CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
‡
Et pro Gloria dei
Gaetan had no idea what he was drinking, but whatever it was had a punch to it. Seated on the hard-packed earth floor of the convening hall around a table that was hardly taller than his knees, he leaned over in Téo’s direction.
“This drink is rather potent,” he muttered.
Téo, who was feeling the buzz himself, nodded. “Potent like an ax to the face,” he said, peering in the wooden cup he’d been drinking from. “What is in this stuff?”
Gaetan didn’t have a clue. All he knew was that two cups of it had made his head swim, and that usually didn’t happen to him because he had a strong tolerance for drink. Wellesbourne was on the other side of him and he leaned in Bartholomew’s direction.
“What is this drink?” he asked the man quietly. “You purport to know these lands. Is this some mad Mercian concoction we’ve been ingesting?”
Wellesbourne shrugged, but his head, too, was swimming. “It certainly seems to be.”
“Two cups of this drink and already my head is rolling like the ocean waves.”
“It is a cursed drink.”
Next to Wellesbourne, de Lara heard the conversation. He, too, wasn’t feeling so well, making it difficult when he tried to shake his head at Wellesbourne’s comment. “Everything is cursed to you, Bartholomew,” he muttered. “You see more omens than an old witching woman. Why is that?”
Wellesbourne eyed de Lara. “Because everything is cursed. How have you survived this long without knowing that?”
De Lara just laughed and took another drink from his cup, but Gaetan had stopped when he realized that the stuff was going to put him to sleep. He’d requested watered wine, or something else without such a kick to it, and a servant had brought him a bowl of juice from apples and blackberries. It was very sweet, but it was better than becoming drunk on cursed Mercian beer.
All nine knights were at the table along with Antillius and several of the elders of the village. There were even a few of Antillius’ men, who seemed rather intimidated by their visitors though not unfriendly. There were one or two that still tried to strike up a conversation with them. Jathan was missing, however, because he had gone to sit with Ghislaine, taking the watch from Aramis because Gaetan didn’t want the man anywhere near her until he’d had a chance to explain that Ghislaine was no longer an unpledged woman. Now, she belonged to him.
She was all he could think about.
Aramis hadn’t been happy with Gaetan in the least for sending Jathan in his stead to sit with the lady while they partook of the evening meal, but he didn’t argue. He simply did as he was told. But even now, he was sitting across from Gaetan, his dark and murky eyes glaring at him from across the table.
De Russe was an intimidating man when he wanted to be and it was clear that he was trying to convey his displeasure with Gaetan at the moment, but Gaetan wasn’t intimidated in the least. He was, however, growing irritated, something that was magnified by that damnable drink. Therefore, Gaetan tried not to look at Aramis because he was certain if he did, the next step would see him flying over the table and wringing his friend’s neck.
But he was distracted from the man when the food was brought forth, and it was quite a feast – both boiled and roast pork, pies with pork and carrots and local birds, fish in wine, and other delicacies. For people who lived such an isolated and simple life deep in the woods, it was a great display of both hospitality and prosperity, and the knights wolfed down the food before their hosts were even served. They hadn’t eaten since the meal at The King’s Head the night before, so they were quite eager to put food into their bellies.
Gaetan found a good deal of satisfaction with the roast pork, which had a wine sauce on it that was marvelous. There was far less conversation now that mouths were full, but Gaetan couldn’t help but notice that the same women who had pledged to tend Ghislaine were also the women who were serving the knights. He wouldn’t have noticed except Antillius, at the end of the table, grabbed one of them and swatted her on the behind, clearly unhappy that she was serving.
The young woman fled in tears but her two sisters were moving up and down the table, making sure the men had what they needed. Gaetan had to admit that the Tertium were very good hosts but he was inherently curious about them.
“Have you discovered anything about this place?” he asked Téo quietly.
Téo was well into his pork and bird pie. “Only that they are the descendants of an ancient Roman legion that settled here,” he said. “Antillius is quite forthcoming about his tribe’s history.”
“You have spoken with him?”
Téo nodded. “When you went with the physician to tend Lady Ghislaine, the rest of us spoke with him somewhat.”
Gaetan thought it might be best if he spoke with Antillius now, as the commander of the group, rather than get his information second hand. Swallowing the bite in his mouth, he leaned forward so he could address Antillius directly.
