Sword of Forgiveness (Winds of Change Book 1)

by Debbie Lynne Costello

  He glared at Daffydd. “You should have returned immediately and told me.”

  Daffydd drew himself up. “I could not leave milady, for fear of their return, and I could not take her from Murielle’s side until she died.”

  Royce rubbed his jaw, weighing Daffydd’s words. “Aye, you did right. ’Tis the frustration of knowing I nearly had Edmond.” He turned. “You may take your leave.”

  Royce paced the floor. How could he look Brithwin in the eye and tell her he’d let those murderers escape? He pushed open the door to their room and to where Brithwin sat wrapped in a blanket, staring at the floor.

  “You may go, Elspeth.” Royce knelt before Brithwin’s chair and gently took her hands, bringing them to his lips. Anguish twisted his heart as he crouched before her. What he would give to take her pain. With his lips pressed against her skin, he lifted his gaze to meet with hers. Pain and sorrow etched every feature.

  He raised one hand and stroked her cheek. “Ah, love, is there nothing I can do to help you with this ache?”

  He wished she would cry. The simple act would free her and help release her pain.

  She drew in a deep breath and shuddered as she let it out. “Will you hold me?” A tear slipped down her cheek and she brushed it away.

  Royce lifted her and laid her on the bed. Lowering himself next to her, he enfolded her in his arms, crooning words of comfort. Running his hands through her silky chestnut hair, he continued to whisper until she drifted to sleep. He lay there, waiting for her breathing to steady. His mind would not rest. He could think of nothing but the cause of her anguish—and bringing Edmond to justice. Slipping his arm from under her, he slid off the bed.

  “Please don’t leave me,” Brithwin’s voice broke the silence of the night.

  The pleading tone in her voice drew him back. Sinking next to her, he pulled her close. “I am here, love. I won’t go anywhere.”

  As dawn broke the next morning, Royce remained beside the bed gazing at Brithwin while she slept. Her suffering tore at his heart. She needed him, and he would be here for her. Bending over, he brushed the hair from her face then gently kissed her forehead. He would send his men to retrieve the bodies from the crofter’s cottage.

  “I love you,” he whispered and strode from the room, attempting to keep his boots from clunking on the floor and waking her.

  †††

  The small room adjoining the great hall held the injured man. Royce gazed out the window as Marjory tended her patient. His men had found the man lying on the ground near the crofter’s cottage a few hours earlier while retrieving the bodies. He’d taken a beating, but it was obvious his attackers hadn’t planned to kill him. Something didn’t feel right.

  Jarren stepped inside the room and glanced around. “How does he fare?”

  Royce spun around and waited, with Jarren, for Marjory’s response.

  She pulled the blanket around the man’s chest and raised her head. “He has not stirred. No broken bones, but it looks as if someone hit him over the head and not gently. I would guess it is what ended the fight.”

  Royce waited as Marjory let herself out of the room then made his way to the bed. “Humph. A fight?” He picked up the man’s hand, which dangled off the side, and examined it. Laying it down, he frowned and picked up the other hand to inspect.

  Jarren leaned forward. “Something amiss?”

  Royce rubbed his neck. His gut, along with his eyes, cautioned him something wasn’t right. “What think you of a man who has taken this type of beating yet does not have a scratch on his hands?”

  Jarren frowned. “No defense wounds? You mean to say, he did not attempt to protect himself?”

  “I checked both hands. They are about the only parts of him that are not black and blue. Few men would not fight back.”

  Jarren shrugged. “It is possible they held him while they beat him.”

  “Aye, possible, but there was no bruising to indicate that nor signs his wrists had been tied. Think you he would get one or two swings in somehow. If luck be on my side, he will recover quickly enough that I can get answers on the morrow.”

  A light thumping sounded on the door.

  “Enter.” Royce moved away from the bed.

  Pater leaned his head in. “Is the man conscious that I may pray with him?”

  Royce glanced at the sleeping man. “Nay, he is not.”

