Perhaps Daveigh was right.
The High Warrior needed to regain his form.
“Very well,” he said after a moment. “If you believe that is best, then I will go.”
Daveigh was relieved that he wasn’t going to have a fight on his hands. He went to Bric and put his hand on the man’s shoulder.
“I respect you more for agreeing to go,” he said. “Had you fought me on this, I would have believed you to be in denial that there may be a problem. But I truly do not believe there is any shame in this, Bric. My father went through it. Many men go through it. I know there is talk of a weak heart or of dishonorable behavior when something like this occurs, but I do not believe it is either. A man’s mind is a vast and mysterious thing, and there are times when even the best of us must deal with something we cannot control.”
Bric appreciated that Daveigh was being understanding over something that Bric didn’t even understand himself. What he felt wasn’t something he could put into words.
“Mayhap I can use some time away,” he finally said. “In truth, before all of this happened, I was going to ask you if you could station me at Roxham or Wissington so that Eiselle could have her own home. Here, she is one of Keeva’s women, but at one of the lesser castles, she could run it how she saw fit.”
Daveigh nodded. “Every woman wants her own home,” he said, trying to make it seem like it was a good thing for Bric to leave Narborough. “Go to Bedingfeld for a time and if you like it, you can remain there. If not, I will move you to one of the other castles. Go where you like, Bric. You may choose.”
This way, it wasn’t like Daveigh was sending Bric away for his mental health. It was more a mutual decision, so Bric could heal completely and get control of his nerves, and Bric appreciated that.
It left him his dignity.
In truth, he felt better than he had in weeks. He felt there was hope for him to return to the man he once was. He had no idea what was happening to him and an understanding liege helped tremendously. With time away, he could sort himself out and deal with whatever was happening. But just as he and Daveigh were heading towards the table where the maps were, so they could take a look at all of the de Winter properties where Bric and Eiselle could go, Mylo suddenly appeared in the doorway.
“My lord,” he said, somewhat breathlessly, as he had run all the way from the main gatehouse. “We have a rider from Castle Acre. The French have amassed and are attacking both the town and castle. De Warenne begs us for help, my lord.”
It was unwelcome news, but not entirely surprising. Daveigh looked at Bric, who had a stony expression on his face. In fact, it was unreadable, like a marble statue. It was the face of a man who had confronted war many times, a man who knew his duty no matter how he personally felt. As of this moment, Bric MacRohan was still in command of the de Winter army and Bric’s gaze lingered on Daveigh for a moment longer before turning to Mylo.
“You and Pearce shall muster the army,” he said. “And we will bring the new recruits. There is no better time for them to gain experience than in an actual battle, so make sure they are mustered. I will join you shortly.”
Mylo nodded and fled. Bric began to follow, moving swiftly, but a word from Daveigh stopped him.
“Bric,” he said quietly, firmly. “You do not have to…”
Bric cut him off. “There is a war to fight, my lord, and the de Winter army has been summoned,” he said, turning to look at him. “Unless you tell me I am no longer in command of the army, then my place is at its head. Am I still in command?”
As Daveigh looked at him, it seemed like the old Bric to him – immovable, fearless, ruthless. Sending the man into battle, given how his manner had been over the past several weeks, was against his better judgment, but Daveigh couldn’t in good conscience hold him back. Bric was a knight; he had been for most of his life.
He needed to do what he did best, or die trying.
“Aye,” Daveigh said. “You are still in command.”
Bric’s gaze lingered on him a moment before heading out of the solar, following Mylo’s trail out of the keep.
When he was gone, Daveigh stood there a moment, wondering if he’d made the right decision. He was still standing there when Keeva entered the chamber, her eyes wide with concern.
“What’s it all about, Daveigh?” she asked. “Why are Mylo and Bric running?”
Daveigh didn’t even know where to start. He didn’t want to tell Keeva about Bric’s mental state, fearful that she wouldn’t understand. Keeva was a wonderful woman, and he loved her dearly, but she didn’t quite understand what fighting men went through. She’d never faced a battle herself; not even a siege. Therefore, he wasn’t going to tell her about Bric because he didn’t want her scolding the man for being a weakling. There were some things that Daveigh was apt to keep to himself.
“A rider from Castle Acre,” he said. “Sounds as if the French are going after the town and de Warenne has asked for help. I’m off to see the messenger myself to find out what is going on; meanwhile, Bric and Mylo are mustering the army. Can you please keep the women and children inside the keep? The last thing we need is Eiselle wandering into the outer bailey or, worse, that little beast Eddie running amok while men are being assembled.”
Keeva nodded swiftly; she knew what needed to be done, as she’d been through this procedure many times. “I will,” she said. “Is that all you need me to do?”
“That is all, love. I will return when I know more.”
Quickly, he quit the keep, heading out into an outer bailey that was starting to roll with the chaos of men, driven by a big Irish knight with a voice that carried across mountains.
A big Irish knight who would soon be facing the challenge of his life.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The multitude of torches that lit up the night sky was an eerie sight. There was something uneasy about the brilliant fire that fought off the night, a night so black that it was as if looking into the face of Satan.