“You have my gratitude for your kindness towards my men and towards the lady, my lord,” he said. “I apologize that I have not had much time to speak with you, but the lady’s health was my primary concern when we arrived.”
Antillius was eating but he wasn’t drinking the same alcohol the knights had been served. Gaetan noticed that when a serving woman poured the same apple drink into his cup that Gaetan had requested. All things considered, it put Gaetan on edge a bit as he considered that their host may very well be trying to get them drunk. Either that, or there wasn’t enough drink to go around so he was giving it all to his guests. Still, Gaetan was glad he stopped drinking so at least one of them would have a clear head.
“There is no need to apologize,” Antillius said, cutting in to his suspicious thoughts. “The lady is doing better, I have heard.”
Gaetan nodded. “The wound was not as bad as it looked, fortunately,” he said. “Your physician was able to stitch it up and now the lady rests comfortably.”
“I am glad.”
Gaetan took a drink of the apple concoction. “I must also apologize for not introducing me and my men,” he said. “It seems rather late for proprieties, but permit me to give introductions – I am Gaetan de Wolfe of the House of Vargr, the kings of Breton. The men you have seated around your table are de Russe of Flanders, de Reyne of Morlaix, de Moray from Rouen, de Winter of the House of Bourbon, de Lara, the Count of Boucau, St. Hèver of Normandy, du Reims of Reims, and Wellesbourne of Wales. As I told you, our comrade was abducted and we are heading north to retrieve him.”
Antillius was looking around his table, rather shocked at the introductions. He was a man who soaked up information when he could get it so he knew that he had at least three men from ruling or royal families at his table, de Wolfe included. In truth, he was quite impressed.
“I am honored, my lords,” he finally said. “I fear I have set a simple table for such great men.”
Gaetan shook his head. “You have been a gracious host and we are grateful for what you have provided us.”
Antillius banged on the table and more food suddenly appeared, filling up the tabletop with a great deal of excess. “It is my honor,” he said. “And the lady – The Beautiful Maid of Mercia – although her brother is my enemy, I do not look upon her as my enemy. She is my honored guest. If you are allies of Black Edwin, I do not hold that against you.”
Gaetan glanced at the men across the table; de Russe, de Moray, and St. Hèver were looking to him to see how he would respond. Gaetan thought it best to be honest with Antillius to a certain extent. He saw no harm in it.
“We are not allies of Edwin of Mercia,” he said. “In fact, it is his brother Alary who has abducted our comrade.”
Antillius sobered at the mention of Alary’s name. “Ah,” he finally said, nodding his head in a knowing fashion. “Alary Insanus.”
Alary the Insane. Gaetan snorted softly. “That is fitting,” he said. “You know of him, then?”
Antillius nodded, but his expression was far from pleasant. “Aye,” he replied, seemed hesitant, but continued. “We have had contact with him and his men on occasion. I have heard of him burning down entire villages to punish women who rejected his advances or tormenting men he wanted something from. Last year, two of our young girls wandered away and we never found them again. Saxon allies we trade with told us that it was rumored that Alary had found the girls and sold them off to the highest bidder. We tried to find the girls, but to no avail. It was as if they had vanished.”
It was a disheartening tale but, given Alary’s scope of evil, not surprising. “I am sorry to hear that,” Gaetan said. “Has he ever tried to come to your village? It is not terribly far from his seat of Tenebris.”
Antillius shook his head. “He has been in our lands but he had never come close to our home,” he said, “although there are other tribes about that have attacked us from time to time.”
Gaetan listened with interest, mostly for his own education on the tribes in the area. “Warring tribes?”
Antillius nodded. “Mostly,” he said. “Or, they want our women. We keep a very close watch on our women. There is one tribe that tries quite frequently to steal our woman; we call them the Homines Ossium. No one really knows their true name, but they wear the bones of their dead ancestors in great necklaces because they believe the bones of the dead will bless them with the strength of the man the bones once served. Some of the necklaces are quite heavy and elaborate.”
Gaetan wasn’t sure he liked the sound of savages wearing bones. “Where do they live?”
Antillius pointed off to the east. “On the other side of the great river is a valley. They have dug holes into the sides of the hills and they live inside of them. They live like animals and they fight like animals as well. We tell our children frightening tales of the Men of Bones so that the little ones do not wander away from the village.”
