Daralys forced her eyes open and saw the gentle gaze of the dying woman beside her.
“I do not need to know about my death. It comes for me. I cannot prevent it. I merely want to know if my sons will be happy.”
She took a deep breath and held fast to the baroness’ hand, allowing her thoughts to drift, seeing what would unfold.
Opening her eyes, she pressed a kiss to Lady Anne’s hand. “The war with France will heat up more than a decade from now. Your three sons will fight with the Duke of Lancaster as he invades France.” She paused. “Your oldest and youngest will survive. They will wed and father eight children between them. Your middle boy will die bravely on the battlefield.”
Lady Anne’s face crumpled. She fell back against the pillows, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“I am glad two of my sons will go on. I will be waiting for my other boy and greet him with open arms. Thank you for telling me.”
“I hope knowing what you do will give you some peace in your last days.”
The baroness smiled weakly. “And what’s to become of you, my sweet Daralys, once I am gone?” Her eyes flicked over her charge. “You have not told me of who hurt you and I have been too weak and ill to ask. What will your father say when you return to him in your condition?”
Daralys sensed her cheeks heating with shame. “I thought I had kept it from you, my lady.”
“You have done a good job of hiding it. I’m sure no one else has guessed since you’ve rarely left my side during my confinement and after the birth. You have been not only my companion and nurse but a daughter to me, my child. I only wish I could have protected you more.” She paused, her breathing more labored. “Go. There is nothing more you can do for me. Take care of yourself now.”
Her eyelids fluttered and closed, giving Daralys time to compose the fear running through her. She had ignored the early signs when her monthly flow ceased and her breasts grew tender. Then her belly began to swell and she could no longer ignore what would occur. Soon, she felt the babe’s kicks and would rub her hands in small circles, trying to calm the life within her.
The gift which she used to help others without their knowledge had never been one available to her. She had no idea what her future held. What her father would say when she returned to his household carrying a babe created in anger. Daralys could only hope it would be born in love.
Suddenly, a peace descended upon her and she knew this babe would have a home.
It was called Kinwick.
She knew the name. The castle lay two estates east from her father’s. A place called Wellbury stood between them. Daralys had no idea why she was supposed to go there but the urge to leave at once filled her. Mayhap her babe was supposed to be born at Kinwick. She knew from Lady Anne how long it took for a babe to come. Counting backward, she knew her time to deliver drew near.
She needed to leave Vauville. Today.
Returning to her small bedchamber, Daralys looked about. She had a chest of clothing and an old pair of boots that she’d outgrown several years ago. She would need to travel light and decided to take nothing with her. She would leave tonight and decided that the gatekeeper might help her in this endeavor. Leaving the keep, she made her way to the blacksmith. His family and the gatekeeper’s shared rooms above the smithy’s shed.
She nodded at the blacksmith, who gave her a ready smile as he pounded away, creating a new horseshoe. Daralys made her way up the stairs and knocked on the door. The gatekeeper’s wife opened the door and drew her into an embrace. Somehow, the woman knew without being told that Daralys had seen exactly where her boy was as he lay injured in the forest and always treated her warmly.
“I have need of a favor,” she told the woman.
“Anything. My husband and I owe you a great deal.”
Quickly, she explained what she needed and when she wanted to leave.
“I will speak to my husband. It will be as you ask.” The woman pressed her lips together, no questions asked.
“Thank you.”
Daralys returned to the keep and waited inside her bedchamber until it was time for the evening meal to commence. She made her way downstairs to the great hall, which filled with tenants, soldiers, and servants, and approached the dais where Lord Harold sat.
“My lord? May I speak with you?”
He stared at her a moment, as if trying to place her. Though she’d been under his roof a good ten years, Daralys was plain of face. The lord of Vauville only chased the skirts of the comely. Then he nodded, as if he’d finally realized who she was.
“Aye, my lady. Does this regard my wife? Has her health improved?”
“Nay, my lord. I fear Lady Anne is fading fast. You might wish to spend time with her this evening. She will soon depart for Heaven.”
The baron came to his wife’s chambers once or twice a week in order to get more sons off her. Once the noblewoman conceived, he rarely stopped by and hadn’t come to see her since she’d lost the last babe a week ago. Daralys despised the man but kept her face neutral, not revealing her feelings.
He frowned. “I see. What do you need?” he asked impatiently, as if she prevented him from something more important as he took a sip of wine.
“My father has requested that I return to Goldwell. He has found a husband for me.”
“Is he sending a guard to escort you home?”
“Aye. They should arrive in the morning before mass.”
Lord Harold looked relieved to be done with her. “Safe travels, then,” he said briskly, dismissing her as a servant arrived with his trencher.
Daralys curtseyed and went to the kitchen. Cook had a tray prepared for her as she did every evening.
“Lady Anne any better?” the stout woman asked.
“Nay. She is most ill.”
“I will pray for her. She is a good woman.”
Daralys took the tray to her room and ate both the meal intended for her and the bread and broth that was Lady Anne’s. The noblewoman hadn’t eaten bread in a week and only took a sip or two of broth each day. She wouldn’t miss this and Daralys could use the extra portion.
