“Especially then.”
Christopher’s gaze was warm upon his brother. “We have done well, you and I,” he said. “We have six sons between us and the name of de Lohr will live on. Already, it is strong and will only grow stronger. We have given our sons that legacy, the best part of both of us.”
“The best part of me is lying in a bed upstairs.” Rhys’ softly uttered statement filled the air. He had been staring at his hands but when he looked up, he saw three sad expressions gazing at him. It was difficult not to give in to their sympathy. “All moments in my life have led up to this one. I agree with Brydon. We will have a plan when we march upon Arundel, but make no mistake – the only man entitled to seek a reckoning for Maddoc is me. It is my right.”
“You are too old,” David sighed. “Rhys, you will be facing a man twenty or thirty years younger than you are. As great as you are, and you are the greatest, you cannot compete with youth and speed.”
“Perhaps,” Rhys whispered. “But it is my right and I will not allow anyone to take it from me.”
Christopher and David passed concerned glances, finally looking at Gart, who was stone-faced as he looked at Rhys’ lowered head. When Gart felt their stares, he looked up at them both. The stone-faced expression morphed into one of resignation.
“It is his right,” he finally muttered. “If we were speaking of Daniel or Brydon or any one of Chris’ sons, we would feel the same way. For my son, I would seek justice a thousand times over no matter what the risk. And if I die, I die in the quest for my son’s justice. There is no wrong in that.”
There was nothing more any of them could say to that. They all knew the stakes and they all knew the plan. As their sons organized the armies down in the bailey of Canterbury, David wearily rose from his seat and extended a hand to Rhys, who took it and laboriously stood. They were old, that was true, but they were still knights, and they would do what knights do best.
They would fight for honor, justice, and the bonds of family and allies. One last time, they would fight.
*
He could hear the shouting from the bailey. In fact, he had been dreaming about something, something military or violent, and those shouts were a part of that dream. It took him some time to realize that he was awake, listening to the voices of soldiers and commanders down in the ward.
Maddoc stared at the ceiling for the longest time. He didn’t even know how long. It seemed like a lifetime. Then, it started to occur to him that he was very thirsty and his eyeballs no longer felt hot. The fever that had ravaged his body had made everything hot, even his eyeballs. It was odd not to be excruciatingly hot all over, but rather comfortable. Odd, indeed.
Maddoc turned his head slightly, noting the old physic sleeping in his chair up against the wall. A soft breeze blew the oilcloth covering the lancet window and he could see that it was daylight outside. He had no idea what time it was, or even what day it was, but it was, indeed, daytime. He could smell the dung and dust from the bailey blowing in through the window. It was a very comforting smell.
Slowly, he lifted a hand, which was more of a chore than he could have ever imagined. He was extremely weak and lifting one big arm was like trying to lift so much dead weight. He had no idea his arm weighed so much. But he brought a hand to his forehead, feeling that his temperature was cool and normal. He was surprised. More than that, he was breathing easy and the agonizing pain that had gripped his torso for the past few weeks was less than agonizing. He twisted a little, just to see how he felt, and the pain was still there but not nearly what it was. In his opinion, it was manageable.
The physic was snoring softly. Without moving his head or body too much, Maddoc looked around and noticed a small table at his bedside with a bowl on it and other implements. There was even a wet rag. Picking up the bowl, because it was the only thing he could really get his hands on, Maddoc threw it at the physic and hit the man in the shoulder.
The physic woke up with a violent start, jumping sideways and toppling out of his chair. On his bum against the wall, he rubbed the back of his head where he had smacked it as he fell. His astonished gaze was on Maddoc.
“Did you throw that?” he asked.
Maddoc shifted in the bed, realizing his back and bum were extremely sore from having lain motionless for so long. His body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, stiff and sore and aching.
“I did,” he replied honestly. “I am thirsty and I believe I could eat something.”
The physic struggled to his feet and made his way over to Maddoc. His surprise was obvious. He peered into Maddoc’s eyes, felt his pulse, and put his ear against the man’s chest. After several moments of listening to the inner workings of Maddoc’s torso, he lifted his head.
