Chapter Seventeen #2
Gray stared at him. Then she pulled from his grasp, her amber eyes blazing. “I am not leaving my home and neither is my daughter,” she was angry, exhausted and unbalanced. “I am not leaving.”
Braxton was exhausted, too. He struggled to maintain his calm with her, having been in battle mode for days. His usual patience was slipping.
“Please, sweet,” he was laboring not to come across as hard and commanding with her. “If you remain at Erith, my focus will be divided and I must maintain all of my focus on the battle. Your distraction could prove deadly if my mind is not where it should be.”
She gazed at him, looking horrified and accusing at the same time. “Are you saying it would be my fault if you were killed because I do not want to leave my home?”
Braxton pushed himself to calm before things got out of hand, reaching out to grasp her again and put his arms around her.
“I am simply saying that removing you from Erith would relieve my mind considerably,” he kissed her pale cheek, noticing that Edgar was back with a sack full of food.
He pulled Gray to sit once more. “Sit down before you fall down. Come have something to eat and we shall continue this conversation when we are both feeling better.”
Shaking, pale, Gray allowed him to sit her back down at the table as Edgar rushed up and began to pull food out of the sack; he put three big loaves of bread on the table plus two chunks of white cheese, three small apples, several handfuls of walnuts, and a bundle of dried jerky that was tied off with dried grass.
As Braxton and Dallas began dividing the food up for the women, Norman suddenly popped up through the floor from the lower level kitchens with a hogshead barrel of wine in his grip.
He rolled the barrel out onto the floor, leapt off the ladder, and reclaimed the barrel as he made his way over to the table.
Servants and two soldiers were following him with cups and other morsels of food.
Braxton’s first order of refreshment was the wine.
He poured, and drank, two big cups before pouring himself a third and slowing down his intake.
He sat next to Gray, his focus on the open entry door and the commotion going on down in the bailey as he slowly swallowed his third cup of wine.
He was thinking on the siege engines his men were quickly constructing, wondering if they would do the damage to de Clare’s incoming army as he hoped, when he glanced over at Gray and noticed how the woman was wolfing down her bread.
Her starving actions brought waves of remorse, of guilt and sadness, and he reached up a big hand and put it gently on the back of her head, affectionately, as if to silently apologize for what she had been through.
He glanced over his shoulder, looking across the table to Brooke and Dallas; his knight was perched on the table next to his wife, cutting off only the best pieces of jerky for her.
Brooke gobbled them up like a little bird, fairly starving herself.
His gaze met with Dallas’ and the younger knight wriggled his eyebrows as if to acknowledge what horrors the women must have endured closed up in the keep while the men were down in the ward fighting off de Clare’s army.
It frustrated Braxton all the more; he only wanted to spoil and pamper his wife and daughter, not force them into hardship.
He found himself cursing Constance yet again for bringing all of this upon them; even though she was no longer present at Erith, she was still wreaking havoc.
Like ripples on the water, the repercussions kept coming and coming.
But Braxton was still determined to emerge the victor, no matter what the old woman had started. He began to rethink his strategy of forcing Gray away from Erith. Perhaps if he put it to her another way…
“Sweetheart,” he leaned over, kissing her on the temple. “Can I make a suggestion?”
Gray was chewing on an apple. “What is that?”
He watched her cut pieces of apple with a small knife.
“Well,” his free hand began to stroke her shoulder; he wanted to come across gentle and persuasive, which seemed to be the best way to deal with her.
“I know of a wonderful place in Lancaster where you and Brooke could go for a time until this madness is over. It is an inn built on the foundations of an old Roman bathhouse and they have the most marvelous amenities.”
Gray was looking at him curiously but across the table, Brooke had heard him also. She perked up. “Amenities? What does that mean?” she asked.
Braxton was smart enough to capitalize on Brooke’s interest; he thought that if perhaps he got the young woman interested, then Gray would surely follow.
“It means services and features,” he told her.
“First of all, every bed chamber is luxurious with silks and furs, and the food is the best in the city. They serve things like baked fish with raisins and onions, and sweets made from pears and honey. They also have women whose only job is to bathe you, massage you, dress you, and tend to your every need. If you want them to scratch your back all day, they will do it without complaint.”
