Chapter Eleven
Ellowyn was dressed very carefully in a ruby-red, silk surcoat with a matching shift.
The surcoat was stitched with silver thread and a flower made from red-colored glass decorated portions of her belly and trailed down her right leg.
It was a magnificent dress that her father had purchased for her in York a few years ago.
It had been one of the rare times he had traveled out of Erith because the weather had been warm and his health good, and she very much treasured the spectacular dress. She only wore it for special occasions.
Her first evening back at Erith was a special occasion.
Her mother’s maid had arranged her hair in a beautiful style with silver ribbons woven into a braid that draped over her right shoulder.
The maid had scrubbed her face along with her body, so her complexion was particularly rosy, and she smelled strongly of lavender.
Furthermore, with a good deal of coaxing, the maid had borrowed some of Annalora’s cosmetics and Ellowyn found herself with luscious red lips, faintly rouged cheeks, and a dark cosmetic on her lashes that was made of crushed coal, beeswax, and linseed oil.
Her mother had bought it on a trip to Manchester, a major port, and was told by the merchant that it was a mysterious Egyptian cosmetic that was all the rage in Paris.
On Ellowyn with her bright green eyes, the dark lashes made her look like a goddess.
Standing to the rear of Erith’s massive keep where the ponds and small flower garden were, Ellowyn stood by the still waters of the fish pond, watching the water creatures move amongst the lilies.
The sun had set behind the hill that backed up to Erith, and the moon was full and bright.
As she stood there, gazing into the water, she could hear footfalls come up beside her.
Brandt was walking fairly quickly. He came to within a foot of Ellowyn, gazing down at her with a good deal of pleasure. Ellowyn smiled brightly.
“You received my message, I see,” she said.
He nodded. “Your maid delivered it,” he replied. Then, he took a moment to look her up and down. “I have never in my life seen such beauty. I did not think it possible for you to grow even more lovely since last I saw you, but I was wrong. You are an angel.”
Her smile broadened. “My thanks,” she said softly. “It has taken all afternoon for me to look like this.”
“It was well worth the time spent.”
She nodded her thanks, her green eyes seeking his dark ones curiously. “Did you speak with my father?”
Brandt shook his head, the look of pleasure on his face turning to one of frustration.
“I did not,” he said. “There has been no opportunity as of yet, but I find that I am going to have to create the opportunity. I am planning on leaving in the next day or two and I would like to take you with me when I go. Time is of the essence.”
Her expression grew serious. “Leaving?” she repeated. “Where are you going?”
“Back to France,” he said, somewhat softly. “I am expected.”
Her features fell. “Expected by whom? Why must you go back? You have only just returned.”
There was a stone bench near the pond. Brandt reached out and took her hand, guiding her over to the bench which sat partially obscured by the moonlit shadows. When they sat, it was very close together. Brandt lifted her hand to his lips, kissing it sweetly, before continuing.
“You know that I have been with the Prince of Wales in France for the past three years,” he said softly. “Whether or not I have told you directly, surely you were aware?”
Ellowyn was pouting now. “Of course I was aware,” she said, frowning.
“But I did not pay much attention to the details, to be truthful. All I knew was that my father loaned you six hundred men and that you were returning them to London at the end of January, but I heard nothing about you going back to France. Why must you return?”
He kissed her hand again. “Because Edward is expecting me to return with fresh men and supplies,” he said.
“That is the only reason I returned to England, Wynny. I brought your father’s men home because they had been fighting for a solid year and needed rest. My orders are to collect fresh men and supplies, and return to Edward within three months of my departure.
I have already been gone a month, so I must leave as soon as I can and go about my mission on seeking fresh men and supplies from other allies. Then, I must go back.”
She was looking at him with big, bottomless eyes. “To fight.”
“Aye.”
She cocked her head. “What about me?” she asked. “Do you plan to marry me in haste and simply leave me here?”
He sighed faintly. “I plan to marry you, enjoy what time we have together, and then return to France,” he said, trying to be gentle.
“You may stay here at Erith with your family, or you may stay at my seat of Guildford Castle. As my wife, you would command much power and respect. I would be proud to have you at Guildford, administering my lands.”
