Chapter Seventeen
Brooke remembered the days of quiet at Erith, days that brought with them the uncertainty of where their next meal was coming from.
She clearly remembered weeks upon weeks, especially in the winter months, when they had gone without meat.
Life at Erith had been difficult, quiet, forgotten by the world.
She had not been content in the least. With the introduction of a new husband over the past few weeks, Brooke was coming to see what treasures and wonders life truly held for her.
She hadn’t wanted to marry Dallas but now she couldn’t remember when the man had not been with her.
And she didn’t know what she was going to do without him.
The sounds of battle had been going on for three days.
Heavy smoke filled the air as the sounds of screaming and fighting filled the ambient air like a surreal backdrop.
Brooke and Gray stayed to the hall, comforting the few servants that had managed to be inside the keep and trying not to starve to death in the process.
The kitchen stores were on the ground floor below them, but the only way to get to them was outside.
By the end of the second day, they had been out of wood for the hearth.
Now, they were nearly out of what food they had managed to scrounge.
Gray was going without food again simply so the others would have something to eat.
She hadn’t eaten in almost two days and was looking pale and very weak.
Brooke tried to coerce her into eating some stale bread crust, but Gray simply smiled and insisted that her child eat instead.
The three servants sat huddled in the corner with the whining dogs, whispering among themselves about the virtues of dog meat.
As night fell on the third day and a dog in the hall suddenly yelped and went silent, Brooke stood near the lancet window in the entry and cried.
She knew the servants were eating the dog and soon her mother would insist she partake.
She didn’t want to do it. She wanted to see Dallas and she wanted to get out of the keep.
She couldn’t even see the bailey beyond very well; Gray wouldn’t let her get too close to the window so the best she could do was stand there and listen to the chaos below.
So she stood there, pale and drawn from weeping and hunger, wrapped in one of her lovely new cloaks and praying for any sign from her husband.
It seemed to her that the fighting had shifted for it didn’t seem as loud as it once was; perhaps the armies were taking a rest from their marathon battle and perhaps that meant Dallas would soon appear with food and wood for the hearth.
As Brooke stood near the lancet window and dreamed of a better time, a body suddenly appeared in the window. Brooke shrieked and rushed at it, trying to push it through, but the body in the opening protested vehemently.
“Brooke, stop!” It was Edgar, wedged into the skinny window. “Stop pushing! You are going to kill me!”
Brooke shrieked again when she realized who it was and she grabbed hold of Edgar instead, pulling him through the window. The youth fell to the floor with a thud, drawing Gray from the other room. Gray came running into the entry, her eyes wide at her husband’s squire.
“Edgar!” she exclaimed. “Why are you here?”
Edgar was filthy and had a nice cut on his right forearm but was otherwise unharmed. He stood up and rubbed his elbow where he had smacked it against the floor.
“Sir Braxton sent me,” he said as he dashed between the women and threw the big iron bolt on the entry door. He yanked open the door and shouted to those below. “Up here!”
Gray closed her eyes tightly at the sound her husband’s name, fairly close to collapse. “Braxton is well?” she asked the boy.
Ladders were being propped up against the keep, coming to rest just beyond the bottom of the doorframe. Edgar steadied them as he answered.
“Aye, m’lady,” he said. “He is well. So is Sir Dallas. But Sir Graehm took an arrow to the chest yesterday and died.”
Gray murmured a prayer for both Braxton’s safety and Graehm’s death. “What of Geoff?” Gray wanted to know. “He was caught outside when all of this happened and he is not nearly healed from his neck wound.”
A ladder was being raised to the edge of the door from the bailey below. Edgar held the vertical post firm as men began to mount the ladder from below.
“He is well, too,” the lad said. “Not a scratch.”
Gray was relieved beyond words. She stood there, pale and trembling, as Braxton was the first one to reach the top of the ladder.
One look at his wife and he propelled himself off the ladder and into her arms. He was grimy, sweaty, smelly, and exhausted, but it didn’t matter. Gray clung to him, weeping softly.
“All is calm, sweet,” he squeezed her so tightly that he was sure he heard bones crack. Then his lips began moving over her ears and cheeks. “Are you well?”