Gaetan wriggled his eyebrows in agreement. “It sounds as if those tales are more truth than fable,” he said. “Someone told me these lands are called the shadowlands, where the land itself is cursed. Mayhap that is not far from the truth in some cases.”
Antillius shook his head. “It is not, I assure you,” he said. “Now, you have asked me many questions, King of the Bretons. I would like to ask you some questions as well.”
Gaetan grinned. “My ancestors were the kings of Breton,” he corrected. “The last time I checked, that was not my title.”
“But you have one.”
Gaetan nodded. “Marquis Aulerci. That is the hereditary title of the heirs of Mateudoi, the last King of the Bretons.”
Antillius was clearly impressed. “You must command a great many men.”
“I command enough.”
“I would believe that. Which is why I would like to know why you are only traveling with nine warriors. Should you not bring more men if you are to extract your comrade from Alary’s clutches?”
They were heading into an area where Gaetan wanted to be particularly careful. He didn’t want to speak on how Kristoph was abducted or how they, and an entire Norman army, had come to the shores of England.
“I have two thousand men with me but Alary discovered that we were coming for our comrade and threatened his life,” he said. “I left my men back in a town called Westerham. I believe my knights and I can rescue our friend. We are skilled and resourceful.”
Antillius cocked his head in a dubious gesture. “I admire your bravery, my friend, but surely Alary carries more than nine men with him,” he said. “Tenebris is a dark and mysterious place to the north. I do not know how many men he has there, but there will be more than just a few.”
“Any Norman knight in battle is worth twenty Saxons.”
“And you are confident as well.”
“You’ve not see us fight.”
Antillius grinned. Then, he laughed, looking around the table to the men who were stuffing themselves on the pork and pies. “You are as big as mountains, all of you,” he said. “It would be a terrifying thing to meet you in battle. I pray that I never will.”
Gaetan gave him a half-grin. “You almost did today when you ambushed us with your arrows.”
Antillius waved him off. “I fear we would have lost too many men in that fight,” he said. “We may have had the advantage, but in the end, I would have had to sacrifice a few. Our numbers are not so great that we can afford to lose men.”
“Why is that?”
Antillius’ good humor faded. “Our numbers are less and less every year,” he replied. “Our people have been here for hundreds of years, de Wolfe, and we do not marry allii unless it is absolutely necessary. That means we marry within our tribe and, over the years, we are less and less. There are fewer babies born every year. I fear that someday we will die out completely unless we find new and worthy men to marry our women.”
That comment caused every Norman but Gaetan to look straight at his food and pretend to be occupied with it, for no one wanted to get roped into a marital commitment with a father looking for worthy men for his daughters. Gaetan saw the heads go down and he laughed to himself.
“Not to worry,” he told Antillius. “I am sure you will find worthy husbands for your women, in time. It would be an honor for any man to become part of your tribe, as you are excellent fighters. I could see that earlier today even though a sword was not drawn nor a weapon thrown. It is clear your men are great warriors themselves. In fact, I shall deem all of them honorary Normans. It will be a bond between your men and mine so that, in the future, we shall remember that bond and hold to it.”
Antillius was greatly flattered. “We do not have allies,” he said. “We have always kept to ourselves. We are quite honored by your declaration.”
Gaetan held up a cup to the man as if to toast him. “And I will christen you and your family the House of de Shera, as you must have a Norman name now. Shericus is the ancient name of old, a name of great honor. De Shera is a name for a house that will evolve into greatness.”
Antillius grinned, looking at his men and seeing expressions of approval. As he turned to some of the men around him to discuss the Norman honor, Gaetan turned to Téo.
“God’s Bones, did I just say that?” he muttered. “Did I just completely change that man’s entire world and tell him that his name was not good enough in this new Norman realm?”
Téo was indulging in a compote of berries with honey and cream; it was most delicious. “You took an ancient Roman line and made it Norman,” he said. “That is what our kind does, Gate. That is the Norman way of thinking. We take the world and change it for the better.”
Gaetan pondered that, toying with his drink cup in one hand and stroking his chin with the other. But in the course of that deliberation, he noticed that de Russe was once again looking at him from across the table. His good mood fled.
“Téo,” he mumbled, his eyes never leaving de Russe. “I must tell you something.”
