Chapter Eight #2
As she pinned, Eiselle could hear the noise from the outer bailey, and more than once she was drawn to the long, very tall lancet windows that faced the west side of the castle. She kept hoping for a glimpse of Bric, but, alas, that was not meant to be. She never saw him, not once.
Saddened, she returned to her sewing and forced herself to focus, losing herself in her project as a way of forgetting about what was to come.
This morning when she’d asked Keeva for tasks, it had been because she’d felt happy and energetic, thrilled to be living her first day as Lady MacRohan, but now the task was a way of escaping the reality that her new husband was going off to battle again.
The raid two days before and now this… truly, she wasn’t sure this was something she could become used to, but better to suffer through it than not be married to Bric at all.
He was worth the anxiety.
The morning dragged on and Keeva finally returned to the chamber to check on the progress of her dress. She’d been spending her time on the inner wall with her husband, who was watching Bric and the knights assemble an army of over a thousand men, wagons, and animals.
Whenever de Winter mobilized, it was always something impressive to behold.
Keeva spoke of the times past when the army would mobilize and move out, sometimes for months on end, which brought a bit of a concerned expression from Eiselle.
When Keeva realized that she’d frightened the woman, she made every effort to backtrack on her prattle and try not to make it seem as bad as it was.
But the damage had been done.
Was it possible the army would really be gone for months?
Eiselle thought gloomily. She was to marry a man and only know him two days before he left for months?
It was distressing news, and something she struggled against even as Keeva tried to make it seem that all was not as bad as she’d made it sound.
But Eiselle knew better; she knew her husband was leaving and there was nothing Keeva could say to cheer her up.
But she soldiered through the day, working on the dress, something that Keeva praised quite a bit as the hours passed.
Eiselle had an eye for a good pattern, and a fashionable dress, and Keeva was thrilled to discover it.
It was the years of working in her father’s stall that had given Eiselle that eye.
She knew what women were wearing and what looked good.
Towards late afternoon, after Eiselle had cut out the dress and was now loosely basting it onto Keeva, Bric abruptly appeared in the master chamber’s doorway. When Eiselle caught sight of him, she was so startled that she rammed an iron pin right into Keeva’s rump. The woman yelped.
“Oh, my lady!” Eiselle gasped. “I am so terribly sorry! How clumsy of me!”
Keeva rubbed her bum where Eiselle stabbed her. “Not to worry, lass,” she said, a grin on her face as she looked at Bric. “I see that your mind was not on your work. Bric, this is your fault.”
Bric smiled weakly. “I do apologize,” he said, but his attention was on Eiselle. “I was wondering if I might borrow Lady MacRohan for a short while.”
Keeva didn’t have time to reply before Eiselle was rushing in his direction. Seeing this, Keeva simply laughed.
“Go,” she waved them off.
Leaving Keeva with the half-basted dress still draped on her body, Eiselle rushed to Bric’s side. He wasn’t dressed for battle, but simply in a heavy tunic and leather breeches. Eiselle noticed almost immediately that he was wearing the belt she had given him.
“It looks as if my belt fits you,” she said.
Bric smiled as he looked down at it, fingering the fabric. “I will never take it off,” he told her. Then, he took her by the elbow. “Come with me a moment. I have need of you.”
Eiselle went willingly as he took her into the hall where some men were sitting around, eating cold beef and drinking ale.
The evening meal was still several hours off, but the servants were stoking the hearth in the hall, building it up into a raging blaze as Bric took Eiselle to one of the long, scrubbed tables and sat her down.
He then sent a servant for food and drink as he sat down next to her.
“I do not have much time, but I wanted to see you before I leave,” he said quietly.
“To war?”
He nodded. “Dash said he told you.”
“He also told me that I must not worry.”
Bric lifted his big shoulders. “I cannot tell you how to feel, as I have never had to face this kind of thing before,” he said. “Keeva always worries for Daveigh, and I have seen other women throw fits when their men head off to battle. I suppose it is a woman’s nature to worry.”
Eiselle watched his mouth as he spoke, those full and soft lips that had made her feel so wicked and wanton.
“How would you have me behave, Bric?” she asked softly. “Tell me and I shall do it.”
Bric looked at her, feeling those same giddy feelings sweep over him at the mere sight of her.
She was so sweet and lovely, and he genuinely didn’t want to leave her, which was something of a new sensation for him.
He’d spent the past eight hours preparing the army to depart and, all the while, his mind had been lingering on Eiselle and feeling so very regretful that he was going to leave her.
After a moment, he simply shook his head.
“I do not know,” he said truthfully. “I have never left anyone behind before, so I do not know. All I know is that for the first time in my life, I would rather stay here than leave to battle. We are only just coming to know each other and I was looking forward to the days to come. Believe me when I say that I am sorry to leave you here.”
Eiselle’s smile turned warm, genuine. “And I am sorry you are going,” she said.
“I feel the same way. I would much rather have you remain here with me, where we can feast tonight and speak on foolish things or important things. We can speak on whatever we feel like. But instead, you are departing with your army and I feel… sad. I will admit that I am sad you are leaving.”
His gaze was warm upon her. “Good,” he said. “I am glad you are sad. That means… well, I am not sure what it means, but I know that I like it. I suppose it means that you are thinking of me.”
Eiselle was bold; she reached out and took one of his hands, holding it tightly. He responded by squeezing so hard that he nearly broke her fingers.
“Aye, I am,” she said quietly. “I suspect I will always think of you, no matter what. And since you cannot tell me how I should feel, I will be honest and tell you that I am not only sad, but I am afraid for you. I have never known someone I care about leaving for battle.”
