Chapter Sixteen #3
Eiselle was struggling with emotions that were trying very hard to bubble up.
“Bric had his life here at Narborough before I came. These men he fought with… they are part of the brotherhood that is Narborough. Then Bric married me and, although he loves me and I love him, I feel wholly unworthy to be part of this tragedy. He killed his knight and I understand that is terrible, indeed, but who am I to comfort him? I know nothing. I am stupid when it comes to what he must be feeling.”
Manducor understood. “By virtue of your marriage to MacRohan, you are involved more deeply than most,” he said quietly.
“Eiselle, I know you are frightened and, God knows, you have faced a great deal of tribulation since you married Bric. It is too much to ask of any woman. But let me see if I can explain what has happened in words you can understand – men that fight and die together form a bond that goes beyond blood. Do you have a sister? A brother?”
Eiselle shook her head. “Nay.”
“But you have a mother and father that are still living?”
“Aye.”
“Then imagine if you accidentally killed your mother. Can you imagine the grief and guilt you would feel for such a thing?”
“I believe I can.”
“Then that is what your husband is feeling, only worse. All you need to know is he probably feels grief and guilt badly enough that it will eat him alive if he lets it.”
“Then what must I do to help him?”
Manducor sighed faintly. “All I can tell you is to be gentle with him, and to be understanding,” she said.
“Do not tell him that he will feel better someday. Do not tell him that everything will be all right. Do not tell him stories to try and take his mind off of what has happened. Hold him when he weeps, feed him when he cannot eat, and simply be there to listen to him should he need to speak. That is the only advice I can give you.”
It didn’t sound as if she could do very much at all. “But I feel so… useless. I do not know if I can be any help to him.”
Manducor put a big hand on her shoulder. “Simply being with him, every second of every day, will be enough. He must know that you will never leave him, lass. Can you do that?”
“Of course I can,” she said. “But will you please do something for me?”
“If I can.”
Eiselle looked at him, tears glimmering in her eyes. “Pray for him,” she whispered. “Mayhap God will finally talk to you and He will tell you how we can help him.”
Manducor simply nodded, patting her on the shoulder gently before dropping his hand. As they stood there, one of the sentries on the wall shouted, and men began to take up the cry that the army was on the approach.
That cry was like a scream to Eiselle. It seemed to run right through her, making her entire body feel as if she’d been struck by lightning.
Everything tingled. Her nervous stomach began doing flips as she labored to remain calm.
You must be calm for Bric, she told herself.
No matter what he looks like or how he behaves, you must be strong for him!
God, she didn’t want to fail him.
The activity on the walls grew as, far down the straight stretch of road, they could see men appear.
They looked like little specks, dots with legs, all of them moving.
In the distance, they could also see horses, but they had no riders.
They were being led by their masters, all of them walking down the road towards Narborough, all of them feeling the summer heat as the temperatures on this day had remained elevated.
It was enough to cause a man to sweat as he stood in the sun, watching and waiting, and Eiselle saw Roget as the man began to walk down the road, quickly, carrying the horse blanket with him that Manducor had brought him.
Somewhere down the road, Roget disappeared into the gang of men and horses that was approaching. Eiselle took a few steps away from Manducor, lifting her hand to her eyes to shield them from the sun, straining to catch a glimpse of her husband as he carried his dead comrade home.
And then, she saw him.
She saw a man walking down the center of the road at a distance, carrying a burden which, as the man drew closer, appeared to be a body.
Hypnotized by the sight, Eiselle took a few more steps down the road and away from the gatehouse, struggling to make the figure out clearly.
She saw the pale blond hair before she ever saw any features, knowing that it was her husband and that he was, indeed, carrying a body in his arms. Considering Mylo had been a well-built man, to carry his body those sixteen miles back from Castle Acre was enough to put a strain on even the strongest man.
But her heart was breaking at the sight. The closer he came, the bigger the lump in her throat. She blinked rapidly, chasing off the tears, thinking she’d never in her life seen anything so horrible and tragic. Her dear, poor husband was carrying his brother-in-arms all the way home.
It was the saddest thing she’d ever seen.
The group grew closer and she could make out the features on Bric’s face.
He looked dazed to her, his entire face red with sweat and exhaustion.
The warm temperatures weren’t helping. She could see Daveigh and Pearce walking beside Bric, and she saw clearly when Daveigh took the horse blanket from Roget and tried to cover Mylo with it.
But Bric wouldn’t let him; for whatever reason, Bric didn’t want Mylo to be covered up.
And they drew closer. Eiselle caught a glimpse of Mylo’s pasty-white form and she could see the caked blood and gore all along the left side of the man’s neck, shoulder, and head.
When she realized his head was flopping back and forth because it had been nearly cut loose, she stopped looking at him.
