Serpent (45 page)

             
That brought a weak smile to her lips. “Ivor has not yet returned,” she said. “And Kevin… he wore your father’s armor and the men thought he was you. It inspired them greatly, Bhrodi, and the raid was very disruptive to Edward, I believe. We burned a great many of the tents in his encampment. But Kevin was captured.”

             
Bhrodi’s pale face tightened with concern. “You know this for certain?”

             
She nodded, rubbing her cheek against his open palm in a sweet gesture. “Aye,” she said quietly. “I was cornered by some English knights and surely would have been captured had my father not saved me. But there were rumors that you were captured in the raid but I told my father that Kevin had worn your father’s armor. The English as well as the Welsh thought it was you. My father went off to save him but before he did, he told me to ride back to Rhydilian. He also said that he would be coming here shortly.”

             
Bhrodi’s mind was muddled from the slight fever he’d had most of the morning as well as the injury in general. Even now as he listened to Penelope breathless assessment of the raid upon Edward’s camp, he was struggling to process what she was telling him. It was a good deal of information and it took him a few moments to digest it.

             
“Your father saved me after the morning star struck,” he muttered. “Now he has saved you also. We can only pray that he is successful with Hage. It would seem that your father is really a guardian angel masquerading as a knight.”

             
Penelope nodded, her tears gone for the moment. “If anyone can save him, my father can,” she said. “I did not even have the opportunity to thank him for what he did for you. I did, at least, thank him for returning you to me.”

             
Bhrodi stroked her hair, pondering The Wolfe and all the man had done for them. So much had happened that it was almost beyond his comprehension at the moment. Lost to his thoughts, he heard Penelope’s soft voice fill his ear.

             
“Papa said he would be here soon,” she said. “I did not have the chance to ask him what he meant. Do you know?”

             
Bhrodi broke away from his thoughts and looked at her. “Nay,” he said. “I cannot imagine why he would return here.”

             
Penelope contemplated her own question. “Mayhap he is coming to see how you are faring,” she said. “I am sure he is very concerned.”

             
Bhrodi lifted his dark eyebrows in thought. “I never knew I could inspire such loyalty from the English,” he said. “Your father, your brothers, and Hage... all of them rushing to assist me however they can. It is quite puzzling, actually. I was always under the impression that the English were selfish bastards.”

             
Penelope smiled faintly. “No more so than the Welsh, I suppose,” she said. “Mayhap someday you can return the favor.”

             
He reached up and gently pinched her nose. “Gladly,” he said, smiling. But the smile soon faded. “But I cannot do anything until the surgeon releases me from this damnable bed.”

             
Penelope’s smile grew; if he was complaining then he must be feeling better. At least, she hoped so. “What has he told you?” she asked. “How bad are your injuries?”

             
He made a face as the surgeon chose that moment to enter the room. He was carrying cups with him and one of them was steaming. Bhrodi watched the man warily.

             
“He says that the morning star dug holes into my body down by my hip and grazed the bone, taking a chunk out of it,” he replied. “It miraculously missed anything terribly vital but it did nick my intestines, which someone had the foresight to seal up with honey until my own surgeon was able to get his hands on me somewhere near the ferry crossing. Gwyllim told me that Ianto found the surgeon back in Aber tending some of my men and brought him to me. So far, he’s cleansed the wounds three times with wine and honey, and he’s forced me to drink some horrible concoction that smells like rotted food but one that he swears will keep the poison away. He says he learnt it from his Irish cousin but I am not entire sure I want to drink anything the Irish have discovered. It might very well kill me.”

             
Penelope laughed softly; he was speaking almost as if he felt well again but his voice was somewhat weak, reminding her of how sick he truly was. “But you must take it,” she said firmly. “You must let him heal you. I must have you well again, husband.”

             
He smiled faintly at her, reaching out to touch her dirty cheek. “And I must become well again if I am to keep you from running off and fighting the English,” he murmured. “Promise me something,
caria
.”

             
“What is that?”

             
His expression grew serious. “Promise me that you will not ride off to battle again, at least not without discussing it with me first,” he said. “Will you swear?”

             
Penelope nodded contritely. “I swear.”

             
“It would have destroyed me had something happened to you.”

             
“It would?”

             
“Of course it would.”

             
She smiled timidly. “Then… then the things you said to me yesterday,” she said softly, “you really meant them?  You did not say them simply because you thought you were dying?”

             
He frowned. “I never say anything I do not mean,” he said, eyeing her. “Did
you
say them because you thought I was dying?”

             
She shook her head firmly. “I meant what I said.”

             
He pushed. “Are you sure?” he asked. “After all, a dead man would not hold you to your word.”

             
She scowled although it was lightly done. “That is a terrible thing to say!”

             
He laughed softly. “Then tell me again what you told me yesterday and I shall believe you.”

             
She flushed a dull red, embarrassed because she was unused to expressing her feelings for him. Still, nothing had ever felt so right. She would be quite happy to gush out her feelings for him daily for the rest of her life because she meant every word of it. She had risked her life for him. Her heart was full of the man and his beauty.

“I love you, husband,” she murmured. “I love you very much.”

              His smile turned soft and sweet. “And I love you, my little knight,” he whispered. “But no more riding into battle without my permission. Simply to think on it makes me feel faint.”