“Your fever is gone,” he stated the obvious. “How do you feel?”
Maddoc sighed faintly. “Exhausted,” he said. “Hungry. Thirsty. And my head hurts a great deal.”
The physic peered under his eyelids and in his mouth. Then, he shook his head in wonder. “A small price, considering,” he said. “I thought for certain you were dead to us. I see that I was thankfully wrong.”
Maddoc didn’t have much to say to that, so he drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes. It was difficult to keep them open. There was some pain when he breathed but not much. More than that, he didn’t feel winded or faint. Other than being extremely weary, he truthfully didn’t feel all that bad, considering.
The physic, still shaking his head with wonder, went to the door and called for a servant. When an older, toothless woman appeared, he instructed the woman to bring bread and broth. The woman went on the run as the old physic returned to Maddoc’s bedside and began unwrapping the bandages around his torso.
Maddoc dozed as the physic removed the moss and mustard poultice, noting that the wound was developing a hard scab. No more oozing, which was a good sign. He replaced the wrappings with boiled linen, clean and tight around Maddoc’s chest, something he had learned during his years in The Levant where the old Arab physics who had bred and practiced their methods on the hot sands of the east had taught him that only boiled things should touch a wound. It was knowledge that had served him well, as Maddoc was showing evidence.
By the time the physic was finishing with the wrapping, the servant returned with strained beef broth and big hunks of hard crusted bread. As the physic broke up the bread, softened it in the broth, and fed it to Maddoc, more shouting and commotion could be heard from the bailey. It was enough to rouse Maddoc’s curiosity.
“What is happening?” he asked the physic.
The old man spooned the softened bread into Maddoc’s mouth. “I do not know,” he said. “There are many soldiers in the bailey. Perhaps they are going to war.”
Maddoc’s brow furrowed as he swallowed the mushy but tasty bread. “War?” he repeated. “With whom? Where is Lord David?”
“With your father, I would imagine. In fact, I…”
“My father?” Maddoc repeated, startled. “My father is here?”
The physic nodded, putting a hand on Maddoc’s big shoulder to steady him. “He came yesterday,” he said. “Do you not remember?”
Maddoc was distressed, struggling through the mental cobwebs to put his last memories into perspective. After a moment of concentrated effort, he shook his head.
“I do not recall anything much,” he admitted. “In fact, the last I remember, I was in the bailey with… oh, dear God… Adalind… where is Adalind?”
The physic could see that his patient was genuinely upset. Illness had a way of erasing memory; he knew that. He patted the man on the shoulder in a weak attempt to comfort him.
“Your father and other knights have come,” the old man said patiently. “I have spent nearly all of my time with you so I am uneducated as to the exact details, but I was told by a servant that your father and Lord David are going after the lady. She is at Norfolk.”
Maddoc was now struggling to sit up. “Addie,” he muttered. “Sw
eet Jesus… it was de Royans, wasn’t it? He took her. He fought me for her and… God, why can I not remember what happened after he gored me? My mind is like mud.”
The physic wasn’t strong enough to keep Maddoc in his bed. Even though the young knight had spent the past three weeks ill and with fever, he was still a very big and very strong man in his weakened state. The physic tried to hold him down as he hollered for a servant. Maddoc had one leg over the side of the bed and was struggling to push himself up when the servant appeared and the old physic sent the woman on the run for David.
Maddoc heard the command but it did not concern him. All he cared about was regaining his armor and riding for Adalind. His head was swimming and his body trembling with weakness, pain, and exertion, but he had to get up. He had to find Adalind and save her from de Royans because, in his mind, it was the very last thing he remembered and the urgency was still very strong. As he struggled to his feet, he pushed the old physic out of the way. The old man fell to the floor and Maddoc lost his balance, toppling over and collapsing against the wall.
But he wasn’t down for long. Maddoc rolled on to his knees as the physic picked himself up and went to help him stand. But the physic tried to direct him back to the bed while Maddoc wanted to head out of the door. It was quite a battle until the sounds of running boots filled the corridor outside and the door panel flew open.
