Broc rose and walked to the older men. With hands formed into fists, he stood before them. “Why did you let the boy suffer? If you could not help him, why did you not call for someone?”
One of the men stood. “He deserves to die.”
“Why?”
“He failed in his duty. The least he could do is die from the wound.”
Broc thrust the urge away to punch the man in the face. “What exactly did he fail at?”
“To protect the king. That boy is one of the king’s house carls. He should have died with the king instead of being taken for ransom. Most of the others died proudly beside their liege.”
Unable to contain his anger any longer, Broc went back to Wulf’s side. Wrapped in a blanket, the boy still shivered. He knew what had to be done to save him. He had to get him home.
With that decision, Broc picked up Wulf and carried him out of the tent. A few of the soldiers stared at him as he passed through the camp.
Broc turned at the sound of another’s footsteps behind him. Seeing it was William, he gently placed the boy on his cot and looked up at his visitor once they arrived at his tent.
“I could use your help. If you do not mind.”
William stepped to the cot and looked down at the boy. “He looks in rough shape. Is this the prisoner you took?”
“Aye. It seems I should have kept a closer eye on him. The healer did nothing to the wound but bandage it. I will not let him die.”
William raised a brow at Broc’s stricken tone. “He reminds you of the girl that much?”
“Aye.” Broc softly pushed the pale blond hair from Wulf’s brow. “Aye, he does, but right now, I must start the fight to save him. Can you take off his tunic while I go to the healer for the medicines I will need?”
“Go, I will help. He looks so young. He deserves to live a little longer.”
* * * *
Broc ran out of the tent to get what he needed. William took a closer look at the boy. He was very young. Not even a hint of a beard was on his cheeks. He had to admit the boy was handsome. Some would even call him beautiful. If Broc’s girl looked similar, then she would indeed be something a man would not forget.
William turned back to the task at hand, grabbed the hem of the tunic, and lifted. Underneath he encountered white strips of material that completely swathed the boy’s chest. He stopped and stared. All was obviously not what it seemed to be. He reached down to the space between Wulf’s legs.
As the girl stiffened in protest, he looked up to find two beautiful blue eyes staring back at him. “What is your real name?”
She answered barely above a whisper. “Ariel.”
“You are her. The girl Broc met in Elmstead?”
“Aye. Please do not tell him.”
“Why? He has not been able to get you off his mind.”
“There is more at stake than me telling him who I am.”
It did not take much deducing on William’s part to figure out why the girl wanted her secret kept. “A child. He left you with child.”
Ariel tried to prop herself up. “He must never know. He gave up that right when he walked away. He did not even bother to find out my name.” Ariel slumped back down. Her face had gone white from having to hold herself up. “Who are you?”
“William, your new king.” At Ariel’s shocked expression, he chuckled. “Broc is my friend, but I will not tell your secret. You will have to decide what to do about the child. You see, I just gave Elmstead to Broc. He will be living with you, closer than you would like, I suppose.”
“How could you? My father never fought against you.”
William shook his head. “I can because I am now king. Broc asked for Elmstead, so I gave it to him. You are lucky. He is a good man. He will not evict you from the land. In fact, I would strongly urge you to tell him who you are, then marry him. That way you will not lose your home.”
Ariel shook her head. As the last of her strength ran out, her eyes fluttered shut, and she slipped into unconsciousness.
Chapter Six
The first drops of rain fell shortly before darkness settled in. Broc kicked his horse into a canter. There definitely would be no stopping for rest. The rain would not help the boy’s condition.
Upon his return from the healer’s tent, Broc had been a little surprised by what he had found. William had sat on the cot with Wulf cradled against his chest. It almost seemed as if he protected the boy. Since the king had refused to release Wulf, Broc had had to work on Wulf’s shoulder while being held. William had intently watched him the whole time. Even William’s parting words had seemed strange. He had said there was more to the boy than met the eye. He advised Broc to look deeper. Whatever that meant.
The rain that had started as a light shower came down in buckets. He had to keep Wulf warm. Broc undid his cloak and wrapped himself along with the boy in it. If only the weather had waited. The day wore on, and it showed no sign of letting up. There was nothing to do but push on. Darkness fell. Thick clouds covered the moon’s brightness, obscuring most of the light it would have shed. He had to reach Elmstead or Wulf’s chances of survival would be slim to none.
A few miles from their destination, Broc pulled his horse off the road. The rain had lightened to a drizzle, and dawn had inched over the horizon. Wulf thrashed in his arms and kept calling for someone named Colwyn.
Heat washed over him as Broc pulled the wet blanket off Wulf. As he had expected, the fever had increased. The boy’s face looked even more flushed, and he was becoming delirious. Broc cradled him on his lap, and as gently as he could, pulled the bandage from the wound. The infection had grown worse. Puss ran out of it at the slightest probing.
He quickly applied a poultice and then re-bandaged the wound. He did not have much time left. He was lightheaded from lack of sleep. Somehow, he settled Wulf once more in a manageable position. Broc scanned his face.
