Heart's Ransom (Heart and Soul) (12 page)

“Mary have mercy,” Gwen cried, trying to stop his gradual fall.

“We rode without stopping a day and a half to reach the barn.  I knew I dared not sleep but he still managed to allude me.”

“Talon, do not tell me you refused sleep since you have been gone.”

His shoulders slumped, he stared at the ground.  “Very well, I won’t tell you.”

Marcus quickly stepped next to them and caught Talon’s arm.  His eyes were wide and fearful.  “What is wrong, lady?”

She continued to touch his face.  “He does not have a fever.  I think he merely exhausted himself.  Get him upstairs and in bed.  He needs to rest.”

“Nay,” Talon growled trying to stand.  “I cannot sleep.”  He stared at her, his dark eyes grief-stricken.

Gwen abruptly remembered his terrible nightmare.  Did he fear sleep?  Were his dreams the reason for his walking the ramparts at night?  “Don’t worry, Talon, I have something to help you.”

His eyes narrowed suspiciously but then his shoulders slumped and he rubbed his eyes.  “I am so weary, Gwen,” he whispered.  “I am weary of all of this.” 

“Alys, fetch my medicants,” she said, tugging on his arm.  “Worry not, Talon.  You took good care of me, now it’s my turn.”

Gwen knew his exhaustion was too great for him when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and allowed her to help him to the solar without argument.

She and Marcus cleaned Talon up and made him comfortable in his bed.

“Marcus, see to it he gets something to eat.  I imagine he didn’t do much of that either.”

Talon chuckled grimly as Marcus left.  “How well you know me.”

She glanced over her shoulder and winked at him.

“How are you feeling, Gwen?” he asked softly.  He turned on his side in bed and propped his head in his hand.  “Your voice sounds much better.” 

Gwen made the mistake of looking at him again.  Sweet Jesu, she should know better than that.  Resting as he was on the bed he appeared as some pagan god bent on seduction.  His tawny hair tumbled around his shoulders, his body even more defined in the soft light of the solar.  The blankets barely covered him to the waist and she briefly wondered if he had pushed them down on purpose.  She sucked in her breath and spun away.

“Gwen?” he asked in concern.

“I...I’m doing well, my lord, thank you.”

“Excellent, I had hoped you would recover your strength quickly.”

“I have been.”

Alys brought her medicant chest and Gwen carefully sorted through her supplies, grateful for the distraction.  She turned her attention to the matter at hand, getting him a decent night’s rest.  Perhaps a combination of Chamomile and Valerian, but he needed something to make him sleep deeply, without nightmares.

She lifted one vial.  Ah, Peony root was wonderful against insomnia and helped allay nightmares.  A balanced combination of the three herbals should do nicely.  “Alys, please bring me a cup of wine.”  She turned to the hearth and buried the poker deep in the flames.

Alys returned a moment later with the wine.  Gwen carefully measured and mixed the herbs then withdrew the hot poker.  Immersing it into the wine, it boiled for an instant and she withdrew it.

“Is there anything else, my lady?” Alys asked.

“Nay.  Thank you.”

She left, closing the door behind her.

Gwen handed Talon the cup and he looked at it archly.

“I don’t guarantee the taste, but it will work.”

He saluted her with the cup then downed the contents.  “It wasn’t bad,” he said giving it back to her.  “The wine masked most of the taste.”

“Good.”  She put the cup on the table and sat on the edge of the bed.

“But I fear your efforts have been for naught.  Many a time a sleeping draught has been tried on me and ne’er have they worked.”

“We shall see,” she said with a smile.  He lay back and she stroked the hair from his face.

“Will you stay with me, lady?” he asked softly.  “Even if the draught does not work, at least I shall enjoy your company.”

“Of course, Talon.  You stayed with me, the least I can do is return the favor.”

His lips lifted but there was little humor in his smile.  “I am sorry, Gwen.  It truly was my desire to capture the sod who hurt you.”

“It’s all right, Talon.  I am grateful that you at least attempted to do so.  My father would not--” abruptly she snapped her jaw shut, staring at the floor.  Her father was the one who wanted her dead.

“What is it, Gwen?” Talon asked gently.

“Nothing,” she said, dismissing the subject.  “It’s over and I’m sure that sod is long
gone.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Talon muttered darkly.

“What do you mean?”

“We cannot be certain he is gone.  And we know your father’s plot.  Please, I want you to be careful.”

“I will, Talon.”  Her fingers continued to travel over his face, gently soothing.

She noticed his eyes seemed to be growing heavier and he relaxed deeper into the bed.

“I still think this is all....”  He paused, yawning.  “For naught....”  His eyes closed and he struggled to open them.  “Sleeping draughts don’t....” his eyes closed again for a long moment then opened only slightly.  “Work....”  Another yawn.  “On....”  His voice faded as his eyes closed a third time and stayed closed, his breathing became deeper and more relaxed.

