The Age of Knights and Highlanders: A Series Starter Collection

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “I had no idea Hardie was such a good rider, much less so talented at the joust,” Johamma said.

  “You will learn a great deal about your new husband,” Merryn guaranteed. “And you will have a lifetime in which to discover it.”

  After a few minutes of rest, Geoffrey and Hardwin moved to opposite ends of the field to ready themselves for the final contest. Merryn said a quick prayer, hoping both men would remain safe. Johamma clutched her hand tightly as the men spurred their horses on at breakneck speed.

  Geoffrey thrust his lance forward so fast that it seemed like a blur to Merryn. Despite the noise from the horses’ hooves, she heard the lance make contact against Hardwin’s armor.

  The Earl of Winterbourne flew out of the saddle and hit the ground with a loud thud. His horse galloped away. Johamma screamed and rose from her seat, rushing to her husband. Merryn followed closely on her heels. Geoffrey pulled on Mystery’s reins and circled back around.

  Johamma flung her body atop Hardwin’s, sobbing loudly as he remained still, as if in death. Geoffrey leapt from his horse and pulled her aside so the court physician could get closer to examine him. The doctor removed the helm. The nobleman’s eyes remained closed.

  “Help me get this mail off him,” the physician ordered. Geoffrey handed Johamma off to Merryn. She drew her arms about the young woman. Several knights came and aided Geoffrey in removing the chain mail from the unconscious earl. When they did, Merryn saw the pool of blood darkening Hardwin’s cotehardie.

  Geoffrey stumbled away from the group. Merryn released Johamma and ran after him.

  She reached him as he yanked off his helm and slammed it to the ground.

  “God’s teeth!” he roared. “I’ve gone and killed another one of Berold’s sons.”

  Chapter 30

  Merryn sprang into action. She ordered a large banner placed on the ground and instructed several knights to lift Hardwin onto it. The banner would support the injured nobleman while they carried him inside the castle to the solar. The men did her bidding and followed her to the keep. Hobard, the king’s physician, trailed behind them. Merryn tried to block out Johamma’s anguished sobs.

  Tilda appeared as they came to the open gates of the castle.

  “What do you need, my lady?”

  “Bring my bag,” she instructed. “Have hot water boiled and some eggs sent to the solar at once.”

  Tilda darted off, the fastest Merryn had seen the servant move in years.

  Motioning for the soldiers to continue, they arrived within minutes and placed the young earl atop the bed in the solar.

  Hobard brought his own bag of medicines and tools. He dismissed the knights.

  “We must remove his clothing,” the physician said. “I need to see what causes the bleeding.”

  Merryn’s fingers worked quickly. Between the two of them and the dagger the court doctor claimed from his bag, Hardwin’s clothes were tossed aside. Merryn saw Johamma kneel and lift pieces of clothing to her face and weep into them.

  Merryn’s eyes met the physician’s and nodded to him. He rummaged through his bag till he found what was needed.

  The physician moved to Johamma and took her elbow, bringing her to her feet. “My lady,” he said gently, “I know you are distraught. Please drink this.”

  Raising a vial with an amber liquid inside, he said, “This will calm you and help you rest. You need to be at your strongest when your new husband awakens.”

  Johamma nodded dully. She dutifully took the vial and downed its contents, making a face as she swallowed.

  Merryn spied Tilda lurking near the doorway and waved her over. “Take Lady Johamma to Lady Elia’s room. Have Lady Elia stay with her.”

  Tilda took the crying noblewoman in hand, leading her from the room like a lost child.

  Hobard examined Hardwin’s wound. Merryn decided that Geoffrey’s lance had found a gap in the earl’s chain mail. Though the tip of the lance had been blunted, the force from the speed of the horses drove the lance into the nobleman’s chest. The physician’s fingers manipulated the tear and surrounding area.

  “There are a few broken ribs,” he noted. “We should bind his ribcage with linen to keep it intact. Bruising will follow. I must stitch the punctured skin first. He is lucky the lance didn’t travel far.”

  “I requested hot water,” Merryn told him. “It should arrive soon.”

