Knights of Honor Books 1-10: A Medieval Romance Series Bundle

by Alexa Aston

  The physician nodded in approval. “Help me raise him. We’ll wrap the linen about Lord Hardwin, to protect the wound as much as his ribs.”

  Merryn assisted the doctor so that they moved Hardwin to a sitting position. Hobard held the nobleman upright while she wound the linen around his back and over his chest.

  “Good. A little tighter. That will do.”

  They eased Hardwin back onto the pillows.

  The doctor wiped his hands along his cotehardie. “I think he’ll remain unconscious for another hour or two. Once he awakens, I’ll question him to see if he knows who he is and what happened to him.”

  Merryn said, “Our stable boy suffered a similar injury to his head. Sephare would not let him sleep for more than a few hours at a time.”

  “I agree. Someone should awaken him at regular intervals to question him and see if his answers make sense.”

  “I will stay with him,” a deep voice called out.

  Merryn turned and saw that Geoffrey had slipped into the chamber. He crossed to the bed.

  “How is he?”

  Hobard shrugged. “A few broken ribs will irritate him for several weeks. I stitched his chest wound, which was not deep. He’ll want to scratch as it heals.”

  “And the head wound?” Geoffrey asked.

  “The skin did not break open, so I don’t believe it’s serious,” the physician replied. “Once he regains consciousness, he must be awakened periodically over the next day or two.”

  “Lady Merryn and I shall see to his care,” Geoffrey declared. “We will not leave his side.”

  Hobard gathered his things. “Then I shall leave the young earl in your capable hands and return to the king.”

  “The king!” Merryn exclaimed. “I had forgotten about him and the queen.”

  “The king never likes being around someone injured or ill,” Hobard told them. “He is superstitious about such matters. Since we are leaving in the morning, he will be eager to reach the next stop on the royal progress.”

  The door opened at that moment. It surprised Merryn when Edward entered the solar.

  “How is young Winterbourne?” the king asked, glancing at the bed and then back to the royal physician.

  Hobard filled the king in on the earl’s prognosis.

  “Good, good,” Edward said brusquely and then turned to Merryn.

  “We must move on, Lady Merryn, so you can care for your patient. I will have mine and the queen’s things packed so we can continue on our way. We shall leave within the hour.” He kissed her hand. “My thanks to you. Your hospitality and graciousness always make me feel as if I am in my own home.”

  Edward turned to Geoffrey. “I am happy we finally met, Lord Geoffrey. Though I didn’t have a chance to discuss matters with Winterbourne, I plan to in the near future once he is fully recovered. Rest assured, I will take care of it.”

  “Thank you, Sire.”

  “Hobard, I want you to stay at Kinwick for a few days with two of my guard. Watch over this young nobleman carefully. When he is on the road to recovery, you may join the summer progress again.”

  The king swiftly left the solar without a backward glance.

  *

  Merryn and Geoffrey stayed with Hardwin constantly, with Johamma and Hobard lending support.

  The first time Hardwin’s eyes opened, he groaned in pain.

  Merryn took his hand. “Be still, my lord. You were injured in the joust,” she explained. “You have some broken ribs and a chest wound from the lance.”

  Hardwin placed his hand on his chest and explored the stitches. Then he asked, “Could I have something to drink?”

  Pouring him a bit of weak ale, she held it to his parched lips. He drank all of it and touched his head.

  “My head aches,” he complained.

  “You hit it when you fell from your horse,” Geoffrey told him.

  The earl touched the back of his head gently. “I feel a large knot.”

  “Because you hurt your head, we need to test your memory.” Geoffrey asked the nobleman to name his wife and the title he held. He questioned where Hardwin lived and where Winterbourne was located.

  Satisfied with his responses, Merryn told Hardwin that he could rest. The earl drifted off to sleep immediately.

  They sat at Hardwin’s bedside, holding hands, no words between them. She knew Geoffrey was weighed down by guilt even though Hardwin’s injuries were not intentional.