By this time, Brooke’s eyes were alive with delight. “Truly?” she sighed.
“Truly.”
“Have you been to this place?”
He nodded. “I was there once for a meal,” he said. “I met a baron there who… well, suffice it to say that we supped together and the food and accommodations were remarkable.”
Brooke shoved a piece of cheese into her mouth, chewing as she hung on his every word. “What did you have to eat?”
He thought a moment. “I had beef soaked in wine with peppercorns and pine nuts, and apricots with mint and honey, and other delights,” he cast a glance at Gray to make sure she was listening.
“But the accommodations were surely the best in the world. I slept on a bed of silk, bathed in an enormous bath with painted tiles, and was surrounded by a half dozen servants. I never had to lift a finger for any want or need; they ensured every wish was fulfilled.”
Brooke swallowed the food in her mouth, obviously entranced by his description. She looked at Dallas. “Have you been there also?”
Dallas nodded, looking drolly at Braxton. “I was there, but I remained outside while Braxton lived like an emperor. I was not fortunate enough to be treated to such luxury.”
Brooke giggled. “Do… do you think we can go there someday? I want to see the Roman baths.”
Dallas smiled, stroking her soft cheek, which was starting to regain some color to it. “Of course,” he said. “If that is your wish.”
“Perhaps you would like to go now until this business with de Clare is finished,” Braxton suggested. “You and your mother could live the life of luxury while your husband and I finish off Gloucester. We will come and join you when we are finished.”
He threw out the big bait and held his breath as Brooke looked at Dallas and then to her mother.
In fact, he turned to look at Gray, too, as if she was the deciding factor in the vote.
But Gray remained focused on her apple, chewing slowly and thoughtfully.
Gently, Braxton collected her free hand and kissed it.
“I am sure you would enjoy it,” he said softly.
“It would be much better than staying here in this dank place, starving for days on end while a battle goes on around you. You could be treated to the finest luxury England has to offer; food aplenty, soft beds, fine clothes, and servants tending to your every whim. And you and Brooke could go shopping daily and buy more finery than you know what to do with; a new surcoat for every hour, a new necklace for every mood, and perfumes for every day of the week. Does that sound appealing, sweetheart?”
With all eyes on her, Gray could see what he was doing; she wasn’t stupid. She knew he was very nicely trying to convince her to leave Erith. She looked at him, her amber eyes glimmering.
“It does,” she said quietly. “And you are most sweet and generous to suggest it. But I would be living like a queen, wondering if I still had a husband. Braxton, none of that means anything without you. I could not be living a carefree life knowing that you were fighting for your every existence. What kind of wife would I be if I could forget your peril so easily?”
Braxton could see that she wasn’t being deliberately stubborn; she truly meant what she said. He kissed her gently.
“You would be a wife giving her husband peace of mind,” he whispered. “If I know you are happy and well, I can move mountains. Please do this for me.”
She set the apple down on the table and hung her head.
Braxton put his arms around her, his forehead to hers, feeling her body as it began to shake with soft sobs.
He knew she was distraught; he was distraught, too, but he truly believed it was best for her.
The mood of the room turned painful, uncertain, as Braxton tried to comfort his wife.
Across the table, Dallas suddenly spoke.
“Although I will respect Lady de Nerra’s decision to remain or to leave, I intend to make the decision that I feel best for my wife and I,” he cleared his throat as he looked at Brooke, taking her soft hand in his.
“I, for one, do not want you here when Gloucester returns. I intend to send you away until I can come for you. If you wish to go to Braxton’s inn in Lancaster, I will send you there happily.
It would bring me comfort knowing you are content and well cared for. ”
Brooke’s luminous blue eyes bulged. “You… you would send me away?” she looked at Gray, almost in panic. “But what about my mother?”
Dallas was firm but not unsympathetic. “What she and Braxton decide is their own affair,” he said, caressing her hand. “But I must do what I feel is best for you.”
Brooke bolted to her feet. “I am not leaving without my mother.”