  When it did, she asked Tilda to bring strips of clean linen. Both Merryn and the doctor rinsed their hands and then bathed the earl’s wound in a mixture of hot water and wine.

  As they did that, Merryn said, “I’m concerned with how hard he hit his head when he fell from his horse since he hasn’t come to yet.”

  Hobard threaded a needle and began sewing up the gap in his patient’s chest.

  “I agree, my lady. Check his head while I repair his skin.”

  Running her fingers lightly along Hardwin’s scalp, she turned his head to one side and then the other. Lifting it from the pillow, she moved her hands along the back of his skull, discovering a lump. She examined it carefully. Relief washed through her when no blood appeared around the bump.

  “He has a huge knot. It’s formed near the top of his head in the rear,” she informed the doctor. “I found no wound. You will not have to trepan.”

  “That is good news. I loathe boring into a head wound. Bathe the area in hot water, my lady. I will examine it in a moment.”

  Once the earl’s wound had been stitched, Merryn searched her own bag of herbs and medicines for an ointment. She located the jar and set it aside. Cracking open two eggs, she separated the yolks from the whites using a pewter cup before rubbing the egg whites over the stiches as a soothing balm.

  She softly chanted, “In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Mary. The wound was red, the cut deep, the flesh be sore, but there will be no more blood or pain till the Blessed Virgin bears a child again.”

  After the egg whites dried, she opened the jar and rubbed the salve over and around the wound.

  “So you are a healer. You make your own balms?”

  “Aye. I pick and grind my own herbs and turn them into pastes, salves, and draughts. I grew up at Wellbury, the estate to the south of Kinwick. Our healer, Sephare, taught me all she knew. I have continued my learning here at Kinwick.”

  The physician nodded in approval. “Help me raise him. We’ll wrap the linen about Lord Hardwin, to protect the wound as much as his ribs.”

  Merryn assisted the doctor so that they moved Hardwin to a sitting position. Hobard held the nobleman upright while she wound the linen around his back and over his chest.

  “Good. A little tighter. That will do.”

  They eased Hardwin back onto the pillows.

  The doctor wiped his hands along his cotehardie. “I think he’ll remain unconscious for another hour or two. Once he awakens, I’ll question him to see if he knows who he is and what happened to him.”

  Merryn said, “Our stable boy suffered a similar injury to his head. Sephare would not let him sleep for more than a few hours at a time.”

  “I agree. Someone should awaken him at regular intervals to question him and see if his answers make sense.”

  “I will stay with him,” a deep voice called out.

  Merryn turned and saw that Geoffrey had slipped into the chamber. He crossed to the bed.

  “How is he?”

  Hobard shrugged. “A few broken ribs will irritate him for several weeks. I stitched his chest wound, which was not deep. He’ll want to scratch as it heals.”

  “And the head wound?” Geoffrey asked.

  “The skin did not break open, so I don’t believe it’s serious,” the physician replied. “Once he regains consciousness, he must be awakened periodically over the next day or two.”

  “Lady Merryn and I shall see to his care,” Geoffrey declared. “We will not leave his side.”

  Hobard gathered his things. “Then I shall leave the young earl in your capable h
ands and return to the king.”

  “The king!” Merryn exclaimed. “I had forgotten about him and the queen.”

  “The king never likes being around someone injured or ill,” Hobard told them. “He is superstitious about such matters. Since we are leaving in the morning, he will be eager to reach the next stop on the royal progress.”

  The door opened at that moment. It surprised Merryn when Edward entered the solar.

  “How is young Winterbourne?” the king asked, glancing at the bed and then back to the royal physician.

  Hobard filled the king in on the earl’s prognosis.

  “Good, good,” Edward said brusquely and then turned to Merryn.

  “We must move on, Lady Merryn, so you can care for your patient. I will have mine and the queen’s things packed so we can continue on our way. We shall leave within the hour.” He kissed her hand. “My thanks to you. Your hospitality and graciousness always make me feel as if I am in my own home.”