  Pater nodded and pulled the heavy wood door shut.

  Jarren scratched his jaw while eyeing the door. “Why does he not leave Hawkwood? Does he have no family or place to go?”

  “I don’t know why he stays. Perhaps because there is still persecution of Lollards, but I have a feeling it is something more than that.”

  Royce and Jarren left the patient’s room. The light shone through the windows in the great hall. He doused the torch next to the room. Today the man needed rest, but on the morrow he would get answers.

  †††

  Brithwin woke with the rays of sunshine slicing across her covers. She rolled to her side and placed her palm on the bed where Royce’s head had lain. It was cold. Staring at her hand, she recalled the sweet words of comfort Royce had spoken to her yestereve. The reason for those words flooded her mind. She rolled to her back, throwing her arm over her eyes.

  A light tapping on the door brought her out of her morose thoughts. “You may enter.”

  Elspeth stepped in. “Milady, are you ready to break your fast?”

  “Nay, I cannot eat, but you may help me dress.”

  “My lord left instructions to see that you ate. He knew you would not wish to. You must keep your strength up.”

  Brithwin lowered her arm from her eyes and squinted. “I will be fine.”

  Elspeth’s gown rustled as she moved forward. “You are under much stress, and he does not want you to fall ill.”

  “I truly do not feel like eating.” She swung her feet off the bed and onto the floor.

  “My lord worries and had planned to come himself, but his men returned with an injured man. He sent me in his stead. Maybe you can eat a little and keep me out of trouble?”

  Brithwin slapped her hand over her mouth and ran to the chamber pot. Beads of perspiration formed on her forehead as her stomach convulsed and heaved. Rolling back on her heels, she panted, waiting for the dizziness to subside.

  Elspeth rushed forward and brushed Brithwin’s face with a cloth that she kept with her wash basin. “I thought you just made excuses, but I see you do not feel well.” She helped her to her feet. “Come, get back to your bed.”

  Brithwin shook her head. The room spun and she clasped hold of Elspeth. “Help me to the chair. I am sure this will pass in a moment. ’Tis all that has happened has my belly upset. I need to sit quiet.”

  “I will fetch you bread. That is good to settle the belly.” Elspeth disappeared out the door.

  Brithwin’s stomach settled shortly after nibbling a few bites of bread. She moved to the table, leaned over the bowl, and splashed water on her face. The cold air hit her wet skin, refreshing her. She dabbed her face dry. Elspeth helped her dress, and then Brithwin sought her garden.

  Strolling down the path, she took note of the new growth. The rain had given the plants firm roots. She longed to see her flowers in full color. Murielle had cherished the blooms she took to her each summer.

  “Excuse me, milady.” Thomas’s voice brought her from her thoughts.

  She launched herself into his arms. Thomas patted her back. “There, there, Lady Brithwin. This sadness will pass.”

  Brithwin squeezed her eyes shut. “It will never be the same.”

  Pater’s voice came from beyond Thomas. “You must lean on the Lord.”

  Brithwin swung around to see Pater saunter forward. She drew herself upright and dabbed at her eyes with her fingers.

  “’Tis so hard at times. It makes me angry, Pater. He took people away from me that I cared for.”

  Pater stopped in front of her. “We live in the worl
d, and evil is about us. ’Tis not the Lord who took your friends from you. You must not blame God. His Word tells us,' It is appointed unto man once to die and then the judgment.' No one escapes death.”

  “Why a horrible death, though? Why did God allow that?” She leaned her head against Thomas’s chest again, and his arms tightened around her.

  Pater moved to her side, gesturing with his palms up. “I do not pretend to know the mind of God, my child. You must accept it and know they are in a better place, for they loved the Lord and served Him well.”

  Thomas stepped away and glanced from Pater to Brithwin. “I came to speak with you about burying Guy, Murielle, and Malcolm.” He cleared his throat. “They dig their graves as we speak. Lord Rosen Craig would have them buried on the morrow.”

