The Conqueror (Hot Knights)

by Gillgannon, Mary

  Edeva’s annoyance turned instantly to anxiety. “Where?” she asked the servant.

  “Follow me while I get more pottage,” Golde suggested.

  Edeva got up slowly and went to the main hearth, which was being used as a cooking fire until the kitchen could be repaired. Golde leaned over and stirred the kettle of beans and peas simmering over the fire. “Beornwold says he must speak with you. Find some excuse to go to the village. He will meet you there.”

  “Does Beornwold not know I am watched?” Edeva hissed.

  “He knows of your situation. But he believes you are clever enough to dupe the Normans. Are you, Edeva?” Golde’s amber eyes glinted. “Mayhaps you need some advice on dealing with men. I vow I could arrange the matter easily, if I were in your place.”

  Edeva’s fingers twitched to slap the woman’s arrogant face, but she restrained herself. This was neither the time nor place to display her jealousy.

  “Tell Beornwold that I will try to meet him, but he must give me time to arrange it.”

  “Do not delay long. You know how impatient your brother is. He said to tell you that if you ignore this summons, I am to go to Sir Alan and reveal you have been working with the rebels all along.” Golde cocked her head toward Fornay, who sat at the far end of the high table. “I’m certain he would be delighted to believe the worst of you.”

  Edeva’s blood was boiling. Bad enough that she must endure Golde’s gloating. She would not tolerate the slut threatening her! She forced a confident smile to her lips. “You overestimate your power, wench. Fornay may command the garrison, but he would not be so stupid as to take action until his leader returns.”

  “Think you that he would not have you flogged for fear of Brevrienne’s wrath? Poor Edeva, what a miserable judge of men you are.” Golde spoke in a low, almost purring voice. “That knight hates you. He would love to see you endure some painful, humiliating punishment.”

  A shiver passed down Edeva’s spine as she realized the truth in Golde’s words. Unlike Brevrienne, whose actions were tempered by his feelings for her, Fornay would not restrain his fury if she were revealed as a spy. She doubted he would risk having her put to death, but he might do as Golde said and have her whipped. The thought of it horrified Edeva, not so much for dread of the pain, but the disgrace. How would she ever hold up her head among her people if they saw her so brutally humbled?

  Golde moved away, her expression smug. Edeva watched her go to Fornay and fill his bowl with soup. Golde leaned close so that one of her honey-colored braids fell against the knight’s shoulder. Fornay looked up and gave Golde a look that was condemning but also lustful.

  An idea came to Edeva. Like any man, Fornay was prey to weaknesses of the flesh. If she could find some woman capable of enticing him, she would have a weapon to balance his mistrust of her.

  But the dark-visaged Norman seemed immune to the fairer sex. Edeva had never seen him daily with the serving women, nor did he respond to the few, like Golde, who openly tried to seduce him.

  A pity. She needed some sort of leverage over Brevrienne’s captain.

  Edeva glanced again at Golde, now using her charms on poor, tongue-tied Osbert. Though she dreaded doing so, Edeva realized she had no choice but to obey her brother’s summons. She could not risk Golde carrying tales to Fornay.

  In truth, she had a real reason to go to the village. Wulfget had not improved, and it was time to see if the healer had any advice on how to help the injured woman.

  She crossed to where Fornay sat. “Sir Alan,” she said, trying to train her voice to submissiveness, “do you recall the young woman who was injured in the fire? Not the one who was burned, but the other, who breathed in the smoke?”

  Fornay nodded, his face wary.

  “She grows worse, and I know not what to do for her. I would like to take her to the healer in the village.” “Why cannot the healer come here?”

  “Old Helwenna suffers from a disease that twists her joints and made them ache. She cannot walk without great pain.”

  “So, you contrive that we should take the wounded woman there?”

  Edeva nodded. “You may accompany us yourself if you fear trickery.”

  Fornay’s dark eyes pierced her. Edeva endured his gaze, confident he could find no deception in her face. Wulfget’s need was real. He would realize that when he saw the young woman.

  Wulfget lay on a pallet piled with blankets. She tried to raise her head as Edeva and Fornay approached.

