The Conqueror (Hot Knights) (15 page)

“Damned fool!” Fornay swore as they rounded the corner to enter the bedchamber.

“You know what a stubborn wretch he is. We could not gainsay him.”

The three men carried their burden the last few feet and maneuvered him onto the bed. They stood there panting. Edeva pushed past them to examine Brevrienne.

The sight of his pale face was like an icy blade cutting through her. His long, powerful body sprawled limply. Edeva swallowed a sob and reached to feel his forehead. “He’s fevered.”

“’Tis common after being wounded. That worries me much less than the loss of blood,” Rob said.

“Where was he struck?”

Rob stepped forward and pulled back the cloak that had been wrapped around the wounded man. A large crimson stain spread over the upper portion of Brevrienne’s tunic. Rob started to pull up the garment, and then grimaced when he saw it was stuck to the wound. “You do it,” he told Edeva. “You’ve a gentler touch than me.”

Glancing at Brevrienne’s waxen visage, Edeva wondered he would feel anything anyway. “Get me water,” she said.

Rob brought over the ewer. Edeva dribbled water on the caked blood, loosening it, then eased the tunic up. She carefully lifted the blood-soaked bandage to reveal the wound beneath.

She could see the clean, but surprisingly large, incision the surgeon had made to excise the arrow. He had sewn up the opening afterward, but the stitches had broken open.

’Twas not a terrible sight; she’d seen much worse, as when Eadrer had cut off his foot with an axe. But the fact that it was Brevrienne who was injured made her feel sick. Once so vigorous and alive, he now lay before her as pale and still as a stone effigy.

“The healer,” she said, “we must fetch the healer.”

“What? Speak properly, woman!”

Fornay’s sharp words broke her out of a stunned trance. She’d unconsciously spoken in Saxon.

“I said, ‘We must get the healer’.”

“You told me she could not walk this far,” Fornay accused.

“Then fetch her on a cart or a mule!”

Fornay turned to Rob. “There’s an old witchwoman in the village. I know not if she has any skill.”

“She does!” Edeva clenched her fists in aggravation. “Can you deny that Wulfget is better now?”

“That could be mere chance and sound reasoning. Anyone could see that Wulfget needed to eat properly or she would not heal.”

She wanted to strike him, but remembering what she learned of the man, she made her voice meek. “I’ve never treated such a serious wound. I need the advice of someone more experienced if I am to aid him.”

The men looked at each other. “’Twas an old witch-woman who birthed me,” Hamo said. “Else I would not have lived. I was too big and placed wrong in my mother’s womb. The witch-woman turned me so I would come free. My mother even survived the birthing. That one, anyway. She perished with the next.”

Rob shot Edeva a quick glance, and then lowered his voice. “We have to trust her, Alan. I think it’s what Jobert would want us to do. He sets great store by Lady Edeva’s opinion.”

Fornay made a sour face, then said, “Fetch the healer. She lives on the far east edge of the village in a pigsty of a dwelling. Take a cart and another man. She’s no dainty thing if you have to lift her. I vow she weighs near as much as Brevrienne.”

The two hurried off, obviously relieved to be doing something.

Edeva went to get a clean cloth. She dipped it in the ewer and began to bathe Brevrienne’s face. Fornay stood where he was, watching her.

“Is there any wine?” she asked him.

“Yea. Jobert apparently bought several casks in Gloucester, and the men brought them back.”

“You might fetch a skin of it. ’Tis useful for cleaning wounds and also as a way to give medicine.”

Fornay didn’t move.

Edeva straightened. “You’ll have to trust me with him sometime!”

Fornay folded his arms over his chest and glared at her.

“Why is this different than before? I have been alone with him many times. I’ve slept beside him! If I wanted to murder him, why did I not do it then?”

“He was not wounded and helpless.”

“You think I have no honor at all? ’Twould be the healthy man I would attack, not the injured one!”

“You’re a Saxon.” He gestured to the bed. “He lies there now because of an ambush by your people. They did not meet William’s army like men, but cowardly attacked from the cover of the forest. Just as you and your kin tried when we first came to Oxbury.”

“My people are desperate! They will use any method they can to win! Would you not do the same if you stood to lose everything?”

“I might. Which is why I do not leave you alone with him.”

Edeva expelled a moan of exasperated fury. “I am not one of the rebels. I have resigned myself to Norman rule, at least to this man’s.” She nodded toward the bed. “1 believe it is the right thing to do for my people, the best way to protect them. And I have willingly bedded Brevrienne. I’m not such a Jezebel that I would now try to murder him!”

