fight; and a sudden joy in life and contentment filled her, that was scarcely to be believed when flattened in a muddy puddle beneath the weight of one’s conqueror. Annis knew she was smiling at him.
He grinned savagely back at her.
“You wounded me, girl,” there was chagrin in his voice; yet pride in his pupil. “Few but my brother can boast of that!”
Distress filled her smoke blue eyes briefly; but a rapid and practical glance at the wound showed that the blood flowed but sluggishly.
“I fear it was luck more than skill, my lord,” she confessed “I thrust to keep you at bay as you taught me. I did not mean to rake you with the point.”
He laughed.
“No matter; the thrust was correct, and the wound a fair one; that such a thrust will make if the attacker be dilatory and slow as I was. Your aim with it was accurate; I was but blind longer, , than you expected that slowed me.”
She gasped, looking concerned again.
“My lord, I pray that I have not hurt your good eye?” she asked in consternation. He shook his head.
“No, you little wildcat. But it was a good try,” he was appreciative.
Annis was still on the ground, still pinned by his weight; she may have yielded but he had not let her go yet. She was waiting to get her breath back and finding it difficult
“M- may I get up now?” She asked, finding it difficult to phrase the query in terms that had any shred of dignity left in them from her supine position. To her surprise her heart was still beating wildly, though she had been relaxed a while since; and though her present position lacked dignity, somehow that was unimportant and she asked because she felt she ought to.
Gyrfalon grinned wolfishly at her.
“Why certainly, my lady. Since you have yielded to me,” and as swiftly as he had seized her he let her go, rising to his feet in one fluid movement. Annis loved to watch his grace in such movements; it always impressed her. He extended a hand to her; as he had not since she had used the same to attack him.
The difference was that she had yielded; and he knew she would abide by that. Annis was glad of his help on the slippery ground.
“I must needs dress your wound, my lord,” she said, coming to her feet with almost as much grace thanks to his strong hand.
He gave her another wolfish grin.
“What, patch your handiwork?” he mocked gently.
She pulled a rueful face.
“I suppose it be something along those lines,” she returned. “Come; it is not serious but we should not delay,” she held out a hand to him to hasten; and dropped it as he strode past her.
“Shalt change into dry clothes first girl” he said “You are saturated from lying on your back half the morning and cold enough that any man be like to enjoy sight of your nipples as you might disapprove of. The wound will wait a few minutes.”
Annis flushed darkly; and wondered in passing if he had included himself in the description ‘any man’. How like Gyrfalon to make the suggestion that she lazed by lying on her back! She gave a rueful grin.
She was halfway up the stairs to the tower when the innuendo hit her and her flush was even deeper!
Annis changed and stalked into Gyrfalon’s room with salves. She was frowning.
“Well, it looks as though I be in for a bad time” said Gyrfalon.
“My Lord is pleased to make smutty jokes in front of his men,” said Annis.
He took her chin.
“Did that hurt you? I meant it not so; art such an earthy little thing that I thought you would take it in good part.”
She flushed.
“It took me half way up the stairs ere it dawned on me you meant not to chide me for supposed laziness; that is what hurts, mine own slowness,” she said.
“Your honesty is remarkable,” he said. “So you will not take issue if I say I be the only man to ever lay you on your back?”
She flushed but laughed.
“I do believe you are a bad man!” she said.
“I keep telling you that,” he said.
“Why so you do!” she said. “Perchance I might believe it – a little. Sit, bad man; I must needs patch you up.”
He sat; and Annis bathed and dressed the sword cut high on his chest, packing it with a healing cream consisting mainly of comfrey and bugle. Her other hand she rested lightly on his muscular chest to balance; reflecting on how well he kept himself in condition. Her eyes ran thoughtfully up to his face and rested there.
“What?” he asked, rather peremptorily.
She gave a half smile.
“I was thinking of your silly comments about your face the other day and was comparing you favourably to Lord Marfey, my lord,” she admitted. “Though your face’s beauty is marred you take such excellent care of yourself. Your muscles,” her eyelashes fluttered to veil her eyes, “are quite good enough to teach anatomy from. Marfey has made himself unattractive as well as having an unattractive personality and a lecherous cruelty that make his face uglier for his soul being reflected in it than a dozen burns might; actually he’d be better looking for being burned and rendered down for lard,” she added meditatively, “and the thought of touching his flesh is totally repulsive.”