  Merryn was uncomfortable that Symond Benedict was one of the two men the king had left behind. She didn’t mind Sir Alard’s presence since the knight was friendly and agreeable. But Symond Benedict never spoke to them. He stood near the doorway in the shadows, observing them at all times. She believed Geoffrey’s silence was due to Symond’s presence. Merryn was eager to learn what matter the king spoke of regarding Lord Hardwin and how her husband was involved. She squashed her curiosity and decided to wait until they had privacy before she brought up the matter.

  Hardwin continued to improve the remainder of the day. Each time they awakened him, he could answer their questions after a moment of thought. Hobard told them that was a good sign. By the second day, the earl ate some chicken broth and a bit of bread with Johamma’s assistance. His responses became clear and quick.

  “The earl will make a full recovery,” Hobard assured those gathered at the bedside as Hardwin lay sleeping. “He can return home in a day or two and allow his pretty wife to fuss over him.”

  Johamma blush at the physician’s comment.

  “I will leave in the morning and return to my duties with the king.” Hobard motioned Sir Alard forward. “Make plans for us to depart after we break our fast.”

  The knight nodded and exited the room.

  “Lady Johamma, you haven’t eaten much at all,” the physician admonished the young bride. “Why don’t you accompany me to the great hall so we can dine? You need your strength in order to nurse Lord Hardwin back to health.”

  “I will accompany you,” Geoffrey said. He looked at Merryn. “Once our guests are fed, I will bring up a tray for us. Will you stay with Lord Hardwin?”

  “Of course,” she replied. “Take your time.”

  As the others left the room, Merryn drew a chair close to the bed to sit next to the patient. She glanced at the burning candle beside her. She used it to measure when to awaken Hardwin.

  Since it was again time to do so, she leaned over and shook his shoulder gently.

  His eyes opened. “Ale,” he whispered.

  Merryn poured some of the watered-down ale from a carafe and helped him sit up to drink it. Some dribbled down his chin and he wiped it away with his sleeve. The gesture reminded her of Ancel and she smiled.

  Hardwin eased back into the pillows with a sigh. “So it is only you and me, my lady?” he asked.

  “Aye. Should I retrieve Johamma for you? Or the physician?”

  “Nay. I have a great need to speak with you. Only you.”

  His words puzzled Merryn. What could Hardwin want to discuss with her?

  He grimaced.

  “Do your ribs continue to ache?” she asked. “I can offer you a sleeping draught. Hobard said tonight you might finally have one.”

  “Nay.” He sighed. “What pains me more is my conscience. I must unburden it to you.”

  Merryn did not like where the conversation headed. “I’m no confessor, my lord. If you have need of a priest, I will happily fetch Father Dannet. He is the one who married you and Johamma a few days ago.”

  His hand snaked from under the bedcovers and latched on to her wrist. “You must hear my confession, my lady. For ’tis you who have been wronged by my family. I must do what I can to set matters right.”

  His strong fingers held on too tightly, but the look in his eye caused Merryn fear. She wondered if Hardwin had somehow been taken with a sudden fever and it was the delirium that spoke. Yet his fingers only felt warm against her skin. She placed her free hand upon his brow.

  “I ha
ve no fever, my lady. Just a burning guilt. I beg you to listen to my tale of woe. You innocently befriended my wife and me. You stood up for us with the king. You have nursed me back to good health these past few days. And I pray by the Blessed Christ that you will forgive me.”

  Merryn stared with curious wonder as Hardwin continued. “For what was done. To your husband.”

  Chapter 31

  Geoffrey settled Johamma and Hobard at a trestle table in the great hall. He signaled Tilda to bring them something to eat since the evening meal had come and gone and for a page to bring drink. The page poured them wine, while Tilda returned with enough to feed half a dozen men. He instructed her to prepare a tray that he could take up to privately sup with Merryn.

  Tension fell away as Geoffrey gave thanks to God Almighty that Hardie would make a full recovery. He wouldn’t have to carry the burden of guilt by being the cause of Hardie’s death.

  Geoffrey watched Johamma eating, knowing that the young countess almost had been like Merryn—a bride who’d spent only a single night with her bridegroom. Thank the Christ Hardie enabled Geoffrey to return to his wife. Merryn’s loving hand continued to help him each day find the man he had been.

