and shrugged. “We’ll know anon.”
Rhea’s tone turned grave as she whispered to Alicen,
“Liza’s lying-in will not be easy.”
Alicen nodded and crossed to sit on the low stool
beside the bed. Grasping the expectant woman’s shoulder,
she bent and said quietly, “Liza, ’tis Alicen. How is the
pain?”
Dark eyes flickered open, the circles beneath showing
deep exhaustion. Liza started to speak, but flashing
cramps gripped her, twisting her mouth into an agonized
grimace. “Breathe deeply.” Alicen probed Liza’s
abdomen, then turned to Rhea. “‘Twill be hours yet.
Return to your own bed.”
Rhea snorted. “I may be old, child, but I’m not yet
ready to be laid to rest.”
“None would say you should be, dear friend,” Alicen
replied, smiling. “Still, the babe won’t appear soon. We
can only give Liza a draught for pain and seek sleep for
ourselves.” She rose to embrace the midwife, then moved
with her to the door. “You’re her steadfast friend, Rhea.
Why exhaust yourself when your help is not yet needed?”
“You’ve the wisdom of one my age, lass. Perhaps more.
I’ll return on the morrow.” She glanced up at Jeremy as
she asked Alicen, “Would your apprentice see me home?”
“Escorting women is his specialty.”
Jeremy rolled his eyes, but politely draped Rhea’s
cloak over her stooped shoulders.
The midwife turned to Alicen. “’Twas very brave of
you to come out in such a tumult.”
Suddenly nervous, Alicen muttered, “I knew
something was amiss.”
“Did Alicen tell you she’s terrified of storms?” Rhea
asked Jeremy. “She gets nigh ill with dread.”
Jeremy cast his nemesis a sharp glance. She choked.
“Nay, she did not,” he replied evenly, eyes narrowing.
“I... I’ve gotten over it, Rhea,” Alicen insisted weakly.
“I’ve not had such fear for a long while.”
“But, the last time it thundered so you—”
“You’ve had a terrible time with Liza,” Alicen cut her
off. “You should rest rather than talk.”
Rhea gave her friend an assessing look. “But, lass,
I—”
“Not now, Rhea.” Her tone brooked no protest.
Jeremy scowled. Disregarding the others present, he
stated tersely, “You did not make your fears known to
me!”
“You didn’t ask.”
“I asked of your certainty to go out in this weather,”
he retorted.
She gave him a look that said she thought him mad.
“I was certain! Liza and Rhea needed me.”
“So, you hid your fear? ’Twas ill-advised.”
“Nay, not at all. Healing is my trust. I acted on that
trust.”
With a small step, Rhea placed herself slightly between
the two combatants.
“You purposely deceived me,” Jeremy coldly stated.
His hand clenched his sword hilt.
The gesture didn’t go unnoticed. Alicen swallowed
through a suddenly parched throat. “I—”
“’Twas completely foolhardy,” he broke in, voice still
icy. “You should have stayed behind.”
“And left you to deliver Liza’s baby?” Alicen retorted.
“I’m perfectly capable of doing without your aid or advice.”
Jeremy shot a frustrated look at Rhea that was a glare
when he turned it on Alicen. “What if you’d panicked and
Hercules bolted? You could have fallen and broken your
foolish neck.”
“I didn’t panic.” Alicen refused to admit to terror so
intense panic would have been a controlled emotion. “And
I ride well.”
Jeremy no longer clutched the hilt of his sword,
instead fisting his hands on his hips. He glowered. “You
just said the babe won’t arrive tonight!”
Alicen threw her most defiant look at him. Then she
turned away, ignoring his glare as she moved to the small
hearth which housed a kettle of boiling water. After
pouring some into a wooden mug and adding herbs, she
cooled the brew with water from a crude wooden pitcher.
Rhea spoke at last. “Shall we go now, Master Downe?”
she inquired drolly. “’Tis late.”
He snapped his head around to momentarily stare at
the old woman. “My pardon, Dame Rhea.”
Without another word, he escorted the midwife out.
Alicen slowly recovered from her embarrassment at
Rhea’s revelation and the anger Jeremy’s reaction had
caused, reasoning that what he thought of her made not
a whit of difference.
Still, she’d concealed her fear so well she hated to
have the facade of courage destroyed. For a short time
she’d mastered her terror and was reluctant to forfeit that
mastery. A quiet sigh escaped her lips. The incident would
merely reinforce William’s assertion that she needed a
husband.
Jeremy returned just as Alicen was administering a
draught of painkiller to Liza. Once she’d determined Liza
was nearly asleep, she gathered her courage and turned
to him.
“Captain, take the counsel I imparted to Rhea. Seek
your own bed. The babe won’t arrive for several hours,
perhaps not before tomorrow eve. You’re of little use here.”
