One Winter Knight

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One Winter Knight Page 25

by Townsend, Lindsay


  “We needs care for your wounds—”

  “Ho, there, did you not think I guard your back should it need be?” Ahna flinched at the deep mocking voice and glanced over her shoulder to recognize Royce’s long-time friend and captain, Sir Geoffrey Eton. The thick barrel-chested man who topped even Royce’s imposing height still bore his thick, black beard and most likely matching hair past his shoulders. Also in mail under his similar brown tabard, he stood with feet braced wide apart, his sword dangling from his hand. His dark eyes twinkled with merriment to match his wide smirk.

  “I missed all the fun,” the jokester-warrior continued, “but when a stag leaped right out in front of me, then a scattering of birds, I figured you might needs assistance. I see now ’tis a mere lad and surprised I be to see evidence of such a tussle.”

  Maintaining his bold stance, he shook his head as his grin spread wider. “Mayhap we needs have you visit the lists more often with your own men. What say you, my friend and oh-so-strong knight?” His hardy laugh boomed into the tree tops, sending birds into flight again. If circumstances were different, Ahna might have laughed. She marveled she had not heard the wagon draw near or Sir Geoffrey approach. Of course she had not—her hearing had not functioned any better than her lungs when Royce’s vise-like arm had cut off her air.

  “Cease, you idiot, before I order a few lashes to curb your wayward tongue.” Royce tried to glare at Sir Geoffrey, yet chuckled at the man’s misperception. “’Twas no tussle at all. I merely dragged the villain to the ground.”

  Before she realized what Royce intended, he whipped the lopsided cap off her head and chucked it into the air. Loosened pins and a bedraggled ribbon sailed through the air as if carried away by a strong gust. The heavy auburn mass tumbled down her back, yanking at her scalp when the curtain of waves reached her waist with a grudging stop.

  “Behold my attacker who planned to thrust an arrow into my shoulder. But all is well, for ’twas all in the name of greed for money to be gained from the not-so-secretive transport of the Chalice.” His patronizing snarl wounded her heart nae less than if he had reached into her chest with claws to rip it apart. She glanced toward Geoffrey and regretted it. Before she looked back at Royce, his captain’s astonished look turned hateful as if he might want to join Royce in her torture. God forgive her, for she deserved every punishment they might administer. When had she turned sinner? Like father like daughter? Heaven forbid.

  Though she valiantly tried to curtail tears, they pooled in her eyes. Before they trickled down her cheeks, she swiped at them with the back of her hand. Curses! As she raised her arm, her shoulder and back screamed in protest. Though the quiver she had landed on ’twas soft leather, the three long wooden arrows had slammed against the ridge of her right shoulder blade. Her left side had impacted with her captor’s steeled body. She swallowed this time to stop their flow and squared her shoulders, sore or no’. She regretted the harm she had intended, but not why she felt compelled to do it. She had to remember she had just cause—or at least, in her mind, she did. How could she have ever thought she could wound the only man she would give her life for?

  “’Twas no’ for greed, Sir Royce,” she swallowed down the flames in her throat, “but to aid my ailing mother,” she said with a boldness she did not feel. Yet, she met his gaze without blinking. What would Royce do to her for her folly? Would he put her in the dank and foul dungeon? In chains? Would he make her work to pay off her sin? Worse, would he deny her returning to her mother in her final agonizing days? Oh, sweet Mother Mary, please have him show lenience. What have I done? Mother needs me, and I needs be with her.

  Royce glared. His jaw clenched, and she knew he searched for some understanding. His gaze remained bitter cold, totally indifferent. He would never forgive her for such a thoughtless, selfish act. Though she had acted out the fiasco, she had done it to gain relief for her mother. Now, her conscience chided she had been stupid, irresponsible, and a sinner to plan to harm another—no matter she needed medicine. Remorse came a bit too late. She would now have to pay the piper. Forgive me, Mother, for failing you. No tears came, not when frigid cold crept into her bones leaving her feeling so totally alone.

