Chapter Twenty-Two #2
Sean went to pick up the broadsword that Bric had tossed aside.
“There is nothing to be ashamed of,” he said.
“Two years ago, I was like you. I’d just suffered a terrible injury at the hands of John’s assassins and should have died.
Yet, I did not. I have come back, stronger than before, and you shall come back as well, Bric.
It is only a matter of time. With help, your confidence will return.
You will cast out those demons that haunt you. ”
Bric knew of Sean’s past, the Lord of the Shadows who had been England’s greatest spy. That was why he respected the man so much – he’d gone head-to-head with King John and had lived to tell the tale. Not many men could say the same.
“I am glad you think so because, at the moment, I am not so sure,” he said. “I can use a sword, of course, but it does not feel natural in my hand any longer. It feels like something I am allergic to.”
“You were not allergic to it when you struck me with it,” Bentley said. “You used it as you have always used it. And you had better feed me well tonight if I am to forget about that blow to the jaw.”
Bric smiled weakly. “I will ply you with wine in the hope that you will forget a mere knight struck you.”
Bentley shook his head. “You are not a ‘mere’ knight, Bric,” he said. “You are the knight. I have the bruise to prove it.”
As everyone laughed softly, Sean went to Bric and put his hand on the man’s neck. “Now,” he said. “If you feel like continuing, then we have work to do. But do not be surprised if you are attacked again by a man wielding a broadsword. It may happen again, some time.”
Bric now understood what they were doing; trying to work the fear out of him and in doing so, help him regain his confidence.
He’d told Eiselle in a low moment that he didn’t know who he was any longer but, at this moment, he was starting to recognize himself again, the knight who had taken a beating ever since his injury.
But he still had a long way to go.
“Then I suppose I shall have to accept it,” he said. “Are we finished chopping wood? I am growing bored.”
Sean cocked his head. “We are finished if you choose to submit to my victory.”
“I do not choose to submit to your victory.”
“Then we are not finished.”
The wood chopping, the yelling, and the camaraderie went on the rest of the day.
Three days later
“He is functioning much better,” Manducor said as he watched Eiselle fuss around the smaller feasting table in the hall of Bedingfeld.
“I have been watching him and his companions for four days now and he seems to be getting much better. Yesterday, they had him participate in a mock sword fight and he beat de Lara right into the ground. There seems to be an anger in him when he fights, my lady. Such… anger.”
Eiselle was making sure everything on the table was nicely set for the evening feast. Bedingfeld had apple and pear orchards, and she’d gone out with Royce and a few of the servants today to pick apples and cut off some of the branches so that the table had a lovely decoration of apples and green-leafed branches.
Her mother used to decorate their table so, and she thought it rather fresh and festive.
But Manducor’s words worried her. She had not really known her husband before his injury, so she could only base her knowledge of him on her experiences since their marriage.
He didn’t seem like an angry man to her, simply overwrought and exhausted at times, so his anger wasn’t something she was familiar with.
“Mayhap they are working him too hard,” she finally said. “Mayhap he is angry because his friends are pushing him so.”
Manducor could only shrug. “They are pushing him so that he will recover,” he reminded her. “That is what you want, isn’t it?”
“Of course it is.”
“Then mayhap the anger he feels is at himself.”
Eiselle looked up from the table. “Why would you say that?”
Manducor reached out and took one of the apples from her careful decoration, taking a big bite out of it. As he spoke, pieces of apple went flying from his lips.
“Bric is a man of strength,” he said. “That is all he knows. To lose that strength would make him very angry at himself, so this is a way of displaying that anger. But I would not worry; mayhap it is all part of the process of restoring him to what he was before.”
Eiselle believed his words because they made sense to her. “I hope so,” she said. Then, he stole another apple and she found herself wishing he’d go away from her pretty table. “Why are you not out there with the men? Why are you in here with me?”
Manducor averted his gaze, chomping down on his second apple.
“They do not need an old man in the way,” he said.
“You have four of the finest knights I have ever seen out in your garden, Lady MacRohan. Not just any knights; you even have a duke. Who am I? A knight who laid down his sword to become a priest. I am not worthy to be with the likes of them.”
