Super Summer Set of Historical Shorts

by Laurel O'Donnell

  She completely ignored him. “I thought you were in a hurry. If he dies . . . .

  “He has nothing but a fever,” Tristan said, and then added, “I shall not take another step until you answer me.”

  Noelle sighed and folded her arms. Her brother was as stubborn as she was, and she could see that they were not getting anywhere, and they were losing time. Fevers could be serious, so she needed to go to Nicholas. “All right. I don’t know how I feel about Sir Nicholas other than I find his company pleasant. There,” she said and squared her shoulders. “Are you satisfied?”

  “Aye.” Tristan gave her a wicked grin. “We will talk more later.”

  Noelle successfully brushed past Tristan this time and into the corridor. “Not if I can help it.” She heard Tristan chuckle and his good humor at her expense didn’t help her disposition one bit. The man knew her too well.

  She followed Tristan’s lead and was surprised when they started to climb the tower’s stairs. “When did the fever start?”

  “I’m not sure. Dirk was grumbling about Nicholas’s wet clothing. With the weather so frigid, he has probably caught the grippe.”

  “It was the damp jacket,” Noelle said as she followed her brother. “I tried to warn him, but he had nothing else to wear.”

  Tristan turned and waited for her. “It seems, then, that you’re the reason Sir Nicholas is unwell.”

  Noelle slanted a glance at her brother. “Thank you for making me feel so much better.”

  Noelle left her brother and climbed the remaining circular stone staircase to the tower. As in most castles, the stairs turned in a clockwise direction so men could fight with their right hands and still climb if they so needed. Noelle and her brothers had played on the stairway at Cranborne when they were children, and this one was no different.

  The door to Nicholas’s chamber stood ajar, but Noelle couldn’t see inside. She took a deep breath, pushed the door open, and entered the room.

  Matilda, an expression of concern on her face, was placing quilts over Nicholas. The old woman seemed to have a soft spot in her heart where he was concerned and Noelle thought that was sweet. After all, she had raised him when he was a boy.

  Dirk was down on one knee beside the hearth, building a fire. The room was sparely furnished and quite cold. One very large bed a small brown table, and a straight-backed chair were the only pieces of furniture in the small chamber.

  Dirk had just placed a final log on the fire when he turned her way. “Milady, yer brother tells me ye have the gift of healing.”

  “Aye.” Noelle nodded at Dirk, but then her gaze went right back to Nicholas, who wasn’t moving at all. Noelle bustled over to him. Placing her hand on his forehead, she found he burned with fever. She opened the drawstring on her brown leather bag, dug around in the pouch, and pulled out a small cloth sack. “Matilda, will you take this bit of barley and bring it to a boil? Drain it, then bring the barley to a boil a second time. After you have finished, bring the mixture to me with some honey and a chalice.” Noelle thought a moment, trying to remember if there was anything else. Her eyes never left the old woman, who looked as worried as Noelle felt. “Do you understand, or must I repeat it for you?”

  “Nay, milady. You seem to know what you are about. Therefore, I shall leave Sir Nicholas in your capable hands,” Matilda paused. “He is a fine man, milady. Let nothing happen to him,” Matilda said, then went to get the things that Noelle needed.

  Noelle smiled. Matilda seemed to display a motherly attitude for the brave knight. At least Nicholas had someone.

  After the servant had left, Dirk moved over to the bed. “I removed his damp clothing, milady. I have sent for dry clothes.” Dirk slowly shook his head as he looked at Nicholas. “I have never seen him so sick before. It is usually the other men feeling poorly.”

  “I tried to warn him not to put on that damp garment, but he is a stubborn man, and had nothing else. I feel guilty that he has gotten sick because of me,” Noelle admitted.

  “Nicholas is an honorable man, milady. He would never leave ye unprotected no matter how uncomfortable he might be. It was this damnable unexpected weather that made him ill, not ye.”

  Noelle couldn’t help reaching and touching Nicholas’s forehead again. Was it out of duty that he had been so gentle with her?