Gwen couldn’t help the smile that escaped her.  “What were you saying, my dear knight?”

His soft snore answered her and she bit back a laugh.  “Sleep well, Talon,” she whispered and kissed his cheek.  “May you find peace from your nightmares.”

****

Talon opened his eyes, startled to see the glow of the evening sun lighting his solar and Gwen sitting in a chair working on some embroidery.  He was even more surprised to discover that he had actually slept and it was not a nightmare that awakened him but hunger.  He pushed himself up and rubbed his eyes.

“Good morning,” Gwen said smiling.  “Actually, I should say good evening.”

Talon was surprised to note her voice sounded much better than before.  It barely had any hint of its graveled tone, instead it sounded more dulcet - and absolutely sexy.  “How long did I sleep?  A couple of hours?”

She laughed, her emerald eyes sparking mischievously.  “After I gave you the draught, you slept all that night, all the next day, and all night again.  It is now dinner time of the second day.”

His jaw went slack as he gazed at her.  “Surely you jest.”

“So much for draughts not working on you.”

Talon shook his head in disbelief.  “Good glory, I knew I was weary but never have I slept that much in my life.”  He gazed at her a long moment, a slight smile tugging at his lips. 

Gwen stood and moved to sit on the side of his bed; her finger reached out and smoothed the hair at his temples.  Talon closed his eyes, savoring the sensation.  Taking her free hand, he pulled it to his lips.

“And the nightmares?” she asked softly.

“None,” he said, then his eyes flew open and he scowled at her.  “Who told you I was having nightmares?”

Gwen stared at the floor, her cheeks staining red.  “I...uh...I knew you weren’t sleeping so I just...uh...assumed....”

His scowl deepened, she wasn’t being entirely honest, but no matter.  He felt too good to be angry with her.  “Thank you, Gwen,” he said softly.  “You truly are a fine healer.”

She flashed him a timid smile.  “Is that your measure, if someone can create a sleeping draught that actually works on you they are a good healer?”

He chuckled.  “’Tis the first time.  Even the king’s healers in London could not concoct one that worked on me.”

“London?”

He waved her off.  “As an earl, I’ve spent my share of time in the king’s court.  I hated every moment of it.”

“I don’t blame you.  I’ve never been to London, but visiting Llewellyn’s courts were bad enough.”

His stomach growled noisily.

“Let me get you some food, Talon.  I’m certain you are starving after sleeping so long.”

She started to rise but he pulled her into his arms, enjoying the feel of her hair streaming down his chest and across his arms.  He brushed his lips across her forehead.  “Thank you, lady.”

Talon rose the next day with more energy than he ever remembered having.  Even that night, after eating a hearty meal, he slept deeply and without nightmares.  He marveled at Gwen’s healing skills. 

Talon dressed and hurried below-stairs to break his fast.  Searching so much for Rose, he had ignored his men and training.  He had to correct that today.  Just because his life had turned inside out, did not mean he could allow it to destroy the normal routine of his earldom.  Men and horse grew lazy, losing their edge like a mistreated sword if ignored for too long.  And with the constant threat of Welsh raiders, Talon could not allow that to happen.

He summoned Marcus and Aaron into the great hall, and told them to gather the men for the lists.  They would train hard today.

****

Gwen, now fully recovered, couldn’t resist escaping her boredom in the keep to watch Talon in the lists.  The diversion was exactly what she needed.  Within the large bailey was an area near the barracks that had been set aside for training.  A large quadrangle roped off.  Some benches surrounded it, for the pages and squires, and battle equipment around it.  Weapons racks held an assortment of lethal and non-lethal items.  Training dummies made of barley sacks filled with sand hung from stanchions.  Next to the great wall of the bailey was a long run with a quintain for the horses.  Brightly colored banners and pennants snapped in the wind.

Gwen found a bench where she could watch unobtrusively.  Talon, wearing his chainmail hauberk, worked his men with sword and shield as a group.  Reviewing basic stances, simple attacks, blocks, and maintaining one’s balance.

The day gradually aged, and Gwen found herself entranced with Talon.  The man moved with a grace and beauty she had never seen.  Especially for such a giant, a person might expect him to be awkward or slow.  But not Talon.  He had lightning quick reflexes and a confidence born of experience.  His body moved fluidly, coiled power.  He was deadly serious about his training but that did not stop his wry wit and bright smile on occasion.

The day grew warmer and the men wearied rapidly in the armor under the hot sun.  Talon worked them as long as he dared, then cleared the list field.  He removed his coif and moved to a water bucket where he took a long drink from the ladle then splashed some on his head and face.

