Lonely is the Knight (Merriweather Sisters Time Travel Romance Book 3)

by Cynthia Luhrs

  “Thank you, lady. I don’t remember the last time I ate.”

  She sat down next to him and waited until he’d eaten a few bites before she asked, “Why do you refuse to leave the chapel?”

  “There are so many people outside. Too many people gathered together make me nervous.” He looked at her, his head bobbing up and down. “More nervous than I usually am, lady. You see, when I was a boy, I did not want to be a priest. But my father said it would be so, and here I am.”

  “I understand. When you were a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?”

  The man’s face brightened, and it was the first time Charlotte didn’t think he looked like a little mouse about to be pounced on by a big, hungry cat.

  “I wanted to raise bees and make mead. Bees make me happy.”

  “Their honey tastes delicious. Would you like me to talk to Henry? I’m sure he would agree to let you keep bees and make mead. He’s always looking to fill his storerooms full of spirits. And I know we could use our own supply of honey. I could make more cakes.”

  The little man looked horrified. “Nay, lady. Lord Ravenskirk would be most displeased. He must have a priest in the chapel.”

  “Henry will not be displeased. I heard one of the young men talking about how he wished to take his vows and become a priest. Perhaps you could help him and he could be our priest? Then you could tend your bees. Would that please you?”

  “More than you know, lady. I cannot thank you enough. Though if Timothy hears of it, he will tell the bishop and make trouble for you both.”

  As if saying the rotten man’s name out loud conjured it, there was a loud rumble. Charlotte looked up to see dust falling down, and the roof was shaking. Had their enemy finished putting together the trebuchet?

  Rubble rained down and Charlotte grabbed the priest by the arm. “We have to get out of here.” They ran for the door, almost reaching it before the roof collapsed. Charlotte yanked the priest by his robe as hard as she could. Turning back to the front of the chapel, they dove for the stone altar.

  She came to coughing. There was rubble and dust all around them. As Charlotte peered around, she could make out the walls of the chapel. When she looked up, she saw daylight. The entire roof had come down, practically on their heads.

  The stone altar had saved their lives. It was a heavy piece and carved with animals all the way around. She touched a finger to her pounding head. There was a bump on her forehead and her finger came away red. A piece of the roof must have hit her. Father Riley was moaning softly.

  “Are you hurt?”

  He whimpered. “My leg is trapped under the stone. Perhaps God does not want me to leave the priesthood.”

  “Nonsense. The chapel is old and the roof must have weakened. It had nothing to do with God. We must do what we feel called to do. You feel called to raise bees. Are they not God’s creatures?”

  The man nodded. “Mayhap you are right, lady.”

  “Let me see if I can get out of here and find help.” Charlotte tried to push against the stone, but it wouldn’t move. It seemed they were trapped under the altar. Everywhere she looked, nothing but rubble.

  With so many people about, all she had to do was wait. Though patience wasn’t one of her virtues. Thank goodness Father Riley was with her, otherwise she probably would have been curled up in a ball having a panic attack. But worrying over him kept her anxiety at bay.

  Charlotte called out, “Hello? Can anyone hear me? We’re trapped under the altar.” And she kept yelling, for she could hear voices. And among the voices she heard Henry. He would come for her. He was her knight in shining armor.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  A loud boom startled Henry. He turned in time to watch the roof of the chapel collapse. What happened? The trebuchet was not yet working.

  “Charlotte and Father Riley are in there,” he bellowed as he ran.

  All the battles he’d fought, all the danger he’d experienced in his score and seven years, nothing had prepared him for the feeling of watching the roof collapse while the woman he loved was inside.

  He loved her. Henry had broken the vow he’d made to himself. He muttered, “Let the priest live. I have need of his counsel.”

  Garrison knights and villagers ran to aid him.

  “Keep guards along the walls, but everyone else clear the rubble. Charlotte and Father Riley are trapped inside.”

  Henry listened. A weak voice called out for help. She was alive. His heart rejoiced.