“Maddoc!” Rhys exclaimed. He was so startled that he actually stumbled back into the door jamb. “God’s Blood, we thought you were… the servant said to come quickly and we thought…”
Maddoc reached out a big hand and his father caught it, steadying him. Although Rhys was a very large man, and very strong, Maddoc was taller and heavier than his father. Supporting nearly all of Maddoc’s dead weight against him, Rhys practically carried his son back to the bed and sat him down as David and Christopher, having followed Rhys on his panicked flight into the keep, moved in to assist. Between the three of them, they managed to get Maddoc back to the bed, but he wouldn’t lie down. He kept trying to get back to his feet.
“I have to get dressed,” Maddoc told them. “I have to find Addie.”
Rhys was thrilled to death that Maddoc was evidently recovered, so much so that he sat down next to him and threw his arms around him.
“Praise to God,” he whispered, hugging his son tightly. “I thought we had lost you.”
Maddoc realized they weren’t going to let him get up. It was three against one and he wasn’t strong enough to fight them all off. Thwarted for the moment, he paused long enough to appreciate his father’s show of affection. It was obvious that Rhys was very emotional as he embraced his eldest child.
“You have not lost me,” Maddoc assured the man, his gaze moving to David and Christopher standing in front of him. “What has happened? Will someone please tell me where Adalind is? I was told she was at Norfolk.”
David was so relieved to see Maddoc up and about that he could hardly verbalize it. He thought for sure that the harried servant had come with news of the knight’s demise and was more than surprised to see that the case was exactly the opposite. He bent over Maddoc and put a hand to his forehead.
“No more fever?” he asked.
“No more fever, my lord,” the physic answered, standing behind them. “He awoke a short time ago clear of fever or infection and asked for food. I can find no trace of illness in him. It would seem that Sir Maddoc is something of a miracle.”
David took his hand off of Maddoc’s head, his blue eyes glimmering with warmth as he gazed down at the knight. “Thanks be to God for His holy and just miracles,” he murmured. “I did not truly believe we would see this moment.”
Maddoc knew he had been ill but the severity of it was finally beginning to sink in because they were all looking at him like he was a ghost. He looked at his father, still hugging him, and patted the man’s arms in a comforting gesture as if Rhys were the one that needed soothing.
“It could not have been that bad,” Maddoc muttered, somewhat embarrassed.
David rolled his eyes. “Do you not remember any of this, Maddoc?” he asked. “De Royans gored you and badly injured you. Fever set in and we thought we were going to lose you. Truly, I did not think we would see you alive and well ever again.”
Maddoc was ashamed he had been so much trouble. “I remember fighting de Royans,” he admitted. “I remember seeing Adalind… she had a dagger in her hand and she was running towards us. I think she was trying to help me. I tried to stop her but de Royans cut me. After that… I do not recall much at all.”
Rhys let go of his son, listening to the man’s recollection of past events. “She is a brave woman if she was, indeed, trying to help you,” he muttered. “Foolish but brave. She reminds me of my wife in that respect. Elizabeau has been known to show astounding bravery.”
While Maddoc gave his father a weak grin, David explained what the man had wanted to know.
“After de Royans gored you, he grabbed Adalind and fled Canterbury,” he said. “We assume he took her back to Arundel Castle but we do not know for certain. I have called upon my brother, your father, and Gart Forbes to help us reclaim her and to seek justice for what de Royans did to you.”
Maddoc gazed up at him, digesting what he was told. He was coming to understand the sequence of events. But one thing was unclear to him.
“How long have I been ill?” he asked.
“Almost three weeks.”
Maddoc’s eyes widened. “Three weeks?” he repeated, shocked. “De Royans took Addie three weeks ago and you are only now going to reclaim her?”
There was accusation in his voice as Maddoc grew agitated. David and Rhys hastened to calm him.