He shook his head, an action that reminded Gwen of a lion shaking its mane then looked up.  He had not noticed her before but suddenly his gaze locked on hers as if he had been aware of her the entire time.  His eyes glowed an amber color in the bright sunlight.  Gwen swallowed hard as he stared at her.  Why was it every time he looked at her like that the air seemed to vanish around her?  She feared he might send her away.  Sometimes men were particular about ladies watching their training.  But Talon raked his fingers through his damp hair, and then flashed his disarming grin.

He turned on his heel and re-donned his coif then pulled on his helm.  “Aaron,” he bellowed.  “’Tis time to test your blade against me.”  He hefted his sword and shield and stepped to the center of the field.

Gwen scowled.  Before Talon paired up with various men and worked with whalebone swords or blunted weapons.  But now he stood with his regular sword.

Aaron also pulled on his helm and grabbed his weapons, deadly sharp.  He entered the list field and bowed to Talon.  “My lord,” he said then took his fighting stance.

Talon matched the movement and Gwen’s heart suddenly battered her ribs.  What were they doing working with real weapons?

As if someone had shouted, both men launched at each other at the same time.  The sound of clashing swords resounded through the bailey.  She heard sharp cracks as steel slammed into the wood of the shields.  Talon grunted as his sword launched outward and Aaron caught it on his shield and countered.  Talon seemed to dodge and advance at the same time.  In one instant he was in Aaron’s face, launching a blow, the next Aaron’s sword was whistling harmlessly past his head.

Gwen stood frozen, her hand over her mouth.  Both men moved at full speed, neither pulling their blows.  One mistake, one missed block, and someone would die.

The two engaged again, the sounds of armor colliding resounding through the bailey.  Talon subtly stepped to his right then lunged, his sword flashing in an overhand stroke.  Aaron barely shifted in time to keep the weapon from cleaving his skull open.  But he was off balance.  Talon shoved forward with all of his strength, shield bashing him, and Aaron slammed into the ground on his back.

“Yield!” Aaron cried.

Talon barely slid to a stop in time, his sword narrowly missing the man’s chest.  He
straightened, his chest heaving as he panted for air.  Aaron lay back on the ground, his eyes closed as he also tried to suck air in his lungs.

“Well met, Aaron,” Talon said and sheathed his sword.  He offered his hand then hauled Aaron to his feet.  “But you are still vulnerable to that inside attack.  Keep practicing the defense, my friend.”

“Aye,” Aaron said, bending at the waist with his hands on his knees.  “I practice but you are the only one who can best me with that move.  The other men cannot.”

Gwen pounding heart finally slowed.  Good glory, the two could have killed each other and now they acted like nothing had happened.

Talon removed his helm, walking away from her, but then shot a glance at her over his shoulder and winked.

She gaped at him.  What had this been about?  Suddenly she had the feeling he had simply been showing off for her.  The daft fool!  Why would anyone do something so brainless?

Yet Talon laughed and jested with his men as if he had no idea how terribly he had frightened her.

“Marcus,” he called, taking another drink of water.  “Have the groom saddle the bay.  I need to work with him on the quintain.”

“At once, my lord.”

Talon with his squire’s assistance removed his armor, standing in a sweaty black tunic and heavy hosen.  He then donned a sable surcoat split down the center for riding and wrapped a wide belt around his waist.  He wore a combination of leather and steel gauntlets on his hands but otherwise no armor.  Gwen watched him curiously as he strode for the area near the quintain.

Two grooms led a giant bay stallion from the barn.  He was saddled but the horse reared and lunged, fighting the men leading him.  He snorted, pawing the air, trying to kick and bite.  Gwen knew instantly the animal was very young and barely broke to ride.  It was nearly as large as Ebon but far more unruly.  Talon slowly approached the horse, speaking softly.  The horse flattened his ears and snapped at him, but Talon laughed, still moving slowly and uttering soothing words.

The vicious animal gradually calmed and Talon placed a gentle hand on his neck, stroking the gleaming coat.  The stallion tossed his head and pawed at the ground.

Gwen watched, holding her breath, as Talon moved around the horse, always speaking softly.  He checked the saddle and equipment.  The horse occasionally pranced in place, but didn’t try to attack him.  She marveled at Talon.  Obviously, he was training the animal to be a war horse like Ebon someday, but usually duties like that were left to the Marechal - the master of horses.  As an Earl of Montgomery, no doubt Talon had employed some of the best trainers in England but here he was doing it himself.

And risking his neck in the process.

She sighed in exasperation but otherwise did not move, her attention riveted on Talon as he mounted the giant stallion.

The moment he settled in the saddle, the animal lunged, squealing and snorting.  He threw his head down, his back arched like a cat, and jumped straight into the air.

The grooms hauled on the lead ropes, while Talon jerked on the right rein, twisting the horse’s head around to his knee and at the same time pulling it up.