             
She nodded patiently. “I swore that I would not. I will not go back on my word.”

             
He stroked her dirty cheek again, smiling at her, not entirely sure she was being truthful with him. In discussions he’d had with her brothers earlier in the day when they had returned from the raid on Edward’s camp, he was coming to realize his wife was no ordinary woman.

T
rue, he’d known she had been raised as a knight and he knew she was having difficulty letting that part of her life go in order to become a wife and not a warrior, but he was coming to see that asking her to become something other than what she was had been a mistake. She was strong, fierce, and loyal. Aye, she was a fine wife. And she was a fine warrior, too.

             
As Bhrodi pondered that thought, Tacey entered the room. They didn’t see her at first because she stood respectfully in the doorway in the shadows. When they didn’t notice her right away, she thumped on the door jamb. When Bhrodi and Penelope finally looked over at her, she smiled timidly.

             
“May I come in?” she asked.

             
Penelope waved her over. “Come in, sweetheart,” she said. “How are you feeling today?”

             
Tacey waddled into the room, her hand on her back. “Tight,” she said, patting her stomach. “My belly feels very tight.”

             
Penelope gave her a lop-sided grin. “I am sure that is because he is growing large and is nearly ready to come.”

             
Tacey made her way to the bed, getting a look at Penelope close-up. “You are very dirty,” she commented. “The serving women told me you left last night with my brother’s men. Where did you go?”

             
Tacey had been confined to her room during the entire episode of gathering the men, planning for, and then riding to Edward’s encampment. Therefore, she knew very little and it was probably best that way. In her condition, she didn’t need to know about frightening situations that didn’t concern her. Bhrodi cleared his throat softly.

             
“You should be worried about me and not where Penelope went during the night,” he scolded lightly. “Moreover, if she had wanted you to know, she would have told you.”

             
Tacey lowered her gaze remorsefully and Penelope took pity on her. “You were right,” she said, changing the subject. “I am very dirty. Will you help me bathe?”

             
Tacey lifted her head and nodded eagerly. “I will tell the serving women to bring the tub,” she said. “Where will you bathe?”

             
Penelope cast Bhrodi a glance. “Would it disturb you too much?”

             
He crooked a finger at her and when she leaned in, he grasped her gently by the neck to pull her close. “It will make me mad with desire,” he whispered against her ear, “and I can do nothing about it.”

             
Penelope was starting to flush red again. Unused to the sexual flirtations between men and women, she was unnerved, embarrassed, and excited all at the same time, but she was mostly embarrassed at the moment because Tacey was looking at her and was undoubtedly noting her reaction. Penelope didn’t want to have to answer any curious questions.

“Let me bathe in your chamber,” she told Tacey. “We must leave Bhrodi to rest.”

              Tacey nodded and fled the room as Penelope wearily rose to her feet. The surgeon, who had been busying himself at a table near the bed since entering the chamber, was now heading for Bhrodi with bowls in his hands. Bhrodi eyed the bowls.

             
“What black magic do you have in there?” he asked in English. “Do you think to cast a spell on me, you wicked sorcerer?”

             
The surgeon had no idea what he was saying but Penelope giggled. As the old man bent over him and began fussing with the bandages, Penelope blew him a kiss.

             
“Be brave, husband,” she said. “I shall be upstairs should you need me.”

             
Bhrodi lifted a hand to her. “Hurry back,” he said. “I am not sure I can stand an over-amount of time away from you. Already I miss you.”

             
It was a sweet thing to say. Penelope did indeed hurry with her bath but when she returned, warm and washed and clean, she found her husband sound asleep.

             
She fell asleep next to him.

⌘

As the sun rose steadily and approached the nooning hour, the encampment of Edward, King of England, was nearly a smoldering ruin. Hours after the Welsh rebels, led by Bhrodi de Shera, had tried to burn him out, there was still a great deal of confusion and reorganization going on because they had lost a great deal of material and stores in the fire. Now, they were pulling weapons, protection, gear, and other warfare items out of the rubble and hoping to salvage them. The hit by Bhrodi and his men had been sound, and Edward was currently picking up the pieces.

He was also in the process of deciding what to do about the fact that de Shera had escaped from
de Wolfe’s custody. He was absolutely furious but trying to keep his temper in check. It would do no good to scream at these men; they were old men, seasoned veterans, and they knew exactly how much trouble they were in. It would be of no use to shout it at them. What mattered now was what to do about it and as he stood in his tent, one of the only ones that had not been set completely ablaze, that was what Edward was trying to focus on – a solution. But it was a struggle.

“I trusted you, de Wolfe,”
he said, displeasure evident in his tone. “You and your minions are much better knights than what you are suggesting. How is it possible that de Shera bested all three of you and escaped? Well?”

William was standing a few feet away from Edward, legs braced apart and his big arms crossed. He was sporting a lovely black eye, courtesy of Kieran. When he had returned from his unfruitful search for Thomas and Edward, he had found Paris and Kieran battered and beaten
. When they had explained why, he had understood completely and that was when Kieran had punched him in the face. There had to be evidence of a fight and William was the only man not showing nicks or bruises. In order to convince Edward, he needed at least one injury, and indeed he received one; a
good
one. The bruise spread across his entire right eye and onto his temple. But it wasn’t enough to make the king sympathetic to the one-eyed knight who now had a damaged good eye.