Bound to the Warrior

by Barbara Phinney

  “’Tis not true! He’s a fine lord who—”

  The man smacked his hand on the stonework, making her jump. “Do not insult me! Did he not come up here just now? I can smell his stench on you. You betray your own people!”

  She felt the heat rise into her face and shimmied up another tread. Her hip ached. As if he could see in the blackness, her assailant followed her up.

  “You will kill him. Before those at Ely do.”

  “Why do you force this on me?”

  “Because you are the only one who can do it. Do not worry, milady, for the village will say nothing when his brother comes looking for him.”

  She shoved hard against the man and managed to shift him off her. He laughed, the cackle cutting through her, hoarse and broken. “Your midwife is dead, thanks to you. Who will be next? The young wife, Wynnth?”

  She gasped. Did he really kill the midwife? Would he...nay, not Wynnth! She had two small babes!

  A short whimper escaped her and she knew she had to stop this evil. She lunged at him with a screech, but, too late, she learned that he’d stepped to one side.

  She found herself toppling headfirst down the stairs.

  * * *

  Adrien released a sigh of thankfulness as Ediva’s eyes fluttered open. He’d feared she’d never awaken. A servant had found her at the bottom of the stairs and called to him immediately. His heart had nearly stopped at the sight of her crumpled body.

  He gently carried her no farther than his own chamber. After he ordered extra furs for the pallet, he lay her bruised form down as tenderly as possible.

  She’d moaned and shifted her legs. Although he cringed, he’d sent up a prayer of thanks. Her movement meant she wasn’t paralyzed. He’d heard of men injured on the battlefield, struck on the head or spine and unable to walk. They’d died slow, agonizing deaths.

  He also ordered her pillow be brought down. And when it arrived, he adjusted it to support her shoulders, all the while setting her braids neatly down her prone form.

  “Ediva?” he asked gently. “Can you hear me?”

  She blinked, as if bringing him into focus. One look at him and she burst into tears. He tried to pull her close, but she cried out. “Nay, I ache all over!”

  “Of course,” he said, berating his foolishness. “You fell down the stairs.”

  “’Twas dark. The torch...”

  “The torch is lit again. It went out.”

  She looked around the room with confusion. “How did I get here?”

  “I brought you in. I didn’t want to risk more injuries by carrying to your solar.”

  “How long have I been here?”

  “Only as long as it took your maid to fetch your bedding. I’ve sent them off again for cold water and cloths.”

  She gasped. “How long was I at the bottom of the stair?”

  “It couldn’t have been more than a few moments. I was there not long before.”

  She grabbed his arm. “He might still be here! You must find him!”

  “Find who?” He sat back in shock. “Did someone push you?”

  “Aye! A man.” She shook her head. “You must—”

  He flew out of his chamber. The first person he spied was young Harry, who’d sat himself down along the wall, his face pinched with worry. The boy scrambled to his feet when the door opened.

  “Get me the sergeant! And seal the gate! No one leaves nor enters this keep!”

  Harry bolted away. Adrien ordered a young soldier who’d come at the sound of shouting to guard the door. Then he stalked straight to the armory to find a more suitable blade. His own ’twas best when mounted. A shorter Saxon blade was better when on foot.

  The sword firmly in hand, he charged back to the chamber. His sergeant was already waiting at the door to his chamber.

  “Lady Ediva has been attacked. I want the keep emptied top to bottom, except for your most trustworthy man to guard this door. Line everyone else up outside. Now!”

  Behind him, the door opened. Ediva stepped out. “Adrien! You must listen to me—”

  Shocked yet relieved she could stand, he barked at her, “Stay inside! You’re safe there, Ediva.”

  “But how safe are you?”

  Disgusted, he scooped her up and set her back on the bed. “I’ll be fine. I’ll return shortly.” He stalked out, shutting the door firmly behind him.