The animal staggered, nearly losing its balance, which forced it to stop cavorting or risk a fall.  It spun its hindquarters around, a groom easily dodging, moving to stay near its head and away from the powerful hooves.  Obviously, the creature had tried this trick many times.

The horse stood stock still and Talon petted its neck, again speaking in soft soothing tones.  He gave a curt nod and the grooms released the lead ropes from the bit, moving slowly away.

The horse shook his head and snorted loudly.

With gentle pressure of leg and rein, Talon turned the animal and moved away at a brisk walk around the perimeter of the field.  The horse seemed to settle a bit with the activity.  Talon rode easily but Gwen saw that he did not relax completely, ready for anything the stallion might try.  They walked, and then trotted, then Talon nudged him into a canter.  The animal promptly tried to lower his head and start bucking, but again Talon hauled on the rein and threw off his balance.

A second time they tried the canter, and the horse obeyed without throwing a fit.  They made several circuits then Talon pulled him to a stop, turning him to do the same thing the other direction.  The longer he worked, the calmer the horse became, a light sheen of sweat forming on his coat.

Finally Talon pulled to a stop, patting and praising the animal.  A page grabbed a lance and slowly approached.  The second page moved to the quintain, holding the sandbag that weighted the end of the bar opposite of the shield.

The horse shied as the page approached with the lance, but again Talon steadied him, finally able to grab the lance.  The horse jigged in place, lifting its fore-hooves in exaggeration.

Talon looked to the quintain, his expression one of intense concentration.  He subtly turned the horse with his legs then relaxed his hold on the reins.  The animal squealed and lunged, charging forward with such power Gwen marveled at Talon wasn’t unseated.  But he smoothly kept the horse on a straight line, the lance dipping as it approached the target.  The moment the tip of the lance touched the shield, the page released the sandbag and ducked.

A resounding crack echoed through the bailey.  Gwen jumped, events happened so fast she could barely acknowledge them.  Instead of spinning away from Talon, the quintain’s
crossbar disintegrated.  The shield flew forward and the sandbag snapped around, towards the horse as the crosspiece folded in half.  The shield struck the horse’s shoulder and neck while the sandbag slammed into its flank.  The animal squealed in fear and went down.

Talon tried to rid himself of his lance, tossing it away, but it didn’t fly very far before striking the ground.  The horse collapsed and Talon’s shoulder slammed into the lance.  The horse squealed and kicked then abruptly lunged to his feet.  Talon barely managed to free his feet from the stirrups otherwise he would have been dragged.  The horse staggered trying to bolt but it limped terribly, unable to put weight on its left hind leg.  It stopped a few paces away.

Men ran to Talon still on the ground and Gwen found herself charging after them.

“Damnation!” Talon roared as he sat up, cradling his right shoulder.

Marcus and Aaron knelt next to him while the other knights crowded in a circle.

“Let me pass,” Gwen snarled, as she shoved ineffectually at an exceptionally large brute in her way.

The knight glanced down at her startled but stepped back.  Gwen managed to reach Talon’s side and dropped to her knees.

“Where does it hurt?” she asked.

Talon, grim faced and tight lipped tried to move his arm and snarled a curse.  “My arm.”

“Tunic,” she said through her teeth.  “Off.  Now.”

Marcus instantly had his dagger out and sliced the tunic open at the seams, ripping it away.

Within an instant, Gwen spotted the awkward shape of his shoulder and how Talon cradled his arm against his belly.  She gently probed it then moved down his arm to his hand.  “Wiggle your fingers.”

He did so.

She breathed a sigh of relief.  “Nothing broken but you dislocated your shoulder.” 

“Sweet Jesu, it hurts like the devil.”

“Aye.  We need to put it back in place.  Marcus, wine and plenty of it.”

“Lady?” Talon asked in surprise.

“The more relaxed you are the easier it will be. Can you stand?”

“Aye.” 

Marcus and Aaron, using his good arm, hauled him up.  Gwen, using strips of Talon’s
already destroyed tunic and surcoat bound his arm to his belly.

“What in blazes happened?” he growled.

“That can wait.”

“Nay.”  he moved forward as a page returned from the keep carrying a large cup of wine and a wine skin.  Talon downed the cup and the page refilled it.

“Drink as much as you can as quickly as you can.”

“And it will go straight to my head lady.”

“That’s the point, my lord.”

His lips tugged upward slightly and he did as she asked but continued to move toward the horse, speaking softly.

All fight seemed to vanish from the beast.  He limped forward, nickering softly, and then nuzzled Talon’s hand as if to apologize for everything.

“’Tis all right, my friend,” Talon said, stroking the animal’s neck then moving to look at his injury.  With gentle surety, his good hand slid over the horse’s hip and down his leg.  The horse kicked slightly when he hit the injury.