Strangclyf Secret (16 page)

A gouging spear had left a
gaping tubular wound through the outside aspect of Jerold’s thigh.
He had passed out within minutes after Barwolf started her work.
Hugo stood on the opposite side of the bed, watching her as if he
expected her to unman his friend.

Bernon stood guard over
Barwolf for two hours as she removed splinters and cleaned the
horrific injury. She appeared diligent, thorough, and possessed a
gentle touch, but God help her, she had tender feelings. She winced
and whimpered just so Jerold wouldn’t have to.

As Barwolf worked, she
issued quiet requests that sent the Saxons scurrying to do her
bidding. Ardith left to escort William and Matilda to the king’s
tower. Padarn fetched Mae, the head cook. Barwolf instructed the
woman to prepare a simple fare for the evening meal and to meet
with her later, so they could plan a celebration feast for the next
day. Betia, who on closer inspection appeared about thirteen,
remained in the sick room, assisting Barwolf whenever asked and
wiping Jerold’s brow with a cool damp cloth.

Padarn returned and
informed Barwolf that he had set some boys to cleaning out the
rushes and scrubbing the tables in the hall. His wife, Lori, and
some of the other women would bring fresh rushes later in the
afternoon.

After Barwolf cleaned the
wound to her satisfaction, she applied a poultice to both the
entrance and exit wounds. Then she bid Hugo to hold Jerold’s leg
up, so she could wrap a bandage to hold the dressing in place. She
applied the rolled linen with meticulous exactness, carefully
smoothing away every wrinkle. She glanced up at Padarn then
returned her eyes to her task. “We are almost finished here,
Padarn. Can you give me a hand in the dungeon in a few minutes? We
have a couple of dead rats that need to be removed before they
stink up the place.”

Bernon frowned. “Hugo, you
will go help Padarn remove the rats.”

A disgruntled look passed
over Hugo’s face, though he nodded.

“’
Tis no need to bother
Hugo with such a task, Bernon,” Barwolf said. “He is a warrior,
after all. Padarn and I can handle it.”

“
My wife does not remove
dead rats or clean dungeons.” He would instruct her later not to
countermand his orders.

Barwolf tied the knot,
anchoring the bandage, then turned to face him. “But I clean the
dungeon every other Monday. ‘Tis one of my duties, and today is
Monday.”

Hugo and the other
warriors looked at her as if she was daft.

The muscles in Bernon’s
neck corded. “Not. Any. More.”

“
Come on with me, Hugo, and
bring your friends,” Padarn said. “I’ll show you around the
place.”

As the warriors left,
Ardith returned and went to her mistress, who was measuring out
powder into a cup. Bernon noticed Ardith stood only an inch taller
than his wife, had a slight crook in her left forearm from an old
break, and a slight lump in the bridge of her nose. Even with those
imperfections, Ardith would be a lovely woman without the splotches
marring her complexion. He had never seen a skin problem quite like
hers.

“
The king and queen are
settled in the king’s tower,” Ardith said, a slight burr lilting
her voice. “Willa will be acting as the queen’s maid while she is
here and Manuel will be acting as their page.”

Barwolf gaped at Ardith.
“But Manuel is only six summers, and he is not trained.”

“
King William took a liking
to the boy for some reason.” Ardith shrugged and held her palms
upward in a confounded manner. “After Manuel’s outrageous remarks,
I’m surprised the king didn’t kill him—or tan his hide at the very
least.”

“
What did the boy say?”
Bernon asked then looked into a pair of flawless violet eyes
sparkling with amusement as Ardith turned her gaze on
him.

“
Well, Manuel bowed all
right and proper, looked up at King William, and said he never
thought the day would come when a bastard king would come to
Strangclyf.” Ardith’s lips quivered with suppressed mirth. “Then he
told the king that he was a damn bastard too, so maybe they should
be sticking together.”

Barwolf tried
unsuccessfully to suppress a chuckle and snorted. “I had better
talk to him. Manuel has the attention span of a young puppy. He
will be off playing somewhere should the king have a message or
need anything.”

