Blind Impulse (8 page)

Julian
a’s terrified scream nearly stopped Simon’s heart.  He spun, instantly
drawing his sword.  She exploded through a thicket, running as hard as she could.  For an instant, Simon wondered how she had ever lost a race to Garin.

Then his gaze locked on the thin
g chasing her.  A male boar, fully grown, charged after her, murder gleaming in its eyes.

“
Juliana!” he roared, sprinting forward. 

Simon managed to cut across her path and snatch her around the waist.  He tossed her out of the way, bracing himself to mee
t the boar’s charge.  Simon and Garin had joined the men on boar hunts in the past, although too young to truly participate in the slaying.  But he knew the strategy of the kill.

Terror raged within him.  If Simon fell to the boar, it would kill Garin and
Juliana as well.  The boar closed the distance.  Simon lunged with his sword, burying the weapon in the creature’s neck.  It screamed hideously, trying to gore his legs.  Simon leaped backward, yanking his sword free.

The boar turned to charge again, bleed
ing copiously.  Juliana remained on the ground, frozen in terror.  Simon refused to move away from her even though he knew a sword was a poor weapon against the boar.

“
Simon!” Garin cried.

Simon tore his gaze away in time to see Garin toss a large branch t
oward him.  He dropped his sword and snatched it out of the air.  The branch was relatively straight, as tall as Simon and as thick as his arm, with a sharp break, leaving a pointed end.  It was not a hunting stave but it would do.

The boar charged and Sim
on braced himself.  He thrust the weapon through the beast’s chest with an inhuman strength born of terror, and drove the boar into the ground where it died.

Covered in blood, Simon stepped away, gasping for breath and shaking.  Juliana, sobbing, threw her
arms around his neck.

“
My knight,” she murmured.  “My wonderful knight.”

Simon held her so tightly it was a wonder he hadn’t squeezed the breath from her.  Garin rushed toward him and Simon clapped him on the shoulder.  “You kept your head, Garin.  Thank
you.”

“
So did you,” he said, grinning.  “We made a good team.”

“
That we did.”

Juliana gradually calmed and they turned for home, dragging the boar with them....

…
Simon sighed, shaking his head.  He also knew the reason why Juliana had changed and no
longer supported her brother.  That day had proven a turning point in their childhood and Juliana never joined their games again.  Although Harold Swein praised Simon’s actions and they feasted on the boar he killed, Juliana had caught her father’s wrath f
ull force.

In a sense, Simon understood her father’s fury.  Simon had also been angry with Juliana for being so careless in her game, but he had curbed his tongue simply because of his relief that she was unharmed.

Her father had not been so kind, however.
  He had railed at her terribly.  Simon had not been present for the tongue lashing, nor did he know what all was said
b
ut
everyone in the great hall heard the lord raging at Juliana in the solar.  When he finally allowed her to leave she had run from th
e keep sobbing terribly.

Simon quietly followed her to the stables where she threw herself in the straw and cried in agony.  His heart twisted just as painfully now as it had that night.  But he had not approached her.  As she cried, he hid himself in the
shadows, his hand on his sword.  He stayed with her, sorrow surging within him, listening to her tears which he could not allay. 

She never knew he had shared each tortured sob ripped from her being and Simon would never speak of the matter.  He remained
alert and steadfast, guarding her through the night and into dawn when she finally picked herself up and returned to her room.  Simon remained in the shadows.

Where he belonged. 

Simon fingered the boar’s tusks he had strung to a leather thong and wore ar
ound his neck under his tunic.  To this day, Juliana never knew he had been there.

Chapter Four

In three days Garin’s headache did not go away.  It only grew worse.  He was hardly able to stand through the wedding ceremony
at the church doors.  The blood roared in his ears and the stone under his feet felt as if it undulated.  Simon and Geoff stood on his right and Alyna and her maids on his left.

He wished he could see her. 

No doubt she was the most beautiful bride in al
l of England.  Sorrow settled deep in his soul.  He would never know.

Garin smelled lavender and felt her smaller hand in his, soft and warm.  He heard her voice quiet but strong as she spoke the vows. 

Her Uncle Roger had made the wedding bands.  Garin m
arveled at the delicacy of the gold under his fingers.  If Roger could learn to do this without his vision surely Garin could learn to be baron.  He slipped the ring on Alyna’s finger wishing he could look into her eyes.

When Father Thomas bade Garin to ki
ss the bride, sheer terror shot through him.  It would be a miracle if his bumbling didn’t knock their heads together.  But to Garin’s shock Alyna simply guided his hands to her face.  His fingers touched the soft skin of her smooth cheeks, his thumbs felt
the small, upturned corners of her mouth.  The memory of Alyna in his arms on the balcony bloomed with perfect clarity.  Her eyes wide with surprise and excitement, her warm body pressed against his cold frame. 

