Rhuddlan (33 page)

He felt a pressing urge to relieve himself.
There should have been a pot around somewhere, or maybe he’d just
go to the garderobe at the end of the passageway…

But at his first movement came shooting pains
which reverberated from his neck down into his shoulder and back
again. For a split-second he was surprised; then he remembered the
wound. He cursed out loud. How was he going to do such a simple
thing as empty his bladder if he couldn’t move? With his right hand
he pushed away the bedclothes, finishing the job with his legs. He
took a deep breath, gritted his teeth and very slowly and painfully
lifted his head and shoulders from the pillow. His stomach strained
from the effort; absently, he wondered how long he’d lain prone to
have had such a deleterious effect on his stomach muscles. Finally
he was sitting upright. His neck throbbed and he couldn’t have
moved his left arm if his life depended on it, but he felt grimly
proud of himself. As soon as he was able to mount his horse, he was
going to hunt down Rhirid ap Maelgwn and kill him.

A ragged hem and two ill-shod feet appeared
in his field of vision. With a second painful effort, he raised his
head and saw a woman standing before him. He recognized her; she
was the same one who had fed him the broth and wine. He opened his
mouth to speak but she was quicker.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she
demanded. Almost as an afterthought she added, “My lord.”

He scowled at her. Every muscle in his body
ached and his neck was screaming murder and she had the nerve to
stand there with her hands on her hips and a crease in her forehead
and berate him? It was intolerable. “Give me a hand,” he ordered,
his voice hoarse. “I want to—Christ!” He had just realized he was
naked. He grabbed his pillow with his right hand and plopped it in
his lap.

She burst out laughing.

“What the hell is so funny?” he said
angrily.

“My lord, who do you think’s
been looking after you these last few days?
All
of you?”

He stared at her. This was how she’d looked
the day before; her eyes smiling and her face relaxed. In a calmer
voice and with as much dignity as he could muster, he said, “I need
to relieve myself.”

Without another word, she went around to the
opposite side of the bed, picked the pot up from the floor and
brought it back to him. She retreated to the unshuttered
window.

“Where’s Richard?” he asked.

“I’m sure he’ll be in right after Mass,” she
answered. “Last night was the first he didn’t sleep on the stool by
your bed.”

“He was staying here?” Longsword felt
foolishly touched.

“He refused to leave. I think he thought the
sheer force of his will was sufficient to make you recover. Are you
through?”

“Yes.”

She came around to take the pot, which she
put outside the chamber door. “Let me help you lie down again.”

“No, I want to stand up. I might as well try
it while I’m already halfway there.” He tentatively flexed his leg
muscles. “I’ve been in this damned bed too long as it is.”

She planted herself so close in front of him
that he couldn’t have stood up without falling backwards, or
knocking her down, even if his legs had felt capable of supporting
him. “No,” she said.

He frowned. “What do you mean, no?”

“You’ve only just got over a fever, my lord.
Your body is too weak.”

“Well, this is the way to begin strengthening
it again—”

“No, this is the way to fall flat on your
face and burst open the wound again, my lord,” she cut in
furiously. “I won’t have it!”

He blinked at her suddenly sharp tone. She
was glaring, her hands clenched. If he hadn’t been so annoyed, he
would have laughed at her display of anger. What was she planning
to do? Assault him with her fists?

“Better do as she says, Will.”

Longsword looked past the girl, his annoyance
evaporating instantly. “Richard! I’m glad to see you! I’m much
better. If I could just stand up, I’d be perfect.”

Delamere came into the room. His glance fell
on the healer’s stony face. “If Gwalaes thinks you ought to stay
put, you ought to stay put.”

“Richard—”

“For God’s sake, Will, you nearly died!”
Delamere exploded. “She’s the only one who knew what to do and you
must follow her instructions completely!”

Longsword was taken aback by the vehemence in
his friend’s voice. His eyes swiveled from one to the other. The
girl, the one who saved his life, stared at the floor, her lips
pressed into a straight, bloodless line. Delamere’s face bore an
uncharacteristic glare.