“
Willa is watching out for
him. I doubt either of them will be having much to do afore the
morrow.” Ardith gave Barwolf a knowing look. “The king and queen
are in the bath.”

“
Why would the bath occupy
them so long?” Barwolf asked.

Ardith turned a
reproachful gaze on Bernon. “I cannot say, but mayhap you’ll be
understanding
soon
.”

Barwolf shrugged. “Well, I
thank you for your help, Ardith. Do you mind trading the rest of
today and tomorrow? I have much to catch up on, and I would like to
check on my special project this afternoon.”

“
Trading days for what?”
Bernon asked.

“
Housekeeper,” Barwolf
answered, not looking up from her task. “I usually do Monday,
Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, and Ardith does Sunday, Wednesday,
and Friday.”

“
Ardith, you will be the
housekeeper every day,” Bernon ordered, clasping his hands behind
his back and bracing his stance.

“
Aye, milord,” Ardith said
with a nod and a smile. “’Tis about time our young lady had a few
less duties.”

Barwolf turned incredulous
eyes on him. “But Bernon, ‘tis too much work for her.”

“’
Tis not open for
discussion. Are you finished with Jerold?”

Barwolf raked her fingers
through her hair, bowing her head. “I have a potion for him to
drink. Then I need to stay with him and make sure he drinks plenty
of liquids.”

God’s bones, did she look
for work? “Betia can stay with him.”

Barwolf raised wide eyes
to his and complained, “But Betia is too young and what if
something happens that—”

“
Betia, does your voice
work?” Bernon asked, casting his fierce gaze on the young
girl.

Betia paused, holding a
refreshed cloth over the basin. “Aye, Lord Strangclyf.”

“
There,
you see,
ma petite.
Betia can call out if she needs help. Ardith can probably
even find someone to relieve her later, can you not, Ardith?” he
asked in a commanding tone.

“’
Twill be no problem,”
Ardith declared and smiled triumphantly at Barwolf.

“
But what
about—”

“
You are going to rest,” he
ordered, scowling at her. “Honest to God, you look tired enough to
drop.”

“’
Tis still afternoon. I am
not a weakling and there is much to be done.”

“
Anything you have to do
will either be done by someone else today or wait for the morrow.”
She was exasperating, and why did she look at him as if he had just
struck her?

“
As you wish, milord.”
Barwolf bowed her head and finished mixing the potion for Jerold.
“Betia, here is the potion. Coax the whole cup down his throat.
Then every four hours put a pinch of this powder into a cup of
water and make him drink it. He is not to have any wine or ale, and
get him to drink a glass of water every hour. Call Ardith if he
becomes fevered or delirious.”

“
Aye, milady,” Betia
replied, accepting the cup and setting about her task.

Barwolf turned to Bernon
and raked her fingers through her hair. “Bernon, may I please take
a short walk outside before I rest? After being underground and
inside most of the day, fresh air will make me feel
better.”

Why did her request make
him feel like an ogre? “You may as long as you do not take too long
or wear yourself out.”

Bernon escorted Barwolf
down to the hall and watched her exit the front of the keep. She
was mumbling her valuable, rare, and precious litany again. Why did
she appear so dejected after he had lightened her duties? She had
been treated more like a serf than a daughter her whole life and
seemed to equate her value with the work she performed. He wouldn’t
put it past the little minx to search out some task and completely
exhaust herself.

“
God’s bones,” he muttered.
He glanced across the hall and saw Medwyn enter the rear portal.
“Medwyn, Lady Strangclyf just left by the front door. Follow her
and make sure she only walks. She is not to do any
work.”

“
Aye, milord. I will see to
it,” Medwyn replied and exited the hall in Barwolf’s
wake.

Bernon looked about the
hall and marveled at the size. He hadn’t known anything like this
existed on the island. Centered between four towers, the room could
easily hold three hundred people. Two lower hearths flanked the
front doors where he stood.