  “His fever might last a couple of days,” she said, realizing her voice sounded choked. “But I’ll stay with him until he is well and back on his feet again.”

  Dirk bowed to Noelle. “Then I will be in yer debt, milady.”

  Noelle smiled at Dirk. He was a huge man, even bigger than Nicholas, and she felt very small next to him. But to be so commanding in size, she sensed that Dirk had a gentle side that he kept hidden. “You must think a great deal of Sir Nicholas.”

  “I have been with him nigh on four years, now. We’ve fought side by side in many battles. He has my loyalty,” Dirk said, and then gave her a peculiar look.

  “What?” Noelle asked.

  Dirk smiled before saying, “Ye don’t look as contrary as Tristan said.”

  Noelle laughed. “You don’t know me very well.”

  “It is the same thing Tristan said.” Dirk chuckled. “If ye don’t need me, I’ll check on the men.”

  Matilda entered the room as Dirk left, followed by Noelle’s ladies-in-waiting. Of course, Isabelle stopped and smiled at Dirk. “I might need your help as we finish our decorating,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes at him. “Those big, strong arms can help with our Yule log, I have no doubt.”

  “I would be most happy to help ye at any time, fair lady,” Dirk said with a slight bow. He lifted Isabelle’s hand to his lips. “Ye have but to name the time and place.”

  “Tomorrow, then,” Isabelle said in a breathy whisper. Then she turned and swept into the room with a smile that seemed brighter than the sun.

  As Noelle was draining the barley, with Matilda’s help, Carolyn looked at Isabelle. “I see you have given up on Sir Lancelot.”

  “Aye. His loyalty lies with the queen, and he pays attention to none other. But you must agree that Dirk is a fine and brawny man, and I think he might like me just a little.”

  “Greetings, ladies.” Noelle smiled at them as she mixed the barley and honey together until it was a smooth consistency. “I take it you have not missed me today.”

  “On the contrary,” Carolyn said. “At least, I missed you. Isabelle had a hard time not gawking at the knights and their squires.”

  “I did not,” Isabelle said quickly. Then she added, “Well, mayhap one or two.”

  “Ladies,” Noelle said gaining their attention. “I need your assistance. If you both will take Nicholas by the shoulders and tilt him up, I must get this potion into him. It will do him no good in the bowl.” Both women took a place on either side of Nicholas. After much tugging, they managed to get him to a sitting position.

  Isabelle grunted. “He weighs many stones.”

  Matilda handed Noelle the chalice, which she held to Nicholas’s lips. He tried to turn away from the lip of the cup.

  “Do not,” Noelle murmured and soothed him until she managed to get some of the mixture into his mouth. And just in time too, for Nicholas began to thrash, sending both ladies away from him and onto the floor. Carolyn landed on her backside.

  “He is no weakling, even in his sleep,” Carolyn said, rubbing her bottom as she got up.

  Noelle sighed. “Matilda, I’ll need fresh water later.”

  Matilda nodded. “I will go fetch some and will come back to check on you later, milady.”

  Noelle nodded. “Thank you.”

  Once Matilda had gone, Carolyn said, “We heard that your ankle is much better.”

  “What is the matter with Sir Nicholas?” Isabelle asked at the same time.

  “My ankle is much better,” Noelle said to Carolyn, then she looked at Isabelle. “Sir Nicholas has caught fever,” Noelle answered. “Did you finish decorating the Great Hall?”
/>   “All but the church,” Isabelle said. “We ran out of greenery.”

  “I can help with the greenery.”

  Isabelle grinned. “You seem to get lost when we let you out of our sight.”

  Carolyn giggled, too. “And look who she came home with! Only the finest knight in the kingdom.” Carolyn nudged Isabelle. “Not only that, but she spends the night with him, and we haven’t had the chance to ask her one question about her adventure.”

  “Tell . . . tell,” Isabelle said.

  “I was lost. Sir Nicholas was searching for his falcon, and he found both of us.”

  “And . . .” Isabelle prompted.

  “There is nothing else. The weather was so icy that it was too dangerous to return, so we found a small hut and stayed there out of the sleet and snow until morning.”

