Elaine Barbieri (3 page)

If
he recovered.

With the realization that the warrior’s life was in her hands, Rosamund dipped a cloth into the water she had warmed at the fire. She rubbed it against the special soap she had fused with medicinal herbs and carefully cleansed the wound on the injured man’s chest. It began bleeding again under her ministrations and Rosamund frowned. With the dried blood cleared away, she could see that the wound was deep and raw. He appeared to have no trouble breathing, which indicated no complications there, but there was still the possibility that his wounds were beyond her healing ability.

Yet she could not afford to hesitate.

Rosamund picked up the pot of warm salve she commonly used for minor ailments and turned toward the medicine pouch that was never far from her side. Her mother had passed the knowledge of medicinal herbs to her when she was a child. She took a breath as she mixed herbs and salve into a poultice, spread some of the mixture against the wound, and then wrapped the rest in a clean cloth and pressed it against the chest wound.

The stranger began twisting and turning, obviously in the throes of fever. Uncertain how to handle his unexpected behavior, Rosamund sat back helplessly until the fellow began shouting loud, indecipherable orders and, in his delirium, suddenly attempted to rise. Fearing for him and the possibility that he would bring the soldiers down upon them, Rosamund threw herself across his body and whispered against his ear, “Be calm. I am trying to help you. You need not fear anything when I am with you. I will protect you.”

The man’s protests halted abruptly. He looked at her, his swollen eyes small slits of amber as his arms folded around her with unanticipated strength. Holding her tight against him, he demanded roughly, “Who are you?”

“My name is Ros…Ross. I am your friend.”

“My friend…”

The fellow searched her face for long moments. She felt the flat of his hand caress her back just before his eyelids closed and he released her.

Rosamund drew back, shuddering. She had felt the strength of the fellow’s grip even in his weakened state. He could easily have crushed her—could have broken every bone in her body—but he had instead chosen an incredibly gentle caress. She remembered the scrutiny of that narrowed, amber-eyed stare. He had trusted her, and she was determined to be worthy of his trust.

The injured man slipped into an unnatural sleep. He began shivering despite the warmth of the hut, and Rosamund pulled the worn coverlet up to shield him. She took a deep breath before dipping a cloth into the warm, soapy water and washing the blood from his face. The swelling there appeared to be increasing. His eyes would soon be completely closed, and he would soon no longer be able to breathe through his nose. She rinsed out the cloth when his face was clean, changed the water, and then ran the cloth across his lips again. Rosamund saw his tongue slip out to seek the moisture, and she raised a sip of ale to his lips. She did not see the moment when his eyes opened briefly, when he glimpsed her face, and then closed his eyes again to a more restful sleep.

Lowering the coverlet as her work progressed, Rosamund washed the full length of his muscular body—the powerful arms that had gripped her so tightly and the broad chest against which he had briefly clutched her. She paused at the breechcloth covering his vitals, her heart pounding. Determined to ignore her trembling hands, she bypassed the stained cloth and washed the dirt from his muscular legs. It was then that another inflamed injury came into view. The wound was clearly an old one that had festered from neglect or inadequate treatment.

No doctor…bloodletting weakens
.

She agreed with the stranger’s statement, but not with what ever alternate treatment he had employed. Taking another strained breath, she squeezed out the cloth and began washing the wound. The fellow reacted violently, thrashing and mumbling until she whispered against his ear, “Trust me. I am your friend.”

When he stilled, she washed away the discharge and considered the wound quietly. She had no choice but to cauterize it in order to burn away the festered, weeping flesh.

With slow deliberation, Rosamund placed a broad knife on the coals. She removed it with a cloth when it was heated through and approached the injured man. She knelt beside him and whispered into his ear, “This treatment is necessary. Please forgive me for the pain I will cause you.”

Rosamund pressed the flat of the hot blade to his wound. She swallowed sharply when his eyes snapped open with an instinctive protest that halted the moment
he saw her face. The scent of burning flesh rose between them as she whispered sincerely, “I am sorry.”

