Vengeance 03 - Believe In Me (8 page)

***

Cristiana dried off with Branwen’s assistance, grateful to have removed the dust from the road which had seeped into every part of her body. Branwen seemed happy to have had a bath as well, though she’d insisted on hurrying through her own so she could assist Cristiana.

Despite her hope that
some normalcy would restore Branwen’s memory, that was not the case. Twice Cristiana had raised the subject of the night of her mother’s death, but each time, Branwen had become extremely upset, her sentences dwindling to muttered words which made no sense.

“Will you see if anyone guards the door?” Cristiana asked
the maid. She didn’t want to miss an opportunity to sneak away if possible.

Branwen
frowned at her request but did as asked. “One of the men-at-arms is watching the entrance.”

Cristiana sighed. She should’ve known William wouldn’t forget. But the night was still young and with luck,
additional opportunities would arise.

Few people were in the bath house. Cristiana guessed it was because
most women would be busy preparing the evening meal. She’d been grateful to find the women’s section separated from the men’s. Having William escort her and Branwen this far had been distracting enough. She couldn’t imagine sharing a bath with him.

Or rather...she could.

The man did things to her when she but looked at him.

“Here, my lady.
” Branwen held out Cristiana’s kirtle. She’d shaken out as much dust as she could. The maid combed her fingers through Cristiana’s hair, leaving it loose to dry quicker.

“Sister Mawde managed to acquire a clean gown for you, Branwen.” Cristiana waited, wondering if the maid would wear it. The nun had gotten it from the innkeeper’s wife. Though worn, the simple brown dress was far better than the rag Branwen had
arrived in.

With tentative fingers, the maid took it and held it up to her slim form. “That was kind of her.”

Cristiana breathed a sigh of relief as Branwen donned it, seeming quite pleased with her new gown.

“Let us go see if the others are rea
dy. You look much better, more like yourself. Are you hungry?” Cristiana asked.

They made their way out of the bath house
where the man-at-arms waited for them. Before Cristiana could ask about the others, William and Henry exited the opposite side of the low, stone bath house.

William’s
dark tunic clung to his body, still damp from his bath. Seeing him without his surcoat and mail made her heart quicken. His hair was wet, even wavier than usual. The smile on his face froze as he caught sight of her. The intensity of his gaze made her wonder how dirty she’d been that a bath would change her appearance. She glanced down to make sure she was properly attired.

The others
started toward the inn, but William remained before her.

She raised h
er brow in question, studying his brown eyes that held a ring of green in their depths. “What is it?”

His
heated gaze dropped to her lips and her breath caught in her throat. He reached out to run a finger along the length of her unbound hair, making her scalp tingle.

“Do you ever long for things that cannot be?” he whispered, sending shivers down her spine.

“Indeed, I do,” she whispered back. Impulsively, she gave into one of those longings by lifting up on her toes to press a kiss to his lips.

Before he could react, she stepped back and
spun to hurry after the others, refusing to regret the moment. Now she had one more memory to cherish in the uncertain days ahead.

That made her smile.

***

Cristiana stirred restlessly, unable to get comfortable in the inn’s bed
later that night. All she could think of was the heat of William’s gaze as he’d stared at her earlier. Of his whispered question about longing. What had he meant exactly?

It made no difference she told herself as she pounded the
bolster yet again, trying to manipulate the straw to a more comfortable position.

Soon, they would part ways. With luck, that would come yet
this night.

Branwen slept on a pallet on the floor
near the fire. The maid had seemed more like her usual self after their bath and the roasted venison they’d had for supper. Cristiana still hoped more time without the stress of being on her own would allow the maid to recover her senses. She couldn’t bear to think Branwen would never be able to tell her what had happened the night of her mother’s death. She would do everything in her power to help Branwen recover. As the only witness, the maid might be the one way Cristiana had to prove what had happened to her mother.

She hoped traveling on their own would not set the m
aid back further, but Cristiana had no choice—they had to leave now. If not on the morrow then on the day after, they would arrive at the bishop’s.

The sounds of the inn’s occupants settling down for the night
drifted through the building. The footsteps on the stairs faded, leaving nothing but silence in their wake.

With a sob, she put her hands over her face, overwhelmed at the task before her.
She wanted to continue the journey with William as much as she longed to escape. For several moments, she remained in the warmth of the bed, undecided. Did she do the right thing? Was any other path open to her that would honor her mother and allow herself a chance at happiness?

Nay.
She’d set her course and she must continue.

Cristiana rose and donned her clothes quickly
, resigned to what needed to be done. Her cloak hung on a peg near the door and she put on that as well. Treading lightly, she moved to where Branwen slept. The maid was curled into a ball on her side, facing the fire, snoring softly.

