Soothingly Labren ushered his Eve into the wagon.
Much later, he lay on his side watching her sleep. As he watched the rise and fall of her shoulders, he wondered at the swiftness his job of cherishing and protecting his wife had changed from duty to delight. She was an amazing woman. A strange combination of intelligence, caring, and stubbornness, she constantly surprised him with her strength. He glimpsed her immobilized by fear. The same fear, until tonight, distanced her from him. How ironic she clung to him for comfort and protection. He hoped she would trust him more now.
Adjusting his pillow and turning to his other side, he settled his aching limbs into a better position. He rubbed his injured thigh. As exhaustion claimed the last of his tired thoughts, he grew dimly aware of Eve curling her small warmth against his back. For the first night in almost thirteen years, his sleep was dreamless.
The next morning Labren woke to the sounds of camp breaking. Thankfully Eve still slept. He extracted himself from bed and dressed. By the time he swung down, the women around them were up to their elbows in the morning’s dishes and the men occupied preparing their horses.
Finding Ulysses took him ten minutes.
“Ulysses,” he said as he approached the wagon of a young family with a pretty daughter. The boy turned from flirting to grimace at Labren.
“What?”
“I have business with you.”
“What business could you have with me?” His tone oozed confident bravo for the benefit of his audience. The girl watched doe-eyed. “You broke off with my father, as I understand.”
“I did. The issue isn’t with him. It is with you. You assaulted my wife.”
“She asked for it.”
A harsh laugh tore from Labren’s throat. “She didn’t.”
“Don’t be so sure, old man. Just because she is married to you, you think she is dead to the charms of men her own age.” Ulysses ran a hand through his long hair and looked pointedly at Labren’s weaker leg. “She needed a real man, someone who doesn’t need to be waited on or assisted in and out of a wagon.”
“I will only warn you once. Prepare to defend yourself.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” Ulysses presented his back.
Labren didn’t pause a second. He stepped forward, grabbed the young man’s shoulder, and let his fist fly. It collided with the boy’s jaw with a satisfying crack.
The girl screamed.
“See here.” Her father protested as he rounded the wagon.
Ignoring them both, Labren applied his second fist. Pain sluiced up his arm, but he bore it. The boy wavered before sitting heavily in the dirt. Blood dripped from his broken nose and off his chin. He stared up at Labren in shock.
“I told you once to leave Eve alone. That should have been enough.” Satisfied, Labren limped away with the sound of Ulysses’ angry howl in his ears.
“Move out!” the wagon master called from the front of the line. The caravan began to roll. Labren glanced over his shoulder in time to catch the young woman’s father rushing her away. Within moments their wagon joined the formation. Ulysses, still nursing his oozing face, scrambled after them.
Labren returned to his wagon. Isolated in the barren expanse of an abandoned camp, he savored the overwhelming wave of relief. His leg throbbed and his arm screamed, but Eve was safe again.
They needed to start soon to reach the school before dark. Considering and rejecting the idea of waking Eve, he decided to prepare breakfast. He would save Eve the work and get them moving faster once she woke. Besides he needed to work off the adrenaline high thrumming through him.
Eve opened her eyes to yellow brightness. Morning sunshine touched the canvas above her face. She stared at the ceiling for a moment. Then it occurred to her that she had overslept. Before she could wonder why Labren did not wake her, he climbed between the flaps.
“Oh, good.” He stood to his full height in the center of the wagon and smiled down at her. “Glad you are awake. I wanted to ask where the kettle is. The fire is perfect for boiling water, and I need a large cup of moracca.”
Eve pointed out the beaten copper pot. He disappeared, and she hurried out of bed and into her clothes. She rushed to pack away their bedding, silently scolding herself for sleeping late the whole while. As she grabbed her wraps, she wondered why she didn’t hear the other wagoneers or their animals.
