Chapter Eleven #4
“He’s got some wounds, but nothing so serious as the cut on his leg.
We’ve cleaned him and made him comfortable, but the fever has him.
It will be touch and go for the next few hours,” Stephen said.
“It was smart of you to tell us. We’ve cleaned his wound as best we can and are using maggots and leeches to eat the dying flesh.
But it will be down to God’s grace as to whether or not he will live.
” He shrugged. “Anyway. The queen needs to be informed.”
“Why not send a page?”
“Not many pages come to the infirmary, except to bid Master Reynolds to dinner. I mean to go there now and thought I’d come by and say hello first.”
“Nice to properly meet you.”
Bronwyn nodded her head farewell to him when Christopher approached and held out a platter of rolls.
“There’s been a request for sweet bread rolls.
I’m too busy to do it and I can’t find any pages anywhere.
Take these to the queen.” He looked her up and down.
“And wipe your face. You’ve got something on your chin. ”
Bronwyn took the platter and hastily wiped her chin with her sleeve.
John said, “Shall we walk together, then?”
“Good idea.”
Bronwyn asked one of the other cooks to mind her broth for a few minutes and set off. She vaguely remembered the way to the queen’s chambers and walked confidently through the corridor until they reached her door. Before the guards, the young man swallowed.
“What is it?” Bronwyn asked.
“I’ve never spoken with a queen before,” he said. “What do I say?”
She started to smile and then saw his serious expression. “Wait until she addresses you. She will lead the conversation.”
He nodded. To the guards, he said, “We need to speak with the queen.” His voice was higher pitched, which earned him a smirk from the guards.
“She ordered bread from the kitchen. And he is a physician,” Bronwyn said. “May we pass?”
The guards looked at her, him, then the platter she held. Without a word, they lowered their swords. Bronwyn opened the door and stepped inside.
The queen was there with Mistress Agatha, Lady Susanna, and Lady Muriel, although Lady Alice was not present. Queen Matilda said, “Ah, Bronwyn. Thank you for bringing the rolls. I have a fondness for them. And who is this?” She eyed the youth. “A brother of yours?”
Bronwyn shook her head. “Nay, Your Grace. This is John Tynsdale, a physician.”
The ladies smiled and tittered behind their hands. Agatha said, “He looks like a child.”
“I work in the infirmary,” John said, turning red. “Your Grace, we have a prisoner there.”
“What do I care of prisoners? They are casualties of war.” She tapped her hand impatiently on the wooden arm rest of her chair.
“This is Sir Robert of Gloucester, Your Grace.”
Queen Matilda froze. She rose from her seat, wearing a fine blue dress, and said, “Take me to him. Right now.”
The rolls forgotten, Bronwyn stepped aside as she set down the platter with the bread and followed them out.
Where the queen went, the guards went, and so it was a small little retinue of the queen, John, guards, and herself that all filed downstairs and to the infirmary. Upon entry, the room quieted as the men stared at her.
The queen wore a simple circlet of gold on her hair and veil, marking her status. She waited until all eyes were upon her, and all tongues had fallen silent. “Leave us. I want no one here but the doctors.” She turned. “And you, Bronwyn. You are one of his camp. Perhaps you can be of use to me.”
Bronwyn stiffened but inclined her head.
The queen walked forward and approached the cot where Sir Robert lay.
Bronwyn moved aside as the men filtered out of the room, whispering amongst themselves.
Once the room was quiet and empty but for their small circle and the invalids, Bronwyn kept a respectful distance as the queen stood by Sir Robert’s side.
Queen Matilda looked at his resting form. “What happened to him?”
The older physician came to her side. “An injury sustained in battle, Your Grace. He has a fever from infection.”
The queen raised a hand to her nose. “Is it spreading?”
“No, my queen. It remains with him.”
She lowered her hand and motioned Bronwyn forward.
Bronwyn went to her side as the doctors stepped back a few paces.
“Have you a knife?” the queen asked.
Bronwyn blinked. “Yes, for eating.”
“Give it to me,” came the command.
She swallowed. The queen was asking for her knife, whilst standing at the bedside of the great military commander of her enemy. What she was planning was only too clear. Did she help?
