The Conqueror (Hot Knights)

by Gillgannon, Mary

  “I suppose it will have to.” She turned her gaze toward an area by the fire that had been made private by the use of a large wooden screen. “How fares Wulfget? Is she eating?”

  “I said she will eat and so she does.”

  “You are not bullying her, are you?”

  Fornay puffed up in indignation. “I would not browbeat a gentle maid, especially one who has suffered as she has.”

  “My pardon.” Edeva suppressed a smile. Odd to think that the hostile Norman had become nursemaid to frail Wulfget. Even though she worried the Saxon woman might suffer if Fornay proved fickle, a part of her rejoiced that the Norman captain had found something to divert his attention.

  She crossed the hall toward the stairs. Still a fortnight to wait for Brevrienne. She had marked off the days he was gone on a tally stick by her bed, and every mark encouraged her. For a sennight after meeting with Beornwold, she had worried the rebels would attack, but as time passed, she allowed herself to hope that her brothers had changed their minds

  Her sense of peace was shattered by a shout sounded at the door. “Sir Alan, come quickly! Lord Brevrienne’s at the gate! He’s been wounded!”

  For a split second, Edeva froze. Then she gathered up her skirts and ran across the hall.

  * * *

  “’Twas an ambush,” Rob said as he, Fornay, and Osbert carried Brevrienne up the stairs, Edeva following behind. “We were supposed to meet the rebel forces north of Gloucester, but they did not show themselves. When Berkeley sounded the retreat, we left the valley the way we had come. The Saxons were waiting for us in the trees.”

  “Anyone else injured?” Fornay asked.

  “That was the odd part. They must have been poor shots or quickly lost their nerve, for Jobert was the only one who was hit.” Rob took a deep breath, grunting under the weight of his burden, and then continued. “We stopped the bleeding as best we could, then took him into the town. A surgeon took out the bolt—he had to cut quite deep to get it out. Afterward, he said Jobert must not be moved. But Brevrienne, damn him, he insisted we bring him back here. He said if he were going to die, he would die on his own lands. Which he is like to do after this rough journey. The stitches broke open twice.”

  “Damned fool!” Fornay swore as they rounded the corner to enter the bedchamber.

  “You know what a stubborn wretch he is. We could not gainsay him.”

  The three men carried their burden the last few feet and maneuvered him onto the bed. They stood there panting. Edeva pushed past them to examine Brevrienne.

  The sight of his pale face was like an icy blade cutting through her. His long, powerful body sprawled limply. Edeva swallowed a sob and reached to feel his forehead. “He’s fevered.”

  “’Tis common after being wounded. That worries me much less than the loss of blood,” Rob said.

  “Where was he struck?”

  Rob stepped forward and pulled back the cloak that had been wrapped around the wounded man. A large crimson stain spread over the upper portion of Brevrienne’s tunic. Rob started to pull up the garment, and then grimaced when he saw it was stuck to the wound. “You do it,” he told Edeva. “You’ve a gentler touch than me.”

  Glancing at Brevrienne’s waxen visage, Edeva wondered he would feel anything anyway. “Get me water,” she said.

  Rob brought over the ewer. Edeva dribbled water on the caked blood, loosening it, then eased the tunic up. She carefully lifted the blood-soaked bandage to reveal the wound beneath.

  She could see the clean, but surprisingly large, incision the surgeon had made to excise the arrow. He had sewn up the opening afterward, but the stitches had broken open.

  ’Twas not a terrible sight; she’d seen much worse, as when Eadrer had cut off his foot with an axe. But the fact that it was Brevrienne who was injured made her feel sick. Once so vigorous and alive, he now lay before her as pale and still as a stone effigy.

  “The healer,” she said, “we must fetch the healer.”

  “What? Speak properly, woman!”

  Fornay’s sharp words broke her out of a stunned trance. She’d unconsciously spoken in Saxon.

  “I said, ‘We must get the healer’.”

  “You told me she could not walk this far,” Fornay accused.

  “Then fetch her on a cart or a mule!”

  Fornay turned to Rob. “There’s an old witchwoman in the village. I know not if she has any skill.”

