She frowned. “I will not allow it,” she said firmly. “Moreover, he cannot kill you. Frenchmen have been trying to do it for years and have not succeeded. What makes you think a crippled Englishman can?”
Brandt chuckled, shaking his head. “An angry crippled father is worth a thousand whole-bodied Frenchmen,” he said. “Do not underestimate him.”
He was half-joking but Ellowyn was still serious. “So what do we do? Retreat to Guildford and hope he gives up at some point? Perhaps he will come to Guildford and lay siege.”
Brandt nodded. “It is a distinct possibility,” he replied. “But my castle is well-fortified. He will not succeed if he tries to bring me down.”
“Do we just sit and wait him out?”
“Nay,” Brandt said, rather firmly. “I will go about my business seeking fresh men and supplies for the Prince of Wales, and eventually return to France.”
Her spirit dampened. “And leave me behind at Guildford with my father trying to beat down the walls?”
He sobered. Then he put his hand beneath her chin, tipping her head up to receive a sweet kiss to the mouth.
“We are not going to play out that scenario at this moment,” he said softly but firmly. “You will get dressed and I will return for you within the hour. Agreed?”
She made a face but nodded. “Agreed.”
He smiled, kissing her again. “I will station a soldier outside in case you need something.”
She watched him head to the door. “Where are you going?”
He put his hand on the latch, his eyes studying her. “I have many tasks that require my attention,” he replied. “But I will not go far, I swear it.”
He winked at her before quitting the room and quietly shutting the door. Ellowyn sat there a moment, pondering his massive and handsome presence, before being interrupted by a soft knock on the door. Two serving women admitted themselves, carrying a big copper tub between them.
Lined with linen, the tub was dented and very used, but serviceable. Ellowyn remained on the bed, covered up to her ears, as men entered bearing buckets of hot water and proceeded to fill up the tub. She could also see a pair of Brandt’s soldiers in the hall, watching everyone who entered and left the room. Already, they were protecting the duchess, Brandt de Russe’s lady wife. The thought made her grin.
A serving woman remained behind to help her bathe. Once the water was filled about halfway in the tub, the serving woman shut the door and locked it. Ellowyn climbed out of bed and rummaged around in the booty Brandt had brought her until she came across a sack made from dried grass soaked in oil to both strengthen and soften the strands. It was woven tightly and tied with another piece of long grass.
Untying the top, she dumped the bag onto the coverlet and was delighted to find two white, lumpy bars of soap that smelled like orange blossoms, a small bladder that was well-sealed and when opened revealed scented sesame oil for the skin, a wooden brush made with horsehair bristles, and a decorative hair comb carved from tortoise shell. There was even a little pot of something that looked waxy, was unscented, and that she and the serving woman figured out must have been to keep her lips from cracking. Ellowyn recognized the consistency. She had something similar back at Erith.
Thrilled with the items, she climbed into the bath as the fire in the hearth gained steam and started smoking into the room. After the servant woman doused Ellowyn’s hair with the warm water, she went to the window to lift the oilcloth so some of the smoke could escape. Meanwhile, Ellowyn was scrubbing herself furiously with the white soap that had pieces of orange blossom petals in it. The maid took charge of her hair and soaped it up into a slimy lather that took a great deal of water to rinse out. From the top of her head to the bottom of her feet, Ellowyn was soaped and rinsed, feeling warm and wonderful.
But the bath didn’t last too long considering Brandt was anxious to get on the road. Once out of the tub, the servant dried Ellowyn with such vigor that her skin turned red and then sparingly rubbed the oil all over her. The result was silky skin that had a delightful smell to it, like flowers on a warm summer day. After that, the servant picked out one of the two new shifts off the bed and put it over Ellowyn’s head, sitting her on a stool by the fire as she went to work drying the long red hair.
