Courtly Love (16 page)

For his part, Gyles felt his long restrained desire burst forth, and he kissed Serena savagely. He swept her from her feet and carried her into his chamber, pausing only to close the adjoining door. Serena slipped from his arms and, while, Gyles watched, slowly unwound the towel that covered her. Gyles hurriedly shed his clothes and they came together with a ferocity that drove all considerations—save the need to become one—from their minds. With a show of urgency she had never displayed before, Serena pulled Gyles to the bed. Serena's need inflamed Gyles's passion further and he rolled on top of her, anxious to possess Serena immediately.

"No, Gyles! Not yet!" Serena said, breathlessly.

Confused, Gyles rolled to his back, then his breath escaped sharply as Serena followed him. She kissed him deeply while her fingers explored his firmly muscled body more daringly than before. While Serena had been well-pleased with Gyles's ardor, she had never dared to take the initiative in their love-making, but had done only what Gyles had instructed. Gyles's words this afternoon had changed all that, for Serena realized that she had withheld a tiny portion of herself because she had never been sure what Gyles's feelings toward her had been. Now she felt the need to give Gyles as much pleasure as he had given her. Duplicating Gyles's actions with her, Serena pressed her lips softly against the places her hands had already touched. Gyles's breathing became labored as Serena's hand closed around his hardness; he arched his hips upward and he groaned softly.

"Serena!" Gyles said with a harsh urgency.

She smiled, then moved to lay astride Gyles, fitting her contours closely against him. Gyles drove into Serena with a savagery that caused her to gasp before she felt him begin to move within her. Soon Serena moved with an urgency all her own as she felt the by now familiar tension build within her. Gyles's movements, too, had altered, and together they began to scale the mountain that would lead to their complete fulfillment. As a wild cry escaped Gyles's lips Serena felt the ecstasy burst within her. Quivering with spent pleasure; entwined together, they drifted into contented sleep.

A
utumn grew colder, the winds sharper as they howled around the guard towers of Camden, and Serena directed the preparations that would make the castle as snug as possible during the winter. Tanned animal hides were stretched taut over windows and arrow slits, wooden shutters were placed over the hides and Serena insisted that curtains be made out of heavy material and hung in front of the shutters. Serena had been appalled that this had not been done before. She had enlisted both Mara's and Lydia's skills to make the curtains. How she had secured their co-operation Gyles did not know, and he had no desire to find out.

Trees were felled, limbs and trunks cut to acceptable size and hauled back to the castle—under Serena's watchful eye. The wood was distributed to each room and the excess stored in the lower level of the castle in the keep where it would remain dry. When Gyles complained that the space the logs occupied might be needed for poachers or other offenders. Serena rounded on him and told her husband that if he wished to remain well-fed and warm during the cold months to come he should leave her to attend to her duties and occupy himself elsewhere. Edward stifled a laugh as his fearsome, arrogant overlord made haste to comply with his wife's demands.

The larder also fell under Serena's intense scrutiny, and she conferred with the cook and the cook's assistants as to the seasoning and preserving of the different meats. Since game would become difficult to find after the first snowfall, Serena burst in upon Gyles and his men as they indulged in a leisurely evening bout of quaffing ale, and informed them that on the morrow they would bring into Camden an assortment of venison, quail, boar, and such small game as could be found. She ignored their groans of protest, and flashed them a saucy grin and a reprimand about keeping late hours when they must rise early. What meat could be stored would not last the winter; so the livestock the serfs gave in payment for their taxes were driven into a quickly erected stable so that a fresh supply of meat would be close at hand.

One by one, Serena checked off items on the list she had made, until at last, one evening in their chamber, Serena collapsed into a chair with a sigh of relief. It was finished. Camden would withstand the cold weather better than it had before. The parchment fluttered from Serena's limp fingers—she was tired from the weeks of hectic activity. Gradually her eyes closed and her head rested against the back of the chair.

Gyles entered his chamber with a light step, pausing on the threshold when he caught sight of Serena curled in a chair by the fire. Gyles shut the door as quietly as possible, a tender expression softening his features when his wife stirred, sensing his presence.

"Serena?" Gyles shook her gently. Sleep blurred eyes flickered open and he smiled. "I'm cold, wife, come to bed and warm me." Gyles carried Serena to the bed and stripped first her, then himself. When he turned back, Gyles discovered that Serena had curled up and returned to her exhausted slumber. The bed sank under Gyles's weight and he pulled the covers over them both. Serena snuggled up to Gyles and his arm fell about her waist, as he placed a kiss upon her lips. "Sleep well, cherie," Gyles whispered.

The loss of warmth beside her brought Serena fully awake and she sat up, pulling the linen sheet over her exposed breasts. Gyles was feeding another log to the fire and he straightened and gave Serena a brief smile.

"I was going to wake you when the chill was driven from the room. Nellwyn is waiting for you in the hall. One of the village women is in travail and is having difficulty—she requires your skill with herbs."

