by Anne Herries
‘Then perhaps we should leave,’ Alain said and smiled at her. ‘The boats are ready to take us to the shore. Come, I shall help you…’
He went over the side, standing on the rope ladder a few rungs beneath the ship’s rail while Bryne helped to steady her at the top. For a moment her feet tried and failed to find the first rung and she gave a startled cry as for a brief second her head whirled, but in a moment Alain had secured her foot for her.
‘Do not fear, Katherine,’ his voice reassured her. ‘You shall not fall. I am here and will make sure you come to no harm.’
‘I am able to manage now. It was only a moment of uncertainty.’
When they reached the boat below, Alain was waiting for her. He took her hand, helping her, catching her as she almost missed her footing again, holding her close to steady her for a second. She caught her breath as her heart raced, and, looking up into his face for a moment, she knew a longing to be kissed. Surely he felt something—his eyes seemed to caress her. Oh, how she wanted to be held in his strong arms, to be kissed, touched…to know the love that blossomed between man and wife in their marriage bed…but she should be ashamed of such wanton thoughts! Her head was going round and round and she did not know what possessed her.
Katherine’s blushes were saved as a shout from above warned them that Bryne and Celestine were on the way down, Bryne supporting the lady much as Alain had done for Katherine.
Celestine’s smiles were all for Bryne, the look she gave Katherine cold and accusing. Katherine wondered if she could see into her mind, if she had guessed her secret. She prayed that it was not so—she could not bear that the other woman should know how vulnerable she was in the matter of Sir Alain.
He was kind and considerate towards Katherine, but it was Celestine he found irresistible, Celestine he desired in the way that Katherine longed to be desired. She was too thin and plain, and…she loved a man who would never love her.
Oh, how ill she felt. Her heart was breaking and pain and fever racked her body. If only she could die, then this pain might cease.
At last her feet were on dry land, and after so many days at sea she felt rather odd, as if the ground were moving beneath her feet. It was quite common for those unused to sailing to feel that way, she knew, and she was not alarmed, though she still felt unsteady. Once again Sir Alain’s strong arm was there to steady her, and she smiled at him gratefully.
‘It will pass in a few minutes,’ he assured her. ‘I know how you are feeling, for it happened to me on my first voyage to France.’
‘I am better now,’ Katherine assured him, though she still felt a little strange. ‘How kind—’ She gave a gasp of dismay as the earth suddenly whirled about her and the next second she was falling.
It was Alain who caught her, sweeping her up in his arms before she could reach the ground. He knew a moment of panic as he looked down at her; her eyelids were fluttering against her pale cheeks as a soft moan escaped her. Why had the foolish girl not told him she was ill?
‘This is more than finding her legs again after a voyage,’ he said and Bryne came anxiously towards him. He glanced at Celestine and then at Maria, who had gathered round. ‘Has she shown any sign of feeling unwell of late?’
‘No, said Celestine, her mouth a thin line of annoyance.
‘Yes,’ said Maria with a worried frown. ‘She complained of a headache when she woke this morning, but told me not to fuss because she felt better almost immediately.’ Laying her hand on the girl’s brow, she looked at the two men. ‘I believe she hath a fever.’
‘Indeed, I believe you are right,’ Sir Alain said and his concern showed in his face. ‘We must get her to an inn and quickly, for she needs the attention of a physician.’
‘Forgive me, sir,’ Maria intervened. ‘But I do not trust physicians. They will bleed her and apply hot irons to her body and the poor love will suffer terribly. I have nursed her through many fevers. If you will but find us a good clean bed where she may lie in peace and I may tend her, I believe we can manage without the ministrations of a physician.’
Alain looked at her doubtfully, but her tone was so urgent, her pleading so persuasive that he was moved to agree.
‘You will need herbs and medicines,’ Bryne said. ‘Tell me what you need, Maria, and I shall fetch them myself.’