“Father Reibald says that women have no souls. In that matter, I believe we agree.”

Edeva shook her head, anger fading to resignation. There was no point in arguing with this bull-headed fool. He would condemn her with his dying breath.

She drew up a stool beside the bed and reached to take Brevrienne’s big hand in her own. His skin was warm; his fingers felt callused and strong. If she did not look at him, she could almost imagine he was not badly wounded.

She closed her eyes, fighting tears. God help her, but Fornay was a lackwit to think she would harm Brevrienne.

A short while later there was a clatter at the stairs. Fornay left his post and went to open the door.

Rob and Hamo rushed in. “She wouldn’t come! We tried everything, even jabbing a sword in her belly. She merely laughed at us.”

“Torture,” Fornay hissed. “That’s what Jobert would do.”

“Nay!” Edeva jumped up. “She’s old and helpless, for all her bulk. And if you kill, her, we’ll lose her knowledge forever. I’ll go. I’ll convince her. She probably didn’t understand what you wanted.”

Edeva hurried out the door and down the stairs. She would run all the way there if she had to.

At the gate, she rapidly explained her mission. The guard nodded and let her out.

She’d taken no mantle, and the cold air stung at her face and pierced her clothes. Halfway there, she remembered she’d brought no coin or valuables to pay the healer. She’d have to bargain with Helwenna and convince her that this was a matter of importance. This time ’twas not some frail villein’s daughter who was ill, but the new lord. If Brevrienne did not live, it would go hard with all of them.

A few people stood outside of their huts as Edeva passed. “’Tis the Norman lord,” she told them. “He’s been injured.”

They watched her with stoic, patient eyes.

She was gasping for breath by the time she reached the healer’s hut. Outside, she paused, feeling the sweat cool on her face, then she went in.

“Helwenna, you must help me.” She approached the old woman. “I have no coin to pay you, but you must aid me. The Norman lord has been badly wounded.”

“So,” Helwenna cackled, “that’s what those soldiers were making such a fuss about. I thought they were going to spit me like a roast goose.” She laughed again. “No matter to me, I’d be grateful to be delivered from this woeful life.”

Edeva bent nearer, trying not to gag at the odor. “I’m not going to threaten you, but you must help. When the Normans return, you have to go with them.”

Helwenna shook her head. “I’ll not leave here until I am carried to my byre.”

Edeva knelt by the healer’s pallet, her hands clenched into fists. “You have to. If the Norman dies, they will kill all of us, torch the village. Everyone will suffer. You cannot be so selfish as to let that happen!”

“Then they are evil men. Why should I work to keep one of them alive?”

“The Norman lord is not evil. If he lives, I think he will do well for Oxbury. He is just and strong. How many lords can that be said of?”

Helwenna’s dark eyes gleamed. “You are fond of him? Why did you not say so?”

“Aye.” Edeva took a shaky breath. “I am fond of him. I truly do not want him to die.”

“I won’t go with you, but I’ll tell you what to do.”

“I am no healer... I cannot...”

“Think you that these would be any use?” Helwenna held up her gnarled, swollen hands. “You must be my hands, Edeva. And my eyes. Tell me what the wound looks like. Where it is, how deep, everything.”

* * *

“I would not have believed it, but it seems to be helping,” Rob said.

Fornay moved nearer to the bed and nodded grudgingly. “Still, he does not wake.”

“Loss of blood, weakness... is that not right, Lady Edeva? But the wound looks better. That is something.”

Edeva leaned over and stroked Brevrienne’s brow, searching for fever. As odd as Helwenna’s instructions had been, they seemed to have worked. The wound was closing up nicely, and Brevrienne’s forehead felt cool.

“Who would have thought a poultice of moldy bread could heal?”

“’Tis something in the blight, Helwenna said.” Edeva stretched wearily. She’d scarce slept in the last day and a half. “It stops wounds from festering.”

“My lady, you should rest,” Rob said. “We’ll keep watch and call you if he worsens or wakes.”

She nodded and moved leadenly to the door. For a moment or two, she’d lie down. If she did not, she’d be no good to anyone.

* * *

As if climbing out of a dark, empty pit, Jobert awoke. At first, he was aware of only the throbbing pain in his shoulder, and then his other senses came to life. The smell of a brazier burning. The feel of warm, soft blankets against his naked skin. He opened his eyes. Dark shapes loomed over him. “Where am I?” he asked.

