Protected by the Warrior Page 9

  Brindi didn’t answer. Shortly after, Kenneth entered and prepared the table to be his bed. Clara refused to surrender to her curiosity and peer through the hearth to see if he was limping. She’d find out in the morning if his fall had left any ill effects.

  Still, Brindi was right about one thing. She should pray for forgiveness. For she surely had lost her temper with the man and hadn’t really felt sorry for his fall.

  Lord, forgive me. Keep Rowena safe. Help me find the best place for her and the babe.

  She huddled deeper into the bedclothes. But Kenneth’s occasional groans were too much for her curiosity. She twisted about and peered over the dying fire.

  He was limping. And rubbing his head. Clara bit her lip. She should check him out. Her aunt had told her of one old man who’d fallen and cracked his head open, only to die in his sleep.

  She should check his head and see if he had any broken bones.

  She sat up, and Brindi opened her eyes.

  “Get to sleep, Brindi.”

  “Are you going to see if his brains are falling out?” the girl whispered.

  “I’m sure his brains are fine. I will check him for broken bones. But if you don’t get to sleep right now, I will have you doing all the chores tomorrow.”

  With that threat, Brindi flopped over onto her side and fell silent. Clara pulled on her cyrtel and hastily tied up the belt and neck. Kenneth had already seen her hair, so her spare wimple wasn’t necessary. She shoved back the curtain and stepped into the light of the main room. “Let me see your head.”

  “I’m fine,” he grumbled back.

  “Not according to those groans I hear. Be sensible, sir, lest you get ill from the rap on your head.”

  Kenneth wisely sat on the bench as she turned up the lamp’s wick. She also lit a rush soaked in tallow and set it on its brace for extra light. “Turn around, with your back to the light. I want to see where you hit your head.”

  Kenneth turned, though with reluctance, Clara noted. She gingerly felt his head, avoiding touching it with her sore hand. Unfortunately, he’d long discarded that absurd Norman fashion of shaving the back of his head. Right now it would have helped her see his wound better. When she pulled back her fingers, they were dry. ’Twas good. “There’s no blood, but let me bathe it. Cool water will soothe it.”

  She wet a cloth and pressed it to his head, cringing when he sucked in his breath. Then she dabbed it with soured wine and lavender to stop a bruise. “There. Do you feel better? Is there any other place that aches?”

  Without waiting for an answer, she began to squeeze his shoulders and arms gently. “I don’t feel any broken bones,” she said.

  He shrugged and shifted slightly. “Just some bruises on my elbows and shoulders.”

  “Let me dab them with the wine and lavender.” Twisting, she reached for where she’d set it. The pot felt heavy on her sore palm, but she was thankful that her wound was healing. Easing the lid off, she prepared to dip the linen into its contents.

  His hand shot out to capture her wrist. “Nay, Clara.”

  She looked into his dark eyes and fell still. Those eyes. She’d never seen any so warm, so intense. They pierced into her the way a hot coal melted through winter snow.

  As a midwife, she knew well the ways of men and women. But never, never, had a man given her such a heated look as Kenneth gave her now. Suddenly she was very aware of her proximity to him.

  ’Twas this the way men looked at women to have them turn soft and compliant? Too many wives shrugged their shoulders when Clara told them they were pregnant, most saying ’twas bound to happen.

  “Nay, mistress,” Kenneth repeated softly into her thoughts. “I will apply it myself.”

  Heat blossomed into her face. Suddenly she saw him as he really was, and the shock of that realization flooded through her.

  He was a man, fully and overwhelmingly so tonight. And the urge to flee back to her chamber where Brindi lay, probably listening in, rushed through her.

  Clara stepped back, pulling in a breath that should have restored her courage and her will, but did nothing save make a ragged, shaky noise. “I...I... Of course, sir. ’Tis only proper.”

  Her words, as stuttering and foolish as they sounded, proved to restore her good sense. She may look like a fool, or worse, a woman of whom good maids only whispered, but she was no such person. Nay, he would dab on his own lotion, as ’twas proper.

  “I will bid you good-night, then, sir. I hope the lavender helps and you sleep well. I will check your head on the morrow.”

