David cut in, shaking his head. “Nay,” he assured him. “The physic is doing all he can to heal him. Come and see him.”
Christopher and David began pulling Rhys down the hall as Daniel stood by and watched. He was so consumed with rage and agony that he could hardly move. Two young men were with Rhys, emerging from the stairwell behind him, and Daniel recognized them as two of Rhys’ sons.
Evan de Foix was another black-haired and blue-eyed son but Trevor de Foix resembled his mother to a fault with his reddish-blond hair. De Foix was the name the family used in France where they lived, as relatives of the Duke of Navarre, and Daniel extended his hand to the brothers as they came near. They looked just as exhausted as their father.
“How is my brother?” Evan asked in a pleading whisper, gripping Daniel’s hand.
Daniel wasn’t sure how much more sorrow and grief he could take. Every man felt it, radiated it, until it sucked all other emotions out of the air.
“He lives,” Daniel replied softly. He nodded his head in the direction they were taking Rhys. “Go with your father and you shall see for yourself.”
Solemnly, Evan nodded his head and continued on after his father. Trevor, very young and quite tall at his age, nodded grimly as he passed by. Daniel watched them move down the corridor, crowding into the small room where Maddoc was. He could hear voices, mostly David and Rhys’, until he began to hear sobbing.
Quietly, he moved back down the hallway and peered into the room where Rhys had Maddoc’s limp body in his arms, sobbing low and mournfully. The father rocked his son gently, devastated over the turn of events. It was the worst thing Daniel had ever seen.
Turning on his heel, he came face to face with his mother and older sister. Startled at their appearance, and the fact that they had snuck up behind him, Daniel did the first thing that came to mind. He threw his arms around them both, hugging them tightly as they began to weep softly. He couldn’t even speak; all he could do was hug. Words, at the moment, were unnecessary.
As he hugged his weeping mother, he kept thinking of the horrid things he would do to the de Royans bastard once he got his hands on him. For the man to cause so much grief to his family and friends was unforgivable.
He would make him pay with every last bone in his body.
You and I have floated here on the stream that brings from the fount.
At the heart of time, love of one for another.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Why in God’s name did you bring her here?” came the plea. “You will bring the entire House of de Lohr down on us, and for what? To sate your lust with one of their own?”
Brighton stood in the solar of the Earl of Norfolk, Hugh d’Aubigney. Hugh was a younger man, of ill health, but with a good and steady mind. He was the fourth earl in a long line of powerful earls and perhaps one of the finest of the line. He was well respected. But now, as Brighton stood before the good earl, he was coming to think that everything about this venture with Adalind de Aston was going to crush him. Everything he had worked for was now at risk. The good earl was not a bit supportive of what his senior knight had done, and he did not mince words.
“It was not to sate my lust, my lord, I assure you,” Brighton replied steadily. “She is a marriageable prospect, as am I. Marriage is made in such ways.”
“Wars are made in such ways,” Hugh fired back. His head was aching and his stomach rolled, paining him greatly. He sank into the nearest chair as a dog tried to jump on his lap. “Brighton, we have more civilized ways of obtaining a bride these days. That is why there are contracts and negotiations. Do you have any idea what you have done with your barbaric abduction? You have put me in the sights of the House of de Lohr and they will crush me to get to you. Did you stop to think of this before you kidnapped their kin?”
Brighton stood his ground although it was an increasing struggle. He was beginning to grow hot, thinking it was perhaps from the snapping fire in the hearth next to him, so he moved away from the flame. He was still hot even after he moved, now with the added discomfort of doubt in his actions. He tried not to let uncertainty overwhelm him.
“I challenged her betrothed and I emerged the victor,” he said. “I did not abduct her. She was the prize.”
Hugh rolled his eyes as he helped the big, shaggy dog climb up onto his lap. The dog brought warmth, which he craved in his slender body. Dogs were often on his lap for that purpose.
