CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The multitude of torches that lit up the night sky was an eerie sight. There was something uneasy about the brilliant fire that fought off the night, a night so black that it was as if looking into the face of Satan.
At least, that’s what Eiselle thought as she stood at the gatehouse leading from the inner bailey into the outer bailey, watching the army as it prepared to move out.
There was something uneasy about this entire night.
Earlier, she’d been sewing on one of Bric’s tunics in their chamber when Keeva had come to tell her about the call for help from Castle Acre, sixteen miles to the east. It belonged to the powerful Earls of Surrey, the de Warenne family, and it was a mighty and strategic castle with property that butted up against the de Winter lands. De Winter and de Warenne were close allies, so there was never any question about answering the summons.
De Winter would answer the call.
At first, Eiselle had been understandably concerned for Bric. After what had happened earlier that day, she was worried that he was heading into battle and wasn’t yet ready for such a thing. But she didn’t share that concern with Keeva, instead keeping it to herself, and following an afternoon of sewing on her husband’s tunics, she could no longer keep her focus. As night fell, she wandered out of the keep and right to the mouth of the outer bailey, watching the activity and hoping for a glimpse of her husband.
Everything seemed business as usual. She remembered how the army was methodically mustered from the first time she had witnessed it, when they were departing for Holdingham. Wagons were brought out, horses were groomed and saddled, and the quartermasters were thorough in the supplies they brought with them. Everything was moving smoothly and, in the middle of it, she could hear Bric’s voice, bellowing to the men, as Mylo and Pearce made sure the new recruits were properly outfitted for the coming battle march.
As she caught a sighting of Bric now and again as he moved in and out of the herd of men, she could also see Manducor out in the organized chaos. He seemed to be helping, too, mostly with the infantry, and Eiselle was coming to think that the man might never return to his church.
The drunk, smelly priest had transformed over the past several weeks; he didn’t drink as much, although he still ate to excess and farted when he pleased, and he spent more time with Weetley, the surgeon, helping the man with his patients, and generally finding other things to do. Whether or not he’d been invited to stay, he was finding a place for himself at Narborough.
It seemed to Eiselle that the man had reclaimed something in himself – perhaps it was self-worth, or a sense of purpose. It was difficult to know. All she knew was that Daveigh permitted him to stay as long as he made himself useful. Perhaps he simply felt more at home at Narborough than he did serving his parish. Whatever the reason, Manducor was starting to become a fixture at Narborough and Eiselle wasn’t displeased. He had a wisdom about him that she found comforting. Oddly enough, the man was coming to be something of a friend.
So, Eiselle stood and watched as the men went about their duties, feeling the chill as the night began to deepen. As she stood there and watched, she began to hear voices behind her and turned to the keep in time to see Mylo emerge from the entry with Angela in tow, carrying a wailing Edward.
“But he just wants to be with you!” Angela was saying as she virtually ran after her husband. “He wants to see the soldiers and the army. If he is to be a knight like his father, what is the harm of you taking him with you as you go about your duties?”
Mylo was beyond frustrated. He came to a halt and turned to his wife. “I have explained this to you several times, so I will do it once more and let this be the end of it,” he said. “It is too dangerous for him out there with the army and I do not have time to watch him. Moreover, it is late and he should be in bed.”
Angela frowned. “I think you are being very cruel to your son.”
Mylo had no patience for her. “He is too young, Angela. When he is older, mayhap I will take him with me, but right now, he is far too young. He would want to get down and run, and if he does that, he will be killed. Someone will run him over and it would be all your fault.”
Angela gasped, offended by his words. Although Eiselle was genuinely not trying to listen to their argument, it was difficult because they were standing so close to her. When Angela realized Eiselle was listening, she quickly turned back for the keep with the crying baby in her arms. As she ran off, Mylo resumed his walk towards the outer bailey and caught sight of Eiselle as he did so. He smiled weakly.
“She wants me to take the baby with me,” he said. “It is not safe.”
Eiselle nodded. “I agree with you,” she said. “But when he is older, then you must take him with you so that he may learn from you.”
Mylo shrugged. “I hope he will outgrow this screaming he does,” he said. “I hope I can undo the damage that his mother has done.”
Eiselle smiled. “He is young, still. I am sure he will outgrow his tantrums.”
Mylo gave her a nod that suggested it might be possible. “Mayhap,” he said. “Now, if you will excuse me, Lady MacRohan, I have duties to attend to or your husband will have my hide.”