Bronwyn breathed in, her hand on her belt. To help the queen kill Sir Robert would possibly end the war, but it would betray Theobold and break her promise to him to keep his master safe. But the queen stood before her and had demanded her obeisance. What to do?
Bronwyn removed the small blade from her belt, where it lurked beneath her apron. With a shaking hand, she removed it from its small scabbard and handed it, pommel first, to the queen.
The queen accepted it without a word and looked at it in her hands. She held it in one dainty hand, pale and unused to killing. “It would be so easy to snuff out his life like a candle. Would you have me do it?”
“Your Grace?” Bronwyn uttered, her voice unnaturally high.
“You were forced out of your home when Maud’s armies came, led by him.
He is one of her leaders, a great man. She would be lost without him and her plans would fall apart within weeks.
You have been on the run for months and forced to go along with what that woman had planned.
I do not hold it against you. You are merely a pawn to her.
So, with one small blade, you could end so much suffering.
I leave it to you, Mistress Bronwyn. Would you end this war?
” Queen Matilda held out the blade. Her voice was soft, almost gentle.
Bronwyn met her brown-eyed gaze. The queen’s expression was clear. There was no judgment. She could take the blade and as the queen said, end it all.
Or not.
She felt indebted to Theobold. He’d helped her out of scrapes before, and had taken pains to protect her, back when they’d been on the road in the empress’s camp.
He’d even taken her to visit her family’s old bakery, when it had been exceedingly dangerous to do so for them both.
Time and again, he’d worked to give her blankets and coats, and he’d been there for her when she’d needed someone.
But it was more than a friendship. There were times when she actively disliked him—his arrogance and willful haughtiness, for starters—but she also admired his steadfast loyalty to his master and the cause he felt was right.
And despite her better judgment, she had fallen for him.
She often dreamed of his pale face and black curls, his arrogant smile that both annoyed and thrilled her. Could she betray his trust like this?
She paused. The queen closed her hand around the knife and lowered her palm. “You hesitate, Mistress Baker.”
Bronwyn nodded.
“I would too.” She handed the blade back. “It is not a decision made lightly, to take the life of a man.” Louder, she said, “Good. I am glad to know you have mercy in your heart. It is Christian of you. Even after what he has done.”
“What do you mean?”
“But of course, you wouldn’t know. Our army was willing to make peace and settle with Maud, we were ready to strike a deal to avoid any additional bloodshed, but Sir Robert wouldn’t hear of it.
Once he’d captured my husband, he wanted to show the good people of Lincoln how he felt about their following us. ”
Bronwyn breathed in, her heart thumping loudly.
“It was he who gave the order for the shops and homes of the people of Lincoln to be razed.” The queen watched her curiously. “I am surprised you survived the battle but pleased. But you are so young. Did you ever see your family again?”
“No.” Bronwyn’s voice was dull. “No, I did not.”
“A pity. No girl should be without her family.”
A lump rose in Bronwyn’s throat, seemingly out of thin air. She had not expected this. She had gone back to her family’s shop, months ago, but it had been abandoned and taken over by squatters and refugees. Her family had been nowhere to be seen. She’d followed in Empress Maud’s camp, but now?
She felt stuck between two rocks, neither giving way.
And now, to learn that Sir Robert had given the order to let the empress’s mercenaries raze and destroy the city.
How could she ally herself with such a man?
It might be all his fault that she had never seen her family since that fateful day.
But then, the king had imprisoned her father and would have killed him and her both to pay for a crime.
She might have been dead now if not for the invading army of the empress. There was no clear side to take.
“And now we have this important prisoner in our hands,” the queen said. “Having him changes things. But you know that, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Bronwyn could see that.
“I thought you would. You’re smart. Not so flighty like some of my women. It’s why I like you. Go. You may return to your duties.”
Bronwyn slipped the blade back inside the scabbard on her belt. She curtsied and walked toward the door.
Queen Matilda said to the physicians, “I want to be kept abreast of how he fares. If he wakes, I want to know. If he talks, send a messenger. I want to know.” She looked at the doctors in turn.
“Whatever you do, keep him alive. I don’t care if you have to spend your days and nights at his side. Keep him alive. You understand?”
