The Falls of Erith (20 page)

She
gazed down at the wounded knight, feeling distress at his plight. “Linen to
bind the wound. Boiled linen if you can get it.”

He
left the tent without another word.  Gray bent over Geoff, again inspecting the
wound but not wanting to start yet without the things she asked for. She waited
only a small amount of time before Graehm reappeared with a large iron pot of
steaming water.  Gray bade him to set it down beside her. The first thing she
did was have him pour some of it on her hands to wash them.  Then he stood
there and hovered, watching Geoff with concerned eyes as Gray wrung out her wet
hands.

Braxton
returned less than a minute after Graehm’s arrival. “My men are setting about
to boiling some linen right now,” he said. “Is there anything more?”

She
shook her head. “I must wait for the other items I asked for before I can
begin.”

Braxton
was about to leave the tent again in search of Dallas when the knight suddenly
burst into the tent bearing a wooden box of mysterious items.  His face was
flushed as if he had been running, and there was little doubt with the speed in
which he had returned that he hadn’t run.

“I
believe that I was able to secure what the lady requested,” he said as handed
the box over to Braxton. 

 Braxton
peered at the items. “Did you have any trouble finding the apothecary?”

Dallas
shook his head, watching as Braxton handed the box to Gray. “Nay,” he said.
“Although I am not quite sure why I purchased a pungent ointment guaranteed to
attract women by the dozens. I did not have time to argue with him so I just
paid for it.”

Gray
laughed softly, looking up at Braxton. He, too, was grinning. Then he shook his
head helplessly. “Never mind,” he told his knight. “But you are sure you got
everything else?”

“I
am.”

Gray
inspected the contents of the box and eventually nodded her head. The first
thing she pulled out was an earthenware jug with a heavy plug of cloth shoved
into the top of it. She pulled out the plug and smelled it, wrinkling her nose.

“Whiskey,”
she sniffed. Then she looked at Braxton. “I will need your help in holding him.
He’ll not like the sting of this, not in the least.”

“What
are you going to do?”

“Pour
it on the wound to cleanse it.”

Braxton
lifted an eyebrow. “You are not going to have him drink it to dull the pain?”

She
shook her head. “In this case, it would do much better on the wound than in his
belly. You must trust me.”

He
did. Graehm took hold of one arm while Dallas took the other arm and threw
himself over Geoff’s body. Braxton took the legs.  When the knights were
property braced, Braxton nodded at her.

She
had been right. Geoff hadn’t liked the sting of the whiskey burn one bit.

CHAPTER
NINE

It
was dusk in Cumbria, a magical time when the last threads of daylight were
woven into the tapestry of the coming night.  Gray usually enjoyed the dusk, as
there was something innately peaceful in the time before the fall of darkness. 
But tonight she found no real peace; sitting beside Geoff’s sleeping form, she
played a waiting game in contest to see who could control the knight’s future.
If she won the match, he would live. If she lost, then Death would claim him.  It
was difficult not to be discouraged as time ticked on and the knight remained
unconscious.

The
tournament had ended some time ago and most of the contestants and fans had
already left. A few hung around, mostly to catch a glimpse of Braxton and his
men as they milled in and out of the larger of the two crimson tents.  Though
Braxton had withdrawn from the competition in order to assist Gray with Geoff,
Dallas and Graehm had continued at Braxton’s insistence.  Graehm was unseated
in his match by Rickard Burton, who then went up against Dallas for the semi
final round.  Dallas managed to unseat Burton, causing the man to display a
full-blown temper tantrum on the tournament field.  The crowd had laughed him
right out of the arena.

The
final round was between Dallas and Sir Niclas, the same knight who had
accidentally driven splinters into Geoff’s neck.  The match, and the prize, was
meant to have been a victory in Geoff’s name, but Dallas lost in three very
hard-fought glances and the black knight from Northumbria emerged the victor. 
It had been a bitter defeat to accept, but Dallas had done so graciously.
Braxton was just grateful he wasn’t down another knight; given de Aughton’s
reputation, that could have very well been the case.

