The Falls of Erith (41 page)

As
Brooke stood near the lancet window and dreamed of a better time, a body
suddenly appeared in the window.  Brooke shrieked and rushed at it, trying to
push it through, but the body in the opening protested vehemently.

“Brooke,
stop!” It was Edgar, wedged into the skinny window. “Stop pushing! You are
going to kill me!”

Brooke
shrieked again when she realized who it was and she grabbed hold of Edgar
instead, pulling him through the window.  The youth fell to the floor with a
thud, drawing Gray from the other room.  Gray came running into the entry, her
eyes wide at her husband’s squire.

“Edgar!”she
exclaimed. “Why are you here?”

Edgar
was filthy and had a nice cut on his right forearm but was otherwise unharmed. 
He stood up and rubbed his elbow where he had smacked it against the floor.

“Sir
Braxton sent me,” he said as he dashed between the women and threw the big iron
bolt on the entry door.  He yanked open the door and shouted to those below.
“Up here!”

Gray
closed her eyes tightly at the sound her husband’s name, fairly close to
collapse. “Braxton is well?” she asked the boy.

Ladders
were being propped up against the keep, coming to rest just beyond the bottom
of the door frame.  Edgar steadied them as he answered.

“Aye,
m’lady,” he said. “He is well. So is Sir Dallas. But Sir Graehm took an arrow
to the chest yesterday and died.”

Gray
murmured a prayer for both Braxton’s safety and Graehm’s death. “What of
Geoff?” Gray wanted to know. “He was caught outside when all of this happened
and he is not nearly healed from his neck wound.”

A
ladder was being raised to the edge of the door from the bailey below.  Edgar
held the vertical post firm as men began to mount the ladder from below.

“He
is well, too,” the lad said. “Not a scratch.”

Gray
was relieved beyond words.  She stood there, pale and trembling, as Braxton was
the first one to reach the top of the ladder. One look at his wife and he
propelled himself off the ladder and into her arms. He was grimy, sweaty,
smelly and exhausted, but it didn’t matter. Gray clung to him, weeping softly.

“All
is calm, sweet,” he squeezed her so tightly that he was sure he heard bones
crack. Then his lips began moving over her ears and cheeks. “Are you well?”

She
sniffled, wiping away the tears of joy and relief. “Fine,” she murmured. “Just
a bit hungry. We’ve not had anything to eat for a day or so.”

He
was already nodding even as the words left her mouth, snapping orders to Edgar,
who leapt out the lancet window and took the rope down to the bailey because
Dallas was on the ladder.

“Edgar
will bring some food,” Braxton told her, holding her face in his dirty hands
just to get a look at her. “You appear tired. Have you not slept?”

She
was more concerned with him than with her own needs. “Do not worry about me,”
she turned the subject around.  “Are you well? What is happening out there?”

Braxton
kissed her, gently and with great emotion, before putting his arm around her
shoulder and leading her towards the great hall.

“Come
and sit,” he murmured. “There is much to discuss.”

As
Braxton led Gray into the cold and dank hall, Dallas reached the top of the
ladder.  Brooke was standing there, jumping up and down with excitement, and he
swept her into his arms as one would carry a child.  She threw her arms around
his neck, joyfully strangling him, as he carried her towards the hall without a
word.  Brooke didn’t utter a sound; she simply squeezed him tightly, eyes
closed and face pressed into the side of his head. Dallas was so exhausted and
emotional that, for a moment, he didn’t trust himself to speak.  He could see
that Braxton was taking Gray into the hall and he knew why; he and Brooke would
join them.

Braxton
was helping Gray sit on the bench just as Dallas approached carrying Brooke. 
He set her down opposite her mother, removing his helm and setting it on the
table as he called for water from one of the servants. One of the three who had
dined on dog meat went running to do his bidding.  Meanwhile, both Braxton and
Dallas began to remove various piece of armor, like gloves and helms that had
been on their bodies for three days.  There was great weariness to their
movements.