“She is not a prize,” he snapped angrily. “That woman is a mess, Brighton. She screams and kicks and fights anyone that comes near her. That is not the behavior of a prize but the behavior of a captive.”
Brighton sighed heavily, lowering his gaze to regroup. “She is unsteady, that is true,” he replied. “But it is her exhaustion. We have been traveling for over two weeks. Given time…”
“Given time, she will still feel the same way,” Hugh cut him off strongly, pointing fingers. “Brighton, I want you to listen to me very carefully. You are a brilliant young knight and I have always been very proud to have you in my stable but, at the moment, I fear you have done something horribly foolish. The Earl of Canterbury’s granddaughter must be returned home immediately.”
“She is mine.”
“She cannot stay.”
Brighton didn’t want to argue with the man but he wasn’t going to return Adalind, either. He tried another tactic.
“It is my intention to marry the woman,” he said. “We stopped at three parishes on our way from Canterbury but the lady would not… that is to say, circumstances did not permit us to be married. I was, therefore, hoping Father Trudo could perform the mass. Arundel has been my home for several years and I would like to be married here and raise my family here.”
He made it sound soft and sentimental, but Hugh would have none of it. He shook his head. “Get that woman back to her family,” he commanded. “If you refuse, then I will throw you in the vault and have someone else return her. Is that clear?”
Harsh orders that had Brighton backed into a corner. He had to question himself at that moment – was he willing to throw away a bright future and an impressive career over a woman who didn’t want him? He didn’t want to deliberately disobey the earl, but he was disinclined to follow a direct order. It would be career suicide if he refused. After a moment, he sighed again.
“My lord,” he began carefully. “If I can obtain her agreement for this wedding, will you allow us to stay?”
Hugh looked at him as if he were daft. “The only way I will allow her to stay is if you can get written permission from her grandfather and his assurance that he will not attack Arundel,” he said. “Given the circumstances, I am not entirely sure such a thing is possible.”
“But you will consider it?”
“It is an impossible task.”
“But you will consider it, my lord?”
Hugh met his gaze steadily. He had known Brighton de Royans for seven years and never in that time had he known the man to behave stupidly. There was a first time for everything, he supposed, but based upon the fleeting glimpse of Adalind de Aston, perhaps he did understand Brighton’s infatuation with the woman just a little. She was exquisite. However, it didn’t change the way of things.
“I will consider it if you can bring David de Lohr to my doorstep, in peace, to discuss it,” he said. “But until that time, stay away from the lady. I am sending Isabelle to tend her and perhaps bring her some comfort after what you have done. After that, she will be returned.”
Brighton didn’t argue with him further, mostly because he was going to disobey him by keeping Adalind at Arundel until he could figure out a solution to everything. He knew Adalind was wild with hatred against him, but he hoped that time and his gentle persuasion would see that situation change. He would hope for it. Until then, however, he had to figure out how to hide a woman who was not exactly the shy and meek type.
He had to hide a banshee from discovery.
*
Arundel Castle was the
biggest castle Adalind had ever seen, and she had seen quite a few castles in her short life. The enormous motte had a keep set deep within its crest and a gigantic curtain wall surrounded the castle using the motte as a center point, creating two baileys. On the north side of the castle were structures that housed apartments and stables, while the south side contained the biggest hall in all of southern England. Truly, the sheer size and pageantry of Arundel Castle was overwhelming to the senses.
Overwhelming for normal visitors, that is; to Adalind, it was her prison, a corner of hell that she had been relegated to with her jailor as Brighton de Royans. She wasn’t impressed with it, or anything else for that matter. Anyone that approached her was screamed at. She had no sense of propriety or manners. She was distraught and overwhelmed, seventeen days after her violent extraction from Canterbury. She simply couldn’t wrap her mind around anything other than her grief.
They had arrived at Arundel the day before. Brighton had put her in a room on the northern block and had assigned people to see to her comfort since she would take none from him. Their travel to Arundel had been nothing short of hellish because she fought, kicked, scratched, and bit every step of the way to the point where Brighton was forced to bind her as they traveled. There was no other way to accomplish it because she tried to run every chance she was given and when she wasn’t running, she was trying to hurt him.
