Chapter Eleven #4
The tears stopped and her eyes widened. “Remove her?” she gasped. “How… why…?”
Maxton lifted her hands to his lips, kissing her fingers sweetly.
“Trust me,” he murmured. “Please, Andressa. You have asked for my help and I am so glad you did. I swear to you that I will protect you with my life. You have come to me with trust and now I ask you for the same as I help you solve your problem. Will you do this?”
She was still lingering on the kiss. It had been so sweet, so subtle, that her heart was racing because of it. It was a struggle to focus on his question.
“I… have been without anyone close to me for such a long time,” she said, her voice trembling.
“I had friends at Okehampton, and my parents and I were also close. But since I have been at St. Blitha, I have learned that every day is a fight for survival and that there is no one I can trust because each and every woman at St. Blitha is also fighting for her survival. I do not even know you, yet your kindness this morning was endearing. It has been so long since I have known any kindness.”
It was a confession of sorts, a glimpse into the protected, confused, and frightened world of Andressa.
Maxton could see how vulnerable she was and it touched him; he was fortunate.
He had close friends he could trust. But when it came to an emotional and personal level, much like her, he had no one at all.
He had seen forty years and three; he was an old man to some but, to others, he was seasoned and wise and strong.
But there was one thing in all of those years that had escaped him –
Someone to love.
Did he see that in Andressa? All he knew was that in the short time he’d known her, he had feelings towards her that he’d never had for anyone, at least not that strongly.
The woman was terrified and cold and hungry, and all he wanted to do was shield and protect and feed her.
He wanted to take care of her. He didn’t know why, other than his gut told him that he should.
His instincts had never been wrong.
“I am coming to think that our unexpected meeting this morning was not a mistake,” he said quietly. “Although I have never given much stock in God because, surely, I destroyed my chances of ascending to heaven long ago, I think that He brought you to me.”
She had wiped her tears away, listening to him intently. “Why?”
He forced a smile. “Because you need someone to trust. Clearly, you need me.”
Andressa wasn’t sure if he was joking; something in his eyes told her that he was for the most part. But not entirely. There was a glimmer there, something warm and kind that made her racing heart flutter yet again.
“I will admit it looks that way,” she said. “I suppose I could have gone straight to the king with this and try to tell him, but I thought you might be of more assistance.”
He shook his head. “I did not mean that, entirely,” he said.
“I mean with everything. You needed food this morning and I was happy to provide it. You need help now, and I am also happy to provide it. You see? God knew you needed me, although I am not entirely sure why He would send you to someone who has one foot in hell. That has me puzzled.”
Andressa cocked her head, thinking of the conversation they’d had earlier while by the stream. You cannot possibly imagine how unkind and ungenerous I am, he had said. She was deeply curious about that statement, as she was about the rest of him.
“In the short while we have been acquainted, you have alluded to things you have done in this life,” she said. “Although I cannot imagine you being anything other than what you are to me – a strong, honorable knight – tell me why you think you have one foot in hell.”
“Think?” he snorted. “I know.”
“What have you done?”
He let go of her hands, rocking back on his heels and averting his gaze. “That is a question with many answers.”
“Don’t you trust me?”
He cast her a long look suggesting he was displeased with the fact that she’d ably trapped him. She’d shown such trust in him and now she was expecting the same. Clever girl. When she smiled timidly, he simply shook his head with feigned frustration.
“Of course I trust you,” he said. “But why do you wish to know about an old knight like me? I am nothing in the grand scheme of things except that I have sinned more than most.”
“What have you done?”
He grumbled softly, with displeasure, but answered. “I have always been a man of great talent and little remorse,” he said. “Lords and kings have used that combination for, shall we say, unsavory tasks.”
“Like what?”
“You truly wish for an example?”
She nodded, firmly, and he frowned at her.
Still, he dutifully continued. “Very well,” he said.
“You have asked for it. While in The Levant, my cohorts and I were tasked with the abduction of a Muslim general. You met the men I speak of outside, though you probably cannot recall their faces – Kress de Rhydian and Achilles de Dere. The Christian armies called us the Executioner Knights and the Unholy Trinity, among other things. But if there was an impossible task to accomplish, it was given to us. Like the abduction of this general; the Christian commanders believed he was responsible for an ambush of Christian knights outside of the city of Nahala, so my colleagues and I were charged with abducting him and bringing him back alive. You do not want to hear more than that, my lady. Trust me when I tell you it was an unpleasant task.”
But Andressa was listening closely, very interested, indeed. “But I do want to hear more,” she insisted. “At this moment, I still see you as a great and noble knight. I do not think there is anything you could do that is so terrible to shatter that opinion.”
He looked at her, then. “What if I want you to continue believing that?” he asked, his tone suddenly hoarse with emotion. As if he were pleading. “No one has thought such things about me before.”