‘I thank you both,’ Maria replied. ‘I shall give you a list of things I may need, sir. My master taught me to write and I keep a list of my ingredients always with me in case of need.’ She took out a much-folded and worn scrap of parchment upon which the script was faded and hard to read, but with some discussion between them, Bryne was apprised of all he needed to know.
‘It may take me some hours to find an apothecary who has all that you need,’ he said. ‘But you may be sure that I shall return as soon as I am able.’
All at once, things began to happen. Sir Bryne took the horse that one of his men had procured for him and set off at a gallop. Sir Alain’s men had somehow commandeered a wagon from a passing freeman, and Katherine was laid on a pile of blankets that had been found for her.
One of Alain’s men was detailed to look after Celestine, who was disgusted by the way things had changed so suddenly, for now it was Katherine who was receiving the attention she believed was her due. Yet she did her best to hide it as the small cavalcade started off.
Sir Alain, his men and Celestine rode on the horses that had been hired for them from a hostelry nearby when the ship reached harbour, while Maria rode in the wagon with Katherine. She had already administered a few drops of a potion she carried in a small flacon at her waist, but for the moment there was no change in Katherine’s condition. She lay with her eyes closed, her skin dry and hot with fever, unmoving and unaware as they arrived at the inn.
She did not stir as Alain carried her into the inn and up the stairs to the chamber his men had bespoke earlier. He had planned to spend only one night at the inn, which was clean by the standards of most, but still a poor place to stay. It was more usual for travellers to seek out a monastery, where the monks would provide a clean, comfortable bed and good food, but, poor as it was, this would just have to do for the time being.
Laying his burden down, Alain stood gazing at Katherine’s pale face for a moment, until he was given a look by Maria that told him he must leave.
Yet still he lingered, unwilling to leave Katherine, for he believed she was gravely ill. ‘You will let me know when she is better?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Maria replied. ‘But for the moment I must be alone with her. There are things I need to do for her—and ’tis immodest for you to be here.’
‘Forgive me,’ Alain said. ‘I have been thoughtless, but it was merely my concern for her. I shall go and leave you to care for her—but you will call me if you need me?’
‘Yes, sir. Please go now. I must try to cool this heat or she may die.’
‘God forbid!’
Alain turned at once, leaving Maria to do what she could for her mistress. He discovered that his feelings upon the matter were much stronger than he had imagined. His feelings for Katherine had become a warm, deep affection that he might perhaps feel for…his sister? Yes, that must be it, he reasoned. This anxiety, this desire to keep her safe and to protect her were right and natural if he thought of Katherine as a sister. He smiled as he remembered Marguerite, who was his true sister. The last news he had had of her was that she was about to be betrothed to a man called Orlando, who was Stefan’s close friend.
For a moment he allowed himself to dwell on pleasant memories of the past, but then he found that he was anxious and restless again. In the parlour downstairs, which the landlord had cleared of undesirables once he discovered the quality of his visitors, Alain was offered food and drink, but discovered that he had no appetite.
He ordered that his men should be housed and fed to the best of the host’s ability, and was told that his men had been given accommodation in lofts above the stables and a barn that was used for fodder.
They would do better in their own pavilions, Alain thought, and wondered if he should send some of them ahead of him to Banewulf.
Yet he might need them if Ravenshurst were to somehow follow them to England. In the morning he would send someone to find an open stretch of countryside where they could make camp, but for this evening the stables and barn must do.
‘Give my men ale, bread and meat,’ he told the landlord. ‘You shall be paid well for your trouble, though we may have to stay here longer than I had expected.’
‘’Tis an honour to serve your lordship,’ the landlord said and bowed in a servile manner. ‘Is it your lady that was taken ill so suddenly?’
