Chapter Six
The innkeeper had made Ellowyn a brew of hot wine with cloves, honey, and boiled apples.
It was very sweet and very soothing to her sore throat, and felt wonderful going down as she took a few timid sips.
Ellowyn explained that she would be traveling and wanted to take it with her, so he gave her a huge portion of it in a big earthenware mug with a cloth over the top to keep the brew protected from the rain.
He also gave her a sack with warm bread, cheese, and several apples.
As she was sipping on the brew, his wife gave her a bowl half-filled with mush and honey, forcing her to sit down with all of her lovely booty and eat the porridge because she couldn’t very well carry it with her.
Quickly, she slurped it down, knowing that hundreds of men were waiting for her outside in the rain. So was de Russe.
Her coughing had eased but she was still very stuffy and, if she were to admit it, more than likely running a fever.
Her eyes felt hot, a sure indication that her temperature was elevated.
But she would not mention it to anyone for fear of being forced to remain in London until her health improved, for she very much wanted to return home.
As she was finishing the last of her delicious porridge, someone abruptly swiped the bowl away from her, causing the remains to spray out onto her and onto the floor.
It had been an angry gesture, not one of happenstance or accident.
The hand intentionally slapped her in the arm as it swept past her.
Cloak littered with splotches of goo, Ellowyn turned with outrage towards the source.
A man dressed in rag-tag pieces of mail and armor stood next to her table, his weathered face dark with danger. He smelled of alcohol and sweat, and Ellowyn’s outrage dissolved into that of tempered fear. Before she could move away, he grabbed her by the arm.
“You are the one who killed my brother,” he snarled. “He was dead in the street yesterday and I was told that you did it. I hope you are prepared to pay for your actions, my fine lady.”
Ellowyn’s fear upped a notch at his statement, knowing the man had swept her food away with a purpose. “I have not killed anyone,” she said, yanking her arm from his grip. “My husband is….”
He cut her off, advancing, as she backed away from him, just out of arm’s reach.
“Your husband killed him because of you,” he muttered ominously.
“I came yesterday to meet my brother and was told your husband killed him because he showed attention towards you. I have been waiting all night for you to appear so I could make you pay for what you did.”
Ellowyn continued to back away. “Leave now and you leave with your life,” she said, trying to sound threatening. “Continue on this path and you will end up like your brother.”
The knight snorted. “Your husband is outside waiting for you and can be of no use to you now.”
“You are mad!”
“We shall see.”
Ellowyn began to scamper back, away from him, as her escort rushed forward to protect her.
But along with the ragged knight were two companions, who came rushing in from the back door of the inn to take care of Ellowyn’s escort.
Soon, a full scale brawl erupted and the entire room was in turmoil.
In the cold, dirty depths of the tavern’s main chamber, life and death was beginning to play out.
Ellowyn realized very quickly that her escort was occupied by the other men.
Even though there were four of them, one man had already been disabled and, as she watched with horror, a second man was stabbed in the neck.
Terrified, and knowing she would have to fight for her life until she could get free of the inn, Ellowyn spied a knife on the closest table and without missing a beat, grabbed it and hurled it at the man pursuing her.
The knife bounced off his mail, flipped up, and clipped him in the mouth. The man roared as he brought a hand to his lips, coming away bloodied. Meanwhile, Ellowyn was running for the door.
“You foolish chit,” he yelled. “I will hurt you for this, do you hear me? You will pay with your sweet tender flesh and you’ll not be so beautiful when I am finished with you!”
He was booming by the time he spit out the last few words and Ellowyn’s fury dissolved into pure panic.
She threw a stool at him, and finally a wooden plate, before she could get to the door.
She was hoping to slow him down but her tactics didn’t seem to be working.
He was closing in on her as the entire room was shuddering with the impacts from the fight.
As she finally reached the door, the portal that promised safety beyond its wooden borders, the panel suddenly burst open.
The force of the door opening shoved her back on her arse.
Knights were flooding into the room. Ellowyn sat on her bum, astonished, as de Russe and five of the biggest men she had ever seen rushed into the room and began engaging those who had assaulted her.
De Russe himself went after the man who had been pursuing her, the ragged knight who unsheathed his broadsword at the sight of so many armed men pouring into the room.
Now the man and de Russe were engaged in a violent battle, but it was a short-lived one.
As Ellowyn watched, de Russe was able to subdue the man in about six strokes, completely dispatching him in eight.
The man collapsed in a groaning heap, felled by the Duke of Exeter’s mighty broadsword.
Meanwhile, de Russe’s knights had gone after the other two assailants and had made short work of them.
