Chapter 14
Griffith’s eyes were gritty from lack of sleep. All night he’d lain awake, thoughts of Kallen flooding his mind. He still sensed her touch. Tasted her sweetness. Felt her melting into his body.
Why had he told her he would ask Crispin for permission to court her? It could never be. Not after what Crispin revealed to him before Griffith left on this mission.
Kallen would hate him for it. She might hate Crispin once she learned of his plans for her.
If only he’d been loyal to Carina’s memory…
If he had, Griffith wouldn’t be in such a quandary. Yet at this moment, despite his weariness, life flowed through his body. An excitement. Anticipation of what the new day would bring.
Griffith was tired of being dead inside. Tired of the risks he took, simply because he cared not for this world anymore.
Kallen brought a renewed spirit to him, an interest in what was around the next corner. He grew up, always knowing it would be Carina for him. He never pictured his life without her. When she died, part of him died, too.
Now Kallen entered his life. Griffith finally realized that he could be true to the memories of his beloved wife and still rejoin the living. He was young. Sooner or later, he would inherit his father’s title. He could build a new life, with a new wife by his side.
And perhaps children. Almost more than Carina’s death, he regretted life had been snuffed from their babe. He loved children and never admitted aloud to anyone he still longed for them. He could have a chance at happiness, a family, with a woman he cared for.
He wouldn’t yet believe ‘twas love he felt for Kallen. He was taken by her beauty, charmed by her innocence, intoxicated by her kisses. But he wouldn’t put a name to his feelings.
Not yet. Especially when he knew what Crispin had in store for her.
Griffith decided in that moment that Kallen was worth fighting for. Crispin was as much a brother to him as if they shared the same blood. He would make Crispin understand that he needed Kallen by his side.
Griffith needed to live again in this world. Kallen had made him realize that. Their fates were joined. Now he must figure out a way they could be together.
“Thank you again, my lord, my lady, for extending your hospitality to our party.” Griffith bowed his head in acknowledgment.
“We were delighted to entertain you, Sir Griffith. And especially grateful to introduce Lady Kallen to the old traditions surrounding All Hallow’s Eve.” Percival inclined his head in return. “Give our best wishes to Lord and Lady de Mangeron.”
“I shall.” Griffith mounted Satan and scanned the group on horseback. All were accounted for. “I bid you a good day.”
He turned his horse, and the others followed him through the gate. He signaled Rodger to ride ahead.
As they trotted along, he fell back to the middle so as to be next to Kallen. He looked her in the face for the first time since their private moments together last night and caught a shy smile from her.
“’Tis a cool but fortunately sunny day, my lady. We should make good time.”
“I think the rest from our journey did everyone good,” she replied. “I agree that we will be able to ride far today.”
Griffith nodded. “Let me know how you fare. I realize ‘tis only your second day alone on horseback. If you need to call a halt to rest, you need but ask.”
“I shall.”
They spent a pleasant morning discussing many things. Despite the group of men that surrounded them, it seemed Griffith rode alone with Kallen. Her observations delighted him, and he laughed aloud several times as she told stories about life in the convent.
They stopped in the early afternoon for a brief respite. Lady Percival had provided fresh bread and cheese and flasks of wine for their party, which prevented them from stopping to shoot game for their food. If they could do the same for the evening meal, they could ride much later than usual.
As they continued on their way, Kallen began to sing. She was quite dreadful, but the men cheerfully joined in with her song. Griffith could not remember the last time he sang. It had to be before Carina’s death. He sang along with them, much to Kallen’s delight.
“You have a rich baritone, my lord. You should sing more often.”
Griffith thought how he’d once composed poetry and set the words to music for his wife. That part of him seemingly died with Carina, but as he sang, he realized how much he enjoyed it.
Just another gift you’ve returned to me, Kallen.
They stopped for the night after many hours on the road. Griffith was ready. His lack of sleep bothered him. He set up the shifts for guard duty, allowing himself to sleep for the first few hours.
