Candace C. Bowen - A Knight Series 02 (19 page)

“Have a care for the bandaged wound.” She nodded to the men as Albin relaxed.

Slipping a sheet over his nakedness, Lecie led the way down the narrow passageway as the men struggled to keep a grip on Albin. Winifred was waiting with Anne when they finally made it into the bathing chamber. 

“Gently,” Winifred urged as the men strained to lift Albin over the high lip of the tub.

Slipping the sheet from him Winifred and Anne averted their eyes as the men eased Albin into the cold water.

Albin moaned in relief laying his head against the side of the tub as Lecie knelt beside him to bathe his fevered brow with a cloth. “You shall feel better soon, my heart.”

“Is there anything else you need, my lady?” Merek spoke softly from behind Lecie.

“I shall summon you should there be a need.” Her eyes resting on Albin’s unshaven face she smiled tenderly. “Thank you all for your assist.”

“Aye, my lady.”

Lecie’s smile faltered as the solemn group left the room. Albin moaned softly as she ran the cool cloth along his brow.

“I love you, Albin.” Lightly running a fingertip along his jaw line, tears filled Lecie’s eyes. “I loved you from the first moment I saw you.”  

“Tell…” Albin hoarsely whispered without opening his eyes.

“I did not take you for a knight who enjoys romantic stories,” she teased. “I thought that was more of Sir Guy’s leanings.” 

“Wife,” Albin muttered.

“Very well.” Pleased he was once again responding to her, she drew up a stool to perch on. “It was the first time his lordship came to Rochester. The village was abuzz with news of his impending arrival.” Lecie smiled in remembrance. “My Da had to turn away some folk at the door lest there be no room for his lordship and men.” Wringing out the cloth, she held it to the back of Albin’s neck. “I had just come from the kitchen when you strode in just behind his lordship. While all other eyes rested on Baron Erlegh, I had eyes only for you.” Taking a deep unsteady breath, she smiled slightly to find his half-open eyes resting on her. “You were jesting about something with Sir Gervase and did not even notice my regard.”

“Not true.” Reaching up, Albin captured her hand to hold it against his flushed cheek. “You were wearing an amber kirtle that so matched your eyes I was held spellbound by your beauty.”

“You remember?” Surprised and pleased, Lecie searched his eyes.

“Aye, I remember.” He closed his eyes. “More so I remember the crushing disappointment I felt when Gervase informed me you were Edric’s wife.”

“It was Sir Gervase who told you I was married?”

“Aye, it was he.” Albin scowled. “I should have known better than to trust the word of such a bumble-headed dolt.”

Picturing Gervase with his handsome looks and courtly manners, Lecie smiled. “You must admit, he does have a way with women.”

Albin’s eyes popped open to study her. “Had he known you were not Edric’s wife, he would have wooed you himself.”

Lecie hid a smile to nod thoughtfully at his jealous tone. “Mayhap, he would have. Were he to learn a sonnet or two from Sir Guy, even more maidens would fall for his courtly charms.”

“Mayhap even you?”

“Me? I know not of what you speak as I am no longer a maiden, husband.”

“Lecie,” Albin grumbled.

“If you recall correctly, Sir Gervase also happened to be on that trip.” Lecie bent to cup his cheeks. “And still, I had eyes only for you.”

“Well…good. I would hate to call out a man I consider brother, even if he is a bumble-headed dolt.”

“The water has loosened the linen.” Lecie laughed as she began to remove the bandages from Albin’s shoulder. “I shall have to fetch more to bind the wound after I cleanse it.”

Albin clasped her hand to stop her. “Have Winifred tend to me, lass.”

“I will do no such thing.” Lecie straightened away from him. “You are my husband and I shall tend you.”

“No.” Albin replied with a frown. “Send for Winifred.”

“Fine.” Hurt, Lecie stood to shake out her skirts. “I shall summon her.”

“Thank you.”

“No thanks are needed,” Lecie snapped on her way out the door. “As your wife, I am bound to obey you.”

“Saucy wench,” Albin called after her.

* * *

Albin pasted a smile on his face until he recognized Winfred in the doorway with an arm full of clean linen.

His features slipping into a grimace of pain, Albin nodded for her to enter. “I fear I cannot hold out much longer acting the able-bodied husband to my wife.”

“How bad is it, Sir Albin?” Kneeling beside the tub, Winifred peeled back the bloodied linen to expose the infected pus-filled lesion. Streaks of red had begun their deadly trail from the center of the oozing wound.