She sniffled, wiping away the tears of joy and relief. “Fine,” she murmured. “Just a bit hungry. We’ve not had anything to eat for a day or so.”
He was already nodding even as the words left her mouth, snapping orders to Edgar, who leapt out the lancet window and took the rope down to the bailey because Dallas was on the ladder.
“Edgar will bring some food,” Braxton told her, holding her face in his dirty hands just to get a look at her. “You appear tired. Have you not slept?”
She was more concerned with him than with her own needs. “Do not worry about me,” she turned the subject around. “Are you well? What is happening out there?”
Braxton kissed her, gently and with great emotion, before putting his arm around her shoulder and leading her towards the great hall.
“Come and sit,” he murmured. “There is much to discuss.”
As Braxton led Gray into the cold and dank hall, Dallas reached the top of the ladder.
Brooke was standing there, jumping up and down with excitement, and he swept her into his arms as one would carry a child.
She threw her arms around his neck, joyfully strangling him, as he carried her towards the hall without a word.
Brooke didn’t utter a sound; she simply squeezed him tightly, eyes closed and face pressed into the side of his head.
Dallas was so exhausted and emotional that, for a moment, he didn’t trust himself to speak.
He could see that Braxton was taking Gray into the hall and he knew why; he and Brooke would join them.
Braxton was helping Gray sit on the bench just as Dallas approached carrying Brooke.
He set her down opposite her mother, removing his helm and setting it on the table as he called for water from one of the servants.
One of the three who had dined on dog meat went running to do his bidding.
Meanwhile, both Braxton and Dallas began to remove various piece of armor, like gloves and helms that had been on their bodies for three days.
There was great weariness to their movements.
“What is happening, Braxton?” Gray asked softly. “Has the fighting stopped?”
Braxton raked his fingers through his dark blond hair, scratching his scalp with some satisfaction. “For now,” he told her. “But it is a temporary lull. They will be back.”
The fear returned to Gray’s expression. “How do you know?”
Braxton was still in battle mode, trying not to be harsh or abrupt with her. “Because they have not left the area,” he told her. “They have simply pulled back to regroup and, I suspect, await reinforcements.”
Gray’s eyes widened. “Reinforcements?” she repeated. “From where? Who has attacked Erith?”
“Gloucester,” he told her the obvious. “When they sent the bodies of my men back, the entire army had come as escort, only they were hiding to the trees and I didn’t see them.
Stupid in hindsight; I should have suspected something like that.
In any case, they could not breach Erith’s inner wall and they have retreated to try again another day. ”
Gray was stunned, frightened. She didn’t dare look at Brooke.
All she knew was that her entire life was at stake and especially her daughter’s.
It made her terrified and angry at the same time, her mind brittle from lack of food and sleep.
She abruptly stood, pacing over to the cold hearth where a servant was laying out peat and wood.
As the man attempted to start a fire, Gray came to a halt, her gaze moving over the great hall of Erith, the only home she had ever known.
“What doom has been brought upon us?” she whispered rhetorically. “Are we to now know a greater measure of horror than we have ever experienced?”
Braxton could hear the desolation in her voice and moved to comfort her.
“I would not worry so,” he told her quietly.
“Gloucester sent a few hundred men, thinking they could easily raze Erith. But they had no idea that we had reinforced and rebuilt so much of her, which is why I suspect they are waiting for reinforcements. It was not an easy task as they originally thought. That gift of time will allow us to prepare a reception for them when they come again.”
She looked at him. “I do not understand your words,” she said. “What do you mean?”
Braxton’s blue-green eyes twinkled. “Now that I know they are returning, I can formulate a plan of resistance and counter attack. Erith will not be an easy target, I assure you, but I am greatly concerned that you and Brooke will be within the walls when Gloucester returns.”
Gray cocked her head as if having no idea what he was getting at. “This is our home. We will stay here.”
He went to her, putting his hands on her arms. “Sweetheart, listen to me,” he said softly. “I want to remove you and Brooke and send you somewhere safe. I do not want you here when Gloucester returns.”