by Jody Hedlund
I wasted no time cutting away his cloak, shirt, and linen shift so I had access to the spot where the arrowhead had penetrated his flesh. I shuddered to think that if the arrow had hit two inches lower, it would have punctured his heart and killed him. I probed the wound and felt the sharp corners of the tip. It wasn’t embedded too deeply, and thankfully it was a thin head, the kind suited for attacking chain mail. I could make a few incisions with my scalpel and cut it out without damaging muscle.
However, he’d be fortunate if his wound didn’t putrefy. From what I could tell, he’d been injured hours ago, if not the night we’d encountered King Ethelwulf’s soldiers. I was surprised Edmund hadn’t attempted to pull the head out for himself and guessed he’d been afraid he’d pass out or become too weak to travel.
With precise slices, I extricated the metal and flushed and cleaned the wound with a few drops of a wine tincture I’d concocted. Then I applied a poultice of dried yarrow, packing it directly into the incision.
One of his leg injuries from the spider attack was festering with pus. If I’d had my jar of leeches, I would have drained him of the bad humors. As it was, I could only clean the area and reapply the healing poultice.
Finally, I did my best to boil water in the tin cup I found in Edmund’s satchel and made a tea of willow bark, which I made him drink in tiny sips to ease the pain that was sure to come when he regained full consciousness.
With Edmund settled, I toiled throughout the rest of the night to produce a stronger healing ointment. It was a project I’d been working on in the convent’s apothecary over the past months—testing various herbs together. Even though I’d left my latest formula behind and was missing nettle, I did have sage, wormwood, vervain, and several other ingredients to recreate the remedy. Without a pestle and mortar for grinding, I made do with two stones. And by the time the sky began to turn pink with dawn, the ointment was ready.
Once again, I cleaned the wounds with the wine tincture, and then I applied the new ointment. Edmund’s coloring was normal, his breathing even, and his heartbeat steady.
Leaving the injuries open to dry, I sat back and yawned. The anxiety that had been driving me all night began to ease. Maybe Edmund would survive. He was strong and healthy, unlike Sister Agnes, who’d been older and suffering from many maladies already. Surely, my methods and medicines wouldn’t fail this time.
Sheba brought more game. But I was too tired to prepare a meal. So, I added several pieces of wood to the fire and stretched out near Edmund.
I’d only just closed my eyes when he moaned and started thrashing. I crawled to his side and rested my hand against his cheek. He wasn’t hot with fever. But I suspected he was feeling the pain even in his deep sleep. I smoothed his forehead, brushing back his hair, and then caressed his cheek again. At my touch, he quieted and grew motionless.
Another shuddering yawn racked my body, and my lids drooped with the heaviness of exhaustion. I needed to sleep if I wanted to remain useful to Edmund. With my hand still upon his cheek, I curled up next to him, closed my eyes, and let slumber claim me.
Chapter
10
Edmund
The pain in my shoulder woke me. I wanted to cry out at the burning. But I bit back my agony. Instead, I slowly counted to ten, as Wade had taught me to do, and took a deep breath. If my mentor had discovered I’d passed out, he’d have scolded me severely. He’d drilled into me that a strong soldier always remained alert, no matter the injury, no matter the circumstances, no matter the personal torment.
At a soft brush against my cheek, my inner tirade and attempt to control my pain came to an abrupt halt.
My eyes flew open. The first thing I saw was the low, dark ceiling of a cave. For a moment, I was disoriented and couldn’t make sense of where I was. Warmth enveloped me, stretched along my side, and softly tickled my chin.
I dropped my gaze to find fine silky strands of golden hair spread out in disarray and Maribel curled against me. Her arm lay across my waist, and her hand gently cupped my cheek. She’d rested her head on my uninjured shoulder, using it as a pillow. I couldn’t see her face, but from the slow rise and fall of her chest, I knew she was still asleep.
