NEW BEGINNING
They went back to the market and spent a few hours there. When night started to fall, dusk creeping through the woods quick and early, they retired back to the inn.
They ordered dinner and sat to eat it. It was gammon and dumplings, fine gravy in a tureen between them.
“Could you pass me the gravy?” Henry asked.
Amice nodded. She passed it and spilled some on his hand.
He yelled. “You slattern!” he said loudly, in French. “You clumsy, doltish oaf!”
Amice stared at him. She stood up, face outraged. She slapped him.
He jumped up from his chair and went for her. She shrieked and stumbled backwards. The other customers either ignored it or stood up themselves. Someone shouted at them to keep it quiet and someone else agreed. Amice cowered on the floor as the innkeeper strode briskly up.
“That's enough, sir,” he said to Henry. A big man, with a big presence, he didn't need to do much to be threatening. He just stood between her and Henry.
Henry's eyes narrowed. He raised a hand, and then thought better of it. Cursing, he turned on his heel and stalked into the hallway. Amice heard his boots on the flooring, then saw the light catch his pale cloak as he swirled it across himself. She heard him walk to the door and go out.
“I...” she stammered as the innkeeper bent to help her up.
“Are you well, lassie?” he asked gently. “How dare that foreign monster...” he shook his head. “I'm sorry, lass. I shouldn't say such things. But are you well?”
“I'm fine,” she said shakily. “I think I'll lie down. He's not been himself lately,” she added quietly. “So worried. I think it's because of that letter he has. In his saddle pack. I don't know what he read in it. But he's been agitated ever since.”
The inn-keeper patted her shoulder thoughtfully. “There, there. Are you well? Or can I call the missus? She can give you a drink to let you sleep.”
“I...thank you,” Amice murmured. Then she frowned. “He'd be ever so angry with me,” she said, hiccupping nervously. “I shouldn't have told you. That letter's a secret. He'd go wild!”
“There, there,” the inn-keeper said. “It's all well. I'll no' tell. You have a lie down now. You'll feel better in the morning. Cruel fiend,” he muttered under his breath.
Amice let him lead her to the stairs, leaning on his arm. Then, when he'd gone, she ran quickly up the stairs to their bedroom. Slammed the door shut behind her and leaned against it for a moment. Then she sat on the bed, head whirling.
Right. That was the easy bit. Now's the hard part.
She heard a knock at the door. It was the inn-keeper's wife. “There, there, lassie,” she said gently. She was carrying a tray on which a big clay pitcher rested. “Here. Brought you some milk with some special herbs in. That'll help you rest. Always works, it does. Bit of rest, you'll feel much better in the morning.”
“Thank you,” Amice murmured. “You're very kind.”
As the woman looked at her searchingly and left the drink, she did her best to calm down, despite the fact that her heart was thumping and she wanted to stand up and run.
When the woman had gone, she lifted the pitcher and threw out the contents. Then she shrugged out of her clothes and into her nightgown and climbed into bed. She closed her eyes and lay still.
Wait, she told herself. Don't fall asleep. I know you're tired. One, two, three, four, five, six...
When she had counted ten lots of ten, she heard something. The latch rattled. She stayed where she was. Don't move. You are sleeping. Don't twitch.
She counted again. The latch rattled, then was still. Then, quietly, regularly, the door inched open. Amice, with her eyes closed, only knew it because of the slightly brighter light out in the hall, and the whisper of a breeze over her hair.
The floor creaked. Stopped. Creaked. The bright light faded and went out. The door clicked shut.
Now it was her, the room lit only by the fitful red glow of the fire, and someone.
A someone who walked with silent feet across the floor. The only reason she knew he moved was because a shadow rippled and touched her face as he stood before the fire. She made her breathing slow. In. out. Don't move. You're asleep.
The shadow disappeared. She heard a sound. A rustle. Whoever it was, they were searching in her saddle pack. She heard the sound of the clasp being unfastened, the almost-inaudible thud as the cover flap fell and whoever it was opened it. Breathe. Don't twitch.
She lay still as the person finished with her saddle pack. Then she heard them move again. The floor creaked. Then stopped. Then the same sounds again as whoever it was opened the other pack, this time the one belonging to Henry. She heard furtive rustles as they felt about in the luggage.
She heard an in-drawn breath. Then the person stood and the floor creaked as they moved. She saw the shadow grow and cover her face, and then she heard a step. Whoever it was, they were at the bedside. They were looking down at her. She tensed.
Don't move. Lie still. Breathe. You're not awake. You're asleep. Still.
Her heart was making such a noise she was sure whoever this was must hear it. She felt as if things crawled on her skin as she thought of them staring down at her. She heard a breath and felt a hand reach out.
When whoever it was touched her hair, she couldn't lie still any longer. She tensed. The person hissed in a breath. She felt their hand move, covering her mouth.
She opened her eyes and tried to scream.
The man – it was the thin-faced, red-haired man they had seen earlier – swore and hit her on the side of the head. He held her down. He was trying to cover her nose, force her head into the pillow.
He is going to try and suffocate me. I could die. I will die.
She had no idea what to do. There was only one thing she could do. She fought.
She bit his hand and he yelped, and then raised a hand to strike her. Then the door swung open so violently that it hit the wall with its force.
“You!” a voice roared. Someone sprang at her attacker. He turned round in time to meet the onslaught.
Henry was there. Henry, who wore only his shirt and trews and was unarmed save for his fists. Henry, whose hair shone in the firelight and whose face was twisted in rage. Henry, who was white with anger and who pushed the man so violently he fell against the wall then hit his head, systematically, into the oaken-beams.
