Knight's Caress (14 page)

Glenna, being the boldest of the women, and recognized as Tedric’s betrothed, walked past them. With a flash of warning in her blue eyes, she ordered all of them to leave their lord alone. Quickly, they dispersed and someone shut the door. Lifting her bucket, she rained some water upon Tedric’s hair, and went about lathering it with a scented soap she’d taken from Amberlie’s chambers. “I have news, my lord,” she whispered softly, making a grand show of cleaning his long mane in case someone watched from the window. “Wulfgar plans to kill the Bastard on the morrow, during the hunt.”

Tedric grabbed Glenna’s wrist and stopped her. “He mustn’t. You must get word to him. My family is in danger—as are you—no, he cannot do this. I forbid it!”

“But—but, Tedric—I cannot find him. I know not where he is.” Glenna glanced to make certain no one was in earshot. “The king shall be slain by a stray arrow—who shall be able to prove—”

“Norman knights know their own arrows. By Christ’s blood, Glenna, is Wulfgar so dense?”

Tears choked Glenna’s throat. “He—we—didn’t think. I know not what to do! We only wanted to help.”

Sheer terror showed on Tedric’s countenance. “Get away from me,” he ordered none too softly. “Don’t help me again, for I need not your sort of help.” Glenna left him in tears.

For a long while he sat in the tub, staring moodily at the far wall. What was he going to do now? The Norman king had given him a bit of freedom as a test of his loyalty with his loved ones’ lives as the prize. William could still execute him, but if he were obedient and caused no trouble, then his family would most likely live. And now Wulfgar and Glenna were jeopardizing everyone’s futures.

Rising from the tub, he heard the door opening. Assuming it was Glenna again, he turned around to face her. “I told you to leave me alone,” he began, but instantly bit off his words at seeing Amberlie, who stood just a few feet away from him. In her arms, she carried men’s clothing.

“Oh! I am sorry,” she said, and swiftly turned her back to hurry toward the door.

“Wait!” Tedric pulled a towel around his waist. “I am covered, my lady. What do you want?”

Turning around, Amberlie saw that Tedric had indeed covered himself. Shyly, she inched toward a chair and laid the garments upon it. “Sir Christophe was kind enough to give you a tunic and hose. Sir Flaubert has volunteered his mantle and boots. I hope the clothes fit, for you are exceedingly large.” Amberlie flushed a deep crimson, and her gaze unwittingly strayed to his covered groin area and then to his face. “I mean you’re much taller than they and large of chest.”

“Thank you, my lady,” he said simply, holding the ends of the rough linen towel about his waist. “I shall thank Flaubert and Christophe when I see them.”

“They wanted you to look your best for the hunt tomorrow.”

“I appreciate their kindness.”

“Have you eaten yet?”

“Nay.”

“I shall have Runa prepare you a dish.”

“That is most kind of you, my lady.”

Amberlie hesitated a moment longer than was customary in such a situation. She couldn’t stop staring at the powerfully built man before her. Rivulets of water dripped down his slick, muscled chest like oils. One of his thighs was visible, the taut muscles bulging with his straddled stance. She swallowed hard, willing herself to look at his face—a face which was more than handsome with all that wet tawny hair slicked back and hanging to his shoulders. She couldn’t help but remember what she’d seen of his lower body when he’d turned to face her. And never in her life had she been so captivated and embarrassed. Indeed, Glenna was a fortunate woman. With a strength of will, Amberlie composed her features and managed to look and sound haughty, the perfect lady of the castle. “King William has advised me that he shall break his fast before dawn on the morrow and wishes for you to sleep in the great hall tonight with his retinue. I’ve ordered a pallet and blanket for you to be placed on the floor. You shall be under Sir Christophe’s protection. Consider yourself fortunate that you are still alive.”

Tedric gave a tiny bow. “I do, my lady.” Amberlie made a move to turn away, but Tedric said, “Why don’t you want me dead?”

“You know why. Having you live as a slave will be punishment enough for Henri.”

