by Lynsay Sands
Fortunately, since no one was awake and the guard was nowhere in sight, she didn't really have to worry about it. She just had to hurry before someone else awoke and spotted her. Avoiding traipsing through the men, lest she accidentally wake one, Rosamunde decided that the forest behind the tent would do well enough. She slipped around into the bushes.
Aric rolled onto his side, feeling around automatically for his wife, and waking slowly when she wasn't there. Blinking his eyes open, he stared at the blank spot beside him in the pile of furs and frowned. She had beaten him awake again, he realized with a sigh, and had to wonder if the day would ever come when he would awaken before her.
Most likely not, he admitted with a grimace, dragging himself from the comfort and warmth of the soft furs to find his clothes. It was a shame, really, for he had yet to teach her the pleasures of marital relations first thing in the morning. Thinking upon it now, he was really rather eager to do so. Which was part of the reason he found himself stomping around grouching at everyone like a bear with a burr in its paw these past few mornings. He usually awoke from erotic dreams with a hankering for making them come true, but it never failed that he awoke to a cold and empty bed, his wife already up and puttering about.
Sighing, he tugged his brais and tunic on. Reaching for his sword belt, he began to strap it on as he moved to the tent flap. Stepping out into the early morning chill, he peered around at the rest of his party, scowling at the fact that every last one of them save the sentry was still enjoying their slumber. He scanned the silent clearing they had chosen to camp in--this had been the first night of their travels to London--and the realization that his wife was nowhere in sight was slow to dawn on him. When it finally sank in, Aric felt as if he had been punched in the stomach.
"Rosamunde!" he shouted, starting forward. He paused to glance around the people stirring around the dead fire before rushing to Shambley. His friend was just starting to sit up.
"What is it?" the other man asked sleepily, rubbing at his eyes.
"Rosamunde is gone."
"Gone?" Robert was awake at once.
"She has probably just wandered off to tend to personal needs," Aric said, trying to reassure himself and ease the fear growing in the pit of his stomach. "Wake the men and start..." He waved vaguely toward the horses. "I am going to go look for her."
Nodding, Robert got to his feet as Aric hurried off into the woods in search of his wife.
"Oh, grand," Rosamunde muttered under her breath as her husband's shout reached her. Sighing, she quickly finished her business, muttering under her breath. She put her clothes back in order and began to make her way back toward the campsite, but didn't rush. Why bother? She was already in trouble. Aric would not be pleased with her. Why hurry back to be lectured and yelled at like a recalcitrant child?
"Rosamunde!" Robert rushed to her side the moment she came around the tent. "Where were you? Aric woke up and saw you gone and--"
"Where is he?" Rosamunde interrupted with a sigh. Shambley grimaced.
"He went in search of you. Toward the river, I think."
Nodding, Rosamunde started across the clearing, weaving her way around the men who were stumbling sleepily about as they now set to their morning chores.
"Wait, I shall accompany you." Shambley hurried after her.
"Aye, aye, I know. I am not to leave the clearing without accompaniment," she snapped. "A body cannot even enjoy a moment's peace with you men fretting over her. You really need not follow me this time, however. I am sure Aric will protect me well enough once I find him."
"Actually, I thought to protect you from his temper," Robert responded, drawing a smile from her as she stepped onto the path leading to the river. It wasn't very far from the clearing, just a five-minute walk. Which was why Aric had chosen the clearing for their campsite.
The two were silent as they walked, which turned out to be for the best. Had they been talking, they most likely would have missed the broken shout from ahead.
"Aric?" Rosamunde called, pausing on the path. Silence was her answer. Even the morning sounds that she hadn't really been paying attention to were suddenly absent. There were no birds chirping or bugs buzzing, and the ever-present rustle of undergrowth being disturbed by small animals had come to a halt as well. It was too quiet, as if the forest itself were suddenly holding its breath. The hair prickling the back of her neck, Rosamunde broke into a run. "Aric!"