Rob’s face came into view. “You’re at Oxbury, my lord. You asked us to bring you here, and so we did.”

Jobert remembered fevered agonized dreams, the dread of dying. “Where is she? Where is Edeva?”

Alan leaned over him. “Rest now. Do not try to talk.”

Jobert nodded feebly. The pain grew worse; the fire of it swallowed his thoughts.

“I’m going to give you some poppy and mandrake the surgeon gave us. ’Twill help you sleep.”

Alan held a cup to his lips. Weary beyond reason, Jobert drank. He felt himself sliding down into the pit once more. “Edeva,” he whispered.

“S
hould we not call Lady Edeva?” Rob asked.

Alan grunted. “He does not need her aid.”

“I think you are wrong. I think he would recover more quickly if he knew she sat by his bedside. On the way here, when he was fevered, he asked for her.”

“Brevrienne has always had poor judgment regarding women. First, it was Damaris. Even when her father forbid Jobert to see her, he could not stay away. Valois had Jobert thrown into a dungeon, very nearly cost him his life.” He shook his head. “Now, he entangles himself with a scheming Saxon!”

“I cannot think ill of her. She has always done well by the manor. The people of Oxbury respect her. If Brevrienne wed with her, ’twould give his authority here more weight.”

“She’s a cunning slut. She has fooled all of you.” Alan gave his companion a dark look. “I know she meets with the rebels. She has kin among them, mayhaps brothers or uncles. If a chance arises, she will aid them, have no doubt. She is no natural woman, even though she has traded her man’s garb for kirtles, her weapons for a needle and thread. Mark my words, she waits until the time is right. Then, like a viper, she will strike.”

“She does not seem devious to me. Besides, if she were working with the rebels, why did they not attack while Brevrienne was gone? ’Twould have been the logical time to make their move.”

Alan smiled sourly. “’Tis Brevrienne they want. Once he is dead, they believe we will all drift away and they can reclaim Oxbury.”

“But I do not understand Lady Edeva’s part in it. A dozen times, she could have killed him. Poisoned his food, cut his throat as he slept...”

“She is weak, like all women. Weak and afraid, though she does not show it. But someday the rebels will goad her to act. She will not have to do the deed, but simply betray him to his enemies.”

Rob shook his head. “Your plot seems farfetched. Have you proof regarding Lady Edeva’s plans?”

“I’ve seen her meet with the rebels.”

“Have you told Jobert?”

“I’ve not had the chance to tell him of it yet,”

“You’re certain there could be no mistake?”

“’Twas in the village. She’d convinced me to go there because of Wulfget, the woman who was burned in the kitchen fire. Wulfget was sore injured, ’tis true, but I doubt that was Edeva’s motive. She insisted I escort her. While I was in the hut with the healer and Wulfget, she pursued her real purpose. I went looking for her and saw her meet a Saxon who came out of the forest. His beard was long, his clothes filthy. He did not look like a villager, but a warrior. They argued. He grabbed her arm and threatened her. She appeared guilty and nervous when she returned to the hut.” He nodded slowly. “’Twas one of the rebels, I’d swear it.”

“But you said they argued. She may have refused to aid him.”

“That time, mayhaps. But there will be other attempts. Eventually, she will do their bidding.”

Rob sighed. “If what you say is true, then we should not leave her alone with Brevrienne until he heals enough to defend himself.”

Alan glanced toward the prone form of his lord on the bed. “Nay, we should not.”

* * *

Edeva jerked awake. She’d been dreaming. A familiar nightmare, where the manor was on fire and she could not get her feet to move so she could run to get help nor her mouth to scream out a warning.

She sat up, realizing she was on a cot in the women’s area of the hall. The panic gradually subsided, until she remembered the other nightmare, the one that was real. Brevrienne was wounded.

She jumped off the cot and hurried toward the stairs.

The upper bedchamber was dark, lit only by the glow from the brazier beside the bed. Rob sat on a stool nearby “How fares he?” Edeva asked. “Did he wake?”

“For a few moments only.”

She leaned over and felt Jobert’s forehead, giving a sigh of relief as she found his skin cool and dry. Reluctantly, she drew her hand away. She wished she could touch him more freely, but the knight beside the bed inhibited her. She turned to Rob. “Leave us.”

“My lady, Alan said that you should not be left alone with him.”

“Fornay be damned! If I wished to harm him, why have I done all this?” She pointed to the bandage on Jobert’s shoulder.