He fell asleep listening to Kallen’s throaty laugh as she wove another tale for the men gathered about the campfire.
Screams woke him from a dead sleep. Griffith leaped to his feet quickly, his hand unsheathing his sword. His eyes swept over the camp as men joined him, ready to meet whatever challenge confronted them.
“Who’s on duty?” he called gruffly.
“Simmons and Cuthbert,” Rodger quickly replied.
A scream tore through the dark night again, followed by a rustling. Griffith pointed to the two men closest to Kallen. Her face was a ghostly white.
“Stay with her. Let not a hair on her head be harmed.”
He advanced quickly, the others following him, to the perimeter of the camp. Cuthbert lay on the ground, clutching his leg, writhing in pain.
Griffith bent, the smell of blood assailing his senses.
“Boar,” croaked Cuthbert. “Came from nowhere.”
Griffith motioned, and two men bent to take Cuthbert back to the camp. He continued until he found Simmons, less than twenty feet away.
Simmons wheezed as he spoke. “Ran as... fast as could. Saw wild boar gored Cuthbert. Got me. Sorry.”
Griffith lay a hand on the soldier’s shoulder. “No apologies. We must move you and check your wounds.” He stood and pointed to two men.
“Return him to camp. Carefully. The rest of us will find this boar.”
A sudden thrashing caught their attention, as the very boar emerged from the woods.
It headed straight in Kallen’s direction.
Griffith charged the animal, his sword raised.
He came into the path it ran and plunged his sword into the creature’s eye.
The boar’s screech echoed eerily through the woods.
Then all was quiet.
The smell of fresh blood assaulted Griffith’s senses immediately. He yanked the embedded sword from the animal as the others caught up to him, in awe of his actions. Men slapped him on the back, congratulating him for such swift thinking and bravery.
Griffith trembled under the barrage of compliments.
He’d acted so quickly because the boar threatened Kallen’s life.
In an instant he’d pictured her gored as Cuthbert, her perfect skin marred with blood, her life ebbing away.
The thought made him insane. He’d charged the boar, wanting to protect her at all costs.
He squatted on the ground and rested his head against a knee.
Suddenly, the scent of lavender invaded his senses.
“Are you all right, my lord?” Kallen called breathlessly. She threw an arm about his shoulders as she knelt beside him. His tremors stopped.
He was safe—because she was.
Griffith raised his eyes to meet hers. He longed to take her in his arms, reaffirm they lived, kiss her senseless. Instead, he nodded.
“I am fine, my lady. The boar is not.”
The knights surrounding them chuckled. Griffith’s heart slowed from its racing pace.
“We must look after our injured,” he told her.
“Let me help. Travelers often stopped at the convent for aid. I have cared for fevers and wounds of all types.”
He stood and helped her to her feet. “I need hot water and wine,” she said. “Marigolds if they can be found. Clean cloth for fresh bandages. Now.”
The men moved quickly at her orders. Griffith marveled as he saw a new side to Kallen de Mangeron.
They found themselves alone for a moment. Kallen reached out a hand. Griffith took it, its warmth bringing him comfort. He brought it to his mouth and kissed her open palm. A blistering heat erupted inside him. He saw the shock on her face.
“I never knew such strong emotions existed,” she said in wonder.
And despite the fact he’d loved Carina with all his heart, his wife never stirred such feelings within him. Griffith stared intensely at Kallen.
“Nor I, sweetheart. Never have I been so moved by a woman as I am by you.”
She flashed a brilliant smile. It slowly died as she grew more serious. “Let us see to your men.”
They returned to the campfire. Water boiled as instructed. Simmons and Cuthbert were placed upon clean blankets next to one another. Kallen asked for a knife and cut away their clothes so she could examine each man’s wounds.
“So much blood,” she whispered. Aloud, she spoke comforting words to both men, moving from one to the other. She cleaned their wounds with first the heated water and then some of the wine.
“Listen to me,” she addressed both of the wounded men, her hands clasping theirs. “The punctures must be cauterized. It will hurt—mayhap as much as when the boar gored you. But this must be done to prevent infection. May I have your permission?”