“Aye,” he answered Winifred’s unspoken question. “It festers. I would spare my wife the grisly sight of it so soon after losing her father.” 

“Sir Albin.” Winifred eyed the wound with dread. “I must summon Dr. Rayburn at once if you are to stand a chance.”

“No.” Albin refused with a shake of his head. “The leech would drain the last drop of blood from me and still not heel what ails me.”

“What would you have us do?” Winifred wrung her hands nervously in her kirtle. “This is beyond anything I have ever seen before.”

“My last hope is on her ladyship Reina.” Taking a deep unsteady breath, Albin closed his eyes. “I hear they are past due.”

“I pray her ladyship arrives in time to help you, Sir Albin.”

Dipping his head in acknowledgement, Albin pushed against the bottom of the tub to expose more of his shoulder. “Please dry and bind the wound before my wife sees it. Then send for the men to lend assist in returning me to my bed.”

Albin held onto consciousness through the pain of having his wound lightly bound. Supported by William and Merek, he fought against the darkness threatening to claim him as he made the walk from the bathing room to the master chamber. Shaking from the effort, he climbed into the center of the bed as Winifred slid pillows beneath his head.

“Rest now, Sir Albin.” Winifred opened the shutters to allow the cool breeze to enter the stagnant room. “Lecie will no doubt be in soon to check on you.”

“My wife is in a fit of temper at the moment.” Closing his eyes with a slight smile, Albin allowed himself to relax.

“That she is,” Winifred admitted. “She is also beset with worry about you, as we all are.”

“It would take more than this to defeat my will.” Albin felt himself slipping into unconsciousness. “Besides, I have too much to live for to die now.”

Passing through the crowded common room during the evening meal, Lecie headed straight for the brewing shed. She nearly pulled the door from the iron hinges as she stormed inside to the startled surprise of Betta.

“By all that is holy, you gave me a fright.” Clutching the neckline of her worn kirtle, Betta straightened from a barrel of hops.

“Forgive me, Betta,” Lecie murmured. “I thought I would make myself useful and check on the stores of barley.”

Eyeing Lecie with worry, Betta gestured to the full barrels. “The new men Sir Albin hired are seeing well to the stores.”

“I am glad to hear it.” Not in the mood to talk, Lecie turned for the door. “I am going for a walk.”

“I am praying for his recovery,” Betta spoke softly.

Without turning, Lecie hung her head as she paused on her way out. “Thank you. I fear I am worried despite my husband’s assurances.”

“Then perhaps taking a walk is not what you should be doing right now.”

“You are right,” Lecie agreed. “Despite the fact he has the ability to infuriate me, my place is with Albin.” Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled. “Thank you for reminding me of that fact.”

“I am not such a lost soul as some might think.”

“No, you most certainly are not.”             

Pausing in the kitchen, Lecie poured a cup of ale and grabbed a loaf of fresh baked bread for Albin.

Briefly stopping to return a greeting to an acquaintance in the common room, she asked Simon if a messenger had arrived from Castell Maen. Acknowledging the negative reply with a weary nod, she headed up the steps. 

Tugger anxiously scratching and growling at the closed master chamber’s door had her dropping the cup and bread she held as she rushed the rest of the way down the passageway.

The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as the massive dog turned soulful eyes to her as if pleading with her to hurry.

Her heart pounding, Lecie twisted the latch to the master chamber. As Tugger lunged inside, it took a moment for her mind to catch up to what she was witnessing.

Hamon stood hovering over an unconscious Albin with a pillow poised only inches above his face.

Lecie’s eyes flew to Albin’s chest to confirm he still lived. Her eyes moving to the pillow a flashback image of the pillow she picked up from the floor on the day of her father’s death assailed her.

With hackles raised, Tugger snarled and growled low as Hamon slowly straightened to back away from the dog.

Fixated on the pillow, rage consumed Lecie as she approached the bed. “You bastard, you murdered my father and are trying to kill my husband!” 

Hamon’s look of surprise switched to one of malice as he again lowered the pillow over Albin’s face. “This time, I shall not fail.”

“Tugger, attack,” she called as she hiked up her skirts to leap on the bed.

Snarling, Tugger surged forward to clamp down on Hamon’s calf. Jerking his head back and forth, the dog’s teeth broke skin. Blood oozed from the puncture wounds as Tugger’s paws scrambled for purchase on the polished wood as he attempted to pull Hamon away from his master’s side.

