Even though warm, Rose shivered and dared not breathe as she sank deeper into the pile of woven rugs. Outside Azzah’s tent, the priory’s knights had just arrived, searching for a murderer.
Dear God. First the death of my dear Mother Abbess, then Cecilia, and now this. Have I sinned so much against ye, Lord, that ye despise me so?
Oh, but Rose already knew the reason for the Almighty’s wrath. She was supposed to have taken her vows at fourteen but Mother had insisted she wait. For years, Rose had worked fiercely to prove herself worthy. She’d excelled in the healing arts, prayed for hours, learned many languages, and had made herself more deserving than any other.
Pride? Well, that’s a sin she still struggled with.
It wasn’t until right before Mother Abbess died that Rose finally understood why she was singled out as an unworthy bride of Christ.
Kneeling beside the abbess’s death cot, Rose had let the last of the tallow candles burn low. It mattered not, for death was near.
“Come closer, Mary Rose.” The old woman’s voice was unusually weak.
Was not Mother Abbess the one who told Rose what to do, where to go, and how to conduct a good life?
What will I do when she’s gone?
“Prithee, don’t talk.” Rose put a cold, wet linen on the woman’s wrinkled brow and pulled off her wimple.
Spikey gray hairs sprouted about her head, making for an odd halo. “Stop weeping, girl and listen. I’ve not much time and much to tell.”
Mary Rose nodded and wiped her eyes while a knurled index finger pointed at the wall. “See that reddish brick behind my nightstand? Pull on it hard and it will come loose. Grab the package behind.”
Dropping onto her knees, Rose held her breath as she dug into the wall with her knife and a block came loose. Then, she reached deep inside the hole, praying no insects lived within. When her fingers clamped around a soft wax package, she drew it out and handed it to her abbess who pushed it back.
“’Tis yours. Open it, lass.”
Within the box, wrapped in parchment and twine was a leather satchel. She carefully opened it and pulled out a magnificent, gold brooch. The metal had turned somewhat green but was of very fine quality.
“I don’t understand.” She rubbed the large ruby until it shined.
“’Tis your heritage, girl. It was pinned to yer blanket when I found ye in the baby hatch, outside the church.”
“But it can’t be mine.” Fingering the sharp edges of the gold pin, she tried to read what was etched on the back. There seemed to be a coat of arms but she couldn’t be sure.
Mother Abbess coughed so hard that when she pulled away her linen, it was stained with blood. Soon, Rose would be all alone in the world.
“Get on with ye, lass. No tears. I’ve led a good life and ye have been God’s gift to me in my declining years. Mayhap that’s why I did not tell ye of yer heritage sooner and for that, I will be needin’ yer forgiveness.”
Rose hugged her tightly. “It matters not. Whoever left me in that basket was not my mother. Only ye can claim that right.”
“Pull out the missive.”
Inside the bag was a hollowed-out twig used by carrier pigeons. Carefully, Rose removed the parchment and flattened it out. The ink was so gray, it could barely be read but she gave it a try.
“To the Mother Abbess of Lanercost. I beg of you. Take my child, Rose, and raise her something… something within your walls. My husband murdered my first-born and I’m certain he’ll do the same to Rose. When she reaches maturity, let her know she is nobility but to never…”
The rest was completely smudged and Rose stared at the letter, her mind racing.
“What did the rest say, Mother Abbess?”
Dim eyes stared out of a vacant face as death drew even closer.
Christ in heaven, give me strength.
“Who was my father? My mother?” Rose gently grabbed cold hands and without warning, Mother Abbess smiled. The wrinkles beside her eyes grew deep as she became more coherent and yet her voice childlike and secretive.
“Now, ye see why I hid ye? Decide wisely. Will ye take yer vows or join the outside world?”
Rose rolled up the parchment, put it back in the twig, and stuck it in her purse along with the brooch. The only life she’d known was inside these walls and she had no understanding of what went on beyond.
How can I leave?
The sudden sound of metal sliding against leather brought Rose back to her present danger. Bracing for the steel’s cold, sharp edge, she prayed for a quick death. No doubt, from the sounds of their steps, The Destroyer and another knight stood right outside her tent.
“Go back and tell the bishop you couldn’t find her.” The foreign leader spoke with so much authority, how would anyone dare argue?
A man grunted, blade returned to sheath, and several sets of spurs clanged away.
Not until all turned quiet, did Rose dare open the tent flap and peek into the training field dotted with multi-colored tents.
A woman quickly grabbed Rose’s forearm and escorted her back inside. “Have you lost your wits? Stay out of sight.”