His smile faded. “Do you?” he asked, shocked. “Care for me, I mean. Do… do you really care for me?”
She nodded, averting her gaze rather bashfully. “You have been kind and understanding and compassionate since I have known you,” she said. “How could I not care?”
That was more than Bric expected to hear from her, but he was delighted to the bone.
As he sat there and held her hand, he reached into the neck of his tunic and pulled forth a chain looped around his neck that had something affixed to the end of it.
He held it up to Eiselle, catching the light of the torches that were now being brought into the hall by servants, illuminating the darkness.
“See this?” he asked. “I have worn this since I was a youth. My former master gave it to me, an Irish warrior who fought well into his seventh decade. His name was Conor and he had no sons, so he gave this to me when I was knighted. Conor told me that this talisman had been passed down through the men in his family and that it had been blessed by St. Patrick himself.”
Eiselle was very curious about the talisman; made from steel and in the shape of a cross, it contained Latin words etched into the metal. She ran her fingers along the letters, barely making them out.
A maiorem caritatum nemo habet.
“What do these words mean?” she asked. “I cannot see them very well.”
He watched her face as she inspected the pendant. “A man hath no greater love than he lay down his life for his friends,” he said. “’Tis from the bible.”
She nodded in understanding. “I think I have heard the verse before,” she said. “And this brings you good fortune on the battlefield?”
“Aye,” he said. “This talisman has protected generations of warriors from death, and it will protect me, so you needn’t worry. This will keep me safe.”
Eiselle turned it over, inspecting it, before looking up and meeting his eye. “I thought only the superstitious wore talismans.”
Bric tried to look serious, but he couldn’t quite keep the smile from his lips.
“I am from Ireland, Lady MacRohan,” he said.
“I have seen many strange things, many things that you would not believe. There are evil spirits in this world, and there are little folk who live beneath the hills. I have personally seen a troll, but that was when I was young. I ran from it when I should have run to it and challenged it. You must not scoff at superstition, my lady. It may be more powerful than you know.”
Eiselle didn’t believe in any of that, frankly, and she wasn’t sure how to tell him.
“My parents were people of logic,” she said hesitantly.
“I can only remember going to church a scant few times as a child because my father believed in reason over religion or superstition. His only friend was an alchemist, and he told my father that everything has an explanation. He says there is no magic in the world.”
Bric was rather pleased to hear that she was reasonable about life.
He’d seen far too many women fall victim to the hysteria of religion and, truth be told, he wasn’t particularly religious himself.
But he did believe in luck and good fortune, and he believed implicitly in the power of his mighty talisman.
“I suppose our beliefs are our own magic,” he said. “I do believe this talisman has power, and I believe the words inscribed on it. I believe it every time I go into battle and it has not failed me yet.”
“Then you should believe it. You should believe it with all your heart.”
“I do. And I want you to, also.”
“I will. If you wish it, I will believe it without question.”
With a smile on his face, he just sat there and gazed at her.
She was such a beautiful creature that he couldn’t seem to stop staring at her.
But he could still see that she was worried, facing something she had never faced before.
Battle was frightening for those who were unaccustomed to it.
The longer he looked at her, the more he felt an odd tugging to his heart, a sadness he’d never known before.
It took him a moment to realize that, perhaps, he was feeling longing for Eiselle.
He missed her already.
Reaching into his tunic, he pulled the talisman over his head and put it in her hands.
“Here,” he said. “I want you to keep this for me. It has brought me fortune and comfort these many years, and now I want it to bring comfort to you.”
Eiselle looked at the heavy talisman in her hand. “But,” she stammered, “… but this is yours, Bric. You said yourself that you have taken it into every battle and it has never failed you. How can you even think to go into a fight without it?”
His gaze was warm. “Because my faith is in my abilities and my skill,” he said. “The fortune my talisman has brought me, even if it is not with me, still lingers. You will keep it safe for me and in doing so, you can ensure my return. I will come back for it… and you.”
Eiselle wasn’t so sure she should keep his good luck charm. “But it will do more good if you take it into battle, as always. Please, Bric.”
He shook his head. “The good it will do me is in knowing you are comforted by keeping it. This is your first battle, after all. You will need the comfort only the talisman can bring.”
She smiled wanly. “It is my first battle, but I was not going to become hysterical about it, I promise.”
He grinned. “I know. But I think my talisman will do more good with you, since this is your very first.” Then, he took her hands into his big mitts, kissing them sweetly. “I will return. Do you believe me?”
Eiselle was caught up in the expression on his face, how those piercing eyes seemed to reach out and grab her. And the kisses to her hand… she could hardly breathe because of them.
“I do,” she murmured.
“Good.”
A servant suddenly appeared bearing food, and Bric didn’t say anything more.
He’d said all he needed to say, and he felt a good deal of comfort in leaving his beloved talisman with his new wife to ease her anxiety, so he let go of Eiselle’s hands and he focused on his meal.
More people were wandering into the hall, men who would soon be departing and looking for sustenance, so Bric’s line of conversation from that point forward was about things that were trivial and had nothing to do with the fact that he felt sad at the thought of leaving his new bride.
This woman he never wanted to marry suddenly had him feeling things he’d never felt before.
It was both thrilling and confusing.
He suspected that warfare, from this point on, would not be the same for him.
Now, he had a wife to think of, and leaving his talisman with her was his first indication that, perhaps, she meant something more to him than he could begin to comprehend.
It was madness, truly, to suspect deep feelings after only a few days, but there was no denying that there was a connection between them, something that went beyond anything he’d ever known before.
Leaving his talisman with her was the first indication of that.
Already, he couldn’t wait to return to her.