At least, that’s what Eiselle thought as she stood at the gatehouse leading from the inner bailey into the outer bailey, watching the army as it prepared to move out.
There was something uneasy about this entire night.
Earlier, she’d been sewing on one of Bric’s tunics in their chamber when Keeva had come to tell her about the call for help from Castle Acre, sixteen miles to the east. It belonged to the powerful Earls of Surrey, the de Warenne family, and it was a mighty and strategic castle with property that butted up against the de Winter lands. De Winter and de Warenne were close allies, so there was never any question about answering the summons.
De Winter would answer the call.
At first, Eiselle had been understandably concerned for Bric. After what had happened earlier that day, she was worried that he was heading into battle and wasn’t yet ready for such a thing. But she didn’t share that concern with Keeva, instead keeping it to herself, and following an afternoon of sewing on her husband’s tunics, she could no longer keep her focus. As night fell, she wandered out of the keep and right to the mouth of the outer bailey, watching the activity and hoping for a glimpse of her husband.
Everything seemed business as usual. She remembered how the army was methodically mustered from the first time she had witnessed it, when they were departing for Holdingham. Wagons were brought out, horses were groomed and saddled, and the quartermasters were thorough in the supplies they brought with them. Everything was moving smoothly and, in the middle of it, she could hear Bric’s voice, bellowing to the men, as Mylo and Pearce made sure the new recruits were properly outfitted for the coming battle march.
As she caught a sighting of Bric now and again as he moved in and out of the herd of men, she could also see Manducor out in the organized chaos. He seemed to be helping, too, mostly with the infantry, and Eiselle was coming to think that the man might never return to his church.
The drunk, smelly priest had transformed over the past several weeks; he didn�
��t drink as much, although he still ate to excess and farted when he pleased, and he spent more time with Weetley, the surgeon, helping the man with his patients, and generally finding other things to do. Whether or not he’d been invited to stay, he was finding a place for himself at Narborough.
It seemed to Eiselle that the man had reclaimed something in himself – perhaps it was self-worth, or a sense of purpose. It was difficult to know. All she knew was that Daveigh permitted him to stay as long as he made himself useful. Perhaps he simply felt more at home at Narborough than he did serving his parish. Whatever the reason, Manducor was starting to become a fixture at Narborough and Eiselle wasn’t displeased. He had a wisdom about him that she found comforting. Oddly enough, the man was coming to be something of a friend.
So, Eiselle stood and watched as the men went about their duties, feeling the chill as the night began to deepen. As she stood there and watched, she began to hear voices behind her and turned to the keep in time to see Mylo emerge from the entry with Angela in tow, carrying a wailing Edward.
“But he just wants to be with you!” Angela was saying as she virtually ran after her husband. “He wants to see the soldiers and the army. If he is to be a knight like his father, what is the harm of you taking him with you as you go about your duties?”
Mylo was beyond frustrated. He came to a halt and turned to his wife. “I have explained this to you several times, so I will do it once more and let this be the end of it,” he said. “It is too dangerous for him out there with the army and I do not have time to watch him. Moreover, it is late and he should be in bed.”
Angela frowned. “I think you are being very cruel to your son.”
Mylo had no patience for her. “He is too young, Angela. When he is older, mayhap I will take him with me, but right now, he is far too young. He would want to get down and run, and if he does that, he will be killed. Someone will run him over and it would be all your fault.”
Angela gasped, offended by his words. Although Eiselle was genuinely not trying to listen to their argument, it was difficult because they were standing so close to her. When Angela realized Eiselle was listening, she quickly turned back for the keep with the crying baby in her arms. As she ran off, Mylo resumed his walk towards the outer bailey and caught sight of Eiselle as he did so. He smiled weakly.
“She wants me to take the baby with me,” he said. “It is not safe.”
Eiselle nodded. “I agree with you,” she said. “But when he is older, then you must take him with you so that he may learn from you.”
Mylo shrugged. “I hope he will outgrow this screaming he does,” he said. “I hope I can undo the damage that his mother has done.”
Eiselle smiled. “He is young, still. I am sure he will outgrow his tantrums.”
Mylo gave her a nod that suggested it might be possible. “Mayhap,” he said. “Now, if you will excuse me, Lady MacRohan, I have duties to attend to or your husband will have my hide.”
Eiselle waved him off, watching him head out into the group of men who were now starting to form loose ranks as the knights whipped them into shape. It seemed to her that they were preparing to move out soon and the worry she felt for her husband began to increase. She’d been fighting it off all day, but now that their departure was approaching, it was coming on with a vengeance. Her nervous stomach, something she’d hardly suffered from since her arrival to Narborough, was beginning to make itself known and she could already feel the gas bubbles popping up, reminding her of her worrisome spirit.
Worried, indeed, for Bric.
But she remained at the smaller gatehouse, vigilantly watching the army and ignoring both the chill of the evening and her upset stomach. She stood there as the sun set, and the air turned damp and cold, still watching everything, still seeing Bric on occasion. She was starting to live for those glimpses, seeing flashes of the man she was so deeply in love with. It was the only thing she cared about. As she stood there, shivering in the darkness, someone came up behind her and put a heavy shawl over her shoulders.
