God, please rid me of this fever, she prayed silently. It was a prayer she said repeatedly as they traveled beneath the bright sun, which was only compounding the problem. When the road would widen and the knights would spread out, Gaetan would end up on one side and someone else, usually de Russe, would end up on the other. She was terrified they would see how red her cheeks were so she tried to keep her head down and not speak with any of them, as much as it pained her. Gaetan was finally showing her the attention she had been hoping for and she very much wanted to show that she was receptive to it, but now she was afraid to.
Afraid he would see her illness in her face.
After several hours of travel, they stopped to rest the horses along a small creek in a thicket that was heavy with moisture. The water bubbled down the rocks as the horses drank. Wellesbourne and St. Hèver even went so far as to pull their horses into the water, splashing them to cool them off. Ghislaine, meanwhile, had wandered upstream a bit, kneeling down with her painful leg beside the crystal-clear water to splash some on her face. It was cool to her skin and felt wonderful. As she dried her face off with the sleeve of her cote, she heard footsteps next to her. Turning slightly, she caught sight of Gaetan’s boots.
“Is the weather always ridiculously hot in October?” he asked.
She kept her head down, pretending to still splash water on her face. “Nay,” she said. “A day like this is most unusual.”
Gaetan moved up beside her and crouched down as well, putting a big hand in the water and drinking from it. “How does your wound feel?”
She nodded. “It aches,” she said, an understatement. She paused a moment before continuing. “I… I have not had the opportunity to thank you for tending it so carefully. I do not think any physic could have done a better job.”
He wiped the cold water on his face. “It was the least I could do, considering you risked your lives for all of us.”
“I did what I believed needed to be done.”
“I know.”
A brief silence followed, but not uncomfortable. It was rather warm, in fact. Gaetan remained crouched next to her, now watching the stream bubble as water dripped from his hands. “We are near Worcester.”
“We are.”
“How far to your brother’s stronghold?”
Ghislaine cocked her head thoughtfully but, in doing so, she realized that she lifted her head and exposed her red cheeks to his scrutiny, so she quickly lowered her head again.
“Very close,” she said. “We will be there by tomorrow.”
He grunted. “I had not realized we were so close.”
She nodded. “We are quite close,” she said. Then, she sighed thoughtfully. “I have been thinking of my brother and of his travels. If he continued to travel as slowly as he was when we first began to follow him, then he would be at least three days behind us, mayhap more. Even with our delay in Evesham, I do not think he has caught up to us. On the road he is traveling, unless he has deviated, he will come through Kidderminster. The road our party is on will come up west of Kidderminster and it is my assumption that we will reach Tenebris before he does.”
Gaetan shifted so he was sitting on his buttocks now, resting his weary body. “I have been thinking the same thing,” he said. “We will be waiting for him when he arrives.”
“It would make for a perfect ambush if we can single out de Lohr and steal him away before my brother can hurt him.”
It was a bit of covert tactics and he looked at her, approval in his eyes. “You are a clever little mouse,” he said, grinning. “I have never met a woman who thought so logically. Mayhap, you should have been the one to command Harold’s army. On second thought, it was a good thing that you did not. We more than likely would have lost.”
Ghislaine fought off a modest grin. “I am not a pampered Saxon lady, as you well know. I think like a warrior. It is how I have been trained.”
Gaetan was looking at her, the way her dark hair draped over her shoulder, the shape of her body beneath the cote that clung to her in places. But he also noticed she was sitting oddly with her right leg favored. He knew, from experience, that injuries like that hurt a great deal to the point where even routine movement was excruciating. But she bore it stoically; not even a whimper.
A strong lady, indeed.
“Your training has been invaluable in our quest to find our comrade,” he said. “In fact, I cannot imagine having made this journey without you.”
