Debra Kay Leland (2 page)

Phillip watched as sleep took him again with a worried frown
, hardly aware of what he agreed to... 
“Aye, I swear it.”

Lord Sheridan opened the door to his son’s chamber and walked in quietly.  Phillip straightened and stood as he glanced at the older man who came forward and stood beside him with worried eyes, not sure if he should speak to him of what William had told him.  His father’s dark brows knit together as he watched his son struggle in his sleep; his own fear that William would never fully recover written on his tired weary features as he whispered, “…He sleeps fitfully…”

“Aye, m’lord, though—though he did awaken for a time, but he would not that
I leave his side to get thee…”

The older man nodded
with relief.  “Thank goodness…  I trust thee, Phillip… and I am much relieved that he has again awakened; but yet, I would be more reassured if he slept peacefully this night.  At times he does, but then at others he struggles even within his sleep.”

“Aye...”

The older man looked at his son’s squire with a frown.  “Did he say anything to thee of the night?”

Phillip hesitated and dropped his eyes hoping William’s father could not see the truth as he spoke.  “Nay, m’lord, though I fear he is not quite himself.”

He sighed and turned back to his son again; worry sweeping across his weathered features.  The young man lived, that much was true, but would he ever recover and be the same as he was before?  He just didn’t know… 
“I fear for him.”

“Aye, as do I.” 
But for Phillip it was more than he could ever speak.

Lord Sheridan took his son’s trembling hand and held it before he slowly sank down into his chair again, praying that somehow all would be well...

Phillip stepped silently away, glancing back at father and son before he closed the heavy door behind him.  He sank down into the wooden bench just outside his friend’s chambers where he had sat for the past few weeks, waiting and worrying to be told the worst—and yet even now, he could not help but worry as never before...! 
One of their own, was it possible?!
  His eyes went to the guards who stood not far from him, knowing it could be any of them
!

He gave himself a mental shake and lowered his eyes again at his own wayward thoughts.  He had to keep his head for William’s sake!  For it was possible that even one of the villagers had stolen the armor and had trained himself how to
fight; it was not unheard of-- and if it were true, then all his worrying would be for not!  But yet, if indeed it were one of their own, the man would have had to either ridden with them to Glenton Moore or had left the castle on his own accord and laid in wait for him there.  Though, to find William as he did in such commotion and darkness and smoke; no, it could not have been just by chance.  The man would have had to have ridden with them and followed William that day hoping to find him alone so he could draw his sword on him!

Phillip almost shivered at the thought that one of their own could do such an evil thing! 
But why
?!  It made no sense!  William was a goodly man, loyal and honorable, and all considered him to be a friend.  If it were a villager the reason was more than evident—but if it were one of their own what could the man have gained but revenge?!  And those who knew William knew him to be fair!  He frowned even harder.

William
himself was merely the second son of the Earl without even title to his name save that of being a Knight—
it made no sense!  What would one gain in doing such?!
 
Unless, it was for revenge against the Earl himself and not William...?!
  He sighed and glanced around again knowing he would need to talk to Thomas as soon as he could and find out if there were any rumors of what had happened in the villages…  And he would need to know who had ridden with them, and not returned; or who it was that might hate William enough to do this to him…  He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees and then ran a tense hand through his hair as he glanced up at the guards again with worried eyes…

It was just before day break when his father noticed that the trembling in William’s body had finally ceased, his raging breaths were now calmed, and he slept…  And yet he could not help but worry on
…

Thomas came up the long curved staircase an
d met Phillip’s worried eyes.

Phillip stood and drew him to the side glancing back at t
he guards who now watched him.

“What is it?!  Tell me true that he is not worse!” 
Thomas said with concern.

Phillip glanced back at the guards and shook his head as he lowered his voice,
“William rests, but I have need to speak with thee…!  Things are far worse than either of us knew…!”

Thomas frowned at the other man’s words as they stepped farther down the dim hall, speaking in a low tense whisper,
“Far worse?!  But ye told me he had begun to recover?”

Phillip glanced back again before he spoke making sure that the guards were not overly concerned with their actions,
“’Tis true, though William awoke and what he told me gives us each need to worry
.”  He tightened his grip on the other man’s arm and told him of the things that William had said.

Thomas’
frown hardened with each tense word, his heart filling with worry and anger at the same time. 
“Can it be possible he is mistaken!”

Phillip shook his head warily. 
“Nay, I do not believe so—and even if he is wrong, we cannot take a chance with his life and just do nothing!”

Thomas glanced around them with narrowed eyes feeling the threat that surrounded them. 
“What ye ask shall take time, ye know that.”

“Aye, I know, but none are to be trusted save the man’s father!  As for me, I shall keep watch as he sleeps—have thy sister see to his food, tell her to only bring that which the men themselves are served and tell her to
speak these words to no one!  For until we are sure who has done this thing, we shall take no chances!”

Thomas frowned at his words. 
“Aye, and I shall go and see what I can find in the village and with the men.  I only hope that ye are wrong.”