Eiselle waved him off, watching him head out into the group of men who were now starting to form loose ranks as the knights whipped them into shape. It seemed to her that they were preparing to move out soon and the worry she felt for her husband began to increase. She’d been fighting it off all day, but now that their departure was approaching, it was coming on with a vengeance. Her nervous stomach, something she’d hardly suffered from since her arrival to Narborough, was beginning to make itself known and she could already feel the gas bubbles popping up, reminding her of her worrisome spirit.
Worried, indeed, for Bric.
But she remained at the smaller gatehouse, vigilantly watching the army and ignoring both the chill of the evening and her upset stomach. She stood there as the sun set, and the air turned damp and cold, still watching everything, still seeing Bric on occasion. She was starting to live for those glimpses, seeing flashes of the man she was so deeply in love with. It was the only thing she cared about. As she stood there, shivering in the darkness, someone came up behind her and put a heavy shawl over her shoulders.
“I thought you might need this,” Keeva said, smiling at Eiselle when the woman looked at her in surprise. “It is a cold night.”
Eiselle pulled the shawl tight. “It is,” she said. “Thank you for the wrap. I can feel the dampness in the air.”
Keeva, who was warmly dressed against the night, glanced up at the sky. “There is always dampness in the air because of our closeness to the river,” she said. “Even in the summer, we will have misty mornings over the land. I have a feeling we may see a misty morning tomorrow.”
Eiselle’s gaze was on the army. “But they will move out regardless of the mist, won’t they?”
Keeva nodded. “They will move out no matter what the weather is like.”
So much for hoping that fog would delay the army and, consequently, Bric’s departure. Eiselle tried not to appear too disappointed about it.
“I do not know how you have become accustomed to this,” she said after a moment. “Your husband leaves for battle and yet you appear so calm. I wonder if I shall ever feel so calm.”
Keeva put her hand on Eiselle’s arm. “I may appear calm, but the truth is that I am just as anxious as you are,” she said. “Daveigh is all I have. If he does not return, I do not know what I shall do or where I shall go.”
Eiselle looked at her. “I am sure that Daveigh is well-protected by the knights,” she assured her. “And Narborough is your home. If something… well, if something happened, surely you would remain here, as is your right. Why would you even think to leave?”
Keeva shrugged. “Narborough is the crown jewel in the Honor of Narborough, and with it goes the title of Baron Cressingham,” she said. “All of this would go to the next Baron Cressingham, who would be Daveigh’s younger half-brother, Grayson. He has only seen fourteen years, but he is already a fine young man. I know that Grayson would permit me to remain here if I wished it, but it is more than that. Daveigh is my heart and my soul, Eiselle. When I say he is all that I have, I mean that he is the life that beats within me. I could not lose that, much as you could not lose Bric.”
Eiselle understood the passion of her statement. “I almost did,” she said quietly. “Our life together was almost over before it began. I am concerned for him returning to battle so soon.”
Keeva could see the stress in her fine features. “I know you are worried for Bric, lass,” she said quietly. “I have heard the rumors, too. We all have. But Bric descends from the High Kings of Ireland, and he is a warrior of legend. You must not worry over him. He will come home to you.”
Eiselle wasn’t comforted by her words. Dashiell had told her the last time the army had left for battle that Bric would come home to her, and he had – as a casualty. Therefore, Keeva’s words had no real meaning to her but she didn’t say so. She simply nodded her head.
“I am coming to see that worrying for Bric serves no purpose,” she said. “I do believe it displeases him if he knows I am worried for him, so I try not to show it. But watching him ride off to battle and not feel sick to my stomach is going to take practice. The one and only time I watched him ride away was when he returned to me injured.”
Keeva squeezed her arm. “It was not usual, I assure you,” she said. “I have been watching Bric ride off to battle for many years and that was the first time he has returned injured. Have faith that it will be the only time.”
Those words bore some comfort to Eiselle, and she smiled bravely at Keeva, who put her arms around her and hugged her. The two of them had bonded quite a bit over the past several months and had become great friends. As they stood there, watching and waiting, Bric suddenly appeared.
Instead of losing himself in the men as he’d been doing all day, he was heading in their direction. Keeva had to let go of Eiselle or risk being pulled along with her when she ran out to greet him.
Eiselle had no real intention of embracing her husband as she ran to him. He was coming towards her so it seemed natural that she should go to him. But he suddenly opened his arms to her, something he’d never done before, and it seemed to Eiselle that he wanted to embrace her. Therefore, she threw herself into his arms when she came within range and he lifted her up from the ground, holding her tightly.
“That’s my lass,” he murmured into her hair. “I could no longer stay away. You have been watching me for a very long time.”
Eiselle loosened her grip, enough to look him in the face. “Untrue,” she said. “I have not been watching you at all.”