One by one, other females of the caravan entered the round tent made of rugs. Some eyed Rose suspiciously but when they heard how she healed little Val, they relaxed and made her feel welcome. Some spoke Latin, some English, and some, the strange foreign tongue made by the dark man, Aliyar.
“Prithee, stay with us? We have no midwife.” The young girl who tugged on her shift could not be more than fourteen and yet within the next moon, would give birth.
Rose hugged her full form, “I cannae put ye in any more danger than I already have.”
“But we have no healer and you would be perfect.”
Rose turned to Azzah and said in English. “What happened to yer midwife?”
Tears formed in the woman’s deep brown eyes. “We had to leave her in Normandy. Too kind, she dealt with the lepers and became one herself. You remind me of her. She was my sister.”
“I’m so sorry.” How many times had Rose seen that happen with her own order? It was only by the grace of God that Rose had not suffered from the same affliction.
Azzah blinked tears away and gave a weak smile. “Now it’s just me, my other sister Simone, and my nephew, Val. If you’d not saved him, I don’t know what I would’ve done.”
Others bowed with one hand to their breasts and murmured, “Inshallah, as God wills.”
Rose smiled and shared a quick sign of the cross. “Where is little Val?”
Simone spoke and Azzah translated. “He stays with the men. Soon he’ll be a… How do you say it? A knight?”
Outside the tent, spurs jingled. All the women in the tent jumped and Azzah peeked out.
With eyes wide, she rushed back, and dragged Rose to the stack of rugs. “Allah! The Destroyer comes. Everyone, look calm.”
They were all sitting by the cooking fire, chatting happily in that foreign tongue when the leader’s booming voice sounded outside the tent.
“Permission to enter?”
“Enter, m’lord.” Azzah sounded as if nothing was amiss.
Even though Rose’s knees quivered and her heart raced, she couldn’t help but make a tiny peep-hole in the linens to view the handsome leader. His brown hair touched the top of the tent, making everything miniature in comparison. Tan cheeks and chin were covered in a short beard and his trim mustache hid his upper lips.
Rose prayed that the little light given off by the lamps would keep her hidden in the shadows as his piercing eyes studied the tent’s interior.
Then, his gaze rested on Simone and he spoke in English. “How’s my little warrior?”
Azzah answered, translating slowly. “Thanks to the stranger, he is healed. Who is she, m’lord?”
“That’s why I’m here. To tell you to beware. Those in the priory claim she’s a murderess.”
Gasping, the pregnant girl flicked a glance toward the pile of fabric that Rose hid under.
Dear God, I’m undone.
“Azzah. Do you know where she is?” When the Destroyer squatted, she cast eyes down to the carpet.
“No m’lord. I’ve not seen her since we set up our tents.”
He cleared his throat, mouth turned down and waited in the silence.
Will I be burned at the stake, hanged or mayhap a merciful brother will take a sharp sword to my neck.
If so, Rose would explain everything at the gates of heaven. Surely, being falsely accused of murder would hold some worth when bartering for one’s eternal salvation.
While she prayed, The Destroyer stood so close, that the scent of his body made her nose twitch and her heart, already beating too fast began a cadence of a different sort.
She wanted to jump out from between the rugs, and beg to be allowed in his tent so as never to be parted from him again.
What a silly, wretched sinner, I am.
Slowly he stood, walked to the tent’s flap and turned, “I know your heart, Azzah. You wouldn’t allow a sparrow to suffer a broken wing. Heed me well. These people in the borderlands are not like us. There’s an evil in the very wind that blows across the meadows. I won’t be able to save the girl if she’s found amongst us. Keep her well-hidden until I say it’s safe. Understood?”
“Yes, m’lord. And thank you.”
He grunted and slowly glared at each woman until each lowered their eyes with red faces. “Never lie to me again.”
Apparently satisfied, he tore open the tent’s flap and ducked under.
After he left, the women sat quietly for some time until Azzah stood and walked over to Rose’s pile of rugs and asked, “Did you hear what he said?”
“Does that mean I can stay?”
“Only until we’re gone from this wretched place. Then you must go to our lord and apologize. Come out now and eat.”
An ancient woman with clear blue eyes sat stirring a pot in the middle of the tent. Strings of beads hung from her headdress, covering her forehead.
When she spoke, Azzah translated, “She asks if you really killed someone.”
Rose nodded and swallowed the juice set in front of her while a vision of this morning came into her mind. Her stomach lurched, her chest constricted, and the sadness was overwhelming.
“I saw my friend murdered.”
Sobbing, Rose put her face in her palms. “I loved her so. She was my dearest friend, my only friend and that horrible, evil abbess killed her. She tried to kill me too, that’s why I had to bash her head in.”