Ardith entered the hall,
coming from Jerold’s chamber, and he called out to her. “Ardith,
come and tell me where things are.”

She hastened to his side
and provided a quick overview of the keep’s layout. To his left
rose the common tower, which housed the castle servants. Bernon
scowled at the insult Barwolf’s father had dealt by placing her
there. Next an arched corridor, opulently decorated with ice-blue
and white drapes, led to the lord’s great chamber where business
was conducted and the coffers were secured. The lord’s tower,
providing living accommodations to The Strangclyf and his family,
stood in the far-left corner. A massive hearth dominated the wall
in front of him with rear double doors on the right exiting
seaside. The centurion’s tower arose to the far right beside the
ale room screen. The common corridor, less conspicuous than the one
leading to the great chamber, gave entry to the ale room, buttery,
and pantry. The tower dubbed the king’s tower, to his immediate
right, provided residence to important guests. Galleries overlooked
the hall on his left and right, and the walls rose four stories
providing barrack quarters to one century. Another sprawling
three-story structure, attached through the common corridor, housed
the rest of the legion.

Ardith finished her
explanation and grinned up at her new lord. “Would you be wanting a
tour?”

Bernon grit his teeth to
keep his mouth from hanging open and shook his head.

“
It is a wee bit
overwhelming at first glance.” Ardith’s violet eyes sparkled and
she lowered her lilting voice as if relating a great secret. “Faith
and the truth, it never gets any better.”

He finally looked at her
and saw the kindly amusement in her eyes. Something about her
seemed familiar and drew him, though he couldn’t understand why.
“You don’t speak like the other Saxons?”

“
Aye, and my old laird
would tan my hide proper if I did,” she replied.

Bernon raised a brow at
that news. He never would have expected that answer, considering
her olive complexion. “You are a Scot?”

Ardith released a heady
laugh. “Now ‘twould surely be courting death if I admitted to being
anything other than a Highlander and a MacInnes at that. ‘Tis a
pedigree issue, you know.”

Bernon found himself
smiling at the woman. “Tell me, Ardith, how did a Highlander and a
MacInnes, at that, end up at Strangclyf?”

Her eyes clouded and she
gazed out at the hall as if she was looking at her past. “I fell in
love with a Saxon. I got stolen on my way down then was forced to
marry a brute. He is dead now, may he burn in hell.” She seemed to
recollect herself and raised unrepentant eyes to her lord. “I will
be apologizing for letting you hear such an awful thing from my
mouth, but I’ll not be taking it back. Aurick brought me to
Strangclyf to be your lady’s nurse about three months after she
lost her mother. My own Betia was but an infant at the
time.”

“
Did you—” Bernon broke
off, seeing Hugo, Padarn, and Geno escort an unkempt Saxon warrior
into the hall from the common corridor. The man had beady eyes,
shaggy dark hair, and a frizzy matted beard. His wrists were bound,
and he walked with a marked limp. Bruises covered his face and
Bernon would have sworn contempt flashed across the man’s face for
the briefest instant as he spied the Normans in the hall, then the
expression fled in favor of a blank mask.

Ardith muttered an
expletive under her breath and turned away. “Excuse me, milord. I
had best be about my duties.”

She took a wide path
around the men, fleeing into the common corridor, and Bernon
frowned. Ardith obviously had little use for the Saxon, and he
trusted her judgment for some reason he couldn’t fathom.

The men stopped in front
of Bernon. The Saxon dropped to one knee, placed his bound fists
over his chest, and wavered slightly. “Welcome, Lord Strangclyf. I
pledge you my loyalty and my life.”

Bernon raised an inquiring
brow at Geno.

“
His name is Gremian. We
found him in one of the cells.” Geno looked at the Saxon, curled
his lip, and snorted.

“
One must wonder why he was
spared the slaughter,” Bernon mused aloud, turning hard eyes on the
man. “Tell me why I should accept your pledge, Gremian?”