“What?”
“I have claimed Lady Ghislaine.”
Téo’s head came up and he looked at him curiously. “Claimed her? What do you mean?”
“Bodily.”
That became clear in an instant and Téo’s eyebrows lifted with some shock, but also with realization. Frankly, he wasn’t surprised. He knew Gaetan’s appetites when it came to women so it wasn’t a surprise in the least. But in the same thought, he knew it was about to become quite complicated given Aramis’ feelings for the woman.
Deadly, even.
“I see,” he said. He set his knife down; he suddenly didn’t feel like eating anymore. “Forgive me, but mayhap it was not wise to do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because surely you have known that Aramis is….”
Gaetan cut him off. “Of course I know,” he said. “He is sitting across the table from me, shooting daggers from his eyes as he stares me down. He and I discussed this delicate situation back in Worcester and he was most amiable then, but that has changed. He told me that he would step back and allow me to pursue the lady but his actions have said otherwise.”
Téo sighed heavily. “Gate, you have been my friend for many years so forgive me for what I am about to say, but you did not need another conquest, and certainly not a conquest in the sister of Edwin of Mercia,” he said quietly. “If there was one woman you should have kept your hands from, it should have been Ghislaine of Mercia.”
“I plan to marry the woman.”
Now, surprise was registering across Téo’s face. “Marriage?” he hissed. “What madness is this?”
Gaetan tore his eyes away from Aramis and looked at Téo. “No madness, I assure you,” he said. “I do not know how it happened, but somehow I have fallen in love with the woman. I have asked her to be my wife and she has agreed. Instead of judging me for it, I should think you would be happy for me.”
Téo had to make a conscious effort to close his mouth. He simply couldn’t believe what he was hearing and his first reaction was that it was all a whim on Gaetan’s part; Gaetan was not the marrying kind. Moreover, the man had bedslaves and everybody knew it. What would Ghislaine think about whores in her husband’s house? But Téo wouldn’t think to disagree with his friend in that fashion, so he kept his thoughts to himself. He knew that the right woman could change a man; perhaps that was the case.
But it was a damned surprise to him.
“I am happy for you,” he finally said. “’Tis a shock, that’s all. I never thought I would hear those words from your mouth.”
Gaetan nodded as if in complete understanding. “Nor did I.”
Téo shook his head, chuckling as if he still couldn’t believe it, and raised his cup to Gaetan. “May you know great happiness, Gate. And your mother will be thrilled.”
Gaetan smiled faintly. “Aye, Lady Dacia will be consumed with joy.”
“Now to tell Aramis.”
Gaetan’s smile fled and he looked across the table to see that Aramis was still staring at him. He set his cup down.
“There is no time like the present,” he said. “I cannot have the man competing with me for a woman who will be my wife. I would have to kill him.”
Téo’s blood ran cold, mostly because he knew Gaetan was not speaking figuratively. He was speaking literally. He simply nodded as Gaetan stood up and went around the end of the table, heading straight for Aramis and motioning the man to follow him outside. Aramis didn’t hesitate. He was on his feet and close behind Gaetan as the two of them quit the convening hall.
But Téo wasn’t happy about that. He wasn’t entirely sure the private discussion wouldn’t come to blows and, if that happened, the men would have to be pulled a part. He knew both men well enough to know that neither one would stop until the other one was dead, so that meant it would literally be a battle to the death. With Kristoph’s life on the line, they couldn’t be distracted with a situation like this. They had a mission to accomplish and time was growing short. He turned to de Winter, seated on his right.
“Get Wellesbourne and St. Hèver,” he muttered. “I will get the others. Gaetan has gone outside to address Aramis on a very touchy subject and if punches are thrown, then we must be there to stop anything from escalating.”
De Winter glanced at him over the rim of his cup. “You mean Lady Ghislaine?”
They all knew about it. It was possibly the worst kept secret, ever. Téo simply nodded and that was enough for de Winter. He set his cup down and did as he was asked while Téo explain the situation to de Moray, de Lara, and de Reyne.
Very quickly, the seven warriors were rising from the table and heading out of the rear of the convening hall as Antillius and his men watched them with confusion. They had no idea where they could all be going, all at once, and although Antillius thought it rather odd, he didn’t follow them. He assumed they’d return.
