Chapter Fourteen
The multitude of torches that lit up the night sky was an eerie sight. There was something uneasy about the brilliant fire that fought off the night, a night so black that it was as if looking into the face of Satan.
At least, that’s what Eiselle thought as she stood at the gatehouse leading from the inner bailey into the outer bailey, watching the army as it prepared to move out.
There was something uneasy about this entire night.
Earlier, she’d been sewing on one of Bric’s tunics in their chamber when Keeva had come to tell her about the call for help from Castle Acre, sixteen miles to the east. It belonged to the powerful Earls of Surrey, the de Warenne family, and it was a mighty and strategic castle with property that butted up against the de Winter lands.
De Winter and de Warenne were close allies, so there was never any question about answering the summons.
De Winter would answer the call.
At first, Eiselle had been understandably concerned for Bric.
After what had happened earlier that day, she was worried that he was heading into battle and wasn’t yet ready for such a thing.
But she didn’t share that concern with Keeva, instead keeping it to herself, and following an afternoon of sewing on her husband’s tunics, she could no longer keep her focus.
As night fell, she wandered out of the keep and right to the mouth of the outer bailey, watching the activity and hoping for a glimpse of her husband.
Everything seemed business as usual. She remembered how the army was methodically mustered from the first time she had witnessed it, when they were departing for Holdingham.
Wagons were brought out, horses were groomed and saddled, and the quartermasters were thorough in the supplies they brought with them.
Everything was moving smoothly and, in the middle of it, she could hear Bric’s voice, bellowing to the men, as Mylo and Pearce made sure the new recruits were properly outfitted for the coming battle march.
As she caught a sighting of Bric now and again as he moved in and out of the herd of men, she could also see Manducor out in the organized chaos. He seemed to be helping, too, mostly with the infantry, and Eiselle was coming to think that the man might never return to his church.
The drunk, smelly priest had transformed over the past several weeks; he didn’t drink as much, although he still ate to excess and farted when he pleased, and he spent more time with Weetley, the surgeon, helping the man with his patients, and generally finding other things to do.
Whether or not he’d been invited to stay, he was finding a place for himself at Narborough.
It seemed to Eiselle that the man had reclaimed something in himself – perhaps it was self-worth, or a sense of purpose.
It was difficult to know. All she knew was that Daveigh permitted him to stay as long as he made himself useful.
Perhaps he simply felt more at home at Narborough than he did serving his parish.
Whatever the reason, Manducor was starting to become a fixture at Narborough and Eiselle wasn’t displeased.
He had a wisdom about him that she found comforting.
Oddly enough, the man was coming to be something of a friend.
So, Eiselle stood and watched as the men went about their duties, feeling the chill as the night began to deepen. As she stood there and watched, she began to hear voices behind her and turned to the keep in time to see Mylo emerge from the entry with Angela in tow, carrying a wailing Edward.
“But he just wants to be with you!” Angela was saying as she virtually ran after her husband. “He wants to see the soldiers and the army. If he is to be a knight like his father, what is the harm of you taking him with you as you go about your duties?”
Mylo was beyond frustrated. He came to a halt and turned to his wife.
“I have explained this to you several times, so I will do it once more and let this be the end of it,” he said.
“It is too dangerous for him out there with the army and I do not have time to watch him. Moreover, it is late and he should be in bed.”
Angela frowned. “I think you are being very cruel to your son.”
Mylo had no patience for her. “He is too young, Angela. When he is older, mayhap I will take him with me, but right now, he is far too young. He would want to get down and run, and if he does that, he will be killed. Someone will run him over and it would be all your fault.”
Angela gasped, offended by his words. Although Eiselle was genuinely not trying to listen to their argument, it was difficult because they were standing so close to her.
When Angela realized Eiselle was listening, she quickly turned back for the keep with the crying baby in her arms. As she ran off, Mylo resumed his walk towards the outer bailey and caught sight of Eiselle as he did so. He smiled weakly.
“She wants me to take the baby with me,” he said. “It is not safe.”
Eiselle nodded. “I agree with you,” she said. “But when he is older, then you must take him with you so that he may learn from you.”