It was close to a compliment from Gaetan, as far as compliments went. He wasn’t the kind to give an encouraging or positive word, or so he seemed. Ghislaine dared to glance over her shoulder at him, her red cheeks partially obscured by her hair. “I would say that it is unfortunate that we had to make it in the first place, but somehow… somehow I am not. I believe some understanding has come out of this. Understanding for Normans. Mayhap you even understand my people more as well.”
He shrugged. “I understand that they are proud,” he said. “I understand that they are skilled but not organized.”
Before she could reply, more than likely to dispute his comment, Camulos wandered up, tail wagging. Instead of going to Gaetan, he went straight to Ghislaine and licked her on the chin with a big wet tongue and wet fur around his mouth. She groaned, wiping the slobbery kiss away.
“And I understand that Normans have smelly dogs that they treat like children,” she said, trying to move away from Camulos as he sat down next to her. “Why does this dog like me so much? Does he not know that I despise him?”
Gaetan laughed softly as his dog leaned against her. “He has good taste in people,” he said. “If he likes you, take it as a compliment.”
“I want him to go away.”
“Do you really?”
She thought better of her initial reply, which had been an affirmative. The dog had been her only companion when the knights had taken to ignoring her. Making a face that suggested surrender, she shook her head.
“I suppose I do not,” she said, putting a hand on the dog’s big head. “He is annoying but ridiculously sweet. I have never seen such an affectionate dog.”
Gaetan reached out to slap the dog affectionately on the back. “I acquired him with the hope that he would help me in battle,” he said. “Alas, that was not to be; the first battle I took him to, he ran right towards the enemy with his tail wagging. They almost stole him from me.”
Ghislaine looked at the dumb dog, grinning in spite of herself. “I would believe it,” she said. “I suppose he is not entirely annoying.”
Gaetan watched her pet the animal, who lapped up the attention. “He likes you a great deal,” he said. “In fact, you may have to take him with you when you return home. I am not entirely sure he will be happy with me any longer.”
Return home. Ghislaine pondered those words. In truth, she hadn’t even thought of returning to Tamworth since this quest started and now that the eventuality was on her mind, she realized that she couldn’t return to her lonely life. She would miss these arrogant, powerful knights who had made her feel more companionship than she’d ever felt in her life. She would miss this silly dog, the jittery priest, and the sense of purpose they all had. She didn’t want to lose any of it.
Her movements slowed as she continued to pet the dog.
“I do not think I should return home,” she said.
Gaetan’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh?” he asked. “Why not?”
She shrugged, feeling very bold with what she was about to say. “Because I do not think I should leave you alone in this country,” she said. “You do not know the people or the customs, but I do. I… I think I would be of great value to you.”
Gaetan watched her for a moment before a faint smile began to tug at his lips. He was quite glad she’d made that suggestion because the thought of her returning home, of leaving him, didn’t sit well with him either. The thought of losing his little mouse was a sad thought, indeed.
“You think so?” he said. He pretended to think o
n it. “Once I reclaim Kristoph, I am moving on to the north. I have been asked to secure it.”
She looked at him, then. “Then you need me,” she said firmly. “The north is a wild place with tribes and customs you would not understand. I understand them and I could be of great help to you.”
His smile grew when he realized she was eager to do it. Eager to go with him. God, was it really possible that she might be feeling something for him as he was feeling for her? It seemed like an impossibility given how they’d met and the trouble they’d had during their association, but there was no denying the magnetism between them. He looked at her, she looked at him, and the world seemed to stop for a moment. He couldn’t remember when it hadn’t always been like that.
He couldn’t imagine never seeing her again.
“You have already been of great help to me,” he said. “But what of your home? Won’t Edwin miss your presence? Surely he cannot do without you, either.”
Ghislaine shrugged, looking back to the silly dog. “There is nothing for me at Tamworth,” she said. “With Hakon gone these two years, there has been nothing there for me ever since he died. That place is a tomb for me. I do not want to go back, not ever.”
Gaetan was curious about the dead husband, the man she’d only mentioned once. “Hakon,” he repeated. Now the husband had a name. “You said that he had drowned?”
