by Lynsay Sands
"Why such long faces, my lords? Surely this is a grand day, what with the stables finally being done and all."
Aric turned at that cheerful voice to find that Rosamunde had returned. She had changed into a green gown that looked quite lovely on her, and Black was trailing behind her as she entered the new stables.
"See, Blackie. I told you they were lovely. You shall be nice and warm and dry here."
She pressed her face to the horse's head, rubbing under his neck as she spoke, and Black, Aric saw with irritation, was acting like a lovestruck teenager, nickering and pressing his face against hers in a most affectionate manner. It was then that Aric realized, with some disgust and regret, that she had ruined his warhorse. This was not the wild animal who bit viciously at opponents' steeds and trampled fallen warriors beneath his powerful hooves. This beast would be good for naught but parades from now on. She had tamed him.
"Come along. You may have your choice of stalls," she told the beautiful animal, patting him on the back. "Which one would you like?"
Aric exchanged wry glances with Shambley at that, thinking the horse would hardly understand what she was saying, and probably cared less where he slept. But they were both proven wrong. The animal walked slowly among the stalls, glancing from side to side as if inspecting them, then stopped before the one farthest from the door. He walked sedately inside the open stall.
"A brilliant choice, Blackie," Rosamunde told the horse with a grin, moving up the aisle now herself to the stall he stood in. "You shall be far from the door. Less drafty in the winter and cooler in summer. And you shall have only the one neighbor, which shall be less troublesome, I should think. And I believe it shall be Marigold."
Aric shook his head in despair as she settled his mount in the stall, then waited impatiently until she stepped out and closed the stall door before calling her over.
"Wife."
"Aye, my lord?" Smiling, she hurried back to them, her gaze dropping curiously to the dog Jensen was urging forward. "Oh, hello, puppy."
Aric rolled his eyes as she bent to pet the dog. "He is hardly a puppy, wife. He weighs as much as you do."
"Mayhap, but he is still just a pup," she assured him, ruffling the matted fur with a frown. "Look at his feet. He has not grown into them yet. He cannot be quite a year old."
"She's right, my lord. He's just a year old this month. He still has a bit of growing to do," Jensen announced, drawing a frown from Aric that made him add quickly, "But he is well trained for all his youth."
"Hmmm," Aric muttered, then announced, "He is wounded."
"What?" Much to his satisfaction, Rosamunde showed concern at once, then frowned as she looked the dog over quickly. "Where?"
"Oh. The ear," Aric told her. Then, as she began to check, he continued, "'Tis a small wound, but these things can fester and..." Pausing when she appeared not to see the wound in question, Aric bent to point it out. "Right here."
"Why, 'tis barely a scratch and nearly healed," Rosamunde said with a laugh. "You had me worried there for a moment, my lord." Her gaze lifted to Jensen. "He will be fine. No need to worry."
Aric scowled at this announcement and turned to Shambley. His friend gave him a meaningful glance. Recalling the story Shambley had suggested he use, Aric sighed. "I had a dog as a child with a very similar wound that festered," he told her, then for good measure decided to add a few details of his own. "His ear rotted and fell right off."
Rosamunde's eyes widened. "Rotted and--"
"Fell right off." Aric gave a satisfied nod. "He was deaf, the poor, sad mutt." He gave a pitiful sigh, pleased to see he was affecting her. "We had to put him down." When her face colored at this news, he added quickly, "It was swift. We cut his head off."
"You killed a dog because he was deaf?" Rosamunde cried. Suddenly he realized that he had made an error.
"Well...nay. Not because he was deaf," he assured her quickly. "It was because the festering spread and he was dying slowly and painfully so we...Well, we cut off his rotting head." He shifted uncomfortably under her bemused stare, then frowned. "Anyway, I had a real affection for that dog--and this one reminds me of him, so I would not wish the same thing to happen. I would consider it a kindness to me on your behalf should you keep him close and watch over him so that something of a similar nature does not happen."
"Oh." Finally closing her mouth, Rosamunde peered down at the dog, then nodded slowly. "Well, surely, my lord. I shall tend to him for you."
"And keep him near you," Aric insisted. "So he does not fester and die while you are not looking."