Moreover, he’d stopped at two more churches after he had left St. Barnabas in the attempt to marry Adalind but she fought him so much on it, literally, that he had given up by the third attempt. He didn’t want to marry a woman he would have to restrain during the mass and it was quite clear that Adalind wasn’t going to make it easy for him.
In her filthy surcoat that she had been wearing for over two weeks, Adalind sat huddled in a corner of the decently appointed chamber she had been consigned to. Her blood had stained the neckline of the garment, drying long ago into dark brown stains, and the wound from whence the blood flow sprang was now a large scab near her right collarbone. It was healing nicely but would leave a scar.
Still, she didn’t care. There wasn’t much she cared about at the moment other than another scheme to escape Brighton. It had been hours since their arrival at Arundel and even though there was a bed in the small, neat chamber, she hadn’t used it. When someone came in to stoke the fire, she had screamed at them and threw whatever she could get her hands on. Now, no one wanted to come into her room, which was how she wanted it. She wanted to be left alone with her grief.
Her last vision of Maddoc was of the man face-down in the bailey of Canterbury. She could still see the moment Brighton swung on him and plowed the broadsword into his torso. She was haunted by the expression on Maddoc’s face, surprised by the fact that Brighton had actually gored him. All of these things assaulted her senses until she couldn’t think straight and the guilt of her actions was the most damaging thing of all.
She had caused Maddoc’s death. At first, she wanted to die, too. She was eager for it. But after days of travel and reflecting on her actions, she came to realize that killing herself would only condemn her soul to Purgatory where she would never see Maddoc again. If she wanted to see him in the afterlife, then she would have to live out her worthless and meaningless life until such time as death naturally took her. She could only hope it was soon.
The only place that seemed like a safe haven to her now, a place that was closer to Maddoc’s soul than any other, was a convent. It was a place closer to God and, subsequently, closer to heaven than anywhere else she could think of. Once, she had wanted to join the cloister because she would not marry the man she loved. Now, she wanted to join for the same reason. But in order to commit herself, she would have to escape Arundel and Brighton, and she knew that would not be a simple thing.
Oh, God, she moaned inwardly, laying her head on the bended knees that were clutched against her chest, please forgive me for what I did to Maddoc. Please embrace him within your bosom, O Lord, until such time as we can be reunited again. My love for the man is unending and timeless, and it is stronger than the cold fingers of Death. We will be together again, someday. She had prayed that prayer many times over the last several days, usually accompanied by sobs. Today was no different. But as she prayed the prayer, the only thing that brought her any measure of comfort, there was a soft knock on the door.
Adalind’s head popped up, her eyes narrowing. She looked around the room, quickly, noting that there was nothing left for her to throw unless she wanted to toss tables and chairs. She had exhausted her ammunition supply within the first hour of her arrival. Gearing up for another fight, she balled her bruised hands and didn’t say a word as the knock came again. After a lengthy pause, the door slowly creaked open.
A small woman with a tightly wimpled head and big brown eyes peered into the dim room. She had evidently been warned about Adalind because the only thing visible was her head. She wasn’t about to step into the room. After a moment, she spied Adalind huddled up in the corner against the wall, rolled up into a protective ball. The woman smiled timidly.
“Lady Adalind?” she said in a very soft and sweet voice. “I am the Lady Isabelle, Countess of Norfolk. I promise I have not come to hurt you in any way. I have simply come to make sure you are taken care of. May I please enter?”
Adalind gazed at the woman a moment longer before turning away. She didn’t want to look at her and she didn’t want to talk to her. But she stayed huddled up in her protective ball and that was evidently good enough for Lady Isabelle. As long as the Lady Adalind wasn’t charging, she would be brave and enter the room.