“Aye.”
“May I ask how it happened?”
It was a polite question. Strangely, she didn’t feel the angst she usually felt when answering it. “There was a shipwreck two years ago at Ponthieu when Harold tried to take men into France,” she said. “Hakon, as my husband, was one of Harold’s knights. He was one of the few to drown in the shipwreck.”
Gaetan remembered the incident, mostly because one of his allies had taken Harold hostage for a time after the shipwreck. “There were several ships, as I recall, tossed about by a storm.”
Ghislaine nodded. “Aye.”
“Did you have children?”
“Nay.”
“But you miss him.”
It was a statement, not a question. Ghislaine nodded, once. “Every day.”
She left it at that and Gaetan didn’t push her. He was starting to understand her sorrow at a dead husband she was evidently fond of, but it seemed more than that. No more husband, a home she didn’t want to return to… was that why she was willing to escort his knights northward? Because it helped her forget the memories of a dead husband? She was a lady with secrets and sorrows. Perhaps she was running from them; perhaps not. In any case, he appreciated that he was coming to know her a little more, as moments of conversation like this on this journey had been rare. But as he looked at her lovely face, he caught a glimpse of her red cheeks as she was looking at the dog. He’d been leaning back on an elbow but now he sat up.
“Why are your cheeks so red?” he asked. “Come here. Let me feel your face.”
The smile vanished from Ghislaine’s lips when she realized he was on to her secret. “That is not necessary,” she said quickly. “It… it is the sun. It has burned my face.”
Gaetan’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “That does not look like a burn from the sun to me.”
“It is.”
He didn’t believe her; that was clear. In an instant, he was reaching around the dog and grabbing Ghislaine by the arm, pulling her over to him so he could put a hand to her face. She tried to pull away but he laid a big palm against her forehead and, immediately, his eyes widened.
“You have a fever,” he said seriously. “How long has this been going on?”
Ghislaine looked at him fearfully. “I am sure I do not have a fever,” she insisted weakly. “It is simply too much sun.”
Gaetan sighed faintly. “Mousie, you do, indeed, have a fever,” he said, somewhat gently. “I must look at your wound. There is poison in it.”
Ghislaine was looking at him with great distress, completely overlooking the fact that he’d called her mousie, a pet version of the “little mouse” term that he seemed to like so much when addressing her. Had she not been so afraid of his discovery of her fever, she would have been very touched. Flattered, even.
Giddy.
“It can wait until we reach Worcester,” she insisted. “Truly, I feel fine. I simply think I have had too much sun.”
Gaetan acted as if he hadn’t heard her. “We must get you to Worcester immediately and seek a physic,” he said. “They do have physics in this barbaric country, don’t they?”
She nodded. “Aye,” she said. As Gaetan began to rise, she grabbed him by the arm, preventing him from moving. When he looked at her, curiously, she gazed up at him with teary eyes. “Promise me you will not leave me in Worcester while you go on without me. I do not want to be left behind.”
Gaetan had never been one to be swayed be feminine wiles or tears but, at this moment, he was quite swayed by the tears. He didn’t like to see them on her face. “I cannot make any promises,” he said, though it was gently done. “If you are ill, you cannot travel. You know that.”
Her features crumpled. “I do not want to be left alone,” she wept as tears streamed down her face. “This mission is as much mine as it is yours. I must see it through.”
Gaetan felt a good deal of pity for her. Taking the hand that was on his arm, he lifted it to his lips for a tender kiss simply to comfort her. “You are very dedicated and I appreciate that,” he said patiently. “But if you are ill, you cannot…”
Ghislaine was so distraught that she couldn’t even spare the thrill for the kiss he’d just given her. “Please!”
She was weeping louder now, attracting attention. Gaetan sighed heavily as he rose to his feet, lifting her up to stand. De Russe, the ever-present protector, was immediately at her side, appearing quite concerned with her tears.