The woman worked quickly but not quickly enough. With some of her hair still damp, the servant braided Ellowyn’s hair tightly and helped her dress in one of the new garments Brandt had brought her. The shift was pale, soft wool while the surcoat was a finely woven linen dyed a dark blue. It had laced-up ties in the back that, when cinched up, gave Ellowyn an exquisite figure. Working swiftly and silently, the woman cinched it up too tight at first until Ellowyn begged for it to be loosened.
The servant then helped her with her hose and leather boots, and then took one of the two heavy woolen scarves that Brandt had purchased, and draped it over Ellowyn’s shoulders, tying it to the rear so it elegantly covered most of her torso. The bright red color was striking. With her luscious figure in the shapely surcoat, red scarf, and braid draping elegantly over one shoulder, she looked every inch the Duchess of Exeter. It was, in fact, a vision not lost on St. Hèver and Alex de Lara when they showed up with a wicker trunk they had purchased from a nearby vegetable merchant.
Two male servants were hauling the half-filled and used bathtub away and the door to the chamber was wide open when the knights appeared. Ellowyn was standing over by the bed, carefully folding her new garments, when a soft knock on the open door distracted her. She looked up to see two armored men smiling at her.
“Come in,” she said, waving them in. Then she noticed the trunk they were carrying. “For me? Lovely! I have all of these wonderful things to pack.”
The knights set the tightly-woven reed trunk down, tipping it over and shaking out some of the leaves and roots left over from the vegetables that had been stored in it.
“It is all we could find at such short notice, my lady,” Brennan said. “It will be serviceable for now, but the duke wishes to purchase you finer trunks when we reach a larger town. We should find more merchants with more of a variety of wares.”
Ellowyn was already carefully putting things into the wicker trunk. “This will be fine,” she told them. “Where is de Russe?”
“Your husband is outside tending to some business,” Alex replied. “He has asked us to escort you outside when you are ready.”
She grinned as she rolled up the blue shift and surcoat she had worn the day before. “I meant to ask where my husband is,” she said as she turned for the trunk and tucked the garments in. “I have not yet gotten used to calling him that.”
“And we have not gotten used to calling you his wife,” Alex countered, returning her smile.
“It all seems so new and strange, doesn’t it?” Ellowyn asked.
Both Alex and Brennan nodded, inevitably thinking back to the first day they met her. A marriage between their liege and the spitfire of a woman at that time seemed the most unlikely of things. Just like Brandt and Ellowyn, the knights of the duke’s command were still getting used to the idea, too.
“It does, indeed,” Alex replied quietly.
The sack of dried grass was the last thing to be packed in the wicker basket and Brennan secured the lid. Slinging the trunk over one big shoulder, he took it out of the room as Alex and Ellowyn followed.
The corridor outside was dim as Alex escorted Ellowyn to the stairs. The soldiers that had been guarding the hall were leading the way down the steps into the main room, which was dark and cold at this hour. The innkeeper and his employees were moving around, preparing for the coming day, and smells were wafting from the kitchen that was tucked back into one corner of the inn. Ellowyn most definitely smelled bread and she turned a hungry eye in the direction of the kitchen.
Alex must have sensed her famished state, or at least had already anticipated it, because he was already snapping commands at the kitchen staff. One of the women who had helped with Ellowyn’s bath
came forth with a basket containing what Ellowyn thought were small loaves of bread. She found out she was very wrong.
“You can take this with you, my lady,” the woman handed her the basket, pointing at the contents. “These are little loaves of puffed cakes. I have put butter and honey on them for you. Eat them while they are warm.”
Ellowyn was very interested. So was Alex. The quieter, more introspective version of Dylan evidently had a strong interest in food. She picked up a piece of one of the puffed little cakes, which were actually hollow inside, and popped it in her mouth. It was delicious. She offered one to Alex, who gladly took a piece. He, too, thought they were quite delicious.
“What are these puffed cakes made from?” Ellowyn wanted to know, stuffing another one into her mouth.
“Flour, eggs, a little milk and salt,” the servant told her. “We bake them in fat and they puff up into little hollow cakes. Sometimes we douse them with gravy, which is also very delicious.”