  Tilda appeared with the tray. Geoffrey thanked the servant and bid good night to Hobard and Johamma. He promised to see Hobard off in the morning. Crossing the great hall, Alys stopped him, latching on to his leg and squeezing it tightly.

  He set the tray on a nearby table and picked the child up, swinging her high in the air. Geoffrey’s heart almost burst with love hearing his daughter’s squeal of delight. Being with his children helped him treasure simple moments such as this.

  Geoffrey brought Alys back to the ground. She kissed his cheek.

  “The king is gone, Father.”

  “Aye, he is. We have had a great many guests at Kinwick.” He laid a hand on her thin shoulder. “Would you like us to spend time together after we break our fast in the morning?”

  Her eyes lit up. “Oh, please, Father.”

  “What will we do together?”

  Alys thought a moment. “You could help me ride my pony. Gilbert has been teaching Ancel and me but you could help now.”

  “What else?”

  “We could pick flowers for Mother. She loves flowers.”

  Cupping Alys’ heart-shaped face in his hands, he said, “We’ll do both, my little love. Ride and pick flowers. I can’t think of a better way to spend my day.”

  The girl clapped her hands together in glee. “Just us, Father. No Ancel.”

  Geoffrey agreed as he reached for the tray. “I need to take this to your mother. She must be famished.” He dropped a kiss on his daughter’s head. “Good night, my sweet.”

  He watched Alys skip across the great hall. His eyes searched for Ancel and spied him swinging his toy sword, entertaining a group of his men. Geoffrey wished he could make things right with the boy. Merryn cautioned him it might take more time for Ancel to come around. Maybe he could tutor the boy in swordplay or take him hunting. Anything to bring them closer together.

  His eye caught Raynor’s. His cousin sat among the soldiers who watched Ancel’s antics. They nodded at one another. Geoffrey also hoped his relationship with Raynor would be repaired. They’d already made a good start. Geoffrey tried to push Raynor’s declaration of love for Merryn from his mind.

  Yet could he blame Raynor? Everyone—even the king of England—was a little in love with his wife. She was the most beautiful, desirable, intelligent woman in all the land.

  Thank the heavens she belonged to him.

  Geoffrey left the great hall and ascended the staircase, moving to the bedchambers on the second floor. The solar lay at the far end of the long corridor. He entered and placed the tray on a table. Lifting the carafe of wine, he poured out two cups before he fetched Merryn.

  A loud crash sounded from the bedchamber. Merryn stumbled from the room blindly, a look of horror upon her delicate features.

  She knew.

  His gut told him that Hardie had spoken of his father’s wrongdoing. It stunned Geoffrey. If Hardie had been on his deathbed, Geoffrey could see him spilling the ugly secret, not wanting to go to God with such a heavy burden on his conscience.

  Yet Hardie had pulled through. His injuries weren’t life-threatening. So why had he shared the sordid story with Merryn?

  Once again, Geoffrey felt a kinship with the young boy who’d kept him company all those years, the boy who’d secretly defied his father. Mayhap the young earl would be a more honorable man, after all. Peace washed over him, knowing that Merryn had learned the truth. The oath to Hardie, which had caused a rift in his marriage, had vanished. Geoffrey would never keep a secret from Merryn again.

  “Geoffrey!”

  Merryn threw herself into his arms, clinging to him as she sobbed uncontrollably. Holding her close, he whispered soothing nonsense in her ear, hoping she would draw strength and solace in his arms.

  Sweeping her up, Geoffrey carried her to the nearest chair. He sat and cradled her in his lap, brushing the tears from her cheeks.

  When she finally calmed, Merryn gazed into his eyes. He saw the concern for him and held his palm to her face, brushing a thumb slowly across her full, lower lip.

  “Hardwin told me everything.”

  Geoffrey nodded, not sure if words could come.

  “Then it’s true?”

  He sighed. “I am sure he told you the truth.”