She saw the perspiration that rose to the man’s battered face in reaction to the pain of the hot blade. She was not aware of the tear that slipped down her cheek, and was startled when the stranger raised a shaky hand to brush it away. He whispered thickly, “I do not feel pain when I look into your eyes.”

His hand dropped to the mattress and his eyes closed. Rosamund’s heart leaped in her chest. No! It couldn’t be! He couldn’t be dead!

She caught her breath when she saw the pulse in his throat throbbing strongly. She raised her hand to the spot where he had brushed a tear from her cheek. Somehow the stranger had not doubted that the pain she had caused him was necessary, and his touch had been an acknowledgment of that fact. Why did she wish that the brief caress had meant something more?

Hadley looked up from the part of the foundation that had been laid according to the former master mason’s instructions. He had spent the past hour staring blankly at the plan and walking beside his friend, Horace, as they scrutinized the construction. The fellow had been one of many who had accompanied him to the site to add their talents to the project two days earlier. Horace had many comments about the work already executed there—most of them negative. Hadley had not liked what he saw either, however little that had been. He was as aware as Horace, however, that his friend’s true talents lay in carving the great blocks
of stone that would be used on the exterior of the cathedral. He was a true artisan despite his age, but he was not educated in the intricacies of construction. Horace had merely done him the favor of assisting him while Rosamund was absent. He appreciated his friend’s effort, but it only demonstrated more clearly than before how dependent he was on Rosamund’s presence.

An approaching horse man neared and Horace went still. Hadley could not see the fellow’s face clearly, but further identification was unnecessary. No other man rode so arrogantly, nor wore colors so vibrant as to proclaim without speech that his station was far superior to that of the common workmen who labored there.

The baron halted his horse and Hadley stiffened. Horace slipped away, granting them privacy as the baron inquired, “I see that a different fellow accompanied you on your rounds today. Where is the young apprentice so necessary to you that you were willing to challenge my authority for him?”

“Ross is presently at the hut that we will share.”

The baron’s handsome, clean-shaven face twitched as he repeated, “The hut you will share…”

“Ross is my apprentice, and he is almost a son to me. He has lived with me since…since William became king. He is presently in our new home tending to a fellow apprentice who had an accident.”

“So…Ross is a physician as well as being practically
a son
to you?”

“Ross is not a physician. He is merely versed in
Saxon remedies…knowledge taught to him by his former mistress when he was a lad.”

“Ah, yes…” The baron’s unexpected smile did not conceal the rapacious glint in his eye when he said, “I can understand the need to teach some simple rudiments to a young man such as he. I am sure that Ross has a supremely…
gentle touch
. The injured fellow you speak of is fortunate, indeed, to be treated by him.” He added as if in afterthought, “I, myself, am inclined to instruct Ross in matters that would benefit both of us. I am sure he would prove an avid student. I may yet avail myself of time with him in order to accomplish that purpose.”

His expression hardening when Hadley did not reply, the baron said haughtily, “That aside, it is plain to see that after two days you have altered very little at this site. I cannot be certain if your dependence on your
apprentice
is to be blamed, since he is otherwise occupied at present, but I feel the need to warn you that I am not a patient man.”

“I assure you that I am capable of handling the situation, my lord, but certain inspections are necessary before any changes are instituted. I will, however, be sure to inform you if I find…”

Hadley’s voice trailed away when he realized that the baron’s gaze had moved toward a spot behind him, and that the arrogant man was no longer listening. He turned to see a figure approaching. With her boyish garb and rough, elongated step, Rosamund should have stirred little attention, yet the interest sparked in the baron’s gaze could not be denied.

“Monsignor…”

The baron’s head snapped back toward him and Hadley continued softly, “My apprentice now approaches, as you can see. He is an able lad, and I am very fond of him. As I previously mentioned, he is necessary to the performance of my duties here. I find there are ways that I cannot do without him.”

“Really?” The baron dismounted as Rosamund drew near. His great stallion snorted as he secured it nearby and swept Rosamund’s slender proportions as she approached. He said, “I am drawn to the young fellow. I can understand how someone like him can become indispensable in many ways. I should like to test his abilities for myself.”

“I cannot spare him.”

