Not knowing how to answer, she blurted out, “I didn’t
expect to find you here.”
“Did you expect to find Jason Warrick?”
His cold tone momentarily numbed her, then her
temper rose. “If you must know, I came to see what befell
him.” She glared. “He’d been stunned...He said from
falling and striking his head. I had two men-at-arms help
him to his room.” She wanted to accuse Jeremy of striking
Jason, but her anger died as she saw unfathomed sadness
in Jeremy’s eyes. What was amiss with him?
“I seem capable of naught else but convincing you
I’m a villain,” he said bitterly, avoiding her look. “Have I
been so cruel that you cannot abide my presence? You
share a jest with Warrick, yet hiss like a wet cat when I’m
near.”
His pained expression wrenched her heart. “Jeremy,
that’s untrue, I—”
“Am I such a monster you must protect yourself from
me?” he asked hoarsely. “Am I, Alicen?”
Reaching out, she touched his arm and felt the coiled
tension of hard muscles beneath her fingertips. He
seemed ready to fly asunder. How could she explain that
his presence made her go weak inside, that she feared
only her reaction to him, not anything he would do to
her? Her mouth went dry.
“I protect myself from fear you’ll not return,” she stated
with quiet anguish. She felt him start, saw his gaze swing
to hers. “I fear for your safety. And I fear you may not
desire me enough to come back for me.”
Groaning, he enveloped her in a fierce embrace,
holding her so close she thought she’d melt into his body.
His heart pounded against her breast, his heated breath
brushed her cheek. She wished more than anything to
stay in his embrace.
“I swore I’d return,” he stated, face buried in her hair.
“What more do you wish?”
“For you to keep your promise.”
In response, his lips swooped down on hers in a
heated, passionate kiss that shook her to her soul. Then
he was lifting her in his arms and bearing her swiftly to
his chamber.
***
A fortnight later, Alicen awoke before dawn from the
grip of a terrifying dream. Wiping sweat from her face,
she rose and dressed, then went to pace the battlements.
A foreboding sky greeted her as she gazed toward Escomb,
and she knew with certainty something terrible would
soon occur.
Mother, I’ve had a premonition. Can you tell me what
it means? There was no answer, and Alicen concentrated
harder, sending her urgent thoughts toward Landeyda,
where she assumed her mother’s spirit would be. Still,
Kaitlyn’s voice remained silent. Did this mean her
premonition would come true?
Too anxious to eat, Alicen forced herself to return to
the hall for a draught of mulled wine. The warm drink
did little to assuage the cold fear engulfing her.
The siege of Harold’s stronghold had commenced as
planned, and already William’s troops anticipated victory.
Led by Jason Warrick, a group of knights had managed
to poison Escomb’s water supply. The weather then
turned dry, and the inhabitants of the castle were now
severely short of potable liquids. Casualties had dropped
considerably since then, allowing Alicen time to venture
into Durham village to treat the townspeople. Common
maladies kept her mind focused on matters other than
military strategy.
But not entirely. When she thought of the deaths
Escomb’s inhabitants would suffer if they chose not to
surrender, her skin grew clammy with horror. Pray God
Harold would not hold out against William until such an
atrocity occurred. But Harold was a warrior, Alicen
reflected grimly. Warriors fought to their last gasp. Duty,
honor and courage meant more to them than life.
The morning passed with excruciating slowness, and
she felt the entire time as if a vice crushed her chest.
Certain Jeremy was about to suffer some misfortune made
awaiting word of the troops more agonizing by the
moment. She paced and fretted, unable to lose herself in
her work or ease a stifling anxiety. Her actions more than
once drew Antonio’s questioning look. But by keeping
her own council she avoided articulating any of her fears.
Since no comforting words would soothe the dread
enveloping her, she remained silent.
Until midday.
Alicen stood leaning against a window embrasure in
Durham’s south tower, staring fixedly at the countryside.
She snapped to attention when a sudden chill breeze
engulfed her.
Go, Alicen. You are needed.
“Mother? Why didn’t you speak of this earlier?”
Go to him.
Indecision vanished with her mother’s command, and
Alicen raced into the hall, seeking Rhea. The midwife sat
at a table with Pearl and Liza as the latter nursed her
baby.
“Where is Ned?” Alicen asked breathlessly.
Rhea gave her a curious look. “In his chamber,
fetching the babe a poppet he fashioned. He’ll return
anon.” Looking up, she added, “Ah, here he is.”
The boy grinned when he saw Alicen, but the
expression faded as he looked at her. “Is aught amiss?”
“Sit here,” she indicated a spot on the bench beside
Rhea. “I have much to speak of and little time.”
Her friends listened silently as Alicen outlined her
plan, and no one spoke for a long moment after she
finished.