The ancient one pulled Rose onto her lap and Azzah smiled. “She says to not be afraid. You’re one of us, now. We’ll let no harm come to you.”
“Thank ye. Mayhap I can repay yer kindness by helping yer mothers to bring strong bairns into the world.” Rose placed her hands on the bulging belly of the pregnant girl.
“I’d happily bear babies to The Destroyer.” A lovely woman with round, rosy cheeks giggled.
One with a darker face and a bright red scarf rolled her eyes. “A man that size? Surely not. He’d break you in half on your wedding night.”
Rose’s face heated and Azzah jumped in with a big grin. “Ladies, hush. Such talk may be uncomfortable to our guest.”
Ten sets of eyes rested upon Rose and she tried to explain. “Because I’m a healer, I know much about the body but verra little about a man’s size.”
“Are you really married to God?” Azzah grabbed a piece of flat bread, broke a piece, and handed it to Rose.
A sigh escaped as that old wound reopened. “No. I’m what they call a lay-sister, a servant to those who serve Christ.”
“Why didn’t you marry Him? It’s a great honor, is it not?”
Rose reached into her purse, fingered her brooch, and was momentarily overwhelmed at the loss of everything familiar. “The former abbess would not allow it. She said I was destined for more.”
Azzah patted Rose’s hand and said something in their language to the rest. At that, they all dragged out rugs and pillows and soon the tent was transformed for sleeping.
The night was cool as Rose slid deep under the heavy wools and yet despite exhaustion, sleep would not come. Every time she closed her eyes, a vision of The Destroyer came to mind.
She’d birthed many babies, attended to the infirmed, and knew what a male appendage looked like. And, she’d have to be blind not to understand coupling from the acts of sheep and hounds, and the like. But how did that equate to the man who rescued her? Would his appendage really break her in two?
Surely, the women jested.
Her body stirred with a strange longing as she tried not to squirm and wake the others. Finally, she turned onto her stomach, pressed a fist into the place of wanting, and slept.
~~~
Close to the women’s tent, yet out of hearing, Hugh sat with Ali, gazing at the priory wall. “We should take our leave of this place in the morn.”
Wind nickered, tethered to a straw target and Ali nodded, leaning up on his elbows. “Agreed. Something was very wrong with that old abbess. No doubt, as a child, she tortured small creatures. I can’t imagine what she might do left in charge of innocent women.”
“Neither can I. That’s why I didn’t say anything when I saw how Azzah hid the lay-sister in their tent.”
“Azzah is way too soft-hearted.” An odd sort of smile passed over Ali’s face and Hugh shook his head. His friend was smitten and too stubborn to do anything about it. As soon as they had a solid keep to call home, Hugh would insist on a wedding.
Aliyar stretched and leaned back on his saddle-pillow, then gave a sly smirk. “So, tell me about this healer, is she fair?”
Hugh raised his brows. “You saw her. Why ask?”
“My eyes were unavailable for anything other than attending wounds. Besides, I need to know why you seem so besotted.”
“God’s blood, I’m no such thing but she is lovely. Her kin must be from north of the wall for her skin is light. Tiny freckles travel over the bridge of her nose and across the tops of her cheeks. She has fierce blue eyes like the summer sky, thick red lashes, and the lush lips of an innocent. Why do you suppose she didn’t come to me with her troubles?
Ali laughed. “You can be a mite overwhelming to the fairer sex.”
“Truly? I’m always agreeable. Women are just… women.”
“Indeed.”
“Regardless, I fear for her safety and all the sisters within Lanercost. Edward was wrong when he steered us there.”
“As much as I’d like to blame him, he couldn’t foresee the death of the first abbess, nor the evil temperament of the second.”
“Aye. You probably have the truth of it. Tomorrow, we leave at dawn. Separate the men into three groups. Send Doğan ahead to check the road. We’ll not be caught off-guard again.”
Ali leaned back, staring at the stars. “Sleep, my friend. I’ll take first watch. Tomorrow may be the biggest battle yet, talking to this earl, DeBruce.”
Hugh studied the sky, the position of the stars so different from where he’d been living for years. “I still believe Edward had some plot in mind that we’ve yet to discover. I’m quite sure he has no intention of paying the debt he owes us.”
“Now that he’s a monarch, he realizes land is not so easily bestowed.”
“And now we must trust that two-faced DeBruce.”
“Don’t doubt yourself, m’lord. As you’ve stated many times, the borderland between the Scots and the English is the perfect place for a group of mercenary knights and their families. With so many men fighting in Wales, DeBruce needs fortifications. Believe me, he’ll be happy to see you.”
Hugh grunted. “It’ll depend on if he rolls out of bed to the south, the north, or the east.”