Eyes closed, Emily lay still and pale upon the bed. “It aches, but it is not terrible,” she said. “It has eased somewhat. It is manageable.”
Lillibet felt as badly as she possible could for the young wife. She and David had been so thrilled about the child, about the new life they had created and the legacy of a new de Lohr on the horizon. Now that dream was dead. She went to the bed and put her soft, warm hand on Emilie’s head.
“I will send for the physic,” she said quietly. “You will lay there and rest.”
Emilie reached up and grasped Lillibet’s hand before the woman could get away. “Wait,” she said. “Do not send for him now. Wait… wait until David leaves.”
Lillibet lifted her eyebrows in mild surprise. “Why?” she asked.
Emilie shook her head, her watery eyes opening. “Because this child is all he can speak of,” she said, sniffing. “Right now, David is happy and preparing to see a brother whom he thought he had lost. If… if I tell him of this, it will crush him. He may not even go. And he must go. There is nothing he can do if he remains with me, although he will want to. I know he will.”
“Then you will not tell him?”
“Not now.”
Lillibet simply touched her forehead in a comforting and understanding gesture. “As you wish,” she said. “He will not hear of it from me.”
Emilie closed her eyes again. “Thank you.”
“I will fetch you a hot brew now. You need your rest.”
Emilie didn’t say anything more. She knew that David would soon be looking for her, as he would be ready to depart, and she was feeling particularly weak and achy. More than that, she was still trying to absorb the fact that she was no longer with child.
It was true that she had been moderately achy for a few days and had mentioned it to Lillibet, as she had told David. But clearly she had not considered that her aches and pains were a sign of things to come. It had never crossed her mind. But it was evident that those aches were a harbinger of doom, the death of something that was very important to both her and David. She hoped that he wouldn’t blame her for the loss or, worse, somehow blame himself. But she knew the man well enough to know that he would not become angry with her, for it was not her fault. As Lillibet said, it was God’s will.
God’s will that her son should die.
So she lay upon the bed, silent tears falling for the child she would never hold in her arms. She was so sad and very miserable, and at some point must have dozed off because she awoke to David entering their chamber. His expression upon her was one of great concern.
“What are you doing up here?” he said. “I have been looking everywhere for you. We are about to depart and I want you to see me off.”
Emilie didn’t want to get up; the ache was still there, although considerably lessened, but she was afraid of what would happen if she stood up. Already, Lillibet thought she’d lost her child but what if she hadn’t? What if he was barely hanging on and standing up might dislodge him completely? They were wild thoughts, but thoughts nonetheless. She smiled wanly at David’s serious face.
“I am so very tired,” she said. “I fear the child is taxing me greatly. May… May I see you off right now? Would that disappoint you terribly?”
David shook his head and went to his knees beside the bed, wrapping her up in his big arms, which were cold because of the mail he wore.
“It would not disappoint me at all,” he said. “I am sorry you are feeling so poorly. Is there anything you need before I go?”
Emilie had her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. “Nay,” she murmured. “Lillibet is here. She will take great care of me. And you must leave, my darling. Your brother is waiting.”
He pulled his face from the crook of her neck, looking down into her pale face. Her eyes were red, he noticed, and he peered more closely at her. “What is wrong?” he asked, stroking her cheek. “You look as if you have been weeping.”
A lump came to Emilie’s throat but she fought it. “I have not,” she lied, her voice hoarse. “I… I am simply weary. A baby is very tiresome.”
He smiled and kissed the tip of her nose before kissing her lips, sweetly. “I am sorry, my sweet,” he said, hearing no real hint in her voice of the distress that was in her heart. “You are a strong and brave woman. I will send you a message as soon as I meet up with my brother. Jesus, even as I say it I can still hardly believe it. It does not seem real that I will be seeing my brother soon.”
“It will be real enough when you see him.”
He chuckled. “I suppose so,” he said. His humor faded. “You will rest and take care of yourself. Do you understand? I want you and my son healthy when I return.”
The tears came then but she pulled him close, hugging him to hide the tears as she blinked them away. “I will do my very best,” she said. “And you will take great care of yourself and return to me sound and whole. I will be very angry if you do not.”
He laughed softly, kissing her cheek and lips again before letting her go and standing up. Emilie looked him over; he was dressed for battle in his mail and Canterbury tunic. Her heart was so proud that she thought it might burst, aching for this man, this knight, that meant everything to her.
“My steel warrior,” she murmured in approval. “You look as if you are made of steel. You look invincible.”
The smile never left his face as he tightened his gloves. “I am,” he said. “I have you and my son to come home to. That makes me indestructible.”
Emilie lifted a finger to her lips, blowing him a kiss. “Be safe, my darling,” she murmured. “I love you very much.”
His smile softened. “And I, you,” he said. “Take great care. I shall return as soon as I can.”
“Safe travels.”
“Thank you.”
With that, he was gone, through the door and down the stone steps. She could hear his boots as he made his way down, crashing against the stone, until the sound finally faded. Then, and only then, did she let more tears for their loss fall.