  “Charlotte!” Henry bellowed. “I am coming for you.”

  When the roof fell, it took down the front door and wall. They would have to clear away the rubble piece by piece to get in.

  Addie looked up at him, tears running down her dirt-streaked face. “My lady is trapped inside. I should have been with her. I want to help.” She gestured to a group of children behind her. “We all want to help.”

  “All of you can pick up the small pieces and put them in piles near the walls.” It took everything he had, but Henry forced a smile to his face. “We’ll use them to throw over the walls. Each of you can throw a bucket on the enemy when we’re done. Would you like that?”

  The children cheered, slightly lifting his spirits. They got to work quickly running back and forth, picking up the smallest pieces, leaving Henry and his men along with the others to move the larger stones.

  He stretched, wiping the sweat from his brow. They’d labored through the morning and cleared the front of the chapel.

  Henry pulled his tunic over his head. He accepted a bucket of water from the well, dumped it over his head, and shook his hair. Much better.

  “My lord, one of the men heard voices. It sounds as if they are near the altar. There’s a large stone trapping them. We’re going to need many men to move it.”

  The men surrounded the stone from the roof. They took hold and pushed with all their might, grunting with the effort. As he strained, Henry felt the stone shift. It shifted a bit more, and with a great heave, he and the men lifted it enough to move it. “To the left, man.”

  Agonizingly slowly, they moved the stone. It was almost clear when two of the men from the village stumbled, losing their grip. Henry cursed as the edge raked down his thigh. Warmth trickled down his leg. There’d be time to tend to it later.

  “Make ready. Put it down.” The stone hit the dirt, sending up a cloud of dust. Henry and the men stood doubled over, hands on their knees, panting from the effort. But they had done it. There was no time to rest. His voice rough, Henry said, “I’m coming, my love.”

  The children cleared the smaller stones. There was an opening. One of the children called out, “I see them.” The boy was small enough to crawl through the opening, his excited voice carrying to them.

  “Our lady is unharmed. But Father Riley believes his leg broken. There’s a big stone on his leg and our lady cannot move it.”

  Everyone continued to work, clearing the rest of the stone. It was late afternoon by the time they reached the altar. Henry pushed forward. “Charlotte. Where are you?”

  “Under the altar. I’m coming.” As he held his breath, she emerged, covered in dust, looking like a corpse. She wobbled. He swung her up into his arms.

  “You saved me.”

  “I told you, I will always be there.” Henry wiped his eye. “’Tis dust from the rubble, nothing more,” he said gruffly.

  “Father Riley is trapped. His leg is broken.”

  Henry turned so she could see the stone being removed. Men from the village carried Father Riley out.

  Henry put his hand on the priest’s shoulder. “I am glad you are alive.”

  The priest replied without stuttering, without trembling, his voice strong and clear. Henry gaped at the man.

  “While we were trapped, God spoke to me. He told me I am not meant to be a priest. I will tend to the bees and make mead.” Father Riley pulled on Henry’s arm. Henry put Charlotte down. They both leaned in to hear what the man had to say.


  “Please, my lady. This is for his ears only.”

  Charlotte held up her hands and backed away. “By all means.”

  Henry leaned close to the priest.

  “He gave me a message for you, my lord. Your vow is not broken. It was never a true vow, only a childish thought. You will not repeat the past.” The man fainted as Henry caught him.

  “We will need a new priest.” Royce slapped Henry on the back. “I love mead.” Then his face turned grave. “Blood. Are you injured, my lady?”

  Charlotte patted herself. “I am unharmed. Just scared.” She looked down and gasped. “Henry, that’s your blood, not mine.”

  He was having a difficult time hearing her. “The stone cut me when we were moving it. ’Tis naught but a scratch.”

  He swept her up into his arms again, carrying her inside the castle and up to their chamber. Henry laid her on the bed.