He bent his head intending to give her a b
rief, polite kiss as was proper.  But his lips touched hers and the darkness ripped apart like beggars cloth.  His mind’s eye filled with vibrant color, Alyna’s face beautiful before him.

Her lips were just as sweet, just as drugging as that first night he
kissed her.  Her mouth opened and he forgot his place, his surroundings, and for a tiny instant his pain, as he swept his tongue across hers.  He delved into her mouth with a passion that startled him, savoring her honeyed taste and the sweet lavender tha
t wrapped around him.  Her kiss promised so much more, an escape from the pain and a journey into delight.

Father Thomas cleared his throat.

The beautiful picture dissolved.  Darkness swallowed the colors and the ache of loneliness returned.  He stood soli
tary in a black void, forever to remain.  Garin hauled himself back
,
wondering what had gotten into him.  He released Alyna, abruptly ashamed of himself.  But to his surprise Alyna wrapped her arm in his and gently but discreetly guided him into the small c
hapel for mass and communion.

They returned to the keep for the revel and Garin’s headache intensified.  He refused all food and drink not wanting to make a fool of himself.  In the brief time of his recovery, he had discovered himself a fumbling clod, una
ble to find his napkin, determine which plates held what, and spilling his wine cup every time he tried to lift it to his lips. 

But when Alyna knelt before him and offered him a cup of wine he could not refuse.  She gently wrapped his hand around the fin
e golden chalice, her fingers lingering over his.  He was pleased he did not spill it when he took a drink.

“
Garin,” she said softly.  “Are you all right?”

He thought about lying to her but abruptly decided against it.  “Nay, Alyna, I am sorry.”

“’
Tis too
much noise, isn’t it?”

“
Aye.”

He was surprised when she took the cup from him and set it aside.  “Come,” she said tugging on his arm.  “Let’s go upstairs.”

“
But the guests....”

“
They are already well into their cups.  We do not need the fiasco of the beddi
ng ceremony to add to the mayhem.  We can slip away unnoticed.”

Garin was only too happy to allow her to lead him away.  But now he would be expected to consummate the marriage.  He froze on the stairs.

“
Garin?”

His hand went to his head. “I’m just a bit d
izzy.”  It wasn’t a lie.  She tugged his arm over her shoulders and pressed herself against his side.  Garin marveled at how well she fit next to him.  She tucked perfectly under his arm as if God had made her specifically for him.  They continued to the r
oyal apartments which had been rearranged for them.

The solar was huge but Garin did not like the place.  This had been his parents’ room for so long it felt like sacrilege to enter with a woman who was now his wife.  At least his own room he knew, he coul
d somehow get his bearings but in here he was lost.

Alyna closed the door and sighed softly.  He felt a pang of guilt.  How hard was this for her? 

“
I never knew I’d appreciate silence so much,” she said.

Garin felt his lips quirk upward.  He wanted to si
t down.  Actually, he wanted to crawl in bed and sleep until his head stopped hurting but he didn’t even know where the bed stood.

“
It’s going to take some time for you to memorize this room,” Alyna said touching his arm.  “About five paces straight ahead
from the door is the bed.”  She guided him to it. 

He was surprised to find a huge bed, much larger than his parents ever owned.

“
This is your mother’s gift to us,” Alyna said directing his hands.  “She had it made by one of the finest woodworkers in the
barony.” 

He touched one of the bedposts, feeling the smooth wood under his fingers. 

“
It is a deep red cherry wood and has dark blue velvet curtains.  The canopy,” she pushed his hand up, “is intricately carved.  You can reach it, I can’t unless I get o
n the bed.” 

His fingers traveled over the carvings and he frowned.  It took a moment for him to realize the picture.  “It is a hunt scene.”

“
Aye,” Alyna said happily. 

Satisfaction swept over him.  Perhaps there was a chance for him yet.

Alyna guided hi
m to the huge table near the hearth, describing everything with amazing clarity, then to the other furniture.  She always based the next discovery off the previous.  Garin discovered he was able to mentally map out the room quite easily.

She returned to th
e bed and he sat
.  “Let me help you with your boots,” she said.  “I have a tea for your headaches.  Would you like me to prepare it?”

“
Please.”

She tugged off his boots and moved away.  Garin removed his belt, tunic, and braccas, wearing only his brai
es.  His head spun.  What was he going to say?  What was he going to do?  He suddenly felt like a novice - a sensation he thought to never feel again.  He knew well how to pleasure a woman.  But now, without his sight, he would be a an uncoordinated idiot.
  How could he even think that Alyna would want him to touch her?  A blind man should not expect such luxury. 

He rubbed his throbbing temples.  Alyna returned to his side.  “The tea will be ready in a moment.”

“
Alyna...,” he said, his voice strained.