“Fine,” he said grumpily. “If that’s what you
want…”

Delamere helped him ease back onto his
pillow. His face finally relaxed and he sat down on the stool by
the bed. “I swear to God, Will; I never thought I’d speak to you
again. The fever…”

“I can’t remember anything after Llanlleyn,”
Longsword admitted. “But I feel fine! Richard, how much longer must
I remain in bed? I want to see my men. And we’ve got work to do.
Rhirid—”

“Rhirid can wait. Don’t worry; you’ll get
your revenge. He isn’t going anywhere.” He grinned at his friend’s
expression of frustrated ambition. The healer would have her hands
full now, he thought. Longsword unconscious and thrashing about was
light work compared to Longsword fully sensible and unable to do
what he wanted to do. “I have an idea. We’ll have a feast tonight
to celebrate your return to us. I know the men want to see you;
everyone’s been asking after you. We’ll rig a chair or something
and carry you down to the hall. How does that sound?”

“Great,” Longsword answered fervently.

Delamere turned to Gwalaes. “Is that all
right with you?” he asked her in Welsh. “I think his recovery will
be swifter if he can be with his men.”

She shrugged. “I can bind him up tightly so
that he can’t move his head too much.”

There was a little silence and she glanced at
him. He was staring intently at her and then suddenly he stood up.
“Come out for a moment; I want a word with you.” He went to the
doorway and waited for her to join him. She noticed he was frowning
again. “What’s going on?” he demanded.

She was confused. “What do you mean? He
wanted to get up. I said no; it’s too early yet. Sir Richard—”

“No!” he interrupted. “How did you come by
your Norman French?”

She caught her breath. Why hadn’t she kept to
Welsh? She stammered, “I—I don’t understand; the nuns—”

“You didn’t learn it at the abbey. I was
there. I never heard the sisters speak anything but Welsh to their
servants. Even among themselves it was mostly Welsh.” He watched
her face. “Several days ago you addressed me in French and you just
now spoke to Lord William in French. And you spoke it
perfectly.”

She didn’t look at him. “I learned it at the
abbey,” she said in a stubborn voice.

For a moment he didn’t respond. She could
feel his eyes trying to burn right through her skull, to see what
was in her head. “Very well,” he said finally. He brushed past
her.

“Sir Richard, my daughter—” she said
urgently.

He turned around. “What about her?”

“I would like to go back. We’ve never been
separated and I’ve been away too long.”

“If you remember, I wanted to bring her
here.”

“Yes, but—”

“As you said, Lord William isn’t yet fully
recovered.”

“But Gladys—”

“I told you before, I don’t want her anywhere
near him!”

Gladys hesitated in the stairwell. What if
that hadn’t been him? What if he were still inside? She turned to
leave and then stopped, scolding herself for cowardice. Of course
that had been him! He’d been bareheaded; there couldn’t be two
Normans so handsome. She had watched from her window as he’d called
for his horse and a dozen men to accompany him. They had ridden
through the gate and disappeared from her view. Of course he was
gone.

And, anyway, she had the
right to see Lord William, hadn’t she? She carried his child. And
he would want to see
her
, to know that everything was all right with her. Yes, now
that Lord William was conscious, she had nothing more to fear from
Richard Delamere.

Before she could think any further, she
climbed the remaining steps and nodded nervously to the guard at
Longsword’s door. Act as if what you’re doing is normal, she told
herself. Not for the first time did she feel the frustration of not
being able to speak French. She would have liked to have commanded
the guard to push open the door for her. But this turned out to be
unnecessary because he pushed it in without being told. She was
thrilled. Obviously Lord William had been asking for her.

Gwalaes was sitting up on a pallet to one
side of the burning brazier, rolling strips of linen into tight
wads.

“I’ve come to see Lord William,” Gladys told
her in a defiant voice from the threshold.

Gwalaes looked amused. “Then come in. He’s
still here.”

She knew! The slut knew why she had dared
this visit. Gladys flushed. “You don’t have to look so smug!” she
said angrily. “He can’t keep me out.”

“Who?”

“Sir Richard!”

Gladys glared at her. Gwalaes had done it on
purpose—tricking her into admitting Sir Richard’s absence was the
only reason she had dared to come to Lord William’s chamber.