"If you like. Certainly."
"Good. Well, then..." He nodded, glanced around, then sighed. "Well, then, I shall order some men to help you and Smithy start moving things over from the old stables."
Rosamunde watched him leave the barn, then shook her head and glanced at Shambley. "Cut off his rotting head?" she said quietly.
"Aye, well, he was most fond of that dog," Shambley assured her uncomfortably. "It was quite upsetting for him."
She looked skeptical. "Well..." Her gaze slid to Jensen, who was looking terribly amused. "What is his name?"
"His Lordship's?" the man asked with surprise, and Rosamunde rolled her eyes.
"Nay. The dog's name. What is it?"
"Oh." He shrugged. "I just call him Dog."
"Dog," Rosamunde muttered dryly. "I should have known."
Shambley glanced at her, curious. "You should have known?"
"Well, aye. Certainly. After all, Tomkins calls his bull Bull, and more often than not my husband calls me Wife. What else would Jensen call his dog but Dog?" Shaking her head, she took the rope the man had placed around the animal's neck and started to lead the animal away. "No imagination. That is what it is. Names seem to be beyond these people, are they not, Dog? Come along. I shall give you a bath and clean up your ear--just to be sure it does not fall off or anything silly like that. And once I have you clean and can see what you look like, mayhap we shall pick you a proper name like Rufus or Champ. Unless you are a female. Are you a female?" she asked the mutt as he traipsed along happily beside her. When he merely peered up at her, appearing to grin with his tongue hanging out of his mouth, she sighed.
"Well, I suppose I shall find out when I bathe you. It seems I was a bit premature in changing into a gown. Brais would definitely be more appropriate for bathing the likes of you."
Chapter Fourteen
"I will be only a moment, my lady. I just have to saddle Black for His Lordship; then I will accompany you down to check on Bull."
"Uh-huh," Rosamunde murmured, smiling sweetly until Smithy turned away to concentrate on Black again. As soon as his back was turned, she rolled her eyes and made a face at the horse. Lifting and lowering his head as if nodding in agreement, Black gave a soft whinny that made Rosamunde smile. It really did seem at times that the horse understood her thoughts, or at least her facial expressions. But then, he was a rather magnificent animal.
It had been nearly a week since the completion of the new stables. Black was recovered fully from his cold. His wound--really only a scratch--was almost completely healed as well, and the horse was starting to get restless from being stuck in his stall so long. Rosamunde had mentioned as much to Aric that morning, and he had apparently listened, for he had come down to the stables several moments ago and asked Smithy to saddle the horse for him. He had then glared at her slightly as he had noted Summer tied up outside the stable doors.
Summer was the name Rosamunde had settled on for the dog that had turned out to be a female. She had also turned out to be quite lovely underneath all that dirt and muck matting her fur. And she had become Rosamunde's devoted companion, following her everywhere throughout these past several days, usually without the necessity of the rope that Jensen had looped around her neck. But Rosamunde still utilized the rope when she was at the stables, to keep the pup outside. Summer had come inside with her the first day, but she had shown something of a herding instinct
, and had nipped at the heels of the horses as Smithy led them out. Which was dangerous with animals that were eight or nine times the dog's size and easily made nervous. Rosamunde had decided it was best to keep Summer tied up outside until the pup could be taught that horses were not sheep and should be respected.
Apparently Aric had not appreciated how far away from the door she had tied the pup, though, for he had moved the dog closer, affixing the rope near the open door of the stables, and leaving it loose so that Summer could enter if the necessity arose. He had explained rather gruffly while doing so that it was so that Rosamunde could keep an eye on its ear.
She didn't know who he thought he was fooling. Rosamunde knew Aric felt she needed a guard, though she had tried telling him that it was not necessary. She was positive the attack in their bedchamber had been some sort of mistake. The man Black had attacked must have thought the room empty and been looking to pilfer a jewel or two. After all, who would wish to harm her?