“
I
know.”  Her voice was just as tight.  “I’m not sure if I’m ready either.”

Relief and anger surged through him leaving only massive confusion in its wake.  Alyna did not want him to do anything so he did not have to worry about making a fool of himself.  Bu
t how long had he dreamed of this moment?  How long had he wanted to sweep her into his arms and love her until she could only whimper his name?  But Alyna did not want him because he was blind.

He pressed the heels of his hands against the sides of his he
ad before it exploded.  Alyna took one of his hands and guided it to a cup.  He drank the bitter tea quickly.  He had a feeling it would knock him senseless but he did not care.

“
Lay back,” she said softly.  He did so then heard her disrobing, gently she c
rawled into bed with him.  He felt the soft material of her shift against his skin.  She propped herself up with her pillows and guided his head to her lap.  Her fingers ran through his hair and she gently massaged his head and neck, humming softly. 

Star
tled, he lay coiled next to her, wondering what she was about.  But her hands kept working and Garin soon found his eyes growing heavy.  The band of pain around his head broke free and he slipped into a deep sleep.

****

Garin’s horse squealed in agony. 
Pain surged through his body as the animal collapsed in its headlong rush through enemy lines.  Garin slammed into the ground, the breath knocked from his lungs.  His vision turned black but he felt blood on his face.  His comrades fell around him, screami
ng in anguish.

Garin’s mount thrashed in its death throes then abruptly fell still.  Garin tried to move, but fire shot through his left leg, the huge destrier on top of it, pinning him to the ground.

A man shrieked in terror and something landed heavily
on top of him.  Garin blinked his bloody vision clear and strangled on a cry as he focused on dead eyes staring into his, the dead crusader’s face less than an inch from his own.

Garin tried to knock the body off of him but his shield, pinned his left arm
against his chest.  The dead man trapped Garin’s right arm and he could not find the leverage to shove the body away.  Garin squeezed his eyes closed, trying to suck in a breath.  Bodies
of his knightly brothers piled around and on top of him.  The stench
of blood and death assailed him.

The horrible screams of man and horse, the sharp clash of weapons, and the thunder of heavy cavalry colliding with shield walls gradually faded.  Garin continued to struggle, trying to free himself from the mound of death t
hat covered him.

Then he heard the sharp voices of the enemy and realized a handful walked through the dead, killing those who were mortally wounded, taking prisoners of those who were not, and looting the bodies.  He fell still and kept his eyes closed, s
uddenly grateful for the shield and bodies covering him.  He prayed Simon would search for him; if his friend had survived the day.

He felt something shoved into his back and a scream resounded in his ears.  One man who lay near him had been alive but was
no longer.  Hands searched the bodies around him, roughly seizing anything of value. 

A deep voice bellowed a battle cry and the hands stopped.  Garin heard guttural voices barking sharply at each other but they faded away.

Suddenly the body on top of him
moved.  “Garin!” a voice cried, seizing his arms.  “Garin!”

Someone hauled him up and out from under his horse.  He opened his eyes, trying to breathe, and terror shot through him.  Dear God, h
e couldn’t see, he was blind….

…
“
Garin!” Alyna called, her h
ands cupping his face.  “Garin, are you all right?”

Garin abruptly
found himself sitting up in bed b
ut darkness surrounded him.  Terror continued to surge through him. 
Where am I?
  He feared he was still on the battlefield, blinded by an enemy’s weapon,
the time at Kirkoswald nothing more than an hallucination.

“
Garin?” Alyna called again.

Her presence was the proof he needed.  He panted, trying to slow his rattling heart.  Cold sweat rolled down his face and body, his muscles quivered violently.

“
Sweet
Mary, Garin, what’s wrong?”

He wrapped an arm around her, holding her tightly, as he tried to grab the remnants of his sanity. 

Alyna returned his embrace, her hands stroking his hair and back.  “’Tis all right, Garin,” she whispered, kissing his cheek.

S
lowly, Garin managed to calm himself.  He felt the bed underneath him, and the blankets covering him to the waist.  Alyna, clothed in her light shift, held him securely.  He was home but still blind.

“
What happened?” Alyna asked again, her voice soft and c
oaxing.

“
Nightmare,” he whispered, his voice not his own.

Her arms tightened around him.  Garin savored the feel of her hair against his face.  He breathed her lavender scent which helped ease the stench of death his dream had brought so clearly to memory.
  She released him but Garin refused to let her go.

“
It’s all right, Garin,” she said and pulled away.

She crawled off the bed and Garin felt abandoned.  He heard her move around the room then she pressed a cup in his hands.  “Wine,” she said softly.  “Dri
nk, it will calm
you.”

His hands shaking, he downed it in one swallow.  But the wine warmed his belly and eased his trembling limbs.

“
Would you like some more?”

“
Nay,” he replied, handing the cup back to her.  “But thank you.”