“Then who have you been watching?”
“Mylo.”
He scowled. “Again?”
Eiselle laughed and tightened her grip around his neck, kissing him on the cheek. “I am jesting with you,” she whispered, kissing him again. “I would never watch another man. You are the only man in the world worth watching.”
Bric set her to her feet, his heart full of the warmth from her words. “You always know the right thing to say to me,” he said, taking her hand in his big mitt. “All is forgiven, mo chroí.”
Eiselle’s eyes twinkled at him as he led her back towards the keep, passing Keeva as they went. Keeva was smilingly openly at Bric, a gesture he thought was rather taunting, so he ignored her for the most part. Keeva already knew how happy he was, and how it was because of her bullying tactics he was so happy, but he didn’t want to inflate the woman’s pride by acknowledging it. He heard her laugh as he walked by.
But Eiselle had eyes only for Bric as they headed into the keep, unaware of Keeva’s taunts. “Can I help you pack your things?” she asked. “If I had known what to pack for you, I would have already done so.”
He squeezed her hand as they approached the keep entry. “I appreciate the offer,” he said, “but you need not trouble yourself. I can pack for myself.”
Her face fell. “But I would like to help you and it would save you time,” she said. “Shouldn’t a wife pack for her husband?”
He paused, seeing how very much she wanted to help. He thought it rather adorable. “Very well,” he said. “If you would truly like to pack my things, I will show you what I need.”
Eiselle was eager. “I know I cannot help you with your weapons, but I can help you with clothing and provisions and your bedroll.”
They entered the keep, passing into the torch-lit innards. “Indeed, you can,” he said. “I will show you all you need to know so that the next time, you may help me with it.”
Eiselle was thrilled. Bric took her up to their chamber and pulled out his saddlebags, which he now kept in their chamber as opposed to the armory or his former chamber. He’d moved everything he owned into this room, now his permanent residence, and he spent some time showing her everything he packed when he left on campaign – dry clothing, his oiled cloak, a sewing kit to repair whatever he might tear, small strips of leather with any number of purposes, jerky, a shaving kit, and other small but important things.
He was a patient teacher and Eiselle soaked it up, memorizing everything and the order in which he placed them in his saddlebags. But he was nearing the end of everything he needed and Eiselle still hadn’t seen one particular item that she knew he would want to bring.
“What about your talisman?” she asked. “Won’t you take that, also?”
Bric reached down into the tunic he was wearing and produced it, hanging around his neck. “I always keep it on me,” he said. “You need never worry about that.”
Eiselle admired the piece for a moment. “Please do not ever give it to me again. Promise?”
He gave her a lopsided smile. “If you insist.”
She nodded. “I do.”
He winked at her before returning his attention to his saddlebags, making sure he had everything with him. Meanwhile, Eiselle moved over to the table near their bed, to the embroidered box that contained her sewing kit. Opening the box, she pulled something forth, something she kept enclosed in her hand, and returned to him. Bric noticed that she was trying to keep something from him.
“What do you have?” he asked.
She lifted her shoulders, hesitantly. “It may be silly of me to ask, but would you like to take something of me with you? A keepsake, I mean. Should you want to think of me once in a while on your travels.”
A smile played on his lips. “I always think about you, every moment of every day,” he said. “What did you wish to give me?”
Eiselle finally held up her hand, holding out what she’d been concealing from him. It was a necklace, with a chain made of braided fabric and at the very end was a carefully-looped bunch of dark hair tied up tightly with the same fabric that made the chain. The smile faded from Bric’s face as he took it from her, inspecting it, and Eiselle spoke before he could ask her the obvious question.
“It is the only thing I have to give you that is part of me,” she said. “It is a lock of my hair. I did not have a chain or anything solid to put it on, so the fabric is from the dress I wore when we were married. I am sure you do not recall it, but it was the dress that had belonged to Keeva’s sister. She gave me permission to take some of the fabric from the seams and make this necklace out of it. If you do not wish to wear it, then I completely understand, but I wanted to give you something that meant something to me. Mayhap it will mean something to you, too.”
Bric stared at it. Well did he remember the pale green garment she had worn, the dress Eiselle had been so careful with. He could see that she’d cut three slender scraps and braided them together to create the necklace, which was tied off at the ends with a lock of her hair.
Bric wasn’t a man of great sentiment. Or, at least he never thought he was. He always thought himself rather hardened to emotion, but the introduction of Eiselle had changed that opinion dramatically. He’d grown up in a family of warriors, and had fostered at a very young age, so all he’d ever really known was the seriousness and dedication of the knighthood. Emotions were crippling things, and he had an old master, the same one who had given him the talisman, who had tried to beat all of the emotion out of him.
