1606011324-Lady-Knight-Chenery Read online

  “What can I do for you, my friend?”

  “What makes you think I want something? Maybe I thought you would like to join me in having a goblet of wine.”

  “You want something. Since the battled ended everyone who feels they are entitled to the share of the wealth has come to remind me of their service during the fighting. Why shouldn’t I hear what my friend wants from the spoils? Pour us each some wine and tell me what you would like.”

  Going over to the small table sitting in the corner of the tent, Broc poured two goblets of the wine inside the pitcher. Handing one to William, he settled his big frame into one of the camp chairs in front of the table that took up most of the space in the room.

  “It’s true, I want something. Do you remember before we came to England you said I could have some land? If you’re still inclined to grant me lands, I would like to make a request.”

  “If it is land you want, you may have it.”

  “I’d like Elmstead for my own.”

  Pulling one of his maps of England open, William scanned its surface. “Are you sure this is the land you want? It’s not very large. I hold you in higher regard than the others. I’ll give you a bigger grant.”

  Broc shook his head. “Nay, I want Elmstead. I’ve seen it and it is all I want.”

  William smiled knowingly. “That is where you met the girl, is it not?”

  “Aye, and as luck would have it, the prisoner I took for ransom is the thane’s son.”

  “I wondered why you took a prisoner. You usually don’t take many, if at all, during battle.” William closely studied his friend’s face. “There is something more you have not told me.”

  Broc smiled. William never missed anything. “You know me so well. All right, I saved the boy’s life because he looks a lot like the girl. I think they must be brother and sister. Although the boy is a thane’s son and the sister a peasant.”

  “She is probably a bastard. That doesn’t bother you, her having peasant blood as well as being illegitimate?”

  “Nay, it does not.” Some of the barons had trouble dealing with William because of the peasant blood in his veins. Even though his father had been a duke, men could not forget that his mother’s father was a tanner. The added stigma of being a bastard on top of it did not help either.

  The new king sat back and formed a steeple with his fingers before him. He appeared to be thinking something over before he spoke once again. “If I give you this land, when would you leave to take possession?”

  “With the dawn.” At the shocked look on William’s face, Broc quickly pushed on. “I have served you faithfully. All you need to do is summon me and I’ll come in your time of need. This is something I must do. The girl haunts my dreams. She’s never far from my mind. She is an obsession I cannot shake. Besides, you know your friendship with me has not been highly looked upon.”

  “I’m not blind. I see how the others shun you. Fine, the lands are yours on one condition. You spend Christ mass at court. I will not break my friendship with you just because the others feel they will lose out on some profit.”

  Standing, Broc bowed before his king. “I thank you, sire. I will take the boy with me. I’m still your man and always will be.”

  With a nod of his head, William acknowledged his words. Giving him another bow, Broc turned and left King William on his own.

  * * * *

  The dawn broke crisp and clear, a perfect day for traveling. Broc pulled his heavy cloak more closely around him. He had not slept well that night, the boy dominated his dreams. Dreams he found disturbing.

  He would be making love to the girl, and then the scene would change. The girl would turn into Wulf. What bothered Broc the most was even though he knew it was the boy he could not stop himself from making love to him. Broc had never had any of those feelings towards a man before. Ever. So why did he dream of the boy?

  Crossing the camp, Broc saw most of the Saxon dead had been cleared away. William had chosen to camp where Harold had held his position on the ridge during the battle. Last night room had to be made by dragging the dead aside. When the small tent came into view, Broc steeled himself to face Wulf.

  Entering the tent, Broc noted the three other Saxons who sat at the opposite side of the tent away from Wulf. They barely glanced at Broc as he passed them to awaken the boy.

  “Wulf, wake up.” Getting no response Broc grabbed his shoulder and gave him a shake. The boy moaned. Rolling Wulf gently onto his back, Broc sucked in his breath. He could feel the heat coming off the boy’s body. Placing his hand on Wulf’s forehead and flushed cheeks, Broc felt the fire burning within him.