  “Nay, do not bestir yourself,” Edeva said. “We’ve come to help you.”

  Wulfget’s huge iris-blue eyes rested on Fornay. Then she looked at Edeva, her expression full of fear. “The Norman,” she whispered. “What does he here?”

  “He means to help you. He’s going to escort us into the village to see the healer.”

  Edeva’s words did not seem to ease Wulfget. Her already milk-white skin grew paler still. Her stunning eyes widened.

  Edeva shot a quick glance at Fornay. “She fears you,” she told him. “She sees you as one of the monsters who have hurt so many of her people.”

  “I would never hurt such a delicate flower,” he said, his expression troubled. “Tell her that.”

  Edeva gave the Norman a sharp look. Delicate flower? Mayhaps Fornay liked his women fragile and needy.

  She turned her attention back to the wounded woman. “Wulfget, you know you can trust me. I would not have brought the Norman here if I thought he meant you harm. You must not fear him.”

  The young woman gazed at Fornay a moment, then lay back with a sigh.

  “I will carry her,” Fornay said. “’Tis clear she cannot walk.”

  “Nay, she has not the strength for that. But we could arrange a litter.”

  Fornay shook his head. “I will carry her. She will be more comfortable that way.”

  He leaned over the bed and prepared to pick up Wulfget. Edeva tensed, wondering if the young woman would anger him by pulling away.

  She need not have worried. Wulfget lay passive and still while the knight lifted her. As he straightened, she reached a slender arm around his neck and pressed her face to his chest.

  “She scarce weighs anything,” Fornay said. “Her bones are like those of a bird.”

  “She has not eaten well since the injury,” Edeva said as they left the hall. “And she was never very robust.”

  “Are you certain she is a Saxon? I’ve seen no other women here who look like her.”

  “She may have Danish blood,” Edeva allowed. “But she has lived at Oxbury all her life, and her parents look the same as any of the villeins.”

  “Is she a virgin?”

  Fornay’s question startled Edeva, then she grew angry. “Wulfget was raised as a modest, virtuous girl,” she snapped. “Unless one of your men has raped her, she is a maiden still.”

  “One such as her could not endure a crude deflowering and keep her wits intact,” Fornay mused. “I believe she remains untouched.”

  At the gate, Edeva said, “Are you not going to take an escort?”

  Fornay adjusted his burden. “Do you think it necessary? Are your countrymen going to attack us?”

  Edeva gritted her teeth. This man was impossible! “I know naught of their plans, but it seems a reasonable precaution. Brevrienne always took a guard when he left the palisade.”

  “And how do I know your plan is not to lure a group of Normans outside where we will make easy targets?”

  “Jesu, do you think me so heartless as to involve her in an ambush?” Edeva asked bitterly, gesturing toward Wulfget. “Even the best shot among our archers would be hard put to hit you without risking her life as well.”

  “I think the rebels care little for the life of one small Saxon maid,” he retorted. “I believe they might well consider her a worthy sacrifice if they met their goal of killing me. Did they think of her welfare when they set the fire?”

  Edeva felt a weight settle on her shoulders at his words. Wulfget had alrea
dy been injured because of her brothers’ ruthlessness. They might indeed think her life inconsequential in the scheme of their plans. “Take an escort or no,” she told the knight. “I merely give you the benefit of my advice.”

  Fornay stared at her, as if trying to read her thoughts. Finally, he said, “Very well, we take an escort. Payne!” he called up to the guardhouse. “Find another man to watch the gate. You and Warmund will come with us to the village.”

  Helwenna’s healing skills had made her an object of awe and trepidation to the rest of villagers. For that reason, she lived some distance beyond the main group of dwellings. Edeva watched the Norman knight’s eyes narrow in distaste at the sight of the shabby hut.

  “Helwenna has no one to care for her, and her health is too poor for her to do many things,” she said. “Do not judge her harshly. She is Wulfget’s best hope for recovery.”

  The knight glanced at the woman in his arms and tenderly shifted her weight.