  “She does!” Edeva clenched her fists in aggravation. “Can you deny that Wulfget is better now?”

  “That could be mere chance and sound reasoning. Anyone could see that Wulfget needed to eat properly or she would not heal.”

  She wanted to strike him, but remembering what she learned of the man, she made her voice meek. “I’ve never treated such a serious wound. I need the advice of someone more experienced if I am to aid him.”

  The men looked at each other. “’Twas an old witch-woman who birthed me,” Hamo said. “Else I would not have lived. I was too big and placed wrong in my mother’s womb. The witch-woman turned me so I would come free. My mother even survived the birthing. That one, anyway. She perished with the next.”

  Rob shot Edeva a quick glance, and then lowered his voice. “We have to trust her, Alan. I think it’s what Jobert would want us to do. He sets great store by Lady Edeva’s opinion.”

  Fornay made a sour face, then said, “Fetch the healer. She lives on the far east edge of the village in a pigsty of a dwelling. Take a cart and another man. She’s no dainty thing if you have to lift her. I vow she weighs near as much as Brevrienne.”

  The two hurried off, obviously relieved to be doing something.

  Edeva went to get a clean cloth. She dipped it in the ewer and began to bathe Brevrienne’s face. Fornay stood where he was, watching her.

  “Is there any wine?” she asked him.

  “Yea. Jobert apparently bought several casks in Gloucester, and the men brought them back.”

  “You might fetch a skin of it. ’Tis useful for cleaning wounds and also as a way to give medicine.”

  Fornay didn’t move.

  Edeva straightened. “You’ll have to trust me with him sometime!”

  Fornay folded his arms over his chest and glared at her.

  “Why is this different than before? I have been alone with him many times. I’ve slept beside him! If I wanted to murder him, why did I not do it then?”

  “He was not wounded and helpless.”

  “You think I have no honor at all? ’Twould be the healthy man I would attack, not the injured one!”

  “You’re a Saxon.” He gestured to the bed. “He lies there now because of an ambush by your people. They did not meet William’s army like men, but cowardly attacked from the cover of the forest. Just as you and your kin tried when we first came to Oxbury.”

  “My people are desperate! They will use any method they can to win! Would you not do the same if you stood to lose everything?”

  “I might. Which is why I do not leave you alone with him.”

  Edeva expelled a moan of exasperated fury. “I am not one of the rebels. I have resigned myself to Norman rule, at least to this man’s.” She nodded toward the bed. “1 believe it is the right thing to do for my people, the best way to protect them. And I have willingly bedded Brevrienne. I’m not such a Jezebel that I would now try to murder him!”

  “Father Reibald says that women have no souls. In that matter, I believe we agree.”

  Edeva shook her head, anger fading to resignation. There was no point in arguing with this bull-headed fool. He would condemn her with his dying breath.

  She drew up a stool beside the bed and reached to take Brevrienne’s big hand in her own. His skin was warm; his fingers felt callused and strong. If she did not look at him, she could almost imagine he was not badly wounded.

  She closed her eyes, fighting tears. God help her, but Fornay was a lackwit to think she would harm Brevrienne.

  A short while later
there was a clatter at the stairs. Fornay left his post and went to open the door.

  Rob and Hamo rushed in. “She wouldn’t come! We tried everything, even jabbing a sword in her belly. She merely laughed at us.”

  “Torture,” Fornay hissed. “That’s what Jobert would do.”

  “Nay!” Edeva jumped up. “She’s old and helpless, for all her bulk. And if you kill, her, we’ll lose her knowledge forever. I’ll go. I’ll convince her. She probably didn’t understand what you wanted.”

  Edeva hurried out the door and down the stairs. She would run all the way there if she had to.

  At the gate, she rapidly explained her mission. The guard nodded and let her out.

  She’d taken no mantle, and the cold air stung at her face and pierced her clothes. Halfway there, she remembered she’d brought no coin or valuables to pay the healer. She’d have to bargain with Helwenna and convince her that this was a matter of importance. This time ’twas not some frail villein’s daughter who was ill, but the new lord. If Brevrienne did not live, it would go hard with all of them.