But Aric had not been convinced and had insisted she not be alone. First he had followed her about himself. Then he had set Smithy on her. The stablemaster had accompanied her everywhere in the few days before the stable had been finished. She had hoped that Aric would ease up on his protective behavior once she'd taken on Summer, but it seemed he was taking no chances, and Smithy was still under orders to keep track of her. The stablemaster acted as if he were attached to her at the hip, and frankly Rosamunde was sick to death of tripping over the man. Not that he wasn't nice and didn't try to be helpful, but really, Rosamunde simply wasn't used to having a shadow. Especially one who followed her to the privy and waited outside like an impatient nurse.
Which was why Rosamunde decided not to wait for Smithy this morning. Collecting the apples she had brought with her, she popped three of them into her pocket, kept the fourth one in hand, collected the sack containing her medicinals, and slipped silently out of the stables. Smithy would know where she had gone. He could catch up to her as he was able, she decided rebelliously.
Pausing outside, she bent to give Summer a pat and murmur a few words to her. She couldn't take the dog along this time. Summer's presence had made the bull nervous the last time she had gone down to check on his foot, and Bull had been even more cantankerous than usual. With that in mind, Rosamunde told the dog to stay, and headed out.
Tomkins was nowhere in sight when Rosamunde reached the paddock. She hesitated, considering going in search of the man, then decided against it. She didn't need his presence to tend the animal, and really this was just a checkup. The wound on the bull's leg had been nearly healed when last she saw him. This visit was just to be sure nothing had happened to reopen or infect it. She would look at Bull first. Then, she hoped, she would search out Tomkins to tell him all was well and she need not check on him again.
Walking to the fence, she smiled at Bull as he turned and eyed her with interest. His snout immediately lifted to sniff the air. No doubt he was aware of the scent of the apples she carried with her, she thought with amusement. The big brute really seemed quite taken with the succulent fruit. Thank goodness. Without them to bribe him, she did not know how she would have gotten the animal to allow her near him. Climbing onto the lowest slat of the wooden fence, she leaned slightly over the top, lifted the one apple she still held in her hand, and followed her usual routine. She waved the fruit from side to side, then held it out.
Bull took a step toward her across the paddock, then paused, lowering his head slightly. He gave her what she considered his mean look, and he blew air through his nose. Her eyes widening slightly, Rosamunde waved the apple again.
"What is the matter, Bull? Not interested in fruit anymore?" she asked gently, frowning when he actually pawed the ground and snorted. His head lowered still more until his horns were pointed in her general direction. Sighing in exasperation, Rosamunde climbed up to straddle the fence and swung her legs over, then paused to hold out the apple again. Far from appearing tempted, the beast seemed to grow more nervous and agitated. It wasn't unlike his behavior the other day, when Summer had accompanied her. Rosamunde had finally been forced to have Smithy take the dog around behind the small barn and out of sight before Bull would relax enough to approach her.
The snap of a twig behind her startled Rosamunde, and she nearly fell into the paddock. Catching herself, she started to turn to find the source of the sound.
"Where is Rosamunde?"
Smithy glanced up from the saddle he was cinching to peer at Aric blankly. Frowning as his question sank in, the man peered about the stables as if expecting to spot her. "Well...I am not sure," he admitted reluctantly, his frown deepening.
"What do you mean, you are not sure? You were supposed to keep an eye on her, damn it!"
"Aye, my lord, but...she was here just a moment ago." Leaving Black in his stall, Smithy stepped out, peering up and down the new stables.
"My lady?" he called hopefully, as if she might suddenly appear. When silence was his only answer, he bit his lip and admitted, "She was wanting to go down to check on that bull. I told her I would accompany her once I finished saddling Black for you." He scratched his head unhappily, then suddenly brightened. "Mayhap she went up to the keep to fetch some apples for the beast."
Aric sighed, relaxing a bit. He had felt the vague beginnings of dread seep into him. Concern and something akin to fear had seemed to be squeezing at his insides. Now the feelings eased, however, and he turned to move toward the stable doors. "You finish saddling Black. I shall go check and see if she is at the keep."
"See if who is at the keep, my lord?" Bishop Shrewsbury asked, having just caught Aric's words as he entered the building.
"My wife," Aric answered shortly, continuing past him.
"Oh, she is not there. I thought she was here."
