Chapter Eight
Eiselle hadn’t seen her cousin, Dashiell, in at least four years.
She was very fond of him because he’d always been very kind to her, so the moment Keeva admitted Bric and Dashiell into the enormous master’s chamber where Eiselle was sitting by the window, measuring out a pattern on the fabric Keeva had given her, Eiselle jumped to her feet and ran at her cousin, who caught her up in a warm embrace.
“Selly,” Dashiell said as he gave her a squeeze. “I did not even know you were at Narborough, yet I hear you are a married woman now. My heartiest congratulations.”
Eiselle was thrilled to see her older cousin.
“Bric and I were married yesterday,” she said.
Then, she threw her arms around his neck again and squeezed him as if to choke him.
“It is so good to see you. Father told me that you were married last year and I want to hear all about it. You must tell me everything!”
Dashiell smiled warmly at her. “All I can tell you is that I am as happy as you appear to be,” he said. “I married Edward de Vaston’s youngest daughter, Belladonna.”
Eiselle’s brow furrowed curiously. “De Vaston,” she repeated. “The Duke of Savernake, is he not?”
Dashiell nodded. “He was,” he said. “He died last year. Bric knows this. He was there, in fact, when the duke passed away. I married the duke’s youngest daughter and she is pregnant with our first child, so I am eager to return to Ramsbury Castle.”
Eiselle put her hand on his arm. “I am so happy for you, truly,” she said. “You deserve all the happiness in the world, Dash.”
He smiled at her. “As do you,” he said. Then, he eyed Bric, who had so far been standing aside as the cousins greeted one another. “I am told that marriage agrees with you both.”
Eiselle looked at Bric and she flushed a deep red. “Although I cannot speak for my husband, I find it most agreeable.”
Now that the attention had shifted to Bric, he found that he only had eyes for his wife.
“It is,” he said the words she wanted to hear.
But then he looked at Dashiell. “We have been married less than a day. What more do you need to hear? I married the woman of your choice and I am not displeased by it.”
Dashiell shook his head. “That is truly something I never thought to hear,” he said. “I am still astonished.”
“Don’t be.”
Dashiell’s amused gaze lingered on him a moment before returning his focus to Eiselle again. “You would not know this, but you are my gift to Bric.”
Eiselle looked between the men, curiously. “A gift?”
Dashiell nodded. “He saved my life last year,” he said. “Had it not been for Bric, I would not be standing here at this moment. I, therefore, gave him the most precious and honorable gift I could think of – you. Treat him well, Selly. He is greater than you know.”
Eiselle looked at Bric, appreciation in her eyes. Clearly, she already had a great deal of admiration for the man. Dashiell could see that plainly.
“I am hoping to discover all about him on my own,” she said. “We have the rest of our lives, after all. There is no hurry.”
As Eiselle looked at him rather dreamily, and Dashiell looked at him rather knowingly, Bric was rather embarrassed by all of the sentiment going around.
Touched, but embarrassed. He was greatly warmed by the look in Eiselle’s eyes, a look that made his heart flutter as if he were a foolish squire.
In truth, he didn’t care. He liked it. But he was far too uncomfortable with the situation to say anything remotely flattering or kind to her, especially in front of Dashiell.
He was still new to all of this, after all, and he’d had absolutely no practice when it came to an intimate relationship with a woman.
Therefore, for lack of a response, he simply forced a somewhat neutral smile at Eiselle before turning to Dashiell.
“Speaking of hurry,” he said, “I must see to the preparation for the army. My wife will see to your food and drink. I will be in the bailey when you are finished.”
His departure was swift, leaving Eiselle watching him go and feeling somewhat confused by his reaction.
It was the first time she’d seen him since their wedding night and it seemed to her that his reaction the morning after was mixed.
He’d told Dashiell he was pleased, yet he’d just fled the room as if he were eager to get away from her.
Trying not to appear too sad about it, she looked at Dashiell.
“What does he mean by preparing the army?” she asked. “Is the army leaving?”
Dashiell nodded. “It will be soon,” he told her. “There is a potential problem, but nothing to worry over.”
“What kind of a problem?”
“Remnants of John’s French army.”
“And you will fight them? I mean, Bric will fight them?”
“If it comes to that.”
