CHAPTER TWELVE
Mid-August
“Have you noticed anything different about Bric?”
The question came from Daveigh, directed at Pearce, on the cusp of a fine August day. A storm had blown through the night before, leaving the following day bright and blustery. In the outer bailey of Narborough Castle, in the area near the troop house where the men would train or stage, Bric was running some new recruits to the de Winter war machine through a series of drills.
But it wasn’t the Bric they’d known in the past.
The High Warrior that had made a name for himself was a man of great skill and talent when it came to training men, but he was also a man of little patience. He’d been known to go head-to-head with a soldier or even a knight who was too timid or too hardheaded to understand what he was being taught, and the pupil would always lose. Bric wasn’t beyond punching men in the face, or slicing them with his broadsword simply to teach them a lesson. That was simply his way, and the men would learn very quickly as a result.
But the Bric nowadays didn’t seem willing to push the men that hard. In fact, he almost seemed pleasant in his training these days, which wasn’t like Bric at all. The knights had noticed it, as had Daveigh, but no one was willing to say anything about it, hoping that Bric would regain whatever confidence he’d lost as a result of that terrible wound, but as the weeks passed and nothing seemed to change, it was Daveigh who said something to Pearce about it.
Those fateful words, what they’d all been thinking, had finally been uttered.
“Different?” Pearce turned to his liege as they both stood on the edge of the training area watching Bric and the newer recruits. “What do you mean, my lord?”
Daveigh was feeling greatly depressed by the Bric he was witnessing these days, meaning he had no patience for Pearce’s ambiguity. He eyed the man unhappily.
“You know exactly what I mean,” he said quietly. “Be honest, Pearce – we’ve been watching Bric with the men for the past several weeks and things are… different. I was hoping it was simply because of his brush with death, the fact that he was physically still recovering, but his entire manner is different these days. This is not the Bric MacRohan we knew before that arrow hit him in the chest.”
Pearce was fiercely loyal to Bric. He knew what Daveigh was driving at, but he wasn’t going to agree with the man.
“Give him time,” he said. “He nearly lost his life two months ago. Tasting death is going to change a man, but he will come around. It is not as if we are talking about an unseasoned weakling. We are speaking of Bric MacRohan.”
Daveigh sighed heavily, watching as Bric grabbed a sword out of a soldier’s hand, pushed the man back, and then swung the sword in a controlled fashion as he explained something to him. Two months ago, Bric probably would have drawn his own sword against a man who was having trouble learning a technique and engage him in swordplay that would have eventually drawn blood. As he watched Bric explain something rather than demonstrate it, he shook his head.
“I know,” Daveigh muttered. “Mayhap you are correct; mayhap he simply needs time. I suppose almost losing his life is bound to shake him up, because Bric has never faced such a thing. He has never even come close. But this… it looks as if he is nursemaiding the men rather than being the master he needs to be.”
Pearce wasn’t going to agree with him, even if it was true. “If it is bothering you so much, have you spoken with him?”
Daveigh shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “Truthfully, I am simply glad to have him back. If his dance with death has changed him somewhat, I suppose it is a small price to pay. But this is not the man I have known all of these years. I am not sure I like it.”
Pearce watched Bric as he handed the sword back over to the soldier so the man could try what he’d been shown.
“It is still Bric,” he said quietly. “I simply think you should give him time. He will come around.”
Daveigh looked at him. “And what if he does not?” he asked. “What if we are summoned by another ally and Bric must lead the army? Will he lead with the same fearless bloodlust we are used to, or will he shepherd the men like a dog herding sheep, fearful they are going to be injured?”
Pearce looked at him. “I have every faith in Bric MacRohan, my lord,” he said. “I have heard of injuries changing men and their outlook. Bric has much to consider these days, mostly a wife he adores. He has much to live for and it was something he nearly lost two months ago. Everything changed for him, all at once, so I do not believe we should judge him so harshly right now. Give him time to become accustomed to everything that has happened to him and I am sure we will see the old Bric make a return.”
Daveigh knew that what Pearce said was very true; much had changed for Bric in a short amount of time. Drawing in a deep breath, he exhaled thoughtfully.
“I suppose I simply miss the man who called everyone a pisswit,” he said. “Bric’s insults were the only fun we ever have around here. Why does he not insult men anymore? I miss that.”
Pearce grinned. “I am sure that will come again, with time.”
