Chapter Twelve #2
Gart sighed heavily. “I do not disagree with some of your concerns, but it is not as if we are asking the woman to do anything differently,” he said.
“All William wants is for her to return to her usual tasks and behave in her usual way. He’s not asking her to save the king, for God’s sake.
Stop acting like he’s sending the woman to her death. ”
Maxton didn’t say anything. He’d already said enough, and the truth was that he was confused about his passionate defense of Andressa.
He’d never felt so protective over anything, or anyone, in his entire life.
He felt as if he wanted to wrap his arms around her and shield her from the world, this fragile blossom that was so broken and bruised.
Now, he was becoming embarrassed, trying to think of a way to explain his behavior.
The trouble was, he couldn’t. Not even to himself.
“I told him I would send her back and I will,” he rumbled. “I am expected to be obedient and I shall be. But do not expect me to like it.”
Gart didn’t have anything more to say to that.
He passed a glance at Kress and Achilles and Alexander before he left the chamber, silently suggesting they talk some sense into stubborn Maxton.
As Gart followed William’s path from the chamber, the trio of comrades surrounded Maxton as the man stood there and fumed.
“Max, what is going on?” Alexander asked. “Why defend this girl so passionately? What is she to you?”
Maxton’s guard came down a little now that he was surrounded by his close friends. Running his hand through his dark hair, he simply shook his head.
“I do not know,” he said. “Mayhap I feel some pity for the woman. She’s had a difficult life, yet there is a spark of strength in her eyes that I can see every time I speak with her.
She is an heiress, you know. Her inheritance was stolen from her by a greedy aunt, her guardian upon her parents’ death, who proceeded to throw her into the rubbish heap of St. Blitha.
She has existed at St. Blitha for the past four years and she seems so helpless. As if she needs a friend.”
“And you wish to be that friend?” Alexander asked quietly.
Maxton hesitated a moment before nodding.
“It sounds odd, I know,” he said. “I have spent my whole life ignoring women like her, so why is she any different from the rest? Because I know her name. Because she endeared herself to me. She gave me a glimpse into this terrible world she lives in and she trusts me. And she has absolutely no one she can talk to; no family, no friends. No one at all. I am fortunate in that I have you three and although I cannot get rid of you, at least I have you. And I love you all for it.”
He’d meant the last few sentences with some humor, so there were smiles all around.
But there was also a distinct sense of surprise because Maxton wasn’t one to show emotion.
He was as hard as they came, or at least he had been until their experience in the dungeons at Les Baux-de-Provence.
That’s when those close to him had noticed a change, as they’d mentioned several times.
Maxton had become more philosophical, more introspective.
It had been an odd change for one with a stone where his heart should have been.
Maxton was changing.
“Max,” Kress said, his gaze lingering on the man, perhaps seeing him through new eyes.
“It is no secret that we thought you’d lost your mind during the time we spent at Les Baux-de-Provence, and even afterwards.
You became far more thoughtful, speaking to priests and old men, philosophers – anyone you could that could give you a perspective on life.
You are no longer the man with the soul of the mindless killer. ”
Maxton knew what Kress was talking about, although it really wasn’t something he’d ever acknowledged. But here, at this moment, he found it necessary to speak on such things.
“Nay,” he agreed. “I am a killer with an awareness, which makes me even more dangerous. Do you want to know why I spoke with holy men and apothecaries and physics? Because I want to understand more than I have ever understood before. There is more to this life than what we have lived – there is joy and happiness and innocence, something that is very rare in our world. And mayhap, that is why Andressa fascinates me so much – she has that innocence, but the joy and happiness has been taken from her. It would be so easy to bring it back. I have the power of death; I prove that every day. But the power of peace and joy? That, so far, has been something that has eluded me.”
“And you see a chance for that with Andressa?” Kress pressed gently.
Maxton shook his head, emitting a heavy sigh. “I do not know,” he admitted. “I have been asking myself that over the course of the day. I have literally only known the woman for a day, but something about her has gotten under my skin. I cannot explain it any better than that.”
Kress looked at Achilles and Alexander, who had much the same expression as he did on their faces. It was genuine surprise. Achilles, the most introspective of the four of them, spoke softly.
“God works in mysterious ways, Max,” he said. “But remember that the woman is a pledge, meaning her guardian has consigned her to God. If you want to change that, then you must speak to her guardian.”
Maxton held up a hand. “I did not say I wanted to change her status,” he said.
“I do not even know if I want to change mine. But I am… curious. I am in the grip of something I do not understand, but it is not something I can explore at the moment. My oath to my profession is above all and, at the moment, we have a task on our hands. I must finish it before I can and will consider anything else.”
That was the Maxton they knew and they were pleased to hear that his devotion to his knighthood was still intact no matter the confusion over a woman that he may have been feeling. Kress patted him on the shoulder.
“That is good to hear,” he said. “Because, certainly, we have a task on our hands and I believe you have a pledge to return to St. Blitha now. We shall leave you to that task.”
Maxton simply nodded, watching the three of them file out of the solar, leaving it cold and still in their wake.
The sun was completely down now and there were a few tapers lit in the chamber, but the hearth was dark.
It was only when a servant entered the room, thinking it was empty of the knights, that Maxton went to seek Andressa.
In truth, he was dreading it.
He didn’t want to let her return to that horrific place, but he had little choice. Deep down, he understood why William wanted her back at St. Blitha and it made sense to him. The trick would be asking Andressa to do the unthinkable when she returned.
To spy.
The door to the retainer’s chamber loomed before him. Gathering his courage, he would do what needed to be done.
*
The garment was the color of wine.
Andressa couldn’t take her eyes off it as an older serving woman brought it in and laid it upon the chair next to the hearth.
The woman smiled kindly at Andressa and told her that Sir Maxton had ordered clean clothes and a bath for her, something that greatly confused Andressa.
Why should she need clean clothing and a bath?
She had to return to St. Blitha, and she certainly couldn’t do it in clothing that did not belong to her.
But then, she started to think about it… a bath. Something clean to wear. God only knew how long it had been since she’d had either. While at Okehampton, Lady de Courtney had insisted on cleanliness, so her charges bathed regularly and their clothing was always clean.
In fact, Andressa had never even experienced vermin during that time – no vermin on the body or in the hair, no vermin in the beds or linens, but at St. Blitha, vermin were the norm.
It was in the clothing, in the bedding, but Andressa had spent a great deal of time boiling her own bedding and clothing, trying to stay away from the other nuns who suspiciously itched.
Vermin traveled, but she kept things that touched her body as clean as she could and, although she’d seen other nuns and pledges with the red rash that foretold of vermin, Andressa had been careful enough to avoid it for the most part.
But it had been a struggle.
Therefore, when the old serving woman came into the chamber with clean clothing and talk of a bath, Andressa didn’t hesitate for long.
She almost wanted the bath more than the food.
She wasn’t dedicated to the cloister enough to refuse the clean comfort of the material world, so she stood in the corner as several servants entered the chamber with a big copper basin.
She didn’t utter a word of protest when they filled it, sending steam into the chamber.
She was ready, willing, and able to wash herself when the servants left.
“I’ll take your clothing and have it washed, m’lady.” The old serving woman was the only one left, holding out her arms to Andressa. “Let me take your garments and while they are being cleaned, you can wear the clothing I brought you.”
The lure of worldly comforts was almost too much for Andressa to take. Her gaze was on the steaming water. “There is no time to clean my clothing properly,” she said. “It will take time to dry out and I do not have such time.”
The servant didn’t give up. “Then let me take it and clean what I can,” she said. “Clean the spots off of it, as it were.”