Andressa felt silent a moment, but it was a thoughtful silence. “No man is perfect unless his name is Christ,” she said. “There are only degrees of mortal perfection and, to many, that is in the eye of the beholder. Did you kill this Muslim general, then?”
“I did, but only when he tried to ambush me. He knew we were coming.”
“Then you did it in self-defense.”
“I also killed his seven-year-old son who stabbed me in the leg with a dagger. Am I still great and honorable to you now?”
She didn’t hesitate. “The boy tried to kill you. Did you have a choice?”
He shook his head, slowly. “Nay,” he said. “I did not because the child had clearly been trained to kill. I told the boy’s mother that right before I slit her throat – I told her that she had raised a killer. Now… do you still think I am great and honorable?”
That gave Andressa pause. “Why did you kill her?”
“So there would be no witnesses to the death of her husband and son.”
It was a blunt, brutal, but truthful answer. Andressa sat back in the chair, pondering what she’d been told. It had been more than she’s bargained for but, oddly enough, it didn’t change her mind about him. She had a rational quality not easily found.
“You were at war,” she said quietly. “I am sure the woman would have killed you if she’d had the chance. She was your enemy and there is no shame in killing an enemy in times of war.”
Maxton shook his head slowly. “That is not why I did it,” he said.
“I did it because I wanted to. Because I did not want to leave her alive. My lady, you do not seem to realize what I am telling you – I am a killer. I am paid to kill men and women, and children if I must. When I tell you that I will remove the Mother Abbess from St. Blitha so she can never again harm anyone, know that I have no such reservations about the fact that she is a woman. It matters not to me. I will do what is necessary, and I mean every word I say.”
Andressa believed him. His confession about the Muslim general and the man’s family opened her eyes to him a little, but the truth was that all she could see was a man fighting to survive. Perhaps it was foolish of her, but that was her opinion.
No one would ever change it.
“I believe you,” she said quietly.
“And you do not think differently about me?”
“Nay.”
Maxton wasn’t surprised to hear that, but he thought she was still a little idealistic about him.
But as he’d said… perhaps he wanted her to think that way about him.
He wanted her to think that he was noble and kind, because God only knew, no one else did.
More and more, the little pledge was breaking down something in him, walls he’d kept up, great things that protected everything about him.
He’d spent years building those walls. But with her, those walls were cracking.
He could feel it.
“As you wish,” he muttered. “Now, I have things to attend to. While I am away, I wish for you to rest and I shall send you food. I must go speak with The Marshal and ask him what he thinks we should do given this situation. Will you wait here while I speak with him?”
Andressa glanced to the window; the sun was starting to set, sending pink ribbons across the sky.
“It will be dark soon,” she said. “I… I told the Mother Abbess that I had to deliver laundry to Lady Hinkley, but even she said that Lady Hinkley often likes to talk and invite the less fortunate to a meal. But Lady Hinkley was very busy with her party tonight and she did not invite me in.”
Maxton was on to her line of thinking. “Then if you stay here a little while and feast with me, the Mother Abbess will think you are with Lady Hinkley.”
Andressa nodded and there seemed to be some relief in her expression. Even a few hours away from that hellish place was a Godsend.
“Aye,” she said after a moment. “She will think that.”
“Then you will stay a little while? I am sure the cook has a very good supper planned.”
That seemed to close the deal for Andressa. Two good meals in one day was nearly unheard of in her world.
“I will stay.”
That pleased Maxton immensely. He stood up, gazing down at her as she sat in the chair. To him, she looked so forlorn and vulnerable. He could only imagine what the woman looked like in all her glory; if she was beautiful now, scrubbed and fed and dressed, she must have been a sight to see.
And that gave him an idea.
“Wait here,” he said. “Do not leave this chamber. Promise?”
She nodded. “I do.”
“I’ll be back.”
With that, he quit the small chamber and she could hear him outside, barking to the servants. Hot water. Food. And build a fire in the retainer’s chamber! Andressa heard him snapping orders, fading away as he went down the stairs, until she could only hear a dull rumble.
Alone and worried, she remained in the chair he’d left her in until there was a knock at the door.
The latch lifted and a servant with wood and peat entered, swiftly moving to the hearth and starting a lovely, warm blaze.
The room filled with a golden glow and when the servant left, Andressa went to the hearth, sitting next to it and warming her frozen body.
The Mother Abbess wouldn’t allow for fires at St. Blitha unless it was snowing, so more often than not, Andressa had to warm herself by the fire she used to heat the water for her laundry. There was no other opportunity.
But now, she was in a warm chamber with a warm fire, basking in a luxury she hadn’t had in four years. It was heavenly. But not heavenly enough that she forgot about her situation, or the fact that she needed to return to St. Blitha soon.
Back into the heart of the Devil.
She prayed she’d done the right thing by seeking out Maxton. God only knew what tomorrow would bring.