“You evil, wicked, cruel, filthy...” he was snarling, each word punctuated with a blow. “How dare you touch her! How dare you...” He continued in his onslaught as Amice rolled from under the blanket and stood beside him.
“Henry, stop,” she whispered as the man fought and tried to get away. “Henry? Henry!” she pounded on his shoulder with her fist. She was afraid. She had never seen someone so angry before and she knew it would be all too easy for him to kill the man in this current state. “Henry...”
“Huh?” he whipped round as she hit his shoulder with all her force. Somehow, that got through the haze of madness that had overwhelmed him, at least for a moment. He stared at her.
“Henry, I am well. Let him go. Henry, you don't want to be a murderer.”
“Huh? Oh...” Henry sighed. Her words cut into the wild rage and he opened his hand, letting the man go. The man stayed where he was, against the wall. He was dazed, evidently. As Amice and Henry stepped back, it seemed to dawn on him that he was released. He looked at Henry, his vision clearing finally and he stood up. Then, stumbling, he hurried from the room. Henry waited until they heard booted feet clatter on the stairs. Then he shut the door. Locked it. Sat down.
He leaned forward, knees on elbows. Covered his face with his hands. He was shivering.
“Henry?” Amice said. Now she was worried about him. He looked exhausted. His face was white, his whole body shuddering. “Henry, I'm fine,” she said gently, coming to sit beside him on the chest for storing clothes. “Henry. I'm fine...I am well. He's gone. Nothing bad happened. It's well. You can stop worrying now.”
Henry went still. He sat up. His eyes met hers. As she watched, his eyes filled with tears and he held her to him, rocking her and holding her.
“My dear love,” he said. “My dear, dear love.” He kissed her brow, then her hair, then her eyes. “I am so, so sorry. I can't believe that happened. I nearly let him kill you. Oh, my dear.”
Amice let him speak, and then sat up. She put her hands on either side of his face.
“Henry, my love,” she said gently. “It's well. He didn't, did he? I'm not harmed. You saved me. You saved my life, again. Nothing happened. You can relax.”
Henry sighed. He rested a hand on her knee and then put his hands over hers, where they were clasped on her knee. “I'm sorry, my dear.” He chuckled. His voice was dry and scratchy. “I didn't mean to...to go that mad.” He shook his head. Dabbed his eyes with his handkerchief. He gave a shaky laugh. “I almost finished him.”
Amice nodded. “I'm glad you saw sense. We don't want to be arrested for murder.”
Henry laughed. “Quite so, dear.” He nodded. “Thank you, for, um, what you did back there.”
Amice let out a shaky breath. “Well, thank you, too.” She nodded. “Now. What have we learned?”
Henry laughed. “You sound like Father Baldwin, my tutor. I learned how bad my temper can be. And that I shouldn't get carried away. Oh, and not to kill people.”
Amice giggled. “Henry, you know I didn't mean that. I meant, did we find out something useful?”
Henry sighed. “As always, you make me see reason. Yes, we did. First, we know that man was a spy. Second, we know he knows I am, too. Thirdly, you were right about who he was – he served us at dinner. He was in the duke's staff. Well-spotted, my dear.” He paused. “I should have held him. Got more information out of him. I let him go.”
Amice shook her head. “You have the right of it, Henry,” she said slowly. “We know all we needed to know. No need to make the fellow suffer any further.”
Henry chuckled. “My dear, you teach me a lot. Observation, rationality. Kindness.”
Amice smiled. “You teach me a lot, too, Henry. Courage. Trust. Love.”
Henry looked down at her with immense tenderness. He held her in his arms and when he kissed her, it felt like nothing had ever felt before. Completely right and entirely wonderful. She looked up at him, blinking back tears.
They opened the cheese they had bought and made a dinner out of what they had in their packs. Chestnuts, cheese. A few bread rolls from the castle kitchen.
Henry laughed. “We put on a fine show this evening, didn't we?”
“I almost believed you,” Amice said. “You looked so cruel!” she shook her head.
“I think the inn-keeper would have finished me,” he chuckled, chewing on some chestnuts. He cracked her one and passed it to her gently. “He looked murderous.”
Amice giggled. “Well, at least we know he keeps an eye out for his customers. I hope he doesn't make trouble for us.”
“I'm sure he won't,” Henry demurred. He licked a spot on the side of his left index finger ruefully. “The gravy burned!”
Amice smiled sadly. “I'm sorry, dear. I wish we had something to put on it.”
“It's not bad.”
They finished their simple repast in silence and then, slowly, undressed and got ready for bed.
“I'll go over there,” Henry said quickly. “You can go behind the bed curtain.”
“Very well,” Amice agreed. She drew the curtain and slid out of her dress. She did it with delicious urgency, conscious all the time she was undressing that he was so close.
He could turn round any moment and draw the curtain.
She slipped into her nightgown. “Ready,” she called. She waited and, when she heard the floor shift, she moved round the curtain and drew it back, clambering into bed.
He was across the room from her, dressed in the formless night shirt. It hung to his feet, a sheer linen gown from his shoulders, buttoned up the front. She stared at him. He was so handsome. She moved shyly aside.
“You can sleep here,” she said. Her throat was scratchy, her mouth oddly dry as if she had sucked citrons.
He sat down, the bed shifting below him. Then he swung his legs onto the bed and slipped under the covers.
“It's cold outside,” he murmured.
Amice lay still. She nodded. “It is. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” he whispered. He said something else and it was only as she turned over, turning her back on him, that she realized what it was.
Goodnight, my love.
She closed her eyes and squeezed back the tears. She loved him so much! She wanted him so much! She was so touched by those words he spoke. Then, tired out, she fell into a deep sleep.