Little could he have guessed what was really going on.
“Aramis, we must clear the air between us. Something has happened since we last spoke at Worcester about Lady Ghislaine and it is troubling me.”
In the darkness, Gaetan and Aramis faced off against one another. The village was dotted with fires this night, including one that was just outside the convening hall, creating enough light to see by. Gaetan could see Aramis’ hostile expression flickering in the firelight.
“Nothing has changed,” Aramis said steadily. “I told you that I would not press my suit with the lady until you did it first.”
Gaetan sighed heavily. “Aye, you told me that, but look at you,” he said, growing agitated. “You have been glaring at me all night and I swear if you had a sword on your person right now, you’d chase me down with it. This is not how you and I have conducted our friendship, Aramis. What has changed that you should look as if you hate me so?”
Aramis’ manner was stiff; it wasn’t easy for the man to talk about his feelings. That made him vastly uncomfortable. But Gaetan had a point. Perhaps, it wasn’t fair not to let him in on what he was thinking.
On how much he was feeling.
“I do not hate you,” he said, averting his eyes for the first time. “But I will admit… I am feeling quite inferior in this quest for Lady Ghislaine. You have everything, Gate – bloodlines, land, money, reputation. I am not so bad, you know. I have amassed a reputation for myself and my father is the Count of Roeselare. My bloodlines are older than yours, dating back centuries. When my father dies, I will have the titles and wealth that you have.”
“I know that.”
“And I was not born a bastard as you were.”
Gaetan shrugged. “That does not matter. None of that matters.”
Aramis took a deep breath, fighting for calm. “Mayhap it does not,” he said, “but every time I come around Lady Ghislaine, you chase me off as if I suffer a great plague. You are purposely keeping her away from me.”
Gaetan nodded. “Of course I am,” he said, feeling his dander rise. “Why would I not? You have given me permission to speak to her first and I cannot do that if you are always around, always trying to turn her attention away from me. Would you not do the same if the situation was reversed, Aramis? And be honest.”
Aramis opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it. He was vastly frustrated. “I suppose I would do what I had to do in order to keep her for myself.”
“Then why do you fault me for it?”
“Because even if she rejects your suit, she will not know me well enough to accept mine,” he said heatedly. “Am I not to be given a chance in this, Gate? Or are you doing all you can to eliminate the competition?”
“Wouldn’t you?”
The question hung in the air between them and Aramis, at his limits of frustration, simply turned away. “Mayhap I would,” he said. “But if I knew you were going to push me out of any contact with her, I might not have agreed to back away while you pursued her.”
Gaetan could see the man’s annoyance but he had no pity for him. This was a competition and Gaetan had done everything in his power to ensure he emerged the winner. He’d already won, in fact, but Aramis didn’t know that.
It was time he did.
“It is over, Aramis,” he said softly. “It is over and I have won.”
Aramis’ agitated pacing came to a halt. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that she has consented to be my wife.”
Aramis didn’t say anything for a moment as he attempted to digest the statement. “You have asked her?”
“I have.”
Like most driven men, Aramis hated to lose. He had the same competitive instinct in him that Gaetan and the others had. That was why they got along so well with one another. The understood each other. Because of that, it was extremely difficult for him to concede defeat because he’d built up this idea in his mind of Ghislaine and of a future with her, to the point where it blurred with the reality of the situation. He simply couldn’t surrender.
“You never intended to give me a fair chance,” he finally said. “All of that talk in Worcester about being fearful that you were not worthy of her was just talk. You were trying to make me feel pity for you and, fool that I am, I was honorable in a situation where you were not.”
Gaetan didn’t like having his honor questioned and most especially not by a friend. His manner stiffened. “How was I not honorable?” he fired back. “You told me I should ask the lady if she felt something for me, or have you conveniently forgotten what you said? I am not going to speak with the lady on personal matters with you hanging over her shoulder every second of the day, Aramis. I am allowed to have time alone with her.”
“But what about me?”
“There is no ‘you’ in this equation. There is only Ghislaine and me, and I will marry the woman. So, if you do not gracefully accept this situation, you will be very sorry. Is this in any way unclear?”
The situation between them was becoming quite strained. It was no longer two friends having a discussion, but two men competing for the same women. In matters of that nature, only the strong would survive and Aramis wasn’t about to surrender in a case where he felt he’d been wronged.