  Edeva bent down and led the way into the hovel. The smell almost made her gag. Gradually, her eyes adjusted to the noxious haze and she was able to see the healer, propped up on a pallet in the corner. She was a huge woman, plump as a stoat. Tufts of thinning hair stuck up from her large, round head, and her dark eyes missed nothing.

  “Helwenna,” Edeva said. “’Tis Edeva, Leowine’s daughter. I’ve brought someone who needs your aid.”

  The woman sat up awkwardly. “My, you’ve grown into a pretty one,” she said. In the murk, Edeva caught the gleam of Helwenna’s crafty gaze. “What will you pay me? Have you any gold? Helwenna likes gold. Lots and lots of gold.” The healer dissolved into cackling laughter.

  “She’s mad,” Fornay whispered from behind Edeva.

  “Nay, she has her wits as much as you or I. Have you any coin with you?” she added urgently. “I forgot she would insist on payment.”

  “She wants money? I carry none. Certainly she must do healing for barter. These villagers could not afford her services otherwise.”

  “She accepts food and firewood from them, but she knows I can pay more.” Edeva gave a sigh of aggravation. “I should have thought of this. I have nothing with me... wait... the clasp of my belt.” She undid the woven girdle and removed the silver clasp, then retied the belt. Bending down, she handed the clasp to the healer.

  The woman turned it over in her gnarled hand, and then bit it. Giving a satisfied grunt, she said, “Bring the hurt one here.”

  “She wishes you to bring Wulfget closer so she may examine her,” Edeva translated. “Lay her down on the pallet next to the healer.”

  Reluctantly, Fornay did as she bid him.

  “Don’t leave me!” Wulfget gave a piteous cry.

  “I don’t like this,” the knight said. “She’s obviously frightened.”

  “Then, stay with her.”

  He knelt down beside the pallet.

  “You,” Helwenna pointed to Edeva. “Leave us now.”

  Edeva gave the healer a startled look, and then realized that Helwenna, like the rest of the villagers, must know of the plan for her to meet Beornwold.

  She went outside and looked around for the Norman escort. When she did not see them, she grew uneasy.

  Moving stealthily behind the healer’s hut, Edeva entered the underbrush, then paused and listened. Her heart thudded loudly in her chest. Had their escort already been captured or killed?

  “So nice of you to come, little sister.” She whirled to see Beornwold’s grim countenance. “Where are the Normans?” she demanded.

  “Foolish bastards, our archers could have easily picked them off ere they even reached the village.”

  “What have you done?” Edeva asked in panic.

  Beornwold narrowed his eyes, then said, “Nay, we did not kill them. I had some of the village women invite them into their huts. Lustful swine. They value their randy loins more than their lives.”

  Edeva breathed a sigh of relief, and Beornwold’s lips curled. “Do you love all Normans so much then? Not merely the one whose bed you share? Or do you service all of them?”

  Hot anger surged through Edeva. She reached out to slap his face. He caught her hand before she could land the blow. “Little vixen,” he hissed. “I told Alnoth and Godric that we could no longer trust you.”

  Edeva pulled away, shaken. Once again, she had tried to attack her own kin.

  “At the very least, you can provide us with some information. We saw ten Normans leave the palisade. How many are left?”

  “Forty, not counting squires and servants.”

  He nodded. “And how long does the red-haired whoreson and the others stay away?”

  “He said they would be gone four sennights.”

  “That long?” Beornwold looked thoughtful.

  “What are you planning?”

  “Would you not like to know?” he jeered. “You’d probably betray us as you did last time.”

  “I did not betray you!”

  Beornwold grabbed her arm. “Godric told you to bring the Norman commander to us. Instead, you warned him to leave the palisade.”

  “But I did not tell him of your plans. I did not!”

  “It does not matter.” He gave her a shake. “Clearly you have chosen a Norman over your own kin.”

  “Stop, you’re hurting me!” She tried to pull away. Beornwold drew her close and whispered in her ear, “Does he have you dress yourself up in fine gowns and act as mistress of his household? Does he allow you your comforts, even as we freeze and go hungry in the woods?”

  Edeva shook her head, tears stinging her eyes. “I will not betray you,” she whispered, “but I cannot help you, either. Even with the Norman commander gone, there are not enough of you to take Oxbury. Your cause is hopeless.”

