Seize The Dawn (27 page)
Authors: Shannon Drake
"I need to go home."
"Why?" His question was one of surprise rather than anger.
"There's someone I left behind. I'd like to bring her here.
"If you're taken by the English, and any man recognizes you as a man gone to the enemy, you'll be arrested, face a mock trial, and probably a brutal death," he warned.
Gregory shrugged. "The men with me were not from Clarin; nor did they know I changed my allegiance. They were too busy running when you said the word to realize I'd been left behind. At any rate, sir, I don't intend to hand myself over at the castle. Just slip home, and then away."
"Who are you going back for?" Brendan asked cautiously. Margot was the only woman who had ever traveled in their company. She was indisputably with Eric, who was a frightening prospect for any man, and she was careful in helping when hiding in the woods preparing food—and living under the most extreme circumstances.
Gregory smiled. "Not a woman, sir. Well, yes, a woman. My sister; she is two years older, and all I have in the world. If I am ever recognized or discovered, as you warned, they may seize her, harm her ..."
"Of course. You have my permission. Take the sorrel mare over there; she is a Scottish pony, and can't be recognized as any mount from an Englishman we might have captured or killed."
"Aye, sir, thank you. I'll be back soon enough."
Brendan nodded, watching as Gregory took the horse, waved, and started off.
Eric came to stand by him. "Where's he off to?"
"England."
"Had enough of the woods, eh?"
"No. He's going home for his sister."
Eric shook his head. "His sister?"
"Aye."
"He'll not be back."
"I warrant, he will."
"Um. He'll come back with an army of Englishmen, ready to ride into the forest, and furrow us all out."
Brendan shook his head. "He'll be back. I know it."
"Aye? Do you know it?" Eric demanded. "Or do you think he'll bring back some word of the countess."
"Both," Brendan said curtly, and mounting his horse, he began to ride.
Eleanor ceased to worry about Isobel as Alain began to fail.
She didn't understand what was ailing him. He tired easily; he had since their marriage. But he had never suffered so wretchedly as he seemed to do now. His stomach emptied on him time and again; there were days when he could barely get out of bed.
They talked frequently in those days; he told her that yes, he had sent men to Liverpool, but he had discovered nothing. She told him what Isobel had said, yet held back the information that she was indeed carrying a child. Brendan's child. It seemed too soon. She would tell him in time. And she prayed that he would believe that she had never betrayed him after the marriage, as she had vowed that she would not.
Then, the days when he was well enough to talk began to come few and far between.
She spent hours with him, soothing his brow with cool water, just sitting by his side. She sent for the village doctor, who bled him and leeched him—and seemed to make him worse. On a day when the doctor had come and Alain had cried out throughout the treatments, she threw the doctor out angrily, swearing that he would kill her husband, rather than cure him.
He seemed to rally; then, three days later, he was sicker. Isobel came to the room, asking after him, sweetly, solicitously.
When she left, Alain said dryly, "She's looking to see if I'm dead yet."
"Alain! Please ..."
"Perhaps she doesn't realize you can re-marry."
She shook her head. "I will never re-marry."
"Then you'll allow her to produce a two-headed monster to steal your father's heritage."
Eleanor bowed her head, trembling. She knelt by the side of the bed, holding his hands. She shook her head. "Alain, it's time that I tell. She frightens me, because what she says is true. Her offspring—two-headed or other—will not have Clarin. I'm expecting a child." Tears stung her eyes. 'I am quite certain now, but I swear to you, once our marriage vows were spoken, I did not betray you. It was before—"
His hand shook, but he touched her head.' 'Eleanor, I know."
"I did not see him again—"
"Eleanor, I know, my dear. He was at the church. I saw him there. I saw him walk away."
"What?" she said, startled.
"Aye, Brendan came to the service. He did not wait for it to end, but left the church, and the Scots rode to Calais that day."
She laid her head against his shoulder, shaking. "I would never have hurt you in any way—"
"Eleanor, a child is a blessing."
"But the world is so dangerous! And I must ask you ... if you'll allow me ..." she whispered.
"Eleanor—"
"With your permission only, I'll let the world believe—"
"I will be proud if you let the world believe the child is mine. Does anyone know?"
Eleanor nodded. "Bridie, but no one else. I wanted to wait. Until I could be certain that... that I was expecting, and that I... could carry the child."
"You won't be able to keep it a secret much longer."
"Alain, Bridie is ..."
"Ah, yes, of course, she fell in love with one of the fellows as well."
"She does love him. I have tried to think of a way—"
"The fellow must know. And if she wishes to go to Scotland, he'll be a groom."
"Alain—"
"I will see to it."
She smiled. He meant it. He would do it.
"As for me, Alain, I will tell no one else—yet. Isobel may talk all that she wants. I want you to get well, first."
"Aye, my lady, I would like nothing better than to announce this together." He was quiet a moment. "You can never let Brendan know that the child is his. He would move the earth— and lose his fool head—to claim it."
"Why? He may have ..."