When she straightened from her jump to the ground, she realized the reason for the silence. They were nowhere to be seen. Swallowing a sudden panicky feeling, she turned toward the reassuring sight of the breakfast fire and her husband.
“They left at dawn.” Labren fixed his attention on the oatmeal as he poured it into their wooden bowls. “We were leaving their company soon anyway. I figured it best if we parted sooner than planned.” He looked up briefly as he handed her the steaming bowl. “I settled accounts with the wagon master last night. I dealt with the loose ends this morning.”
When Eve did not comment, Labren paused in his movement, spoon suspended. “I did not realize until now that I had not discussed any of my plans with you.”
He resumed stirring his breakfast. Eve stole a peek at him and then at the fire. The kettle threatened to overflow. The mouthful on her spoon went in her mouth. She hurriedly set down her bowl and reached for the black handle of the kettle.
Labren started a bit in surprise at her sudden movement. He watched while she finished rescuing his moracca.
“Do you want some?” she asked. Their eyes met and Eve read conflict in his. He held out his mug and she filled it. “You know our destination. I am going with you, so why do you need to ask me?”
“Eve.” His voice shook. “You are my spouse, not my slave.” He continued haltingly as she returned the kettle to its place and picked up her oatmeal. “Freedom means you should have some say in where you go or stay. Sorry I have been treating you like a servant.”
Eve prepared to protest, but changed her mind and returned to her porridge. Labren perceived marriage differently than most men. The few couples she witnessed seemed to portray the role of the wife as a glorified slave. She wanted to please Labren and the best way at the moment was to listen to his plans. She did not point out the fact she possessed no other choice.
“What is the plan?” Her question seemed to startle him out of his thoughts.
“Before the events yesterevening...” He started to clean up as he spoke. “I planned for us to separate from the caravan this afternoon. My wounds have not been doing very well lately. And, I was beginning to second guess the wisdom of continuing over the mountains this late in the year.
“Instead we are going to turn off and seek shelter for the winter at a school I know of. The headmaster is a friend and I think I can convince him to let me work there for the winter.”
He reached for Eve’s bowl, but she shook her head. “I will finish up.”
He willingly handed her the wash rag and moved off toward the wagon. He worked on hitching the horses. Eve threw out the dishwater and tucked the pot under the canvas behind the bench. Then she waited for Labren.
He paused after settling himself on the hard wood of the seat. “I want you to know Ulysses will never approach another man’s wife without thinking twice.” She did not ask for an explanation and he did not offer one. She was just thankful that he was not injured, and she did not have to encounter Ulysses again.
~~~
Chapter III
The shelter of trees ended abruptly. Ice flecks masquerading as snowflakes bit into Eve’s face while the wind froze her already cold nose. The violent gusts blew across the road, blinding them with a sheet of white.
“Almost there. This is the property line. Only another mile to the house,” Labren yelled above the screaming wind.
Eve raised her head and peered ahead. Snow whipped sideways in the frigid wind. The horses’ tails disappeared in the haze of heaving white. She ducked her face back down into her scarf. A rush of fear carried her stomach into her throat.
A castle-like manor, an exclusive school for the nobility and future leaders of the world, the images summoned by Labren’s partial descriptions did not comfort her. The storm interrupted their conversation hours ago. Now he devoted all of his attentions and waning energy keeping them on the road. Eve struggled to dwell on encouraging thoughts of a warm fire, hot food, and dry clothes. A lump formed in her throat.
A huge gray-black structure loomed vaguely through the constantly changing mass of the snow. Even when they pulled to a stop near the door, Eve could not make out much of the building beyond the meager shelter of the porch.
She glanced over at Labren and all fears of who might be inside vanished. He clumsily wrapped the reins around their hook and began a slow climb down. Eve rushed to beat him to the ground, but she was late reaching his side. He rested for a moment leaning against the side of the wagon.
“I can knock,” she offered.