  “A bath is being prepared. I will have food sent up.” As he turned to go, he could see two of everything. Henry blinked to clear his vision, but ’twas no use. Was he going blind? It was his last thought before he fell.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Charlotte didn’t know how anything else could possibly go wrong. Henry went down like a marionette with its strings cut. She leapt from the bed, tried to rouse him, and, with no response, ran into the hallway. Chester leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

  “Henry fell. There’s blood everywhere and I can’t get him to the bed.”

  Chester bellowed down the hallway, and two more men came running. They lifted Henry, Chester swept off the desk with one swoop of his arm, and the men laid him on top.

  “Why the desk?” She looked to the bed. “Oh, so he doesn’t bleed all over the sheets.”

  A sound like thunder made her cringe.

  Chester looked out the window. “Do not worry, lady. The walls are thick. They will hold.”

  “I hope so.”

  Henry was mumbling and moaning. When she touched his forehead, the heat radiated through her fingers. Charlotte looked down to see the entire left side of his body was wet. She touched his hose, her fingers coming away bright red.

  Chester stepped forward, pulled a blade from his belt, and slit Henry’s hose up the leg. She clapped a hand over her mouth, her entire body going cold as if she’d gone swimming in the ocean in winter.

  His thigh was cut from above his knee to his groin. The wound looked dirty. She could see small pebbles and dirt inside the flesh.

  Charlotte ran to the garderobe, barely making it in time as she threw up. She’d thought she was getting better at handling the sight of blood, had helped patch up the men and villagers’ minor scratches. But seeing such an awful wound on someone you loved was completely different.

  Grateful there were rags to wipe her mouth, Charlotte splashed water over her face and came back into the chamber, trying to breathe through her mouth. A tiny old woman, a skilled healer from what Charlotte had seen, was examining Henry, mumbling.

  “Heat water over the fire and bring me clean cloths.” She rummaged in the sack she’d brought with her, and the smell of herbs filled the air.

  “Tell me what I can do to help.” Charlotte was shaking so badly she wasn’t sure how much help she would be, but Henry had saved her life and she would do everything she could to help him.

  “You are his lady. Speak softly to him as I clean the wound.” She motioned to Chester and the other men. “We will require a fourth man to hold him still.”

  Chester blanched, and Charlotte thought her face must look the same. Without a word, he turned and left the room. It seemed like seconds later he returned with another man.

  “I have informed the captain. We must not let everyone know how grave his injuries are.”

  The woman poured the herbs into the water. A man brought the alcohol she’d requested. She looked up at them. “Hold him still.”

  The healer opened the bottle, the pungent fumes filling the room. When she poured the liquid over the wound, Henry arched up, screaming, before he fell back again, unconscious.

  One of the men looked nervous. “Is it the fever sickness?”

  Chester rolled his eyes. “’Tis his leg, dolt.”

  To know Henry was in so much pain and she couldn’t make it better, she wished there was a hospital nearby—and with that thought, Charlotte remembered. The antibiotics.

  As soon as she was alone, she would get them and give them to Henry. This definitely qualified as an emergency.

  The woman cleaned the wound and Charlotte had to look away. Henry cried out, cursed in several languages, making the men chuckle, and then fell silent again. It was repeated over and over. Charlotte wondered where she’d learned to do such a thing. As if the healer heard her thoughts, she met her eyes and said, “An old priest in a monastery told me about foul humors that enter the body. He said using alcohol on needles or anything that touches a wound will prevent foul humors.”

  Was another traveler here? Or simply a learned man? Likely she would never know, but the thought wouldn’t leave her mind. If she and her sisters had managed to travel through time, why wouldn’t there be others? It was too bad there wasn’t a way for them all to come together and talk. There had to be so much they could learn from each other.

  Candles were brought into the room and lit as the old lady stitched up the wound and bandaged it. Charlotte dipped the cloth into cool water and placed it on Henry’s forehead, repeating as his fever warmed the rag. One of the kitchen girls brought food to the chamber. Her stomach rumbled. When had she last eaten? Maybe breakfast?

  After the woman finished, she patted Charlotte on the arm. “Make him drink a cup every few hours. He may not keep it down, but you must keep trying. Three days. That is all I can do.”