  Pulling the left sleeve of Wulf’s tunic up, Broc gently unwound the bandage that covered his shoulder. The wound was bright red with infection. With a curse, Broc inspected the discarded dressing. Just as he had thought, the healer had neglected to apply a poultice to keep the infection away.

  The boy must have started to suffer sometime during the night. Gently probing the wound brought puss to the surface. Wulf moaned in pain. Broc felt his temper rise, anger at the healer for not doing his duty properly. Even though the boy was Saxon, he did not deserve to die this way. But most of his anger was directed at the three others that had listened to the boy moan in pain and did nothing.

  Rising to his feet, Broc walked over to the older men. Hands formed into fists, he stood before them. “Why did you let the boy suffer? If you could not help him, why did you not call for someone?”

  One of the men stood up to face the knight. “He deserves to die.”

  “Why?”

  “He failed in his duty. The least he could do is die from the wound.”

  Broc thrust the urge away to punch the man in the face. “What exactly did he fail at?”

  “To protect the king. That boy over there is one of the king’s house carls. He should have died with the king instead of being taken for ransom. Most of the others died proudly beside their liege.”

  Unable to contain his anger any longer, Broc went back to Wulf’s side. Wrapped in a blanket the boy still shivered. Broc knew what had to be done to save him. He had to get him home.

  * * * *

  With that decision in mind, Broc picked up Wulf and carried him out of the tent. A few of the soldiers stared at Broc as he passed through the camp. So intent on reaching his own tent, Broc walked right past William who stood outside his own.

  Broc turned at the sound of another’s footsteps behind him. Seeing it was William, he gently placed the boy on his cot and looked up at his visitor.

  “I could use your help. If you do not mind.”

  William stepped over to the cot and looked down at the boy. “He looks in rough shape. Is this the prisoner you took?”

  “Aye. It seems I should have kept a closer eye on him. The healer did nothing to the wound but bandage it. I will not let him die.”

  William raised a brow at his friend’s stricken tone. “He reminds you of the girl that much?”

  “Aye.” Broc softly pushed the pale blond hair from Wulf’s brow. “Aye, he does. But right now I must start the fight to save him. Can you take off his tunic while I go to the healer for the medicines I’ll need?”

  “Go, I’ll help. He looks so young. He deserves to live a little longer.”

  * * * *

  Broc ran out of the tent to get what he needed. William took a closer look at the boy. He was very young. Not even a hint of a beard could been seen on his cheeks. But William had to admit the boy was handsome. Some would even call him beautiful. If Broc’s girl looked similar, then she would indeed be something a man would not forget.

  Turning back to the task at hand, William grabbed the hem of the tunic and lifted. Underneath he encountered white strips of material that completely swathed the boy’s chest. William stopped and stared. All was obviously not what they seemed to be. Reaching down to the space between Wulf’s legs, William confirmed his suspicions.

  When the girl stiffened in protest, he
looked up to find two beautiful blue eyes staring back at him. “What’s your real name?”

  She answered barely above a whisper. “Ariel.”

  “You are her. The girl Broc met in Elmstead?”

  “Aye. Please don’t tell him.”

  “But why? He has not been able to get you off his mind.”

  “There is more at stake than my telling him who I am.”

  It did not take much deducing on William’s part to figure out why the girl wanted her secret kept. “A child. He left you with child.”

  Ariel tried to prop herself up. “He must never know. He gave up that right when he walked away. He didn’t even bother to find out my name.” Ariel slumped back down on the cot. Her face had gone white from having to hold herself up. “Who are you?”

  “William, your new king.” At Ariel’s shocked look, the king chuckled. “Broc is my friend, but I’ll not tell your secret. You will have to decide what to do about the child. You see, I just gave Elmstead to Broc. He will be living with you, closer than you would like I suppose.”

  “How could you? My father never fought against you.”