“As do I…”  He clasp the man’s hand in an oath before he went back to the bench by the door, his eyes following Thomas as he headed down the long dim hall before they went to the guards who had paused to watch them speak.  He cringed at the thought that one of their own might have done this terrible thing and prayed
that it wasn’t true…

W
illiam awoke only a few times, though not for long in the days that followed; yet each time gave them hope that soon he might be well again.  And to his word, Phillip never left him alone.  When his father was not with him himself, Phillip and Thomas were never far away.  And as the days turned into weeks, though William had slowly began to recover, yet they worried on for neither of them had been able find any proof that would point to whoever had done this evil thing.  It could have been anyone—and they worried that whoever it might have been would find a way to finish the deed!

Thomas had gone to the village, but had not heard a whisper of any who had armor and could fight, nor had any man that had ridden with them not returned—save
James’ men, who had gone with him to Kent and until they returned he could not know for sure.  But even that did not make sense to him, for James’ men had no reason to do such a thing to William!  He had no claim on the title, nor the lands!  And even James’ men were treated with respect by William.  No, it made no sense at all—and yet someone truly had tried to kill him…!

The afternoon sun hung heavy in the sky as William awoke again and tried to sit up unsteadily, touching his head as he did so.  He glanced at his friend who was now standing aside him with a grim look on his young face.  “I am fine, Phillip, ye need not worry so.”  He glanced around blinking as he straightened.  “Tell me I have not lost the entire day yet again?”

“Aye, ’tis nigh eventide, but the rest has done ye good,
for each day ye look better.”

William sighed heavily and sank back against the pillows again
knowing what the mirror had told him of the swelling and blackened eyes that had yet remained on his thin pale face.  “I fear I shall not recover speedily...”  He paused and his face grew grim knowing that the longer he stayed, the greater the opportunity that his own brother might yet try to take his life—though he spoke his concerns to no one.  “Has there been any news...?”

“Nay, William, all is well.  We shall not let anythi
ng happen to thee, I promise.”

He nodded and looked towards the window
, his thoughts distant and troubled.  Phillip watched him knowing what he was thinking of again; the same troubling thoughts that had haunted them all.  Though he was thankful that the wound had healed and that William’s wits had also grown stronger, yet he still worried for his health and his safety.  William hardly spoke of the attack now, but yet they all knew it was ever on his mind.  He slowly sat up again, pulling himself towards the end of the bed.  “Then… I would like to take my meal in the great hall tonight with my father and his men.”

Phillips jumped up, worry written on his face as William stood
unsteadily.  “Nay, William, ‘tis too soon!”

But he merely smiled.  “I shall manage, Phillip.  Come now, do not look so worried.  ‘Tis time I showed my face at my father’s table.  Perhaps
, it would convince those watching that they have nothing to fear from me.”

The Phillip scowled at his words, but yet agreed.  He knew that William would somehow make it down
the stairs to the great hall even if they had to carry him.  And he also knew that he was right, it was time…

Somehow, William did
manage and sat at his father’s high table with Phillip and Thomas on either side of him.  His father’s knights were already seated along the sides waiting for the meal to begin and when they saw him being helped towards the great curved stairs, all stood and a cheer went up at the sight of him as he came down to join them.  His father stood also and hurried to his side, hugging him hardily before he helped him to the table.  “Are ye well enough to attempt such a thing, William?”

He smiled
warmly.  “Aye, father, I am.”

His father’s smile matched his own.  “Alas, it does my heart good to see thee up and at my tab
le again.  Come sit, William!”

He sat down unsteadily and smiled at those who wished him well.  Phillip
and Thomas sat down too, glancing at their friend with worried eyes as they ate, knowing that William didn’t have to do much to convince those seated there that he was not well, for his ashen color and unsteady hands told more than words ever could.

He glanced around the table unable to ignore his brother’s vacant seat and scolded himself for thinking dark thoughts right then, and yet the thoughts would not leave him…  He knew there was no love lost between them.  And though it was a hard thought, it was the only thing that made sense—that for mere hatred James had wished him dead; and yet he could not bring himself to speak it.

It was a slow journey back, nigh three months, and the whole while James had yet to show his face at Whittington with the excuse of the grainery they built, saying it took longer than they expected.  It was no surprise that none of his messages inquired as to his brother’s health.  What was sent only gave them a timeline for his returned and one that William took seriously!  But yet, his brother’s absence gave him the opportunity to mend and that’s all he needed, just a little more time...  He took his meals in the great hall and rode with Thomas and Phillip near the castle, each time venturing out a little farther, and each time growing a little stronger...  But in truth, it wasn’t until he took his sword in hand as they practiced that he felt that all would be well once again—and that finally he was ready to go on.

T
hree weeks later he finally went down to his father’s solar to bid him farewell, knowing all the while that his father had no idea of the words he would soon speak to him.  James had not yet returned—but from all reports the mill was nigh completed; and he had sent word back to Whittington saying to expect him at any time.  For William, it was taken as a threat even if the rest of Whittington talked happily about his brother’s return…  But he himself could not help but worry—though he had no proof that his brother was involved, yet in his heart he knew it to be true...

The headaches remained, though they were fewer and farther between, and it gave him hope that soon he would be well again.  But though he wasn’t fully recovered he knew it was just as risky to leave, as to stay here—and yet, what choice did he have?  The amour and the skilled swordsman all pointed to one of their own men, and only James’ men had not been accounted for.  And he knew his brother wished him harm, for had he not spoken such a thousand times over in their youth, and even the very day they had ridden out in battle…?