“I’ll remain.” He struck his most unyielding pose, arms
across his chest. “If you think to be rid of me so easily,
you’re mistaken.”
His stubbornness exasperated Alicen enough to add
an edge to her voice. “This woman will soon bear a child!
She’s no spy, nor is she able to carry knowledge to Harold.
Think you she’ll slip away while you sleep and disclose
secrets I’ve given her?”
“You forget I’ve been ordered by William to see you
safe,” Jeremy rumbled.
“And you have. We’re here, are we not?” She glanced
down at her fisted hands and sighed heavily. “I’ll say yet
again—I’ve no care who rules this shire. I’m sworn to
heal all, not to aid either camp against the other.”
Jeremy shifted his stance to stand even taller. “I stay.”
She gasped, outraged. “Your mistrust insults me!”
“Then wallow in your distemper. I’ll not leave you to
your own devices.” So saying, he turned and barred the
door. When he once again faced Alicen, he added, “Think
you your physician’s skills are protection from
mercenaries? The jackals would crawl between your legs
in a trice and ask for neither your name nor your
vocation.” Voice cold, he continued, “If Kenrick suspected
you harbored his enemy, he’d torture you until you’d
broken. You’d admit to performing the Crucifixion by the
time he finished. Yet death would not bring escape from
the pain. You’d live until he and his men tired of you.”
“You lie,” Alicen whispered shakily, hoping he did.
He laughed bitterly. “I’ve seen just such. In France...
Here...Atrocities exist wherever men lust for power.” He
stared into the hearth’s glowing embers, seeing raging
fires, hearing piteous cries, feeling impotent rage.
Alicen observed as the pain of frightful memories
pinched his handsome features into careworn planes.
Before she could stop herself, she reached out and
touched his arm.
“Why seek to protect me?” she asked quietly. “My
eyes have seen much the same as yours...My mother
fatally wounded while aiding a soldier’s brutalized
victim...Death, destruction. I’ve reaped war’s bloody
wages. Yet I strive to sow peace. I’m a woman who despises
warfare and the men who make it. Do you not detest me
for that reason alone?”
He met her troubled gaze but held his tongue. How
could tell her he hated war as much as she? That he
respected the fidelity she gave her vow to her dying
mother? That even now he ached to hold her close, safe
and warm, against him?
She’d not believe him. He himself could scarce credit
his solicitous thoughts of her. Reason warned him to have
a care lest he begin wanting something he’d vowed never
to seek again. But his respect for Alicen’s fortitude grew.
She put another’s welfare before her own, which said
much of her character. He wished to ignore her
courageous selflessness, but could not. And that as much
as anything else irritated him
“You serve a purpose,” he replied at last, wincing
inwardly at his cold tone. “I’m to protect you until that
service ends and the duke has seen you wed.”
His statement had the desired effect. Alicen went rigid,
then yanked her hand from his arm as if the contact
burned. In silent rage she spun away, pulled her cloak
around her, and practically threw herself down on the
floor beside Liza’s bed.
Jeremy sighed. Soon, he was wrapped in his cloak
and lying, sword unsheathed beside him, across the
threshold. Guilt stalked him for willfully baiting Alicen.
He’d had no cause. Guilt made sleep dream-filled, restless,
empty of his greatest desire—her in his arms.
***
At sunrise Rhea arrived. Concern creased in her face’s
innumerable lines, she crossed the hut in five strides to
kneel beside the still sleeping Liza. After pushing tumbled
hair off the patient’s face, Rhea looked up at Alicen.
“How does she?”
“Little different.” Alicen rose slowly from her pallet.
“She rested yestereve, but I fear today will bode much
struggle.”
Rhea nodded. “I thought as much. The babe will not
enter this world willingly—.” She caught Alicen’s warning
glance at Jeremy and stopped speaking.
Abrupt silence followed, and the soldier sensed he
was, for whatever reason, the cause. Added to that
discomfort, he felt the urge to heed nature’s call. Not
wishing to endure these women’s bold assessments
should he use the chamber pot, he excused himself for
the woods. His absence would give them leave to wag
their tongues.
“He watches you closely,” Rhea commented after
Jeremy’s departure. “He must set a very high store by
you.”
Alicen’s laugh was almost a snort. “He trusts me not,
so he shadows my steps. ’Tis fear I’ll betray his duke,
naught else.”
Rhea made the sign of the cross. “Then my suspicion
was true. He’s no merchant.”
Alicen nodded gravely. “He’s Jeremy Blaine, Duke
William’s right hand.”
Dark brown eyes glanced quickly around the hut, and
Rhea’s voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “William’s near
Sherford?”
“He’s been at Landeyda since the battle.”
“Jesu be merciful! You and Ned have endured much
danger!”
“Aye, but not by choice.” Alicen shrugged. “Blaine
brought him to me, and I was oath-bound to help. He’s
been unable to travel these weeks past, so he’s sheltered
in my home.”