  * * *

  Ediva jumped as the door slammed. She dare not chase him, for she’d discovered that her body ached with even the slightest movement and moving to the door had been pure agony.

  And her stomach churned like a waterwheel in spring. She swallowed the taste of rising bile as she pressed her head against her pillow. Adrien was gone to find her attacker, an unknown man. How would he even recognize him?

  What would happen if that man felt threatened? Would he run Adrien through should he turn his back? Geoffrey’s warning returned to her. Saxons wanted him dead.

  A sob rose in her. She shut her eyes tight against the tears and pressed her hand to her mouth to keep from crying out loud.

  Her heart twisted for peace. Her attacker could easily kill again.

  Kill who? A tenant who’d trusted her with his or her very life? She’d fought so hard to protect her people, to help them and care for them. Was it possible that one of them truly hated her that much, simply for marrying a Norman? Slowly, she realized something. Her attacker could never forgive her for betraying her people with her marriage. As she could never forgive Ganute.

  Lord Jesus, what should I do? Help me forgive.

  She stared up at the ceiling, the walls catching what little light angled in through the slit windows, all the while recalling to her mind the chapel’s mural with its compassionate faces and open arms. The subtle offer of help.

  She’d been burdened by hatred and unforgiveness for far too long. She could now see what the hatred did.

  To her, and to her attacker, too. Many of the villagers thought she’d married Adrien willingly, and some of them must hate her for what appeared to be a betrayal.

  So how could she expect forgiveness from them, while not forgiving Ganute?

  Adrien had offered her a solution. Adrien! She sat up. The keep was quiet. She stood, grimacing at her aches.

  Lord Jesus, protect him.

  A small measure of peace settled on her. ’Twasn’t any great strike, just a seed within her. And it comforted her.

  She stepped tenderly toward the door and opened it a crack. The corridor was dim and quiet, the guard staring down it to the keep’s open door and the men formed up outside.

  Adrien stood in front, with his sergeant and Geoffrey accounting for each man. She breathed a sigh of relief. Beyond him, several guards stood by the closed bailey gate.

  A commotion started. Someone was being dragged out by one of the soldiers. ’Twas Rypan. He tripped and fell before being hauled up by the shoulders to stand in the ranks of servants. He stood, hunched with fear.

  Ediva gripped the door as she carefully scanned the backs of those she could see. Her attacker had worn rough, damp wool, easy to discard. All who stood there wore light under tunics and braes. But she couldn’t see all of them, and Adrien would never allow her to inspect them.

  After quietly closing the door, she settled back on the bed. What would happen to the man should her husband find him? Adrien had flogged Olin for his vile act, and he barely knew Wynnth.

  A shudder rippled through her at the thought of what he might do to the man who had harmed her—and at the revenge the man might later take in return.

  * * *

  ’Twas dim when she awoke again. She could feel a gentle warmth emanating from a small brazier that had been brought in. On the hook above it, a lamp glowed a low, smoky flame.

&n
bsp; She looked around. Her stomach growled, and thirst parched her mouth as she realized how late it was. A body shifted on a low pallet beside her and, still aching, she peeked over the edge of the bed.

  Adrien. She recognized his strong, slim form. Her heart lurched with gladness at the sight of him dozing below her.

  Thank You, Lord, for protecting him.

  Again, she felt that seed of peace within her as she sank back onto the bed. I trust You, Lord. Please help me learn to forgive.

  “Ediva?”

  She peeked over the edge again. Adrien rose and adjusted the small metal lamp’s air tube to allow it to burn brighter.

  The light landed on him, warming his tanned skin to a burnished glow. He’d shed his outer tunic and stood beside his table with hands on hips and feet planted firmly on the stone floor. His dark hair caught the yellowy light, a wonderful gleam like of polished wood.

  He was so handsome, Ediva wondered if she wasn’t dreaming this moment. She allowed herself the pleasure of taking in every inch of him. His strong arms, his wide chest, his legs...that bore no bandages.