As the army departed Canterbury under the command of Sir David de Lohr, Baron Broxwood, Emilie found herself praying steadily for him. Prayers that would keep him safe so that he would return to her, as he’d promised. She didn’t regret not telling him about the child because she knew had been the right thing to do; he would find out soon enough, and he would mourn soon enough. For now, let him be joyful with the return of his brother. That was the way she looked at it.
Let the man feel the elation with his brother’s resurrection before knowing the pain of a child lost.
PART FOUR
AND SO, IT ENDS….
“Recks not, sire, by what death we die:
Good never came from counsel of pride,
List to the wise, and let madmen bide.”
~ Song of Roland c. 1040 A.D.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
South of Nottingham
October Year of our Lord 1194 A.D.
Never was a mightier army to be assembled.
Christopher, Marcus and Richard intercepted the army riding from Somerhill and took command of the nine hundred man force. With the additional fifteen hundred men riding north from Windsor, they would not only lay siege to Nottingham; they would mow it to the ground.
Richard made the decision to wait for his army from Windsor. Christopher highly disapproved of the conclusion, but he was unsuccessful to convince his king otherwise. Marcus actually became quite irate and he and Richard had exchanged angry words. For a change, Christopher had had to separate the two of them.
Richard’s logic was simple; he believed Dustin to be fairly safe and saw no need to go charging in and risk a great number of casualties. With the troops from Windsor, mayhap the casualties would be minimal simply because of the sheer number of men. Additionally, Dustin was not the primary concern; Richard intended to regain Nottingham for the crown and he knew he must show overwhelming force. When mercenary French soldiers returned to Philip Augustus afte
r seeing battle with the returned King of England, he wanted the French king to know that Richard the Lionheart would not tolerate French meddling in his country.
So they waited outside of the village of Grantham, a little over twenty miles to the east of Nottingham. Camp was set up and the wait for the army from Windsor was met with impatience by all. Christopher was nearly insane with grief and worry, but he knew that within two days, they would be marching for Nottingham and for his family. Until then, he was helpless.
Marcus got a grip on himself and was handling the wait better than Christopher. He and Christopher would talk of items that related to the battle, but that was the extent of their contact. For two men who had shared a tent for three years, it was a little strange being without the camaraderie and support of one another. They would gaze at each other across the compound, eyes meeting sometimes, but with no emotion. Yet even with the hurt and jealousy and anger, each man sensed an unfillable void the other had left within him, although they would not admit it. The pain of losing one’s best friend was too deep for words.
On the second day of camp, an army was sighted riding in from the south and immediately the battle cry went up. Marcus expertly set up skirmish lines under the eagle-eyes of Richard and Christopher as they studied the incoming troops.
“Now who in the hell could this be?” Richard mumbled.
Christopher could see colors being flown, but they were too far away. He tightened his reins. “We shall soon find out.”
The dark brown destrier charged forward, kicking up great clods of dirt as Christopher ran at break-neck speed down the slight incline before leveling out on the flat, grassy land. As Christopher drew closer, he could see that there were no more than three hundred men and he was truly curious. Who would be riding a small army this far north?
The answer came to him when he spied the yellow and gray and black of Lord Lyle Hampton, Earl of Canterbury. David! His little brother had come.
David met Christopher well in front of his army, the familiar white destrier he rode catching Christopher’s eye. Christopher was so damn glad to see his brother that he was off his destrier before the horse even came to a halt, pulling his brother into a great bear hug in spite of the bulky armor they both wore. His anger, his grief, his disgust with David was dissolved in an instant.
“David,” he managed to choke after an emotional minute. “What in the hell are you doing here?”
David wiped at his eyes, not ashamed to let his brother see how caught up he was. “Here to support you, of course,” he said, then gestured to the massive army on the rise. “What is all of this?”
Christopher was so emotional he was ready to crack. He cuffed his brother affectionately on the side of the head.
“Dustin was taken to Nottingham,” he said hoarsely. “How did you know we were here?”
“Because I received missives to that effect and, knowing you would be heading to Nottingham to collect Dustin,” he replied, his blue eyes drinking in his brother’s face. “I came to help.”
Christopher laughed softly. “And so you have,” he murmured, his hand still on his brother’s shoulder as if incapable of letting him go. “We are waiting for reinforcements from Windsor before we go charging in and raise the place. Christ, David, you do not know how good it is to see you.”
David’s face was lit up like a candle. “What about you? Jesus, you were dead. What in the hell happened to you?”
Christopher waved at him. “It is a long story. I was severely wounded and it took me three months to find my way back home again, but we shall delve more into that later,” he said. “What matters now is retrieving my wife and daughter.”
David shook his head, still reeling with emotion. “What about Marcus?”
Christopher shrugged. “A truce, for now. At least until we get Dustin back.”
“That’s why I came, you know,” David said. “I thought you were going to have an all-out war with Marcus and I wanted to fight with you. Even if you did not want me.”
“Did not want you…?” Christopher repeated, realizing how very foolish they had both been. “You are my brother, David. My only brother. What happened….well, we both said and did things in the heat of anger that we should not have.”