Aric paused at that announcement and whirled sharply to face the man. "You are sure?"
"That she is not at the keep?" Bishop Shrewsbury asked with surprise. "Aye. I just came from there."
"Mayhap you just missed her," Smithy suggested hopefully. "She may have gone to the kitchens in search of apples for--"
"I believe I saw her taking apples with her when she left the keep this morning," Shrewsbury interrupted. "And I am quite positive that she did not enter or leave by the main doors since the nooning hour."
They were all silent for a moment as that sank in; then Smithy glanced toward the hook where Rosamunde usually hung her bag of medicinals. His shoulders slumped unhappily. "Her bag is gone," he admitted reluctantly. "She must have gone down to the paddock alone. I told her I would only be a moment, but mayhap she..." His voice trailed off as Aric suddenly whirled and hurried from the stables with the bishop on his heels.
"Well, hell," he muttered to himself, then closed Black's stall door and hurried anxiously after them. His neck was surely in a noose right now. He hadn't kept an eye on her as he was supposed to. If anything happened to Lady Rosamunde...Well, he didn't even want to think about that, he decided. He'd never seen anything before of which his lord was so protective.
Something was dragging across her back. No, she realized with some confusion as she opened her eyes and saw the clouds move overhead. Something was dragging her across the ground on her back.
"Rosamunde!"
"Aric?" she mumbled, recognizing his shout though it sounded a good distance away. Turning her head as she was tugged a couple more inches through the dirt, she peered at the blurry fence several feet away, watching as it grew a little more distant. Her vision wasn't the best at that moment, but she thought that it must be her husband racing down the path from the keep toward the paddock.
A snorting sound and a nudge at her hip made her turn her head slowly to the other side to see Bull nosing at her skirt. The beast pawed the edge of the garment a time or two, nudged at it with his nose until he found the shape of one of the apples she had brought for him, then closed his mouth carefully over it and her skirt. He pulled again. Backing up a step or two, he dragged her
along the ground another several inches before stopping and shaking his head in what was obviously bovine disgust. He had failed to free the apple from her pocket so that he could eat it.
"Rosamunde!" Aric's voice sounded much nearer now. She drew her head back around to see that he had reached the fence and was even now climbing frantically over it. Unfortunately, it also drew Bull's attention--and while the animal apparently didn't mind Rosamunde's presence, her husband hadn't been bribing the beast with apples for the last week. Blowing air through his nose in a warning snort, the bull pawed the ground a time or two and prepared to charge. And he probably would run right over her in his excitement, Rosamunde realized with dismay. She raised a hand in warning.
"Nay! Stop! Stay there, husband," she shouted. Well, she had meant to shout, but it had come out as a gasp. She wasn't feeling too strong at the moment.
Much to her relief, Aric seemed to recognize the danger he was putting her in and stilled, his hands clenching the fence post. "Are you all right? Can you get up?"
"Aye," she assured him, but she stayed where she was for another moment, aware of her husband's mounting frustration, but unable to do anything about it. She felt quite sick and winded and really didn't feel like getting up at all. Finally she forced herself to sit up, grimacing as the world seemed to tilt slightly around her. Once it slowed to a stop, she glanced toward the fence again. Aric's shouts had apparently been heard by others. Well, good Lord, he had been shouting as he ran--all the way down the small hill toward the paddock. They had probably even heard him in the keep, she thought as Smithy and Bishop Shrewsbury suddenly appeared, anxiety on both their faces.
"What happened?" the bishop asked in alarm.
"Is she all right?" Smithy gasped.
A snort from Bull drew Rosamunde's gaze back to the animal. He was glaring at the fence, looking ready to charge should anyone dare try to come over. Patting his nose, she murmured soothingly to him, then began to climb painfully to her feet. Her head was aching something fierce, throbbing behind her ear with a pain that radiated to her eyes and down her jaw. But that was not as bad as the way the world began to spin, everything moving this way and that as she regained her feet. She would have liked to sit back down for a moment, but knew that if she did not see herself out of there within the next few seconds, Aric would come in after her, Bull or no Bull. She really didn't feel up to patching him up just now, should the bull gore him, if he survived it.