Chapter Twenty-One
Someone was knocking on the chamber door.
Bric heard it and his knightly instincts had him instantly awake, reaching for a broadsword that he no longer kept beside his bed.
But that was habit. Glancing to the oil-cloth covered windows, he could see that it was barely dawn.
There was a tiny bit of light poking through in what promised to be another lovely summer day.
Climbing out of bed carefully, as not to awake Eiselle, he made his way over to the door. He was nude, so he didn’t open it. Instead, he hissed through the crack.
“Who comes?” he muttered.
“My lord, some men have arrived for you,” Manducor said. “They are in the hall.”
Bric sighed heavily, glancing at Eiselle, who stirred with the raised voices. “Who is it?”
“I do not know. They simply told me to fetch you.”
“Are they armed?”
“They are knights.”
“Then find me a broadsword before I go down into the hall.”
Manducor must have wandered off to do what he was told because Bric didn’t hear a reply.
Frustrated that he’d been woken so early, and the least bit curious as to who was in the hall, he found his breeches and a tunic, pulling both on.
He also pulled his boots on, tying them off before quietly opening the door and slipping from the chamber.
The landing outside was dark, but there was a doorway ahead of him that opened out onto the gallery above the hall. He fully intended to have a look at the men who had come to see him before he went down to confront them.
As he moved into the gallery, Manducor came up behind him, a weapon in hand, but Bric wouldn’t take it.
He just wanted it at the ready should he be forced to defend himself and his wife.
In a life or death situation, that was the only way he was going to pick up a weapon again.
But what he saw in the gallery wasn’t a threat at all.
A grin crossed his lips as he quickly turned and headed down the spiral stairs.
Entering the darkened hall where the servants were just building the fire, Bric saw the three men over near the hearth where Royce’s mother was giving them all warmed wine to drink. Bric could see the steam wafting up from the cups in the chill of the room.
“Lock up the women and the silver,” Bric said, watching the men turn and look at him. “Someone must have left the door unlocked and now we are overrun.”
Bentley laughed as Dashiell headed right to Bric, reaching out to cup the man’s face between his two big hands.
“You ugly wretch,” he muttered, his eyes glittering with warmth. “The last time I saw you, you had a hole in your chest. God be praised that you survived it.”
Bric smiled in return. “I did, indeed,” he said. When Dashiell dropped his hands, Bric caught sight of Bentley approaching. “Lord de Vaston, I am surprised and pleased to see you. What brings you both to the wilds of Norfolk?”
Before Bentley could answer, the third figure came into focus and Bric’s eyes widened when he realized who it was.
“De Lara?” he gasped. “Bleeding Christ, do my eyes deceive me? It is really you?”
Sean shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. “It is,” he said. “It has been a while, MacRohan. But Dash is right; you are still ugly.”
Bric was truly astonished to see the legendary Sean de Lara in his hall. “Fortunately, my wife does not think so,” he said. “She is sleeping, but I will send for her right away. She will want to see you all.”
Sean held up a hand. “No need to wake the woman,” he said.
“We will be here for a day or two, I would imagine, so there will be plenty of time for us to tell your wife what a terrible mistake she made when she married the likes of you. In truth, when Dash told me you’d married his cousin, I could hardly believe it.
I did not think the High Warrior to be the marrying kind. ”
Bric shrugged. “Nor did I,” he said, looking at Dashiell. “It was not as if I had a choice. Dash was going to force me into marriage whether or not I wanted to, so I am happy to say that it has been more than agreeable for me.”
“Then you have discovered a whole new life other than warfare?”
Bric’s smile faded somewhat. “A whole new life, indeed. It has been… soul-changing. Much has happened.”
The mood suddenly changed, turning into something vaguely uneasy.
The reason for their visit was like a cloud over their heads, something that could not be ignored any longer.
Rather than continue to good-naturedly insult one another, the purpose behind their appearance had to be spoken of.
Sean glanced at Dashiell, who took the lead.
“So we have heard,” Dashiell said quietly. “Bric, you should know that we have come on Lady de Winter’s summons. She said that you have suffered greatly as of late and that you are not yourself. We came to help.”