“I’m going with you,” Ned finally stated resolutely.
“And I,” Rhea added. “Such a trip is too dangerous to
attempt alone.”
Alicen shook her head. “Nay, I cannot put either of
you in jeopardy. I must go to Escomb, but I’ll not risk
you as well.”
“But how will you survive without protection?” Liza
asked, eyes huge with fear. “There are armies in the field!”
“I’ll dress in man’s attire and hope none challenge
me,” she replied simply. “And I’ll not stop long enough to
encourage trouble.” She looked around at the circle of
stricken faces, not daring to tell them she feared her
mother’s silence that morning had been to protect Alicen
from some terrible event. “I must go. Here, I cannot attend
my duties properly, especially not knowing if Jeremy...”
Her voice trailed off as she held back her thoughts.
Speaking them could bring disaster.
“Let me go with you,” Ned begged. “I could help you,
even protect you. Brigands are less apt to attack two
travellers. Besides, you may need my assistance at the
battlefield.”
“Nay, lad, ’tis too dangerous for you.”
“But not for you?” The boy’s mouth set in a grim line.
Alicen saw stubborn determination suddenly light
Ned’s eyes, and she sighed. Some of her headstrong ways
had doubtless been conveyed to her apprentic
e. There’d
be no keeping him at Durham now he knew her plans.
“Come with me if you will, but we must leave now. Every
moment counts, and we have a hard ride ahead.”
“How may we help?” Rhea asked.
Alicen bit her lip in thought. “Mayhap one of the
wounded will say where William’s army is located, if the
question is couched properly. We need to know so we
don’t run afoul of the enemy. Meet me in the infirmary
when you have the information. I need to assemble my
instruments and supplies.” With a nod, Rhea rose and
Alicen looked to Liza, who’d been hanging on every word
of the conversation. “Could you see to some food for us?”
“Aye,” the young mother answered, handing the boy
to Pearl. “I’ll pack enough for several days. Who knows
what the troops are eating in the field?” She bustled off
toward the kitchens.
“Ned, saddle our horses and bring them ‘round to
the side gate. If anyone asks, say we’re off to the village
to deliver a babe and will not return for some time.”
The apprentice could barely contain his excitement.
“I’ll be ready in a quarter hour.”
“Good. That will provide me enough time to pack
clothes and supplies.” Alicen stared moodily after the
departing boy.
Did she endanger him? Ned wanted so to please, to
learn her craft. That he could be injured in the process
chilled her. Yet, she’d said he could accompany her, and
her word was her bond. She laid a gentle hand on Pearl’s
shoulder. “You’ve the most crucial task of all, sweet lass.”
When the girl’s blue eyes turned on her in wonder, Alicen
said, “You must keep Liza, Rhea and the babe safe until
Ned and I return.”
Pearl nodded, an awed look on her face at the
responsibility heaped upon her frail shoulders.
***
A shouted challenge forced Alicen and Ned to rein
their lathered mounts to a halt. They had ridden hard
the entire six leagues to Escomb. In truth, she doubted
she could have pushed Hercules much further at the pace
she’d kept. Ned’s horse nearly staggered with fatigue. Yet
their grueling ride put them at William’s first outpost at
mid-afternoon. A good sign.
She pulled back the hood of her cloak. Recognizing
her immediately, the sentinel waved both riders on toward
the encampment. They had no difficulty finding William’s
tent. The Duke of Tynan’s scarlet banner hung at the
entrance, and two armed guards flanked the opening.
William, clad in battle armor, was just leaving his
quarters.
“Alicen!” He could not mask his surprise, but this
promptly became elation. “And Ned! What brings the two
of you here?”
Suddenly embarrassed by her impulsive deed, she
flushed. Were she not still mounted and looking down on
her lord, she’d have felt only as tall as his knee. How to
explain to him what had prompted this misadventure?
William forestalled her reply by offering his hand to
dismount, but once she stood beside him, she could no
longer avoid telling her fears. She hoped that no real
reason existed for such terror.
She caught a deep breath, then said hesitantly, “We,
that is, I, feared something dreadful had occurred, and
we—”
Tumult on the road from Escomb drew everyone’s
attention. Alicen turned to look over her shoulder in the
direction of the din. What she saw made her heart quaver.
The troops of York and Tynan were returning from battle—
fatigued, sullied, bloodied.
But a single image arrested her attention, causing
her to nearly swoon. Charon, trappings and caparison
covered with blood, was being led by a grim-faced Michael
Taft.
The charger’s saddle was empty.
With an anguished cry, she rushed headlong into the
crush of troops, heedless of the massed soldiers, horses,
and equipment of war. In a few painful moments she stood
at Taft’s stirrup.
