“Feed me and we will discuss it.”
One of the best moments of Kristoph’s life was when Alary ordered his equally-drunken men to unchain the prisoner, but he wasn’t so drunk that he left Kristoph unattended. With a drunken four-man escort, Kristoph was escorted over to the smelly, low-ceilinged tavern where he sat on the floor by the hearth and enjoyed a feast of boiled mutton and bread.
But to Kristoph, it was the best meal he’d ever tasted.
He tasted hope.
Maybe he would live through this, after all.
At least, that was what he thought until the next morning when Alary woke up with a headache and no memory of their conversation.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
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A Fire Within
Nearing Worcester
Worcester was a city that was partially in ruins.
Surrounded by a massive forest and bisected by the River Severn, a waterway that flooded the city now and again, Worcester had seen better days. Tribes had attacked it from the south some twenty years earlier and burned a great deal of it, and reconstruction had been slow because of continued tribal battles that had been going on since the great burning. But the cathedral stood, soaring into the cloudy sky, like a great bastion of hope and faith amidst the ruins of the struggling city.
After leaving Evesham, she was back to riding her shaggy mare, Ghislaine led the knights through trees and meadows towards this downtrodden city. Three days since the arrow strike that had nearly crippled her, she was wasn’t feeling particularly well but she wasn’t one to give in to illness or injury of any kind. The Normans had learned that about her. She’d only ridden with Gaetan the night of her injury when he’d rushed her to Evesham Abbey where the knights had proceeded to tend her – all of them, in fact.
Every one of them knew what she had done to draw out the enemy and save them from an ambush, so in that one swift motion, she’d changed the minds of them all. It had been an act of bravery by a woman like none other. Even de Moray, who had always been so suspicious of her, was now a believer in her honesty and intention to help. Although the price of proving her worth had been high, it had been worth it in Ghislaine’s opinion. It was worth it even more in the way that Gaetan was now being so attentive to her.
But he wasn’t the only one. When it came time to tend her wounds, it was like having nine physics while Jathan simply stood by and watched, praying furiously while the knights dealt with the wound. When they’d reached Evesham after the attack, the priests from Evesham’s cathedral were very helpful and brought boiled linen and medicines, herbal remedies, that promised to help the wound.
Once they were able to take a close look at the damage, they could see that the arrow had missed her bone. It was a clean puncture straight through her leg. Unfortunately, Aramis has been correct – it was a dirty wound. The arrow had pushed leather and fabric into her leg as it traveled and that was something that needed to come out. The knights knew it and so did Ghislaine. As she bit off her groans of pain on a rag, Gaetan plucked out the debris by candlelight with a long set of iron tweezers provided by the priests.
It had been a rather harrowing experience but one that had understandably bonded Ghislaine to the knights. They’d all been wounded at one or more points in their lives so they well understood her agony when it came to cleaning out a wound.
But Ghislaine was strong. She didn’t faint or go into hysterics even when Gaetan put stitches in her leg, and Aramis patted her on the shoulder more than once during the procedure. The big knight with the muddy dark eyes remained by her side until Gaetan’s eyesight began to give out in the weak light and then he took over, cleaning out what Gaetan had missed. When both Aramis and Gaetan were satisfied they’d sufficiently cleaned the wound, it was doused again with wine to cleanse it and honey was applied as a salve to keep away the poison. Gaetan then wrapped it up tightly.
But Ghislaine didn’t stay awake long enough to suffer extended pain. Exhausted to the bone from the events of the day, the monks had given her a draught of wine with poppy powder in it to make her sleep, and sleep she did. She slept well into the morning and no one bothered to wake her up.
In fact, as she slept against the wall of the cathedral covered up by several cloaks that the knights had so thoughtfully deposited on her during the course of the night, Gaetan and his men secured all entrances into the cathedral and refused to let anyone in while she slept. They threatened anyone who tried. For that day, the priests of Evesham had to hold mass on the steps at the front of the church.
When Ghislaine finally awoke well into the morning and realized what Gaetan and his men had done, she had to admit that she was very touched. Aramis and Lance de Reyne brought her food, simple gruel and watered wine, but she slurped it down as Aramis went to check her wound. But that brought Gaetan around and he pushed Aramis aside as he checked his handiwork on her leg personally. Little did Ghislaine know that he was getting a bit of a thrill at the tender white flesh of her thigh and, Gaetan thought, so was Aramis.
There was a competition afoot.
In fact, Gaetan became somewhat territorial over her, especially around de Russe whom, he suspected, was becoming rather enamored with the woman who bested him at Westerham. He’d known Aramis for years and he’d never shown much attention towards women, considering them a necessary nuisance and nothing more. So for Aramis to show Ghislaine the concern he was, in fact, had Gaetan concerned.
It shouldn’t have, but it did.
Gaetan wasn’t entirely sure why, other than the fact his attitude towards Ghislaine was different since the arrow strike. He’d been pulled towards her from the start but now, that pull was stronger than he could control. He’d once considered taking her as his bedslave but, somehow, she was too good for that. She didn’t deserve to be relegated to a man’s bed. She was courageous, beautiful, and strong. So very strong. A woman like that deserved to be a queen.
Or the wife of a great warlord.