Slowly, he approached Gaetan until he was mere inches from the man; he had the height advantage by an inch or two, but Gaetan had the power advantage. He had the strength of ten men and the skill behind his sword to back it up. As the two men gazed at one another, staring down in a deadly game, Aramis was the first to blink.
“A lady can always change her mind, you know.”
Gaetan’s fist came up faster than Aramis could duck. The blow caught him in the chin and he went reeling backwards. It stunned him but didn’t knock him off his feet. As he charged Gaetan to retaliate, the host of knights suddenly emerged from the shadows, throwing themselves in between the battling titans.
Téo, de Lara, and St. Hèver had Gaetan while Wellesbourne, de Winter, and de Moray had hold of Aramis. De Reyne stood in between the two factions, trying to keep a distance between them.
“Nay, Gate,” Téo hissed. “Not over a woman. You will not destroy what you and Aramis have over a woman. Do you hear me?”
Gaetan was beyond rage at the moment. Had his men not stopped the fight, he was quite sure he would have killed Aramis. He, too, couldn’t believe it had come to this but, in the case of his heart and Ghislaine, he was willing to do anything to keep her, even destroy an old and dear friend. In fact, nothing else mattered at the moment. But he was prevented from responding when distant screams began to fill the air.
Back in the village, people were screaming and running; the knights could see them in the darkness. There was panic going on and that was enough to divert the men from their anger and set their warrior instincts on edge. No one could quite see what was happening and they began to gravitate in that direction, just a little, to see what the issue was when suddenly, a woman sprinted towards them carrying an infant against her chest.
“Homines Ossium!” she screamed. “They have come!”
Gaetan recognized the name of the tribe in an instant. They had only been speaking of them a few minutes earlier. The Men of Bones tribe had decided tonight was the night for another raid and all he could think about was Ghislaine, in that little cottage with only a silly dog and a priest for protection. In that instant, the warrior in him took over and he made a break for the convening hall where his possessions were. Behind him, the knights were running right along with him. They were nearly to the door when Antillius and his men emerged, great concern on their faces.
“What is happening?” Antillius demanded.
“Your Men of Bones have chosen this night for a raid,” Gaetan said as he burst past him, into the hall and to the corner where all of their possessions were stored. “What is your usual procedure for a raid, de Shera?”
Antillius didn’t even realize Gaetan had addressed him by his new Norman name. “We must herd the women here, to this hall,” he said. “That is the only way to protect them.”
Gaetan shoved his helm on his head, as did the others around him, all of them grabbing broadswords and any other weapons they could get their hands on. There was a tremendous sense of urgency in the air.
“What about the raiders?” he demanded. “Will they kill the men or are they only interested in the women?”
Antillius could only think of his daughters who, he hoped, were still in the kitchen next to the hall. “They only want the women,” he said. “But they will kill the men to get to them. This is our fight, Norman. You do not have to….”
Gaetan and his men were already bursting out of the hall, running for the village that was caught up in a maelstrom of panic. As Antillius armed his men and began shouting orders, Gaetan turned to his knights.
“I am going for Lady Ghislaine,” he said. “Aramis, you come with me. The rest of you find all of the women you can and bring them back to the convening hall. And if one of those raiders gets in your way… you know what to do. Do not let them get the women.”
The knights nodded, securing helms and gloves. Though this raid was unexpected, they were always prepared for battle. It was what they were born to do. Téo clapped Gaetan on the shoulder as he headed into the village.
“Et pro Gloria dei,” he said.
Gaetan responded to him. “Et pro Gloria dei,” he said, turning to the others behind him who were preparing to charge off. “For God and Glory.”
His men responded, most of them touching each other’s arms or hands, which was usual with them. It was a physical touch to confirm the bond of warriors, of the words they spoke. They never went into battle without doing that. As Gaetan finished securing his helm, he turned to Aramis, standing next to him.
He didn’t see the man he had been ready to kill seconds earlier. He only saw his brother.
“Et pro Gloria dei,” he murmured.
Aramis nodded, taking a balled fist and knocking it against the hilt of Gaetan’s sword and, in that gesture, Gaetan knew that everything would be well between them. There was no doubt. Brothers-in-arms superseded everything else.
