Chapter 25 #2
I first became aware that something was wrong when I heard rumors of defeat from the servants, whispering together in dark corners, though they grew silent as I approached them.
I waited for Papa to tell me what had happened.
But to him, I was merely a tool to be used to ally himself with others.
He had no use for me other than to keep me alive for de Tourrard.
The atmosphere thickened, but neither the servants nor the men-at-arms were willing to speak to me of it.
But, at length, word of de Tourrard’s return reached my ears. He had failed in his attempt to overthrow Henry. William de Blois had betrayed him and even now, Henry’s men were on their way to seize Shoreton. One of the men mentioned a name I had heard before—de Beauvane.
I heard de Tourrard’s voice long before I saw him.
His angry words echoed around the bailey, ordering the men to turn the villagers out of the grounds then secure the drawbridge and prepare for a siege. Shortly after, the door to the solar flew open. Covered in grime and sweat, body taut with rage, he advanced toward me.
“So you have failed.” I spoke quietly.
Had he shown outward signs of emotion I would have feared him less, but even in the throes of limitless anger he remained controlled, each movement deliberate, serving a specific purpose. He reached toward me and caressed my collarbone before securing his fingers around my neck.
“I. Will. Not. Fail.”
“We cannot withstand a siege,” I said. “We’re not prepared. The foodstores…”
“…have enough to keep my men and I alive for a month. We will hold out.”
“But the servants, the villagers. What of them?”
“They are expendable.”
“No!” I cried but was silenced as he drew his hand back from my throat and backhanded me so forcefully across the face that I fell across the bed. Pain exploded in my head, and I reached up to find my nose sticky with blood.
“Do not question me.”
“In the name of God, Wulfric, give up,” I pleaded. “Henry is the rightful king. Surrender to him and he may show leniency. Continue with this folly and every soul at Shoreton will die.”
“I said, do not question me!”
My scalp felt as if it had burst into flame as he grasped my hair with his fist and dragged me off the bed.
“You continue to be in need of instruction with regards to your behavior.”
His voice was so calm that I did not anticipate the next blow.
His boot connected with my arm, and I heard a crack as the bone fractured.
A fire burned in my belly; my body ripped apart from the inside, and I heard a woman screaming while he chided me for disobedience.
I tried to crawl away but my limbs would not respond, as if stone blocks weighted me to the ground.
I pushed against the floor, sending a bolt of fire down my arm until a final blow to my head silenced the screaming, ended the pain, and brought forth peace.
I was drowning in the dark. My other senses were invaded, overloaded, and fire ripped through my body. Pain, always the pain, then warmth and the aroma of lavender, which grew stronger as I pulled my mind from oblivion.
“Lady!” A woman’s voice.
I opened my eyes but saw only blurred images, ominous gray swirls.
Memories of Maman and Percy floated above me— they had visited me again while I burned in the fire. Something touched my arm, and I moaned in pain. The gray faded to black.
The next time I opened my eyes I saw color—soft brown shapes. They moved in front of my eyes until they sharpened into the form of a woman.
“Elspeth?” I crocked.
“Lady! Thank the Lord!”
I sat up, slowly, ignoring my aching body. I waved away her protests and motioned to her to help me into a chair by the fireplace. I hated the bed—the bed I shared with de Tourrard.
“What happened, Elspeth?”
“My lord said you suffered a fall and ordered me to tend to you. I-I thought you’d never wake up. I’ve been tending you for four days. You took a fever after you lost…” she hesitated, “…after you fell. He was so angry with us for using the water to bathe you…”
She broke off, her voice trailing away.
“Has something else happened?” I asked.
She gave a low cry and dropped to her knees.
“Oh, my lady! You lost the babe.”
“The babe?”
“Forgive me. You were already bleeding when we found you.”
Lord save me, I had been carrying de Tourrard’s child.
“Does he know?”
“Aye,” she whispered. “He is to join you when you have woken. You’re to be confined here until then.”
I felt numb. Numb with shock at the prospect of having de Tourrard’s seed take root in my body and numb with the pain of losing another child. I would have to summon all my courage to face him again.
I took the maidservant’s hand and kissed it.
“Thank you for taking care of me, Elspeth.”
She nodded, fear still glistening in her eyes.
“Something else is wrong is it not?” I asked her. “Why would he be angry about the water?”
“We are under siege. The well is nearly empty.”
“Siege!”
“Aye,” she sobbed. “Shoreton has been surrounded for four days. They came almost as soon as de Tourrard returned. The men say the castle will fall soon. There is food aplenty without the villagers here but the water… I don’t know what we will do if my lord does not yield.”
“We will burn,” I whispered, remembering Mortlock Fort.
Burning might be the kinder death. Kinder, and quicker. With the well running dry, disease would spread more quickly than a flame. But death would be slower, the agony more prolonged.
De Tourrard would never surrender. Shoreton would be destroyed along with the people within its walls. I could only hope that Henry’s men would let the servants go free. But for me, there was only one way out.
“Elspeth,” I said, my throat tightening with urgency, “there is one thing you can do for me.”
“Anything, my lady.”
“You must dress me first. I want to be ready for my lord when he comes.”
As the sun began to set on my last day in this world, a servant brought a tray of bread and wine to the solar and told me that de Tourrard would attend me shortly.
I tasted the wine and wrinkled my nose. As I suspected, the better quality wine had all gone, the remainder having to be spiced to mask its sourness.
But it would serve my purpose better. I took out the phial Elspeth had brought and emptied the contents into one of the goblets before filling it to the brim.
The honey and ginger in the wine would disguise the sweet taste of the poison.
Then, I prayed to the Almighty that instead of condemning me to hell for taking my own life, He would show my soul mercy and reunite me with those I loved.
Closing my eyes, I lifted the goblet to my lips.