  She blinked. “Your leg isn’t bandaged. Did you have your stitches removed?”

  “Aye. They’d begun to itch. The wound is well-sealed now.”

  They sank into an uneasy silence until she could stand it now more. “Adrien, did you find him?”

  “Nay. All the men were working in groups. There were a few in the fields with the animals, but they were too far away to have reached there so soon.”

  She fell back onto the pillow.

  “You didn’t see him?” he asked.

  “Nay. The torch had gone out. I smelled something strange, besides the smell of the wet wool he was wearing.”

  “Wool?” With dropped arms, he took a step closer. “Was it wet with sweat?”

  She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “There was a familiar smell, but I couldn’t say where I’d smelled it before.”

  He eased back as if her words disappointed him. “On the morrow we shall walk about to see if you can smell it again. Was it food?”

  “I hope not. ’Twas more sharp and foul.” She bit her lip. “Is it late?”

  “Aye. I ordered all tenants to their huts and a rotating guard around the keep. The men are not to leave the hall after dark. The women are in servants’ quarters behind the kitchen.”

  Throwing off the furs, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. She felt far better than she did earlier, despite the aches and hunger. Adrien had turned the keep into a fortress, but she wouldn’t complain. He did what he felt was proper.

  As she should. She should tell the truth. “Adrien, I fear I haven’t been fully honest with you.”

  He sat down beside her. “How so?”

  She cleared her throat. “I was attacked before.”

  He jerked forward. “Before! When?”

  “Do you remember the day when you found me with a sore throat? ’Twas because that man nearly throttled me, not because of a fever as I had led you to believe. He caught me in the stairwell.”

  He gaped at her, but his expression grew from shock to fury. She could see his fingers curl into fists.

  “What happened?” he bit out.

  “I was coming down the stairs, and a dog stopped me. It was quite angry and wouldn’t let me pass the last few steps. But I think it was growling at the man behind me.

  “Then the man grabbed my throat and I nearly passed out from lack of breath. He said I must kill you. And if I don’t, he’ll kill the tenants one at a time.”

  “He has attacked you twice!”

  She bit her lip. “I’m not sure. It almost felt as though there were two of them. But it couldn’t have been. He knew what he’d done before.” She rubbed her head.

  Adrien dragged his hand down his face. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  “I was going to. But then you told me that the midwife was dead, and your sergeant confirmed that she’d been killed. I thought it was the attacker, punishing me for not harming you. I was so scared!” She gripped the edge of the bed. “He threatened to kill more if I mentioned anything. These are my people, Adrien. When Ganute died, they worried they’d be killed by Normans or plundered as we were hearing other villages were. I promised them that I’d protect them.”

  “And I promised you I would.”

  “You weren’t here when I promised this.” She pulled in a deep breath. “There is more.”

  “More?” he fumed.

  “Geoffrey told me about some men starting to rise up against you, led by one man. They say that they’ll fight against you, especially when you leave for Ely.”

  “I can protect myself.”

  “It’s not that at all, Adrien. We don’t know who is behind this, and there are only so many strong Saxon men here. Geoffrey promised he’d find out, but even he believes these men have the right to defend their lands.”

  “Those who think that are fools. William won’t tolerate them. But I can protect this keep and village, even from the king. Do you not trust me on that?”

  “Can you truly protect us from the king?”

  “Aye. I’m not just a simple knight, Ediva. My brothers and I escorted William to safety years ago. William remembers that. He trusts me.”

  “But—”

  “But what, woman? Have I given you my word so you could treat it as if ’twere that of a child’s?”

  “You swear allegiance to a Norman king who has stolen my land! You allowed your brother to take away my tenants, save a few men and women. ’Tis hard to trust you! And if I find it hard, consider those who don’t know you. That man said if I told anyone, even you, he’d kill the villagers. I couldn’t allow that. They have no one.”

