Chapter Twenty-One #2
She smiled, running a gentle hand through his hair.
“And I’m quite eager to teach you,” she said, kissing him again.
“Sleep, now. I am going to see what kind of food they are preparing for the evening meal and I want to speak to Flush about caring for your wound. He cannot be by your side forever, so he must teach me what I need to know.”
“Do not go too far,” he said. “I need to know you are safe.”
“I will only leave the keep to go to the kitchen yard, I swear.”
That was good enough for him. He closed his eyes and Wynter left the chamber, quietly shutting the door behind her.
She headed down the stairs, her first destination the kitchens where Varro’s men had been handling most of the cooking.
They used a lot of oil and beans in their cooking, and vast amounts of pepper.
It was her intention to try and convince them to make less peppery meals, especially with Gage recovering.
The man didn’t need an upset belly on top of everything else.
Once she hit the entry level, her gaze was immediately drawn to the solar.
She ventured inside to see that it was empty, but what she did see were the bloody stains on the old Roman floor and table from Brian’s fatal wounds.
To look at them made her feel quite sad, so she bypassed the kitchens for the moment in favor of cleaning up the stains.
Somehow, she felt it was disrespectful to Brian’s memory to leave them.
As she found out quickly, there wasn’t one bucket in the whole of the keep that she could use to clean with.
Considering what the keep in general looked like, that wasn’t surprising, so she ended up going to the kitchens where Varro’s quartermasters were.
Explaining what she wanted to do, they provided her with a bucket of hot water, rags, and lye soap.
One man, older and grizzled, even went along to help her.
Between the two of them, they managed to reduce the bloodstains to a faint outline using the lye soap and gravel from the kitchen yard.
The rest of the day went as hoped for. It wasn’t even her castle, but Wynter helped make decisions on the food and the accommodations for the soldiers.
She lent her opinion to what was asked of her and it made her feel more satisfied than she’d ever felt.
Perhaps it was because she was a man’s wife now – Gage’s wife – and there was naturally more responsibility expected of her, but perhaps it was also because for the first time in her life, she felt like a woman.
Grown-up, married, complete. Married to the man she loved.
She wasn’t fighting with her father or keeping Brian at arm’s length. There were no real conflicts.
This was what true happiness is like, she thought.
It was a glorious bit of realization.
The rest of her afternoon consisted of collecting Gage’s belongings and inspecting his clothes to see if anything needed to be repaired.
Rummaging through his saddlebags, she came across his money, which filled nearly one-half of the bottom of one of his saddlebags, making it extremely heavy.
She found it curious that he should carry his wealth with him, for obvious reasons, but clearly he wasn’t concerned.
She also came across personal items – tweezers, combs and the like, a small sewing kit, which was the staple for both men and women, and a vast array of clothing that was rather worn.
All the while, she was moving around in the bedchamber while he slept heavily, his body recovering from a near-mortal injury.
He never stirred.
Gathering his clothing and the sewing kit, she quietly left the chamber.
Wynter had managed to repair three tunics and was working on a pair of breeches that were nearly beyond help when she began to hear voices down in the bailey.
They were faint at first, but those voices moved into the keep.
She could hear them coming up the steps and through the entry door.
She was in the solar, now relatively tidy and clean, as the door pushed open to reveal Clark. But he wasn’t alone.
Etienne was with him.
Curious and concerned, Wynter lowered the sewing into her lap as she gazed at the two knights.
“So you have come,” she said to Etienne. “I suppose I am not surprised. You told my father, didn’t you? Is he terribly angry?”
Clark motioned Etienne into the chamber and quietly closed the door. “Lady de Reyne,” he said softly. “Etienne has brought news from Ashleven.”
Wynter cast him a long look. “God’s bones,” she said, full of hesitancy. “It is worse than I thought. My father must be furious. Wait, my mother must be furious. Just tell me. Out with it, then.”
Clark looked at Etienne. The man was clearly reluctant but he’d ridden all day to reach Septentrion. Exhausted and grieved, he faced Wynter.
“Your mother raised the alarm this morning of your absence,” he said.