Waving her away, he hobbled toward the door. He pulled on the cord to announce their arrival and then sagged against the wall beyond. Eve moved quickly to his side. He welcomed her offered support with a grimace of pain when she moved his arm to her shoulders.
She looked up at his face. “What hurts?”
He had not answered when the door opened. Immediately a woman drew them inside and closed the door firmly behind them. Eve began to gather her bearings when someone exclaimed, “Trahern!” Labren’s leg gave out and Eve put all her effort to keeping him off the floor.
A tall young man came toward them from across the large hall. Eve looked up at him pleadingly, not managing to form the words to ask for help. Labren’s full weight began to settle against her as his consciousness wavered. The man sprinted the last steps, catching Labren’s snow-covered shoulder as he sagged forward.
“Get the Professor.”
The middle-aged woman hurried away. Eve searched desperately for a chair. Her helper smoothly reached out his foot and pulled the nearest chair to where they could deposit Labren in it.
“Abrigail will fetch the Professor. He will know what to do. Where does it hurt?” The question was directed at Labren.
Labren hunched over. Eve feared for a moment that he lost his hold on awareness. She knelt on the floor at his feet so she could see his face. Even in the shadows, she could make out the tautness of his mouth and his tightly closed eyes. She reached up to push his hair back so she could see him better. He caught her hand and held it tightly.
“Am I hallucinating again?” he asked hoarsely, the words barely discernable. She hesitated, not sure how to answer.
“What hurts?”
“Everything.” His voice again rasped weakly. She moved her free hand to his leg. The young man knelt next her as she began to try to loosen his boot with one hand.
“Here let me.” The man’s warmer fingers made quick work of the laces.
“He was wounded about two months ago.” Eve informed him as he worked. The man nodded his head in acknowledgment. He drew the boot off slowly. Eve did not try to remove her hand from Labren’s grasp even though he tightened it painfully. “Please be gentle.” She meant to caution the stranger, but Labren loosened his grip on her fingers.
With a steady care, the foot emerged from the boot. Dimly aware of the sounds of others arriving, Eve flinched at Labren’s cry of pain.
“He needs to be moved to a bedroom.” A new voice cut through Eve’s concentration. A pair of new, large hands guided her to her feet and three men joined the first.
With swiftness and grace, the four of them lifted Labren. Then without a word, they hauled him in the direction of the sweeping staircase to the second floor. Somehow in the shuffle, Labren lost hold of her hand. Abrigail intervened instead, restraining her by the arm.
“You look beat, child. Come let me help you out of those wet things.”
Eve let her take the cloak, but she refused to be drawn down the hall.
“I must go with my husband.”
Abrigail dropped her grasp on Eve’s arm with a harsh gasp. Ignoring the woman’s obvious shock, Eve bolted for the base of the stairs. Labren’s escort was just disappearing at the top. Her mad dash gained her half the flight before she encountered a young man coming down.
“He is calling for an Eve.” The dark skinned lad’s striking blue eyes studied her face for a moment. “Are you Eve?”
“Yes.”
He stepped aside. “I will show you where.”
Relieved, Eve followed him up the stairs and down the hall. The first door on the left side of the second hallway stood open. She entered only to be confronted by Labren’s escort. All four men looked at her curiously, but none of them moved to restrain her.
“Where is Eve?” The distress in Labren’s voice made her heart ache. He lay on a huge bed that dominated the far wall. Ignoring the formidable looking crowd in the room, Eve strode straight to his side and claimed his hand.
“I am here.” His long, cold fingers closed around hers like a vise. The trust in his eyes gave her the strength to turn and face the silent watchers. “I will need boiling water, clean bandages, and some quilts.” Her voice shook. Thankfully the man that had helped them earlier quickly dispatched the youngest two boys to fetch her supplies.
“If you describe what is wrong, perhaps I can help.” An older gentleman met her questioning glance with a warm smile. His wise, sharp scrutiny and air of calm confidence and warmth soothed her fear a bit.
