Chapter Twenty-Three #2
Trevor’s eyes closed again. “He did not seem to be,” he whispered.
“But de Ferrer did not survive… I saw him fall. After that… the battle lasted all night and the next day, too. Those who did not flee were killed. There were bodies of the dead everywhere. I did not see de Bermingham or Victor or de Noble again once the battle waned. But I found this.”
Clumsily, he reached into his torn and bloodied vest and pulled forth a piece of material. He held it up to Emllyn and she immediately recognized it; Everything leads me to thee. It was the embroidery she had given Devlin on their wedding day.
Emllyn stared at it; it was muddied and torn, as if had been stepped on and buried in the dirt.
As she stared at it, she could feel Merradoc’s hand on her arm.
He was pulling gently at her, trying to force her to stand up, but she couldn’t hear him.
She was in a fog, a fog that swathed her in memories and reflections, something that prevented her from screaming out as she saw the symbol of her love for Devlin crumpled in her hand.
It was a fog of self-protection, a pain too deep for tears.
In one swift motion, her heart was ripped out and she hadn’t even felt it.
She was hollow.
“Emllyn,” Trevor was grasping at her. “I do not know where your husband may be. When O’Byrne fled, I know that several men went after them.
De Bermingham might have been among those who gave chase.
I simply do not know. I was chasing the last of the O’Byrne out when I was gored.
I… I knew I had to make it back here to tell you what I saw. ”
Emllyn was still staring at the fabric but she heard Trevor’s words. In her haze of sorrow, it was all she heard.
“Thank you,” she murmured. She realized she was still holding onto his hand and she squeezed it tightly. “If… if you did not see his body, then he must be somewhere else. He is not dead.”
“Nay… he is not,” Trevor said, although he wasn’t entirely sure that was true. He simply said it for Emllyn’s sake. “It was so chaotic in the battle that it was possible your favor fell and he didn’t even realize it. You… you will tell him something when next you see him.”
“What would you have me tell him?”
Trevor was so weak that he could no longer hold on to her. He couldn’t even keep his eyes open. “You will tell him… tell him that it was a privilege to serve under Black Sword.”
Emllyn watched him take two more breaths and then he was gone. Clutching Devlin’s wedding embroidery against her chest, she wept deep and painful tears for the man who had brought her and Devlin together.
*
They buried Trevor in Glenteige’s small cemetery, placing him in a lovely spot near an oak tree that had been there for hundreds of years.
It was peaceful and serene. After the burial, Emllyn sat next to the grave for the rest of the day, pondering Trevor’s short life and wondering if she would soon be sitting next to Devlin’s grave as well.
The embroidery Trevor had returned to her had become a permanent part of her body, as much as a finger or an ear.
It was clasped in her left hand, never to leave it.
When she held it, she felt very close to Devlin.
Merradoc and Elyse had sat with her next to the grave.
Elyse had sobbed the entire time, having been told the story that Trevor had relayed to Emllyn.
She had seen the embroidery in Emllyn’s hand and she wept over the missing men, including her beloved Connaught.
Having heard of Black Castle’s complete destruction, she was terrified for the man and also for her father.
Holding Emllyn’s free hand, she had wept deeply of her fear.
Towards sunset, Merradoc managed to coerce Emllyn back into the keep and Elyse followed.
He took both women into Elyse’s fine solar where he ordered warmed wine and food for them.
Elyse picked at the food but didn’t actually eat much; she was too distraught.
Emllyn was a shell of her former self, sitting like a stone and staring off into nothingness.
Merradoc managed to coax her into drinking some wine and she did.
By the third cup, Merradoc put a sleeping potion into the drink when she wasn’t looking and by the time she was finished with the fourth and final cup, she could hardly keep her eyes open.
Merradoc did the same thing for Elyse and soon, he had two unconscious women on his hands. He breathed sigh of relief.
It was very late by the time he made it down to de Noble’s solar for some solitude of his own.
He’d spent so much time healing the injured, burying the dead, and tending emotional women that he was quite exhausted himself.
He had no idea what had become of de Noble and de Bermingham and Connaught, but he hoped they would know the truth soon.
He doubted that Lady de Bermingham could take much more waiting and he knew that Elyse was doubly upset with the unknown whereabouts of both her father and lover.
As he sat in de Noble’s solar and drank the man’s fine brandywine, he found himself praying for a miracle.
But prayer and brandywine didn’t mix because he drank far too much of it and ended up passing out, his head lying on de Noble’s desk. He had no idea how long he’d been asleep when he felt someone shake him.
“Merradoc?” came a familiar male voice. “God’s Bones, Merradoc, get up. Stop drooling like a drunkard all over my vellum.”
Merradoc sat up with a start, blinking rapidly to clear the sleep from his eyes.
The room was very dark but he could see bodies moving around in the darkness.
Grabbing for the flint next to the taper near his right hand, he struck it so hard that he nearly broke it but the sparks were enough to light the taper.
As the flame took hold in the darkness of the room, he could see three men standing before him.
De Noble, Connaught, and Victor St. John.
“De Noble!” Merradoc shot up from his seat, his eyes wide with shock. “You have returned!”
De Noble was filthy and bloodied, but he was in one piece. He scowled at the physic. “Indeed I have,” he scolded. “I have returned to find that you have taken over my solar. Get out of that seat, you whelp. This is my desk and my seat.”
Mouth hanging agape, Merradoc did as he was told.
He thought he actually might be dreaming until de Noble gave him a shove because he wasn’t moving fast enough.
It was enough of a jolt to make him realize that he wasn’t, in fact, dreaming.
He was very much awake, and de Noble and his men were returned. Excitement filled him.
“Connaught!” he gasped at the young knight who looked disheveled but very alive. “And St. John! You are all returned!”
Victor had several day’s growth on his face and a big bandage on his left hand. “Indeed we are,” he said tiredly. “Were is Emllyn?”
Merradoc pointed to the floor above. “She and the Lady Elyse are in Lady Elyse’s solar,” he said. “I had to give them a sleeping draught. They have been so overwrought with worry that I had to make them sleep.”
Connaught smiled wearily. “So Elyse was worried over me, was she?”
Merradoc nodded sincerely. “Very much so,” he said. “And if she tells you otherwise, she’s a liar and you can tell her I said so. She was mad with worry over you.”
“And what about me?” A voice came from the doorway. “Was no one mad with worry over me?”