Chapter Eighteen #4
Vesper’s eyes widened and she dared to look at Margaretha, who was looking at her son. “If you love her, then I shall, too,” she said. “Go, now. Do not keep Henry waiting.”
Val continued down the stairs without another word, leaving Vesper and Margaretha standing in tense silence.
Margaretha finally turned to Vesper, who was looking at the dark stairwell where Val had disappeared.
She could see the utter devastation in the young woman’s features, the fear for the man she loved heading off into an uncertain future.
Margaretha understood her fears very well, for she had them many a time when Gavin would head off to battle.
“Would you join me for the morning meal, my lady?” she asked. “If we are to know one another, we may as well start now.”
Vesper knew she should accept. She should be gracious and polite and impress Val’s mother. But she couldn’t seem to manage it.
“Nay,” she said after a moment, looking at Margaretha. “Forgive me, my lady, but I… I am going to Winchester with Val. I cannot let him go alone.”
With that, she abruptly turned into her chamber and rushed to her satchel, hauling it up onto the bed as she began yanking clothing out of it. Margaretha, surprised by her declaration, followed her into her chamber but stopped just inside the doorway.
“My lady, that may not be wise,” she said, struggling not to show her anxiety. “Valor would have asked if he had wanted your company.”
Vesper didn’t look at the woman as she yanked off the robe she was wearing to reveal a soft shift beneath.
“He is trying to protect us,” she said. “Of course he would not ask for our company. But I do not need to be protected. I have been alone my entire life, Lady de Nerra. I have spent eight years at Eynsford, living what Val called a polite existence. That is true. But that does not mean I am complacent. If the situation were reversed, Val would not let me go alone. He would not let you go alone. He would go with us and fight for us, and that is precisely what I mean to do. I have never in my life known anyone worth fighting for, but I do now. Val will not go this alone, I swear it. If anyone tries to separate us, I will kill them.”
Margaretha watched as Vesper pulled a dark blue woolen gown over her head, struggling to fasten the stays as she pulled a pair of shoes out from beneath the bed.
The woman was working furiously, trying to prepare herself to go after Val.
Margaretha couldn’t decide if it was a foolish venture or a brave one.
“But what can you do?” Margaretha asked, trying to be logical even though there was a large part of her that wanted to go with Val, too.
“As much as I would also like to attend him, I fear that I would only get in the way. Valor does not need the added complication of an emotional female. And I fear that insisting on going with him might make him feel emasculated, as if he cannot defend himself and need’s a woman’s help. ”
Vesper was trying to fasten her dress and pull a shoe on at the same time.
“If that is true, then I must take that chance,” she said.
“I cannot simply sit back and pray for the best. I must do all I can to ensure Val has someone to fight for him, to support him in his darkest hour. I cannot explain my feelings on the matter any better than this… I had no one until I met Val. I shall not let him go so easily. As he loves me, I love him, and I will fight for that love.”
In spite of herself, a smile spread across Margaretha’s lips.
She was coming to like this girl a great deal, a lass who would fight for her son so fervently.
A lass who loved him, perhaps not as deeply as Margaretha did, but that would come in time.
But they needed to have that time. She walked up behind Vesper and pushed her hands away so she could finish fastening the dress.
“I have a dagger you can bring with you,” she told Vesper. “Keep it on you but do not let anyone know you have it. That will be your secret in case it is needed. Do you have gloves and a cloak?”
Vesper pulled on her other boot as Margaretha finished her stays, pleased that the woman was helping her and not trying to stop her. Not that she had any doubts, to be truthful. Margaretha struck her as fierce that way. “I have a cloak but no gloves,” she said.
“I have some you may borrow. It is cold outside. Wait and I shall return.”
Margaretha darted from the chamber as Vesper quickly found her comb.
Running it through her dark tresses, she braided her hair, tying off the end with a ribbon she had in her satchel.
She was just swinging her cloak over her shoulders when Margaretha rushed back into the chamber and handed her an exquisite dagger with a bejeweled hilt, tucked into a small leather sheath.
When Vesper took it from her, she looked at the woman, seeing an ally in this battle she was about to face.
“Thank you,” she murmured sincerely. “I will not let Val out of my sight, I promise. I will fight for him until the death if I need to.”
Margaretha hadn’t really allowed herself to feel the fear of her son’s situation until she realized how far Vesper was willing to go in order to protect him. She fought the tears that were trying to resurface.
“He is very fortunate to have someone like you, Vesper,” she whispered tightly.
Reaching out, she put her hands on the woman’s shoulders and kissed her on the forehead.
“If I were any younger, I would go with you, but I fear I will only be a burden. Go with my blessing and fight for my boy. You have my undying admiration for doing so.”
Vesper looked into the face of the woman she had only known to be a grim shrew. But now, in this moment, she simply saw a mother who was terrified for her son. On some level, she felt bonded with the woman over their mutual love of Val. She forced a smile.
“I will do my best, I promise,” she said.
Margaretha simply nodded her head, standing aside as Vesper rushed from the chamber.
She could hear the woman moving swiftly down the stairs but, after that, the sounds faded and there was nothing but that terrible silence.
It would kill her, she knew it. She couldn’t simply stand idly by while Val was in such danger.
Even if she was old, as she’d told Vesper, it didn’t mean she shouldn’t do the same thing the young woman was doing.
To fight.
Henry was about to have a battle on his hands.