Bits and pieces of the previous night came back to me. How I’d grown too weak to travel and had collapsed and been unable to get up. How Barnabas had nipped me and scratched at me to keep going. How I’d grown so cold and stiff.
But I couldn’t remember how I’d made it to the cave. I was fairly certain I hadn’t crawled there on my own. Had Maribel come after me?
I flexed my injured leg and my shoulder and sucked in a breath at the sharp pain. Even so, I could tell she’d removed the arrowhead and had put my body on the course toward healing. The scents of her many herbs hung heavy in the air, informing me I was slathered in one poultice or another.
Her fingers caressed my cheek in a soothing motion, a movement that was likely reflexive for her, one meant to bring comfort. But for me, the touch was so much more. I leaned my head into her hand, each stroke of her fingers striking something deep within me.
When she stilled, I suspected she’d allowed herself to sink back into oblivion, which was just as well. I wanted to enjoy her nearness for as long as possible without having to put on the mask and play the part of being only a friend.
She’d spread her cloak over the both of us, trapping our body heat. And suddenly, I realized why she was so close, why she was wrapped against me. It wasn’t because she’d wanted to embrace or show her affection. No, she’d done it as she did most things, to help me and ease my discomfort. In tending my wounds, she’d removed my breeches and shirt so that I wore only my shift and braies. Then, in order to keep me warm, she’d lent me her body heat.
I started to sigh, but swallowed my disappointment. Now was neither the time nor the place to think about my desires for Maribel. We were in too much danger. Ethelwulf’s elite guard was pursuing me.
I’d managed to evade them and cover my tracks and scent for at least the first day of traveling. But yesterday, in my weakness, I’d grown sloppy. It wouldn’t be long before they picked up my trail again. And when they did, they’d follow it straight here.
Panic bubbled in my stomach. I wouldn’t be strong enough to travel as fast as we needed. I’d only slow Maribel down. That meant I needed to ask Sheba to carry Maribel once more. This time all the way to Norland. It would be difficult for the mighty eagle to go the long distance. But she’d managed to bring Maribel here, so perhaps she could do it if she rested often.
I glanced at the cave opening to the brightness of the day. From the way the shadows fell, I guessed it was early afternoon. I didn’t know how much time we had before Ethelwulf’s men arrived, but we couldn’t wait a moment longer.
Slowly, I shifted, attempting to move without waking Maribel. But the motion sent fiery agony through my shoulder—and caused Maribel to stir. She burrowed against me, nuzzling her nose into my neck and releasing a warm sigh that bathed my skin.
I shut my eyes and fought the urge to wrap her closer and bury my face into her hair. Instead, I waited a moment before again attempting to slip away from her. I managed to pull only halfway out from under her when she spoke.
“You need to lie still, Edmund, or you will tear your wound open.”
I chanced a glance over to find her propped on one elbow, her long lashes drooping with the heaviness of sleep, her hair falling in tangled waves about her, and her lips quirked in a half smile.
I hadn’t seen her with her hair down in years—not since she’d been a little girl. And now, with it freed from the usual plait and spilling over her shoulders, she was stunning. Her beauty took away every coherent thought and rendered me speechless.
When she got to her knees and gently pushed me back to the floor, I was unable to resist. I could only watch the way her hair surrounded her face and cascaded over her shoulders.
“I need to clean and add fresh ointment to your injuries.” She bent in to exam
ine my shoulder. As she did so, her hair brushed against my chest and fanned my face. It was finer than the most exotic silk.
When she started to back away and reach for her medical satchel, I snagged her arm. Before I could stop myself or question what I was doing, I tugged her so that she practically sprawled out on my chest, her face only inches from mine. Her palm lay flat against my abdomen, and the heat of the contact seared me.
At our proximity, her eyes widened with surprise, and as they did so, her gaze locked with mine. Questions flitted through the beautiful blue.
“Your hair is so pretty like this.” The words escaped, the only explanation I could find for her confusion. My hand seemed to have a will of its own as my fingers found her hair and dove into the depths.