David shook his head hard. “I am all to blame, Chris. You did nothing but protect your wife,” his voice lowered regretfully. “You were right when you said I was jealous. I was jealous, of everything you had. When you first married Dustin, it was a sort of game to try and get you to like her. You didn’t, you know. You and I had much the same view of marriage. But when you came to love her, I felt left out. I guess I had to find something wrong with her to make you not love her so that things would be as they had been. Can you ever forgive me?”
Christopher’s eyes were warm. “I understand you returned to Lioncross to act as her protector. That proves to me how sorry you were for what happened.”
David snorted ironically. “A lot of good I did. She married Marcus anyway.”
“Richard said you tried to kill Marcus in a sword fight,” Christopher said. “Very brave of you, little brother. I spent half the day yesterday trying to do the same thing.”
David shrugged, not voicing what he was thinking. That their friendship had come to this still bothered him greatly. He glanced back at his troops after a moment.
“I have got three hundred men to reinforce your ranks,” he said, “if you shall have me.”
Christopher smiled broadly. “I would have no other.” He slugged his brother again and moved toward his destrier. “What is this I hear that you have taken a wife?”
David snickered at his brother’s disbelieving tone. “I did, and a lovely woman she is. But she came with two sisters and they are driving me crazy.”
Christopher crowed with laughter as he mounted. “You deserve all that and more. You never could handle a woman.”
David mounted his dancing animal. “They are not women. They are the spawn of Satan.”
“Not Nathalie,” Christopher said. “She is an obedient, thoughtful girl.
“That is what she wants you to believe,” David sneered. “She puts on a prim and proper front, and then when your guard is down – boom. And Elise, the youngest, is even worse. Do you know that they put honey on my pillow? And charcoal in my helmet? I went for half a day with black hair and had no idea why my men were laughing at me.”
Christopher laughed heartily at the mental picture of his high-strung brother dealing with two disobedient children. “David, I think I like these girls. You must tell me more sometime.”
David made a face. “Later.”
Christopher waved at him and they turned tail on one another, returning to their respective armies. For them both, the world suddenly seemed a little brighter, a little more hopeful.
David’s men set up camp and it was truly like old times. Richard had his inner circle of knights about him and he could not have been more pleased. In spite of the tension in the air, David and Marcus had barely acknowledged one another and kept their distance, dampening Richard’s mood a bit, but it could not be helped. He would have rather had them ignoring each other than trying to slit one another’s throats.
The army from Windsor was expected on the morrow and Richard took leave of his men and went to bed early. Christopher and David were standing around the massive pyre, watching the sparks fly into the dark night and speaking of insignificant things. Christopher wanted to know more of his new sister-in-law, Emilie, and was eager to hear of David’s exploits with her younger sisters. He laughed until he cried picturing his brother trying to handle two spirited young girls.
They were laughing about something or another when Marcus strolled past the fire, eyeing the two brothers impassively. Christopher gazed back, as did David, and immediately the tension rose. Harold, at Christopher’s feet, rose and snarled menacingly.
“Marcus,” he greeted formally.
Marcus merely nodded his head, crossbow strung over his s
houlder, and continued on his way. David watched him disappear into the night before letting out a hissing sigh.
“Be mindful that he doesn’t use that thing on your back,” he referred to the crossbow. “Marcus is the best archer in the realm.”
Christopher nodded. “I am well aware of his skill,” he looked at his brother and slugged him playfully. “That is why I have you here – to cover my back.”
David grinned, gazing at his brother a moment. “I told you once that you had changed. I cannot believe how much you have changed.”
“How so?” Christopher raised his brows.
“Jesus, Chris, how haven’t you changed?” David snorted. “The Lion’s Claw I knew had little sense of humor and ate and drank and slept war on the field. The only time I ever saw you relax was with a woman in your arms. But right now…I mean, look at us. Since when did we laugh and slug each other like a couple of lads? And that ugly dog is constantly with you; you always hated animals. Furthermore, you smile all the time. You never used to smile at all. I wondered at times if you even knew how. You have taken on a dimension I never knew you had.”
Christopher shrugged. “There is much in life to be happy over, I suppose. I love my wife, my daughter. Why should not I smile?”
David grinned at him and shook his head. “Then you were right. Love hasn’t made you weak; it is made you invincible.”
Christopher nodded deliberately, pleased his brother was seeing the truth of it. “And Emilie? Do you love her?”
David looked embarrassed, kicking at the ground. He thought if he admitted he did, he’d sound like a hypocrite. “I am very fond of her, God knows. But love… well, it scares me.”
“As it frightened me,” Christopher looked thoughtful. “I seem to remember a close relative of mine, male of course, tell me once that if I would only allow my wife to love me that everything in this world would right itself. Quit fighting her, I was told. Now I wonder who told me that?”
David looked away sheepishly. “Some idiot, I am sure.”
The de Lohr Dynasty: Medieval Legends: A Medieval Romance Collection Page 156