“Frankly, I was surprised it took her that long to realize you were gone, but your sisters evidently put your mother off as long as they could. They made it seem as if you were in your chamber when you were not. But your mother did discover your absence and I could no longer withhold what I knew. I told your father that de Luci came for you and did not seek his permission to do so.”
Wynter nodded with resignation. “You were in a difficult position, Etienne,” she said. “Thank you for keeping silent as long as you did. Have… have you been told about de Luci?”
Etienne nodded, his jaw ticking faintly. “Just now, when I arrived,” he said. “That is devastating news, my lady. I am very sorry to hear it.”
Wynter could see that he was genuinely upset about it. She thought it rather touching, considering he’d not really known Brian.
“I know,” she said softly. “I am not entirely sure how my father will react. He liked Brian a great deal. Is he outside in the bailey?”
Etienne shook his head. “He is not here, my lady,” he said. “That it what I have come to tell you. Your father intended to come to Septentrion this morning to retrieve you, but there was… an accident.”
Wynter frowned. “What accident?”
Etienne took a deep breath. “He was riding that new Arabian stallion he bought,” he said. “The animal threw him. My lady, I am very sorry to tell you that your father did not survive. He was killed when the horse fell on him.”
Wynter sucked in a sharp breath, dropping the sewing in her lap as she bolted to her feet, her eyes wide with shock.
“Nay,” she gasped. “It is not true. Tell me it is not true!”
“It is true, my lady. Your mother wants you home.”
“My… my father is dead?”
“He is, my lady. I’m so very sorry.”
Reality hit hard. Wynter’s face crumpled as her hands flew to her mouth, holding back the gut-busting sobs that were coming forth. She collapsed into the chair again, turning away from the knights and laying her face upon the table next to her.
Her weeping filled the room.
Clark and Etienne watched her dissolve into a mass of grief. Clark reached out a hand to Etienne.
“Stay here,” he said quietly. “Do not let her out of your sight.”
Etienne nodded as Clark slipped away. The young knight remained in the solar, watching Wynter sob deeply into her hands, wishing he could say something to comfort her. He wanted very much to console her, a woman he’d known for many years.
Slowly, he made his way towards her.
“Your father will be well-remembered, my lady,” he said softly.
“I came to Ashleven as a newly sworn knight those years ago and your father was the unfortunate recipient of my nerves at times, but he was always gracious. Always understanding. You see, I lost my own father when I was a child, so I viewed Lord Ashington as a father-figure. Mayhap that was presumptuous of me, but your father is how I always imagined my father to be. When I looked at Lord Ashington, I did not feel so alone in the world.”
Wynter was still sobbing openly. “That is a sweet sentiment,” she said, turning to the man with tears all over her face. “Was he angry with me, Etienne? Was he enraged when you told him where I’d gone?”
Etienne shook his head. “Nay,” he said honestly. “He was only concerned with the fact you were at a compromised castle. That was why he wanted to bring you home and for no other reason.”
Wynter’s features crumpled again at the thought. “He was coming to get me.”
“He was.”
She was off on a new round of sobs, painful weeping that shook the very walls of the solar.
“Brian died because of me,” she wept. “He had come to bring me to Gage and he was killed for it. Now my father was killed as he came to retrieve me. How many more men will I kill, Etienne? How many men must die because of me?”
She was growing hysterical. Etienne didn’t know what else to do but kneel beside her and grasp her by the arms, forcing her to look at him.
“Listen to me, Wynter,” he said, putting aside protocol.
“Listen to me. You have not done anything out of the ordinary. Lord Tynedale and Lord Ashington were not doing anything they were forced to do – you did not prompt them to make the decisions that ended their lives, so you must put that out of your mind. Do you understand me? You did not cause anything.”
Wynter nodded, still sobbing, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “My mother,” she wept. “I must get to my mother. She must be shattered.”
Etienne didn’t tell her what had happened after John’s death, how Maryann had thrown herself on the man’s body, refusing to let his men take him away.
“She needs you,” he said simply. “You must come back with me.”
“I will,” she said, struggling to regain control of her composure. “I must tell Gage. He must know.”
“I already know, my darling.”