The Falls of Erith (19 page)

She
waved back, her heart swelling with a feeling she’d never before known. It made
her limbs weak and a strange quivering filled her. She couldn’t stop smiling. 
She watched as Norman led Braxton off the field, still astride his beast, and
then there was another knight to take his place at the post start. Sir Geoff,
astride his big bay stallion, looked every inch as imposing as Braxton had.

The
field marshals officiating the event took their places as both competitors
signaled their readiness. The crowd hushed to an expectant buzz. As she watched
Geoff make a thundering run against the big black knight from Northumbria, she
felt Brooke poke her in the arm.

“Mama?”
she poked her again. “May Edgar and I have some custard?”

Gray
turned to the two faces sitting next to her; lovely Brooke and handsome Edgar. 
Edgar’s ankle was up on the bench in front of them to keep it elevated.  Gray
was about to reply in the affirmative when she realized that she had no money
on her. Braxton had paid for everything. Somewhat embarrassed as to what to say
to the children, she was about to give them the generic ‘later’ answer when she
caught sight of a man in armor at the base of the lists. Her amber eyes
immediately focused in on Braxton as he made his way towards them from the
dusty staging grounds with Norman trailing after him.

His
forehead was creased where the helm had rested upon his head and his face was
tinged red from having been contained in the sweaty confines of the three-point
helmet, but his expression was pleasant. He smiled at Gray when their eyes met,
even at a distance.

“Look,”
Gray distracted Brooke and Edgar by pointing. “Here comes Sir Braxton. Perhaps
he would like some custard, too?”

Brooke
shot to her feet and began waving madly.  “Sir Braxton!” she shouted. “Here we
are!”

He
lifted his hand in response. As he reached the lists, he stood next to the
platform, his eyes only for Gray.

“I
thought I’d better come and feed this famished crowd,” he said. “Watching a
tournament can give one a ravenous appetite.”

Gray
lifted an eyebrow. “How did you guess?”

He
winked at her. “I was a child once myself, believe it or not.” He waved a big
hand at Brooke. “Come along, young woman. Let us go and find you some custard.”

Brooke
almost tripped in her haste to leave her seat. “What about Mother? Can she
come, too?”

Braxton
held out a hand to steady Brooke as she fumbled for the stairs, but his eyes
returned to Gray. “I was rather hoping she would.”

Gray
smiled, a faint pink flush to her cheeks. “I would love to come, but we simply
cannot leave Edgar here alone.”

The
lad looked surprised at the mention of his name. “I can wait by myself, my
lady,” he stammered.

While
Gray looked doubtful, Braxton spoke. “Edgar is indeed quite capable of taking
care of himself until we return. Come along, sweet.”

Gray
stood up and left her seat, descending the steps from the lists right into
Braxton’s waiting hands. He took her on one elbow and Brooke on the other, feeling
prouder than he ever had in his life. It was one thing to be prideful of one’s
skills and reputation; it was entirely another to be proud of the company one
kept.  He knew, without a doubt, that he was in the presence of the most
beautiful woman in Cumbria and her equally lovely daughter.

“Now
that I am the envy of every man here,” he said, his blue-green eyes scanning
the street and crowds beyond, “let us locate this vendor with custards and
fattening tarts.”

Brooke
giggled girlishly, pulling Braxton along more than she was actually following
him. Her pretty new surcoat of soft blue linen looked sweet and elegant. She
swished the skirt around with her free hand as they walked, never happier or
more carefree in her young life.

“There
is a vendor over there with something on his cart,” she jabbed her finger over
to the left. “There are several people around him. Whatever he has must be
good.”

Braxton
turned in that direction, allowing Brooke to half-pull, half-drag him along.
“Then it is as good a place to start as any,” he glanced at Gray, looking so
lovely with her hair off her slender neck. “And you, my lady? Do you have any
preference on sweets and other gluttonous items?”