She held herself motionless, not even breathing. She studied my face as if searching for clues to a puzzle. Then, her cheeks flushed, and she dropped her gaze. I could guess what she’d seen: the desire for her I’d been trying to hide. But at the moment, I didn’t care if it was out in the open. I only cared about the thick silk tangling in my fingers. It was luxurious, decadent, and I wanted to lose myself there.
Her eyes dropped to my lips, which sent sparks of lightning through my midsection. Why was she looking at my mouth? She certainly wasn’t thinking about kissing me, was she?
“Edmund?” Her whisper was strangled, and I could sense her mounting confusion and anxiety. Was my blatant affection scaring her? If I pushed her too quickly, I’d likely drive her away. And I didn’t want to chance losing her. Her friendship was more important than anything else.
Using all the willpower I possessed, I loosened my grip in her hair. I made myself relax and smile. “Remember the time when we were younger and you decided to cut the end off one of your braids?”
Her eyes searched mine for a moment, and then, as if concluding we were back on solid, familiar friendship ground, she allowed her body to relax against me. “If I remember right,” she countered with a smile of her own, “I wanted to see how long it would take to grow and catch back up to the other braid.”
“You were quite the inquisitive child.”
She laughed lightly and the sound of it rolled over me like music. “That is one way of politely saying I was a dunce.”
“You weren’t a dunce. Just too curious for your own good.”
“Sister Agnes was a saint for raising me.”
“Yes, she was.”
Maribel nudged me with an elbow. “I was not always naughty, was I?”
“I choose to refrain from answering—”
At her laughter, I grinned. Inwardly, I released a heave of relief. I’d diverted her attention away from my attraction, and I’d kept things from becoming strained between us.
Sheba’s call, though distant, broke into my conscience. She was sounding a warning that she’d sighted men. I sat up, all mirth falling away.
“What is it?” Maribel didn’t try to stop me this time.
“Ethelwulf’s men will soon be upon us.”
Maribel scrambled toward her bag and the various items strewn over the cave floor and hurried to pack them.
I called to Sheba, giving her my instructions to carry Maribel to Norland. By the time I pushed myself unsteadily to my feet and began to don my garments, she’d arrived at the cave entrance.
I paused with my breeches halfway up, the pain from the movement causing me to break into a sweat. “Maribel, go with Sheba.”
“No, I am not leaving you this time.” She slung her medicine satchel over her shoulder and across her body.
“You are going. And you’re leaving now.” I spoke in my hardest voice, the one that told Maribel I’d reached my limits of patience with her.
She hesitated.
“Sheba will take you to Norland where you’ll be safe.”
Noticing I was struggling with my breeches, Maribel crossed to me. She helped me cinch the waist before assisting me with my shirt and cloak. Each movement of my shoulder brought a stab of fresh pain so severe I wavered with dizziness.
As I strapped on my belt with my weapons, Maribel’s fingers circled mine and stopped me, drawing my gaze up to hers. Her expression was more earnest than I’d ever seen. “I know you only want me to be safe, Edmund. But I have already made up my mind that I shall not leave you to fend for yourself.”
“You must go,” I said. “You are far more important to Mercia than I am or ever could be.”
“But you are important to me,” she said softly, glancing down at my belt and straightening it. “I had not planned to go to Norland without you before, and I shall not go now.”
What did she mean I was important to her?
When she lifted her eyes almost shyly, I saw something in their depths that hadn’t been there before, something that sent warmth whispering through me.
Whatever the case might be, I couldn’t let her stay with me. I’d most certainly be captured. And then I’d lose her forever.
“Listen to me, Maribel.” I attempted to gentle my voice, to keep at bay my rising panic. “You ride ahead with Sheba. And I shall follow behind.”
She shook her head. “If I stay with you, at least I can continue to treat your wounds and make your travel easier.”
I groaned my frustration.