  “What do you suggest we do? Resign ourselves to being serfs and slaves to the Normans, as you have?”

  Edeva longed to answer ‘aye,’ to argue that the rebels must surrender sooner or later. If it were Godric or Alnoth she spoke to, she might have dared it, but she deemed it too risky with Beornwold. If he struck her, she would have to explain the bruise to Fornay.

  “Jesu, that’s exactly what you wish.” Beornwold’s eyes shone with disgust. “I thought you had more spirit than that, little sister. You joined us once as a warrior. Now you grovel at the Normans’ feet.”

  “’Tis not my own welfare I think of, but that of our people! If you attack the palisade, they are the ones who will suffer. The kitchen fire injured two women. How many more will come to grief if this struggle continues?”

  “There is always suffering in war. They are merely peasants anyway. Their lives are of no account.”

  “If the fire had caught hold, the entire palisade might have burned!”

  Beornwold shrugged. “If Oxbury burns, then we rebuild.”

  “With what?” she asked furiously. “How many servants and sokemen will stay to serve you? Even if you defeat these men, William of Normandy will send more. Your life will be naught but endless strife all your days!”

  “At least I will die like a man, rather than a Norman lackey!”

  Edeva sighed. ’Twas hopeless. Beornwold could not see the futility of the rebels’ cause. She prayed that Alnoth and Godric were not so stubborn. If only she could speak to them, reason with them.

  And there were other Saxons who might be swayed by her arguments. Beornwold, by himself, could do little. If she won the others over, their lives might be saved. “I must go back,” she told her brother flatly.

  He gave her a cold smile. “Aye, go back to your Norman lover’s bed. Don’t bother to feel any guilt about betraying your own blood, for I no longer claim you as my sister!”

  Beornwold vanished into the woods. Edeva watched him, grief choking her throat. Better that he should have struck her. His words were like a dagger in her heart.

  “Edeva! Where are you?”

  She hurried around the side of the house. Fornay stood there, his eyes coldly suspicious. “Where are
the other men?”

  “I don’t know. Mayhaps they went into one of the houses.”

  “If you have set a trap for us... ”

  “I don’t know where the others are, truly. I have been looking for them.”

  “Go in and see to Wulfget.”

  Edeva went inside the healer’s hut. The young woman seemed to have gotten over her fear of Helwenna, for the healer now leaned over her, listening to Wulfget’s chest. Helwenna straightened and made a clucking noise. “What do you think?” Edeva asked.

  “Her lungs are badly damaged. When she takes a breath, the air only goes partway down.”

  “What can we do to heal her?”

  “She is young. Sometimes the body repairs itself. But she must eat well. Meat and vegetables, milk and eggs.”

  “Medicine?”

  “Comfrey helps wounds heal. It might aid her. If she gets a fever, then give her willow bark. But if she fevers, there is likely no hope anyway.” The healer sat back and regarded Wulfget. “More than anything, she must not give up. She must fight.”

  Edeva detected a note of doubt in the healer’s voice. She was obviously concerned that Wulfget had the strength of will for the upcoming battle.

  Fornay pushed his way into the hut. “We leave now.” He glanced at Wulfget, then the healer. “What did she say?” he addressed Edeva. “Will Wulfget recover?”

  “She must eat good food and in plentiful quantities.”

  Fornay nodded.

  “’Tis not as simple as you think. So far, Wulfget has refused all but a little broth.”

  “She will eat,” the Norman knight announced. “If necessary, I will feed her myself.”

  The healer looked at Fornay, then at Wulfget. She gave a cackling laugh. “It seems she has someone else to fight for her.”

  Edeva also observed the intent look on Fornay’s face. She had hoped to find a maid who might tempt the knight, but now she was worried. What would happen if the Norman seduced Wulfget, then abandoned the young woman?

  Fornay picked up Wulfget and they went outside. Their escort waited nearby. “Where did you find them?” Edeva asked.

  “Whoring with the village women.”

  “You see?” she told Fornay. “’Twas not my doing.”