  “It must have been horribly frightening,” Carolyn said.

  “And cold,” Isabelle added. “How did you stay warm?”

  Noelle felt herself blush as her inquisitive friends continued to ask their pointed questions. “We shared my cloak,” she answered simply. It was the truth. As far as it went.

  Nicholas moaned, drawing Noelle’s attention. “No more questions, ladies. Nicholas is very sick, and needs my full attention.”

  “You are going to let us wonder and imagine all kinds of things?” Carolyn asked.

  “No, ladies. We did nothing but sleep. Now, go away if you are not going to help. I have more important things to do at the moment. Now be off.” Noelle waved them away. “Go and pray that our own Nicholas recovers soon.”

  “We will, milady,” Carolyn assured her.

  "Our Nicholas?” Isabelle’s eyebrows shot up. “Should we tell Sir Gavin anything?”

  Noelle frowned at the reminder. “Nay. You two can keep him company. Now go.”

  When they reached the door, Isabelle turned back and looked at Noelle. “Have you found the one?”

  Noelle looked at her all-knowing friend. “I do not know,” she said simply. “I honestly do not know.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Noelle watched Nicholas. His breathing seemed normal, and that was good, but his fever was still high.

  He didn’t seem to be responding to any of her herbal medicines. She’d given him twice as much as she would a normal man, but then Nicholas was more man than most. She was impatient for him to recover, and this waiting made her feel like she was falling apart inside.

  His fever still raged; she kept bathing him down with cool, damp cloths, but he just lay as still as death. She didn’t like that.

  He was much too still.

  Nicholas needed to fight the fever because she’d done all she knew how to do. She was going to try the barley once more, but it was really too soon.

  Noelle’s head felt so heavy she could hardly hold it up. Her eyes burned and she felt like weeping, which would do no good. It would only show her weakness. Perhaps if she could lay her head on the bed for just a minute, she’d feel better. She placed her hand on Nicholas’s arm so she would know if he moved or needed her, and then she laid her head on her arm.

  In no time, much-needed sleep overtook her.

  Somewhere in the wee hours of morning, Nicholas jerked and shouted, bringing Noelle out of a hard sleep. He was thrashing back and forth so much that she was afraid he’d hurt himself.

  Nicholas’s arm caught Noelle across the chest and sent her tumbling to the floor. Quickly, she scrambled to her feet. If he got much wilder, she’d have to tie him to the bed or knock him over the head.

  Going over to the small table, she wet the cloth and wrung it out before moving back to the bed. She tried to place the cloth on Nicholas’s feverish forehead, but he was fighting everything she did. She looked around frantically. Maybe a good whack over the head would help. But Nicholas’s voice stopped her.

  “Mother, why are you so mean to Father?” Nicholas muttered in a childlike voice. Noelle went completely still at the sound.

  “But we love you,” he pleaded.

  Noelle watched the strong knight, now reduced to a helpless child as he tossed and turned. Not only was he fighting fever, he was fighting his dreams. Just what secret hell was Nicholas reliving? She realized he must be remembering something from his childhood, some demon that had haunted him for a very long time. Noelle wanted to help him, but she didn’t know what to do. Would Nicholas start talking again so she could find out what plagued him?

  Her question was answered as he once again began his incoherent speech. Noelle held his hand as she listened struggling to make sense of the words.

  Nicholas knew he must be in Hell because nothing less could produce this insufferable heat. Something cool brushed his forehead from time to time, but it wasn’t enough.

  He needed relief!

  The next thing Nicholas knew he was falling, and he couldn’t stop as the black hole jumped up to swallow him.

  And then there were the flames.

  Flames everywhere.

  Once again, Nicholas was a small boy running through the castle in search of his mother. He was afraid of the fire, and he wanted to leave. But not without her.

  Not without his mother.

  “Mother,” he called frantically. Not receiving an answer, he raced down the corridor away from the fire, but something stopped him. He turned back. His mother stood at the end of the long corridor, a torch in her hand while flames shot all around her.

  Nicholas started toward her. “Come with me, Mother. I shall save you.”