  Edward turned to Geoffrey. “I am happy we finally met, Lord Geoffrey. Though I didn’t have a chance to discuss matters with Winterbourne, I plan to in the near future once he is fully recovered. Rest assured, I will take care of it.”

  “Thank you, Sire.”

  “Hobard, I want you to stay at Kinwick for a few days with two of my guard. Watch over this young nobleman carefully. When he is on the road to recovery, you may join the summer progress again.”

  The king swiftly left the solar without a backward glance.

  Merryn and Geoffrey stayed with Hardwin constantly, with Johamma and Hobard lending support.

  The first time Hardwin’s eyes opened, he groaned in pain.

  Merryn took his hand. “Be still, my lord. You were injured in the joust,” she explained. “You have some broken ribs and a chest wound from the lance.”

  Hardwin placed his hand on his chest and explored the stitches. Then he asked, “Could I have something to drink?”

  Pouring him a bit of weak ale, she held it to his parched lips. He drank all of it and touched his head.

  “My head aches,” he complained.

  “You hit it when you fell from your horse,” Geoffrey told him.

  The earl touched the back of his head gently. “I feel a large knot.”

  “Because you hurt your head, we need to test your memory.” Geoffrey asked the nobleman to name his wife and the title he held. He questioned where Hardwin lived and where Winterbourne was located.

  Satisfied with his responses, Merryn told Hardwin that he could rest. The earl drifted off to sleep immediately.

  They sat at Hardwin’s bedside, holding hands, no words between them. She knew Geoffrey was weighed down by guilt even though Hardwin’s injuries were not intentional.

  Merryn was uncomfortable that Symond Benedict was one of the two men the king had left behind. She didn’t mind Sir Alard’s presence since the knight was friendly and agreeable. But Symond Benedict never spoke to them. He stood near the doorway in the shadows, observing them at all times. She believed Geoffrey’s silence was due to Symond’s presence. Merryn was eager to learn what matter the king spoke of regarding Lord Hardwin and how her husband was involved. She squashed her curiosity and decided to wait until they had privacy before she brought up the matter.

  Hardwin continued to improve the remainder of the day. Each time they awakened him, he could answer their questions after a moment of thought. Hobard told them that was a good sign. By the second day, the earl ate some chicken broth and a bit of bread with Johamma’s assistance. His responses became clear and quick.

  “The earl will make a full recovery,” Hobard assured those gathered at the bedside as Hardwin lay sleeping. “He can return home in a day or two and allow his pretty wife to fuss over him.”

  Johamma blush at the physician’s comment.

  “I will leave in the morning and return to my duties with the king.” Hobard motioned Sir Alard forward. “Make plans for us to depart after we break our fast.”

  The knight nodded and exited the room.

  “Lady Johamma, you haven’t eaten much at all,” the physician admonished the young bride. “Why don’t you accompany me to the great hall so we can dine? You need your strength in order to nurse Lord Hardwin back to health.”

  “I will accompany you,” Geoffrey said. He looked at Merryn. “Once our guests are fed, I will bring up a tray for us. Will you stay with Lord Hardwin?”

  “Of course,” she replied. “Take your time.”

  As the others left the room, Merryn drew a chair close to the bed to sit next to the patient. She glanced at the burning candle beside her. She used it to measure when to awaken Hardwin.

  Since it was again time to do so, she leaned over and shook his shoulder gently.

  His eyes opened. “Ale,” he whispered.

  Merryn poured some of the watered-down ale from a carafe and helped him sit up to drink it. Some dribbled down his chin and he wiped it away with his sleeve. The gesture reminded her of Ancel and she smiled.

  Hardwin eased back into the pillows with a sigh. “So it is only you and me, my lady?” he asked.

  “Aye. Should I retrieve Johamma for you? Or the physician?”

  “Nay. I have a great need to speak with you. Only you.”

  His words puzzled Merryn. What could Hardwin want to discuss with her?

  He grimaced.

  “Do your ribs continue to ache?” she asked. “I can offer you a sleeping draught. Hobard said tonight you might finally have one.”

  “Nay.” He sighed. “What pains me more is my conscience. I must unburden it to you.”