Bric’s smile disappeared and he suddenly felt quite embarrassed. He loved these men, and respected them greatly, and he didn’t want them to think he was some sort of weakling.
“While I appreciate your kindness, I do not need help,” he said with forced bravery. “I am fine. Just seeing you fortifies my heart. A day of feasting and conversation with you three will heal whatever ails me.”
“It is more than that.”
The words came from the darkened hall entry and the four of them turned to see Eiselle standing in the shadows.
Clad in a deep blue robe, with her dark hair slightly mussed and braided over one shoulder, she was astonishingly beautiful.
Not one man in the room didn’t think so.
But as she came into the hall, the light from the hearth hit her face. She was looking at her husband.
“Forgive me, my love, but I cannot let you pretend nothing is wrong,” she said.
“And Keeva did not send for Dash. I did. I asked her to send him to Bedingfeld because whatever has happened with you, whatever pain and distress you feel, I fear I cannot help you. I fear that only men who understand the strains of the knighthood will understand and I pray that it is through them you find yourself again. Be angry with me if you must, but I did it because I love you. I simply want you to be well again.”
Bric was looking at her with a mixture of frustration and sorrow. His terrible secret was out, courtesy of his wife, and he couldn’t decide just how he felt about her interference.
“Eiselle, it was not necessary,” he said after a moment.
He was going to try and talk his way out of this; Eiselle could see it. Even if he was too embarrassed to admit the truth, Eiselle wasn’t. She turned to Dashiell.
“After his injury, there were rumors at Narborough that his brush with death had changed him,” she said.
“Keeva saw it, and Daveigh saw it. Daveigh said that Bric became a nursemaid to the men rather than the master they needed. If that wasn’t bad enough, he went with the army to defend Castle Acre from a French raid and accidentally killed Mylo de Chevington. ”
By this time, Bric was hanging his head, but he didn’t stop her.
Nothing she said was untrue. But hearing his failure from her sweet lips did something to him; it made him feel so very ashamed.
Reaching out a hand, he grasped her by the arm to beg her to silence herself, but it was all he could muster.
He could do no more because he knew, deep down, that she was trying to help him.
“Eiselle, please…” he whispered.
Eiselle’s eyes were filling with tears because she knew this was something profoundly painful for them both.
She felt she was spilling all of Bric’s deep and dark secrets, but they were secrets meant to be known by those who loved him.
Men who could help him, and if they were to help him, they had to know everything.
“They were fighting in the dark at Castle Acre,” she went on, her lower lip trembling.
“Mylo saw a man go after Bric, but Bric did not see this. Mylo put himself between Bric and the French knight in order to save my husband, but Bric didn’t realize it was Mylo.
He thought he was about to be killed and struck out in the darkness.
After Mylo died, Bric carried him back the sixteen miles to Narborough.
He walked the entire way and the army walked with him.
After that… after that, he was incoherent.
It was as if killing Mylo had broken him.
We kept him sedated with a poppy potion and brought him here, hoping the rest would do him good, but he needs more than that.
Please… help him if you can. He is the most powerful and wonderful man I have ever known. I beg you… help him.”
Her voice cracked with the last few words and tears spilled over. Quickly, she wiped at her face, struggling with her composure, but Bric pulled her against him and wrapped his big arms around her. Eiselle began to weep, painful sobs, as Bric simply held her.
It was a heartbreaking moment for Dashiell, Bentley, and Sean to watch.
In fact, Dashiell had to swallow away the lump in his throat.
The missive Lady de Winter sent suggested things were bad, but he couldn’t have imagined just how bad they were or the exact circumstances.
He glanced at Bentley, who was greatly distressed at the scene, and then at Sean, who only had sadness in his eyes.
After a moment, Dashiell went over to Bric and Eiselle, in their tight embrace, and put his hand on Bric’s head.
“That is why we have come,” he said hoarsely. “I owe you my very life, Bric. There is nothing I would not do for you and I swear, I will do all I can to help you through whatever ails you. You saved my life once and now, I am going to save yours.”
Bric simply nodded his head, still holding fast to Eiselle. “I am grateful,” he whispered. “My wife is grateful. Let me return her to our chamber and then I will come back to the hall and we may… speak on things.”
“Take your time,” Dashiell said. “We will be down here when you are ready.”