CHAPTER FOURTEEN
In truth, Avrielle had never seen her children so alive and eager for an excursion.
They were up before dawn, running about like wild animals, excited at the day to come. Avrielle had a time trying to dress them, struggling to corral the older two while the old nurse tended the infant. Even though Avrielle had only intended to bring her older children on the journey, there was some concern with an infant that would have to go all day without being fed were she to leave the child behind. There wasn’t a wet nurse to be found, at least not at this short notice, so Avrielle realized that she had to take the baby with her. As she focused on dressing her older children, she had the nurse bundle the baby up for the journey.
But she didn’t mind, to be truthful. The day had dawned clear and bright, making it a beautiful spring morning that was perfect for travel. Scott and his men were already waiting with a wagon and an escort party in the bailey of Canaan. Avrielle could see them from the window of the chamber that faced into the bailey and she immediately spied Scott as he moved around the party, pointing at things that could be improved upon or leaning on the wagon bed to test the wheels.
As the old nurse followed the children around, trying to warmly dress them against the cold spring morning, Avrielle stood at the window perhaps longer than she should have. She couldn’t seem to take her eyes from Scott as he moved around, dressed in mail and pieces of plate protection on his big arms, but his head was bare and his cropped blonde hair was glistening in the early morning light. He was quite enchanting to watch, the way he moved, and she felt rather scandalous spying on him as she was. She was a widow only these past few months and shouldn’t be thinking about another man.
But the truth was that she couldn’t help it.
She’d thought about Scott all night, dreaming of his square-jawed beauty and eyes that were hazel, almost a pale shade of green. She’d loved Nathaniel, that was true, but it was an adoration of a man who had been both a husband and a father to her in many ways. She was so very young when she had married him and Nathaniel had already been in his fiftieth year. He’d been married before, and for quite some time, to a fine woman who had never given him children.
Avrielle remembered that Nathaniel had barely waited a year after his wife died before he sought her hand, and she further remembered that he had bedded her day and night after they were married until she became with child. The man had clearly been eager to have a son and was thrilled when she became pregnant. Sophia had been born before they’d been married a year and Stephen three years later, and Nathaniel had been delighted beyond measure. He finally had the family he’d so wanted.
And Avrielle had a husband that adored her. He was of great comfort to her with his warmth and wisdom, and he was respected by all, but her heart had never raced when she gazed upon him. Her breathing remained normal, not labored as it did when she gazed upon Scott. In fact, she’d never before experienced any of the excitement with Nathaniel that she was experiencing with Scott. It was like comparing the gentle harvest moon to a wild and stormy night – there was great comfort and admiration in that harvest moon, but there was unbridled excitement and passion in that stormy night.
Scott was her stormy night.
Avrielle knew that now. A sleepless night with nothing but Scott on her mind had made her realize that the man had her attention. She worried that in her grief for Nathaniel, she’d found misplaced interest in the first man to truly give her comfort, but she really didn’t think so. What she was coming to feel for Scott was completely different than what she’d felt for Nathaniel. What she’d felt for her husband was sacred and warm. Anything she felt for Scott would never diminish it. But if it was possible to have a future with a man who had helped her so much in the wake of Nathaniel’s death… then that was something she was willing to consider.
She wondered if Scott would be willing, too.
Turning away from the window, Avrielle took particular care in finishing her dress. She found that she wanted to look beautiful so Scott would look upon her favorably. Today, she wore a soft shift of lamb’s wool and over it she wore a garment that was a mixture of two fabrics – a dark blue wool and a lighter blue silk, sewn together in panels. Since giving birth, her belly had shrunk considerably but her breasts remained full, giving her a very luscious figure. The cote fit her snuggly and over it she wore a matching cape of blue wool lined with rabbit fur. It was very warm, perhaps too warm in the spring weather, but it matched the dress and she was determined to wear it. Her long hair was combed and plaited, with the plait wrapped in a bun at the nape of her neck, secured by pins and combs with painted butterflies on them.