A few sword thrusts and several punches later, both men were down, one of them bleeding out all over the dirty inn floor.
The de Lara brothers picked up one man who was simply knocked unconscious and tossed him out the back door, flopping him into a vast swamp of mud that had once been the kitchen yard.
Behind them, an enormous blond knight and another big warrior with dark hair and bright blue eyes tossed out the second man, leaving a trail of blood across the floor.
As Ellowyn sat on the floor and observed all of this, overwhelmed, de Russe came up beside her.
“Are you injured?” he reached down and picked her up off the floor. “Did he hurt you?”
She let him pull her to her feet and dust her off. In truth, she was a little stunned by the whole thing and somewhat muddled.
“I am not hurt,” she said, finally tearing her gaze off the chaos of the room and looking up at him. “He said you killed his brother yesterday. I believe he was going to kill me, too.”
Brandt shook his head. “I sincerely doubt he could have completed the task,” he said, eyeing her. “You put up too much of a fight.”
He was gently teasing her and it took Ellowyn a moment to realize that. Understanding she was finally safe after the past few harrowing minutes, she exhaled heavily and slumped.
“Perhaps if I was feeling better, I might have made it more difficult for him,” she returned the humor as much as she could at the moment.
“But it would seem that you have once again saved my life, my lord. I am not entirely sure I can ever repay you for it, but please know that you have my undying gratitude.”
Brandt’s smoky eyes gazed steadily at her, a flicker of a smile on his lips. “Hmmm,” he said thoughtfully. “Yesterday you hated the sight of me. Today I am your savior. I am not sure I am comfortable with your abject adoration.”
Ellowyn knew enough to know that he was trying to ease her mood, her fears, after such a terrifying ordeal. She appreciated the attempt.
“Would you rather I throw things at you?” she said helpfully. “Would that make you more comfortable?”
He broke out in a smile, those straight white teeth gleaming in the weak morning light.
“Perhaps not,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at his knights who were readying to filter from the room and back out into the rain.
They hadn’t even raised a sweat at the battle.
“I would rather we remain comfortable acquaintances. Is that acceptable?”
“It is.”
“Are you ready to leave, then?”
Ellowyn nodded as she turned around to see that two of her escorts were dead on the floor of the inn while the other two, being tended to by the innkeeper and his wife, were fairly thrashed. Her humor faded.
“Oh… no,” she murmured.
Brandt watched her move across the room to the remains of her escort.
After a moment, he followed, coming up behind her as she was growing increasingly upset over the death of two of her men.
He watched her a moment, understanding something that he’d known from nearly the start of their association – she was a woman of deep compassion and deep feeling.
Most people wouldn’t have shown much concern for men who were simply paid to do their bidding, but Ellowyn did.
It would seem that human life meant something to her which, in Brandt’s eyes, gave her some depth of character.
Increasingly, he was seeing her through different eyes.
“My lady,” he caught her attention as she examined the injured soldier’s arm. “May I make a suggestion?”
She nodded eagerly. “Of course.”
He pointed to the dead men. “Perhaps we should pay the innkeeper to see that your men are buried,” he said, “and pay him further to tend the injured. We cannot take the dead or wounded with us.”
Ellowyn’s first instinct was to contradict him, but she knew he was right. She just didn’t like the idea of leaving any of her faithful men behind. But de Russe was correct. They couldn’t drag along the dead and wounded. She sighed.
“Very well.”
As Ellowyn made arrangements with the innkeeper to tend her men, Brandt quietly ordered his knights from the inn and instructed them to ready the troops to move out.
As the five knights made their way out into the increasingly inclement weather, Brandt stood near the entry of the smelly old inn and waited patiently for Ellowyn to finish her affairs.
When she finished paying the innkeeper a few coins from the purse she kept tied to her waist, she collected the food sack that the innkeeper had given her and bid farewell to the injured men.
Turning for the entry where de Russe was waiting, she was followed by her two remaining escorts who had collected her baggage from various places in the room. It had been kicked around in the brawl. Brandt waited patiently as she approached.
“If my lady is ready?” he asked.
She nodded, pulling the hood of her cloak up over her head. The cloak was heavy wool, very well made, and oiled so it would repel the rainwater. As her men gathered behind her, luggage in hand, she sneezed in succession, several times, violently.
Brandt took a pause as he opened the door, looking at her with some concern, but he refrained from commenting because she would only disagree with him. She looked red around the eyes and the nose but it wasn’t any concern of his.
At least, that’s what he told himself. He couldn’t decide if it was because Deston would become truly angry with him if some evil sickness befell his daughter or if it was because he was, in fact, concerned for her.