Chapter 27 #2
At night I would wake, crying with pain, to find myself in Oliver’s arms. He shushed me to sleep, silencing the protests from the men I had woken.
The injuries from de Tourrard’s beating were healing but the burns to my legs penetrated my dreams. About halfway to our destination.
I woke, screaming from a nightmare, crying out for Percy.
Thinking he stood before me, my eyes cleared then I recognized Oliver, his expression laced with concern.
“Hush lady, you are safe.”
“Percy…”
“No, lady. ’Tis Oliver. Who is Percy?”
“A young man unfortunate enough to have secured my friendship,” I sighed. “Mortlock had him executed. He put his head on a pike for all to see and made me take my meal sitting next to the poor man’s severed head. The world is full of evil, Oliver.”
“Aye, my lady,” he said, his voice grave. “There is much evil in the world, but also great good. Do not fear de Beauvane. Your fortunes changed for the better the day he took you into his care.”
When we reached our destination the sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows across the road.
A soft pink glow illuminated the stones of a huge building which stood on a raised area of land, surrounded by a high bailey wall.
Built after Duke William’s invasion, the castle had been constructed from a combination of English stones and lighter colored stones brought over from France, giving it a banded appearance.
A wide moat surrounded the castle and the horses’ hooves clattered against the wooden drawbridge as we crossed it.
The castle courtyard was full of people; villagers and servants alike.
They greeted their lord enthusiastically, welcoming him home.
De Beauvane clearly commanded great love and loyalty among his people, ruling them with respect rather than the fear I had grown up with.
Who was de Beauvane? And what would such a man want with me?
The party dismounted, handing the horses to the grooms and squires who had come running as soon as our arrival had been announced.
A tall, slender woman stood at the main doorway.
She was dressed in a purple surcoat over a gown of blue silk, her graying hair almost completely covered by her wimple.
She held out her hands and spoke in a soft voice.
“Husband.”
De Beauvane clasped her hands and kissed her full on the mouth before taking her in his arms. I stood back, reluctant to intrude on their reunion.
The love they shared was obvious, and I couldn’t help the little spike of envy in my heart.
How different might my life have been had Papa married me to such a man!
De Beauvane released his wife and beckoned to me. With Oliver’s support I limped toward her.
“Adelia, I present to you my mistress.”
I hung my head in shame, but she looked at me with kindness in her eyes and took my hands.
“Nay, I cannot do this.” I tried to withdraw, but she pulled me close and embraced me.
“Come, child, you are my guest and are most welcome. I have a chamber prepared for you. You must be exhausted, you poor dear, and I can see you are hurt.”
“How can you be so kind to me?” I asked.
“Because you have nothing to be ashamed of. And please call me Adelia, if I may be permitted to call you Lisetta?”
I nodded, and she smiled again. Her soft, caring manner reminded me of Maman.
“Oliver,” she said, “help Lisetta to her chamber.”
“Aye, my lady.”
Oliver lifted me in his arms, kindness shining in his soft brown eyes. He reminded me so much of poor Percy, and I rejoiced in his fortune at having a kinder lord than Percy’s. He followed Adelia into the building where she led us to a bedchamber.
The chamber was warm and welcoming, a fire blazing in the hearth.
Tapestries lined the walls depicting gentle landscapes.
A solid oak bed covered with thick furs dominated the room.
At a word from Adelia, Oliver placed me on the bed.
We had been followed by two maidservants.
Adelia instructed one woman to undress me and nodded to the other who held out a goblet, filled with ruby red liquid. I pushed the goblet away.
“Lady Adelia, your husband said he would explain all when we arrived here.”
“Drink first,” she insisted. “You’re in no state to discuss anything.”
I lifted the goblet to my lips and swallowed.
The liquid warmed my throat, and I let out a sigh, as the world shifted out of focus.
Reason told me that de Beauvane would hardly risk the king’s wrath to prevent my execution then carry me halfway across England, only to poison me as soon as I reached his home.
But I dropped the goblet and tried to stand.
Adelia placed a gentle hand on my shoulder and pushed me back.
“Shhh, rest now,” she said. “You are under our protection and will not be harmed. We can discuss matters when you are rested.”
A warm blanket of sleep overtook me and my eyes lost focus. The patterns on the tapestries morphed into dancing whorls of blue and gray, spinning slowly to an inaudible rhythm.
In the distance Adelia’s musical voice spoke while her gentle fingers caressed my forehead.
“Nay, she is not well, but she will recover. Trust us. She is in good hands.”
A low murmur joined her voice. I struggled to hear the words but my body sank under the bed furs.
The last thing I saw before I finally closed my eyes, were the whorls of blue which spiraled together, forming two intense pools before darkness claimed me once again.
If this was death at de Beauvane’s hands, it was far gentler than the death I had been expecting.