She eyed him doubtfully. “I am not sure I like this.”
Dashiell put his big arm around her shoulders, pulling her towards the great double doors that led into the hall beyond.
“Selly, you are married to a knight now,” he said patiently.
“But not just any knight; you are married to de Winter’s High Warrior.
He is the greatest knight in the realm. You are going to have to become accustomed to the man going to war.
It is part of his life and he will not stop it because of you. ”
Fundamentally, Eiselle knew that, but she still didn’t like it. Such a thing didn’t matter to her before she’d met Bric, but now that she was coming to know him, the thought of the man in danger had her nervous stomach twitching again.
“I do not expect him to stop,” she said. “But… this is something I have never been part of before. I cannot help if I worry.”
Dashiell knew that. “My wife is the same way,” he said.
“She does not like it when I go off to battle, but that is my vocation, too. That is the same life you are to lead now – your husband will go to war and you will patiently wait for him to return. Just know that Bric MacRohan is no ordinary knight; there is a magic about him that most warriors do not have.”
They paused as they entered the hall. Eiselle was looking up at Dashiell quite seriously.
“I do not care what magic he has, as long as he returns home,” she said quietly.
“I cannot explain it, Dash, but I have quickly come to like Bric. He is kind and he is patient. In truth, I was terribly nervous when I first came to Narborough. But he put me at ease from the first and that has not changed. I would be devastated if this brief marriage was cut short.”
Dashiell grinned, tapping her gently on the cheek.
“I would not worry about that if I were you,” he said.
“Bric MacRohan is like those ancient Irish warriors of legend – there is something immortal about him. He will always return to you, of that I am certain. Now, not to change the subject too drastically, but I could use some food and drink before I depart with the de Winter army. Will you provide me with sustenance, Lady MacRohan?”
Eiselle smiled broadly. “It will be my pleasure, my lord.”
Seated at the table and listening to the priest as he continued to sleep off his drinking binge next to the hearth, Dashiell delved into the cold beef and cheese and bread that a kitchen servant had provided.
Eiselle sat with him and they spoke of Dashiell’s new wife and of the new position as duke.
He had assumed the title late last year.
Dashiell was very happy with his life, and Eiselle couldn’t remember ever seeing the man so joyful or relaxed.
That joy translated into a man who wasn’t afraid to show the side of him most people didn’t see; the comical side of his personality.
He took to throwing bread crusts at the dogs sleeping on the floor, luring them over to the priest who was snoring loudly enough to rattle teeth.
The bread crusts would land on the priest and the dogs would lick and bite the man trying to get at the food.
The priest would snort in his sleep, batting at the dogs and calling them Satan’s children, and Eiselle giggled uncontrollably.
It was great fun, all at the expense of the sleeping priest.
That went on for nearly the duration of the meal, until Dashiell was finally satisfied. Then, their time together was over and Eiselle was sorry to see him go. Dashiell kissed his cousin on the head as he excused himself and headed out to the bailey where men were preparing for war.
Although he’d told Eiselle not to worry, it was inevitable that she did.
This was all so new to her, now with her husband heading off to war again.
Dashiell told her that she must learn to be brave, but she honestly wasn’t sure she could.
Still, she didn’t want Bric to think she was weak, so whatever she felt, she vowed to keep it to herself. Or, at least try to keep it to herself.
But it wasn’t going to be easy.
Leaving the priest still snoring away and the table being cleared of the remnants of Dashiell’s meal, Eiselle returned to the master’s chamber to continue sewing on Keeva’s garment.
Keeva wasn’t anywhere to be found in the chamber as Eiselle resumed her position over near the windows. The fabric was laid out on top of a coverlet to keep it clean, as it was a deep brownish-red wool, something quite elegant.
Eiselle had been sewing from a young age, so she knew how to create a dress.
It was one of the few things her mother had taught her, and she was very good at it.
In order to start the pattern for the dress, she’d had Keeva lay on the fabric and then she’d taken chalk to outline the woman’s frame.
From that, she carefully drew out the drape and basic dimension of the dress.
Eiselle had a sewing kit in her trunks, but she was using Keeva’s, and using long, slender iron pins to frame the shape of what she wanted to cut. The cutting would come later with a very sharp knife that was made to cut fabric.