“I do not care about power and respect,” she said, somewhat petulantly. “I only care about you. I do not want you to go.”
He smiled, cupping her face with one big hand and stroking her soft cheek with his thumb.
“I must,” he said simply. “But know that it will give me no pleasure in leaving you. That has never happened before.”
“What do you mean?”
“Leaving someone behind that I would miss. In fact, I do not ever believe I have missed anyone.”
The smile was returning to her face, reluctantly. “Not ever?”
“Not ever.”
She gazed at him, rather dreamily. “Why can’t I come with you?” she asked softly. “I would not be any trouble. You said yourself that I travel very well. Won’t you take me with you?”
He shook his head. “Absolutely not,” he said firmly, but he kissed her hand as he said it. “You must understand that I am in harm’s way every moment of every day. Men go out of their way to try and kill me because the death of l’ange noir would bring any man much prestige. Furthermore, I….”
He came to an abrupt halt because he could see her eyes welling up with frightened tears. He inwardly winced at his lack of tact and sought to make amends.
“The rainy season is upon us,” he said quickly, covering his tracks. “There is mud such as you have never seen. Mud up to my waist. And the rain, it is torrential. We travel day and night in the stuff. I would hate to see you covered in mud day and night. It would kill my morale.”
Ellowyn wasn’t fooled. “I realize that you are a warlord and men are going out of their way to try and kill you,” she said, unhappy. “Must you be so blunt about it? Must you give me such angst for your safety?”
He sighed again, kissing her hand sweetly.
“I am sorry,” he said softly, his deep voice a gentle rumble.
“I was not thinking. You must understand that I have no need to be tactful with those around me and I am unused to speaking with women on a personal level. This is all very new to me so I apologize if, at times, I am tactless.”
His apology eased her somewhat and she even managed a weak smile. “Do you have property in France?”
He nodded. “I do,” he replied. “In Brittany I hold Chateau Melesse, which became mine when my father died, and Chateau Gael, which is where my daughters live. Near Limoges I hold Chateaus Ruffec and Civray, which I confiscated last year whilst fighting.”
“Why can I not stay in one of your castles? I would be safe there and you could come and see me every day.”
He smiled at her, her na?ve nature. “Would that I could,” he murmured, his gaze drifting over her face. “But I would not put you in such danger. Besides, I would probably kill myself racing home to you every night after a day of fighting.”
“It would be worth it.”
He chuckled, pulling her into a snug embrace. “Aye, it would,” he said. “Even on my deathbed, every moment with you would be well worth it.”
Ellowyn held him tightly, relishing the feel of him in her arms. Her heart was racing madly, her limbs tingling with excitement.
As she opened her eyes to say something to him, she caught a shadow moving towards them quickly.
She also caught a glint of steel heading in their direction.
With a gasp, she managed to release Brandt and give him a shove sideways at the same time.
“Get down!” she cried as she fell backwards over the bench. “Behind you!”
Brandt didn’t stop to question her. He rolled off the bench and onto his knees, turning to face whatever had Ellowyn’s panicked attention.
He was without his broadsword but he carried two daggers.
Reaching into the holster lodged into his big boot, he removed a dirk that was nearly a foot long and, taking swift aim, hurled it at the rapidly approaching figure.
The wicked-looking knife caught the man in the neck and he collapsed forward onto the bench.
The broadsword in his hand clattered to the ground and Brandt swiftly retrieved it, turning it against the man in a split-second and driving it into the back of the man’s neck.
He stilled immediately as the blood gushed.
Ellowyn was on her bum just a few feet away, eyes wide and hands against her mouth. Before she realized it, Brandt was sweeping her into his arms and carrying her back to the keep.
“Come along, my lady,” he said calmly. “That is enough excitement for one night.”
“That… that man,” she gasped. “He… he would kill us.”
Brandt was quite composed. “Not us,” he said. “Me. I told you that men were out to kill me. I did not exaggerate.”
She lifted her head from his broad shoulder, looking at him with big eyes. “Men under your command?”
He wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was focused on the keep. “An assassin,” he said quietly. “It happens all of the time.”