Dressed and pinned, she was ready to depart and she went into the children’s chamber to make sure they were ready to depart as well. Sophia wanted to wear her white fur cloak that her father had given her but Avrielle wouldn’t permit it, for it was a cloak that was easily soiled. Avrielle’s denial sent Sophia into a crying jag. Stephen, of course, wanted to bring his toy soldiers with him, but Avrielle convinced her son that leaving them behind would be best so they would not get lost. Now with two sad children on her hands, the moment was complete when the baby cried and, as was her body’s instinct these days, milk seeped from her breasts and her lovely blue cote had a big wet spot on her right breast.
Frustrated, Avrielle pulled off her cloak and had the nurse help her remove the blue cote. Handing the garment off to the woman to rub out the milk spot, she took the baby, pulled her shift aside, and put the child on the nipple so she wouldn’t leak all over herself.
So much for a trouble-free start to the morning.
*
“Where is Lady du Rennic?”
Stewart asked the question and Scott, glancing up at the windows that indicated the family chambers on the east side of the fortress, shrugged his shoulders.
“She will be here,” he said. “She said she would be ready at dawn.”
“It is past dawn, my lord.”
“I can see that.”
Dressed in full armor, ready to depart, Stewart realized he had been a bit obvious about pointing that out. “I did not mean to be mordant,” he said. “Would you like for me to see what is keeping her?”
Scott shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “I am sure she will be here shortly.”
Stewart simply nodded, stepping away to check the wagon one more time when he caught sight of someone standing in the door of the barracks. The long, single-storied, stone building held nearly two hundred men at any given time but with the advent of de Wolfe’s army, the barracks and the surrounding guard chambers, as well as the hall, were overflowing with knights and soldiers these days. But the barracks were specifically where the du Rennic knights were confined and Stewart could see Gordon standing in the doorway, observing the activity in the bailey.
As Scott went to inspect his horse, which had just been brought from the stables, Stewart continued to watch Gordon as the man looked about the bailey as if searching for something. He then came forward out of the barracks, timidly, and Stewart moved to intercept him. Since the fight in the solar, the du Rennic knights did not have permission to leave the barracks, although Gordon was permitted a small amount of leeway, and Stewart sought to remind Gordon of the fact. He put himself in front of the man when he was several feet away from the barracks.
“Huntley,” Stewart addressed him steadily. “Is there something I can help you with?”
Gordon came to a halt, eyeing the big, blonde knight. “Aye,” he said. “I was looking for de Wolfe. Are you going somewhere?”
Stewart avoided answering him. “Lord Bretherdale is occupied at the moment,” he said. “What is your request?”
Gordon didn’t like being treated like a prisoner in his own home but given the dynamics since de Wolfe’s arrival, he was resigned to the way things were. He’d had a lot of time to think these days, idle time, and he found it regrettable that men he’d fought alongside for a few years were now men he was at odds with. It didn’t matter anymore if it was simply Jeremy’s fault or collectively their fault; whatever divide that had started on the day de Wolfe and his men had arrived had only grown wider. Gordon knew Nathaniel would have been deeply troubled by it, but the way things were, it simply could not be helped.
The du Rennic knights were subdued once and for all.
“Your surgeon came to see Jeremy last night,” he said after a moment “The man did very little for my son and, this morning, Jeremy has a massive lump on the side of his face that is squeezing an eye shut. He cannot see from it. I was hoping… if you are traveling to Kendal, I was hoping that de Wolfe might seek another surgeon for Jeremy. He is not getting any better and I am beginning to worry.”
Stewart had heard as much through the rumor mill. Evidently, Jeremy was still in very bad shape after the beating Scott had given him and Stewart could see the concern on Gordon’s face. Had Gordon not been involved in this, Stewart wouldn’t have lifted a finger to help Jeremy, but because Gordon Huntley was a respectable man, Stewart took his request seriously.
“Does he eat?” he asked.
Gordon shook his head. “He is in too much pain to eat.”
“Did our surgeon do anything for him at all?”
Gordon shook his head, exasperated. “He looked at his injuries, said they would heal, and walked away. That was all he did, Stewart. My son needs help.”
Stewart knew that. He was rather surprise at the care their surgeon had given Jeremy because the man was quite competent. Scott wouldn’t have employed him otherwise. Rather than tell Scott that the surgeon had neglected his duties, however, Stewart had something else in mind. After a moment, held up his hand.