Eiselle replaced the apple he’d taken with another one in her basket. “You are very worthy,” she said. “Whether or not you realize it, you have been a great help to both Bric and me. You have a great deal of wisdom. But I must ask you something.”
“Anything, my lady.”
“Are you ever going to tell me your real name?”
He snorted, taking the last bite of the apple and tossing the core into the hearth. “I am Jesus Christ,” he said, throwing up his arms. “I am John the Baptist, the Apostle Paul, and Charlemagne. I am every man.”
Eiselle chuckled at him. “You are impossible,” she said. But quickly, she sobered. “Do you remember when you and I used to have discussions about God speaking?”
Manducor nodded. “I do.”
She looked at him. “Has He spoken to you about Bric?” she asked. “Surely, I would have thought God would speak to you about something so important.”
Manducor pondered her words. “I think, mayhap, we are looking at this all wrong,” he said. “We are waiting for God to use words. But when those three knights arrived to help Bric, mayhap that was God speaking in actions. He sent those men here to help. Did you ever think of it that way?”
Eiselle hadn’t, but she liked the idea. “I had the missive sent to Dash.”
“And Dash came and brought his friends,” he pointed out. “You did not ask for that, so mayhap God is speaking through de Lara and de Vaston.”
Eiselle was comforted by his words. Perhaps God had been speaking all along but she had been listening for the wrong sign.
It was certainly something to consider.
Manducor turned to leave the hall, perhaps to go and watch the knights he’d been shadowing since they arrived. He’d never actively participated in what they were doing, as he said, but he’d been watching them closely and reporting back to Eiselle.
Eiselle, too, had kept a low profile since the arrival of Dashiell and the others, not wanting to be a distraction or a crutch to Bric, who seemed to be genuinely responding to what they were doing.
His mood seemed better, and although his hands bled from the work and his body was sore at night, he seemed to be enjoying it immensely and that was all she could hope for.
He did seem better and Eiselle could not have been more pleased.
In fact, she was so very happy that he seemed to be returning to normal, much more like the man she’d met on the day she’d arrived at Narborough.
Not that she didn’t love the man he’d become.
In truth, she loved his weaker moments with her, the moments he would let his emotions run free.
But in order for Bric to be healthy, he had to return to the man he’d been before the madness started.
She was starting to see that, little by little.
Leaving her half-dressed table, she followed Manducor as he headed up the spiral stairs.
She knew he was going to the chamber with the windows that overlooked the garden, and she wanted to see what her husband was taking part in on this fine day because, in truth, they could hear the shouting all the way in the hall.
Whatever it was must have been exciting.
Once Eiselle and Manducor peered from the windows overlooking the garden to see the activity below, it was something that immediately brought a smile to Eiselle’s lips.
Someone had set up four targets against the western wall of the garden, targets that consisted of hay from the stables that had been bundled up with rope.
She could see that they’d taken charcoal from the ashes of a fire and had drawn targets on the hay bundles, dark enough so they could be seen from a good distance away.
Then, standing over against the eastern wall of the garden, she could see the four knights, all lined up.
They had longbows and arrows in their hands and as she watched, she could see Bric and Sean arguing over the fact that Sean had a crossbow that he wanted to use, when everyone else had traditional longbows.
Sean finally surrendered the crossbow and picked up the same bow that the others had.
Using arrows that Dashiell and Sean had brought with them, they all lined up, aimed at the targets, and fired.
Eiselle heard cheering as the knights rushed across the garden to see who came the closest to their targets and Manducor pointed out young Royce as he stood along the southern wall of the garden, jumping up and down excitedly.
The sight of the servant boy gave Eiselle an idea; if young Royce could watch from inside the garden, then she wanted to watch at close range, too.
It was true that she’d been purposely staying out of the way as of late, but in watching her handsome husband and his friends, she couldn’t stay away any longer.
She very much wanted to see them up close.
Departing the chamber with Manducor on her heels, she rushed back the way she’d come, heading out of the rear door of the manse and onward to the walled garden where all of the excitement was happening.