Daveigh eyed the young knight. “You are wiser than you look, de Dere.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
With a smirk, Daveigh wandered away, heading off to the stables to see to a new horse he’d purchased recently and leaving Pearce to watch Bric instruct men with a kindness unlike him. In truth, Pearce missed the old Bric, too.
As Pearce pondered the situation, Eiselle had just exited the keep with Zara. Over the past few weeks, the women had become friends. As Keeva had once told Eiselle, Zara was a little dim-witted, and liked to drink excessively, but she was quite humorous and Eiselle found her to be honest, sometimes brutally so. Bric had told her the story about Pearce and how the man believed Zara had tricked him into marrying her, but Eiselle didn’t believe it. Zara didn’t seem manipulative, certainly not like Angela was.
Angela, in fact, had increasingly isolated herself against the other woman, hiding out with her naughty son, but she would make an appearance at the evening meal on occasion, complaining or trying to guilt her husband into doing something she wanted him to do. It didn’t matter what it was – dancing, a new pony for their son, or any number of things she felt were important. She would whine, Mylo would mostly ignore her, and eventually she would leave the meal in tears. Edward no longer made an appearance at any of the meals where the adults were present, but Angela would take him outside daily so the child could run about and get into trouble.
Even now, Eiselle and Zara could see Angela and Edward in the inner bailey as Edward chased the waterfowl that were basking in the sun on the banks of the moat. Ducks were flying in all directions as Edward ran through them, kicking at them. Eiselle and Zara watched from a distance.
“I do not suppose he could fall into the moat, could he?” Eiselle muttered.
Zara couldn’t hold back the laughter. “I have often hoped for that myself,” she said. “Somehow, Angela always seems to grab him before he can fall in.”
“Pity.”
The two chuckled as they made their way to the small gatehouse that opened up into the outer bailey beyond.
“Edward was a cute babe,” Zara said. “In fairness to Angela, she had a difficult pregnancy with him. Weetley made her stay in her bed for months on end, so when Eddie was born, one would have thought Angela was the only woman in the world to have ever given birth to a child. Lady de Winter requested that I attend the birth and I swear I never want to have children after watching Angela go through her dramatics. It was harrowing.”
Eiselle grinned. “I understand that childbirth can be very painful.”
Zara nodded. “That is true, but I would expect that some women bear the pain with some dignity. She had no dignity at all.”
Eiselle chuckled. “I shall remind you of that should I ever attend a birth of your child.”
Zara rolled her eyes. “If I behave as Angela did, slap me.”
“I shall remind you of that, too.”
It was Zara’s turn to chuckle. But quickly, her smile faded. “I pray that someday you will have the opportunity,” she said. “I wish I knew what God had planned for me. I know that Pearce would like a son. I was pregnant when we married, you know, but I lost the child shortly thereafter. Pearce has never believed that, but it is true. He thinks that I tricked him into marriage.”
The subject of the mysterious pregnancy came to light, quite unexpectedly. Eiselle pretended that she’d heard nothing about it. “Why would he believe such a thing?” she asked. “Surely you would not lie about something like that.”
Zara lifted her shoulders. “Nay, I would not,” she said. “But he did not want to marry me. Pearce did not want to marry anyone; he simply wanted to love women and leave them. I lived in King’s Lynn with my parents when we met; my father is a tanner and Pearce purchased boots from him. He was quite taken with me, as I was with him, and I will admit that I allowed him to take… liberties. But I could not help it; I loved him so. When I became pregnant, I told him and he did not believe it was his child. He refused to marry me but I told him I would tell my father if he did not, so he did. Still, he has not let it stop him from seducing other women. He thinks I do not know that, but I do.”
Eiselle was looking at Zara quite seriously. “Oh… Zara,” she breathed. “I am so sorry to hear that. I do not understand how he could do such a thing to you.”
Zara shrugged. “It is my fault,” she said. “I wanted the man to marry me. I did not care that I was trying to curb his nature in order to do it. He likes women and does not see his marriage to me as an obstacle to that.”
Eiselle frowned. “Well, I do not like it. Does Bric know?”
“They all know.”
Eiselle was quite unhappy by the sad tale. “Then I cannot imagine he approves of it. What a terrible thing for Pearce to do.”
Zara put her hand on Eiselle’s arm. “Please, do not tell Bric that I told you,” she said. “I do not want him to know because it might get back to Pearce, and I do not want my husband to know that it bothers me. That would make me ashamed.”
“What do you mean?”