Cristiana put another
piece of wood on it to warm the small room, then reached out to shake Branwen’s shoulder. Her cloak billowed out as she bent over.

Blood curdling screams rent the air
. The maid’s terrified gaze saw something that Cristiana did not want to imagine. “Demons! The demons have come again!”

“Branwen!
Stop! ’Tis only me.”

The maid looked at her with wild eyes, not seeming to recognize her at all. The screaming continued as Branwen scrambled back.

Pounding sounded at the door. “Cristiana?”

Cristiana hesitated, her hands over her ears, uncertain as to which
noise to try to stop first.

The sound of splintering wood helped her make up her mind. She hurried to the door before William broke
it completely. She struggled with the latch, at last freeing it, and swung open the door.

With a glare at the tall knight, she hurried over to the
terrified maid and knelt down beside her.

“Branwen.
That is enough. You are safe.” She said the words more sternly than she meant to, but truly, the screaming and crying were enough to make her daft. She shook the maid’s shoulders for good measure. “You are safe.”

At last the maid seemed to gather her wits.
Her chest heaved as her eyes darted around the room, tears running down her face.

“
Planning to leave, were you?” William asked from directly behind Cristiana.

Cristiana sighed. Th
e night was going nothing like she’d planned. She rose and turned to face him. “Nay. Why do you ask?”

He ran his gaze up and down the length of her, taking in her cloak and kirtle. “That seems like unusual attire to wear to bed.”

“I was cold.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw, whether from impatience or suppressed laughter, she couldn’t tell.

“Why was she screaming?” he asked, his voice quiet as he glanced at Branwen.

“I startled her when I put
more wood on the fire.” At least that part was true. She hated to lie.

Henry appeared in the doorway. “Is all well?”

“Aye. Go back to sleep,” William said.

With a
frown at Cristiana and her cloak, Henry nodded, closing the door behind him.

William stared at her, making Cristiana shift uneasily. She wished she knew what he was thinking. She couldn’t help but ask, “Were you re
ally sleeping outside my door?”

He smiled, but it was not a friendly sort of smile. “That is for me to know.”

With a scowl, she turned to Branwen. “Are you all right?”

“I’m terribly sorry, my lady. You startled me. I’m not used to being woken like that.”

“Lady Cristiana woke you?” William folded his arms over his chest as though prepared to listen to all the maid had to say.

“Why do you have your cloak on?” Branwen asked with a frown. “Are you going somewhere?”

Cristiana had the urge to hit something.

“She was cold,” William answered on her behalf, his lips twitching as he glanced at Cristiana.
“Isn’t that right?”

“But
’tis quite warm in here,” Branwen argued.

“I would like to get back to bed if the two of you are done chatting.”
Cristiana gritted her teeth with frustration.

Branwen’s eyes widened in alarm.
“I meant no offense, my lady.”

Cristiana
sighed, suddenly weary. “I know, Branwen. Let us return to bed. I didn’t intend to frighten you.” She turned to William. “I’m sorry for disturbing your sleep.”

“
I’m sure you are.” The look on his face would’ve been amusing if it hadn’t been directed at her.

Branwen settled down on her pallet by the fire as Cristiana walked William to the door.

“Lock it behind me.”

“I’m grateful there’s a door left to lock,” Cristiana
said as she unfastened her cloak. Her plan had been so thoroughly compromised she didn’t think any hope remained of reinstating it. Now she realized that escaping with Branwen posed a bigger problem than she’d anticipated. Yet she couldn’t leave her behind.

William tipped up her chin. “No more attempts to escape.
’Tis not safe.”

She nodded. Anything to avo
id saying what came to her mind:
Neither is staying with you.

He pressed a light kiss on her lips. “Sleep,” he ordered then closed the door firmly behind him.

William scanned the
narrow road ahead then turned his horse to the rear of their small group, making certain all was well. They’d gotten off to a slow start that morn, much to his frustration. While he wasn’t eager to part company with Cristiana, traveling with Sister Mawde and Branwen was a challenge unto itself—one of which he’d be pleased to see the end.

“Will we be resting
soon?” Sister Mawde asked as he rode by.

“We’ve only just left.” He had always thought of himself as a patient man, but the nun tested his limits. “Do you require a stop already?”

“I merely wanted to know,” the sister said, obviously offended at his tone.

“I will be sure to adv
ise you as to our schedule.”

He continued to the back where the men-at-arms rode.
Except for snaring the rabbits, the two men’s performance on this trip had left much to be desired. It seemed they were better hunters than guards.

“
Keep a watchful eye. This area is more populated and we’re likely to come across others.”

“We will be extra vigilant,” one man replied.

Somehow, his comment didn’t make William feel any better. He remained in the back of the group, content for the moment to let Henry lead the way.