  Charlotte took the woman’s hands. “I don’t know how to thank you. What payment is required?”

  The woman gave her a quizzical look. “Payment?”

  Charlotte nodded. The healer smiled, showing a few missing teeth. “Lord Ravenskirk has always been good to me. There is no money required. I shelter here while the enemy is outside. Though perhaps I might harvest herbs from the gardens?”

  “Of course. Take whatever you need.” Charlotte hoped she wasn’t overstepping her bounds. “You said you live in the village. We don’t have a healer in residence. Would you consider living here and being the castle healer?”

  The woman beamed at her. “I have a daughter, and she has three bairns. They would live with me.”

  “Yes. They are most welcome. We will find proper accommodations for everyone once this is over with.”

  “You are a strong woman, Lady Ravenskirk. Our lord has chosen well.” She gathered up her things and shuffled toward the door. She turned and looked back at Charlotte. “Call if you have need of me.”

  Charlotte looked to the men in the room. “Thank you all for helping. I do not want to alarm the people. Too many already know. Can we keep this quiet?”

  Chester said, “They know he was injured, but not how greatly. I will say he is resting and you are attending to him, lady. The rest are loyal and will not gossip.”

  “I’ll stay with him. You must be hungry. Go and eat.”

  The men quietly left the room, and Charlotte was finally alone with him. Henry was still unconscious. Every once in a while he would moan and call out. She dipped a ladle into the cauldron, pouring the brew into a cup. She could put the antibiotics in the drink.

  Certain she was alone at last, Charlotte went to the trunk at the bottom of the bed. She opened it and pulled out her messenger bag. It seemed so long ago she’d left North Carolina for London. She dumped the contents on the bed and sorted through them, looking for a small cloth bundle.

  “No, no, no.” She unwrapped the small glass vial. She’d been so certain Henry would be fine when she gave him antibiotics. But somehow the lid must’ve come loose, and she was now looking at what looked like cloudy seawater. She twisted the lid off and sniffed
. It smelled salty. Was it possible any of the antibiotic was left?

  She touched her finger to the liquid and then to her tongue. It tasted salty, not bitter, as she’d expected it to. She looked at Henry. Likely it wouldn’t kill him. Before she could think about it too long, Charlotte dumped it into the mug. If you’re up there listening, Aunt Pittypat, please don’t let him die.

  Charlotte lifted his head up. “Wake up, Henry. You must wake.”

  His eyes fluttered and opened partway. She held the cup to his mouth. “It’s going to taste terrible, but you have to drink it.”

  She poured half of the brew down his throat before he started coughing and sputtering. As she waited for the fit to subside, she pleaded, “Just a little bit more.”

  She got the rest of it down and sat back exhausted. All she could do now was wait. Thank goodness it was growing dark. The assault on the walls had stopped for the night. Charlotte had heard the boom every time something from the trebuchet hit the walls. How quickly she’d grown used to the thundering. Now the absence of sound made her notice it had stopped. If they didn’t find a way out of this, eventually the walls would fall. And she didn’t want to think on the hand-to-hand battle that would come after.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  It had been three days since the assault on the walls. Charlotte’s nerves were frayed with the constant worry the wall would fall and they would face a battle. She knew the big history events, knew the Black Plague happened during this century, but she’d never really given much thought to small skirmishes or battles. She naïvely assumed it wouldn’t happen to her. And now here she was in the middle of a small war.

  At times like this, she missed the modern world. Missed her boring job, people grouchy as they waiting in line at the grocery store, judging the contents of other shoppers’ baskets.

  She’d taken a bath and dressed in clean clothes for the first time in—well, she couldn’t remember, but knew she smelled pretty ripe when she finally had time for a bath. Charlotte sat down next to Henry, taking his hand in hers. It was funny. Coming to love someone after you were already married to them. But that was exactly what had happened to her. She had a crush on him at the beginning, which developed into friendship, and then into something more. He married her out of his chivalrous knightly vows. But now…she thought he was coming to love her too.