  “Say no more, Ahna,” he snapped. “My temper runs very thin at present. Let us gain our horses.” Without glancing her way, he grabbed her cap from the ground, crushed it within his large fist, then retrieved his discarded sword and gauntlets not far behind them. “We will tend your wounds good enough until we can do more at Dillyglen. Then, and only then, will we discuss exactly what you are about. ”

  He turned to Sir Geoffrey. “How far is the wagon?” She could feel the effort he took to curb the explosive tension, could almost hear his anger sizzle in the air.

  “Just yonder around the bend.”

  “Good. We will make haste to join you. Once her horse be tied to the back, she will ride with you. I will ride lookout with the others.”

  Sir Geoffrey’s brows rose, “I can ride—”

  “No,” Royce barked. “I needs be away from her for a bit, else I may finish what I started with her lovely neck.” Sir Geoffrey nodded, turned, and headed back the way he had come.

  “Come, Ahna.” Royce turned and ambled toward where she had tethered Patience. Fearful of riling him further, she took two steps to his one in order no’ lag behind. He walked at a clipped pace saying no’ one word. Knowing better than to break the silence, she swallowed back threatening moans from the sting in her neck and biting soreness in her battered shoulders. She be but twenty-and-one, yet she felt she had just aged ten years

  Chapter Four

  Ahna perched on the wagon seat next to the silent warrior and concentrated on watching the back bones of the four huge oxen ripple and flex as they trudged effortlessly down the bumpy, dirt road. Copses of trees, some bare, others left with a few leaves, alternated with stretches of dense pine forests dappled in white to the left. A wide meadow of tall grass and the last lingering patches of purple heather and pink heath intermingled with rocky outcrops stretched across the rolling hills and vales on the right.

  Black-faced sheep bleated, cattle lowed, and calves bawled as they lazily roamed the rolling grasslands. Horses dotted the higher ground to graze at their afternoon meal. Grasses, rich soil, peat, and a few scattered wildflowers perfumed the dry air. It would have been quite enjoyable, had not Geoffrey ignored her presence. His piqued scowl and glare straight ahead indicated he felt her highly unworthy of acknowledgement. Mayhap he be simply loyal to Royce. Well, she dinna relish exercising her raw throat at present. So there. She almost stuck out her tongue.

  Several large pieces of furniture protected by large hides thrown over them creaked and groaned as they shifted with each dip or bend in the road. Song birds tweeted, while an occasional hare or squirrel scampered into the woods as they neared.

  Trying to enjoy the scenery, the earlier task of Royce cleansing her neck attacked her senses. Though wroth and bitter, he had taken precaution to treat her wounds with a tender touch. Silently, he had assisted her to mount. Once they met up with Sir Geoffrey, her seated and her horse tied to the back, Royce upon his huge black horse vanished in a cloud of snow and dust.

  ****

  As the moat and outer curtain of Dillyglen came into view with the great hall and several round towers rising up within the protective walls, Ahna’s jaw dropped in wonder. She had seen several castles from afar before, but this enormous structure atop a hill nigh took her breath away. After traveling about three very silent hours, she realized she had never traveled this far north from Selkirk that lay at the most southern part of the border. Her backside tingled with numbness, and though she predicted she ’twould be directly thrown into the dungeon with rats and whatever else might skulk there—talk about going from bad to doomed—she would welcome stretching her legs.

  So this was one of many castles confiscated throughout the Borders by the bold and mighty knights who captured and claimed each for their English king. In r
eturn, Edward granted each knight that very castle and its surrounding lands. Royce ’twas no’ only one of the king’s favored knights, but had assumed the role of acting earl since his father had suffered apoplexy and became bedridden. Now he be master of this far-reaching land and incredible castle, Dillyglen, just outside Kelso. When they had met two years ago and she had lost her heart, he had talked of his newly acquired home, but she had no idea ’twas so very grand. No wonder he and his family thought themselves far above anyone’s station. Especially her and her family, with their shameful fall from grace.

  Wheels rumbled over the wooden bridge as they passed over the murky moat. Gripping the wagon seat harder to combat her bouncing, she breathed through her mouth to lessen the nauseating stench threatening to gag her. Her eyes smarted and watered. She caught a glimpse of a few helmed men along the top of the outer curtain wall before they passed under its arch. Once into the outer bailey, the air cleared and she took a deep, welcomed breath as they continued toward the massive stone gatehouse, then rolled beneath its grand archway. Ahna’s eyes wandered from the tall tower to the men nodding to Sir Geoffrey from above to the many towers throughout the complex as they came into view.