  A few people stood outside of their huts as Edeva passed. “’Tis the Norman lord,” she told them. “He’s been injured.”

  They watched her with stoic, patient eyes.

  She was gasping for breath by the time she reached the healer’s hut. Outside, she paused, feeling the sweat cool on her face, then she went in.

  “Helwenna, you must help me.” She approached the old woman. “I have no coin to pay you, but you must aid me. The Norman lord has been badly wounded.”

  “So,” Helwenna cackled, “that’s what those soldiers were making such a fuss about. I thought they were going to spit me like a roast goose.” She laughed again. “No matter to me, I’d be grateful to be delivered from this woeful life.”

  Edeva bent nearer, trying not to gag at the odor. “I’m not going to threaten you, but you must help. When the Normans return, you have to go with them.”

  Helwenna shook her head. “I’ll not leave here until I am carried to my byre.”

  Edeva knelt by the healer’s pallet, her hands clenched into fists. “You have to. If the Norman dies, they will kill all of us, torch the village. Everyone will suffer. You cannot be so selfish as to let that happen!”

  “Then they are evil men. Why should I work to keep one of them alive?”

  “The Norman lord is not evil. If he lives, I think he will do well for Oxbury. He is just and strong. How many lords can that be said of?”

  Helwenna’s dark eyes gleamed. “You are fond of him? Why did you not say so?”

  “Aye.” Edeva took a shaky breath. “I am fond of him. I truly do not want him to die.”

  “I won’t go with you, but I’ll tell you what to do.”

  “I am no healer... I cannot...”

  “Think you that these would be any use?” Helwenna held up her gnarled, swollen hands. “You must be my hands, Edeva. And my eyes. Tell me what the wound looks like. Where it is, how deep, everything.”

  * * *

  “I would not have believed it, but it seems to be helping,” Rob said.

  Fornay moved nearer to the bed and nodded grudgingly. “Still, he does not wake.”

  “Loss of blood, weakness... is that not right, Lady Edeva? But the wound looks better. That is something.”

  Edeva leaned over and stroked Brevrienne’s brow, searching for fever. As odd as Helwenna’s instructions had been, they seemed to have worked. The wound was closing up nicely, and Brevrienne’s forehead felt cool.

  “Who would have thought a poultice of moldy bread could heal?”

  “’Tis something in the blight, Helwenna said.” Edeva stretched wearily. She’d scarce slept in the last day and a half. “It stops wounds from festering.”

  “My lady, you should rest,” Rob said. “We’ll keep watch and call you if he worsens or wakes.”

  She nodded and moved leadenly to the door. For a moment or two, she’d lie down. If she did not, she’d be no good to anyone.

  * * *

  As if climbing out of a dark, empty pit, Jobert awoke. At first, he was aware of only the throbbing pain in his shoulder, and then his other senses came to life. The smell of a brazier burning. The feel of warm, soft blankets against his naked skin. He opened his eyes. Dark shapes loomed over him. “Where am I?” he asked.

  Rob’s face came into view. “You’re at Oxbury, my lord. You asked us to bring you here, and so we did.”

  Jobert remembered fevered agonized dreams, the dread of dying. “Where is she? Where is Edeva?”

  Alan leaned over him. “Rest now. Do not try to talk.”

  Jobert nodded feebly. The pain grew worse; the fire of it swallowed his thoughts.

  “I’m going to give you some poppy and mandrake the surgeon gave us. ’Twill help you sleep.”

  Alan held a cup to his lips. Weary beyond reason, Jobert drank. He felt himself sliding down into the pit once more. “Edeva,” he whispered.

  FIFTEEN

  “Should we not call Lady Edeva?” Rob asked.

  Alan grunted. “He does not need her aid.”

  “I think you are wrong. I think he would recover more quickly if he knew she sat by his bedside. On the way here, when he was fevered, he asked for her.”

  “Brevrienne has always had poor judgment regarding women. First, it was Damaris. Even when her father forbid Jobert to see her, he could not stay away. Valois had Jobert thrown into a dungeon, very nearly cost him his life.” He shook his head. “Now, he entangles himself with a scheming Saxon!”