“What
is happening, Braxton?” Gray asked softly. “Has the fighting stopped?”

Braxton
raked his fingers through is dark blond hair, scratching his scalp with some
satisfaction. “For now,” he told her. “But it is a temporary lull. They will be
back.”

The
fear returned to Gray’s expression. “How do you know?”

Braxton
was still in battle mode, trying not to be harsh or abrupt with her. “Because
they have not left the area,” he told her. “They have simply pulled back to
regroup and, I suspect, await reinforcements.”

Gray’s
eyes widened. “Reinforcements?” she repeated. “From where? Who has attacked
Erith?”

“Gloucester,”
he told her the obvious. “When they sent the bodies of my men back, the entire
army had come as escort, only they were hiding to the trees and I did see them.
Stupid in hindsight; I should have suspected something like that.  In any case,
they could not breach Erith’s inner wall and they have retreated to try again
another day.”

Gray
was stunned, frightened. She didn’t dare look at Brooke.  All she knew was that
her entire life was at stake and especially her daughter’s. It made her
terrified and angry at the same time, her mind brittle from lack of food and
sleep.  She abruptly stood, pacing over to the cold hearth where a servant was
laying out peat and wood. As the man attempted to start a fire, Gray came to a
halt, her gaze moving over the great hall of Erith, the only home she had ever
known.

“What
doom has been brought upon us?” she whispered rhetorically. “Are we to now know
a greater measure of horror than we have ever experienced?”

Braxton
could hear the desolation in her voice and moved to comfort her.  “I would not
worry so,” he told her quietly. “Gloucester sent a few hundred men, thinking
they could easily raze Erith. But they had no idea that we had reinforced and
rebuilt so much of her, which is why I suspect they are waiting for
reinforcements. It was not an easy task as they originally thought.  That gift
of time will allow us to prepare a reception for them when they come again.”

She
looked at him. “I do not understand your words,” she said. “What do you mean?”

Braxton’s
blue-green eyes twinkled. “Now that I know they are returning, I can formulate
a plan of resistance and counter attack. Erith will not be an easy target, I
assure you, but I am greatly concerned that you and Brooke will be within the
walls when Gloucester returns.”

Gray
cocked her head as if having no idea what he was getting at. “This is our home.
We will stay here.”

He
went to her, putting his hands on her arms. “Sweetheart, listen to me,” he said
softly. “I want to remove you and Brooke and send you somewhere safe. I do not
want you here when Gloucester returns.”

Gray
stared at him. Then she pulled from his grasp, her amber eyes blazing. “I am
not leaving my home and neither is my daughter,” she was angry, exhausted and
unbalanced. “I am not leaving.”

Braxton
was exhausted, too. He struggled to maintain his calm with her, having been in
battle mode for days.  His usual patience was slipping.

“Please,
sweet,” he was laboring not to come across as hard and commanding with her. “If
you remain at Erith, my focus will be divided and I must maintain all of my
focus on the battle.  Your distraction could prove deadly if my mind is not
where it should be.”

She
gazed at him, looking horrified and accusing at the same time.  “Are you saying
it would be my fault if you were killed because I do not want to leave my
home?”

Braxton
pushed himself to calm before things got out of hand, reaching out to grasp her
again and put his arms around her. “I am simply saying that removing you from
Erith would relieve my mind considerably,” he kissed her pale cheek, noticing
that Edgar was back with a sack full of food. He pulled Gray to sit once more.
“Sit down before you fall down. Come have something to eat and we shall
continue this conversation when we are both feeling better.”

Shaking,
pale, Gray allowed him to sit her back down at the table as Edgar rushed up and
began to pull food out of the sack; he put three big loaves of bread on the
table plus two chunks of white cheese, three small apples, several handfuls of
walnuts, and a bundle of dried jerky that was tied off with dried grass.  As
Braxton and Dallas began dividing the food up for the women, Norman suddenly
popped up through the floor from the lower level kitchens with a hogshead
barrel of wine in his grip.   He rolled the barrel out onto the floor, leapt
off the ladder, and reclaimed the barrel as he made his way over to the table. 
Servants and two soldiers were following him with cups and other morsels of
food.