Zara glanced up, seeing the training field off to their right, where her husband was standing on the fringes, watching Bric train some newer recruits.
“It is that dignity I spoke of,” she said quietly. “Angela had none in childbirth, and she continues to have none. For me, it is different – dignity is all that I have. As long as Pearce does not know his behavior bothers me, then I retain my dignity. But the moment he knows I am distressed by his behavior, it is as if I lose any semblance of pride. I lose my dignity. Therefore, I have to pretend his behavior does not bother me because only then can I live with it. I do not know if that makes any sense, but it is the way I feel.”
She was right – it didn’t make much sense to Eiselle, but she didn’t argue with her friend. “I cannot pretend to know how you feel,” she said. “All I know is that if Bric did such things to me, I could not stand it. It would destroy me.”
Zara looked at her. “That is because you love him,” she said. “Everyone knows that. We can all see it. And Bric loves you; he would never do anything to hurt you. It is different with Pearce and me – there is much love lost between us. I wish I could fix it, but I cannot.”
“Then you do not love him any longer?”
“I do. I always will. But everything that fed that love is gone until my feelings are but fragile shells of what once were. They are hollow. But that does not mean they are gone.”
Eiselle simply patted her on the arm, unsure what to say to her. Zara’s relationship with Pearce was complicated, at best. But Zara was right about one thing – Eiselle loved Bric. Mo chroí, he called her. My heart. It was the sweetest thing she could imagine, and even thinking of her husband made her heart flutter and her spirit soar. She felt as if she were walking on clouds, every moment of every day. This had been her life for the past several weeks and it was as if she couldn’t remember her life before Bric. Now, all she cared about, or looked forward to, was her husband.
He had become her entire life.
They were nearing the training field now and they could see the men crowded up around it. These were new recruits, from what Bric had said, men that had been gleaned from the surrounding countryside, farmers and laborers who were looking for something better in life.
De Winter had a great reputation for being fair, and schooling men, and Bric was a huge part of that reputation. She knew that he trained the men because he spoke of them every night when he was finished with his duties. Sometimes they would sit with Pearce and Mylo and Daveigh, eating their evening meal and speaking of the new recruits, but sometimes she and Bric would sit off on their own and talk quietly. Sometimes they would even take their meal in their chamber so they could be alone, and those meals always ended up with making love in their cozy bed.
It was those meals that Eiselle liked best.
Life at Narborough went on after the battle at Holdingham, with Bric returning to duty and Eiselle finding her own place at the castle. Usually, she stayed to the keep and went about her duties for Keeva, which mostly consisted of sewing or overseeing the servants in their duties, as Eiselle had a kind but firm hand when it came to dealing with the servants. But today, Eiselle had come to see her husband because she had been repairing some clothing for the man and needed to have him try them on so she could finish them.
It was true that she could wait until he was finished for the day, but he was usually so exhausted that she didn’t want to bother him with such things. Moreover, she didn’t usually see him during the day and today, she was missing him just a little. Even just a glimpse of the man or a few words from him would mean the world to her.
So, she wandered out into the outer bailey and, even now, stood well away from the group of men who were in training. Zara stood with her for a few moments, but Pearce was also watching Bric and her gaze lingered on her husband before she muttered an excuse and headed off. When Eiselle last saw her, she was heading in the direction of the kitchens. She thought it rather sad that Zara didn’t feel the excitement for her husband that Eiselle felt for hers, but given the state of their marriage, Eiselle didn’t blame her. But she also refused to let the woman bring down her mood, in any fashion, so she remained in place as she watched Bric demonstrate a few hand-to-hand combat skills.
Even just a few weeks ago, no one knew if Bric would be capable of continuing his duties at Narborough as he had. No one knew what the future would hold but, these days, the future was bright and beautiful as far as Eiselle was concerned.
Bric was back, as strong as he ever was, and she loved watching him work with the men. It made her heart swell with pride. She was so fixated on Bric that she hardly noticed Mylo as he walked in front of her, heading towards the troop house. He said something to her but she didn’t respond, so he stopped and said it again. Only then did Eiselle realize he was speaking to her and she grinned, embarrassed that he’d caught her daydreaming.
“I am sorry,” she said. “I did not hear you, Mylo.”
Mylo smiled. “I know,” he said. “Bric often has that same look when it comes to you.”
Eiselle thought that was a sweet observation. “And he does not hear you, either?”
“Sometimes, he does not. I am coming to think it does no good to speak to either of you these days.