"Scattered dozens of children in a dozen places?" Alain asked, and she blushed. "Nay, lady, I think not. He is fiercely proud, and comes from a race that takes great store in a family name, and in their heritage. I feared, indeed, that he would come for you in the midst of the wedding."
"But he did not."
"You had told him you wanted it."
"And I did."
Alain smoothed her hair. "You wanted to do what was right I hope it was right my dear."
"I hope that it was right as well. I hope that I have not hurt you. England has made you ill, and you're suffering so."
"I have never suffered to be near you. And you have made me very proud, pretending always that I remain a robust and virile knight, a husband in truth."
"Alain."
"Aye, Eleanor."
"You are a husband in every important way."
"You are too kind."
"Nay, my lord, you are too kind. And I do love you."
She heard his soft sigh. "As you loved your father."
"Alain—"
"It is enough."
"And don't worry. I will see to the fate of your maid."
But he could not do so.
Three days later, he had a violent setback.
In the middle of the night he awoke. She heard him choking and came rushing into the room. To her honor, he had staggered up. He clutched the headboard; blood trailed from his lips.
"Alain!" she shrieked, and came running to him. She helped him back to the bed, caught a cloth and water, and wiped his face. He was stark white; he heaved. He tried to speak.
"I'll call the doctor!" she assured him.
The doctor! For all the good that he had done! But she was helpless now herself, and she burst out into the hall, shouting for help.
Alfred burst from his chamber, obviously from a deep sleep.
Corbin and Isobel emerged as well.
It was equally obvious they had not been sleeping.
"Alfred, please, someone must go for the doctor; it's Alain, he's taken a terrible turn ..."
Alfred steadied her. "Go back to him. I'll get the doctor."
She rushed back into the room. Alain was up again, doubled over, biting into his lip to keep from crying out with the pain.
She held him, staying close, trying to stop his ragged shaking as the attacks seemed to seize him over and over again; it was as if he would be sick to his stomach—yet the insides of his stomach already seemed to be out. She tried cool cloths, and a sip of water, but the water came back, and he groaned with the pain seizing him.
The doctor arrived. He recommended cures that made no sense to Eleanor; there was nothing in him, but the doctor meant to purge him.
As they spoke, Alain began to toss on the bed.
He cried out suddenly.
"It is as if I'm poisoned, poisoned!"
They both stared at him. Isobel, in the corner of the room, leaped to her feet. "Oh, my God! Oh, my God!"
"He is not poisoned!" Eleanor said contemptuously. "Doctor, please—"
"Eleanor, Eleanor, where's Eleanor?" Alain called out.
She rushed to him. "I'm here, I'm here!" she said, holding him, the dear white head to her breast.
"Eleanor, the pain ..."
"Oh, Alain
"Poison!" he said, and started to toss and turn. "As if I'm poisoned ..."
"Alain, Alain, my poor Alain!" she whispered. She stared at the doctor. "You can do nothing to cause him more pain! You must help him!"
But even as she spoke, Alain began to thrash with such a violence that she was thrown from him. He screamed, winding into a tight fetal position on the bed.
And then, he went still.
She rushed back to him, taking him into her arms. He rolled slightly, staring up at her, his mouth working.
"Eleanor ..." he whispered.
And then he died.
She felt it as the life went out of him, felt the change as his spirit left him, as death claimed him. In her arms, his hand still upon her own, a trickle of blood on his chin once again, his wise brown eyes still open on hers.
A sob escaped her, and she bit into her lip. Tears slipped silently from beneath her lashes.
She brought her fingers to his eyelids, closing them.
"Rest well, dear friend!" she whispered.
She cradled his form to her, holding him close, needing the warmth that would too quickly escape from his body.
"Eleanor—" Alfred began. "He is gone."
"I know."
"Come away," Corbin said, walking to stand behind her, placing a gentle hand upon her shoulder.
"Please ... I need a few moments with him alone."
They were all silent. No one had moved. She didn't even realize it at first, she was so lost in the pain of seeing him suffer so ... and losing him.
But then the silence wore on, and she looked up, and even Alfred was staring at her strangely.
The doctor was the one who spoke, walking forward suddenly.
"Poison!" he said. "We shall see."
Chapter 14
"How dare you!" she cried out with such fury in her voice that they all backed away. She was shaking; hands clenched into fists at her side. "How dare you even think ... get out! Get out, all of you!"
She started forward with such a fury that the doctor disappeared with an astonishing speed. The others followed him.
Isobel the last.
She closed the door behind her as she left.
The silence in the room settled over Eleanor. She stood still for several long minutes, then the anger drained from her, and all she felt again was the pain, the deep anguish, that such a fine and noble man should die in such excruciating pain.
She went back to the bed, where he lay. The warmth was fading from him; his body began to stiffen. She held him to her again for a long time, her tears fading upon him. She rocked him, just holding him.
Then slowly, she began to wonder if he had been poisoned. He had suffered such violent spasms. She had seen rats die so, when they had set out poisons in the barn ...