“But what about you? Why don’t you want me dead?”

Backing away, Amberlie shook her head. Tiny wisps of hair escaped from her headdress as she reached for the door handle. “I know not why,” she said, only knowing she must escape from Tedric’s spell over her, from the way she couldn’t stop staring at him.

“I think you know why, my lady, but are frightened to admit your own desires.”

Like a frightened sparrow, Amberlie took wing and hurried out of the room, slamming the door soundly behind her. She practically ran to the fortress-like protection of the keep and threw herself into her chores. There was much to do while the king and his knights were in residence, but despite all of the work and activity, Amberlie couldn’t stop thinking about Tedric and remembering how he looked as he stood naked and wet in the tub.

She doubted she’d ever forget.

Amberlie descended the stairs of the keep, dressed in a green bliaut with a rusty-brown mantle thrown over her head to blend in with the autumnal colors of the woods. Light had not yet broken when she entered the great hall to find the knights already breaking their fasts. William had finished eating minutes earlier, and already taken his leave to tend to his horse in the courtyard. She covertly glanced around for Tedric, but didn’t see him or Sir Christophe, which was just as well for she wasn’t eager to face Tedric this morning after having viewed him the day before. Even now just thinking about the incident caused her blood to warm her cheeks.

Sitting down to break her fast, Amberlie was met by Guy, who practically snarled at her. “Hurry and eat, the king awaits.”

Amberlie helped herself to a pear from a large bowl on the table which contained apples as well. “You’re rather grumpy and tense this morn. What ails you, Uncle?”

He shot her a withering look. “You know very well what is wrong with me, you traitor!”

“I, a traitor?” she asked in all innocence. “Kindly explain.”

“Tedric was to have died. The king would have ordered his death, if not for you. I wanted the man dead and you interfered, busy wench that you are.”

“You’re a sorry loser, I think.”

Guy leaned close to her; the fetid smell of last night’s ale hung heavily on his breath. “Listen to me,
Cherie
Amberlie, and understand my words. You shall marry me—I will make certain that William turns you and your lands over to me. You may have won the skirmish, but I shall win the battle, if it’s games you want to play.” Viciously, he pulled on his hunting gloves, just as the olifant sounded for all to mount. “Come along, the king is ready.” Guy stood and strode out of the keep. Amberlie followed along after him, wondering if the king would indeed turn her over to Guy as a bride. A chill enveloped her just to think about such an unspeakable union. She must speak to William about her marriage, and speak to him soon. There was no telling what Guy might talk the king into doing.

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Tedric knelt down on his haunches and measured the deer tracks in the soft, wet earth with his fingers. He’d earlier examined a number of scratches on a mulberry bush and the droppings made by their quarry. Clearly they were hunting a large stag, and Tedric had no doubt it was one he’d hunted only two seasons earlier, though it seemed like two centuries ago, when this land had belonged to him. Rising to his feet, he addressed William, who was on horseback. “Your prey is nearby, sire.”

William slid from the large destrier and motioned to his squire to bring his bow and arrow. “The animal, he is large?”

“Aye, I remember him. A most handsome and clever beast.”

“Ah,
bien.
But it is not the kill, eh, but the hunt which warms the blood.”

Tedric agreed, having always been an ardent huntsman, not so much for the kill as for the stalk. Yet it had always been important to provide food for the table. Still, he’d never had the heart to kill this large stag they now hunted for he was a majestic and noble animal. The knights gathered in a group behind the king, each with a bow and arrows, but Tedric guessed that not one would shoot at the animal for fear of hitting it and offending the king.

Not only did Tedric search for the stag, but also for any sign of Wulfgar. Somehow he’d have to signal to him to cease this mad plan of his to kill the king. He surveyed the woods for any sign of Wulfgar’s footprints or presence. So far, he’d seen nothing out of the ordinary. Each time he glanced around, he cursed inwardly to notice Amberlie, with Guy hovering at her side.