She
met his gaze, feeling the warmth that now sprouted so easily between them.  She
did so enjoy looking at him. “Whatever my daughter wishes is fine with me,” she
said, tightening her grip on his arm. “You are most generous to allow her such
treats, my lord.”

He
lifted an eyebrow at her and mouthed
Braxton
. She grinned and nodded her
head.  “Lady Brooke has behaved herself admirably today in the wake of Edgar’s
injury,” he said. “She deserves a reward.”

Brooke’s
guilt at Edgar’s injury returned. She didn’t want to incriminate herself and
risk not getting custard, so she ignored the comment and continued to pull
Braxton and her mother along.  Norman was following behind them, a silent
reminder to Brooke’s bad behavior. She hoped that he would not tell on her, but
she could feel his stare against her back. Norman was a big lad; she suspected
he could be intimidating if he wanted to be. But she would not let him frighten
her.  Had Edgar not been so awful, she would not have chased him. It was
Edgar’s own fault…
wasn’t it
?

By
the time they reached the vendor, some of the crowd had cleared away and they
could get a good look at the vendor’s table; dried meats, warm wine, and globs
of almond milk pudding nestled in hollow gourds.  Brooke immediately went for
the pudding and Braxton found himself paying for five of them. Norman inhaled
his pudding in three bites. Brooke devoured hers shortly thereafter and Braxton
bought her another one. Gray held on to her pudding, and on to Edgar’s, fearful
that it would vanish if her daughter got a hold of it. Braxton, grinning at the
ravenous youngsters, handed his pudding over to Norman. The lad grinned and
shoveled it down, although a bit more slowly than the first.  Braxton slapped
him affectionately on the back of the head.

They
were half way across the avenue when Graehm suddenly appeared. In full armor,
he made his way straight to Braxton.  His expression was wrought with
seriousness.

“My
lord,” he said shortly. “Geoff took a bad hit in his round with de Aughton. The
physic is with him now.”

Braxton
didn’t react outwardly, but Gray gasped softly. “What happened?” Braxton asked
calmly.

“The
pole broke and the jagged edge went right into his neck,” Graehm explained. 
“We carried him off the field and back to the staging area.”

Braxton’s
pace picked up as they continued their way back to the tournament field. “Is it
a mortal wound?”

“’Tis
possible, my lord. He bleeds a great deal.”

Braxton
didn’t say anymore.  He escorted Gray and Brooke back to the lists before
continuing on with Norman and Graehm. 

As
Brooke took Edgar’s pudding from her mother and made haste back to her seat,
Gray paused as she mounted the steps, watching Braxton and his men stride
away.  If Geoff was as bad as Graehm said he was, then perhaps she could help.
Lord knows, Braxton had already done enough for her and for Erith. Perhaps this
was one time she could attempt to return the favor. Gathering her skirt, she
bade Brooke and Edgar to wait in the lists as she followed Braxton’s trail off
across the tournament grounds.

Since
she already knew where Braxton’s camp was interred, it took her little time to
reach it.  Several men were milling about, mostly de Nerra men-at-arms. They
hovered outside of the smaller of the two tents, speaking in muted tones. Gray
acknowledged them as she walked between them, her focus on the tent opening and
the dimness beyond. No one stopped her when she peeled back the flap.

She
could see someone lying on their back just inside the door; there were at least
three bodies hovering over the supine form so she could see little more than
booted feet.  Braxton, who had been peering over the shoulder of a round,
hairy-faced man, looked up when she walked into the tent. His eyes widened at
the sight of her and he straightened up.

“Lady
Gray,” he greeted. “Is something…?”

She
cut him off politely. “I came to see if I could help, my lord.”

He
went to her, his hand on her elbow. “The physic is tending him. Though I thank
you for your kindness, I doubt there is anything you can do.”

Her
amber eyes met his blue-green orbs. There was a spark, a jolt of warmth that
passed between them as he touched her. “May I at least see him?” she asked
softly.