The features were so fine they could almost be a woman’s. He resembled the girl so much Broc had to stop himself from doing the unthinkable. The urge to kiss the pink, slightly-pouting lips seemed almost too much of a temptation. He shook his head. It must be lack of sleep making him think that way. It had to be.
An hour later, they galloped through the village of Elmstead. Broc did not pull up until he clattered into the yard of the thane’s dwelling. Even though the hour was still early, a few villagers milled about.
He shouted to one of them. “I need the thane. Tell him it is urgent.”
A man who stood closest to the hall rushed inside. He reappeared a few minutes later with an older man. Broc studied him as he approached. Despite his years, he would still be considered good looking. His body had a warrior’s build. His hair was blond, but not quite as blond as his son. As he came closer, Broc noticed his eyes were gray. He assumed Wulf must resemble his mother in looks rather than his father.
The thane came to stand beside the horse. “I am Swein, the thane. What is so urgent?”
Broc reached down and placed the boy in the older man’s arms. The blanket fell from Wulf’s face. Swein turned white. He clasped the boy to his chest and spun around to return to the hall. After quickly dismounting, Broc gave his horse’s reins to a villager, then followed Swein into the hall.
Wulf had been laid on a table, and it had not taken the thane long to find the wound. Without looking up, Swein spoke. “How did this happen? I know you are a Norman. Did your Duke William finally arrive?”
Broc pulled his helmet off and placed it at Wulf’s feet before going to the opposite side of the table. “Aye, he did. He is now King of England. Harold is dead.”
The older man still did not look up. “So, what is to happen to us Saxons? Are we to lose everything? Our respect? Our way of life? Our lands?”
“I do not know what the king has in mind for England. All I do is he gave Elmstead to me.”
Swein’s head snapped up. His gaze seemed to become riveted on to Broc’s face. “What is your name?”
&nbs
p; “I am Broc St. Ceneri.”
“Well, Broc St. Ceneri, we will discuss who owns Elmstead later. Right now, I have to save my son.”
Broc tried to reassure the thane. “I have done everything I could for Wulf. I do not think it was enough. Bringing him home seemed the best thing I could do for him.”
“I am grateful for that mercy. Our healer will take over now.” The thane reached down and lifted his son off the table.
Before he could walk away, Broc stopped him. “Wait. I would like to help. With Wulf, that is.”
“You have done enough already.” Swein turned to Broc and spoke with anger lacing his words. “If it had not been for you Normans, I would not have my child brought home half dead. Why are you alone with my son? Where is Osbern? He would never leave Wulf’s side without a fight.”
Broc shook his head. “He died during the battle. He protected your son until the end.”
Swein’s face grew grim as he nodded. “Well, I hope he did not die in vain. I now have to mourn the loss of a friend. God help you if I have to mourn the loss of my child.”
“Then let me help. I would not like to see the boy die.”
Swein looked at Broc and nodded once again. “Fine, I will let you know when you can be of service. Get some rest first. I will have one of the serfs show you to a chamber.”
Broc felt something akin to panic as the thane brought his son to one of the chambers at the back of the hall. He actually found himself taking a step forward to follow before he pulled himself back.
The thane was right. He needed to sleep. In his need to hurry, he had not slept at all in the last twenty-four hours. If he wanted to be of any help at all, he had to get some rest.
* * * *
The pain was almost unbearable. It would be so easy to sink back down into the blackness, but something, or someone, beckoned. Ariel tried to ignore the voice as she started to sink into the void. The voice became more persistent.
Why would it not leave her be? The blackness was her friend. The pain went away while it embraced her.
Still the voice called.
This time Ariel followed the sound to the surface. If she answered, maybe it would leave her alone. Her eyes fluttered open. A face hung above her. Blinking, she let her eyes adjust to the brightness of the room. The face smiled. She almost wished she had not opened her eyes. It was Broc’s she saw, very close to her own.
“Come on, Wulf. Stay with us for a while.”
Ariel let out a groan. “What…what? Where am I?” Her voice was rough.
“At home in Elmstead.”
She looked around the room and found herself in her own bed, in her own chamber. She closed her eyes in contentment. She was home. Reality set in. Broc was at Elmstead.
Her eyes snapped open. “I must see my father.” Ariel pushed herself up, trying to get off the bed, but her body failed her before she could lift herself very far.
Broc gently pushed her back down. “Where do you think you are going? Your fever has just broken. I will get your father.”
As soon as Broc left the room, Ariel scanned her chamber. Someone had removed all her gowns, for they no longer hung on the pegs along the back of the wall. In their place hung tunics and trews. She relaxed. Her father must have realized Broc knew her only as a boy.
The chamber door opened, and Swein walked in. Seeing Ariel awake, he rushed to her side, kneeled, and grabbed her hand to place a kiss on it. “I praise God the fever has passed. You had me worried, my girl. Especially after the Norman said you had not awoken for the last few days.”
“The Norman is Colwyn’s father.”
“Aye, I know. You only have to look at his face to reach that conclusion.”
“Where is Colwyn? Broc must not see him. He has not recognized me. I am not going to tell him I am really a woman.”
