his housekeeper from their
lands? The distinctive combination of smells that identified each
castle assured her she had never visited here before. So where were
they? The stair leveled into a landing and they halted as Bronnie
swung the creaking door wide and ushered them in. “Where are
we? Is there a bed for William?” she insisted, her voice
sharp as a slap.
“Aye, m’lady.”
His French grated with harsh consonants, but Saura
could hear the obsequious whimper in Bronnie’s voice.
She’d taught him respect with the whiplash of her tongue.
“That’s to say, nay,
m’lady.” He groaned under the sharp jab of her elbow.
“There’s a palliasse on th’ floor. In this room
we prepared just for ye.”
“You call this prison a room?” She
placed one hand on one wall and without moving her feet, simply by
leaning, she placed her other hand on the other wall. “But a
palliasse isbetter than nothing. Lay my Lord
William on it. Gently , you
fools!” As she knelt beside the unconscious man, her ear
caught the squeak of shoes sneaking out the door. “You cannot
leave until you bring me water and bandage material,” she
enunciated clearly, and the feet stopped.
“Eh, well, I’ll have to ask th’
lord.”
She rose to her feet in a magnificent fury.
“Ask him! Aye, and ask him if he wanted Lord William killed
by your stupidity, too. Ask him how he feels about a churl who
disobeys the commands of a baron’s daughter. Ask
him—”
“I’ll bring th’ water,”
Bronnie answered hastily.
“And the bandaging. And something for us to
eat, I’m hungry. And extra blankets.”
The large man shuffled out, escaping her authority,
while Bronnie bowed and said, “Aye, m’lady. As ye wish,
m’lady.”
Then he left, too, shutting the door with a solid
thunk and leaving Saura standing alone. As quickly as he
disappeared, so did her supporting anger. Her chin dropped, her
knees folded. She crouched beside William, her fingers frantically
combing his head, seeking the cause of his long unconsciousness. A
lump rose there on the back of his neck, and it felt angry and
hard, full of blood. A goose egg, her mother had called them,
painful but not serious. Surely there was some other injury, but
her hands could discover nothing else. As far down as she could run
her hands beneath his clothes, there was nothing. The top of his
head, his face, nothing.
With a groan, she thumped her head beside
William’s. Her hands clutched her middle, her knees tucked
close to her chest, and she lay there, unmoving, in the depths of
despair, beyond tears. No thoughts crossed her mind, no ideas
lightened her darkness.
She was blind. As useless and repulsive as her
stepfather had told her. She couldn’t see the attackers for
William. Shecouldn’t scout out their
surroundings, couldn’t seek useful weapons, couldn’t do
anything of any use to anybody. She couldn’t even force
respect from that lowborn churl, couldn’t even get him to
bring water and bandaging and food and blankets, all things they
would need to survive the night with comfort. She was nothing more
than a worm.
Life seemed brightest just before it was snatched
away. Those nebulous dreams of hers had led them to the stream, had
distracted her when she should have been listening for the whisper
of feet in the woods. When she lived in her stepfather’s
house, she had always listened. She never slept unless Maud guarded
her, she never worked alone, she never walked in the garden or
bailey without listening, listening for the scuttling sound of
Theobald’s shoes. He wanted to lay his hands on her body,
breathe his fetid breath on her face, poke himself at her. She
shuddered and rubbed the serpent that twisted her insides. How
could a man despise someone as much as Theobald despised her and
still want to fornicate with her?
Did she dare think she loved William? She squirmed
as Theobald’s jeering echoed through her head. He’d
tormented her ceaselessly, and with no
lands? The distinctive combination of smells that identified each
castle assured her she had never visited here before. So where were
they? The stair leveled into a landing and they halted as Bronnie
swung the creaking door wide and ushered them in. “Where are
we? Is there a bed for William?” she insisted, her voice
sharp as a slap.
“Aye, m’lady.”
His French grated with harsh consonants, but Saura
could hear the obsequious whimper in Bronnie’s voice.
She’d taught him respect with the whiplash of her tongue.
“That’s to say, nay,
m’lady.” He groaned under the sharp jab of her elbow.
“There’s a palliasse on th’ floor. In this room
we prepared just for ye.”
“You call this prison a room?” She
placed one hand on one wall and without moving her feet, simply by
leaning, she placed her other hand on the other wall. “But a
palliasse isbetter than nothing. Lay my Lord
William on it. Gently , you
fools!” As she knelt beside the unconscious man, her ear
caught the squeak of shoes sneaking out the door. “You cannot
leave until you bring me water and bandage material,” she
enunciated clearly, and the feet stopped.
“Eh, well, I’ll have to ask th’
lord.”
She rose to her feet in a magnificent fury.
“Ask him! Aye, and ask him if he wanted Lord William killed
by your stupidity, too. Ask him how he feels about a churl who
disobeys the commands of a baron’s daughter. Ask
him—”
“I’ll bring th’ water,”
Bronnie answered hastily.
“And the bandaging. And something for us to
eat, I’m hungry. And extra blankets.”
The large man shuffled out, escaping her authority,
while Bronnie bowed and said, “Aye, m’lady. As ye wish,
m’lady.”
Then he left, too, shutting the door with a solid
thunk and leaving Saura standing alone. As quickly as he
disappeared, so did her supporting anger. Her chin dropped, her
knees folded. She crouched beside William, her fingers frantically
combing his head, seeking the cause of his long unconsciousness. A
lump rose there on the back of his neck, and it felt angry and
hard, full of blood. A goose egg, her mother had called them,
painful but not serious. Surely there was some other injury, but
her hands could discover nothing else. As far down as she could run
her hands beneath his clothes, there was nothing. The top of his
head, his face, nothing.
With a groan, she thumped her head beside
William’s. Her hands clutched her middle, her knees tucked
close to her chest, and she lay there, unmoving, in the depths of
despair, beyond tears. No thoughts crossed her mind, no ideas
lightened her darkness.
She was blind. As useless and repulsive as her
stepfather had told her. She couldn’t see the attackers for
William. Shecouldn’t scout out their
surroundings, couldn’t seek useful weapons, couldn’t do
anything of any use to anybody. She couldn’t even force
respect from that lowborn churl, couldn’t even get him to
bring water and bandaging and food and blankets, all things they
would need to survive the night with comfort. She was nothing more
than a worm.
Life seemed brightest just before it was snatched
away. Those nebulous dreams of hers had led them to the stream, had
distracted her when she should have been listening for the whisper
of feet in the woods. When she lived in her stepfather’s
house, she had always listened. She never slept unless Maud guarded
her, she never worked alone, she never walked in the garden or
bailey without listening, listening for the scuttling sound of
Theobald’s shoes. He wanted to lay his hands on her body,
breathe his fetid breath on her face, poke himself at her. She
shuddered and rubbed the serpent that twisted her insides. How
could a man despise someone as much as Theobald despised her and
still want to fornicate with her?
Did she dare think she loved William? She squirmed
as Theobald’s jeering echoed through her head. He’d
tormented her ceaselessly, and with no