After the meal ended and people returned the trestle tables to the walls, she took the tray down to the kitchen. She removed a small round of cheese and another loaf of bread when no one was looking and took these to her room, tying them into a scarf. Daralys wrapped her cloak about her and crept down the corridor to enter Lady Anne’s chamber a final time.
The baroness lay sleeping, her breathing sporadic. Daralys doubted the noblewoman would last the night. She bent and kissed the woman’s brow and then left the room and the keep. Returning to the smithy’s shed, the gatekeeper’s wife awaited her. Without a word, they went to the stables where the gatekeeper met them in front, a horse already saddled.
“I’ve left young Bill at the gates,” the man said. “I told him my stomach was cramping and I’d be back shortly.”
He hoisted Daralys onto the horse’s back and she tied the scarf around the saddle horn.
“Are you sure you want to leave this way, my lady?” he asked.
She nodded. “It’s what I’m meant to do. I have come to trust my instincts.”
He patted her knee. “Your instincts brought our son home to us. We can never repay you for helping to bring our boy home.”
“You are now, by helping me to leave Vauville.”
“I worry about you. Out on the road alone.”
“God is with me,” she said with certainty.
“Come.”
He took the reins and led the horse across the bailey. His wife parted from them, returning to their rooms. As they came close to the front gates, he paused.
“Wait here in the shadows. I’ll send Bill to fetch the healer to find something to ease my stomach pains. Once he’s out of sight, I’ll open the gates enough for you to get out. Keep close to the castle walls and then break for the woods so no sentry will see you.”
The gatekeeper returned to his post an
d, soon after, she saw a figure between a boy and a man hurry across the bailey. She waited until he rounded the corner and nudged the horse with her knees, turning him toward the gates. As Daralys approached, they swung open a ways and she moved through them quickly, keeping to the wall as suggested. With England at peace, Lord Harold only had a few men on duty at night, one watching in each direction away from the castle. That would be her saving grace. The soldiers stationed along the wall walk looked to prevent men from invading and didn’t watch for anyone leaving.
The cold night was full of clouds blocking the moon from sight. Daralys crept along the wall until it was time to make for the forest. She walked the horse out several paces and glanced over her shoulder to see if she could spy the sentry on her side.
She did—and found him at the far end where the south and east walls intersected. He stood with his back to her, another soldier next to him. Thankful the two men conversed as they stared out to the east, she clicked her tongue and trotted the horse into the nearby woods. Their carelessness had let her escape without being seen. Since she’d told Lord Harold her escort party would arrive and depart before mass, he wouldn’t give her another thought.
The feeling inside her told her she would be safe until she reached Kinwick. She knew home lay a few days to the south. From there, she would head east to her destination.
The babe kicked hard within her and she placed her hand across her belly.
“You are going home, little one, to someone who will love you very much,” she promised.
Daralys wondered who that someone might be.
Chapter Two
Kinwick Castle
Merryn de Montfort awoke, her back nestled against her husband’s chest. Geoffrey’s arm lay protectively around her thickening waist. She listened to him breathing and sent a prayer to the Heavens, once again thanking the Christ for returning him to her.
They had been wed over seven years—yet they had spent only seven months together. War hadn’t kept them apart. Something much worse had.
Lord Berold . . .
It was hard to believe the nobleman had kept Geoffrey in his dungeons for years, punishing him for bringing to light the treason Berold’s son had committed. The earl had allowed her and Geoffrey to wed, only to take him hostage. Merryn hadn’t known what had become of her husband of a single day but kept hope alive in her heart that someday he would return to her.
Geoffrey had—seven months ago—thanks to the spiteful earl’s death. With Berold’s passing, his heir released Geoffrey from his prison. Her husband had come home a broken man in both body and spirit. For a time, Merryn didn’t know if he would stay, much less become the Geoffrey of old, one whom she’d loved since they were children.
In his place, a new Geoffrey arose. One born from the suffering of a brave knight. He’d told her his love for her kept him fighting to survive during his long imprisonment. Merryn’s hand went to the arm about her, fingering the thick scars on Geoffrey’s wrist from the shackles that had chained him for so long. The scars remained on his body. The emotional torture had threatened to undo him. Thankfully, their love for one another had stood the test of time and healed him over the past few months.
The babe she carried would also help continue the healing process. Already, the twins had lightened Geoffrey’s heart. He spent hours with them, trying to make up for the time they’d been apart. Alys had taken to her father from the beginning, showering him with affection. Ancel had been slower to accept the father he’d never seen. But once the boy opened his heart, the love between father and son had formed a bond that would never be broken. Ancel favored his father in so many ways, from his looks to his mannerisms. Her boy had helped Merryn keep Geoffrey’s memory alive for every day she had only to look at the son in order to see his father.
She wondered what the new babe would look like. If it would be a boy or girl. What they would name the child.
Warm lips began caressing her neck and Merryn smiled.
“Good morn to you, Wife.”
She turned and though darkness still surrounded them, she knew he also wore a smile.
“How is my handsome husband today?”
“Ready to start his day the only way he knows how.”