Mylo shrugged. “I hope he will outgrow this screaming he does,” he said. “I hope I can undo the damage that his mother has done.”
Eiselle smiled. “He is young, still. I am sure he will outgrow his tantrums.”
Mylo gave her a nod that suggested it might be possible. “Mayhap,” he said. “Now, if you will excuse me, Lady MacRohan, I have duties to attend to or your husband will have my hide.”
Eiselle waved him off, watching him head out into the group of men who were now starting to form loose ranks as the knights whipped them into shape.
It seemed to her that they were preparing to move out soon and the worry she felt for her husband began to increase.
She’d been fighting it off all day, but now that their departure was approaching, it was coming on with a vengeance.
Her nervous stomach, something she’d hardly suffered from since her arrival to Narborough, was beginning to make itself known and she could already feel the gas bubbles popping up, reminding her of her worrisome spirit.
Worried, indeed, for Bric.
But she remained at the smaller gatehouse, vigilantly watching the army and ignoring both the chill of the evening and her upset stomach.
She stood there as the sun set, and the air turned damp and cold, still watching everything, still seeing Bric on occasion.
She was starting to live for those glimpses, seeing flashes of the man she was so deeply in love with.
It was the only thing she cared about. As she stood there, shivering in the darkness, someone came up behind her and put a heavy shawl over her shoulders.
“I thought you might need this,” Keeva said, smiling at Eiselle when the woman looked at her in surprise. “It is a cold night.”
Eiselle pulled the shawl tight. “It is,” she said. “Thank you for the wrap. I can feel the dampness in the air.”
Keeva, who was warmly dressed against the night, glanced up at the sky. “There is always dampness in the air because of our closeness to the river,” she said. “Even in the summer, we will have misty mornings over the land. I have a feeling we may see a misty morning tomorrow.”
Eiselle’s gaze was on the army. “But they will move out regardless of the mist, won’t they?”
Keeva nodded. “They will move out no matter what the weather is like.”
So much for hoping that fog would delay the army and, consequently, Bric’s departure. Eiselle tried not to appear too disappointed about it.
“I do not know how you have become accustomed to this,” she said after a moment. “Your husband leaves for battle and yet you appear so calm. I wonder if I shall ever feel so calm.”
Keeva put her hand on Eiselle’s arm. “I may appear calm, but the truth is that I am just as anxious as you are,” she said. “Daveigh is all I have. If he does not return, I do not know what I shall do or where I shall go.”
Eiselle looked at her. “I am sure that Daveigh is well-protected by the knights,” she assured her. “And Narborough is your home. If something… well, if something happened, surely you would remain here, as is your right. Why would you even think to leave?”
Keeva shrugged. “Narborough is the crown jewel in the Honor of Narborough, and with it goes the title of Baron Cressingham,” she said.
“All of this would go to the next Baron Cressingham, who would be Daveigh’s younger half-brother, Grayson.
He has only seen fourteen years, but he is already a fine young man.
I know that Grayson would permit me to remain here if I wished it, but it is more than that.
Daveigh is my heart and my soul, Eiselle.
When I say he is all that I have, I mean that he is the life that beats within me.
I could not lose that, much as you could not lose Bric. ”
Eiselle understood the passion of her statement. “I almost did,” she said quietly. “Our life together was almost over before it began. I am concerned for him returning to battle so soon.”
Keeva could see the stress in her fine features. “I know you are worried for Bric, lass,” she said quietly. “I have heard the rumors, too. We all have. But Bric descends from the High Kings of Ireland, and he is a warrior of legend. You must not worry over him. He will come home to you.”
Eiselle wasn’t comforted by her words. Dashiell had told her the last time the army had left for battle that Bric would come home to her, and he had – as a casualty. Therefore, Keeva’s words had no real meaning to her but she didn’t say so. She simply nodded her head.
“I am coming to see that worrying for Bric serves no purpose,” she said.
“I do believe it displeases him if he knows I am worried for him, so I try not to show it. But watching him ride off to battle and not feel sick to my stomach is going to take practice. The one and only time I watched him ride away was when he returned to me injured.”