One made it, scrambling through the screen doors, dropping most of his trophies, but de Treville sprang over another fallen trestle and engaged the other swiftly. Taken as much by surprise as Gisela’s former captor, the man took a thrust beneath the arm where his mailed hauberk was weakest and dropped with scarce a murmur and the clatter of metal cups as they fell from his hands.
Gisela had run towards Kenrick’s body. He was lying face down and, frantically, she tried to turn him, the tears she had held back till now streaming down her face.
De Treville reached her and bent down to draw her aside gently. “Let me.”
She sat back on her heels, mutely entreating him to inform her that Kenrick still lived. He turned the young man, noting grimly the gaping chest wound and blood soaking the rushes beneath him. His questing fingers sought the side of the neck for sign of a pulse and he looked up quickly to meet Gisela’s agonised gaze and gently shook his head.
“I am sorry.”
She let out a terrible sob and put one shaking hand to her lips.
“He died protecting you?”
She nodded mutely.
“Then you must be glad for him that he died a true man’s death, fighting for one he cared about.”
“I—I have known him all my life. He…he is Kenrick of Arcote…”
He nodded, rose to his feet and, slipping off his mantle, he covered Kenrick’s form after gently closing the staring eyes.
Gisela gave another great gulp of terror. She looked round wildly at the sprawled bodies. So far she had not been able to recognise individual servants, womenfolk and—and still—still—she had not identified her father.
De Treville put his hands to her shaking shoulders and drew her to her feet, then he led her to a bench, which he righted, and pushed her gently but firmly down upon it.
“Was your father at home?”
“I—I don’t know. He was out when—when I left about an hour ago. He could have returned.” Her eyes were searching those bodies near her.
Suddenly the shrill sound of a trumpet broke the deadly quiet that had struck the hall and she clutched at his sleeve desperately.
He reassured her. “My men. I sent for reinforcements the moment I saw the smoke. I was riding in Allestone wood.”
She shuddered as she thought that less than an hour ago Kenrick had been kissing her in Allestone wood and now she would never see him bend towards her, laughing again, hear his merry voice tell some joke about one of their neighbours. She thrust aside the thought and, with it, the gnawing pain of loss, and rose agitatedly.
“I must try and find my father and—and Aldith. Oh, sweet Virgin, for a while I forgot Aldith had been here at the manor. She may have perished with all the rest.”
The hall was beginning to fill with men who wore the blue chevron device of Allestone. The sergeant whom she remembered as the man she had challenged outside Aldith’s cottage came to salute his lord and, behind him, Gisela saw the young squire who had greeted her at Allestone castle, Huon.
Lord Alain directed his men about the grim business of assembling the corpses decently and arranging for prayers and, finally, burials.
“One of you ride to the village and find the priest. Tell him he is needed urgently. I want a search made for any wounded. We must take them for tending to Allestone and Sir Walter must be found.” He acknowledged Huon with a drawing together of his dark brows.
The youth said hastily, “I thought you might need me, my lord.”
“Well, since you are here, go with the other men and see what can be done for any survivors, then I shall want a complete report of all damage.” He nodded approvingly as the sergeant was already ordering a posse of men to deal with the still-smoking rafters. The fire could be checked but the damage was considerable.
Huon called to him as he made his way towards the hearth and the door near it that led up to the ladies’ bower. Here was the high trestle where Sir Walter and Gisela sat at meat. The trestle, like all the others, had been overturned and there were stains of blood upon the white linen cloth that had been laid upon it, as if a hand had grasped at it in an attempt to pull a body upwards after having fallen.
“My lord, I think I have found Sir Walter. He still lives, but is sorely wounded. He had fallen behind the table.”
Gisela gave a choking cry and made for the spot. Lord Alain followed her.
Her father was deathly pale; his eyes were closed and there was evidence of a great deal of blood loss. He had not been wearing mail and would have had little chance against his attackers.
Lord Alain stooped and discovered a seeping wound soaking the thigh and right leg. He gently cupped Sir Walter’s face between his two hands and then very lightly cuffed him upon the cheek in an attempt to rouse him to consciousness. The eyes flickered open, the injured man made an abortive effort to sit and was gently but firmly pushed back.
“Lie still, Sir Walter. We will check the bleeding and get you to a physician. Don’t try to move or speak for a moment. I think you may have suffered a blow to the head. Your daughter is here, safe. Do you know me, Alain de Treville? The attack is over and my men in control.”
Sir Walter gave a little bubbling sigh, clutched at Gisela’s hand as she knelt beside him and he could vaguely make out the shape of her beloved form, then he lapsed off into unconsciousness again.
Gisela sobbed but Lord Alain said quietly, “Do not concern yourself. He is better so. The leg may be broken and the setting can give agonising pain. He has lost a lot of blood but he should do well enough when we get him to Allestone. I have an excellent physician there who is used to dealing with battle injuries.”
“Oh, no,” she said brokenly, “surely to move him will make him worse? Can he not be put to bed here?”