After
stitching up Geoff’s neck, Gray had decided it was best not to move him for the
night and Braxton had agreed. But they hadn’t planned on making a night of it,
so Braxton took Dallas with him to procure food for the evening.  The men at
arms, meanwhile, built a roaring bonfire in the area between the two tents
where Brooke, Edgar and Norman now sat. A couple of soldiers set to fashioning
a spit, much to Brooke’s curiosity. She sat on a stump one of the men had found
for her, eating candied pieces of sweet pumpkin that Braxton had purchased for
her and watching the activity.  She sucked down the pumpkin treat, nearly
oblivious to the real reason why they were still in Milnthorpe.  In her young
mind, this was all a grand adventure and she intended to enjoy every minute.

When
the spit was finally ready and the sunset cast gray and purple shadows across
the sky, Brooke glanced over to see Edgar glaring at her.  Mouth full of
pumpkin, she frowned at him.

“Why
do you look at me like that, Edgar?” she asked.

He
started to open his mouth but Norman smacked him in the head to shut him up.
The move only infuriated Brooke.

“Norman,
why did you hit him?” she demanded. “Tell me why Edgar is glowering at me.  Has
my face gone green?”

Norman
looked at her; he was a steady young lad, even-tempered, in contrast to his
mercurial younger brother.  “Your face has not gone green, my lady,” he said.
“Edgar is simply exhausted. We all are. It has been a trying day.”

His
calm explanation satisfied her until Edgar grumbled loud enough to be heard.
“’Tis her we should be roasting on the pit, the big glutton.”

Brooke’s
eyebrows rose and she leapt to her feet. “What did you say?”

He
looked at her, his young face dark. “You heard me.”

Norman
tried to intervene, but Edgar wouldn’t let him. Bad ankle and all, he rolled
away from his brother as the youth tried to slap a hand over his mouth.

“You
are a big, fat glutton, Brooke Serroux,” Edgar shouted, with Norman’s hand
half-over his mouth. “You ate all of that sweet pumpkin for yourself!”

Brooke’s
mouth popped open in outrage. “It was mine!”

“You
could have shared it. I am hungry, too!”

Brooke’s
open mouth went into a thin angry line.  She rushed Edgar, being prevented from
totally destroying him by Norman, who had the unhappy task of being wedged in
between the combatants. The older boy was on the receiving end of a few sharp
slaps.  Norman eventually turned away from Edgar to grasp Brooke around the
body, lifting her up and carrying her away from his brother. She screamed and
beat on Norman’s back.

Inside
the larger tent, Gray could not help but hear her daughter’s yelling.  Geoff
hadn’t moved so she dared to rise and peek outside to see what was going on.
All she saw was Norman carrying her daughter off into the darkness. She
sprinted out of the tent and caught up with them.

“Norman,”
she tried not to sound panicked. “What are you doing?”

Norman
immediately set Brooke on the ground, whereupon she bolted back in Edgar’s
direction. The lad, unable to run, put up his arms as Brooke came down on him
with hurling fists. Shocked, Gray ran after her daughter with Norman on her
heels. She reached out and pulled her child off of the injured young boy.

“Enough,”
Gray shouted at her daughter.

Since
Gray never shouted, Brooke immediately came to a halt. Her big eyes gazed fearfully
into angry amber orbs.

“But…
Mama, he.…”

Gray
shut her down with a harsh shake of the arms. “I said enough,” she growled. “I
do not know what vendetta you have against this boy, but this is the end of it.
Any more violence against him and I shall take a switch to you. Do you hear me?
I’ll spank you within an inch of your life.”

Unbeknownst
to Gray, Braxton and Dallas had ridden up behind her. There was a gutted pig
strapped across Dallas’ horse. Dismounting, Braxton watched curiously as Gray
laid into her daughter.

