Chapter Twenty-Three #2
Essien closed his eyes a moment before looking at him. “The soldiers are saying because Lady Corisande traded favors with the Scots commander for their freedom,” he said quietly. “That is why they were being released.”
Cole didn’t quite understand. “Traded favors?” he said. “What favors?”
“Cole, she gave herself over to the commander,” Essien said quietly, making it clear. “She let the man bed her as a condition for their release. She was seen going into his tent, alone, and the next morning, they were released.”
Cole’s eyes flew open wide when he finally realized what he was saying. “Those men are saying that?” he hissed.
Essien nodded, disgusted with the entire situation. “They are,” he said miserably. “The rumors have been going around camp for several days, evidently, only we heard nothing about it because we’ve been sealed up at Berwick Castle. But I heard it today when I was running missives.”
Cole stared at him a moment and they could see that his cheeks were turning a dull shade of red. “It’s not true,” he said hoarsely. “It is not possibly true.”
Essien lifted his shoulders. “True or not, that is what they are saying, Cole. Surely there has to be another explanation other than the idle gossip of vicious tongues.”
Cole continued to stare at him, processing what he’d been told.
Something was building in him, something explosive.
Perhaps even something uncontrollable. Those two-colored eyes took on a terrifying gleam.
Without another word, he turned back to the stairwell and began racing up the steep stairs. After a split second, Julian followed.
Essien called after them.
“I am sorry, Cole!” he shouted. “I thought you should know!”
Cole didn’t answer. He just kept running. Distraught, Essien turned to Addax, who simply shook his head with pure, unadulterated disgust.
“I had to tell him,” Essien insisted. “He had to know.”
Addax nodded. “I know,” he said, greatly disheartened by the whole situation. “Come on. Let’s follow him to make sure he does not kill anyone.”
The brothers followed.
*
Corisande was stirring a giant iron pot filled with boiling water as Gaia gingerly tossed bloodied and soiled linen bandages into it.
It was not her favorite task.
“Gaia, watch what you are doing,” Corisande scolded. “We do not want to toss the bandages into the fire.”
Gaia was absolutely disgusted. She held up a linen bandage by the very edge, soiled with something green, and shrieked.
“It smells!” she cried.
“Then do not smell it,” Corisande said impatiently. “Just put it in the pot.”
Making a terrible face, she tossed the bandage into the pot as Corisande stirred. “This is awful work,” she said unhappily. “Why can’t someone else do this?”
“Because you are doing it. I have asked this of you.”
Gaia was pouting. Looking around their encampment, she was trying to think of something that wasn’t disgusting, smelly, or awful. She eyed her sister unhappily.
“Then let me stir the pot,” she said. “You can toss in the soiled linen.”
“Gladly,” Corisande said, rolling her eyes as Gaia took over with the big stick. “That’s right; stir it boldly. You have to make sure that all of the poison on the bandages comes off.”
Gaia was trying to stir and stand back from the flames at the same time. “It’s hot!”
Corisande grunted unhappily at her sister’s complaining. Everything she did was something to complain about and it was becoming frustrating. “Stir,” she commanded. “Keep stirring. I will go check on the men and bring back more soiled bandages.”
While Gaia whimpered and whined, Corisande headed off to check on her sick and injured men.
Behind the de Bourne encampment, she had a large tent set up and several lesser shelters, with canvas strung up over poles to create shelter from the sky and the elements.
The more badly wounded men were in the tent while the lesser wounded were under the canvas, carefully tended to by Corisande and several of the old soldiers who had been captured at the same time she and Gaia had been.
At least, the ones that hadn’t been too badly injured in that event.
It made for an efficient hospital.
In fact, Corisande had the most organized hospital out of all of the armies.
She had even taken in men who were too badly wounded from other armies because she seemed to know what to do.
She’d done some horrifying battlefield surgery on several men, but due to her skill, she’d only lost two of them.
The rest were in various stages of healing, although a few of them were still bad off.
She was keeping a close eye on them.
Her first stop was the tent to check on those with the more terrible wounds.
They were stable and she was grateful. One man was missing the lower part of his right leg and poison threatened, so she was bandaging him with clean linen every couple of hours.
She went to him to check up on him, pleased to see that he seemed a little stronger.
She had one of her helpers remove the bandages and she took them away as her helper wrapped the stump with fresh boiled linen.
As Corisande came out of the tent and headed over to the pot where Gaia was stirring, she happened to see Cole and Julian entering the de Bourne encampment.
A smile came to her face at the sight of Cole.
It had been two days since she’d last seen him and the mere sight did her heart good.
He was still safe, and whole, and that was all she cared about.
She dumped the dirty bandages into the pot as he entered the wounded area.
“Greetings, my lord,” she said sweetly. “It is good to see you on this fine day. I’ve heard the battle is mostly over. How is the castle holding?”
He marched up on her with the strangest look in his eyes. Not only did he not greet her, he also didn’t make any move to touch her. Not a hug or a kiss.
Nothing.
He just stood there, looking at her.
“I am going to ask you a question and you will tell me the absolute truth,” he finally said, sounding strangely tight. “Do you understand?”
Julian, right beside him, put a hand on his brother’s arm. “Cole, please,” he muttered. “Be calm. Be…”
Cole roughly shook off his brother’s hand. “Get away from me, Julian,” he growled. “This does not concern you.”
Julian knew that tone. He knew better than to argue. With a heavy sigh, he wandered away, leaving Corisande greatly confused by Cole’s manner.
Her smile faded.
“I would not lie to you,” she said. “What is the matter?”
“When we ambushed the wagons as the Scots led them out of the encampment, where were you going?”
She cocked her head. “Back to England, I was told.”
“So they were releasing you.”
She nodded, still confused with the line of questioning. “That was my understanding,” she said. “Why? Does it matter?”
It was apparent that he was trying very hard to keep his composure and she truly had no idea why. “Why were they releasing you?” he asked.
Corisande was greatly puzzled. “What do you mean?” she asked. “Cole, what is the matter? Has something happened?”
His jaw flexed dangerously. “Answer me,” he said, lowering his voice. “Why were they releasing you?”
She shook her head. “What else do you do with prisoners?” she said. “If you do not need them or want them, you release them, I suppose. We were of no value to them any longer, so…”
He cut her off. “Did you make a deal with them?”
“A deal? What deal?”
He was starting to breathe heavily, his chest heaving with emotion. Corisande had never seen him in such a state and, frankly, it was frightening. He looked as if he were coiled, ready to strike, and she took a step back from him.
He took a step forward.
“Did you warm some Scotsman’s bed in exchange for your release?”