Braxton
could see she only wished to help.  He smiled faintly and led her back over to
where he had been standing. At their feet lay Geoff, pale and unconscious, with
an ugly cluster of splinters sticking out of his neck.  The physic and the
man’s assistant were attempting to pull the splinters free, one at a time,
holding a soiled rag up against the gushing wound in an attempt to prevent the
man from bleeding to death.  They weren’t doing a very good job; blood was
everywhere.

Gray
could see that the knight was going to bleed to death unless they changed their
method. She instinctively opened her mouth to speak but quickly thought better
of it. She did not want to seem overbearing, yet she could not stand by and
watch this man die.  Braxton heard her soft gasp.

“What
is it?” he asked quietly.

A
man’s life was at stake. She could not keep silent about it. “They are going
about this all wrong,” she whispered. “The wound must be stitched closed as
they remove the wood. All they are managing to do now is pulling out whatever
material is holding back the tide of blood. Soon they will remove it all and
everything will drain out, like pulling a cork from a bottle.”

Braxton
looked over at Dallas, at Graehm. “Remove the physic,” he snapped softly. 
“Lady Gray will tend him.”

As
the knights not-so-gently pulled the men up, to much protest, Braxton firmly
guided Gray to the seat vacated by the physic. She objected for a split second
before realizing he was not about to listen to her. He believed what she had
told him, having made perfect sense, and was now trusting her with the life of
Geoff.   She was terrified, uncertain, and pleased all at the same time. The
knights had passed the physic and his helper off to the men at arms, who were
now practically throwing them from the tent. As she took the seat, she forced
away her hesitation and struggled to collect her thoughts.

“I
need hot water, needles and gut, and lots of it,” she rattled off the list to
anyone who would listen. “I also need whiskey and witch hazel. Braxton, do you
remember the apothecary we saw this afternoon? He would have these things. More
than likely, he would have other things to help heal Sir Geoff. But I need them
now. There is no time to waste.”

Braxton
listened carefully to her demands and nodded shortly, snapping his fingers at
Dallas and Graehm. “Dallas, go to the next avenue and find the small apothecary
stall near the edge of the street. Get what we need from him.” He looked at Graehm.
“Hot water, all you can find. And keep it coming.” As his men bolted off, he
continued to stand over Gray as she gingerly inspected the injury.  After
several long moments, she shook her head.

“This
is bad,” she murmured. “I shall have to remove a splinter and stitch the area
closed before I remove the next so that the wound will have some chance of
healing.”

He
put his big hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. “I would be grateful for
whatever you could do for him.”

She
tilted her head back to look at him, his face a few inches from hers.   Their
eyes met and he could not resist depositing a tender kiss on her sweet lips. 
He wanted to do so much more but a spasm from Geoff caught his attention. He
and Gray looked back at the knight, who was now awake and staring up at them.
Braxton wondered if he had caught the kiss, but upon reflection, did not care
much if he had.

“D’uberville,”
he greeted. “You have had a bit of an accident.”

Geoff
blinked is big blue eyes. “I… I do not remember much,” his voice was faint and
hoarse. “What happened?”

He
was beginning to put his hands up, to feel the area of injury, and Gray quickly
grasped both of his hands and held them tight. “Not to worry, Sir Geoff,” she
said in a gentle, soothing voice. “I will do all that I can to make you as good
as new.”

Geoff
looked at her, a flicker of fear in his eyes. “Is it bad?”

She
forced a smile. “I have seen worse. You must rest now and allow me to do this
task.”

He
didn’t ask any more questions; he simply closed his eyes.  When she was sure
that he was dozing and would not try to feel his injury again, Gray let go of
his hands and looked at Braxton. There was a mixture of hope and sorrow in her
eyes.  He put his hand on her shoulder again, giving her another squeeze as his
lips found her temple. He kissed her tenderly, twice, before releasing her.

“Do
you require anything else?” he asked. “Is there something more I can do?”