Eiselle giggled. “Again, my apologies,” she said. “I did hear your voice, but not your words. If you greeted me, then I shall say good morn to you, but if you did not greet me, then give me a moment to pretend I know what you said. I will figure something out.”
It was Mylo’s turn to laugh. “Not to worry, Lady MacRohan,” he said. “I know that you are watching Bric and that is exactly where your attention should be. I simply wished you a good day.”
Eiselle dipped her head politely, smiling at the man as he walked away. She liked Mylo; he was easy-going, and very humorous when the mood struck him, and she honestly couldn’t see a man like that married to a woman like Angela, but she’d never asked why he married her. As she pondered Mylo being married to a very odd woman, a voice suddenly caught her off guard.
“Greetings, Lady MacRohan.”
She yelped, startled that Bric had snuck up beside her while she hadn’t been paying attention. As soon as she saw who it was, she giggled uncontrollably.
“You startled me,” she gasped, hand on her chest as if to still her frazzled heart. “I did not see you approach.”
Bric stood next to her, his eyes twinkling. “I know,” he said. “You were too busy looking at Mylo, whom I shall now have to kill because he has your attention.”
Eiselle wrapped her hands around his big forearm in an affectionate gesture. “He does not have my attention,” she said. “If you must know, I was wondering how a nice man like Mylo is married to a woman like Angela. That marriage puzzles me.”
Bric’s gaze flicked over to Mylo, who was still walking away. “There is no great mystery,” he said. “It was arranged. And Angela seemed like a nice enough lass when she first came to Narborough. It was after she gave birth to that brat that her manner changed.”
Eiselle nodded in understanding. But she didn’t want to talk about Mylo and Angela. She was far more interested in her husband and her grip on him tightened as she smiled up at him.
In public for all to see, this was the most affection they would display. No hugging, no kissing, because as Bric explained it once, that was something only for the two of them to experience. He didn’t want to share his happiness with everyone at Narborough. But Eiselle couldn’t keep her hands off him, making it very difficult for Bric not to reciprocate.
“Then I feel sorry for Mylo,” she said. “But I do not wish to speak of him. I would like to speak of you; has your day been pleasant so far?”
He smiled down at her. God, it was so incredibly easy to swallow her up in his arms and kiss her until she swooned, and he found himself fighting off the urge. His arms fairly ached to hold her.
“It has been uneventful,” he said. “Some of the new recruits are as stupid as tree stumps, so progress has been slow. With all of the men who were put out of commission at Holdingham, we desperately need healthy men to fill their positions, so it is going to take some work to make these men battle-ready.”
Eiselle’s smile faded. “And you?” she asked quietly. “Do you feel battle-ready?”
He lifted his big shoulders, averting his gaze. “I am always battle-ready,” he said. “I was born with a sword in my hand. That has not changed.”
Eiselle hoped that was the truth. She, too, had heard the whispers around Narborough, that MacRohan didn’t seem himself after his devastating injury, and some men were even saying that the fearless knight was no longer fearless. But she had never repeated what she’d heard to Bric because she honestly didn’t believe it. The High Warrior had not lost his fearlessness; she would stake her life on it. But not having been around Bric very much before his injury, she didn’t really know the man and his manner prior to that event, so all she could go on was his reputation and what she saw these days.
What she saw was a man who went about his duties, a man who was, and ever would be, de Winter’s greatest knight.
She believed in him.
“I simply meant that you have had some pain in your torso when you swing a sword,” she reminded him. “Does it still pain you?”
He seemed resolute. “The pain will fade. It will not stop me from doing as I must.”
“Do you fear that de Winter will be called to fight again?” she asked. “I heard the servants saying that the French rebels have been moving south, to London. They say that is where Prince Louis is now, waiting for a fleet of ships from France. Is this true?”
Bric looked at her a moment without reacting. Then, he smiled weakly. “There are many rumors flying about, Lady MacRohan. I would not take what the servants say too seriously. The weak minded have vivid imaginations.”
“Then it is not true?”
“I did not say that. I simply said there are many such rumors flying about, but nothing has yet been confirmed. Until it is, you should not worry about it. When the time comes, I will tell you the truth about things.”
Eiselle sensed that he simply didn’t want to speak on the subject, so she didn’t press him. Instead, she shifted the focus to the reason why she’d come.
“As you say, Husband,” she said. “I apologize if I sounded foolish with my questions.”
“You did not.”
“Then that would be a first,” she teased. “My father used to say that everything out of my mouth was foolishness.”