  William shook his head at the girl’s misconception before he continued. “I can because I’m now king. Broc asked for Elmstead, so I gave it to him. You’re lucky, he’s a good man. He won’t evict you off the land. In fact, I would strongly urge you to tell him who you are, then marry Broc. That way you will not lose your home.”

  Ariel shook her head. As the last of her strength ran out, her eyes fluttered shut and she slipped into unconsciousness.

  Chapter 12

  The first drops of rain started to fall shortly before darkness fell. Broc kicked his horse into a canter. There definitely would be no stopping for rest. The rain would not help the boy’s condition.

  Upon his return from the healer’s tent, Broc had been a little surprised by what he had found. William had been sitting on the cot with Wulf cradled against his chest. It almost seemed as if he was protecting the boy. Since the king had refused to release Wulf, Broc had had to work on the boy’s shoulder while in his arms. William had watched him intently the whole time. Even William’s parting words had seemed strange. He had said there was more to the boy than met the eye. He then advised Broc to look deeper, whatever that meant.

  The rain that had started as a light shower now came down in buckets. He had to keep Wulf warm. Broc undid his cloak and wrapped himself along with the boy in it. If only the rain had waited. The day wore on and the rain showed no sign of letting up. There was nothing to do but push on. Darkness fell. The thick clouds from the rain covered the moon’s brightness, obscuring most of the light it would have shed. Broc knew he had to reach Elmstead or Wulf’s chances of survival would be slim to none.

  A few miles from their destination, Broc pulled his horse off the road. The rain had lightened to a drizzle and dawn had started to inch over the horizon. Wulf now thrashed in his arms and kept calling for someone named Colwyn.

  Heat washed over him when Broc pulled the wet blanket off of Wulf. As he had expected, the fever had increased. The boy’s face looked even more flushed and he was becoming delirious. Broc cradled him on his lap and as gently as he could, pulled the bandage from the wound. The infection had grown worse. Puss ran out of the wound at the slightest probing.

  He quickly applied a poultice and re-bandaged the wound. Broc knew he did not have much time left. He felt lightheaded from lack of sleep. Somehow he settled the boy once more in a manageable position on top of the horse. Looking down at the boy, Broc scanned his face.

  The features were so fine they could almost be a woman’s. He resembled the girl so much Broc had to stop himself from doing the unthinkable. The urge to kiss the pink, slightly pouting lips seemed almost too much of a temptation. He shook his head. It must be lack of sleep making him think this way. It had to be.

  An hour later they galloped through the village of Elmstead. Broc did not pull up until he clattered into the yard of the thane’s dwelling. Even though the hour was still early, a few villagers could be seen milling about. Broc shouted to one of them. “I need the thane. Tell him it’s urgent.”

  A man who stood closest to the hall rushed inside. He reappeared a few minutes later with an older man. Broc studied him as he approached. Despite his years, the man would still be considered good looking. His body still had a warrior’s build. His hair was blond, but not quite as blond as his son. When he came closer, Broc noticed his eyes were grey. He assumed Wulf must resemble his mother more in looks rather than his father.

  The thane came to stand beside the horse. “I am Swein, the thane. What’s so urgent?”

  Broc reached down and placed the boy in the older man’s arms. He then watched the blanket fall away from Wulf’s face. Swein turned white. He clasped the boy close to his chest and spun around to return to the hall. Quickly dismounting, Broc gave his horse’s reins to a villager then followed Swein into the hall.

  Wulf had been laid out on a table, and it had not taken the thane long to find the wound. Without looking up, Swein spoke. “How did this happen? I know you are a Norman. Did your Duke William finally arrive?”

  Broc pulled his helmet off and placed it at Wulf’s feet before coming to stand at the opposite side of the table. “Aye, he did. He is now King of England. Harold is dead.”

  The older man still did not look up. “So what is to happen to us Saxons? Are we to lose everything? Our respect? Our way of life? Our lands?”