  “No, Nicholas, it is too late. Everything was wonderful until you came here. Then everything changed. You are the cause of all this, Nicholas. You do not deserve to be loved.”

  “I’m sorry, Mother,” he cried. “What did I do? I will do anything you say. I will make it better. I promise.”

  But the flames caught the hem of her dress and engulfed her. Her screams were so shrill that Nicholas had to put his hands over his ears to shut out the sound. The jest was on him, for he still heard the screams every night in his dreams. Tears streamed down his face. “I’m sorry,” he cried out again and fled the burning castle.

  Many of the servants had made it safely outside and stood in small clumps, staring at the blazing flames. Nicholas recognized one of the serfs as Rogers.

  “Where is Father?” Nicholas asked.

  “He never came out, lad,” Rogers said and placed an arm around Nicholas who, by now, was sobbing.

  “I couldn’t get Mother to come out. It is all my fault,” he wailed.

  “Nay, child. Sorry as I am to say it, your mother is daft and evil. She has brought misery to this household. I just pray that you have inherited your father’s blood instead of the tainted blood of your mother.”

  Nicholas straightened and stared at what used to be his home. Why had his mother not loved him? Had she always been sick?

  Had he been the cause of her illness as she had said? No, that could not be. Still, the pain inside was hard to bear. But he would show her. He would show them all.

  When the pain inside Nicholas hurt so bad that he wanted to scream and fall to his knees, he stood tall. He never wanted to feel such pain again. To love someone was much too painful; therefore he would avoid love in the future. After all, his blood could be tainted; Rogers had said so.

  Wiping the tears from his cheeks, Nicholas vowed he would never cry again. He was but ten years old and all alone.

  It was time he was a man.

  Nicholas squeezed Noelle’s hand so tight that she feared he’d break her bones. He tossed his head back and forth on the pillow, trying to flee the demons that plagued him.

  Noelle studied his face as he frowned, and she thought she saw the boy he spoke of. Nicholas’s lashes and cheeks were damp from tears. Her cheeks were streaked from her own tears as they had tumbled down her face. Noelle didn’t want to let go of Nicholas’s hand long enough to wipe them away.

  She sensed that he desperately needed comfort though he said otherwise.

 
Through Nicholas’s delirious mumbling, Noelle had been able to piece the story together. What pain Nicholas had gone through! She’d give anything to take his pain away.

  Finally, she pried her fingers loose so she could get a damp cloth. His lips looked parched. She sat on the edge of the bed so she could reach him more easily. After she had wiped his face, she reached up and touched his cheek, running her hand down the side of his jaw.

  He was magnificent. Even when ill and wracked with fever.

  He bore a couple of scars, probably from the battles he’d been in, but they only added character to his features.

  Gently, Noelle wiped the tears from his cheeks. She shut her eyes and prayed that his fever would ease soon.

  “Milady.” Nicholas’s voice, weak and tired came out of nowhere, and Noelle looked at him. He stared back at her. “You are so good, and I am evil. You should stay away from me for I will only bring you pain.”

  “Nicholas, you know not of what you speak.”

  Slowly, he smiled. “Since you are in my dreams, are you not going to kiss me?”

  Noelle smiled. First he warned her to stay away from him, and now he wanted to kiss her. The man was not only delirious, he was very fickle.

  Noelle knew that Nicholas was still out of his head and knew nothing of what he said but it was a tempting invitation. She looked at the door. It was shut, so who would know? Besides, Nicholas would never remember when he was well once again. And it would be an easy way to satisfy her curiosity.

  So Noelle leaned over and placed a light kiss on Nicholas’s lips. His mouth was warm but dry beneath her lips, and she was a bit surprised when his arms came up around her and pulled her on top of him. Evidently, he still possessed some measure of strength, even in his weakened condition.

  Noelle knew she should get out of this sinful position, but curiosity bade her stay put as she opened her mouth to taste him.

  The kiss was passionate and just as wonderful as she remembered from the lake. His mouth moved in slow hunger. It was a kiss that made her moan with all the desire she felt for him.