“Wait here,” he said. “I will return.”
Leaving Gordon standing in the mud, Stewart headed over to Scott, who was inspecting a loose tie on his saddle. Stewart came up beside him and reached out to steady the saddle as Scott attempted to secure it.
“Gordon has a request, my lord,” he said, his voice low. “It seems that our surgeon did nothing to aid Jeremy and the man is worse off today than ever before. According to Gordon, he has a massive lump on the side of his head that is squeezing one of his eyes closed. He has come to ask if you will send for another surgeon for the man, one who will treat him properly. I know you are not agreeable to tend Jeremy, but mayhap you should at least look at the man. There is no greater healer than you when it comes to battle wounds, so mayhap a cursory inspection will tell you if Jeremy’s injuries are, indeed, as serious as Gordon seems to think they are. He is quite worried.”
Scott finished fiddling with the saddle and looked over at Gordon, who was standing where Stewart had left him. Even from a distance, Gordon seemed uneasy, indicative of his concern for his son. After a moment, Scott grunted with displeasure.
“Jeremy Huntley is the bane of my existence,” he muttered. “If it were not for Gordon, I would not even consider your request.”
“I feel the same way, my lord. But the old man is very worried for his foolish son.”
“What did our surgeon do for him?”
“According to Gordon, the man did nothing. He simply said Jeremy would heal.”
“And do we know that is not the case?”
Stewart shook his head. “I do not know. But mayhap a second opinion is in order.”
Scott cast Stewart a long look before rolling his eyes. “God’s Bones,” he hissed. “Must I really tend the man I beat to a bloodied pulp?”
“His father is hoping so. And Lady du Rennic might be appreciative as well, since he is her brother.”
That comment had Scott looking at Stewart as if he wanted to say something rather rude to him. It was a manipulative statement on Stewart’s part and they both knew it, but they also both knew that Scott was prompted more than ever now because of it. Surely Avrielle would be grateful if Scott were to tend her injured brother, and Scott couldn’t very well turn down a chance to earn the woman’s gratitude. He made a rather threatening face at Stewart before sighing heavily.
“Very well,” he mumbled. “Let me see to the fool.”
“It would make Gordon very happy.”
“I am sure it would.”
“You are generous and benevolent, my lord.”
“Oh, shut up.”
Stewart bit off a grin as he followed Scott across the bailey to where Gordon was standing. Gordon, seeing the men approached, straightened up to face Scott. He greeted the man as pleasantly as he could considering Scott had nearly killed his son.
“My lord,” he said to Scott. “As I was telling your knight, my son has….”
Scott threw up a hand, cutting him off as he pushed past him, heading towards the barracks. “I know,” he said. “I was told. Let me see for myself what you are speaking of.”
Gordon scurried after him. “If you are traveling to Kendal today, I asked if you would send another surgeon to tend my son. Your surgeon did not seem to think anything was terribly wrong.”
Scott didn’t say anything; he simply continued walking towards the barracks. It was Stewart who spoke.
“Lord Bretherdale is one of the finest healers I have ever seen,” he said to Gordon. “He was taught by a master from a young age and, although it is not commonly known, Lord Bretherdale is more skilled than most surgeons.”
Gordon looked at Stewart with surprise. “He is a healer?”
“He safely delivered your new granddaughter.”
“That is true, but I thought it was because he was the only one available to Avrielle.”
They had reached the barracks and Scott went in ahead of them. Stewart paused long enough to face Gordon.
“Trust me, Huntley,” he said quietly. “Lord Bretherdale knows what he is doing.”
With that, Stewart continued into the darkened barracks, leaving Gordon feeling uncertain and anxious. Quickly, however, he followed, entering into that long, stone room that housed so many men. It smelled like a pigsty and the warmth from the hearth only made that smell worse. Too many dirty bodies shoved together made for a close, uncomfortable, and rank experience as soldiers fought for every single bit of space in the long, dark building.