Aware that Shambley was right behind her, she crashed through the woods, stumbling to a halt when she reached a much smaller clearing at the water's edge. Her gaze shot frantically around in search of her husband. When she didn't see him right away, she started to turn back, thinking he must be in the woods somewhere. Perhaps they had charged right past him. But then she glimpsed something in the water and froze, her head turned, her eyes narrowing on the object, then widening in horror as she realized that it was a body floating facedown in the water. Aric.
Crying out, she rushed forward, charging into the water up to her waist before she was able to reach his foot. Grabbing it, she gave it a tug, drawing him backward until she could grasp his shoulder. She had just managed to turn him in the water, crying out at the pale gray tinge to his skin, when Robert caught up. Her alarmed gaze flying to her husband's friend, Rosamunde saw him pale slightly; then his expression firmed. Robert slid his arms under Aric.
"Come on. We have to get him out of the water," he said shortly. Hefting his friend in his arms, Robert turned back toward shore. Rosamunde followed him as quickly as she could, her wet skirts hampering her, her heart tight and painful with fear and worry. When she reached shore, Shambley had already set the other man down and was slapping his face.
"Water." Rosamunde gasped, struggling to his side. Robert peered up at her with confusion. "He will be full of water," she explained, recalling a tale Eustice had told her once about a friend of hers who had nearly drowned. "We must get it out."
"How?"
Rosamunde peered at him helplessly. Eustice had said that the girl's father had picked the child up by her feet and shaken her. They could hardly do that to Aric...or could they? Her mouth firming, she straightened determinedly. "Grab his feet."
"His feet?" Robert asked with bewilderment.
"Just do it, damn it!"
His eyes widening at the first curse he had ever heard her use, Shambley shifted to Aric's feet and peered at her questioningly.
"You have to pick him up by his feet and hang him upside down."
"What?" He was gaping at her as if he thought her mad, and Rosamunde glared at him furiously.
"Do as I say. We have to get the water out."
Shaking his head, Robert hesitated, then grabbed Aric's feet. He lifted them into the air, then knelt to grab him around the knees.
"Wait," Rosamunde cried as he started to lift him. "The other way."
"What other way?"
"From the front," she said impatiently. "I must pound his back while you hold him up."
Muttering a curse--a much more foul one--himself, he straightened. Then, and still holding Aric's legs, Robert moved around until he straddled his waist. Dropping to his haunches again, he grasped Aric around the thighs and straightened, lifting him until the man hung with his head just brushing the ground.
"Good." Rosamunde sighed, moving forward to start patting his back.
"It does not appear to be working," Robert muttered after a moment.
Rosamunde peered down at Aric's head worriedly, biting her lip before suggesting, "Mayhap if you jostled him a bit...?"
"Jostle him?" he asked doubtfully.
"Aye. Shake him up and down."
"I do not think--"
"Do you know a better way?" Rosamunde snapped. She continued to pat Aric's back.
"Fine. I shall jostle him," Robert agreed between his teeth, but seemed for a moment to be at a loss as to how to do that. Just when Rosamunde was about to snap at the man again, he suddenly began to bounce Aric up and down and from sid
e to side.
The first thing Aric became aware of was pain.
It was coming from two separate sources. Or it seemed to him to be, at least. One source was his back, where a burning pain was spreading from where someone repeatedly punched him. The second source was his head. Someone seemed to be bashing him repeatedly there. And there were tight bands around his thighs. He felt a roiling sensation in his stomach, moving its way inexorably up his throat, and out his open mouth. When water immediately splattered all over his face and up his nose, Aric sputtered and tried to open his eyes, only to find that the world had turned upside down.
Nay. He was upside down, he realized, peering blankly at the feet on either side of his head. And he was being shaken and dipped about, his head smashing into the ground repeatedly. Grabbing weakly at the feet in front of him, he tried to speak, and found another wave of watery goo splashing out of his mouth and across his face, forcing his eyes closed.
"It is working! He spit up the water! Oh, I think he is awake! Set him down."