‘No, merely a lady I have pledged to see safely home to her family,’ Alain replied with a frown. Yet even as he answered, he wondered if he deceived himself, for a part of him wanted to lay claim to her, to declare that she was indeed his. Yet he had no right; Bryne had a prior claim on her affections and she must remain as a dear sister to Alain. ‘But I have great respect for her and she must be given every comfort.’
‘That is more than I have been given,’ Celestine said, entering the parlour at that moment. ‘My bedchamber is so tiny I can hardly breathe.’
‘It is my third-best chamber,’ the landlord said. ‘The best was given to his lordship…’
‘Then you may have mine, lady,’ Alain said at once. It was merely chivalry to give the better room to a lady, but he could see that Celestine was angry and he wished to placate her. When they first met, he had thought her beautiful and charming, but now he was aware that her lovely face hid a scheming mind. It was because of his suspicions that he had gone out of his way to please and flatter her and it was perhaps even more important now. ‘A place on the floor will do for me, if need be. Bryne can have your chamber when he returns.’
‘All this fuss for nothing,’ Celestine said and blushed as she realised her mistake. ‘I am sure Katherine will recover in a short time. She seemed perfectly well on board the ship. I dare say it is just tiredness or some such ailment. I, too, have been ill…’ Her tone seemed to imply that no one had been concerned when she was suffering in her cabin.
‘I was concerned for you,’ Alain assured her at once, because it would not do to allow her to see into his mind. If she played a devious game, then so must he. ‘But we knew what ailed you, and, unpleasant as it was, we did not fear for your life. The Lady Katherine is suffering from a fever and we cannot tell how serious it may be.’ Many fevers were deadly and more died than survived them.
‘We must hope it is not contagious.’ Celestine pulled a face. ‘This will mean a serious delay for us all…’
‘But there need be no delay for you,’ Alain said at once. ‘Should you wish it, I can spare some of my men to escort you to your home as soon as a ship is available.’
Celestine frowned. This was not at all what she wanted!
‘I could not abandon Katherine while she is ill. No, no, I was merely thinking of you, Sir Alain. I dare say you long to see your home and your family.’
‘I shall not deny that my thoughts have turned homeward several times of late,’ Alain told her. Now what game did she play? This sudden concern for Katherine was false if he had judged her right. He must be doubly careful now. ‘However, it is my duty to see the Lady Katherine safe, and this I shall do.’
‘Then I must stay with her,’ Celestine said. ‘It would be immodest for a young girl of Katherine’s innocence to travel alone with you and Sir Bryne—even though I know you to be honourable knights.’
‘She has the dragon,’ Alain quipped and then smiled inwardly as he saw that Celestine did not understand the jest. ‘I meant Maria. She protects her mistress as fiercely as any dragon. I do not think she trusts any man where her darling is concerned.’ Or woman either, he thought, for he knew that Maria disapproved of Celestine. She might not have voiced it in his hearing, but it was there in her eyes when she least knew it.
‘Then why did you not say so?’ Celestine’s eyes snapped with temper; she had no sense of humour and suspected that she was being mocked, but was not sure what lay behind the expression in his eyes. She had thought him just another knight of little depth, believing she could wind him around her finger as she did other men—but perhaps there was more to him than she had previously imagined. ‘Maria is merely a serving woman. She cannot protect Katherine’s modesty sufficiently. It is my duty to protect Katherine from the vicious spite that might otherwise destroy her reputation.’
And who will protect your modesty? The quip was on the tip of Alain’s tongue, but he did not speak his thoughts aloud. He knew that he had already upset Celestine that day, and it would not do to mock her too openly. Particularly now that Katherine was ill.
He inclined his head towards her, making no further comment. She glared at him and went out, clearly still upset by the day’s events. He must do what he could to restore her good humour, Alain realised. He began to pace the floor of the small parlour, restless and anxious for the girl who lay above.
As a young boy his mother had often cured him of fevers, Alain remembered. He wished that she were here with them, for he was certain she would know what to do for Katherine. Banewulf was but hours away if the messenger made all speed! If he sent word his mother would surely come, for she would be overjoyed to see him again.