He gestured up to the still-smoking and dripping rafters after the firefighters had done their work. “You cannot stay here, demoiselle, either of you. Those timbers may not be safe. You could have the roof down later and, in all events, that roof will not keep out bad weather. Your father needs shelter and careful tending. I will see to it that a stretcher is procured and he is taken very carefully to Allestone.”
She opened her mouth to protest but thought better of it. He was ripping up linen cloth from the table with hands and teeth and winding an improvised bandage tightly around her father’s leg, frowning in concentration. “This must not be too tight or stay on too long or it could cause trouble later. We must move him as quickly as we can now.” He stood up and called to two of his men, who hastened out to fashion a litter.
Gisela watched numbly as the Allestone men went about their work efficiently. As yet she could not tell how many of her own people had survived. She tried to pull her straying, grieving thoughts into some sort of order. She should be making arrangements for the care of the injured. If the house was not safe, where could they be accommodated?
Lord Alain returned to her and reached down a helping hand as she attempted to stand. Her legs were still shaking. She allowed him to take her by the shoulders and turn her and hold her close to his body.
She experienced a surge of utter thankfulness that he was here. She had never felt so comforted since she had been a child and Aldith had lifted her on to her knee and kissed away her tears after some minor accident. She felt an idiotic desire to just rest against him, close her eyes and allow him to take her to some place away from all this pain and ugliness where she could feel warm and safe.
Abruptly she pulled away. This would not do. She was no longer a child and Aldith—Aldith might even now lie stiffening somewhere…
As if in answer to her thoughts, a voice called to her from the direction of the screen doors, which had banged open suddenly.
“Demoiselle Gisela. Oh, dear God, no. Demoiselle Gisela…”
Relief flooded through Gisela. “Here, Aldith, I’m here,” she cried and the older woman dashed across and enfolded her mistress in her arms and rocked her to and fro in an anguished mixture of joy and distress at
what she had discovered here.
“I was in the village,” she cried. “I saw the smoke and started to run and then when I saw some of those men coming out of the gate laden down with goods and I thought—I thought…I ran and hid, Demoiselle Gisela. I’m sorry, but I was so frightened I couldn’t do anything—I know I should have come and…”
“You did quite the most sensible thing, Dame Aldith,” Lord Alain said firmly. “Had you not done so you would have been murdered as some of the other women have been and proved no use at all to your lady. Now she will be very glad of your tending.”
Aldith was patting Gisela’s bent head as they clung together.
“My master, Sir Walter?”
“Is injured, but I pray he will recover,” Lord Alain informed her. “But—” he glanced significantly at the figure shrouded in his mantle. “—I’m afraid Sir Kenrick of Arcote was killed bravely trying to defend your mistress. Someone must be sent to inform his people and allow them to make arrangements for masses to be said for him and for his burial. I will see to it that his body is guarded until he can be carried home.”
Gisela gave a great sob again and Aldith, whose face had expressed yet more shock and horror at the news, bent to whisper soft words of comfort.
Aldith then hastened off to pack necessities for her mistress once she had assured herself that Gisela could be left alone for some moments with the company of strange men from Allestone. She glanced briefly at Lord Alain as if assessing his character, then with a little nod she left the hall.
Lord Alain returned to Gisela’s side. “There are six fatalities, four men and two women. Several more of your women are in a distressed state and I have ascertained that they have kin in the village who could come and fetch them and accommodate them until it is fit and safe for them to return here. Two more of your men are quite seriously injured and should be conveyed to Allestone with your father. The rest can manage here, I think.
“Many have fled into the woods and will return later. As yet there is no word of your reeve, which is a pity. I had hoped he would take charge of the household, but I will leave one of my more reliable men to see to things here. Now we should leave. The litter is prepared and the sooner your father is being tended properly, the better.”
Aldith had returned with a bundle and he nodded approvingly. “I’ll see to it that one of my men takes you up pillion, Dame Aldith.”
“I can ride,” Gisela faltered.
“No,” he said decisively. “You are in no fit state to do so. You will ride with me.”
She was about to protest when the men appeared in the hall with the litter and she was more anxious about her father, as she moved to see that he was lifted carefully and placed comfortably amongst the skins and cushions the men had found, than wanting to argue with her imperious rescuer.
As they were about to leave, men arrived from Arcote. Obviously they had ridden hard and Gisela crossed to Kenrick’s reeve, who was looking hastily about the disordered hall for the whereabouts of his master’s body.
“I am so very sorry,” Gisela said chokingly. “Please convey my deepest condolences to Lady Eadgyth. How—how did she take—this terrible news?”
The man shook his head, his eyes misting with tears. “Demoiselle Gisela, I do not think she has realised it yet. I don’t think any of us have. He was—” he gulped “—a fine gentle master. We shall not see his like again. I’ve—ordered a bier prepared and all is at hand at Arcote to receive his body and—and the priest has arrived and will begin to say prayers—” He broke off and blinked rapidly as Lord Alain approached before adding, “I hear your father is hurt, not too seriously, I hope…”
“Seriously enough,” Lord Alain said grimly. “I warn you to keep a careful watch at Arcote. We have six dead here and several more injured and women ravished. If you’ve cause to fear attack, send to Allestone at once. There will be more of these raids, I’m afraid.”