There were a pair of female servants behind Lady Isabelle and when Adalind caught sight of them out of the corner of her eye, she rolled to her knees, preparing for some manner of a physical confrontation because it appeared to her as if Lady Isabelle was bringing reinforcements. When Lady Isabelle saw Adalind’s reaction, she held out a swift hand to the women behind her, ordering them to stop in their tracks. They did.
“My lady,” Isabelle said calmly, soothingly. “I assure you, we will not harm you. We have brought food and clothing and warm water for you to bathe in. I promise I only wish to help you and I swear no one will hurt you. Will you please allow us into your chamber?”
Adalind wasn’t ready for any human contact. She growled as she spoke. “Get out!” she snarled. “You are not welcome here. Get out and leave me alone!”
The servants cowered but Lady Isabelle remained strong, at least for the moment. “My lady, I understand you have been through some very trying times,” she said. “I do not wish to aggravate or harass you – I swear I only want to help. Will you please let me?”
“Nay!” Adalind barked. “Get out before I throw you out!”
Isabelle studied the woman, looking like a wild animal in her torn and stained clothing, her long blond hair dirty and askew. But she also noted her face and she could see that the Lady Adalind was a truly beautiful woman underneath the dirt and snarling. She could also see just how shattered the woman was. She began to feel a tremendous amount of pity for her.
“My lady,” Isabelle tried again. “My husband has ordered Sir Brighton to return you to Canterbury. You cannot go home in rags and dirt. Will you please allow me to clean you up so you can be returned home looking as a daughter of de Lohr should?”
That gently uttered statement seemed to suck all of the fight out of Adalind. She stared at Isabelle, her features pale with shock. For the first time in weeks, the wild and frightened animal subsided.
“Home?” she repeated. “I… I am going home?”
Isabelle smiled timidly. “Aye,” she said. “May I help you prepare?”
Adalind was truly astonished. She stood up, unsteadily, her eyes wide on Isabelle. “Where… where is Brighton?”
“He is with my husband.”
“Will he punish him?”
“I do not know, my lady. That is for my husband to decide.”
“I will not see him
again?”
“I do not know, my lady, but if I have any say in the matter, he will be kept from you.”
“When can I return home?”
“I am not for certain, but it will be soon. Will you let me help you now?”
Adalind stood there a moment, dazed as she reflected upon Lady Isabelle’s words, before finally nodding her agreement. The lure of getting away from Brighton, for the moment, blurred all else in her mind. Her nod was brief but enough to send Isabelle into action. Soon, the woman was barking orders like a commander as the small army of servants she brought with her swung into action.
Adalind ended up in the corner again, watching the activity with anxiety. Isabelle went to her and spoke softly enough, sweetly enough, so that Adalind calmed somewhat and Isabelle was able to put her arm around the young woman to comfort her. She stood there and held Adalind, explaining the actions of the servants as if she were explaining the situation to a small and frightened child.
Adalind let the woman comfort her. In truth, she needed it. The warmth of human contact was not to be underestimated and it was the first time in over two weeks that she felt safe. She was exhausted, emotional, and hungry, and Isabelle must have sensed her immediate needs because she directed two servants bearing trays to set them down on the table near the small lancet window.
There was a pitcher of wine, bread, cheese, fruit, and a big trencher that contained an entire roast fowl and a steaming bowl of boiled carrots. As Isabelle continued to direct the servants in the filling of a great copper tub and the building of a fire in the dark and sooty hearth, Adalind nearly collapsed into one of the chairs and began tearing at the food.
As she stuffed food into her mouth, she began to notice that some of the servants were passing through a small and hidden doorway that was built in next to the hearth. It was a servant’s passage, not unusual in fine houses that usually led to a kitchen or other service part of the structure. She hadn’t noticed the door before because it blended seamlessly into the wall, but she was coming to think that perhaps she could use it to escape. The main door into the room was bolted and locked, but it was quite possible this one was not. She tried not to pay too much attention to it, fearful that Isabelle or someone else might catch on that she had noticed it.
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