Rob still hesitated. She rounded on him “Go, I said! I would be alone with him!”

“Spoken like a true hellcat.”

Edeva gasped and faced the bed. “You’re awake!”

“Barely.” Jobert gave a heavy sigh. “I heard your voice and knew that I was at Oxbury... at last.” He looked at Rob. “Do as she bids. That is an order.”

For one second Rob paused, then he mumbled, “Milord,” and went out.

“You should not have made them bring you here,” Edeva chided. “You should have stayed in Gloucester and let them tend you there. You nearly bled to death on the journey!”

“Don’t scold me. I am too weak to endure the lash of your sharp tongue.”

“I’m sorry.” Tears stung her eyes. He was right. Always she acted the shrew. Why could she not be a proper woman, gentle and meek?

She moved closer to the bed and lowered her voice. “They said you were injured in an ambush. That there was no battle.”

“The Saxons fled before our host. But some of them must have doubled back and hid among the trees. Our troop was one of the last to leave the field. I was fortunate. If the bolt had struck lower, or gone into my neck...” He paused.

She put a hand on his arm, sick at the thought of the gruesome death he had almost faced.

“Edeva, have you ever heard of your countrymen using the crossbow?”

She shook her head. “What manner of weapon is that?”

“A deadly one, capable of piercing armor. Even the finest mail is no defense against it, as I have learned.”

Edeva suddenly realized the strangeness of Jobert’s injury. He’d been in full armor, yet an arrow had gone right through his mailed shirt, imbedding deeply in his shoulder. She shook her head. “Nay, our men fight with swords, lances and axes, as well as the bow and arrow, but nothing that could inflict the injury you have.”

“The Saxons must be desperate. They know they cannot defeat us in fair battle, so they seek to kill us one by one. Still, it seems strange they chose our band to attack.” He sighed softly. Edeva wondered what troubled him. She did not want him to tire himself.

“Rest now.” She leaned over to smooth the covers. “Do you want me to bring you poppy and mandrake so you can sleep?”

“Nay, I wish you to lie beside me.”

Her hands stilled on the bedding. The tenderness in his voice made her melt.

“I want to feel your warmth near me. When I lay in the tavern in Gloucester, I thought I would die. I dreamed that I was dead and cold already, even though they say I burned with fever.”

A lump filled Edeva’s throat. It made her ache to think of him suffering so.

She took off her shoes and started to get into bed with him. He said, “You’ll be more comfortable if you take off your kirtle.” His eyes shone in the light of brazier. Wistfully, he added, “I am not much use to you at this moment, but I would have you near anyway.”

Edeva pulled her gunna over her head. Clad in her shift, she climbed over Jobert and settled herself beside him. He moved as if trying to turn toward her. “Lie still,” she whispered.

She snuggled under the coverlet, then put her arms around his chest and rested her face against his good shoulder.

’Twas strange, but she felt safe for the first time in months. His chest rose and fell with the slow rhythm of his breathing, and his body felt cozy warm against hers. Closing her eyes, she could forget the hatred and violence whirling around them. There was naught but them, two creatures seeking comfort from each other.

There was a clatter at the door. Edeva jerked upright, wishing she had locked it. Fornay came striding in. He started to say something, then saw her in the bed. “Jesu, woman, have you no shame? Can you not wait for him to heal before you resume your whoring ways?”

Edeva climbed out of the bed, not caring that she wore only a shift. “He asked me to lie with him!” she spat. “It’s you whose thoughts are lewd!”

“You curl yourself around him like a snake coiling around its prey.” Fornay’s lips twisted in scorn. “I vow I will be rid of you now, while I have a chance.”

His dagger hissed from its scabbard. Edeva faced him defiantly, her body tense and ready. He would learn she knew a little of warfare. He would not find her easy to kill!

“God’s balls, Alan, what madness has come over you!”

Alan turned to face the man on the bed. In that split second, Edeva charged. Head down, she butted her opponent hard in the belly. His sword clattered to the floor, and Fornay went down like a sack of grain. Edeva loomed over him, hands on her hips.

“Why do you not jump on him and scratch his eyes out while you have a chance?” Edeva turned as Jobert spoke. “Nay, I do not mean it,” he said hastily. “I was merely jesting.” He gave a short laugh, then moaned. “I fear I cannot properly appreciate the mirth of this situation, lest I tear open my wound.”

Edeva, alarmed, rushed to the bed. “Lie back,” she ordered.