“Let us be on our way.” She reached for my leather pack, replaced my tin cup, and added the game Sheba had hunted for us. Then she handed me the bag.
I didn’t move to take it.
She stretched it out farther. This time her beautiful features implored me in that irresistible way she had, the one that molded me into doing whatever she wished.
“If you force me to go with Sheba,” she said. “I shall only turn around the first moment she sets me down and run back to you.”
I wanted to strangle Maribel and hug her at the same time. She was stubborn when she made up her mind to do something. “Very well, if you insist.”
“I insist.” She smiled, her eyes lighting as they usually did when I yielded to her. Most of the time, her delight gave me a moment of happiness. But not today. Not at this decision. Instead, doubt crept in to whisper I’d made a terrible mistake, that I was leading us both into captivity.
If we didn’t die first.
Nevertheless, I shook off the doubts, took my bag, and attempted to lift the strap over my head. “If you will not leave me, then there is only one thing to be done.”
“And what is that?” She gently raised my pack the rest of the way and settled the bag on my hip.
“We must go down into the labyrinth and hide there.”
Chapter
11
Maribel
“I found no conclusive evidence of a labyrinth,” I told Edmund as we explored the depths of the cavern. “I searched this cave as well as every rock and crevice in the surrounding vicinity. But I could find nothing.”
Edmund ducked as the ceiling slanted lower. From his stilted movements, I could tell he was in terrible pain but was doing his best to mask it.
“The entrance is here somewhere,” he said in a strained voice, skimming his fingers along the walls, assessing every detail.
“There are no hollow spots like we found at St. Cuthbert’s.” After lighting a torch, I doused the cooking fire with snow, putting out the flames and the warmth.
“Did you test the floor?”
“No. I did not think to do so.”
He knelt and ran his hand over the roughened rock.
I stomped the wet wood and ashes, wishing we could hide the evidence we’d been there. But I suspected all my efforts would do no good. King Ethelwulf’s guard likely had the use of specially trained dogs or wolves that would follow our scent from the previous night when I’d dragged Edmund to the cave. I hadn’t taken the time to cover our tracks or sprinkle the Mountain Essence.
After several minutes of searching, Edmund paused, sat back on his heels, and peered around the cave with narrowed eyes.
“If I was the architect in charge o
f creating the maze,” he mumbled to himself, “where would I put the entrance?”
“Apparently someplace impossible to find.”
“No,” he said, rising slowly and shuffling toward the now cold and wet remains of the fire. “I’d put the entrance in a place that would give my workers easy access for bringing up the tons of stones needing to be chiseled away.”
He crouched beside the blackened wood and ashes and used a rock to sweep the residue away. Nothing unusual or different marked the spot except for the soot of many fires from long ago. Edmund brushed more remains away and then began to scrape. For a moment, I thought he was merely rubbing rock against rock. But as he dug deeper, I could see a groove forming in the floor.
With a burst of excitement, I knelt next to him, found a sharp stone, and began to scrape in what was clearly a crack that had been filled with mortar. The seal blended in with the stone, and over time had become nearly invisible.
“This is the entrance,” I said as the groove deepened. “Is it not?”
“It must be,” he replied. “Although I wouldn’t be surprised if there is a false opening that leads to deadly traps.”
I paused, my anticipation dimming at the prospect of the dangerous unknown. “Do you think this is one such trap?”
“We shall know soon enough.”
His answer didn’t soothe me. But I resumed my digging anyway.
His gaze flickered to me, giving me a glimpse of the seriousness in his eyes, along with something else. The same something I’d noticed there earlier when we’d awoken from our slumber.
I’d fallen asleep beside him to keep him warm and so that if he stirred, the motion would rouse me. What I hadn’t expected was for him to awaken and bury his fingers in my hair.
When he’d told me my hair was pretty and looked at me as though I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes upon, my body had warmed all the way through as it did when I drank hot spiced mead on a frigid winter day. I’d felt delicious and womanly in a way I’d never experienced before.