There were still several soldiers in the barracks at this time of day as Scott pushed his way through the men, searching for Jeremy, but Gordon was quick to point out that his son was nearly directly across from the door, lying in the shadows near the hearth that was more than simply a heat source. As Scott, Stewart, and Gordon approached, Scott could see men cooking over the hearth, essentially turning the barracks into a kitchen as well. Amidst the smell of smoke and unwashed flesh, now smells of cooking meat filled the air. It was a crowded, nasty place.
Gordon scurried on ahead of him, rushing to Jeremy’s bedside as Scott and Stewart came up behind him. Scott couldn’t really see much of Jeremy’s head because the man was lying on his side, his face turned away from him, but the moment Gordon coaxed Jeremy onto his back, Scott could see what had the man so afraid.
Jeremy’s face was still very battered and very bruised from the beating Scott had given him. While Scott didn’t regret one moment of what he’d done, he had to admit that his handiwork was rather impressive. Jeremy’s left eye was swollen shut by a massive, bloodied swelling that ran all the way from the man’s jaw, up the side of his head, and disappeared beneath his hairline. As Scott stepped closer to get a better look, Jeremy could see enough to realize that de Wolfe was back and perhaps looking for more blood. He struggled to move away from him.
“What are you doing here?” Jeremy demanded through his swollen lips. “Get out of here. I am not causing you any trouble, de Wolfe.”
Scott stopped his advance. Jeremy was acting like a wounded animal, cagey and afraid. This wasn’t the arrogant knight Scott knew but, given his injuries, Jeremy’s behavior was to be expected.
“I have not come to finish the job, Huntley,” he assured him, although there was no comfort in his tone. “Your father is concerned with your condition and has sought my help. I have come to examine you.”
Injured, sick, Jeremy was nonetheless defiant. “I do not need your help,” he said, trying to roll over and move away from him. “Go away and leave me.”
“Jeremy, please,” Gordon begged softly. “Lord Bretherdale is a great healer. At least let him…”
“Nay!” Jeremy bellowed, bringing the other du Rennic knights around them to their feet. He tried to push his father away. “Leave me alone, all of you. I do not need your help!”
Gordon was beside himself, looking to Scott beseechingly, but Scott’s expression was unreadable. He didn’t leave, however. He stood there, looking at Huntley’s face, going so far as to move around the side of the bed when Jeremy tried to roll away from them. George, with a cut lip and a massively bruised left eye, tried to stand in Scott’s way only to be thrown over a bed by Stewart when he came too close. It threatened to start a brawl all over again but Scott held out his hand to Stewart, stopping the man from going any further. As the injured du Rennic knights backed away, huffing and posturing, Scott simply stood over Jeremy and visually examined his face. When he’d seen enough, he quit the barracks, motioning for Gordon and Stewart to follow.
“I have seen injuries like that before,” Scott said as they came outside. He turned to Gordon. “If that swelling does not go down, it will have to be drained. It may be pooled blood but Jeremy will not let me get close enough to tell. I am to take your daughter into town today but, while I am gone, you will follow my instructions – move Jeremy into one of the lesser-crowded guard rooms near the southern gatehouse. I will tell my men that he is to be moved there. Then, you are to make compresses out of the icy water from the brook that runs past Canaan and apply those cold compresses to Jeremy’s face throughout the day. I will have my surgeon stay with him and I will also have the man give him something for the pain, for something like that is very painful. When I return from town, I will look in on him and see if the swelling has gone down. If it has not, then you will have to hold Jeremy down while I lance the swelling. Do you understand?”
Gordon looked at him, fearfully. “Aye, my lord,” he said firmly. “Thank you for helping my son. I shall not forget it.”
Scott eyed the man a moment before shaking his head. “If your son was not an arrogant fool, I would not have had to teach him a lesson,” he said. “But I am not heartless. It seems that I have given him one of my better beatings but because of my respect for you, and only because of you, I will help him now. Do as I say, try to get him to drink some watered wine, and I will see to him this evening.”
Gordon understood. As the old man quickly headed back into the barracks, Scott turned to Stewart. “Tell Milo that Jeremy is to be moved to someplace quiet,” he said. “The man will not heal in the hellish bowels of the barracks.”
Stewart nodded sharply. “Shall I have him put under guard?”