Aric sighed at the sound of that voice. Who else could it be but his wife behind this madness and agony? This thought flitted through his mind just before his head hit the ground a final time. His neck nearly snapped as his body followed.
"Aric? Husband!" She was slapping his face now, anxiety clear in her voice.
"Are you trying to kill me?" He had meant to bellow those words, but instead they came out in a faint whisper. He blinked his eyes open. Still, it had the desired effect, he supposed. His wife sat back slightly, giving him room to breathe. She peered at him with wounded puppy-dog eyes.
"Kill you?" she said in horrified amazement. "Why, we saved you, husband! You nearly drowned and we saved you." She looked toward the man standing beside her as if for confirmation, and Aric followed her gaze to see Shambley. His friend made an odd face and hunkered down to peer at him.
"Which part was supposed to save me, pray tell?" Aric asked, lifting his head slightly to glare at the two of them. "Beating my back, or the slamming my head into the dirt?"
"Both," Rosamunde snapped, lifting the edge of her gown to begin wiping at his face. "You were full of water and we had to get it out."
"And the pounding of my head was for...."
"Oh, do stop fussing." Rosamunde sighed irritably, cleaning his face as if he were a child. "It worked, did it not? You spit up the water and are breathing again. It is not our fault you are so big. We did the best we could under the circumstances. Mayhap we should have left you drowned. You were a bit quieter, and much more pleasant that way."
"She is right, Aric. You were drowned. I did not think we would revive you even with the shaking and pounding, but it worked."
Mouth twisting, Aric sighed and stopped grumbling. It was hard to argue with any efficacy when the proof of her words was up his nose and all over his face. Sighing, he let his head drop back to the ground, his eyes closing wearily.
"What happened? How did you end up in the water?"
Aric's eyes popped open again at that question, a frown tugging at his mouth. "Someone hit me from behind," he remembered slowly, then glared at his wife. "I was looking for you and came down here to see if this was not where you had run off to and...someone hit me from behind. It is the last thing I remember. They must have thrown me in the water."
"Did you see who it was?" Shambley asked with concern. Aric scowled at him.
"Did I not just say that he hit me from behind? How am I supposed to have seen who it was? I do not have eyes back there, you know."
"Oh, aye, of course." Shambley exchanged a glance with Rosamunde that made Aric even more irritable. It was as if they were sharing a thought. He didn't want them sharing a thought. He did not want them sharing anything.
"Did you see anyone?" he snapped.
"Nay," they answered in unison, and he grimaced, then shifted in an effort to raise himself to a sitting position. He failed miserably as Rosamunde put a hand lightly to his shoulder, keeping him down.
"Just rest there for a moment, husband. You should not try to get up too quickly."
Making a face meant to express that he was lying back only to appease her and not because he felt weak as a baby, Aric reclined in the grass again with a sigh. "Where are the men?"
"Back at the campsite, preparing to leave, no doubt," Shambley answered, concern obvious in his eyes as he looked his friend over. "Mayhap I should tell them we will not be leaving for a while."
"Why? I am fine. Just give me a moment to regain my breath and we can go," he announced, hoping that it was so, and was irritated all over again when the two shared another glance.
"Surely you are fine, husband," Rosamunde murmured. "But doubtless you will wish to clean up after your trauma and refresh yourself. Then, too, we must discuss this latest occurrence and what it means."
Aric's gaze narrowed on her suspiciously. "What mean you by that?"
"Well..." She looked vaguely surprised. "It would seem to me that this makes it doubtful that I need watching. 'Tis you someone is after."
"What?" This time he did manage to get a little volume behind his words, and Rosamunde winced slightly, then sighed.
"Aye. Well, we must think on this reasonably, my lord. The man in the bedchamber, for instance--"
"He was coming after you," Aric interrupted. "You were the only one in the room."
"Aye," she agreed soothingly. "But 'twas our bedchamber, and mayhap he did not realize that you were not there."
Aric blinked at those words, seeing that it was at least possible. But then he shook his head. "Nay. What about the incident with Bull?"