  Brithwin didn’t want the day to end. Placing her friends in the ground put finality to their death and the promise she would never see them again. But the day wore on, evening fell, and before she was ready, morning had come.

  It was early when they lowered her beloved friends in the ground. She leaned against Royce for support. Pinpricks burned her eyes, the tears begging release. With determination, she swallowed and shut her eyes. Tears would accomplish nothing, and she willed them away. Finally able to open her eyes and keep control, she looked beyond the graves to the trees budding, giving new life. A new life, just as her dear friends now had.

  †††

  Edmond kicked the dirt with his boot. Royce would be on alert. He would have to be careful to stay off Hawkwood land for a few days. “You would have stopped me?”

  Robert glared at him. “That was a foolish thing to do.”

  Edmond shoved him backward. “Do not gainsay me again if you wish to live another day. Ye are overconfident if you think to tell me what I can and cannot do.”

  “I did not like the way you sent Montfort to Lor—to Royce in the first place, but now you have given him more reason to question things. Your overconfidence will only increase his anger. ’Tis like you provoke him deliberately. What were you thinking, having Montfort feed him information?”

  Edmond spat on the ground. “You are not the one who had his life snatched from him. Rosen Craig should have been mine! I will never forget what our worthless king stole from my family. That estate should be mine, not Royce’s, had it not been ripped from my father’s hand by Richard. And the title of Earl would be mine, now, instead of Royce’s. My father lost everything, including my mother. She could not endure the hardships she faced. She became ill and never recovered. My father killed himself trying to gain favor with the king.”

  Edmond swung his fist up and thrust his thumb to his chest. “I vowed, when my father died, I would make them pay for what they had denied him and me. Royce grew up with everything that should have been mine. I was born in that castle. Do you have any idea what it feels like to have all you have known ripped from you—knowing every day someone else is living your life?”

  Robert frowned. “I don’t see what this has to do with Montfort.”

  “I have a plan to obtain Rosen Craig, and I have a means to achieve it. Important news has come to me, and I intend to use it to its fullest.”

  “What is this information?”

  Edmond narrowed his eyes and punched his finger into Robert’s chest. “I will tell you this much—everything of Royce’s will be mine, including his wife.”

  Chapter 21

  Royce wrapped his arm around Brithwin’s shoulders and pulled her close. Tremors racked her body as they lowered her friends into the ground. Wrinkles creased her forehead even as she had slept this morning. He gave a gentle squeeze on her shoulder. She raised her head to meet his gaze. She was pale as a frog’s belly. Dark circles surrounded her lusterless blue eyes, and sorrow etched her face with thin lines. His gut twisted—she looked sick. He lightly kissed her forehead. Heaven knew how much he loved this woman.

  Her eyes filled with tears before she managed to conquer what he was sure she saw as a weakness. A hot flood surged through him. Edmond had caused her this pain. He would pay for every tear she withheld.

  They returned to the manor after the last shovel of dirt fell on the graves. Brithwin spoke not a word, and now, as they sat before their midday meal, she continued her silence.

  Royce looked at her untouched food. “You are not eating.”

  Brithwin pushed her trencher away. “The very sight of food causes my belly to rebel.”

  Royce moved her food back. “You look tired. You must eat and keep up your strength.”

  Brithwin turned away from her meal. “Has the man you found spoken of why Edmond did this?”

  “Nay. He still sleeps. However, I have dealt with Edmond nigh on to as many years as you are old. He has a strong hatred for me, and it seems because of it other people suffer.”

  “God gives each of us free choice—you cannot blame yourself for what another does.” Brithwin shuddered. “I do not understand why he would do this horrible thing to an old couple and a simple man.”

  Royce’s fists tightened, his nails digging into his palms. “He murdered people on my land, people I am responsible for, to send a message to me. Edmond understands me well enough to know I will not sit idly by although he could not have known how deeply this would affect me and mine. The time has come to put a stop to his machinations.”

  †††

  Royce sat opposite a chess board from Jarren, his hand on his bishop. “Would you like me to make this quick and painless?”

