Chapter Four #2
“Well?” Daveigh demanded. “What happened?”
Bric pulled his war horse to a halt, climbing off the beast and handing him over to a waiting stable groom, the only man that the horse wouldn’t snap at.
Liath was the horse’s name, a massive dappled-gray horse with a nasty temper, but in battle he was invaluable.
He could anticipate Bric, so it was like having a shadow.
He adored the animal and the feeling was mutual, but it was only Bric that the beast adored.
Anyone else was a potential victim.
“To be truthful, I am not entirely convinced it was Nottingham,” Bric said as he pulled off his helm, wiping a weary hand across his forehead. “Rather than engage us, they tried to evade us, so there was more chasing going on than combat. They headed west and we let them go.”
“What about the town?”
“The damage wasn’t too severe. It seems they were only interested in stealing supplies.”
Daveigh frowned. “Foraging,” he muttered. “Peterborough is to the west.”
Bric nodded. “I know,” he said. “John’s mercenaries held the city up until a few months ago, but it is possible there are still pockets throughout the area.”
“Is that what you believe? These are simply vagrant mercenaries?”
Bric shrugged. “It is as possible as anything else,” he said. Then, he looked around the outer bailey and at the massive walls, lit up against the night with fatted torches that billowed black smoke into the sky. “We were not attacked here?”
Daveigh shook his head. “Nay,” he replied. “All has been quiet.”
Bric pondered that. He’d suspected the attack on the village had been a ruse, as they all had, and was both puzzled and pleased to realize it wasn’t. But he wasn’t going to ponder it further. He was exhausted, but there was more on his mind than simply sleep.
There was the matter of a certain young woman he’d left behind.
His focus turned towards the inner ward and the keep.
“I saw the priest arrive when I was departing,” he said. “I suppose Lady de Winter is furious that the wedding did not take place tonight.”
Daveigh looked towards the keep as well. “I do not know,” he said. “I have not seen her since you left, but I am sure she is waiting up for me.”
“And me.”
Daveigh grinned. “She will berate me for letting you ride to battle and avoid the ceremony before she will unleash her anger on you,” he said. “If I were you, I would retreat to my chamber and bolt the door. Do not come out until morning, no matter how much she bangs on your door and bellows.”
Bric was still looking at the keep. He was thinking on retiring, but not to his chamber.
The entire time he’d been away, his thoughts had intermittently lingered on the lovely young woman with the pale green eyes.
Was he disappointed he hadn’t married the woman that night?
In truth, he was, just a little. Other than the initial conversation they’d had, he hadn’t really had the opportunity to come to know her.
Even so, he couldn’t seem to get her out of his mind.
So rather than retire to his chamber for the night, he wanted to seek her out and talk to her.
He knew it was late, but he didn’t much care.
Bric MacRohan rarely thought of anyone else’s wants, comforts, or desires other than his own.
If the woman was asleep, then he would wake her.
He was fearful that if he didn’t take the time to speak with her, alone, then he might not have another chance in the near future because Keeva and Daveigh seemed to want to be present whenever he was around her.
Therefore, he didn’t let Daveigh know what he was thinking. He simply nodded his head.
“Mayhap I shall,” he said. “Where is the priest, by the way?”
“I am not entirely sure. I have not seen him come out of the keep, so it is possible he is still in the hall.”
“And my intended?”
Daveigh gestured towards the keep. “I am sure that Keeva put her on the high floor, where we put our honored guests. I am sure she has been long asleep by now.” He paused. “Bric?”
“My lord?”
Daveigh scratched at his ear, a reluctant gesture. “I hesitate to ask you this, but what do you think of her?”
Bric could see that Daveigh was living in fear of his answer. True to form, he was guarded. “She is pretty enough.”
“Quite. I’d say she’s damned beautiful.”
“I would agree with that.”
“Then… you are pleased with her?”
Was he? Bric’s first reaction was to the affirmative. Aye, he was pleased with her. But he wasn’t going to tell Daveigh that. He was too embarrassed to admit it, or anything like it. Instead, he forced a smile.
“Ask me that in a week,” he said, turning for the keep. “I will see you on the morrow.”
Quickly, he moved across the vast outer bailey of Narborough before Daveigh could stop him, heading through the maze of earthwork and into the inner ward where the keep was situated.