  Merryn did not like where the conversation headed. “I’m no confessor, my lord. If you have need of a priest, I will happily fetch Father Dannet. He is the one who married you and Johamma a few days ago.”

  His hand snaked from under the bedcovers and latched on to her wrist. “You must hear my confession, my lady. For ’tis you who have been wronged by my family. I must do what I can to set matters right.”

  His strong fingers held on too tightly, but the look in his eye caused Merryn fear. She wondered if Hardwin had somehow been taken with a sudden fever and it was the delirium that spoke. Yet his fingers only felt warm against her skin. She placed her free hand upon his brow.

  “I have no fever, my lady. Just a burning guilt. I beg you to listen to my tale of woe. You innocently befriended my wife and me. You stood up for us with the king. You have nursed me back to good health these past few days. And I pray by the Blessed Christ that you will forgive me.”

  Merryn stared with curious wonder as Hardwin continued. “For what was done. To your husband.”

  Chapter 31

  Geoffrey settled Johamma and Hobard at a trestle table in the great hall. He signaled Tilda to bring them something to eat since the evening meal had come and gone and for a page to bring drink. The page poured them wine, while Tilda returned with enough to feed half a dozen men. He instructed her to prepare a tray that he could take up to privately sup with Merryn.

  Tension fell away as Geoffrey gave thanks to God Almighty that Hardie would make a full recovery. He wouldn’t have to carry the burden of guilt by being the cause of Hardie’s death.

  Geoffrey watched Johamma eating, knowing that the young countess almost had been like Merryn—a bride who’d spent only a single night with her bridegroom. Thank the Christ Hardie enabled Geoffrey to return to his wife. Merryn’s loving hand continued to help him each day find the man he had been.

  Tilda appeared with the tray. Geoffrey thanked the servant and bid good night to Hobard and Johamma. He promised to see Hobard off in the morning. Crossing the great hall, Alys stopped him, latching on to his leg and squeezing it tightly.

  He set the tray on a nearby table and picked the child up, swinging her high in the air. Geoffrey’s heart almost burst with love hearing his daughter’s squeal of delight. Being with his children helped him treasure simple moments such as this.

  Geoffrey brought Alys
back to the ground. She kissed his cheek.

  “The king is gone, Father.”

  “Aye, he is. We have had a great many guests at Kinwick.” He laid a hand on her thin shoulder. “Would you like us to spend time together after we break our fast in the morning?”

  Her eyes lit up. “Oh, please, Father.”

  “What will we do together?”

  Alys thought a moment. “You could help me ride my pony. Gilbert has been teaching Ancel and me but you could help now.”

  “What else?”

  “We could pick flowers for Mother. She loves flowers.”

  Cupping Alys’ heart-shaped face in his hands, he said, “We’ll do both, my little love. Ride and pick flowers. I can’t think of a better way to spend my day.”

  The girl clapped her hands together in glee. “Just us, Father. No Ancel.”

  Geoffrey agreed as he reached for the tray. “I need to take this to your mother. She must be famished.” He dropped a kiss on his daughter’s head. “Good night, my sweet.”

  He watched Alys skip across the great hall. His eyes searched for Ancel and spied him swinging his toy sword, entertaining a group of his men. Geoffrey wished he could make things right with the boy. Merryn cautioned him it might take more time for Ancel to come around. Maybe he could tutor the boy in swordplay or take him hunting. Anything to bring them closer together.

  His eye caught Raynor’s. His cousin sat among the soldiers who watched Ancel’s antics. They nodded at one another. Geoffrey also hoped his relationship with Raynor would be repaired. They’d already made a good start. Geoffrey tried to push Raynor’s declaration of love for Merryn from his mind.

  Yet could he blame Raynor? Everyone—even the king of England—was a little in love with his wife. She was the most beautiful, desirable, intelligent woman in all the land.

  Thank the heavens she belonged to him.

  Geoffrey left the great hall and ascended the staircase, moving to the bedchambers on the second floor. The solar lay at the far end of the long corridor. He entered and placed the tray on a table. Lifting the carafe of wine, he poured out two cups before he fetched Merryn.