Together, they raced off into the darkened village, off to save the woman they both loved.
Ghislaine was enjoying the best sleep she’d had in weeks. Years, even. Tucked up, nice and cozy, in the little alcove bed, she was deliciously snug and warm with Camulos laying up against her, providing his doggy warmth. As she slept, it was with her arm over the once-despised dog.
Her experience with Lygia, Verity, and Atia had been a pleasant one. More pleasant than she had expected. The young women had made a very hot bath in a copper tub from the water that had been steaming over the hearth and they’d stripped her of her dirty, torn clothing and put her on a stool right in the middle of the tub. Ghislaine sat stock-still as they poured the hot water over her, making sure to be very careful with her bandaged leg, before proceeding to scrub every inch of her skin.
Ghislaine wasn’t used to being treated to a bath. In fact, her baths were usually quick events, certainly not something that anyone helped her with, so to have three young women make such a ritual out of it had been very odd for her, indeed.
Sitting upon the stool, Ghislaine submitted to their scrubbing with horsehair brushes and soap that smelled of violets. Her hair was washed with flat ale and scrubbed with a bit of the soap as well. She felt she was being buffeted by powerful winds as she was subjected to the brisk scrubbing and rinsing, drying and oiling, until she was sure several layers of skin had been removed. But the truth was that it felt wonderful and, for the first time in her life, she enjoyed her sweet-smelling bath.
Perhaps there was something to this bathing ritual, after all.
After drying and brushing and braiding her damp hair, she was put into a long soft tunic with a round neck and long sleeves. Atop the tunic, the women put yet another tunic on, this one shorter so that the longer tunic beneath showed through. The bottom tunic was white while the tunic on the top was a pretty blue shade. It was even embroidered around the neck in white thread. The top tunic also had laces on the side to make it fit the wearer, so two of the women made sure the tunic fit her shapely body before piling yet one more tunic on top of her, which was more like a cloak with a soft fur lining. Ghislaine was thrilled with it. Little doe-skin slippers were placed on her feet simply to keep them warm.
Brushed, washed, combed, braided, and finally dressed, Ghislaine was helped to the bed and tucked in by the three women who then excused themselves to allow her to sleep. Ghislaine was very grateful to them.
Odd how such a simple thing as bathing made Ghislaine feel happy and content. She might even come to like such a thing. Perhaps after she and Gaetan were married, he might allow her a servant or two to help her bathe like that every single week. Maybe even every day. Her world had always been one of warfare and politics, but in that gentle hour, it took three strange women to show her what a woman was supposed to be like. She could only imagine what Gaetan would think, seeing her cleaned up for the first time and not looking like a forest urchin.
He might even like it, too.
It was to thoughts of dear Gaetan that she fell into a heavy sleep, hardly even stirring when the dog jumped onto the bed and lay down beside her. But her sleep became dreamless and heavy, until the sounds of screams began to reach into her subconscious. Even then, she didn’t awaken until Camulos, alerted by the sounds, jumped off the bed and sat by the door, whining. Soon enough, someone was shaking her awake.
“My lady?” It was Jathan. “My lady, awaken!”
Ghislaine forced her eyes open but it was difficult. She could see Gaetan’s priest hanging over the bed. He’d been outside the door, guarding it, but now he was inside. She was about to ask him what the matter was when another scream, this one nearby, had her sitting bolt-up right. She looked at Jathan with wide eyes.
“What is happening?” she demanded.
Jathan shook his head. “I do not know, my lady,” he said, “but I am going to come inside and bolt the door. We should remain here for safety.”
Ghislaine quickly nodded and Jathan pulled the heavy oaken door shut, throwing a heavy wooden bolt. The hut didn’t have any windows but slits up around the top of the walls where they met the stone roof to allow for light and the ventilation of the smoke from the cooking fire. There really wasn’t any way for them to know what was going on but the advantage was that it also kept them very safe, like a prison cell.
The sounds of screaming were becoming more frantic outside. They could also hear what sounded like roaring or growling of some kind. There were men speaking in a language Ghislaine couldn’t quite make out. She looked at Jathan with a good deal of apprehension, hearing the sounds of a struggle going on outside.
Then there were sounds of splashing and men laughing. Ghislaine swung her legs over the side of the bed, laboring with her sore right thigh.