“How can I remain still when the two of you are at each other’s throats? I have problems enough without having to replace my captain and my chatelaine all at once.”

“I’m sorry we woke you,” Edeva said, “but ’twas he who started it.” Embarrassment replaced her fury. Damn Fornay. He had goaded her into acting like a brawling squire!

“What’s come over you, Alan?” Jobert asked the knight who was now getting to his feet. “Once you argued that I could not hang her because she was woman. Now you attempt to skewer her on your dagger.”

“My lord, I...”

“He hates me,” Edeva said. “He thinks I mean to betray you.”

“She is in league with the rebels, I know it!” Fornay exploded. “Rid yourself of her now. If you don’t want her killed, at least banish her from the palisade!”

“And then who will order the servants and see to the household?” Jobert asked calmly. “I value your loyalty, Alan, but you do not speak Saxon. I have no wish to see things return to the disorder we endured when we first arrived here.”

Edeva’s heart sank. He did not care for her; he merely sought her aid in running Oxbury.

Fornay’s lips drew together in a thin line, and his dark eyes glowed with barely restrained animosity. He leaned down to pick up his dagger and replace it in his belt. “If you need anything, milord, I will be outside the door.”

Edeva watched Fornay stalk out, his dignity held stiff around him. She had her victory, but it seemed hollow. Once again, she’d acted like an uncouth virago. How would she ever convince Jobert to see her as a lady, a wife, if she did not learn to act like one?

With a shock, she realized that was what she wanted. She wanted the Norman to wed with her.

“Fornay is a stubborn one,” Jobert mused. “When he gets a notion in his head, ‘tis fair impossible to dislodge it. But I would not have him humbled, Edeva. He’s my captain, and I need him to defend Oxbury. I won’t have you castrating him while he sleeps nor poisoning him in the hall.”

“I would not do that!”

“Nay, nor even making a fool of him, whether alone or in front of others.”

Edeva bristled. Jobert was treating her as her brothers had, admonishing her to behave herself, as if she was an unruly little girl. “Then, keep him away from me,” she warned. “I allow no one to shame nor taunt me, either.”

Jobert nodded, then closed his eyes and sighed.

Edeva felt her stomach twist with worry. What had she been thinking of, to distress a man so gravely injured? She went to him and stroked his cheek, roughed now by a sennight’s worth of ruddy whiskers.

His breathing grew slow and deep. Edeva stared down at him, her body relaxing as his did. What was this hold that Jobert had over her, that the thought of him suffering filled her with dread? Once he had been her enemy, the monster of her nightmares. Now she longed to please him, yearned to be near him, and dreamed that he might join with her in marriage. ’Twas madness. Her closest kin were locked in a battle to the death with this man, and she contemplated what it would be like to be his wife.

She closed her eyes. One afternoon of passion and she was his slave. Such bewitchment was not supposed to happen to women. The man was the one beguiled by lovemaking, ensorcelled by his bedpartner’s body. But she could not stop thinking about him. The sight of him, even pale and sickly, made her heart pound. His scent seemed the rarest of perfumes. The pleasure of being near him made her sigh with contentment.

She returned to her place beside him.

* * *

He woke from a dream where Saxons were everywhere, swords flashing, eyes shining with battle lust, eager to kill him. The familiar tension filled his body as he prepared to defend himself Then the grinding pain in his shoulder reminded him of his true circumstances. Flat on his back in a bed, as helpless as a newborn puppy.

And the Saxon who lay near him meant him not ill but good. Fornay might doubt her, but Jobert could not. If Edeva had meant to harm him, she would have done so long ago—stabbed him in the back while he bathed that first time.

But even then, full of hate and visions of revenge, she failed to carry out the deed.

Nay, he would not mistrust her now. ’Twas not merely that he respected her sense of honor, that he believed she was not the sort for deceit and treachery, but also his dream that she might someday love him. She had cared for him so tenderly these last few days. Surely it meant that she had some feelings for him.

If only he were able to make love with her. But he was a useless, sickly wretch right now. Though his shaft grew hard at such thoughts, he could do nothing.

He stirred uncomfortably. Edeva immediately awoke. “What’s wrong? Are you thirsty? In pain?”

She sat up in bed and leaned over him. The sight of her in the flimsy shift increased his arousal. “Get me one of the men,” he said. “I need to make water.”

“When you were delirious and weak, I tended you. It did not bother me.”

“Well, I am awake now, and I would have one of the men!” His voice came out brusquer than he intended, but, God’s balls, he did not need any reminder of her touching him!