“Which mine is not?” his mouth twisted “I am not sure if your compliment is straightforward or backhanded – that I am in good shape for mine age. Were not one of the jibes you have
thrown at me to do with mine senile decrepitude?”
She grinned and shrugged.
“Your age is hard to guess, my lord; I made but jibe as you have about me being whey faced. Anyone over thirty is decrepit, surely?” she twinkled at him.
He gave a bark of laughter.
“Thou minx! I am almost forty years old; and I would love to hear you tell my sainted brother that he be approaching decrepitude!”
Annis chuckled.
“Not having seen him I know not if he be so well cared for as you; who are a good example to the rest of us to stay fit, I imagine. There, that is done,” she patted the last bit of dressing into place. “if you would care to put on your tunic I shall go down to the stillroom for a new jar of salve for your face.”
She packed up her paraphernalia neatly and headed for the door; and turned to survey him again ere she went out. Gyrfalon muttered an oath as he pulled on his tunic, almost angrily; and Annis wondered if it were thoughts of his brother that had turned his mood so swiftly.
Gyrfalon scowled and she tripped lightly out. The chit could be so disturbing when she chose! No, such was unfair, it were not that she chose it. It was just that he could not fathom her.
When he had held her down earlier he could almost have imagined that she seemed….responsive to his touch. And she blushed readily … but she responded in so light a tone to his half serious jesting and now was so clinical in her treatment of him … and serve him right for an old fool that he should hope ... decrepit at thirty forsooth!
Annis was well pleased with her own self control. Gyrfalon had a strange effect upon her feelings that disturbed her; and she was glad to take refuge in the clinical stance of a healer! She paused in the cool stillroom to get her rapid breathing under control and to let her hot face cool.
And by the time she returned to the warlord’s chamber with the new pot of salve she had herself back under control.
Chapter 6
Annis dipped her fingers into the jar of salve and scooped out plenty to apply to Gyrfalon’s face. She stood a moment, considering where to start, then with a sudden startled exclamation shook the stuff from her hand and started wiping it frantically.
“What is it?” Gyrfalon asked impatiently.
“My lord…. Oh Dear God, there is something in it; something that burns,” Annis was washing her hands hurriedly in his wash bowl. “If I had not paused before putting it on your face while I assessed how it was healing it would have been too late … look” she held out her hand to the warlord to demonstrate the small blisters all the way down the inside of her fingers. She shuddered and her teeth chattered suddenly in shock. “It would have been agony, Gyrfalon; almost unbearable on your raw skin!” her eyes were dark with horror.
Gyrfalon’s face tightened.
“Is this an attack on me, girl – or on you? For if such a thing occurred, I might well have lashed out unthinkingly in mine agony and slain you by accident; for you are only a fragile creature I could break in half with a blow,” he took her hand to look again on the blisters, as angry and red as if she had plunged her hand into fire.
She shook her head, considering his comment.
“I know not, my lord – but I imagine in some respects it comes to the same thing. If you killed me you would then be bereft of the pain relief. Excuse me, I want to get the other jar; I must find out if it, too, be contaminated. If it is not, I may then treat your face – and my hand,” she sniffed hard and a tear of pain escaped one eye.
Gyrfalon rose in one rapid movement and emptied the water in the bowl down the garderobe, and poured more water from the ewer.
“Put it in that. I will have Elissa fetch the other jar. And,” he caught a second tear on a surprisingly gentle finger “My hostage does not cry; not in front of any of my soldiery”.
Annis nodded, sniffed hard again and did as she was told, shocked to the pit of her stomach both by the intensity of the pain itself and her imagination of the agony it would have caused an open burn.
Gyrfalon put his head round the door and issued instructions to Elissa who waited, as always, without.
It was not long before the rangy female warrior knocked and abruptly entered.
“I have had stuff on my finger all the way up the stairs, my lord,” she said laconically. “I feel nothing untoward; a coolness perchance and a little numbness. And the wax seals were undisturbed too,” she added.
“Excellent,” Annis turned round from the bowl, patting her hand dry in a fold of her linsey-woolsey gown. Elissa grinned at the childish gesture; but she stopped grinning as she caught sight of the girl’s blistered hand.
“What in thunder could do that?” she demanded, seizing Annis by the wrist to look closer.