“He might trust you, but I don’t!” she added.
She went to Longsword’s bed. “Why should you care if Lord William
lives or dies?”

Gwalaes put the bandages down and stood up.
She studied Longsword over Gladys’ shoulder. “He fell asleep right
after he had his breakfast,” she said. “Sir Richard is making a
feast for him tonight and I told him he couldn’t go unless he slept
all day. His mind is at full strength but his body is still very
weak.”

“I suppose Sir Richard fell all over himself
to thank you. He had no kind words for me when I cured Lord William
after he was brought back from the abbey. But when Lord William
broke open his wound at Llanlleyn and caught the fever, it was all
my fault. He told me he would kill me.” She looked down at
Longsword and smoothed a corner of his blanket. “He’s jealous of
me.”

“Jealous?”

“Yes.” She turned to Gwalaes with a haughty
expression. “I’ve done the one thing he can’t—I’ve got Lord
William’s child inside me.”

“Oh…I see.”

“That’s the real reason he
didn’t want me around Lord William, you know. He didn’t want Lord
William to wake up cured and be forever in my debt. He can just
send
you
back to
the abbey but I’m staying here and he doesn’t want to compete with
me for Lord William’s favor.” She sat comfortably on the edge of
the bed and looked up at Gwalaes. “Why don’t you let me care for
him until Sir Richard returns? If he’s only going to
sleep…”

The chit didn’t answer right away and Gladys
frowned. She shouldn’t have asked; she should have insisted. She
had a position to uphold now but everyone would continue to treat
her as usual if she didn’t assert herself.

She spoke again. “Yes, I think that’s a good
idea, Gwalaes. You just show me what to do and then go out. He’ll
be pleased when he awakens to my face.”

“Very well,” the other woman said
reluctantly. She went to a side table, the surface of which was
covered with bandages, bottles and jars and several shallow bowls.
“If you come here, I’ll show you—”

“No. Bring it to me,” Gladys commanded
imperiously. To her delight, it worked. After a slight hesitation,
Gwalaes complied. Another thought struck Gladys. “Where did you
learn to speak the Norman tongue?”

Gwalaes, as she was crossing the floor to the
bed, stopped abruptly. “How do you know…”

“I heard you. The first night you were here.
You turned on Sir Richard and said something to him in Norman and
he said something back to you.”

“Oh…yes.” She was flustered. “I learned it
from the nuns at the abbey, of course. They’re all Normans.”

“Did it take you long to learn?”

“I’ve been there almost all my life. I just
picked it up, I suppose.”

“What I’m trying to say is, how long do you
think it would take me to learn it?” Gladys asked impatiently. “I
know a few words, a few phrases already.”

“I really couldn’t tell you. I suppose you
have to keep listening and practicing.” She held out a jar. “Should
I tell you what to do with this?”

“No.” Gladys glanced at it without interest.
“Put it back. I don’t want you to go after all. I want you to teach
me whatever Norman you can before Sir Richard sends you back to the
abbey.”

While Delamere and the other Normans at
Rhuddlan had prayed fervently for Longsword’s recovery, Teleri had
waited just as anxiously for word of his death. His refusal to
accede to her demand that Gladys be dismissed had turned an
indifferent distaste for all Normans into an intense personal
hatred of him and she had convinced herself that when he died she
would be blessedly free. She would return to her uncle and he,
being unable to argue with the fact that she had diligently done
her duty, would grant her freedom to choose her next husband.
Longsword had spoiled her dream with his initial convalescence but
then fate had kindly granted her a second chance. It had been
rumored that his condition was much graver this time.

But just when the situation
couldn’t have looked any better for her, she learned that Delamere
had brought in a woman claimed to be a miracle-worker. This woman
had already cured Longsword once and the Normans had no doubt that
she would do it again. The talk had made Teleri uneasy. Longsword
just
had
to die!
She thought she’d end up mad if she were forced to spend the rest
of her life with a husband she detested, his servant mistress and
their illegitimate children. For the first time, she cursed the
vagary of fate which had made her female, and wished she was a man
so she could simply jump on a horse and ride far away.