With a bellow of rage, Hamon hefted the stoneware cup on the nightstand to smash it against Tugger’s snout. Yelping in pain, the dog refused to loosen his grip until after repeated blows against his head and snout broke the cup.

With a last loud whine of pain, Tugger took several faltering steps to fall unmoving beneath the window.  

“No,” Lecie screamed throwing herself off the bed on top of Hamon. Pummeling him with her fists, she cried out for someone to help her.

“Enough of this,” Hamon hissed. Swinging his arm back, he struck Lecie hard in the stomach with his elbow.

Buckling from the winded blow, her foot caught in the flowing hem of her skirts. Tensing for impact as she lost her balance, she slammed backwards into the dresser, striking her head as she tumbled to the floor.

“I shall deal with you shortly,” Hamon ground out. Scooping up the pillow, he returned to Albin’s side.

Dazed and winded, Lecie struggled to rise. Planting her hand on the top of the dresser, she painfully pulled herself up.

Searching for a way to stop Hamon, she reached for Albin’s sword. Lifting the heavy weapon, she struggled to slide the steel blade from its sheath.

“You always did enjoy playing the man.” Amused by her attempts to stop him, Hamon chuckled. “I shall soon show you how a real man treats his woman.”

Albin began to weakly flail on the bed as Hamon pressed his full weight upon the feather pillow, cutting off his air supply.

In desperation, Lecie dropped the sword in search for another weapon and spotted Albin’s silver dinner knife on top of the dresser.

Snatching it up by the intricately carved handle, she flung herself forward against Hamon’s unprotected back. “Get away from him, you lowborn knave.”

Hamon’s grunt of pain filled the silence as he reached behind his head in an attempt to remove the knife embedded to the hilt between his shoulder blades.

His arms fell to his sides as he turned to face her with a look of disbelief.  Staggering towards her, his eyes bore into her as they began to lose focus. “I always knew you were a bitch.”

Hamon’s knees slammed into the floorboards before he pitched face forward dead at her feet.

“You slayed him!” The high-pitched screech from the doorway had Lecie spinning around. “You murdered my Hamon.” Her chest heaving, Gunilda stood staring in shock at Hamon’s life-blood staining the wood beneath his prone body.

Ignoring her, Lecie shoved the pillow away from Albin’s face as she slid beside him on the bed. “Albin, speak to me.”

Tears slipped from her eyes as she cradled his head. Only when he moaned weakly did she begin to sob in relief. 

Lecie was unaware of Harsent rushing into the room followed by a host of other people. Only when Winifred gently pried her fingers away from Albin’s shoulder did she have a realization of the chaotic scene that had been happening around her.

“Lecie, Sheriff Richard and his sons are below.” Winifred gently wiped the tears from Lecie’s cheeks with the edge of the bed covering. “He has already taken Gunilda and Harsent’s statements and he needs to speak with you now.”

“Tugger,” Lecie spoke so softly, Winifred could barely make out the name. “Where is he?”

“He is alive and with Master Clayton,” Winifred assured her. “Mary took the children for a walk by the river until this matter is sorted out.” 

Turning wide frightened eyes to Hamon’s blanket-covered body, Lecie nodded her thanks as Winifred guided her from the chamber.

Gunilda was speaking to Harsent in hushed tones in the corner of the common room when Lecie and Winifred appeared. Empty except for the staff, the sheriff sat at a table beside the hearth with his sons Leofrick, Edmund and Frederick standing silently behind him.

“Have a seat, Lecie.” Extending a hand to the chair across from him, the sheriff waited for her to comply. Taking in her pallor and trembling hands, he leaned back in his chair. “Can you explain to us what happened?”

Clasping her shaking hands together, Lecie swallowed hard. “Hamon was about to murder my husband the same way he murdered my Da.”

“Did you say Hamon murdered your father?” The sheriff shared a perplexed look with his sons. “Edric was not murdered, Lecie. He died of the withering disease.”

“It is true my father was dying, yet it was Hamon who hastened his passing along, Sheriff.”

“How is it you believe Hamon killed your father?”

“He smothered him with a pillow and was about to do the same to Albin.”

“She lies,” Gunilda called stepping forward. “She is bound to say anything to protect her neck from the noose.”

“Silence,” the sheriff hissed to Gunilda. Satisfied when she plopped down into a chair, he returned his attention to Lecie. “If you did indeed believe such a thing, why did you not mention it before now, Lecie?”

“I did not realize he murdered my father until I saw him holding the pillow over Albin’s face above,” Lecie murmured. “When I confronted him with the truth, Hamon admitted it to me.”