“What if Harold’s troops return?”
“I suppose William has plans for that eventuality. I
really care not to know of any military stratagems.”
“But why, if you’ve kept silent about the duke’s
presence this long, does the captain yet follow you?”
Alicen’s gaze unwittingly went to the door. “William
has sworn to see me wed and has set Sir Jeremy to
escorting me. Yet he would do so even if not ordered, due
to his base suspicions.”
She felt herself blushing and prayed the weak light
from the small window beguiled her friend’s vision.
“Yestereve, he assured me aught would go well,” Rhea
said slowly. “‘Mistress Kent is a fine healer, grandam,’
said he. ‘Put your mind to rest for the lass and her babe.’”
Alicen shrugged. “It cost him naught to make such
comment. Most likely he thought I’d never hear of it.”
Rhea awkwardly rose from her knees and drew a stool
up beside the bed. Placing a small basin of water and a
clean cloth next to Liza’s head, she sat down. “Mayhap
’tis as you say,” she commented. “Yet, he speaks of you
with respect.”
Now Alicen did laugh. “No doubt he sought to charm
you and thought the straightest path to your heart was
through complimenting me. You’ve been gulled.”
“Nay, I know the tone of high regard when I hear it.
There is more substance to Jeremy Blaine than these old
eyes can see.”
Alicen thought to challenge that belief, but the door
opened and the object of their dispute ducked to enter.
His broad-shouldered frame filled the doorway, blocking
the light. As her gaze locked on his imposing figure, cast
in silhouette, her scathing comment died on her lips.
Knowing full well she stared, she was yet unable to stop.
Liza’s low moan pulled Alicen’s gaze away from Jeremy
and back to the task at hand. Now fully awake, Liza
twisted and stiffened as pain clawed at her. Her groans
deepened, and she grew pale.
“Rest easy, child, and save your strength,” Rhea
crooned. She wiped Liza’s face with a cool, damp cloth.
“The babe will take his sweet time arriving.”
Alicen moved close, a mug of tea in hand. “Drink this,
Liza. ‘Twill help.”
“I’ll see to breakfast.” Rhea rose and bustled about
the small hut, producing a cooking pot and stoking the
fire.
Jeremy glanced around, feeling stiflingly confined in
the tiny hut. The scene playing out before him dredged
up memories of a similar scene he’d long ago quelled.
Worse yet, Alicen’s proximity played havoc with his self-
control. Alternately he found himself angry with and
desirous of her. Neither emotion would serve in this
situation.
Upon surveying the room again, he noted a lack of
firewood.
“Is there an axe?” he asked as he removed his sword
and placed it on the table.
The rich sound of his deep voice startled Alicen and
Rhea, who’d both been deeply engaged in aiding the
expectant mother.
Alicen recovered first. “Under the ell.”
Jeremy nodded and left. He leaped astride a bareback
Charon and headed into the woods. Half an hour later he
returned, Charon dragging a fallen log as big around as
Jeremy’s thigh. He stripped off his tunic and shirt, seized
the axe, and set about chopping and splitting the wood.
He’d been told his skill with an axe was nearly as
formidable as his skill with a sword, and within an hour
he had returned to the forest for another log.
“The meal is ready, Sir Jeremy,” Rhea called to him
as he rode up with the second tree trunk.
He dismounted, an odd look on his face. “Why do you
address me thus?” he asked carefully.
Rhea smiled. “’Tis obvious you’re no merchant. You’ve
a knight’s bearing, and the well-honed sword to back that
claim.” When she saw him glance at the hut, Rhea’s smile
died. “She told me naught of you, sir, until I asked.”
“She should lose her wretched tongue,” he muttered
angrily.
Eyes widening, Rhea grasped his hand. “Nay, sir!
Alicen knew her confidence was safe, or she’d ne’er have
confessed you’re not what you claim.”
Jeremy made a disgruntled sound deep in his throat.
“Did she consider the danger knowing the truth may mean
for you?” When Rhea paled at his words, he gently laid
his free hand atop hers. He smiled. “All you know is that
I’m Jeremy Downe, a merchant.”
“Aye, sir, that’s all I know.”
Giving Rhea’s hand a reassuring pat, he turned to
the well. “I’ll be in presently.” Quickly, he washed his
face, hands, and arms, then splashed cold water on his
sweaty chest. After donning his shirt and gathering an
armful of kindling, he entered the hut.
Alicen, seated at the table, smiled tightly at his
entrance. “There are no military coils to ponder, nor enemy
spies to root out, sir, that you now chop wood to pass
time?”
“The nights are grown colder of late. The woman has
little firewood,” he retorted. “If I must await her child, I
prefer to do so in comfort.”
Alicen glared. Was he such a miserable wretch that
his own welfare came before someone else’s sorrow? He
Carroll, Laurie - War Of Hearts.txt Page 16