  With a spin, she fled back to where Brindi lay. She wiped her damp hands on her cyrtel as she went, out of sight of Kenneth, though his presence lingered.

  * * *

  Kenneth was up before her the next morn. Clara hid deep within the warm bedclothes, close to her sister, trying to gather the courage to rise and break her fast with him. Surely, he would see that ’twas pointless for him to stay here? She would never reveal Rowena’s location, and beyond all that, the awkwardness last night would surely grow to burst out of this tiny hut.

  She sighed. Well, awkwardness or not, she had work to do, and she would not allow any regret, nor any attraction, to stop her. She slipped free of the covers, leaving Brindi to sleep in, and quickly prepared for her day.

  Kenneth had gathered the eggs successfully this time and was cracking three of them into a well-seasoned pan he’d set on the coals. Pierced on a stick was a large slice of yesterday’s bread. Its angle over the fire would allow a gentle toasting. Higher up, also pierced, was half a quarter of cheese. Any drippings from it would fall into the pan of eggs. The locals here called the dish poor man’s rabbit, and now the smells of such a breakfast filled her, reminding her of how hungry she was. Nearly always, her first meal was cold broth, while the noon meal was more bountiful. Clara liked it the other way around, but too often did her day start at a gallop, allowing little time for a hot meal.

  “My thanks for preparing the breakfast, sir,” she told him. “I assume you’re feeling better?”

  “Aye. That lotion eased my aches, and I think the lump on my head has gone down.” He sniffed the air. “Though I am not sure I care to smell like flowers.”

  She laughed, then abruptly cleared her throat. “Good,” she answered briskly, glad the tone of the conversation didn’t reflect the sudden awareness of last night. Brindi, obviously smelling food, appeared at the curtain and quickly dropped down onto the bench, her expression saying she fully expected to be fed.

  Kenneth grinned. “The true sign of a good meal is when it rouses a child from a comfortable bed.” He set before her a piece of the toasted bread smeared with part of the melted cheese and dropped an egg on top. Brindi dug in immediately. He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I am truly sorry about your apple. But ’twill make a good doll for you.”

  She looked up. “If it’s ugly, can I eat it?”

  “Brindi!” Clara sighed. “’Twill not be ugly. Don’t speak of a gift like that!”

  Kenneth smiled at her, his sidelong glance warm enough to hint at the heat it had carried last night. “Nay, mistress. ’Twill be quite ugly. Like an old woman.” He faced Brindi. “But such are the people that need our love the most. So promise me you won’t eat her just because she’s ugly. ’Twould set a dangerous precedence.”

  She frowned. “What’s that?”

  “What if you get old and ugly, and someone younger decides to eat you?”

  Brindi laughed, her gaze fixed on Kenneth, so forgiving for accidentally taking her apple. She was captivated by him, and it snagged in Clara’s throat. Oh, dear, ’twould do no good for the child to be taken by Kenneth’s charm. He was here only to wait for her to reveal Rowena’s location, despite all that talk of guarding her should Lord Taurin arrive. He must soon return to his duties at the keep.

  Clara cleared her throat. “Let’s break our fast. We have much to do today.”

  ’Twas the day before the Sabbath, and Clara, wi
th Brindi and Kenneth in tow, went to the keep to check on Lady Ediva and her new son. Kenneth was a bit stiff, she noted, but said nothing when she loaded him and Brindi with supplies. If she could, she’d like to slip away and visit Rowena, and returning to the hut for more supplies would arouse suspicion.

  “Why do we need to take all of this?” Brindi asked with a petulant note in her voice.

  “I may need them. So ’twill save you a trip if we simply bring them with us.”

  “We’ve never needed as many things before when we visited a new babe. Why so much?”

  Clara directed a fast glance at Kenneth, whose eyebrows shot up in curiosity. Flushing, she hurried them both out of the hut. “I won’t take a chance that Lady Ediva needs more. She had a difficult delivery.”

  Before long, Clara, with Brindi, who never tired of looking at babes, was examining the keep’s first son. Kenneth stayed out in the corridor, and Clara was glad. His mere presence kept recalling in her the closeness of last night. And she needed her concentration. It didn’t help that the room was very warm.

  “Is he well?” Lady Ediva asked from her bed. It had been several days since the heir arrived, and Clara had ordered bed rest for her for at least until the Sabbath.