The wooded hills and curving road made for limited visibility of
anyone approaching but this was the only road to Longsbury. He didn’t know what had him uneasy this day, but he felt the need to be on guard. He’d learned long ago never to ignore his instincts.

They’d made good progress when
Henry raised his hand high.

William galloped forward
and immediately saw what the problem was. A small group of people, most likely a family by the look of them, were huddled on the side of the road beside a cart. The conveyance listed to one side. An ox grazed the grass beside the road, the broken cart of no concern to it.

The family looked as though they’d seen b
etter days. Their clothes were worn and dusty. The mother had been crying, her tears leaving tracks on her dusty face. As they drew closer, William could see she held a young boy in her arms. A girl stood nearby, keeping an eye on the ox as the father stared at the broken wheel.

“Good day to you,” William said. “
Can we offer assistance?”

Henry glanced
at him as though surprised he’d asked.

While they were in a hurry to get to Longsbury, William
couldn’t imagine not helping someone obviously in need of aid.

“
We would be most grateful,” the man said as he rose from where he knelt beside the wheel. “We are on our way to Longsbury, hoping to work on the renovations to the cathedral when my son fell ill.” He gestured toward the cart. “Now we are having problems with the wheel.”

William gestured to one of the men-at-arms to assist and for the other to remain on guard
with the women. Henry dismounted along with William and the other man-at-arms.

Before he had a chance to tell her not to, Cristiana had dismounted as well.

“I know something of healing. Perhaps I can be of assistance while the men repair the cart,” she told the woman.

“Oh, that would be most welcome, my lady,” the woman said.

William moved to stand near Cristiana. “Are you certain about this?”

“I have to do what I can to help just as you do,” she advised him with a nod at the cart.

“All right,” he agreed reluctantly. “Take care.”

She nodded. “The less people watching the better off I’ll be.”

With all the men assisting, they moved the cart to level ground so the wheel and axle could be examined closer. To William’s relief, the axle was only splintered. He thought it could be bound with rope as a temporary repair until they reached Longsbury and could replace the axle.

Cristiana
left the cart to the men and knelt beside the mother who held the sleeping boy in her lap. “How long has he been ill?”

“
Nearly two days. At first, he was very tired and wouldn’t eat. But this morn, a fever took hold and now he can barely keep his eyes open.” Her worried blue eyes met Cristiana’s. “He’s never been so sick.”

“How old is he?” Cristiana asked as she studied his small, thin form.
His dark hair framed rounded cheeks. Long, dark lashes cast shadows on his pale face.

“He’s seen
eight winters.” She ran a gentle hand over his hair, her worry evident.

Cristiana glanced over to where the men worked on the cart. They all
appeared engrossed in the task. She decided there was no better moment than now.

“Has he had any other signs of illness?” she asked, hoping to keep the woman distracted.

“Not that I have noticed.”

The mother
watched closely as Cristiana ran her hands along his shoulders, his neck, seeking the hottest part of his body. That was the best spot from which to draw the illness. The problem with the boy lay in the fact that his entire body felt hot.

“Do you have some herbs or something to give him?”

Ah, yes. Time for the doubt, the worry about what she was doing. She should know to expect it, but that didn’t make it easier to respond.

“I want to see if there is any particular area that bothers him most.” She continued moving her hands along, pausing here and there. A glance at the mother’s
concerned expression guided her next words. “Sometimes my placing pressure on an area of the body will release the illness.”

“Truly?”
Hope lit the mother’s eyes and Cristiana’s unease faded.

If she had a child, she’d be leery of a stranger touching him or her. She pushed away the thought, for she was certain a child was not in her future.

“The repairs on the cart seem to be coming along. I wonder what they’re doing with that rope.”

A
s Cristiana hoped, the woman turned to look at the men, giving Cristiana the opportunity she needed. She quickly drew a breath and focused. Placing her hands on his chest, she pushed her thoughts into the center of the heat.

The woman spoke to her, but Cristiana had no idea what she said. She kept all her focus on the heat. The illness had a strong hold, so
she tried to push it out with no success. Well aware she had little time before the concerned mother interrupted her, she inhaled, drawing in the sickness. The depth of it had her slowing the process, not wanting to pull it in too quickly for fear she wouldn’t be able to bear it.

She tried
the process again, this time with more determination. At last it released, coming more easily as it flowed into her, weakening her body.

“Are you well, my lady?”

“I am.” Cristiana attempted a reassuring smile as she breathed through the pain and heat. She said a brief prayer to thank God for the gift he’d given her to help people like this little boy.

“My lady, you’ve gone pale. Are you
certain you’re all right?”

Cristiana closed her eyes, her hands still on the boy’s chest. Already she could feel his body cooling as the fever left. That helped to steady her as she
sank to the ground. Exhaustion took hold and she fought to open her eyes. She had no desire to cause a scene by fainting.