Before him, the imposing structure of Narborough’s keep loomed against the night sky, and he entered the forebuilding, dimly lit by torches, and made his way up the stone steps into the entry.
It was deathly still in the keep when he entered, and very nearly pitch-dark.
But he could see faint light coming from the great hall and as he moved through the darkness and into the cavernous room, he was immediately met with snoring.
As he eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see the priest at the far end of the room, sleeping on a bench before the gently snapping fire.
There were a few others in the great hall, kitchen servants mostly, all of them sleeping near the fire in a group with the dogs nearby, all of them huddling up for warmth.
It wasn’t unusual for the kitchen and keep servants to sleep in the great hall even though there was another open space on the top floor the servants used as well.
In fact, the top floor was really only for sleeping and guest lodging, as it had four rooms that were used for visitors.
It was where Daveigh had indicated Eiselle was being housed, so Bric took one of the smoking torches from the iron sconce near the entry and headed for the spiral stairs that led to the upper floor.
The one good thing about the location of the visitors’ chambers was that they were well away from the master’s chamber where Keeva was sleeping.
The master’s chamber was on the other side of the great hall, sealed off by two sets of massive doors.
It was well protected and well-insulated from the noise of the rest of the keep, and Bric was counting on that.
He didn’t want Keeva to come running up to Lady Eiselle’s chamber and chase him off.
The smell near the top of the stairs told him he had entered the large open area where the servants slept.
It smelled like a barnyard with piss buckets in the corner and old straw on the floor.
Bric made his way through the snoring servants silently, going to the first door he came to and lifting the latch, only to be faced with an empty chamber.
There was a small corridor to his left and he proceeded to open two more chambers, met with the same inky darkness.
But lifting the latch of the forth chamber saw that it was unlocked, and he opened it slightly to reveal a warm room, a fire burning in the hearth, and neatly stacked trunks against the far wall.
He couldn’t quite see the bed with the door cracked open and, in truth, he didn’t want to be completely invasive, so he shut the door softly as if he’d never opened it to begin with.
Quietly, he rapped.
He rapped twice more before he received a response, a soft voice whose words were muddled by the heavy door. Assuming she had asked who had come, he tried not to speak too loudly for fear of rousing the servants.
“It is Bric, my lady,” he said.
He must have spoken the magic words because the latch lifted and the door cracked open. Looking sleepy, and with her dark hair mussed, Eiselle stood in the doorway, wrapped up in a heavy robe. Her expression was one of both surprise and curiosity.
“Sir Bric,” she said, sounding anxious. “Is everything well?”
He nodded, realizing that even sleeping and unkempt, she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Probably more so in her mussed state because he found something unerringly charming about it.
“Everything is fine,” he said quietly. “I came to make sure you were well-tended after your busy day.”
Eiselle nodded. “I am quite well, thank you,” she said. “And you? Are you well after riding out to fight off the raiders?”
“There was no fight. It was a waste of time.” When she simply stood there, gazing up at him, he thought to press his intention before the situation turned awkward.
“I realize it is late, but we have had so little time to speak since your arrival. So if you are agreeable, I thought to only take a few moments of your time.”
Eiselle appeared uncertain at first but, after a moment, she stepped back and opened the door wider. “Would you like to come in where it is warmer?”
Considering they were betrothed, it wasn’t an improper offer, to seek solitude in the lady’s boudoir. Bric took the torch and lodged it into the nearest sconce, lighting up the dim corridor, before entering her chamber. Eiselle shut the door quietly behind him.
“I apologize that I missed the evening meal, but it could not be helped,” he said. “I trust the meal was pleasant.”
Eiselle nodded, somewhat nervous about his presence. She kept a proper distance. “It was very pleasant,” she said. But when that wasn’t enough, she added, “Lady de Winter introduced me to Lady de Dere and Lady de Chevington.”
“And the priest?”
She appeared hesitant. “Of that, I would not know,” she said. “He kept to himself throughout the meal. I… I have never seen one man eat so much.”
Bric grunted unhappily. “I would have at least hoped he would speak of plans for our marriage tomorrow,” he said. “Did Lady de Winter speak of any such plans?”