  “I cannot think ill of her. She has always done well by the manor. The people of Oxbury respect her. If Brevrienne wed with her, ’twould give his authority here more weight.”

  “She’s a cunning slut. She has fooled all of you.” Alan gave his companion a dark look. “I know she meets with the rebels. She has kin among them, mayhaps brothers or uncles. If a chance arises, she will aid them, have no doubt. She is no natural woman, even though she has traded her man’s garb for kirtles, her weapons for a needle and thread. Mark my words, she waits until the time is right. Then, like a viper, she will strike.”

  “She does not seem devious to me. Besides, if she were working with the rebels, why did they not attack while Brevrienne was gone? ’Twould have been the logical time to make their move.”

  Alan smiled sourly. “’Tis Brevrienne they want. Once he is dead, they believe we will all drift away and they can reclaim Oxbury.”

  “But I do not understand Lady Edeva’s part in it. A dozen times, she could have killed him. Poisoned his food, cut his throat as he slept...”

  “She is weak, like all women. Weak and afraid, though she does not show it. But someday the rebels will goad her to act. She will not have to do the deed, but simply betray him to his enemies.”

  Rob shook his head. “Your plot seems farfetched. Have you proof regarding Lady Edeva’s plans?”

  “I’ve seen her meet with the rebels.”

  “Have you told Jobert?”

  “I’ve not had the chance to tell him of it yet,”

  “You’re certain there could be no mistake?”

  “’Twas in the village. She’d convinced me to go there because of Wulfget, the woman who was burned in the kitchen fire. Wulfget was sore injured, ’tis true, but I doubt that was Edeva’s motive. She insisted I escort her. While I was in the hut with the healer and Wulfget, she pursued her real purpose. I went looking for her and saw her meet a Saxon who came out of the forest. His beard was long, his clothes filthy. He did not look like a villager, but a warrior. They argued. He grabbed her arm and threatened her. She appeared guilty and nervous when she returned to the hut.” He nodded slowly. “’Twas one of the rebels, I’d swear it.”

  “But you said they argued. She may have refused to aid him.”

  “That time, mayhaps. But there will be other attempts. Eventually, she will do their bidding.”

  Rob sighed. “If what you say is true, then we should not l
eave her alone with Brevrienne until he heals enough to defend himself.”

  Alan glanced toward the prone form of his lord on the bed. “Nay, we should not.”

  * * *

  Edeva jerked awake. She’d been dreaming. A familiar nightmare, where the manor was on fire and she could not get her feet to move so she could run to get help nor her mouth to scream out a warning.

  She sat up, realizing she was on a cot in the women’s area of the hall. The panic gradually subsided, until she remembered the other nightmare, the one that was real. Brevrienne was wounded.

  She jumped off the cot and hurried toward the stairs.

  The upper bedchamber was dark, lit only by the glow from the brazier beside the bed. Rob sat on a stool nearby “How fares he?” Edeva asked. “Did he wake?”

  “For a few moments only.”

  She leaned over and felt Jobert’s forehead, giving a sigh of relief as she found his skin cool and dry. Reluctantly, she drew her hand away. She wished she could touch him more freely, but the knight beside the bed inhibited her. She turned to Rob. “Leave us.”

  “My lady, Alan said that you should not be left alone with him.”

  “Fornay be damned! If I wished to harm him, why have I done all this?” She pointed to the bandage on Jobert’s shoulder.

  Rob still hesitated. She rounded on him “Go, I said! I would be alone with him!”

  “Spoken like a true hellcat.”

  Edeva gasped and faced the bed. “You’re awake!”

  “Barely.” Jobert gave a heavy sigh. “I heard your voice and knew that I was at Oxbury... at last.” He looked at Rob. “Do as she bids. That is an order.”

  For one second Rob paused, then he mumbled, “Milord,” and went out.

  “You should not have made them bring you here,” Edeva chided. “You should have stayed in Gloucester and let them tend you there. You nearly bled to death on the journey!”

  “Don’t scold me. I am too weak to endure the lash of your sharp tongue.”

  “I’m sorry.” Tears stung her eyes. He was right. Always she acted the shrew. Why could she not be a proper woman, gentle and meek?