  Clara smiled up at her from the cradle, where she’d unswaddled the boy to examine him. “He’s very well. Look how round and rosy he is,” she said as she scooped up the infant. Then, after reswaddling him, she brought him to his mother. At the foot of the bed, both Brindi and Lady Ediva’s maid, Margaret, beamed like proud aunts.

  “I want to check how you’re nursing,” Clara said as she set the boy down in his mother’s arms. The rest of the examination went smoothly. Her ladyship had birthed a fine young boy, and mother and son had slipped into their new routines with ease. So unlike Rowena and her son, who’d had difficulty nursing and seemed stressed and colicky. But then, everything was arranged to be easy for the keep’s mistress and her son.

  Lady Ediva had no cause to worry about where her next meal came from. Her solar could be made as toasty as she wanted it, without fear she’d be discovered. Her babe slept in a cradle of the best quality, while Rowena needed to keep her child close for warmth.

  Tears sprang unbidden to Clara’s eyes. As much as she had encouraged Rowena to eat and have a fire to keep her and her babe warm and their strength up, Clara knew ’twas fear that had slowed Rowena’s nursing abilities and prevented her from taking comfort in luxuries such as a fire. That and the damp, moss-covered hut in the middle of nowhere.

  “He looks so much like his father, don’t you think?” Lady Ediva said with pride in her voice.

  Clara swallowed and drew her thoughts back to her lady. “Aye.”

  A maid chose that moment to arrive with hot broth and sweet biscuits and good strong cheese, as per Clara’s orders. There were even two extra cups for both Clara and Brindi to share in the light meal. Clara spied Kenneth standing in the corridor and quickly looked away.

  Beside her, Brindi sniffed the air long and appreciatively. Lady Ediva laughed as she gingerly climbed out of bed and set her babe in his cradle. “If I may sit at my own table, I want you both to join me in this meal. Brindi, I hear you have only just arrived. Are you glad to be with your sister?”

  “Aye, milady. I came when Lord Eudo found out I was there by myself. M’maw had sent me back to Colchester, but I arrived after the guild masters ordered Clara to leave because she was causing trouble.”

  Clara groaned inwardly. Children had no compunction for stating what was on their minds. “’Twas not quite like that, milady. Aye, I was ordered here. I sent Brindi home to our mother, but M’maw is too old, so she sent her back. When Brindi was discovered living alone in my former cottage, Lord Eudo had her brought here.”

  Lady Ediva eased into her chair at the table, her expression chiding. “Nay, I heard the whole story. Last night, Lord Adrien told me about the letter his brother sent. The townsfolk were worried that Lord Taurin would cause trouble, not you.”

  “’Tis one and the same, I fear.” Clara stared at the fine food before her. She was unaccustomed to such a fine repast midmorning, and the world around her suddenly began to swim in unshed tears.

  A small warm hand reached over and covered hers and she looked up through unshed tears to see Lady Ediva’s sympathetic expression. “Lord Adrien will keep you safe. And he would do the same for the woman you hide.”

  Clara shot up her head. “Nay! Lord Adrien believes the child would be better off in his father’s house!” She shook her head vigorously. “But I cannot agree, milady. I’m so sorry, but ’tis wrong to snatch a babe from its mother’s arms.”

  Ediva frowned. Clara watched her lady’s gaze dance between her and Brindi, whose own eyes were more focused on the meal in front of them.

  “I don’t know what to say,” Ediva began haltingly. “I understand your feelings, but Adrien says your friend’s babe will not survive for long hidden in the woods.” Abruptly, Lady Ediva’s hand shot across the table away from Clara. She plunked a sweet biscuit and a piece of cheese in front of Brindi and bundled the rest of the food up in the large napkin Margaret had spread out. The only thing she kept out was the small tureen of broth.

  “A flask, Margaret, one that seals,” she ordered. Margaret quickly retrieved one from a small chest behind the table. Understanding her mistress’s wishes, she filled the flask with steaming broth and sealed it tight.