  She marveled at the Great Hall to the left as they crossed the inner bailey. Several other buildings stood straight ahead, while two others to the right looked to be stables and housing for guards and knights. She was unsure if she had named buildings and structures correctly.

  She smiled for the first time all day as children, their little legs pumping hard, raced after a large ball, each vying to be the one to kick it farther. Two black and white shaggy dogs barked in eagerness as they joined the fray. Royce stood off to the right just ahead, conversing with several men. Though the wagon rumbled along, causing many to glance their way, he ignored them.

  Would he nonchalantly order one of his men to drag her by the hair of her head to the dungeon? Would he withhold food for days, or care that rodents would nibble at her toes? She could easily forgo eating for a quite some time as long as they allowed her a wee bit of water. She could ration it out as long as possible. She prayed he might show that much mercy. But the rats? She feared rats as much as being trapped in a cold and dark, wet and dank confined space with no light. She would waste away like her mother. Heavenly days! Would he have her chained? Her lip quivered as icy tentacles slithered through her veins, until she shivered from horrific dread. She fought for a breath before she became light-headed. How much did Royce truly hate—and now—despise her?

  ****

  When Sir Geoffrey pulled the team to a halt directly in front of the Great Hall, Ahna concentrated on watching the children off to the left, praying she wouldn’t faint when Royce gave the command to take her below. Six men, well-clothed, but obviously servants or peasants, rushed from the castle to greet the captain, then began untying the hides from the furniture. They cast inquiring eyes her way for but a moment before attending to the knight’s instructions.

  Descending the wagon, Sir Geoffrey stretched his wide shoulders and flexed his knees before turning her way. “Slide over and I will assist you down. Be prepared, for your legs will most likely want to crumple when you stand.” She appreciated his kind offer, yet his facial features remained hostile, his gruff voice no less than a roar. Like leader, like captain. Mayhap they would simply throw her into the putrid moat and be done with her. She shivered and no’ from the increasing chilly breeze or the flurries starting to swirl the air.

  ****

  Royce, along with those who had dismounted, conversed with Sir Arnold, his second in command who he had left to oversee Dillyglen, and Alfred, his steward. As they welcomed his return and quickly brought him up on events since his departure, stable boys led the horses to the stables. It seemed his mother, just this morning, suffered from one of her snits—as usual. Wait until she discovers Ahna’s present. He hoped the stone walls would withstand such a gale force.

  Relieved all was well otherwise, his eyes gravitated toward Ahna as she exited the cart. When she stumbled, his heart lurched. He fought back the urge to rush to her aid. Seeing Geoff steady her, Royce breathed a sigh of relief. Truth be known, he doubted he could hold her again without trembling with want. Clenching his teeth, he turned to go greet his mother. Only then would he hasten to seek answers from Ahna.

  He had planned to leave first thing on the morrow for Edinburgh. Now, with Ahna here and the chaos his mother would raise, he had no recourse other than to leave two days hence if he were to deliver the Chalice to the bishop in time. While listening to Alfred’s update, he prayed he would not be enticed by Ahna’s charms during his interrogation of her. His heart ached from yearning. He could only hope he would not make a fool of himself when he confronted her. Two years ago, he had thought himself very wise; he had been but the fool. A complete imbecile who believed he far superior in so many ways, yet more than blind to what really mattered in this insane world, only to discover his loss too late. Now, she remained out of his reach.

  As the updates finished, Royce nodded approval, then joined Geoff. Ahna ambled back and forth at the far side of the wagon, limbering her legs—most likely at Geoff’s instructions. Wagon seats were cruel to those who had little padding on their posterior, he thought. Oh and what a delightful posterior she had. He chastised himself for admiring her lithe form and turned to his captain.

  “Take her inside and have Bertha show her to the west end room past mine. Have her neck taken care of, and see that Bertha has a light meal and wine or mead sent up to her. Oh, and a fire set.” At Geoff’s raised brows, Royce scowled. “Tell Ahna I will see her shortly.”