Why must he care so much about this woman who wanted to see him shackled for life in slave chains? He should leave her to Guy de Bayonne and forget her. But he couldn’t, and he worried that if he wasn’t careful, Amberlie de Fontaine would cause his ruination.

“The stag, he is there.” William pointed a long finger toward a heavily wooded portion of forest. Not more than two hundred feet away stood the large animal, apparently oblivious to the group of people who watched it dine on the leaves of a low shrub plant. Making ready his bow, William began to move stealthily forward, his gaze never wavering from his prey.

Though part of the hunting party, Amberlie was there only as a courtesy to the king and was quite bored with the whole affair. She got off her horse when a tiny chipmunk on the low branch of a huge, spreading oak tree caught her fancy. Drawn to the tiny creature, she quietly meandered toward the tree to get a better look at it.

Having centered his attention upon the king, Tedric caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. To his left, he discerned an arrow, pointed directly at the king from behind a giant oak tree. Wulfgar!

The blood pounded through Tedric’s temples, nearly deafening him. It sounded as if thousands of trampling feet ran through his head. Glancing wildly about, he saw that the others intently watched the king, waiting for the man to land the telling shot. No one saw the long arrow but himself—and Wulfgar had a clear view. His arrow wouldn’t miss its mark, and the king would fall dead at their feet.

Wasn’t this what Tedric wanted? No matter what happened to himself, whether he’d be run instantly through by William’s knights or hung, William would be dead and England would be free. Wild hope surged hotly through him as he watched Wulfgar’s arrow follow the king’s movements. Yet what other repercussions would such a death herald for England? What of his family? Could he just stand idly by and see the man mowed down before him? Only seconds were left before Wulfgar would loose his arrow upon the king, and Tedric was still undecided.

Tedric caught sight of Amberlie’s mantle, fluttering in the breeze. Nonchalantly, she strolled into his line of vision, innocently positioning herself between the arrow and the king. If Wulfgar pulled the bowstring now, she’d be the one killed, not William! Tedric wouldn’t—he couldn’t allow this to happen, not to Amberlie—”

“Amberlie, no!”

Before he was even aware of moving, Tedric dashed toward the startled woman, pushing her roughly aside to sprawl upon the grass like a baby sparrow who’d fallen from the nest. In his desire and haste to save Amberlie, Tedric had forgotten about his own safety. A sudden burning sensation streaked mercilessly through his side, and he knew Wulfgar’s arrow had found its mark in his own flesh.

Dropping to his knees, he heard Amberlie scream. The raised voice of the king shouted to the knights. Pandemonium broke loose in the forest. The knights ran hither and yon, swords drawn and ready to do battle against one lone man, but Tedric no longer cared. Somehow his head rested on Amberlie’s lap, and she actually cried tears over him, all the while praying to the Holy Virgin to spare his life. And he knew that even if he died at that moment, he had already found paradise.

~
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~

Old Gundred finished sewing the gaping wound, and then applied a smelly poultice to the raw and viciously red area. Tedric had lost a great deal of blood by the time he’d been brought from the forest to be placed in Amberlie’s chambers at the keep, much to Guy’s disapproval. But the king had ordered Amberlie to care for Tedric herself, and no one disobeyed the king.

Under Gundred’s watchful eye, she’d mixed a concoction of herbs and leaves that Gundred had brought with her. She followed the directions exactly for too much of the brew could kill instead of cure, and carefully lifted his head to force the liquid down his throat.

She finished wringing out a blood-streaked rag, one of many that had been used to cleanse the wound and stem the bleeding. The man had lost much blood and looked deathly pale.

“Shall he live?” Amberlie asked the old woman, gazing worriedly down at Tedric, who lay upon her bed. A large wolf pelt covered him, but already the man shook from chills.