Braxton’s
first order of refreshment was the wine.  He poured, and drank, two big cups
before pouring himself a third and slowing down his intake.  He sat next to
Gray, his focus on the open entry door and the commotion going on down in the
bailey as he slowly swallowed his third cup of wine.  He was thinking on the
siege engines his men were quickly constructing, wondering if they would do the
damage to de Clare’s incoming army as he hoped, when he glanced over at Gray
and noticed how the woman was wolfing down her bread.  Her starving actions
brought waves of remorse, of guilt and sadness, and he reached up a big hand
and put it gently on the back of her head, affectionately, as if to silently
apologize what she had been through.  

He
glanced over his shoulder, looking across the table to Brooke and Dallas; his
knight was perched on the table next to his wife, cutting off only the best
pieces of jerky for her.   Brooke gobbled them up like a little bird, fairly
starving herself.  His gaze met with Dallas’ and the younger knight wriggled
his eyebrows as if to acknowledge what horrors the women must have endured
closed up in the keep while the men were down in the ward fighting off de
Clare’s army.  It frustrated Braxton all the more; he only wanted to spoil and
pamper his wife and daughter, not force them into hardship.  He found himself
cursing Constance yet again for bringing all of this upon them; even though she
was no longer present at Erith, she was still wreaking havoc.  Like ripples on
the water, the repercussions kept coming and coming.

But
Braxton was still determined to emerge the victor, no matter what the old woman
had started.  He began to rethink his strategy of forcing Gray away from Erith.
Perhaps if he put it to her another way….

“Sweetheart,”
he leaned over, kissing her on the temple. “Can I make a suggestion?”

Gray
was chewing on an apple. “What is that?”

He
watched her cut pieces of apple with a small knife. “Well,” his free hand began
to stroke her shoulder; he wanted to come across gentle and persuasive, which
seemed to be the best way to deal with her. “I know of a wonderful place in
Lancaster where you and Brooke could go for a time until this madness is over. 
It is an inn built on the foundations of an old Roman bathhouse and they have
the most marvelous amenities. “

Gray
was looking at him curiously but across the table, Brooke had heard him also. 
She perked up. “Amenities? What does that mean?” she asked.

Braxton
was smart enough to capitalize on Brooke’s interest; he thought that if perhaps
he got the young woman interested, then Gray would surely follow.

“It
means services and features,” he told her. “First of all, every bed chamber is
luxurious with silks and furs, and the food is the best in the city.  They
serve things like baked fish with raisins and onions, and sweets made from
pears and honey.  They also have women whose only job is to bathe you, massage
you, dress you, and tend to your every need.  If you want them to scratch your
back all day, they will do it without complaint.”

By
this time, Brooke’s eyes were alive with delight. “Truly?” she sighed.

“Truly.”

“Have
you been to this place?”

He
nodded. “I was there once for a meal,” he said. “I met a baron there who… well,
suffice it to say that we supped together and the food and accommodations were
remarkable.”

Brooke
shoved a piece of cheese into her mouth, chewing as she hung on his every word.
“What did you have to eat?”

He
thought a moment. “I had beef soaked in wine with peppercorns and pine nuts,
and apricots with mint and honey, and other delights,” he cast a glance at Gray
to make sure she was listening. “But the accommodations were surely the best in
the world. I slept on a bed of silk, bathed in an enormous bath with painted
tiles, and was surrounded by a half dozen servants. I never had to lift a
finger for any want or need; they ensured every wish was fulfilled.”

Brooke
swallowed the food in her mouth, obviously entranced by his description.  She
looked at Dallas.  “Have you been there also?”