Brooke’s
eyes welled. “But, Mama, he was so very mean to me. He called me a glutton.”

“And
so you are,” Gray didn’t mince words. “You have been eating since we arrived,
begging money from Sir Braxton for your selfish wants. Sir Braxton is not
obligated to buy you anything, Brooke. He does it from the kindness of his
heart and Lord knows why he indulges you after the way you have treated him,
but he does. You are selfish and petty and I am ashamed of you.  If your
manners were kinder and more gracious, then perhaps this boy would have no
cause to insult you. But you deserve every word.”

Brooke
burst into tears. Gray did not want to comfort her, knowing she must teach her
child a lesson.  But it was difficult to restrain her motherly instincts as she
watched Brooke sob.  She let go of her daughter.

“Go
and sit down by the fire,” she instructed, her tone less harsh. “You will think
on what I have said and amend your behavior accordingly.”

Weeping,
Brooke wandered over to her stump and sat heavily.  The mood around the fire
was somber as Norman and Edgar tried not to look at her. Braxton, having
witnessed the entire event, slowly made his way over to Gray.

“My
lady?” he said to catch her attention.

She
turned to him, startled. “I am sorry; I did not hear you approach.”

He
smiled faintly at her. “I know.” His eyes moved to his squires, to Brooke. “Is
everything all right?”

Gray
nodded, sensing he had probably heard some of her tirade. “It will be,” she
gathered her skirts and moved back in the direction of the large tent. “Sir
Geoff has not yet awoken.”

Braxton
followed her into the tent.  Inside, it was eerie and dark but for the soft
light given off by one fat taper near the knight’s bedside. Geoff was on his
back, his neck and left shoulder heavily bandaged, and breathing deeply.  Gray
resumed her seat beside him, putting her hand on his forehead to feel for a
temperature rise.

“He’s
still cool,” she said. “Tomorrow would be the soonest we could expect a
change.”

He
nodded. “Will he be able to travel back to Erith come the dawn?”

She
shrugged. “If there is no change, I would think so.”

Satisfied,
his gaze moved from Geoff to Gray.  She looked so lovely and serene and his
attention shifted.

“You
and Brooke can sleep in the smaller tent tonight,” he said. “My knights and I
will sleep in here with Geoff.”

She
looked up at him. “I would prefer to sleep here where I can watch him.”

He
shrugged. “Then you and Brooke shall have this tent and we will take the
smaller one.”

“I
am sorry. I know it will be crowded.”

He
waved a hand at her. “That’s not it at all. ‘Tis simply that the smaller tent
is warmer. I thought you would be more comfortable.”

She
smiled. “You are most thoughtful. Thank you.”

He
returned her smile, feeling the warmth spark between them again. “You are most
welcome.”

Their
gaze lingered on one another until Braxton moved towards her, crouching down
next to her. He was very close, the heat from his big body radiating against
her.  He looked at her as if he wanted to say something, but no words would
come. He couldn’t quite articulate the new-found feelings he was experiencing.
So he reached out and took her hand instead, bringing it to his lips.  She
watched him, his face inches from hers.

“Braxton?”
she asked softly.

“Hmmm?”
he murmured, his lips still against her hand.

“Why
are you so good to us?”

He
smiled. “Because you deserve it. And because I want to.”

She
studied his face, trying to detect anything about it that wasn’t being totally
truthful.  “I am sorry that Brooke is so demanding and ungracious.”

He
shook his head, kissing her fingers at the same time. “She is neither. She is
simply a young girl, with all of the wants and dreams and hopes of a young
girl. She will settle down soon enough.”

“But
you spoil her.”

He
lifted an eyebrow. “You let me worry about that.” With one hand, he reached
beneath his chest armor and fumbled in the mail. He suddenly drew forth a small
wooden box with a ribbon tied around it. The ribbon was a little smashed, but
it did not dampen the Gray’s thrill when he extended it to her. “Speaking of
spoiling, this is for you.”