  Royce turned, making haste before Geoff could drill him as to why he coddled the enemy. Enemy, hell! He craved her as much as he did a sweet morsel hot from the oven. She held his heart so taut, his chest ached merely thinking of her. Soon, he would have to look at her, talk to her. God help me get through it with some semblance of dignity and control.

  Chapter Five

  As Tessa set down her basket of healing supplies on the small table, Ahna stood speechless in the middle of the room, her mind swirling with confusion. Meeting Bertha had been like encountering a swirling wind storm. After her initial greeting, Bertha, much like a doting gray-haired mother—or better yet, a commander of the men at arms—ordered a lad to lay a fire in the end west room, instructed a girl to bring up a tray of meat, cheeses, bread, fruit, a flagon of warm wine and another of mead. In the same breath, she bid the middle-aged woman named Tessa to gather her healing basket and make haste. Why had Bertha brought her to this lovely room?

  “Sit right here, dearie,” Bertha indicated the cushioned straight chair, “and Tessa will fix you right up in no time. There be no better at healing than our Tessa.”

  Tessa, silently but with a sweet smile, set up her supplies on the table, then poured a clear solution into a shallow bowl. After crossing the room to wash her hands in the basin, she returned to cautiously turn Ahna’s neck this way and that.

  “Does that hurt anywhere?”

  “No,” Ahna answered and Tessa nodded, flashing another smile.

  The healer dipped a swatch of linen into the solution, then gently swabbed her neck. “’Twill cleanse as well as soothe your angry skin. Do you have any trouble swallowing or breathing?”

  “No. ’Twas more than a wee bit sore to swallow at first, but now ’tis mostly sore on the outside.”

  Tessa inspected her neck, then nodded. “You be lucky. The cuts be not deep, but yer bruises will be tender fer a bit.” She dabbed the skin dry then spread a salve liberally over Ahna’s neck, gently massaging it in. “’Tis a mixture of boiled chickweed, rose petals, red wine and sheep’s fat. ’Twill heal yer skin before ye know it. I be sending up some willow bark tea to help any lingering soreness in yer throat,” she said as she wrapped linen strips around Ahna’s neck.

  “Leave the dressing on ’til the morrow and I be again checking your wounds.”

  “Thank ye verra much, T
essa. Ye be verra gentle, and I know they be healing well with such good care,” Ahna said, returning the smile.

  “You be most well come, miss.” Tessa beamed as she gathered her supplies.

  “Afore we leave,” Bertha cut in, “the chamber pot be under the bed. ’Twill be emptied every morning. Be there anything else ye may be needing, milady?” the smiling windstorm of kindness asked.

  “Bertha, I be no’ my lady or milady.” She chuckled for the first time all day, and realized she could breathe easier. “Please, call me Ahna. But surely there be some mistake fer ’tis sure I am I shouldna’ be put in such a grand room.”

  The woman’s eyes twinkled. “My granny on my mum’s side ’twas part Scottish and your sweet brogue reminds how much I loved to listen to her. And there be no mistake, Ahna. Sir Royce instructed you be put in this very room. ’Tis a lovely view of the back gardens and hills beyond that window.” At the knock on the door, Bertha grinned. “Enter,” she bellowed.

  “Put that just in front of the fire,” she instructed two boys carrying in a metal tub. “The rest of ye empty the pails in, then be gone with ye,” she ordered as she grabbed two towels balanced across one of the tub carriers’ shoulders, then faced Ahna.

  “Ye get yourself in there and take your time since Sir Royce knows ye be bathing and dressing afore his visit. There be soap and oil of lavender on the wash stand and some lovely lotions. Lytha will knock three times afore bringing clothes he said for you to wear. If ye need help dressing or anything else, ask Lytha.”

  What was Royce up to?

  “I don’t understand, Bertha, but I thank ye for makin’ me so well come. I believe I have more than I expected for the moment.”

  She watched Bertha leave, noting the woman’s satisfied grin, and wondered how long it would be before Royce’s bellows reached her ears when he found out she was not only nestled so cozily in here, but that she indulged in a bath, had fresh clothing, and would be supping below stairs. He could no’ have said for her to be in here.

 

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