Chapter 9
I stood next to Nightmare, leaning against her for support.
I couldn’t remember a time I was this tired.
Through the hustle and bustle around me, a single soldier approached.
It was the archer – the soldier from the day before.
He was tall and thin, with fair skin and hair, close to my age or maybe a little younger.
When my identity was revealed, I wasn’t thrown into the fortress dungeon because this man had not divulged what he saw me do on the street.
I was curious to know why he had kept my secret.
The man from Murus had said he would keep my secret too, but he did so out of gratitude for saving his family.
Why had this young soldier not reported me?
‘Caris?’ He seemed less nervous than he was during our last encounter. ‘Captain Torgrin has asked me to escort you to your accommodation.’
‘My horse?’
‘Webber, our horse master, will take good care of your mare.’
Nightmare was very particular about her accommodation and didn’t get along with other horses well. She barely tolerated Cillian’s horse, Bay.
‘If you wish to assess her wellbeing, I can take you to visit her in the stables tomorrow?’
I nodded, retrieved my weapons, and said my goodbyes to Nightmare. I had nothing else with me – no clothes or belongings.
To my confusion, I was led past the barracks and into the fortress.
A large stone entrance with a wide central staircase opened up, and then I was taken down long corridor after long corridor.
Finally, the soldier paused before a door and asked me to wait while he retrieved some things.
When he returned, he was holding clothing, books and loose sheets of parchment in his gangly arms.
‘Is this your room?’ I was exhausted but felt bad taking someone else’s bed for the night.
‘No. The room is yours,’ he assured me, trying his best to see over the stack of books he held. ‘I will be back tomorrow to take you to the stables.’
‘Thank you,’ I called after him as he tottered slowly back down the way we came, doing his best not to drop anything.
It was one room, but the ample space had every comfort possible.
A sizeable bed was covered in embroidered pillows and patchwork blankets, and at the foot was an open chest containing men’s clothing.
A large, bright glass window sat above a writing desk adorned with a stack of books and an assortment of writing materials.
There were multiple stacks of books throughout the room.
A leather chair and small table sat in one corner with an open book turned face down resting upon it, as if the room’s owner would be back at any moment.
In the centre stood an oval copper bathtub, accompanied by a porcelain washbasin.
Whoever had this room before me must have been important to Lord Warwick. This was easily the finest accommodation I’d ever stayed in.
I propped my sword and bow against the wall and removed Torgrin’s cloak.
The bed looked inviting, but I didn’t want to dirty it with my heavily soiled clothing.
My ribs ached as I lifted my arms above my head to remove my shirt.
When the pain subsided, I removed the rest of my grubby clothes.
There was no water to wash with, so I had little choice but to climb into the bed as I was.
The sheets were soft and cool against my naked skin.
This was no straw mattress. Feather down and wool hugged my tender body.
I let out a groan of pleasure as I stretched my tired limbs, enjoying the sensation of my feet not hanging off the end of the bed.
I no longer cared if the room’s previous owner had been evicted for me.
Surrounded by the scent of the woods after a rainstorm, I closed my eyes with gratification and drifted into a dreamless sleep.
?
A group of women carrying large steaming jugs of water startled me awake.
Sitting up and holding the sheet to my naked breasts, I looked around the room, bewildered.
Was barging into someone’s bedchamber in the early hours of the morning normal?
Although, by the looks of the light coming through the window, it was much later. How long had I slept?
I observed the women curiously. They all looked identical, dressed in heavy, blue linen dresses, white aprons, and bonnets. One woman asked me to check if the water temperature was to my liking. I pulled the sheet around me, shuffled over to the bath, and put my hand into the water. It was perfect.
‘Would you like us to stay and help you with your bath?’ asked the woman who had spoken before. At least, I thought it was the same woman. Why did they all have to dress the same?
‘No, thank you,’ I replied.
They left towels, soaps and a comb. There was also a tiny jug of oil.
I wasn’t sure if it was for my body or my hair.
I decided I wouldn’t use it. Soap was all I ever used, and my skin and hair were just fine.
I hadn’t bathed in a tub since I was a child.
As soon as I was too big to fit in the tin tub my mother used when I was a newborn, I was bathing in the river.
The warm water was delightful on my sore body, and my ribs were less painful today – thankfully, I’d always healed fast.
When the door opened again, I’d finished washing blood and dirt from my hair with the rose-scented soap.
The woman who had attended to the scrape on my cheek before the ceremony greeted me and came to the side of my tub.
Was there no privacy in the fortress? If there was a lock on that door, I intended to use it in the future.
‘I’ve just come to check on your face and to wrap your ribs. Torgrin said that they’re likely broken?’
Did he now? I noted she hadn’t called him Captain. She bent to inspect my cheek.
‘Hmm, you have healed very well. I’m not sure if you need any more balm. Can I check your ribs, please?’ I sat up in the tub and raised my arms.
She pressed her hands into my left side and then in to my right. ‘Any pain?’ she asked.
I shook my head.
‘Well, your ribs are badly bruised but not broken. Torgrin is rarely wrong about these things.’
‘Do you know Captain Torgrin well?’ I asked her while lowering back into the warm water.
‘Oh yes, I’ve known Torgrin and Atlas for many years. They saved my husband’s life when they were just boys themselves.’
‘Really?’
She nodded while drying her hands on her apron. ‘Their captain had badly beaten my husband and they brought him to me. He would have died if they hadn’t,’ she said with watery eyes.
I wasn’t surprised to hear this of Atlas and Torgrin, but felt another surge of hope that they were still as honourable as the boys I once met.
‘His ability to speak has gone, and he gets bad headaches sometimes. None would give him work because of it.’ Like the sun coming out from behind the clouds, a smile emerged from her sadness.
‘But the boys would find him the odd job when they could, and now he runs the stables here at Warwick Fortress. He loves to work with horses.’ Her curls bounced happily as she spoke.
‘I asked if Lord Warwick and his family needed a healer so we could be together and, thankfully, there was a place for me too. We have been settled here in Murus for a few months now, all thanks to those two boys.’
She loved her husband. How she spoke about him reminded me of my mother and father. I also found it endearing that this little woman with curly brown hair called fully grown men who commanded a militia, ‘boys’. Atlas and Torgrin were anything but.
‘Thank you for coming and checking on me. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble. I’m sure you have many patients this morning.’
‘No trouble!’ she declared, then left me to finish bathing.
I rummaged through the trunk at the end of the bed to see if anything would fit me.
A pair of tan leather breeches were the perfect length, but they were tight across my hips and loose over my abdomen.
I tied a cord around the waist and tested that they wouldn’t split when I sat or bent over.
I also found a suitable black shirt. It would have been better for it to be longer to hide how tight the breeches were across my rear, but overall, the borrowed clothes were preferable to the grimy, torn ones I had removed last night.
I had just finished dressing when the women in blue dresses and white bonnets returned to empty the tub and my chamber pot.
I was embarrassed to have someone else clean the pot.
I didn’t know where to dispose of the contents, and when I enquired where I could take it, she looked at me as if I was foolish for asking.
After they left, I sat in the chair, wondering what to do next.
The young archer said he would come and fetch me, so I waited.
The well-appointed fortress and its servants felt overwhelming for somebody who spent their life sleeping in small mud-brick homes or under the stars.
As I looked around the comfortable room, I wondered what my role in Warwick Fortress was to be.
I thought it was to guard Lord Warwick and his children, so why was I here inside the fortress with servants filling baths and emptying my chamber pot and not in the barracks with the soldiers?