“Maddoc, there was much involved,” David tried to explain. “I am still recovering from the beating I took at Victoria du Bose’s mêlée. I knew I could not go after Adalind alone so I sent for help from my brother and your father and Gart. They have only just arrived and now we intend to gather our massive army and ride for Arundel. Believe me that the delay was not by choice but necessity. To go after de Royans myself, or to send Gerid or one of the other knights after him, would have been a foolish venture.”
Maddoc was still staring at David in distress and outrage. “So you let him take her with no recourse? Just like that?”
“I had no choice. He had a dagger to her throat and threatened to kill her multiple times. I truly had no choice, Maddoc, believe me.”
Maddoc was shaking with anguish, with nausea, at the thought of Adalind with de Royans. His mind was becoming clearer, however. He knew what had more than likely already happened during the time he had been ill. The realization brought tears to his eyes.
“He would have married her as soon as he could,” he muttered, closing his eyes against the mere idea. “She is already Lady de Royans.”
“We do not know that for certain,” David said softly.
Maddoc would not be eased. He collapsed forward and put his face in his hands. “Oh, Addie,” he whispered tightly. “I am so sorry, sweetheart… so very sorry I could not prevent this. God forgive me for failing you.”
Rhys put his arm around Maddoc’s slumped shoulders. “You did not fail her, lad,” he assured him quietly. “Maddoc, even if de Royans has married her, David plans to charge him with thievery and quite possibly the marriage could be annulled on those grounds. There is hope, son. There is hope.”
Maddoc wallowed in sorrow for a few seconds longer before wiping his face and lifting his head. The emotion in his expression was naked, his pain raw, but his jaw was set resolutely. He was weak with injury and his body wasn’t nearly healthy enough to go after Adalind, but there was no question in his mind that he was bound by love and honor to find de Royans and beat him down until one or both of them was dead. He had to punish the man and regain Adalind or, at the very least, free her from him forever. Even if he perished, Adalind had to be freed.
He knew what he needed to do.
“I am riding
for Arundel,” he muttered, emotional. “I will challenge de Royans and I will kill him. Then I will bring Addie home and marry her as I should have done those weeks ago.”
David put a hand on his shoulder. “You are still a very sick man,” he said, trying to be gentle with him. “I know it is asking you to trust others where Adalind is concerned, but I am asking you to please trust us. Trust me. Adalind is my flesh and blood, and I swear I will not fail you. I will get her back for you.”
It was a kind way of trying to keep Maddoc out of the battle, but they all knew it was of no use. Maddoc gazed at David, his liege, a man he’d known since childhood and a man he respected greatly. He trusted him. He believed in him. But he could not let the man fight his battles for him. After a moment, he simply shook his head.
“I understand your point, my lord,” he said quietly. “But I must do this. For Adalind, as well as for me, I must do this. De Royans’ aggression was against me and I cannot let the man win. The cost is too high. I must regain what is mine and reclaim my honor as a knight, something that de Royans tried to take away from me. You will understand when I say that I must do this myself.”
David knew that. He sighed heavily, looking at Rhys, whose gaze was fixed on his son. There was such sorrow in the air, such anguish, because more than anything, the old knights understood Maddoc’s point of view. The man had been raised to understand honor and loyalty, love and commitment, so his stance on the matter was not a surprising one. It was expected.
“I understand,” David finally said, dropping his hand from Maddoc’s shoulder. “We will be prepared to leave when you are up to the task. For now, I will have…”
Maddoc cut him off. “I will be ready in an hour.”
Rhys cut in. “Maddoc, you are still recovering from a near-death experience,” he said. “At least eat and get a good night’s rest. We will leave at dawn. Whatever has become of Lady Adalind, delaying until morning will not change her fate. A few hours will not make a difference to her but it will do you a world of good.”
Maddoc looked at his father through his haze of determination and reluctantly agreed. A few hours would not change the situation with Adalind, wherever she was. He could feel himself getting apprehensive and edgy over the thought of a delay but he fought it. He hated to admit that he still felt very weak, so perhaps a good meal and some sleep would help him in regaining some of his strength.
Fathers and Sons Page 55