“Giant hogweed; prepared in a certain way, and with a spell,” the girl replied. “One avoids the very plant if possible – even brushing the leaves can give a nasty burn if the skin is then exposed to the sun’s light. Whoever did this must have harvested it with gloves and might even so be blistered. Look closely, Elissa, among the men next time you are amongst them in case you see any similarly afflicted.”
Elissa was dutifully studying the blisters.
“Why would any do this?” she asked bluntly “It would not kill, just make you infernally angry my lord.”
Annis managed a shaky grin.
“Some might say, when he is in a bad mood, infernallier angrier,” she said.
“Vixen,” said Gyrfalon. “Yes Elissa; you are correct. And it seems to me that I might have been expected to have killed Annis for the same.”
“Why? Even I don’t find her that irritating,” said Elissa. Annis made a face at her.
“It rather depends, I would have thought,” said Annis dryly, “who it would most benefit in having me out of the way.” She scooped out another handful; and waited despite Elissa’s assurances. It might after all have been Elissa who was the culprit, though Annis did not think so. “I would have said that my single most effective feature is mine ability as a healer. Before I came you were, my lord Gyrfalon, dependant on one who, as I pointed out to you, seared feeling rather than curing. My skills deprive this party of a modicum of power over you.”
Gyrfalon stared at her thoughtfully.
“The wizard is many miles from here; a three hour ride, at my estimation,” he said.
“But does he have agents?” she asked.
“It is possible. We must consider what to do,” he began to pace up and down.
Annis, to Elissa’s horror, pushed him firmly into the chair and began working the new salve into his face. Elissa averted her gaze; the sight of it sickened her. Gyrfalon’s good eye saw the motion and gave her a look of derisive amusement; a look that warmed as he flicked his eye back to Annis.
“If, my lord,” suggested Annis, “you were heard to give a terrible scream, then went flying off to the wizard, and had suitable back up following, you might then judge if he were expecting you and you and your guard might then kill him. And I, supposedly dead, could watch to see if any followed to claim reward.”
“Someone might even slip out ahead of Lord Gyrfalon to apprise the wizard of his imminent approach,” suggested Elissa. Annis nodded.
“It means a lot of watching, but you might yet find out your traitor, Gyrfalon” she said.
“No escort,” he said firmly. “The wizard will know if I bring others; he has some means of knowing some of my thoughts. I must deal with him myself.”
Annis caught Elissa’s eye behind Gyrfalon’s back, tapped an imaginary sword, and mimed holding reins. Elissa nodded briefly and Annis grinned, almost back to her old self now the lotion worked on her blisters as on Gyrfalon’s face.
Unaware of their byplay behind him the warlord continued,
“When the ointment has soaked in we will put it into action. Elissa, you are responsible for Annis’ safety while I am gone.”
“I will keep her in my sight at all times and away from your troops until you return my lord,” prom
ised Elissa quite truthfully.
Gyrfalon resumed his helmet, to Elissa’s relief.
“And now to make a horrible scream” he said grimly.
“If you can’t, I’ll bite you if you like,” volunteered Annis, twinkling at him. He stared at her and gave a half grin.
“Little vixen, I believe you would too,” he said appreciatively. “There is, however, no need” he stood by the window that opened onto the courtyard, wider than the embrasure on the other side.
“AAAAAAaaaaaaeeeeeeeeegh!”
He flung back his head and cried out; and Annis heard in the cry all the remembered suffering and all the frustrations he had nursed to himself for so long. Then he turned to the two women and grinned; and the grin was almost boyish and mischievous.
“That ought to do it,” he said.
Already guards were pounding up the stairs. Annis cast herself artistically on the floor with her head on one side as though her neck were broken. As an afterthought she pulled up her skirt on one side to display one leg bare to above the knee. Gyrfalon gave her a nod of approval.
“Thorough,” he approved. He opened the door and pushed past the guards, ignoring queries; and leaving the door open. Elissa appeared and after being sure the guards in front had seen Annis’s apparently lifeless body pushed the door shut and barred it.
Annis sat up.
“Quick – see if any slip out of the postern,” she said. “Fulke is on duty on the main gate at this time and he owes me for helping his rheumatism. He will tell us if any left that way.”
Elissa nodded and went to the embrasure to peer out. Annis ran to the door to listen.
“The guards have gone,” she reported.
“So too has a cloaked figure at the postern,” said Elissa laconically. “And I hear Lord Gyrfalon’s horse now.”
Falconburg Divided (The Falconburg Series Book 1) Page 8