  “They have me.” He paused, and then his voice dropped so low she could barely hear it. “And I thought you also had me.”

  Adrien had tightened his jaw. But his eyes softened and showed not anger, only hurt. It cut her to the quick.

  She should apologize for her doubts. And tell him of her new faith. Her new faith! Did she really have new faith in God? Even that simple prayer in her head seemed to grow the seed of love within her. Adrien deserved to know this. And yet, his scowling hurt told her he wouldn’t listen right now.

  She deserved this pain. She’d hurt him.

  Snatching up her pillow, she fussed about the bed. “I should return to my solar. ’Tis not right to have the lord of the keep sleep on the floor.”

  He didn’t answer immediately. In the dimly lit room, his expression was unreadable, but she felt him tense.

  Finally, he held out his hand and helped her up. In his other hand he bore a short blade, one Ediva recognized from Ganute’s armory. The hilt was decorated with the family crest. “Aye, you should return to your solar.”

  Shivering despite the warmth in the room, she put her hand in his, marveling again at how gentle he could be. Instead of pulling her close as she’d hoped he would, he opened the door to find Harry asleep in front of it.

  “I’d ordered him into the hall,” Adrien growled, stepping forward.

  She touched his arm. “Let him sleep.”

  “He was worried for you.” With his foot, Adrien nudged the boy, who jumped up, startled. “Bring your lady’s maid to her solar. She needs her tonight.”

  Harry scampered away, and Adrien led Ediva to the stair. She hesitated. “Are the torches all lit?”

  “Aye. I ordered them to stay lit all night.”

  She stopped at the first tread. Beyond, in the hall beside Adrien’s private chamber, several men snored loudly. Other than that, all remained eerily quiet.

  She stared deep into the spiral that had only a flickering glow to welcome them. ’Twas hardly a welcome, considering how the torch had gone out
before.

  Lord, be with us.

  “Let me go first.” Adrien set her behind him and began the climb. With tender footsteps, she followed him up.

  “Adrien!”

  He turned.

  “Do you smell that?”

  He sniffed the air. “I smell the torches. Tallow stinks when it burns.”

  “Can’t you smell something sharp and tangy over the tallow? It’s so strong here.”

  She scanned the stairs and gasped. Between two torches, at the edge of one pool of light, something lay in a heap. Adrien lifted the torch nearest him from its mount. “What’s wrong?”

  “What’s that thing?”

  He handed her the torch and lifted up a long, dark cloth. “’Tis a wrap.” He leaned forward and sniffed it. “Ahh, I smell it now. ’Tis sharp like spirits. You have a good nose.”

  “Aye,” she whispered hoarsely. “My assailant smelled of this.”

  “He may have, but he also smelled like he didn’t know how to bathe. This wrap has never been washed, I’d wager.”

  “’Tis more than that, Adrien. I have smelled that smell before! But I can’t remember where. Do you recognize it?”

  He shook his head. “Not a smell I know.” He held the cloth up.

  She shrank away. “He wore that about his face.”

  “’Tis unfortunate that we hadn’t found this yesterday. I suspect that our cur was thirsty from the heat after covering his face. Had I known, I’d have watched the well or the pantry. Or I could have sniffed the line of men to locate him.”

  “Take it out of my sight, Adrien, please. ’Tis an awful thing to look at.”

  The sound of people approaching caused Adrien to drop the cloth and push past Ediva. He raised his sword slightly, but when Ediva’s maid hurried into the circle of torchlight, he lowered it.

  Margaret jumped and stepped back onto young Harry, who let out a small yelp.

  Adrien lowered his weapon, and ever cautious of it, Margaret stepped around it to take the torch.

  “Nay!” Adrien stepped forward. “Follow me.”

  The three followed him along the upper corridor. “Wait here,” he ordered them.

  Adrien threw open her solar door, and after a few minutes of searching, stood back and gestured the obedient group to come closer.