  Ediva shoved the bundle at Brindi, and the flask to Clara. “Loosen your belt and hide this on your person to keep prying eyes away. Your body heat will keep the broth warm. No doubt you will visit the woman soon, so take these things to her. If you hide them well, none will suspect that you carry them. I know Lord Adrien would not begrudge the woman nourishment, but I fear that Lord Taurin’s influence might reach into our keep.”

  “Nay! Your soldiers are loyal, are they not?”

  Ediva shook her head. “We’ve just received several new soldiers from London, as the king is concerned that Hereward the Wake has settled in just north of here in Ely. ’Tis possible that one of them has been placed here by Taurin himself, for I hear he is as deceptive as he is calculating.”

  Clara’s blood ran cold. Taurin’s men, here in Dunmow? She swallowed hard. And with Kenneth outside, waiting for her to finish her examination, she would find it very difficult to slip out of the village. But she may be able...

  Lady Ediva carried on. “I will speak with my husband. I cannot promise anything more, but I understand your plight. ’Tis all I will say.”

  The sound of Brindi biting into a sweet biscuit drew Clara away from her planning. She stood and bowed to Lady Ediva before shoving the flask under her chemise. Margaret, always the good lady’s maid, helped her secure the warm bottle so ’twouldn’t slip out. The bundle of food went into her deep basket of herbs. “Brindi, you carry this basket,” Clara said softly, “but keep eating a biscuit in case one of the soldiers smells the others you have and believes you’re stealing them.”

  She turned to Lady Ediva. “I know ’tis wrong to set you against your husband on this matter, but my heart twists to think of Rowena’s suffering.”

  Ediva shook her head. “You won’t be setting me against my husband. I can open my heart to him anytime and he understands it. He also allows me the right to run my keep as I have for years. It often included alms and foodstuffs for the poor. Adrien understands and encourages that.”

  Clara bit her lip and she listened to Ediva’s voice soften and her expression ease into love at the mention of her husband’s name. Oh, to have such love and intimacy in a marriage! She knew so few people whose marriages were not to align families and what small plots of land King William allowed the Saxons to own. Even the poorest of the poor had to obtain the lord’s permission to marry, and the unions were oft to secure some form of property.

  She looked at Ediva. The lady of the keep was blessed, indeed, to have found such love and have it returned. The mere thought caught in Clara
’s throat.

  “I will return after the Sabbath to check on you. Keep drinking all the broth you can, and get your rest. Remember, milady, never lift anything more than your babe.” Clara curtsied again and hurriedly took her leave, throwing open the door and thrusting into Kenneth’s arms the bundle of cloths that held jars of salve she’d known she wouldn’t need. “We have other babes to visit, and the landowner’s wife at the north edge of the village has a rash. Come, we have lots of work to do.” With that, she strode past him and down the corridor.

  All the way through the bailey to the gate, with Brindi close on her heels eating the pastry and Kenneth striding at her side, Clara fought back tears. Seeing Lady Ediva healthy and strong, her babe eating well and as robust as a newborn could be, was all too much for her. Rowena’s babe suffered, where Ediva’s did not.

  Her throat hurt. Was it right for her to risk the lives of Rowena and her child because of her pledge to keep them from Lord Taurin? Wasn’t she supposed to help people get better?

  Was it possible to do both?

  She slipped a sidelong glance at Kenneth as he strode so very close to her. Was it possible for her to slip past him and deliver this food before the biscuits turned to crumbs and the cheese molded?

  Mayhap not possible at all.

  She bit back a sob.

  Chapter Nine

  In front of Brindi, Clara pressed her forefinger to her lips, then eased the girl backward through the thatched roof to the outside.

  When she’d first arrived here, she’d discovered that the thatch on the front of the hut was not secured to the lowest rafter, and several bundles could be lifted together, revealing a hole two hand lengths high.

  Listening carefully to her sister’s soft step onto the bench outside, Clara then hiked up her cyrtel and swung herself up and slid through. She soon found the bench with her feet.

  ’Twas after evening services and she had told Kenneth that both she and Brindi were exhausted from the day of checking out all the babes in the village. Only after she’d heard Kenneth retire for the night did Clara make her move. Feeling again to make sure the flask of broth was still secure at her side, she took up the bundle of foodstuffs in one hand, Brindi’s small palm in the other, and began to hurry around the back of her hut.