Simmons merely nodded and closed his eyes, moaning softly. Cuthbert smiled up at Kallen.
“’Tis a might prettier sight you are than that boar, my lady. Do as you must.”
Kallen told Griffith, “Please place the blade of your dagger in the fire. As much of the blade as you can. If the hilt gets hot, I can wrap a cloth about it for protection.”
Griffith did as she instructed while Kallen designated men to hold the injured down. She gestured for Griffith to bring her the knife. He bunched a cloth about its hilt and took it to her.
“I wish I had new eggs to rub on them. The whites are a soothing balm.”
“Just do the best you can,” he reassured her. “You could save their lives.”
Kallen took a deep breath and wrapped her hands around the dagger’s hold. She brought it to Cuthbert’s thigh and pressed it into the wound. He struggled a minute before fainting from the pain. Kallen then poured more wine over it and wrapped the leg in fresh linen.
She moved to Simmons, whose wound seemed more serious to Griffith, and repeated her actions against the soldier’s side.
Then she took their hands in hers again and chanted, “In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Mary. The wound was red, the cut deep, the flesh be sore, but there will be no more blood or pain till the Blessed Virgin bears a child again.”
All watched her work in silence, knowing but for God’s grace they might be one of the injured men lying there.
Kallen stood and looked about her. “Did you find any marigolds?” she asked Rodger.
“Yes, my lady.” He indicated a bunch gathered on the ground.
“Drop these in the water and then remove the water from the fire. When it cools, I’ll try to have them drink.”
“What will that do?” asked Griffith, puzzled by the process.
“They will soon have a fever. The marigolds will help reduce it.”
Griffith arranged for two men to continue to stand guard the rest of the night. He himself helped Kallen try to get the men to drink the doctored water as the hours passed.
Dawn broke and with it, Cuthbert’s fever. Simmons was delirious by this time.
“We cannot travel for several days,” Kallen informed Griffith. “They will have no chance to survive if we do. They must not be moved.”
Griffith shook his head. “We must press on. I cannot tolerate delay.”
He thought at how their numbers were reduced from ten knights to eight. He would need to leave another one or possibly two men with the injured. That would leave their number at six, with himself making seven, to see Kallen safely back to Mangeron.
“Then we leave them. I know of no surrounding castles nearby. Two of our number will remain behind to care for them.”
Kallen nodded. He guessed she knew well enough not to argue with his decision.
“Choose the two who will stay. I must give them instructions. They must know how to change the bandages and what to look for in case infection sets in.”
Griffith signaled and two soldiers hurried toward him. “You are to stay and care for these injured men. Lady Kallen will give you specific orders on what to do. I shall send help from the first castle we pass. Mayhap they can spare a litter for when the men can be moved.”
Both soldiers reported to Kallen. Griffith had the others prepare for their immediate departure. They packed up quickly, leaving some food and the burning campfire for those remaining behind.
Kallen finished speaking with the men and turned to Griffith. “I am ready.”
“I know you are tired, my lady, after so little sleep, but we must continue on. Your uncle expects it.”
“I understand.”
She moved toward Carrie. Griffith caught her elbow.
“I must ask you to ride with me. We are fewer in number,” he explained, “and the threat of any danger is thus greater. I know you’ve enjoyed riding your own mount, but you will be easier to protect if you are with me. Would you agree to this?”
Kallen’s gray eyes showed a bit of sparkle, the first he’d seen in hours.
“’Twould suit me well.” Her face remained solemn, but her eyes now danced in anticipation.
She followed him to Satan and stroked the horse’s mane. “I’ll expect you to behave,” she told the horse. She looked directly at Griffith and said softly, “That means both of you.”
Griffith hid a smile as he mounted and lifted her up into the saddle. He gave her a minute to settle herself before they rode out.
His arms encircled around Kallen now, relief swept through him. He knew, though, he must be on guard for whatever might occur on the remainder of their journey.