“Lieutenant?” Her expression completed the question.
He looked astonished at her presence but managed
to gesture toward the wagons of casualties. “He’s badly
wounded, Mistress. We had to put him on a litter.”
Without reply, she hurried toward the injured men.
It took just moments to locate Jeremy. Then, she had to
fight a wave of nausea that threatened to debilitate her
completely.
The sight of him blood-soaked from neck to left hip
brought a panic subdued only by forcing herself to assess
his injury as a healer would. Seeing him only as a patient,
not as the man she loved, steadied her. She’d treated
more grievous wounds, but would need a clear head to
save this life. Emotion could not interfere in her decisions.
He lay semiconscious, a crossbow bolt protruding
from just beneath his left collarbone. Blood trickled from
under a rag bound over his temple. Someone had removed
his breastplate, and Alicen observed that his chain mail
had prevented the bolt from penetrating through his body.
Most likely, pieces of metal were embedded in the wound,
but the greatest danger was loss of blood. He could ill
afford to lose more of such a precious commodity.
“I didn’t remove the quarrel,” Taft said from beside
her. “I feared he’d bleed to death before we got him here.”
The strain in Taft’s voice only echoed Alicen’s dread.
If, as she suspected, the point had struck an artery,
Jeremy could be dead within minutes.
“Good thinking, Lieutenant,” she responded with
outward calm. “Let’s get him to his tent. Ned?”
The boy, too, was at her shoulder, pale but showing a
brave front. “Shall I fetch a brazier?”
“Aye, lad. We must cauterize the wound immediately.”
Her apprentice had brought her bag of instruments.
Taking it, she followed the men bearing Jeremy. Once
they had him on his pallet, she set to work carefully
packing wads of bandages around the quarrel and holding
them tight to Jeremy’s flesh.
“Lieutenant, remove his mail while I control the
bleeding. Roll it up like cloth, then lift it over the bolt.
The shaft mustn’t penetrate any deeper.” She glanced at
her apprentice. “Are the instruments ready?”
“Anon.”
She nodded to Taft, and he swiftly but carefully rolled
the thigh-length mail up his captain’s body. Although
the wadding she held to the wound was soaked with blood,
it was flowing steadily, not pulsing. Praise to God.
“Ned, come hold this bandage in place.” She
exchanged the boy’s hands on the cloth for hers, then
readied her irons. “Michael, we’ll need two or three more
men to hold him steady.”
Taft’s shout brought Malcolm Fish and two others.
They each seized one of Jeremy’s healthy limbs while Taft
pinned Jeremy’s body to the pallet an
d Alicen removed
the quarrel.
Jeremy’s cry voiced the agony of the damned when
she cauterized his wound, but the men kept him supine,
and she quickly had the bleeding stopped. The wound
wasn’t as severe as she’d feared, but he’d lost a
tremendous amount of blood on the return from Escomb.
She shuddered to think what would have happened if
Ned and she hadn’t arrived when they did.
Thank you, Mother, she silently voiced.
She applied ointment to the wound and left it
unbandaged to monitor possible bleeding. It took only
moments to stitch closed Jeremy’s scalp laceration and
bind it with a clean cloth. His blood-soaked shirt had
been tossed to the tent floor. She would leave his hose
for Robert, his squire, to remove later.
Bending down from the small stool on which she sat,
Alicen lifted the ruined shirt to hand to Robert. An object
fell atop Jeremy’s hauberk. His dagger. She bent to pick
it up, then examined it with a start.
All color drained from her face. Her eyes betrayed
her! Embedded in the dagger’s hilt were the same stones
set in the same pattern as those in the amulet which
never left her neck...She gasped. Then a breeze ruffled
her hair, and her mother’s voice spoke.
You were fated to be together, Daughter. But you must
convince him you can love a soldier. That he does, indeed,
hold your heart.
“Oh, Jeremy,” she whispered, choked with emotion.
Then, realizing there were others present, she slid the
dagger into her sleeve, rose and turned to the gathered
soldiers. “Thank you all for your assistance.” Her voice
shook from anxiety and wonder. “If he lives, you have
yourselves to credit.”
The men voiced protests at her claim, but she waved
them from the tent with the admonition that they had,
indeed, saved their captain’s life. Then she returned to
the pallet. Reaching into her sleeve, she withdrew the
dagger and squeezed the scabbard tight in her hand. Love
me enough to live, Jeremy.
Twenty-Four
Pain penetrated Jeremy’s dulled mind and pulled him
to cognizance as Alicen sat down at his side. Weak and
disoriented, he made no meaning of the fact that she was
in his tent near the battlefield. A grim smile touched his
lips.
“Did I not keep my promise to return?” he asked
Carroll, Laurie - War Of Hearts.txt Page 37