Feeling the relief flow over him, Alain called for writing materials and penned the note that would bring his loving mother to his aid. His letter finished, he took it out to one of his most trusted men and gave it to him, commanding him to make all speed.
‘Give your letter only to my mother, the Lady of Banewulf,’ he said. ‘And make haste— I need her help most urgently.’
‘I shall not stop, my lord,’ the soldier said. ‘Your letter shall be delivered as swiftly as it may be done.’
Alain thanked him and went back inside the inn to wait. Pacing the floor, he found himself unable to relax, and, after sending once more to see how Katherine was, sat down to pen another letter.
His business in England was of some importance, though he had dismissed it lightly to Katherine. He must not neglect it despite the anxiety that hung over him like a black cloud.
Chapter Five
‘How is she?’ Bryne asked as he met Alain in the innkeeper’s small parlour the following evening. The hour was late and it had grown dark, the night sky lit only by a sprinkling of stars. ‘Has there been a change? It took me so long to find an apothecary that could help me that I feared I had been away too long and should be too late.’
‘Indeed, I feared it, too. Maria has been out of her mind with worry for the herbs she carries have had no effect in lessening the fever.’
The tallow candles spluttered in their sconces, the stink of them pervading the air. Used to the luxury of wax, Alain took his friend by the arm out into the night air.
‘That is better. I swear I thought the stench of that place could get no worse, but I was wrong. I would take Katherine elsewhere but I fear she is too ill to be moved for the moment. Maria says she has managed to cool the fever a little, but Katherine is still as she was when you left us, neither worse nor better.’
Bryne cursed. ‘We are such fools not to have seen she was ill before this!’
‘How could we have known? She did not say she was ill, and she seemed in good spirits.’ Alain frowned— Bryne was right, they ought to have seen the signs. He had wondered at the girl’s quiet manner, thinking that she had some reason for it, that perhaps she might be angry with him, but now thought it may have been the sickness coming on. ‘I have written and asked my mother to come to us. She hath some skill with healing and may save Katherine where others might fail.’
‘Should we not summon a physician?’ Bryne could not hide his deep anxiety. ‘I would not have her die from our neglect.’
‘We must give Maria and my mother a chance first,’ Alain replied. ‘I remember that my mother had no faith in physicians, for she said that many of them were charlata
ns who had little skill or knowledge, but pretended to know everything and did more harm than good.’
‘But if she should die before—’ Bryne broke off as there was a commotion behind them and then a small party swept into the inn yard, the clatter of hooves and the rattle of wheels breaking the silence of the night. As they turned, a woman was being helped down from her horse and came immediately towards them, a smile upon her face.
‘Alain!’ she cried, relief and pleasure in her voice as she saw him. ‘Is it indeed you, my son? God be praised! I could hardly believe it when your messenger arrived last evening. So many years without a word and then to know that you were here!’
‘Mother?’ Alain stared at the woman in stunned disbelief, though he knew at once that it was she. She was older, of course, her beauty matured into something softer than he remembered, but still she was exceptionally lovely, her smile as warm and loving as it had always been. Overwhelmed by a sudden surge of emotion, he strode to meet her, sweeping her into his arms in a hug that made her breathless. His throat tightened and he felt the sting of unmanly tears. ‘My dearest Mother! It is so long since we have seen each other, though you have oft been in my thoughts. But how came you so quickly?’
‘Marguerite was about to make the journey to London and when I received your message, I decided at once to accompany her. I could not miss this chance to see you, Alain, and to bring the help you requested of me. We have lost no time upon our journey, for your letter sounded urgent.’
‘I bless you for your promptness, Mother, for I have sore need of you.’
‘My beloved son,’ the Lady Alayne said, tears of happiness at seeing him again streaming down her face unashamedly. ‘It is three years since we have heard aught of you and we feared the worst.’