“What?” The baron’s gaze grew heated as Rosamund stopped at Hadley’s side. He demanded incredulously, “Do you lay claim to the time with your apprentice that I would use?”

Hadley persisted, “Ross’s time is already heavily divided. The apprentice he is caring for was badly injured. His recuperation will be lengthy and Ross must be available to him.”

“I will not abide that loss of time! The fellow can recuperate elsewhere, tended by another.”

“The extent of the man’s injuries makes that impossible. Ross will be sorely pressed to maintain the fellow’s care and to perform his duty to me until the man is well again.”

“The injured fellow’s condition is of no great importance here or anywhere else. Apprentices such as he are easily replaced.”

“His condition is important to Ross, and thus important to me. I demand much of my apprentice.”

“You do…”

“I demand strict attention to detail so that nothing escapes me—detail that is essential to this project and of greatest importance to its successful completion.” Hadley paused before adding with a touch of subservience, “I only wish to do my best for you, my lord.”

The baron nodded stiffly. Turning to Rosamund, he put his hand on her shoulder and then slid it upward to force her face up to his when she avoided looking directly at him. He stared into her emotionless features as he stated without embarrassment, “Yes…I am strangely attracted to you, Ross. I have heard of the appeal of young men like you but have never deigned to taste the joys they are said to provide. With you, I am tempted.” Ignoring the shocked silence that his statement evoked, he continued, “In truth, I am more than tempted. I intend to sate the interest you stir in me, and I will not accept excuses.” Moving closer until the stiff proof of his passion pressed hard against Rosamund’s hip, he whispered, “What say you? I would hear your response now.”

The baron’s question hung in the air. Stunned by the hard pressure of his passion against her body and sickened by his belief that she was a young man who would fear reprisal if he refused to consent, she felt bile rise in her throat and did not respond as the baron’s hand slipped down from her shoulder. Aware that her secret would be revealed once he encountered the rounded mounds concealed by her voluminous, stained
shirt, she stepped back and said, “I have other, more pressing duties that demand my attention, my lord. I have no time for self-indulgence.”

The baron’s face flamed unexpectedly as he responded, “You intimate that my interest in you is self-indulgent?”

“Is it not?”

Ignoring Hadley’s gasp, the baron replied, “Perhaps it
is
self-indulgent, but it is a self-indulgence that I have earned in the king’s service.”

Rosamund replied to his outrageous statement with spontaneous indignation. “You have
earned
nothing on this land that you stole from simple, poorly trained Saxons who sought to live their lives peacefully—land that William gave you as a reward for your butchery!”

His gaze narrowed, the baron ordered, “Mind your tongue, Ross. My patience grows thin.”

“Do you issue another command to me? I thought you had requested a response to your question. I gave it honestly. To my mind, you could not ask for more.”

“To my mind, your impertinence is dangerous. If I did not desire you—”

“You desire me, but I do not desire you! I am, instead, appalled to hear that you would have me abandon a man who shares my birthright. You say he may be easily replaced. If that is true, I am Saxon and may be easily replaced by you as well—I would hope by one of the young maids who look at you with covetous eyes, not by a young man like me.”

“How easily you speak those words.” The baron eyed Rosamund with escalating heat. “Were I not unexpectedly
enthralled by your appeal, they would damn you.”

“Would they? Methinks you are too enthralled with dreams of a great future to forsake the impression you hope to make with the glorious cathedral you plan. Methinks you will realize that I am presently indispensable here and because time has already been wasted on your grand plan, you will sate your desires on a more favorable and willing personage.”

“The tongue of a serpent!”

The baron’s handsome face reddened, but Rosamund stood fast. She did not see the panic on Hadley’s face when he interjected, “My lord, Ross does not mean what he says. He—”

“Silence!” the baron’s wrath exploded with a single word in Hadley’s direction. Then he turned back to Rosamund. “I find that I admire your audacity in speaking to me without restraint when I requested an honest answer.” Closing the short distance between them, he loomed over her with his superior height and said, “For that reason you will escape reprisal this time, but be forewarned…I will not overlook your impudence a second time. And I tell you now, sooner or later I will have my way.”