Geoffrey kissed her, slow and sweet, the familiar taste and feel of him causing her heart to beat faster. Desire rippled through her and she stroked his bare chest, raking her nails slowly down it to his manhood. He deepened their kiss, his fingers pushing into her hair. Though she’d worn it in a braid for years when she went to bed, he liked it unbound and Merryn found she enjoyed pleasing him in small ways.
He pulled her atop him and lowered her onto his shaft, letting her set the pace of their love play. His fingers teased her breasts, more sensitive now that she carried a babe again, and then moved to run along her burgeoning belly. She eased away from him and then let him sink inside her again, filling her not only physically but with joy. Merryn would never get enough of this man. The years spent apart had been hard ones. She intended for their many years ahead to be ones of purpose, building their family, protecting the people of Kinwick, and living with the precious gift of love each day.
She felt the rising tide build within her and spill over, crying out as he did the same. Merryn collapsed against his chest, spent.
“I like the way you start a day, Husband,” she teased. “If you’re good, I suggest we end our day the same way.”
He kissed her and she felt the smile on his lips.
Suddenly, her body moved in a way it hadn’t in several years. She drew in a swift breath.
“Is that what I think it is?” Geoffrey asked. “Are you quickening?”
He eased her to the bed so they faced one another. He brought a hand to her belly and placed his palm flat against it. They waited, holding their breaths. Then the subtle kick came again.
She laughed. “’Tis our babe,” she confirmed. “The first time I’ve felt the life inside me. From experience, I know it’s always easier to feel if I’m lying or sitting still.”
He nuzzled her neck, his beard lightly grazing her. “I missed this before. I didn’t know what it would be like.”
Merryn heard the wonder in his voice.
“It’s a true miracle. A babe is a gift from God.”
Geoffrey’s other hand pushed her hair from her face. He kissed her brow. “To think, a life we made together now grows inside you, coming to life.”
He kissed his way down her nose and throat, between the valley of her breasts, his lips coming to rest against her belly.
“Do you hear me, little de Montfort?” he asked softly. “I am your father. You’re safe inside your mother, the best mother in all of England. Mayhap the world.”
Waiting, the fluttering kick occurred again and Geoffrey kissed the spot. “We are waiting for you, your mother and I. Your sister and brother. All of Kinwick. You are a babe conceived in love. One born of not only passion but the belief your mother and I have in one another. We cannot wait to see you.”
He kissed her belly once more and then gave her a soft, lingering kiss before pulling the bed curtain aside.
“Come. We must dress for mass and give thanks to the Eternal Christ for blessing us with another child.”
Merryn extended her hand and Geoffrey helped her rise from the bed. He enveloped her in his arms.
“Do you know how much happiness you bring to me?” he asked.
“Hopefully, as much as you give me,” she replied.
He helped her to dress and she returned the favor. They went to the twins’ bedchambers and Geoffrey disappeared inside Ancel’s while she went to awaken Alys and help ready her for the day.
Merryn watched Alys struggle to move one of the heavy pots containing hyssop. She’d learned not to intervene and help her daughter. Alys was always one who would want to do things on her own. Merryn encouraged the girl’s independent spirit. She wanted Alys to be able to do for herself. It was a lesson Merryn had to learn in the years
Geoffrey was away and the running of Kinwick fell to her after Ferand’s death.
Instead, she moved to the two containers of thyme. It was one of the hardiest of the herbs she grew in winter and quite bushy, though she had picked leaves from it only days ago. As Alys grunted to shift the pot of hyssop, Merryn began quizzing her. It was a game Alys enjoyed and she excelled at giving answers.
“Tell me what herb I have here,” she said as she fingered it.
“Thyme. The more you pick its leaves, the better it grows. That pot has lemon-scented thyme,” Alys replied.
“Very good. What can we use thyme for?”
“Mostly to help a cough or cold, though Cook likes me to bring her some to put in the stew.” Alys paused. “Some say it helps to keep you from aging so quickly.”
Merryn smiled. “Excellent. And what of the hyssop that you just moved? Those spikes of blue flowers are quite pretty.”
“The flowers can be used, along with the leaves. We can steep them in boiling water to help loosen mucus. When people drink it, they cough up the mucus and are rid of it. Remember, we gave it to Ancel last year at Christmastime. He had a very bad cough.”
“I do remember. It was your idea to give it to him.”
“We also used sage for Ancel, didn’t we, Mother?” the girl asked.
“We did. Can you recall why?”
Alys frowned, her brow wrinkling as she concentrated. “Oh, I know. You said it would help a cold or cough but it was the best remedy for a sore throat.” Alys giggled. “You made Ancel gargle with it after we boiled and strained it. He had to do it three times a day. He hated that.”
“I know. He isn’t very good at gargling, is he?”
Alys shook her head. “Ancel is impatient. Boys are impatient. He should take his time but he hates to slow down to do anything he doesn’t like to do. Girls are different.”
“That’s what makes the world a special place. Because boys and girls are very different from one another.”
Merryn dragged a vessel so that the pot of sage sat in the full sun. “Though all these herbs need watering, sage should never be over-watered.”
A Night of Angels Page 34