“I wish I had my dagger,” she hissed. “I do not have a weapon at all!”
Jathan put his finger up to his lips to silence her as he reached into the belt around his waist and handed her a fairly large dagger. It was heavy and sharp, and Ghislaine felt much better with it in her hand. But she remained silent as they listened to the screaming going on outside. It was terrifying.
Suddenly, there was a great pounding at the door. Ghislaine jumped but Jathan remained calm. He had his sword leveled, prepared to defend the lady with his life, but then the pounding came again and someone was shouting his name.
“Jathan! Open this door!”
It was Gaetan. Jathan threw the bolt on the door and it burst open, nearly knocking him down. Gaetan and Aramis were in the doorway and Gaetan grabbed Ghislaine without a word, picking her up and thrusting her at Aramis, who literally dropped his sword in order to catch her. Ghislaine’s dagger fell to the floor but Gaetan ignored it; he picked up the fallen sword and handed it to her instead. His expression was serious but calm.
“There are raiders in camp,” he told her quickly. “They have come for the women and we must get you to safety. Can you use this sword?”
Ghislaine looked at Aramis’ big broadsword, now in her hand. “Aye, I can.”
Gaetan nodded swiftly. “That’s a good little mouse,” he said, a hint of affection in his tone. But he turned serious again in a flash. “Aramis will be your legs but you must be his sword. I will be your shield. Come now; follow me.”
Together, the four of them plus the dog left the hut, out into the chaotic night where people were still screaming and running as phantoms chased them through the shadows. As they neared the end of the row of cottages that fronted the pond, a big man wearing bones all around his neck and chest jumped out and bellowed, lifting a massive club with spiked ends. Gaetan kicked the man in the gut and when he doubled over, he sliced his head clean from his body. As the head went rolling, the group continued running.
Ghislaine had to admit that she was terrified. She’d been in plenty of battles, that was true, but she’d been able-bodied and able to protect herself and fight. Now, she couldn’t walk or run, and she was at a distinct disadvantage. She watched Gaetan deftly kill two more men who had charged at them and even Jathan managed to badly wound a man who had tried to club him in the head.
As they neared the kitchens that serviced the convening hall, they saw Antillius and two of his men fighting against at least four men wearing bones around their necks. One of the men had Lygia by the arm, yanking at her, as her father tried to hold on to her. Ghislaine pointed to them in a panic.
“Gaetan!” she gasped. “That is Lygia! You must help her!”
Before Gaetan could move, Aramis put Ghislaine on her feet and took his sword from her. “Nay,” he said. “Gate, you take your lady to safety. I will handle these fools.”
Gaetan didn’t argue with him. He picked Ghislaine up again and, with Jathan running in front of them to protect their path, carried Ghislaine all the way to the convening hall where he had to beat on the door before someone opened it. Once inside the door, he set Ghislaine on her feet as Jathan and the excited dog came in after him.
“You and Jathan will guard the door,” Gaetan told Ghislaine, handing her a dagger from his waist. “If anyone comes through that door that is not an ally, kill them.”
Ghislaine nodded firmly. “I will, I swear it. I will not let anyone pass that is not a friend.”
Gently touching her cheek in a sweet gesture, it was all Gaetan could manage before charging back out into the night to help Aramis and Antillius. Ghislaine shut the door and bolted it, looking at Jathan to see that the entire event had the priest fairly rattled. But he held his sword tightly, preparing to kill just as Gaetan had ordered. He was, after all, a trained warrior even if those duties were something he struggled with.
Now that they had reached relative safety, there was an odd stillness to it all that was unnerving. Outside, people were fighting for their lives while inside, the frightened and injured huddled. Soft weeping drew their attention and they looked around to see that the convening hall was half-full of women and children, all of them shaken and terrified.
“I will watch the door,” Ghislaine told Jathan. “Mayhap you should pray with these women and comfort them.”
Jathan shook his head. “If Gaetan discovers I have left my post, I will be the one needing prayers.”
Ghislaine grinned at the man but she understood. “Very well,” she said. “When things settle down, mayhap your prayers would be welcome then.”
Jathan could still hear the sounds of the struggle outside. Battle, to him, never became any easier. It was all death and mayhem as far as he was concerned.
“I think I shall pray now,” he said.
“I think that is a good idea.”
He did.