Scott pondered that a moment. “I do not think that is entirely necessary,” he said. “These men are not our enemy, for Christ’s Sake, although I believe they have to be reminded of that. Just make sure he is watched. That is all for now.”
As Stewart headed off to relay orders to Milo, Scott caught a glimpse of blue from the corner of his eye and turned to see Avrielle emerging from the family’s wing. Dressed in a beautiful blue cote with a tightly swaddled infant in her arms, she was followed by her older children.
She could have been followed by a horde of avenging angels, but Scott wouldn’t have noticed. He had eyes only for Avrielle. With her hair attractively arranged, he’d never seen anything so magnificent and his heart began to thump against his ribs from the sheer delight of it. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears, but it was the most wonderful sound he’d ever heard. It told him that every minute, every hour, and every day he was becoming more enamored with Avrielle. It told him he was alive again. Before he could speak to her, however, Stephen ran at him.
“We are going with you!” he said excitedly. “Mam says we will see the man who gives us sweets!”
Scott was forced to tear his gaze away from Avrielle, looking down at the adorable little boy. He didn’t even pull his hand away when the child grasped it, tightly.
“That is true,” he said. “Your mother wishes to see him about some flowers.”
Stephen beamed with an open mouth full of little, white teeth. “I want sweets!”
Scott gave him a half-grin, amused by the lad’s excitement. “And you shall have them, young Stephen,” he said. Then, he looked up at the boy’s mother, now at closer range. He could have stared at the woman all day. “Good morn to you, my lady. I trust you slept well.”
Avrielle smiled at him and Scott swore his knees went weak. “I did, thank you,” she said. “And I am terribly sorry we are late. It seems that I must bring the baby because there is no wet nurse to be found and I cannot let her go hungry while we are away. I hope that is not too much trouble.”
Scott’s gaze moved to the infant, sleeping peacefully in her mother’s arms. He felt a connection to the child he’d brought into the world, a protective and prideful sort of connection. “It is no trouble,” he said. “But you should let me make a shelter on the back of the wagon so that you may ride there and be protected from the elements. I shall put the men on it immediately.”
Her gaze upon him was warm. “Thank you for being so considerate.”
Scott simply nodded, but his lips were twitching with a smile. Looking into her face made him want to smile very much. As he turned to order his men to erect an oiled cloth over the bed of the wagon, Stephen tugged on his hand.
“Can I help?” he asked eagerly.
Scott didn’t have the heart to deny him. The project would probably go a lot faster without a four-year-old boy in the middle of it, but Scott simply couldn’t deny the child. He nodded.
“You can help me tell them what to do,” he said.
Stephen was delighted. “I will give them commands!”
“Considering I have fought you in battle before, you seem to be very good at that.”
With a wink at Avrielle, Scott took Stephen with him so the boy could “help” with the oiled cloth over the rear of the wagon. It was a small thing but, to the little boy, it was not such a small thing. Nor was it to Scott; it reminded him of when his older boys were young and how much time he had taken with him. With Stephen by his side, it took him back to the days he had all but forgotten. It made him think of William and Thomas, now young men, and he wondered about them. Even if he tried to contact them again, would they be accepting? Would they tell him to go away? He hadn’t spoken to either of them in three years, boys he loved with all his heart but boys he couldn’t face, much as he couldn’t face the rest of his family. But interacting with Stephen made him realize just how much he missed them.
He was missing everything these days.
Even after the shelter was erected, and Avrielle and her children were loaded into the wagon, Scott’s thoughts lingered on the sons he hadn’t seen in so long. Odd how they were so heavy on his mind now, but perhaps not so odd. Young Stephen had unknowingly unearthed some fatherly regrets. As the party from Canaan headed out onto the road that headed south through the vale towards Kendal, Scott came to wonder if it wasn’t too late to reestablish his relationship with his sons or, at the very least, express his regrets in abandoning them. For he had, indeed, abandoned them, much as he had abandoned the rest of his family.
As the party plodded along and he saw the expanse of road stretch out before him, he came to realize that his road to regain what he’d tried to push away – his family – was going to be a long one, indeed. But thanks to a young, widowed mother and her sweet and eager son, it was a road he was possibly willing to take.