Bric couldn’t help it; he reached up to gently stroke her cheek. “Not everything,” he said quietly. “When you tell me you love me, that is not foolish.”
Her cheeks flushed sweetly. “Nay, it is not.”
“Tell me again.”
“That I love you? You know that I do.”
“I know. But I want to hear it every day.”
“Then I shall tell you every day if you tell me that you love me, too.”
His eyes glimmered warmly at her. “I love you,” he whispered.
“And I love you. I love you madly.”
They were words that fortified his heart in ways he could have never imagined. He never knew that three little words could make him feel such joy, such contentment. He very much wanted to kiss her, but his natural restraint railed against it. But he knew that if he stood here with her much longer, he wouldn’t be able to resist the urge, so it was best to remove himself from temptation.
“Now that I have heard the words that will carry me through my day, I am content,” he said. “But if there isn’t something else you wish to discuss with me, I must return to the men. Still, it has been a welcome respite to see you.”
Eiselle was touched. Bric wasn’t the great flatterer other than to tell her of his love for her, but the compliments he did pay her were simple and sweet. She adored that about him. The past several weeks had been a learning experience for them both, and they were improving in their communication.
The man who never wanted to be married had learned a valuable lesson when the arrow almost ended his life – he learned that life was worth living, in all circumstances, but most especially with the right woman by his side. And Eiselle was learning about a life she could have never imagined, something romantic and sweet that she’d heard of but never believed she would experience.
For both of them, the unexpected and, in one case, unwanted marriage had become the most important thing in the world.
“Do you think I just came here to gaze adoringly at you, then?” she jested. “I really did come here for a reason and it was not to distract you from your duties. It was to ask you if you have time to try on the clothing I am repairing for you. I believe I have it right, but it would help if you would try the pieces on so that I can make any necessary adjustments.”
He glanced at the group of men about twenty feet away. “I do not have the time at the moment,” he said. “But, mayhap, in an hour or so. Will that be acceptable?”
She nodded. “It will.”
He winked at her. “Thank you, mo chroí.”
Eiselle simply smiled as he turned once again and headed back to the training area where the men were practicing with wooden swords they had fashioned. Pearce had entered the activities and he broke off a group of men and took them over to the south side of the field for instruction in archery. There were targets set up on piles of hay for the men to practice on. But Eiselle paid little attention to Pearce as she turned back for the keep; her attention was on Bric until the very last moment. She wanted him to be her last memory before she turned her attention to something else.
Bric saw when his wife had headed back towards the keep, her dark hair blowing in the breeze. Even though he was reclaiming his broadsword to continue his instruction to the men, his thoughts were lingering on her. Such a lovely, sweet creature who was turning into a woman that was quite eager in his bed. She seemed to crave sexual contact as much as he did, and she needed absolutely no prompting to respond to his will. Even thinking about that made his loins feel warm, so he quickly diverted his attention. It would do no good to feel a need for his wife when he still had work to do.
But knowing what was waiting for him this night made him want to complete his work just a little faster.
With that thought on his mind, he bellowed orders to his recruits, demanding they give him their attention, and they did. He had an eager audience of both young and old men, and he resumed the lesson where he’d left off. He was teaching the men defensive tactics which, in the past, he’d taught them by physically demonstrating – and in some cases, violently – what happens when an enemy tries to kill them and how to counteract their attacks.
But today, Bric was being a little less violent about it and a little more explanatory. In truth, what Eiselle said was correct – his torso still pained him to swing a sword, and sometimes he felt he was tearing up all of the healing he’d done, which had forced him to be somewhat cautious when engaging in physical activity.
At least, that’s what he told himself. The truth that he kept buried was that he didn’t want to reinjure himself. For the first time in his life, he was concerned about his physical state.
It was an unusual concern, indeed.
But it was something he tried to push through, alien feelings that he’d never experienced before. As the men gathered around him once again, he pulled one young man out of the crowd and spoke to the men about the proper way of using a sword for defense rather than offense. He had the recruit properly positioned as he explained what needed to happen in the heat of battle, while over in the crowd of men who were learning how to properly hold a bow, Pearce had given one of the recruits an arrow to see if the man could properly handle it. Unfortunately, the recruit accidentally let the arrow fly and it sailed into the air, landing about two feet from Bric as he was instructing his men.
Bric didn’t remember running into the keep after that.
All he remembered was something unfamiliar – the powerful sense of panic.