  Jarren tapped his fingers on the table. “Make your move.”

  Royce pushed his piece to its new square and leaned back in his chair. “I’m ready to get answers from our guest.”

  “So, that is what we are calling him?” Jarren moved his knight to protect his king and threaten Royce’s queen.

  “For the time being.” Royce slid his rook across the board.

  Jarren stared at the chess pieces. “You sure you want to do that?”

  “Aye.”

  Jarren shrugged, swiped up Royce’s queen, and placed his knight on the square. “When do we talk to our guest?”

  Royce’s gaze rose from the table, and he smiled as he moved his pawn up a space. “Now. I believe that is checkmate.”

  Jarren blinked and shook his head. “Finished off by a lowly pawn.”

  Standing from his chair, Royce let his smile fade. “A lesson I learned early in life. Even those things that look innocent cannot always be trusted.”

  Jarren followed him to the patient’s room. He entered to find Marjory tending the injured man.

  Royce sauntered to the bed. “Is there any improvement?”

  “He woke during the night from thirst. He has yet to rouse this morning.”

  As if her words bid him to wake, the knight opened his eyes. His voice cracked. “Water.”

  She scurried over and held a cup to his lips. He gulped the liquid then fell back from the effort.

  Jarren moved to the wall and leaned against it.

  Royce handed Marjory her basket of herbs. “You may leave.”

  When the door closed behind her, Royce turned to the beaten knight. “What is your name?”

  “Montfort,” his voice rasped.

  “Montfort, what are you doing on my land?”

  Wariness shone in the man’s eyes. He surveyed both Royce and Jarren. “I was only passing through.”

  Royce leaned down and scowled. “To where are you traveling?”

  The knight turned his head away and winced. “I have no destination.”

  “You mean you wander aimlessly, or perhaps you are a brigand looking to prey on my people?”

  “Nay!” He rolled his head toward Royce. “I am a knight.”

  Royce straightened and crossed the room, closing the distance. “You are a mercenary?”

  “I look for honest work as a knight.”

  “Do you know who did this to you?”

  Montfort moaned as he pushed himself onto his elbows. “His name wa
s Edmond. I am to give a message to Royce. Are you him?”

  Royce eyed him for deception. “I am. What is this message?”

  “He said to tell you, Rosen Craig will soon be his, including all you hold dear. He will do the same to anyone who gets in his way as he did to the old couple in the cottage.”

  Royce ground his teeth together and a knot formed in his gut. He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly to keep control. “Where is Edmond?”

  Montfort shook his head and flinched. “That is not all. He said to ask if you missed your family, and to tell you that you will be joining them soon. As to where he is, I know not. It was not long after our discussion that I lost consciousness.”

  Royce walked out of the small room with every muscle tense and on fire. Jarren came out after him.

  “What think you, Royce?”

  “Edmond goads me. He wants me to come after him.”

  Jarren narrowed his eyes. “Then you believe Montfort?”

  “I have no doubt he speaks the truth, but I trust him not. He has no anger. If someone left me beaten on a road and gave me a message to give another, I would want to know what that man did to warrant my beating in order to deliver a message. He also did not seem curious as to why I would miss my family and why I would be meeting them again soon. Methinks he accepts his plight too easily. If he is not one of Edmond’s men, then he has been paid well to deliver the message—and I wager he knows more than he tells.”

  “What do we do with him when he recovers? He is a knight. We cannot imprison him without cause.”

  Royce flexed his hands. “We will set a guard on him. If Edmond plans something, ’tis important for me to see my defense is strong and my people safe. We need to travel to Rosen Craig.”

  Soft footsteps padded behind him. Royce turned. Brithwin’s weary smile greeted him. His heart twisted at leaving her.

  She drew near, and he laid his hand on her arm. “Brithwin, love, I have to go to Rosen Craig and see to the defenses.”

  She raised her eyes to his. “When do we leave?”

  “’Tis I that must go. You will remain here.”