“Perhaps we should continue this talk in private, Father,” Leofrick spoke after taking in the rapt staff surrounding them.

“Aye,” the sheriff acknowledged skimming the group with his eyes. “The rest of you wait in the garden until summoned. I still have questions for all of you.”

“I did not warrant such consideration,” Gunilda griped as she shoved back her chair to stand. “I was questioned as if it were me who plunged the knife into poor Hamon’s back.”

“Owing to your chosen profession, you are not a lady befitting such consideration,” the sheriff replied without pause. Eyeing Harsent with a calculating gaze as she fidgeted nervously beside Gunilda, he added, “Do not leave the premises until after I have questioned you both again.”

Harsent’s frightened eyes flew to Gunilda as if looking for guidance.

Pulling her along to follow the rest of the departing staff, Gunilda called, “Unlike Lecie, we have nothing to hide.”

Winifred held back as the room cleared to address the sheriff. “My lady is still beside herself after what has transpired. May I please have permission to serve her something to ease her discomfort?”

“See to your lady.” Sheriff Richard dipped his head. “If you will be so kind, you may serve us all.”

Winifred gently squeezed Lecie’s shoulder after serving her a cup of cider and the men ale. “I shall wait outside with the others, should you have need of me.”

“Very well.” Taking a long swallow of ale, the sheriff set his cup down. “Now then…” He broke off as the front door opened to admit Justice de Glanville in his somber black garb.

Followed by his clerk, hunched over by the weight of the leather pack he carried, the justice’s dark eyes assessed the scene. “Your son Caine informed me that I would find you here, Sheriff.”

“Justice de Glanville,” the sheriff replied with a glance to his sons as he stood. “What an unexpected pleasure this is. We did not expect you back so soon.”

“I was fortunate to conclude the king’s business in a timely manner.” Waving him back into his seat, Justice de Glanville strode forward. “I assumed your daughter Mylla would be with you, as she is not at your home.”

“She departed with her mother not an hour ago to visit with kin in the next village,” the sheriff responded. “Can one of my sons bring you refreshment?”

“Ale is fine.” Taking the empty seat beside Lecie, Justice de Glanville eyed her shrewdly. “So we meet again.”

“You are acquainted with Lady Lecie, my lord justice?”

“
Lady
Lecie? You did not tell me such when we were introduced at the festival,” he spoke to Lecie in an accusatory manner.

“I have only been recently wed, my lord justice.”

“I see.” Justice de Glanville dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “When will your daughter return, Sheriff?”

“She and my wife are expected to return within a sennight.” Sheriff Richard shifted uneasily as he dipped his head to Leofrick to serve the justice. “My wife’s widowed uncle has fallen ill and they are attending him.”

“I declare myself disappointed. I informed your daughter of my return visit and had hoped she would be waiting to attend me.” Accepting the cup of ale from Leofrick without acknowledgement, Justice de Glanville kept his steely gaze fixed on Lecie. “I take it this is not a friendly visit. What business brings you here, Sheriff?”

“We are investigating the death of the former tapster of this establishment,” Sheriff Richard seemed hesitant to respond. “There appear to be conflicting stories as to what occurred.”

“How very interesting.” Justice de Glanville brightened. “Tell me, what does this young woman with the witch eyes have to do with the event in question?”

Sheriff Richard cast Lecie a sympathetic gaze. “Lady Lecie runs the inn in trust for her younger brother, Clayton. She wielded the weapon of the man’s demise.”

“I see.” Taking a sip of ale, Justice de Glanville set the cup down. “And what have you surmised thus far?”

“Two tavern wenches swear they saw Lady Lecie stab the tapster in the back without provocation.”  

Lecie’s startled gaze flew to the sheriff, yet she managed to remain silent.

“Surprised there were witnesses to your foul deed, my
lady
?” Justice de Glanville smoothly interjected. “Bewitching as they may be, your eyes quite clearly give your thoughts away.”

“There were no witnesses present until after the fact.” Lecie met the justice’s penetrating gaze to respond. “If there were anyone near, I would have begged assist in keeping Hamon from slaying my husband.”

“Your husband?” Justice de Glanville questioned sternly. “If he has not been slain, why then is he not here to clear this matter up?”

“He is gravely ill and unable to speak for himself, after being felled by a stray crossbow quarrel, Justice de Glanville,” Sheriff Richard spoke on Lecie’s behalf. “Lady Lecie is wife to Sir Albin, Knight to Baron Erlegh.”