That was why he had been so puzzled when he’d run from the arrow. He experienced something he’d never experienced before – genuine fear. He never thought himself capable of such emotion, but it was clear that whatever his old master had tried to beat out of him hadn’t entirely fled.
Bric was a man of feeling.
Which was why his throat felt tight as he looked at the necklace Eiselle had made him. It was difficult for him to put his emotions into words.
“I have never in my life received anything so valuable,” he said after a moment. “Your hair… and this dress that I remember you looking so beautiful in… this is the most precious thing I own, Eiselle. To thank you for this doesn’t seem enough.”
Eiselle hadn’t been entirely sure how Bric would have felt about received such a gift and she was deeply pleased that he seemed thrilled by it.
“You like it?” she asked. “Truly?”
He nodded as he continued to look at it. “Truly.”
“I hope that when you look at it, you remember how much I love you. And how much I want you to come home safely.”
He looked at her, his silver gaze lingering on her before putting the necklace over his head and tucking it down his tunic, making sure it was close to his heart. Then, he reached out and cupped her face, kissing her so sweetly that Eiselle’s head began to swim. The man’s kisses were warm, soft, and delicious, and Eiselle put her arms around his neck, pulling him close as his kisses gained in intensity. Before she realized it, he had backed her into the wall as his mouth moved over the tender skin of her neck.
It was natural for him to touch her, to taste her, so his hands and mouth had a mind of their own. He couldn’t even stop himself from pulling at the ties on her surcoat, loosening it just enough so he could pull it down over her shoulders and expose her breasts. He was never content with just a kiss from her; it had to be all of her. He feasted on her nipples as her garment bunched up around her waist, and his hands snaked underneath her skirt.
Eiselle was his plaything. She offered no resistance as his hands stroked her thighs, and finally the tender junction between her legs. She groaned as he slipped his fingers into her, so highly aroused that she climaxed twice before he turned her around, braced her hands against the wall, and flipped up her skirts. Untying his breeches, he lowered them to his knees as he thrust into her from behind.
Eiselle gasped with the pleasure of it as he joined his body with hers, surrendering to the primal mating rhythm. Not a day passed that they didn’t make love at least once, but more often than not it was more than once, and Eiselle’s body was deeply in tune with Bric’s needs. She let him do whatever he wanted to do, and when she asked how she could pleasure him, he’d taken the time to show her how to use her mouth to make him groan.
But there wasn’t time for that tonight; Bric had her where he wanted her and knowing how little time they had left, he branded his wife as only he was capable. When he felt her tremors begin again, he permitted his own release, spilling his hot seed deep into her womb. But even when it was finished and they’d both found their pleasure, he remained joined to her, holding her against him, memorizing the moment for the lonely nights to come, of which there would probably be many.
He missed her already.
“Is this part of the packing process?”
Bric heard her softly-uttered question and he began to laugh, so hard that by the time he and Eiselle uncoupled and she was pulling up her bodice, he was literally crying with laughter. He didn’t let her finish dressing before he was throwing his arms around her, squeezing her tightly as he kissed the side of her head.
“It will be from now on,” he said. “As long as I have breath left in my body, by God, it will be.”
“Good. I like that part of it.”
He released her, his eyes warm upon her. “So do I,” he said. “I love you, Lady MacRohan. You are more than my heart could have ever hoped for.”
His words had her heart aflutter. Coming from a man who often couldn’t find the right words, when he did find them, they were glorious.
“And I love you. With all that I am, I do.”
He kissed her again, enjoying the moment of warmth and passion and humor between them. Never had his heart been so full. As Eiselle quickly finished with the ties on her surcoat, Bric fastened his breeches and turned back to the bed with the saddlebags on it.
From that point on, little was spoken between them. They had said everything that needed saying, so when Bric carried his saddlebags out of the chamber a short time later, he held on to Eiselle tightly, soaking in their last few moments together. Never in his life had he not wanted to attend a battle but, at the moment, he would have been much happier to remain with his wife.
But he had little choice. He walked with Eiselle out of the keep and to the smaller gatehouse that separated the outer bailey from the inner bailey, and there he left her. A gentle kiss, and a few whispered words of love, and he left her standing there, watching him head out into the coal-black night with a lock of her hair nestled snuggly against his heart.
When Bric kissed his talisman as the army left Narborough, as was usual for him, he also kissed the bunch of silken dark hair that smelled faintly of roses. Now, he had both good luck charms with him.
He was immortal.