“I figured that much when he called you Wulf. Have no fear about him seeing your boy. While the Norman slept, I moved Colwyn into one of the new huts in the village. Lily is with him.”
Ariel relaxed. “I want to see him. He probably will not remember me since I have been gone so long. Nothing went as planned.”
“How were you to know the king would choose you to be one of his house carls? I must say I am proud of you. A house carl. I am sure Osbern felt the same.”
Tears came to her eyes at the mention of her friend’s name. Over the last few months, they had formed a bond, and Ariel would miss him greatly. “I am sorry, Father, about Osbern. If I had not wanted to fight with the fryd, he would still be alive.”
Swein patted her hand. “Do not go blaming yourself for Osbern’s death. He would not want that. As for Colwyn, he might not recognize you, but he is still young. Though there is one problem with you seeing him.”
Ariel stiffened. “What could possibly stand in the way of me seeing my son?”
“The Norman is in the guest chamber right beside yours. He refuses to leave your side.”
Ariel fought to stay awake. She had used up most of her energy by talking to her father. It would help her body heal, but she had so much more she needed to say.
Swein released her hand and stood. He bent down and kissed her cheek. “Sleep, Ariel. I will figure out a way to bring Colwyn to you. All you have to worry about is letting your wound heal. Once you are up and about, you will see him as much as you want at the hut.”
Her father’s words were the last Ariel heard before sleep finally claimed her.
* * * *
Broc could not remember the last time he had been so exhausted. It was late, very late, but sleep eluded him. Being at Elmstead once again brought memories of the girl back in a rush, so vivid he could almost taste her. He could almost feel her body pressed against his. Just thinking of her made him ache. There would be no ignoring the pressure in his trews as his cock swelled.
He gave himself a mental shake. Those thoughts had to stop. He had to sleep. A sound coming from the direction of the hall distracted him from his wayward musing. Broc wondered who could be moving about at that hour. He had thought the last of the inhabitants had retired hours ago.
Broc opened his chamber door. A lone woman crossed the length of the room. She headed toward the chambers with a bundle cradled in her arms. Peering closer, he realized she held a baby. A blanket covered the child’s face, obscuring it from view. From the woman’s dress, he guessed her to be from the village.
The woman entered Wulf’s chamber. Broc had to wonder if the boy had already sired a child. Thinking it unlikely, he shook his head. Wulf was too young. He was not even old enough to grow a beard. Besides, it had never been mentioned that Wulf had a child.
Whoever the woman and baby were, Broc would find out, but it could wait until the morning. He had to get some sleep. For tomorrow, he would start taking over the reins of Elmstead. The people had to know he now controlled it, and not their one-time thane.
* * * *
Ariel opened her eyes at the sound of her chamber door opening and then being closed quietly. At the sight of Lily with Colwyn in her arms, she painfully raised herself into a sitting position.
Lily sat on the edge of the bed. “Are you sure you are strong enough for this? You just came out of the fever.”
Ariel smiled. “I will manage. Nothing is going to stop me from holding my son. It has been too long.”
Lily nodded and gently placed the sleeping baby into Ariel’s arms. Once Ariel pulled the blanket from her son’s face, she found him still asleep. Tears came to her eyes at the sight of him.
The similarity between father and son hit her first. The other was how much he had grown. Colwyn was not the tiny baby she had left behind four months before. Sadness washed over her. She had missed so much—his first smile, his first laugh, his first attempt at crawling.
Ariel placed a kiss on the sleeping baby’s forehead and wondered if he would hate her when he grew up. She had chosen to wage war instead of staying with him. How could she blame him if he did?
Tears we
re still in Ariel’s eyes as she looked at Lily. “I have missed too much of his life. I should have stayed in Elmstead.”
Lily briefly squeezed Ariel’s hand. “Do not say that. Aye, you missed some things, but you have years to make up for your absence.”
Ariel pushed back her tears. “True. It is one thing that is making it easier to bear.” She once more looked at her sleeping son. “What is he like?”
Lily smiled and gently stroked back the hair that had fallen over Colwyn’s forehead. “He is a happy baby. Only cries when he is hungry or tired. He smiles all the time. Do not worry, Ariel. He will take to you very quickly.”
Ariel let out a sigh. “Well, I plan to spend a lot of time with Colwyn, even if I have to live in a hut with him.”
Lily shook her head. “You will not have to do that. While you were gone, your father had a smaller hall built for you and Colwyn.”
That surprised Ariel. She had not expected her father to do that. “Truly? He had not mentioned it before my leaving.”
“He wanted it to be a surprise, but I figure it is a blessing now. We will be able to keep Colwyn from the Norman there.”
Ariel had to agree with Lily. “Aye, but Broc has been given Elmstead. I have no idea what he has planned for Father and me. For all I know, he might send us away.”
Sheepishly, Lily looked at Ariel. “Then maybe it would be better if you told him who you really are. He would not want to have his son homeless.”
Ariel shook her head. “Nay, I will not tell him. He has not recognized me yet. I can only assume what we shared must not have meant all that much to him. So what would be the point in telling him who I am? I meant nothing to him.”
* * * *
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