Ellowyn had already put another cake in her mouth by the time the woman had finished explaining how they were made. Alex took the last one. The serving woman ran off with the basket and returned with several more, all hot and delicious with white butter and golden honey soaking into them. She also included several cuts of well-cooked meat, which smelled divinely. It was crispy, salty and greasy, and Alex took a piece before Ellowyn could get to it. He crunched into it the brittle meat, pieces flying out of his mouth. Ellowyn selected her own piece and bit into it.
“What is this wonderful meat?” she asked, mouth full.
The servant woman grinned, displaying the only three discolored teeth she had. “Bacoun my lady,” she replied. “It is cured, salted, and fried pork.”
Ellowyn was sold. “Give me all you have. I suspect it will be stolen from me when the knights smell it.”
The old servant was on the move. “I shall return, my lady.”
Ellowyn devoured her fill of the puffed-up cakes while waiting for the bacoun, leaving a few for Brandt on the assumption he had not yet eaten. When the servant returned with a slab of bacoun wrapped in burlap that was quickly soaking with the grease, Alex carried it outside for her but Ellowyn kept shooting him threatening expressions to ensure the temptation of the pungent smell would not lure him into eating it. She wanted it for Brandt, protective and concerned for her new husband. He had displayed as much consideration for her. She would return the favor.
It was still quite misty outside in the breaking dawn. Water coated the buildings, landscape, and people, and there was an icy chill to the air. The army was packed up and ready to depart and Ellowyn could see the knights through the mist, making sure everything was set before they departed for the very long journey to Guildford Castle. As she stood on the stoop of the inn, watching the activity, a carriage pulled up in front of her.
The wheels kicked up some mud so Ellowyn stepped back, out of the way, as the carriage came to a halt. It was a sturdy vehicle with a driver perched at the front of it and an enclosed cab, drawn by two matching gray horses that blended in with the mist and fog. It was in decent condition and she kept waiting for someone to get out of it, but instead, Brandt roared up behind it astride his big black charger. Ellowyn had to move quickly yet again to avoid the splashing mud.
“My lady,” Brandt greeted her as he climbed off his steed. His helm was on, his visor up, and his dark eyes were warm on her. “You look astonishingly lovely in your new garments.”
Ellowyn felt warm and giddy at the sight of him. “That is because you have remarkable taste, my lord,” she flirted gently. “Thank you again for these lovely things.”
He looked like a man who was struggling to fight off a grin as he went to her and reached out, taking the hand that wasn’t holding the food. He kissed her fingers sweetly, his gaze lingering on her as she grinned coyly at him. It was a sweet little moment. Then, he tilted his head in the direction of the carriage.
“What do you think of your new coach?” he asked.
Ellowyn’s eyes widened as she looked at it. “This is for me?”
“Indeed,” he replied, putting the warm palm of her hand against his rough cheek. “The livery had it, evidently acquired from a traveling merchant who could not pay them for its storage. The stable master was more than happy to sell it to me.”
Ellowyn patted his cheek and removed her hand, stepping closer to the carriage and running a careful eye over it.
“The wheels look to be in good condition,” she commented, peering into the cab. It was double-sided, holding passengers on a rear-facing bench and a forward-facing bench. “The leather on the seats seems adequate. How much did you pay for it?”
Brandt wasn’t used to being questioned about his monetary transactions but he also knew that Ellowyn was a very astute businesswoman. He could see, in that moment, that his financial freedom and control was about to change. Ellowyn was used to controlling the purse strings for her family and he realized that was going to be the case within their marriage as well. It was the natural order of things. He felt very much as if he were answering to her as he replied.
“Five gold marks,” he told her. “When we reach Guildford, I have a particularly talented smithy that will restore it like new.”
Her eyebrows lifted at him. “Five gold marks?” she repeated, looking back at the carriage. “That seems a bit much. Perhaps I should speak with him and renegotiate the price.”