“Aye, my lord.” The man looked to the wrapped form of his young master and took a step closer. “You can leave all to me, my lord, to see that all is arranged reverently. Thank you for all you did here.”
Gisela touched the older man’s hand just once in sympathy. She knew Kenrick was popular with all his household and this would be a terrible blow to them and was likely to kill Lady Eadgyth. Once she had composed herself somewhat after this shock and seen to her father’s care, she must go and speak with Kenrick’s mother, though how she would find the right words to express herself adequately, she did not know.
In the courtyard the Allestone men who were escorting the party home were seeing to their mounts. The litter carrying Sir Walter, who had stirred briefly, opened his eyes and then relapsed into unconsciousness again as Gisela bent over him and kissed his forehead, had already begun to make slow progress on its way back to the castle. A groom waited with Lord Alain’s destrier and another man was pulling Aldith up behind him. Her bundle had been taken by another.
Lord Alain mounted and reached down a hand to Gisela. “Do you need one of my men to lift you up?”
“No, no.” She put one foot up on to his stirrup and he easily lifted her and settled her before him in the saddle. She turned and gave a last look at her ravished home and he drew her close to his body with a supporting arm, drawing his fur-lined mantle around her.
“It is cold. You are shivering. We shall have you warm soon.”
She was still too upset to resist. It seemed that all effort to think for herself had deserted her. Again she felt comforted by the nearness of his strong body. The shock of Kenrick’s death was now beginning to make itself felt and her teeth chattered. She must not give way to tears again.
Was she responsible? Had she not met with Kenrick illicitly in Allestone wood, he would not have ridden with her to Brinkhurst—to his death. Lady Eadgyth, she was sure, would see it that way and yet—had not these two men come to her rescue…She was trembling so violently now as she began to comprehend the sheer horror of what would have been her fate had she been present at the beginning of the raid.
The man who held her close had saved her. Kenrick had died in the attempt. She felt sick and forced back the bile rising in her throat. She owed Lord Alain her life—and probably her father’s for, if he had lain untended in the hall, he would surely have died. Yet she was aware that his presence here and the debt she owed him placed her at a disadvantage in her dealings with him.
She was deeply grateful for his intervention, and for his responsible control of the situation, but she had an innate dislike of the man. He was like no other man she had met. Their first clash had stirred her to an awareness of his essential masculinity.
Other men had deferred to her, even her beloved father, and she knew Kenrick had worshipped her, yet from the first, Baron Alain de Treville had treated her with respect, but never once had he given in to her wishes—except in his judgement of Sigurd, and that mercy might well have been due to his own reasons for showing clemency rather than a desire to please her.
In their conversation within the castle courtyard after the incident with the puppy she had felt at a total loss. He had received her gratitude for his leniency towards Sigurd with quiet gravity but there were times when she could not understand his attitude towards her, his teasing which made her resistance to his wishes appear childish and worse—churlish.
She was too weary now to pull away from him, though his physical nearness disturbed her. His arm compelled her closeness; she was glad of the warmth of his body and the mantle, which shielded her from the damp chill of the approaching evening, enfolded her like protecting wings.
On their arrival at the castle Huon hastened to help her down and she was instantly conducted to the hall and a chair near the blazing hearth. Lord Alain swept off his mantle and placed it round her shaking shoulders, for her own garments were dirtied and torn during the struggle with her intended captor.
Wine and food were brought to her and Lord Alain moved off, murmuring that he intended to check on he
r father’s condition and he would return with news quickly. He also assured her that a chamber within the tower was being made ready for her and Aldith.
Servants scuttled about, attending to the needs of the new arrivals, but they kept a respectful distance between themselves and Gisela as if ordered to afford her the dignity and privacy she required.
Gisela felt too sick to eat but Aldith insisted.
“You must, dear heart. You will need your strength. Your father will need to rely on you for a while.”
Listlessly Gisela obeyed her and, meeting her former nurse’s enquiring look, hesitantly and very quietly told of her meeting with Kenrick and how he had ridden back to Brinkhurst with her and come by his death.
Aldith sighed heavily and glanced warily round the hall at the servants who were casting them curious looks.
“Mistress, I think you should not tell anyone else of this meeting. It would certainly do no good for Lady Eadgyth to discover the truth of it and I doubt if your father will wish the world at large to be informed of the circumstances. All it needs to be believed is that Sir Kenrick had come on a visit to the manor and naturally went to your defence as any man of honour would do.”
Gisela swallowed hard. “You think it should be kept from the Baron?”
Aldith avoided her gaze. “If your father is still of the intention of wedding you to him, yes.”
“Oh, no, Aldith, do not even think of it,” Gisela whispered agitatedly.
“Well,” Aldith said firmly, “he has proved himself a man of fine-tempered steel.”
She broke off as the Baron returned and came to Gisela’s side. “If you would like to come with me and see your father, you can question my physician yourself and be assured of his good judgement. Your attendant can be taken to prepare your chamber. I have arranged for a truckle to be taken in there for her use.”
The Baron's Bride Page 7