Labren squeezed her hand. “Trust them, Eve.” She obeyed and stepped away from the bed.
The man leaned over Labren, flashing a warm smile Eve’s way. “My students and friends call me Professor Olof.” His hands touched Labren’s forehead. “You are…?”
“Eve.”
He nodded. “Han, I will need your assistance undressing him. The rest of you may leave.” Despite the fact his voice never rose above the even timber of private conversation, the room cleared before Eve could protest the man’s intent.
“But…” She struggled to form the words. The room swam. Her heart pounded in her chest.
Professor Olof paused in his examination of Labren to study her face. “Han, perhaps a chair for Eve would be wise. I am not sure she will remain standing much longer.”
Eve’s knees wobbled. “Deep breaths, miss,” Han coached as he slipped the chair under her legs. “Trahern will be just fine. Leave him to the Professor.”
“But…”
Han leaned down and took her hand. “Concentrate on calming down,” he instructed. “You can watch everything from here. Trahern needs you well. It won’t help if you faint.”
Eve agreed, but she carefully retracted her fingers from his grasp.
“Healing hampered by exhaustion.” Professor Olof straightened to his full height. “How long has it been since the first injury?”
“About a month,” Eve said.
A crease appeared between his thick eyebrows. “I would have expected more signs of healing.” Labren stirred on the bed and muttered something Eve couldn’t hear. Apparently Professor Olof did. “Intense travel.” His brow raised. “That would definitely slow healing. I assume very little rest was involved.”
Labren answered again.
“Then I think you should thank your lovely wife for the fact you still have all your limbs. Sleep now. We can discuss the rest tomorrow. I assume you will need assistance undressing and I doubt Eve will be up for the task. For her sake let Han assist you.” Professor Olof came around the end of the bed and approached her as Han took his place at Labren’s side. “Now for you.”
Eve eyed him warily. “I am fine.”
“Hardly, child. You are pale as the snow outside and your hands are shaking. When did you last eat?” He probed her wrist with long worn fingers.
“This morning but…”
“Shh…” he admonished. Tilting his head to the side as though listening for her pulse, his lips moved, breathing the counts as her blood pulsed beneath his cool fingers. Then dropping her hand, he caught
her face between his hands and studied her features, running fingers down her cheeks to check the whites of her eyes.
“Hmm… A bit undernourished, but we can fix that soon enough. Food, bed, and we will catch up on explanations tomorrow.” He straightened with a dismissive grunt and turned to Han. “I will send up food, but see they go to bed right after eating.”
Eve obediently ate a silent meal, but Labren couldn’t manage more than a bite before falling asleep. Before Han cleared away the meal, Eve had joined Labren on the bed. She snuggled against his overwarm body, too weary to care that there was another in the room. Oblivion came before the door closed.
Slowly Eve awoke. It took her a few moments to remember why she could not hear the wind or the sounds of a waking camp. Instead time moved to Labren’s steady breathing. Images of the stressful night before jumped before her mind’s eye. Resisting the urge to move and check Labren’s temperature, Eve instead placed her hand over his where it encircled her waist.
Labren shifted slightly bringing Eve’s thoughts back to the present.
“You awake?” His voice rasped with sleep.
“Yes.”
He tightened his arm around her waist.
“I thought you were still sleeping,” she explained.
“I wish.” He released a sigh laced with sadness. “I need to tell you some things about my past before you find them out from a different source.”
Eve sat up to give him distance. Somehow she knew this would require her undivided attention. Labren rolled onto his back and looked up at her before continuing.
“My real full name is Trahern Marcus Theodoric. I am the eldest son of the King of Anavrea.”
A prince? The thought rested against her mind, too foreign to sink beneath the surface.
Pushing himself up onto his elbows, he began to swing his legs off the bed. “This,” he gestured to the room and implied the entire building, “is the school where I spent my winters from right after I turned ten until my twentieth birthday.”
The Crown of Anavrea (The Theodoric Saga) Page 4