“What has happened?” he asked her. “What did Gaetan say to you?”
Gaetan rolled his eyes. “I did not say anything to her,” he snapped quietly. “She is running a fever. We must get her to town and locate a physic. If her leg is becoming poisoned, then it must be treated.”
The concern on de Russe’s features grew. “I knew it was a dirty wound,” he muttered, reaching out to take Ghislaine’s right arm as Gaetan took the left. “Come along, my lady. We will go and find you a physic.”
Ghislaine was feverish and unhappy. She pulled her arms from their grips even though they were only attempting to help her. “I can walk alone,” she said, incensed. “I am not feverish. It is simply the sun.”
Gaetan looked at Aramis’ questioning expression over the top of her head, shaking his head faintly to indicate that the lady was wrong in her assessment of her illness.
“Then let us at least get you out of the sun,” Gaetan said patiently.
By this point, the other knights were gathering around her, drawn by her weeping. De Moray and de Winter, in particular, were looking at her with great concern.
“My lady?” de Moray asked. “What has happened?”
Gaetan prevented her from answering. “The lady is ill,” he said. “Get the horses. We must leave for Worcester immediately.”
“I am not ill!”
“Of course not.”
Gaetan had an amazing amount of patience with her as they headed for the horses. He wanted her to ride with him but she balked, insisting she ride her own horse, so de Lara brought the mare around and helped her to mount. Her leg was very tender, making it uncomfortable to ride, but de Lara was clever. In helping her mount, he was able to get a hand on her leg, pretending to help her but what he really wanted to do was feel the limb to see if it had any temperature to it. Once he helped the lady settle, he turned and walked past Gaetan, muttering in the man’s ear.
“Her leg is on fire.”
Gaetan’s heart sank. Gesturing to his knights to mount up, soon they were all moving in the direction of Worcester, which was less than an hour away. They could see the top of the cathedral as soon as they left the th
icket and passed onto the road, and then on to the city that was still devastated by tribal wars and a flooding river.
Now, as they entered the outskirts of the beaten city and headed towards the city center, the fever that Ghislaine had been trying to ignore was growing worse. She could tell because her eyeballs were growing hot, a sure sign that her fever was worsening. She also felt strangely weak and her head was swimming and rather foggy. It was an increasing effort for her to stay upright on her mare because she wanted nothing more than to lay down and sleep.
Behind her, she could hear small talk from the knights as they passed into the town. De Russe, riding behind her, came up beside her and handed her a purple flower that he’d ripped from a vine they’d passed. The flower brought a weak smile to her face and she held on to it as they continued into the town proper, past the waddle and daub buildings and the inhabitants of the town who, at just past noon, were winding down their business for the day.
Children ran about, playing, and Camulos found a dog friend to sniff at but the dog ran off, leaving poor Camulos rather bewildered. But Ghislaine didn’t notice any of it; she was starting to feel dizzy as her flaming cheeks and burning eyes raged. It hurt to even keep her eyes open, so she closed them, briefly, to bring them some relief.
Up ahead, Gaetan was speaking to Téo and Wellesbourne about the town and the possibility of finding a physic for Ghislaine. But as they chatted, a shout from behind stopped them.
Gaetan turned around, swiftly, just in time to see Ghislaine hit the ground as she fell from her horse, unconscious.
“When did you say she was injured?”
All nine knights, Jathan, and the silly dog were crowded into a small, grossly dirty one-room hut that was near the Worcester cathedral. Mannig was the man asking the question. The abbot at Worcester had referred the knights to him when they’d shown up at the cathedral door carrying a feverish, half-conscious woman. Mannig was actually an apothecary, not a physic, but he was known to treat the sick and injured and, at the moment, he was the best option they had. The abbot didn’t know of a local physic to refer, so they had to go with the apothecary. Gaetan, greatly distressed by the turn of events, answered the man’s question.
Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume 1 Page 22