"Hmmm." Grimacing slightly, she scratched the back of her head. "That is all still rather fuzzy in my head, my lord. I mean, I may have simply miscalculated and tumbled off the fence. I remember hearing a sound behind me, but..." She shrugged. "I do not recall getting hit or pushed.... I may simply have fallen, and you all merely jumped to conclusions because of the previous incident."
While his eyes widened incredulously at that possibility, Robert joined the conversation. "But what about the stables?"
Rosamunde turned a frown on the man. "How do you know about that?"
"Aric told me."
"How much did he tell you?" Rosamunde asked with a scowl that did nothing to hide the flush flowering over her cheeks as she recalled that someone had most likely seen her and her husband at a most intimate moment. Several moments of intimacy, actually.
"He said someone had thrown a bale of hay out of the loft at you," Robert murmured, his gaze moving curiously between the two of them.
"Oh..." Clearing her throat, Rosamunde tried to forget the rest of their time in the stables and brushed her hair self-consciously behind her ear. "I do not think it was thrown at me. I mean, what end would that achieve? It would have knocked me down, but really..." She rolled her eyes. "What would that have done except make me cry out and bring Smithy running? Whoever it was would have been discovered right away. Nay." She shook her head. "I suspect someone had just chosen the loft as a nice, comfy place to shirk their chores, then accidentally knocked one of the bales over. They slipped from the loft while Aric and I were...umm...deep in discussion."
"Discussion, eh?" Aric said, grinning at her obvious discomfort. "I had a discussion I wished to have with you when I woke up this morning, but as usual you had awakened early and sneaked off." His grin dissipated, replaced by displeasure as he recalled the purpose behind his being at the river's edge in the first place.
He was about to begin reprimanding her when Shambley suddenly murmured, "She may be right."
"Right?" Scowling, Aric turned to his friend. "Right about what?"
"Mayhap it is you who are in danger."
"What?" Aric peered at him in disbelief.
"Well, that hayloft incident could have been an accident. The bale would hardly have killed her, or even done her much damage. All it would have done was draw Smithy into the stables. And if no one pushed her off that fence, throwing he
r in with Bull--"
"Who would not have hurt me anyway," Rosamunde added. She refused to acknowledge that even she was not sure if, had she not had apples hidden in her pocket, he might have trampled her beneath his powerful hooves without a second thought.
"Aye. So that just leaves the incident in the bedchamber and this incident here as true attacks. And the former is where both of you sleep; the attacker could have thought you were in the room and really have been after you. But this morning's little incident..." He shook his head. "There is no way anyone could have mistaken you for Rosamunde. This was an out-and-out attack on you."
They were all silent for a moment as his words sank in, then Rosamunde reached out to pat Aric's stunned cheek. "Never fear, husband. We shall keep you safe. We shall not leave you alone for a moment. You shall have a guard at all times."
"Oh, this is stuff and nonsense," Aric snapped, struggling to a sitting position. He managed to climb to his feet, where he swayed slightly. Reaching out for something to hold on to, he found only Rosamunde hitching herself beneath his arm to help keep him upright.
"Why do you not go back and tend the men?" she suggested now to Shambley. "Inform them that, in the future, my husband must not be left on his own. I shall help him bathe, then accompany him back to camp."
"What about a guard?"
"Oh, I shall attend to that," she assured Robert breezily. "I have his sword if I need it, and will keep him safe."
Too busy trying to keep his stomach's contents where they belonged, all Aric could do was roll his eyes. Shambley nodded and turned to leave.
"Mayhap you could bring some fresh clothes back when you have a moment, my lord?" Rosamunde called after him.
"For both of you," Robert agreed just before disappearing into the woods.
"Well," Rosamunde said cheerfully as soon as he was gone. "Shall we get you out of these clothes so you may bathe?"
"I do not wish to bathe," Aric muttered grumpily as she turned him toward the water.
"Well, I fear there is not much choice in the matter, my lord," she announced with a combination of forced cheer and determination. She propelled him forward. "You have spit up all over yourself."