  The familiar, stubborn look appeared in her eyes. “I want to hear it from you, Geoffrey. All of it. I want to know if he spoke falsely of anything.”

  “Need I repeat it, my love?”

  “Aye,” she whispered. “I must hear it from your lips.”

  Geoffrey gathered his courage. Since Hardie had confessed to Merryn, it freed him to speak to her plainly.

  Settling back into the chair, he drew her head down to his chest. He didn’t know if he could look at her as he spoke.

  “It’s a long story, my love.”

  “I don’t care. I need to hear it.”

  Geoffrey explained what he had observed that day in France. How he had taken his concerns to the Black Prince and his advisers. How Barrett denied the charges even though proof of his treason was produced for all to see. Geoffrey recalled their trial by battle and his victory, which signaled Barrett’s death.

  “The Duke of Lancaster arrived with his troops to reinforce those of the Black Prince just before Barrett’s execution.”

  Merryn stirred in his arms. “I know Lord Berold fought with Lancaster.”

  “He did. Berold witnessed his son’s beheading.” Geoffrey paused, his mouth gone dry.

  “Hardwin told me his father confronted you after his son’s death.”

  “I will never forget his words.” His recollection almost overcame him. “Berold told me he would bring me to my knees. That I would long for a death which he would keep from me.” Geoffrey shuddered, caught back in time. “I tried to brush it off as the mad words of a grieving father.”

  “But he acted upon them,” Merryn said, her voice devoid of emotion. “At the hunting lodge.”

  “Aye.”

  Geoffrey stroked her hair gently. He couldn’t relive the time of horror and wanted to bring their conversation to a conclusion.

  “One of the earl’s soldiers aimed the shot which pinned me to the tree. He and another of Berold’s men freed me after you left for help. They brought me to Winterbourne. After they placed me in the dungeons, Berold killed them with his own hand. He did not want anyone to know where I was.”

  “Except for Hardwin,” Merryn said dully. “And he was only a boy.”

  Geoffrey nodded against her. “The earl wanted me to suffer as he had. He called Hardie home from where the boy fostered and told him of the blood feud between our families. Berold said when he died, Hardie would continue holding me prisoner till my own death, feeding me only enough to exist. I was to live in solitude and never be addressed by name.”
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br />   Merryn sat up and faced him. “My God, Geoffrey! What a heinous act. How you must have suffered! I can’t begin to understand the evil in Lord Berold’s heart.”

  She broke away from him and stood. Pacing the room only increased her anger. Geoffrey knew better than to interrupt her. He would let the fury run its course.

  “The king must be told,” she demanded. “At once! And I want Winterbourne gone from under our roof. This instant!” A wild look appeared in her eye. “God in Heaven. Hardwin wanted our children to foster with him. Our children! By the Christ, I would never let my babes live under such wickedness. Never! I shall call in that favor he said he would gift me with. Ancel and Alys will never cross the threshold of Winterbourne. Ever, ever!”

  Geoffrey hated to see her so distressed. He rose and captured her in his arms.

  “Calm yourself, my love.”

  “I will not!” Her face flushed red with anger. “Hardwin allowed almost seven years of your life to be stolen from you. For years, we were torn apart. I did not know if you were alive or dead. Your children had no father. Nothing could ever replace that debt. Nothing Hardwin could ever do would make me forgive him.”

  Geoffrey shook her. “Merryn. Stop.”

  She whipped her head around and glared daggers at him.

  “Listen to me, my love. Please. I know you and the twins were wronged. I was, too.”

  Geoffrey drew her into the chair and knelt beside her. Merryn perched on the edge, looking as if she might bolt from it at any moment.

  “Berold committed these sins against us. Berold. Hardie was a boy. An innocent boy. Hardie defied his father. He wasn’t supposed to enter the dungeons again until the earl perished, then he was to take up the task of keeping me in that living death. He chose not do that.”

  Merryn frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Apparently, Hardie had not told her all of the truth. “Hardie braved visiting me several times a week without his father’s knowledge. Bringing me extra food and blankets. We had many talks over the years. If not for Hardie, I might have gone mad.”