Both physicians nodded. “Yes, Your Grace.”
Bronwyn marveled inwardly at the subtle change in the queen’s demeanor.
She gave off the appearance of a kind, almost shy, demure woman.
And yet she commanded a certain presence that marked her as someone not to be taken lightly.
That was her choice, Bronwyn supposed. In contrast to Empress Maud’s loud shouts and often demanding behavior, Queen Matilda was quiet, but just as formidable, she realized.
She too had overlooked the queen’s character due to her overly feminine ways and appearance, and she knew in that moment that would be a serious mistake.
Bronwyn followed her feet. She didn’t know which way to turn. Her mind was full of dark thoughts. Before she knew it, she stood in front of Theobold’s jail cell.
“Bronwyn,” he started, approaching the bars. He wrapped his hands around the iron and looked at her. His face was dirty. “What’s wrong?”
“Did you know?” Her voice faltered. “Were you there when Sir Robert gave the order?”
“For what?” he asked. “What are you talking about?”
“The day of the Battle of Lincoln. The queen said they were willing to make a truce, and have peace, but that once Stephen was captured, it was Sir Robert who called for the city to be razed and the shops looted and destroyed. My family’s bakery.
You took me there. Did you know it was on his orders? ”
“Bronwyn…” Theobold’s voice was gentle.
“Just tell me the truth. Were you there with him when he gave the order?”
He met her eyes and watched as a tear leaked from her right eye and coursed down her cheek. “Don’t cry,” he said.
She wiped the tear away angrily. “Tell me.”
“I cannot tell you what I don’t know.”
“But you were there,” she said.
“I’d gotten separated from him during the battle. It was chaos. In the fighting, it was messy, and—”
“Did no one spare a thought for the people of Lincoln?” she asked.
He cocked his head. “It is the way of things. We are at war, Bronwyn. I was not there for such an order. But it does not surprise me if that is true. And… I would not have tried to stop it, even if I had been present.”
Her jaw set and her nostrils flared. “How could you?”
“How is it you are accusing me, as if I were at fault? That’s not fair and you know it. I told you, Bronwyn, we are at war. Both sides make choices that are ugly. There is no right choice, only hard ones.”
She glared at him, more tears leaking from her eyes. “How can you be allied with such a man?”
“He is my lord and master. If he asks me to do something, I do it. I cannot deny him anything,” he said simply. “Is it not the same with you and the empress?”
Bronwyn stared at him mutely.
“Whose side are you on? I thought you and I followed the same leader, but now I am unsure. How can you take the side of a couple who imprisoned your father when he was innocent and would likely have killed him when the real murderer was not found? I know the story. You accuse me of having cruel allies, but look in a mirror, Bronwyn. You are not so sterling yourself.”
She looked away.
“Aha. So you are unsure as well. Well, that is something, at least.” Theobold removed his hands from the iron bars and shivered.
“Find out for yourself whom you are allied with, before you start pointing fingers at me. And I would not believe everything that the queen tells you. No doubt she has a plan of her own for you; otherwise, why would she involve you in her schemes?”
“She likes me. She likes my bread rolls.” The words sounded dull to her.
“She wouldn’t need to know your name. She could easily send a page to fetch some bread rolls.
” Theobold sighed. “You don’t even see it.
She wraps you around her little finger, and you like the attention.
But, Bronwyn, you have to remember: you are not like them.
You are a servant. A cook. A kitchen maid. You scrub pots and gut fish.”
She raised her head. The tears were now cold on her cheeks. “You seek to put me down.”
“What? No. I’m only trying to put you on your guard, to spell out for you—”
“You mean to remind me of what I am. That I am a peasant, and no more.”
“That’s not what I mean.” he said. “Try to understand.”
“I understand you perfectly.” She wiped her cheeks clean with her sleeve and turned her back.
He called after her, “Bronwyn.”
She turned.
“Does Sir Robert live?”
Her back stiffened a little. She was such a fool to think he was calling her back to apologize, or that he cared for her at all. He only cared for his master.
“He does. For now.” She tossed her blonde braid over her shoulder and returned to the kitchen.