  “I don’t know what the king has in mind for England. All I do know is he gave Elmstead to me.”

  Swein’s head snapped up to look at the Norman who stood on the other side of the table. His eyes seemed to become riveted onto Broc’s face. “What is your name?”

  “I’m Broc St. Ceneri.”

  “Well, Broc St. Ceneri, we will discuss who owns Elmstead later. Right now I have to save my son.”

  Broc tried to reassure the thane. “I have done everything I could for Wulf. I don’t think it was enough. Bringing him home seemed the best thing I could do for him.”

  “I am grateful for that mercy. Our healer will take over now.” Reaching down, the thane lifted his son off the table. Before he could walk away Broc stopped him.

  “Wait. I would like to help, with Wulf that is.”

  “You have done enough already.” Swein turned to Broc and spoke with anger in his voice. “If it had not been for you Normans, I would not have my child brought home half dead. And why are you alone with my son? Where is Osbern? He would never leave Wulf’s side without a fight.”

  Broc shook his head. “He died during the battle. He protected your son until the end.”

  Swein’s face grew grim as he nodded. “Well I hope he did not die in vain. I now have to mourn the loss of a friend. God help you if I have to mourn the loss of my child.”

  “Then let me help. I wouldn’t like to see the boy die.”

  Swein looked at Broc. He must have seen something on Broc’s face that made him nod once again. “Fine, I’ll let you know when you can be of service. Get some rest first. I will have one of the serfs show you to a chamber.”

  Broc felt something akin to panic as he watched the thane take his son to one of the chambers at the back of the hall. He actually found himself taking a step forward to follow before he pulled himself back.

  The thane was right, he needed to sleep. In his need to hurry he had not slept at all in the last twenty-four hours. If he wanted to be of any help at all he had to get some rest.

  * * * *

  The pain was almost unbearable. It would be so easy to sink back down into the blackness, but something or someone beckoned. Ariel tried to ignore the voice as she felt herself starting to sink back down into the void. The voice became more persistent.

  Why would it not leave her be? The blackness was her friend. The pain went away while it embraced her.

  Still the voice called.

  This time Ariel followed the sound to the surface. If s
he answered it maybe it would leave her alone. Her eyes fluttered open. A face hung above her. Blinking, Ariel let her eyes adjust to the brightness of the room. The face smiled. She almost wished she had not opened her eyes. It was Broc’s face she saw, very close to her own.

  “Come on, Wulf. Stay with us for awhile.”

  Ariel let out a groan. “What...what? Where am I?” Her voice sounded rough to her ears.

  “At home in Elmstead.”

  Looking around the room she found herself in her own bed, in her own chamber. She closed her eyes in contentment. She was home. But then reality set in. Broc was at Elmstead. Her eyes snapped open. “I must see my father.” Pushing herself up, Ariel tried to get off the bed, but her body failed her before she could lift herself very far.

  Broc gently pushed her back down on the bed. “Where do you think you are going? Your fever has just broken. I’ll get your father.”

  As soon as Broc left the room, Ariel scanned her chamber. Someone had removed all of her gowns, for they no longer hung on the pegs along the back of the wall. In their place hung tunics and trews. She felt herself relax. Her father must have realized Broc knew her only as a boy.

  The chamber door opened and Swein walked in. Seeing Ariel awake, he rushed to her side, knelt down and grabbed her hand to place a kiss on it. “I praise God the fever has passed. You had me worried, my girl. Especially after the Norman said you had not awoken for the last few days.”

  Worry marked Ariel’s face. “The Norman is Colwyn’s father.”

  “Aye, I know. You only have to look at his face to reach that conclusion.”

  “Where is Colwyn? Broc must not see him. He hasn’t recognized me. I’m not going to tell him I’m really a woman.”

  “I figured that much when he called you Wulf. Have no fear about him seeing your boy. While the Norman slept, I moved Colwyn into one of the new huts in the village. Lily is with him.” Ariel let herself relax at that bit of news.