Fighting down the vomit, her eyes fixed on Bric’s face and that was where they remained.
When he came within about twenty feet of her, she walked out to meet him.
But Bric wasn’t looking at her; he really wasn’t looking at anyone. He was simply looking ahead. Eiselle looked quickly to the faces around him, to Daveigh and Pearce, and other soldiers who were walking with him in solidarity. They all appeared so stricken and shattered.
But rather than feel stricken and shattered herself, Eiselle realized she had to do something.
Keeva had told her that it was up to her to separate Bric from Mylo, and that was exactly what she intended to do.
An entire army was watching her husband crumble and, God willing, they weren’t going to see anymore.
She would protect Bric from their pity and even judgment if it was the last thing she did.
It was time for her to show her worth.
“Bric?” she said, walking right up to him and cutting off his path. When he came to an unsteady halt and looked at her, she smiled timidly. “Bric? You are home now, my love. You made it home.”
Bric looked at her with an expression that could only be described as hollow. It was as if the man was completely hollow. But he recognized her; the silver eyes shifted when he looked at her as if realization dawned. Then his features tightened.
“I did this,” he said hoarsely. “I killed him.”
He sounded so very pathetic, his voice raspy and breathless, as if a thousand knives were scraping up his innards and coming out of his mouth. Eiselle felt his pain and it was an effort not to react.
Be strong!
“It was an accident,” she said softly, moving towards him slowly. “You did not mean to kill him. It was an accident.”
Bric watched her as she came closer and closer, finally putting her hands on his left one, the one that was holding Mylo around the shoulders.
When she touched him, he inhaled sharply, drawing in an unsteady breath.
It was like her touch awoke something in him, breaking him out of the daze he’d been in.
“He sacrificed himself for me,” he said, speaking to her as if they were the only two people in the entire world. “He told me to watch my back, but it was so dark… so dark… I felt a man next to me and believed it to be the enemy. But it was Mylo. I cut him down, Eiselle. I killed him.”
Eiselle could see that something wasn’t right with him.
The man had reached the breaking point and all she could think of was getting him inside the keep and away from his men.
Bric needed peace, quiet, and privacy to work through whatever was happening to him.
Her sense of protectiveness towards the man came on strong.
“It was an accident,” she said again. “You must not blame yourself. Now, you must let the men take him away because he needs to see Angela. She is waiting for him and you must let him go. You have taken great care of him and I know he would be appreciative, but now you must let him go. Please, Bric… let him go.”
She began pulling at his fingers, trying to force him to release his grip. Swamped with temporary madness and indecision, Bric hesitated.
“Please, my love,” Eiselle said softly, reassuringly. “Please let him go. It is time.”
Bric resisted a moment longer before finally allowing her to move his hand.
Swiftly, Pearce and several other men swooped in to remove Mylo from his arms as Daveigh threw the horse blanket over the corpse to shield it from the world.
As this was happening, Eiselle put her arms around Bric and began pulling him towards the gatehouse.
“Come with me,” she said softly, steadily. “Come inside with me. You must rest now.”
He was walking stiffly, being separated from Mylo and not at all sure he wanted to be. “But… but Mylo…”
“Mylo will be well tended, I promise,” Eiselle assured him, looking to Manducor and silently pleading for his help. “Mylo will be taken care of and now we must take care of you. It was a long walk from Castle Acre and you must rest now. Come along, Bric.”
Manducor came up behind them, walking on Bric’s other side. He didn’t try to touch the man, but merely walked alongside him should he be needed. Right now, Lady MacRohan was doing an excellent job of tending her husband, but it was a sight that was shocking even for a seasoned man like Manducor.
Seeing MacRohan carry his dead colleague home was one of the most tragic sights Manducor had ever seen.
He should have been shocked by it but, in truth, he wasn’t.
MacRohan’s brush with death had changed him, as most were aware, and it was a fragile man who had returned to battle far sooner than he should have.
Bric MacRohan was strong, stronger than any man alive, but slaying his fellow knight, accidental though it might be, had pushed him beyond his endurance. The fragile man had cracked, and the results were before them.
It was devastating.
So, Manducor followed the pair as they headed into the keep.
He thought they might lose MacRohan when Lady de Chevington and her terrible son came bolting from the keep, with Lady de Chevington screaming and Lady de Winter running after her.
But Eiselle kept a tight grip on Bric and wouldn’t let him follow Angela even though he tried.
He tried to call after her, to tell her that he was sorry, but Eiselle put her hands on his face and made him turn away.
Then, she pleaded with Manducor to physically help her and he did, coming alongside MacRohan and taking one of the man’s arms to pull him into the keep.
But they all heard Angela screaming and weeping over the body of her husband.
It was a sound none of them would ever forget.