“Is all well
, Cristiana?” William’s deep voice whispered in her ear, reverberating through her weariness.

He knelt beside
her and pulled her into his arms, steadying her and lending her his strength. She opened her eyes and gazed into his. The green ring in the brown depths was familiar and so welcome. How could it be that his presence gave her such comfort and strength?

“
Indeed it is,” she answered weakly, attempting a smile through the lingering pain. A glance at the boy showed him stirring, his lashes fluttering.

“
Aldwin?” his mother asked, hope lighting her expression.

“What
—what happened?” the boy asked. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands then sat up.

“You’ve been so sick,”
his mother answered as she gathered him into her arms.

“I feel better now,” he said. His gaze caught on Cristiana and William. “Who are you?”

“We were passing by and stopped to help your father fix the cart,” William said.

“Did it break?” He glanced around and
spotted the cart. “I don’t remember it breaking.”

Cristiana said n
othing, waiting to see what he remembered. Sometimes the person she assisted thought nothing of their recovery, especially small children.

“Did you help me feel better?” he asked Cristiana.

“Aye, she did,” his mother said. “Can you thank her for it?”

“
I was feeling poorly. Thank you ever so much.” He rose and stretched, still pale but obviously well on his way to a full recovery. “I’m hungry, Mama.”

“We’ll get you something to eat soon.”

“We’ve some dried meat we’d be pleased to share,” William said.

“You’ve already aided us more than we could have hoped,” the woman said. “We can’t take anything more from you.”

“I insist.” He called to the man-at-arms to bring some from his saddle bag.

The boy’s eyes grew wide at the sight of the food. Cristiana couldn’t help but admire William’s generosity. Time and again, he’d acted with honor. How was she to resist caring for a man such as
he?

The woman gave some of the meat to the boy and thanked William again as she rose to put the rest in
a bag. The boy chewed eagerly as he walked to his father’s side to investigate the progress on the cart.

“
Aldwin!” The father hugged his young son, obviously thrilled with his recovery. “Are you feeling better?”

The moment was sweet to
witness, once again making Cristiana grateful for the gift she’d been given.

“I don’t understand
. He was so sick,” the mother said when she returned to sit beside them. She turned to look at Cristiana. “What did you do?”

Cristiana felt William tense beside her and wonder
ed for what he prepared. Did he think the woman would attack her? Accuse her of being a witch? Or hug her in gratitude? She’d experienced all three and the shades in between. She wasn’t about to tell her the truth and soon the how of it wouldn’t matter.

“As I mentioned,
” Cristiana said, “sometimes pressing gently on different points on the body can release the illness.”

The dusty-faced woman’s eyes narrowed. Cristiana waited, wonderin
g what reaction she’d face this time.

“Can you teach
me in case it happens again?”

Cristiana felt William relax and heard his
quiet sigh of relief. “Unfortunately, we must be on our way,” he told the woman. “We have repaired the axle temporarily. It should get you to Longsbury at least.”

William assisted her to her horse and helped her mount.
Tired but pleased with the boy’s recovery, Cristiana let William bid them goodbye while she waited on her horse.

Aldwin
ran over to her, his hand behind his back. “I’ve got something to thank you for making me feel better.”

Cristiana smiled as he presented her with a
perfectly formed red maple leaf. “It’s beautiful, Aldwin. Thank you. I will treasure it.”

His large brown eyes studied her for a long moment. “I thought I might die but I didn’t want to tell my mama. It would’ve worried her too much
. She has enough to worry about. Thank you for saving me.”

His words brought tears to her eyes.
She didn’t bother to brush away his comment, for as deep as the illness had held him, he might very well be right. “You are very welcome, Aldwin. I’m happy you’re feeling better.”

“Maybe someday I can
help you. Good day, my lady!” Before she could respond, he hurried back to his mother and father, leaving the memory of his bright smile with Cristiana as they continued their trek.

She gently
rubbed the colorful leaf in her hand, realizing she’d gathered another precious memory.

***

William went through the motions of seeing their small camp settled. He could hear Henry speaking to Sister Mawde, explaining why they weren’t staying at an inn again. A small niggle of guilt tugged at William, but he quickly shoved it away.

They probably could’ve
sought shelter for the night, but it made things more difficult in many ways. Plus Cristiana was so tired, he was surprised she’d made it this far. The inn was a good distance away from here. That eased his guilt considerably. Never mind that he looked forward to sleeping beside her one last night. On the morrow, they’d arrive at Longsbury.

Darkness fell quickly but Henry built a fire which chased away the shadows. He could only hope the man-at-arms who was so adept at hunting came back with something substantial for supper. Cristiana could use a good meal after healing the boy
, plus it would calm the grumblings from Sister Mawde.