Brandt fought off a grin. “Not today,” he told her, opening up the door to the cab. “If we had the time, I would let you barter to your heart’s content, but we must depart immediately unless you are keen on having your father catch up to us.”
She sighed, perhaps in agreement, and he took it as a sign to assist her into the cab before she could argue further with him. Scooping her into his arms, he swept her up into the cab, depositing her neatly onto the seat. Alex, standing next to the carriage, handed her the wrapped bacoun through the window. Before she could thank him, Brandt sent the man back inside the inn on an errand to collect a heavy coverlet for his wife. Alex was off but the smell of the bacoun was heavy in the air as Ellowyn held the greasy parcel in her hand.
“Have you broken your fast yet?” she asked Brandt. “I have some wonderful food for you.”
Brandt shook his head. “No time,” he said. “We must depart.”
He started to move away but she stopped him, unwrapping the bacoun and extending a piece to him.
“Here,” she said in a tone that left no opportunity for declination. “Eat this. You must keep up your strength and we have a long ride ahead of us.”
Brandt reached for the meat because she told him to. Also, he didn’t want to upset her. It was easier to do as she asked rather than argue or refuse her. So he shoved it into his mouth and started to walk away when he realized that it was very good. He turned to say something to her about it but she thrust more at him, plus the basket of still-warm puffy cakes. She told him to take one, so he did, putting everything in his mouth and chewing it all down.
She was directing him to eat so he did, like a child being directed by his mother, and in little time he had scarfed down everything. He had crumbs and grease on his expensive gloves but he didn’t give it any notice. It was odd behavior from a man who did not take orders from anyone, now being bossed around by a slip of a woman. But he didn’t give it any thought and neither did Ellowyn. Again, it seemed to be the natural order of things and Brandt submitted quite willingly, loving it and not even realizing he was loving it. He was simply doing as he was told. It was the beginning of contentment he had never before experienced, a relationship with a woman he had never known to exist. It was symbiotic in every sense.
Shaking the crumbs off his fingers, he leaned into the door of the cab and kissed Ellowyn, mute thanks for being thoughtful enough to feed him. As he pulled his head out of the cab, he happened to glance at his knights standing several feet away. Dylan, Magnus, Stefan and Brennan were all watching him with rather curious express
ions on their faces. They had never seen anyone order Brandt around, either, and they were somewhat stunned by the fact that Ellowyn was tending to the man like a mother to her child. The mighty Duke of Exeter had a wife who brought out a softer side of the man they’d never seen before and their astonishment was understandable.
When they realized that Brandt was looking at them, they suddenly began moving about as if they had something better to do. Magnus and Stefan actually bumped into each other in their haste to scatter. Alex came out of the inn at that moment, bearing a coverlet and a pillow he had confiscated from the bed Ellowyn and Brandt had slept on the night before. He handed both items to Brandt, who turned away from his confused knights long enough to put the pillow behind Ellowyn’s back and cover her with the heavy blanket.
“There you are,” he said, tucking the coverlet around her legs. “You will be much more comfortable traveling like this.”
Ellowyn’s brow furrowed. “But the carriage will slow us down considerably,” she pointed out. “With my father pursuing us, I could just as easily ride a horse.”
He shook his head. “You will let me worry about that,” he said. “This carriage will travel much faster than you think providing the roads are in good repair.”
“And if they are not?”
“Then we shall have to remedy the situation at that time. Until then, enjoy the ride.”
With that, he took her hand and kissed it before securing the cab door closed. Ellowyn could hear him speaking with Dylan and the subsequent shouts of the knights as the men began to move out. The carriage lurched forward and she yelped, surprised, before settling in as the vehicle pulled out onto the road. Fortunately, the road was indeed in good repair so the ride was relatively smooth.
Chargers raced past the carriage, heading to the front of the column, and she caught sight of a big black beast as it whirled by the small carriage window. In new clothing and bundled up against the chill weather, Ellowyn had truthfully never traveled in such luxury and she wasn’t hard pressed to admit she liked it.
Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume 1 Page 91