“Only the mother goddess who gives life knows for certain. ‘Tis she who brings forth life each spring to burst anew upon the earth. Perhaps if my Lord Tedric has pleased her, she will let him live. I’ve done all I can for him.” Gundred shook her head, her mass of gray hair reaching to her waist like strands of moss. “He is a strong man, or was until his imprisonment in the pit. Ye could have prevented his capture, my lady. Ye are responsible for his downfall.”

“How dare you berate me. Tedric is a renegade, a murderer and a kidnapper. I did only what was expected of me.” But Amberlie held back tears of self-recrimination because Gundred spoke the truth. Never would she openly admit that she’d made a mistake in telling Guy where Tedric had been hiding. The man had been a hunted criminal, and she’d done her duty to her family and the king. But this was the second time that Tedric had saved her life. How much longer could she continue hating this man?

“Aye, my lady, but why do ye care to save his life now? If ye wish only to see him dead, then cease your ministrations and leave him to death. Mayhaps some tender affection lies within your bosom for him.”

Amberlie shook her head. “I care not for him, other than I would for any other person who is sick or injured. I don’t like to see someone suffer, that is all.”

“I see through ye, my lady. I know what ye feel.”

“You know nothing. Now get out, Gundred. I can care for him by myself.” Amberlie busied herself with tearing strips of cloth to bind Tedric’s wound at a later time and ignored the old woman, who wasn’t so easily put off.

“I can make ye a love charm, my lady. Something that will set Lord Tedric’s heart to pounding each time he sees ye. He’ll want no other but ye—if he lives, that is,” Gundred whispered into Amberlie’s ear, and gave a small cackle.

Amberlie had had enough. Her nerves were frayed from the day’s terrible events, and now here was an old woman giving vent to her heathen beliefs. It was all too much to endure. “Gundred, I want no part of your pagan beliefs, and I’m in no need of a love charm. Now please leave.”

“As ye wish, my lady, but I can help ye win any man ye want, be he knave, knight—or lord.” Her clear-eyed gaze turned to Tedric on the bed.

“Get out!”

Gundred shrugged her shoulders and shuffled to the door. “Silly, old hag,” Amberlie groused under her breath when she was alone with her patient. Love charms. How ridiculous! As if she’d seriously consider indulging in such a superstitious heathen belief. Aside from Gundred’s ability to cure, Amberlie doubted the woman served any useful purpose at all.

Completing her task, Amberlie placed her hand on Tedric’s forehead and found he burned with a fever, which was to be expected. His wound was deep, and probably he was in a great deal of pain, so it was better that he slept to regain his strength. But to look at him now no one would recognize him as the golden Saxon, a barbarian known for his strength and obstinacy. He was weak and helpless, tossing and turning as the fever rose, and Amberlie could only feel pity and concern.

Every few hours, she applied a fresh poultice and bathed his fevered brow with a wet cloth. That was all she could do for him, other than force the nasty-tasting brew she and Gundred had concocted down his throat. His fate was up to God and she prayed—but just to insure he’d be all right, she also said a prayer to the mother goddess.

~
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Magda and Lady Mabel, with Edytha following, visited the sick room later that day. Lady Mabel still didn’t look well enough to be walking around, but she insisted that she be allowed to see her son and Amberlie wouldn’t refuse her. Her eyes filled with tears as she reached for her son’s hand. “He runs a high fever. What have you done for him?” she asked Amberlie. When Amberlie explained, she nodded and asked if she could sit with him for a while. Amberlie agreed, and settled the old woman in a comfortable chair beside the bed, where Mabel took over stroking his burning brow with wet cloths. Edytha sat in mute silence on the floor near her mother, tears streaming freely down her face. “Will Tedric go to heaven, Mother?” she finally asked.

“I pray not, child.”

“Then do you pray for him to go to hell?” she asked, misunderstanding her mother’s response.

“I pray that the Lord takes him not away from us.”

“Does she pray too?” Edytha pointed to Amberlie.

“I know not, for she is a Norman and thinks not like us,” Mabel softly whispered to her daughter, but Amberlie heard her and tensed. No matter that she was caring for their kinsman, these people still saw her as the enemy.