“I thought you might need this,” Keeva said, smiling at Eiselle when the woman looked at her in surprise. “It is a cold night.”
Eiselle pulled the shawl tight. “It is,” she said. “Thank you for the wrap. I can feel the dampness in the air.”
Keeva, who was warmly dressed against the night, glanced up at the sky. “There is always dampness in the air because of our closeness to the river,” she said. “Even in the summer, we will have misty mornings over the land. I have a feeling we may see a misty morning tomorrow.”
Eiselle’s gaze was on the army. “But they will move out regardless of the mist, won’t they?”
Keeva nodded. “They will move out no matter what the weather is like.”
So much for hoping that fog would delay the army and, consequently, Bric’s departure. Eiselle tried not to appear too disappointed about it.
“I do not know how you have become accustomed to this,” she said after a moment. “Your husband leaves for battle and yet you appear so calm. I wonder if I shall ever feel so calm.”
Keeva put her hand on Eiselle’s arm. “I may appear calm, but the truth is that I am just as anxious as you are,” she said. “Daveigh is all I have. If he does not return, I do not know what I shall do or where I shall go.”
Eiselle looked at her. “I am sure that Daveigh is well-protected by the knights,” she assured her. “And Narborough is your home. If something… well, if something happened, surely you would remain here, as is your right. Why would you even think to leave?”
Keeva shrugged. “Narborough is the crown jewel in the Honor of Narborough, and with it goes the title of Baron Cressingham,” she said. “All of this would go to the next Baron Cressingham, who would be Daveigh’s younger half-brother, Grayson. He has only seen fourteen years, but he is already a fine young man. I know that Grayson would permit me to remain here if I wished it, but it is more than that. Daveigh is my heart and my soul, Eiselle. When I say he is all that I have, I mean that he is the life that beats within me. I could not lose that, much as you could not lose Bric.”
Eiselle understood the passion of her statement. “I almost did,” she said quietly. “Our life together was almost over before it began. I am concerned for him returning to battle so soon.”
Keeva could see the stress in her fine features. “I know you are worried for Bric, lass,” she said quietly. “I have heard the rumors, too. We all have. But Bric descends from the High Kings of Ireland, and he is a warrior of legend. You must not worry over him. He will come home to you.”
Eiselle wasn’t comforted by her words. Dashiell had told her the last time the army had left for battle that Bric would come home to her, and he had – as a casualty. Therefore, Keeva’s words had no real meaning to her but she didn’t say so. She simply nodded her head.
“I am coming to see that worrying for Bric serves no purpose,” she said. “I do believe it displeases him if he knows I am worried for him, so I try not to show it. But watching him ride off to battle and not feel sick to my stomach is going to take practice. The one and only time I watched him ride away was when he returned to me injured.”
Keeva squeezed her arm. “It was not usual, I assure you,” she said. “I have been watching Bric ride off to battle for many years and that was the first time he has returned injured. Have faith that it will be the only time.”
Those words bore some comfort to Eiselle, and she smiled bravely at Keeva, who put her arms around her and hugged her. The two of them had bonded quite a bit over the past several months and had become great friends. As they stood there, watching and waiting, Bric suddenly appeared.
Instead of losing himself in the men as he’d been doing all day, he was heading in their direction. Keeva had to let go of Eiselle or risk being pulled along with her when she ran out to greet him.
Eiselle had no real intention of embracing her husband as she ran to him. He was coming towards her so it seemed natural that sh
e should go to him. But he suddenly opened his arms to her, something he’d never done before, and it seemed to Eiselle that he wanted to embrace her. Therefore, she threw herself into his arms when she came within range and he lifted her up from the ground, holding her tightly.
“That’s my lass,” he murmured into her hair. “I could no longer stay away. You have been watching me for a very long time.”
Eiselle loosened her grip, enough to look him in the face. “Untrue,” she said. “I have not been watching you at all.”
“Then who have you been watching?”
“Mylo.”
He scowled. “Again?”
Eiselle laughed and tightened her grip around his neck, kissing him on the cheek. “I am jesting with you,” she whispered, kissing him again. “I would never watch another man. You are the only man in the world worth watching.”
Bric set her to her feet, his heart full of the warmth from her words. “You always know the right thing to say to me,” he said, taking her hand in his big mitt. “All is forgiven, mo chroí.”
Eiselle’s eyes twinkled at him as he led her back towards the keep, passing Keeva as they went. Keeva was smilingly openly at Bric, a gesture he thought was rather taunting, so he ignored her for the most part. Keeva already knew how happy he was, and how it was because of her bullying tactics he was so happy, but he didn’t want to inflate the woman’s pride by acknowledging it. He heard her laugh as he walked by.
But Eiselle had eyes only for Bric as they headed into the keep, unaware of Keeva’s taunts. “Can I help you pack your things?” she asked. “If I had known what to pack for you, I would have already done so.”
He squeezed her hand as they approached the keep entry. “I appreciate the offer,” he said, “but you need not trouble yourself. I can pack for myself.”
Her face fell. “But I would like to help you and it would save you time,” she said. “Shouldn’t a wife pack for her husband?”
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