Serena slipped quickly from the bed and hurried to the fireplace to dress. Gyles collected the chest that contained her medicines and Serena's cloak. "Did Nellwyn say how long the woman has labored?"

Gyles nodded. "It has been a full day." Gyles cast a worried glance at Serena. "Perhaps you could tell Nellwyn what herbs to use." A birthing as prolonged as this was not pleasant, and Gyles was concerned that his tender-hearted wife could not bear to watch such suffering in another.

"Nonsense, Gyles. If I can be of help, I shall go gladly. Go back to bed." Serena wrapped herself in her cloak and hurried from the room.

The hut was stifling when Serena entered, and the stench that assaulted her nostrils was overpowering. A woman not much older than herself lay on a thin pallet, her face ashen, lines of pain etched deeply around her mouth. The woman's husband knelt beside her, his hands holding hers with an intensity that caused his knuckles to whiten. The stricken look on the man's face when he raised his eyes to Serena's tore at her heart. The midwife came forward out of the shadows.

"I've done everything within my ken to bring her child into this world alive," the midwife said in a hushed voice. She raised her hands in despair. "What more can we do?"

Serena's bottom lip caught in her teeth. When she spoke, her voice was equally low. "Perhaps if I gave her a potion to relieve the pain for a bit, she would regain the strength she needs."

The midwife considered this. "It could do no harm," she said at last. "But 'twould be of more help if you could make something that will increase the length of the pains. It may already be too late; I fear the child may be dead by now."

"Then we must try to save the mother. Is it too late for her as well?" Serena asked hurriedly.

The midwife gestured in despair. "I do not know."

Nellwyn had already busied herself placing clean linens beneath the laboring woman and soothing both the woman and her husband. Now she returned to Serena and the midwife. "We'd best hurry, lamb, for her strength cannot last longer." Nellwyn seemed completely calm, and Serena was reassured by her presence.

Outside the wind howled and tore at the hut while the trio set about their work. The husband settled into a spot by his wife's head, where he would not obstruct the ministrations of the three women. Setting water to heat in the fire, Serena selected three different leaves from her chest and ground them into a fine powder. When the water was warm, Serena added it to the powder and brought the mixture to the young woman.

Serena knelt beside the pallet and raised the woman's head until it rested in the crook of her arm. Pain-filled eyes looked up at her beseechingly and Serena tried to smile. "This will ease the pain you feel," Serena explained. "It will also increase the contractions so your child will be born soon." Serena held the bowl to the woman's lips and she drank willingly, eager for anything that would end the torment she was in. When the bowl was emptied, Serena nodded to the midwife to do what she could to aid the child's entry into the world.

The night dragged on; snow began to fall, driving through the cracks in the hut's walls. The woman moaned and twisted on the thin mattress, catching Serena's hands in a crushing grip when the spasms reached their peak, until Serena was certain her fingers would be broken. How long could this go on, Serena wondered as she felt the pressure on her hands begin yet again. Outside, dawn was breaking, but the only indication of that to the people in the hut was a lessening of the grayness that surrounded them. The potion had long since worn off, and Serena dared not give the woman another. Shrill cries burst from the woman's lips and Serena longed to rash from the mean hut and escape to the protection of her own room. Perspiration soaked both the woman and the pallet on which she lay, and her cries became inhuman, animal whines that pounded against Serena's ears until she was near screaming herself. And still the torment continued.

* * *

Gyles sat, chin in hand, studying the pieces on the chessboard, his brow furrowed in concentration. A grin split his features, suddenly, and his long, lean fingers lifted a piece from the board and then replaced it in a different square. "Checkmate," Gyles laughed at his opponent. Gyles's smile faded as Nellwyn passed through the hall and made her way toward Serena's chamber— which Serena now used only to store her clothes. Gyles lost no time in following the nurse. He found her searching through one of Serena's trunks. "Nellwyn?"

Nellwyn started, then relaxed, clutching a parcel to her ample bosom. "Aye, m'lord?"

"Where is your mistress?"

Nellwyn's eyes shifted to the floor. "My Lady is still in the village. She bade me return and fetch one of her gowns."

The nurse was maddeningly uninformative—whether deliberately or not, Gyles did not know—but Gyles was determined to learn how Serena had fared. "Is Serena tending the child?"

"Both the babe and its mother, m'lord," Nellwyn said slowly. "Ye must have a care with me lamb when she returns. She has seen much during the night and it may have changed her."

Gyles felt a prickle of fear. "They are both dead?" Nellwyn nodded. Without hesitation Gyles strode to his own chamber and returned, swinging his cloak over his broad shoulders as he went. "Serena will have need of me; I shall go with you."

Nellwyn looked doubtful, but there was nothing she could do. So she led Gyles through the storm to the hut where Serena waited. The scene that greeted Gyles drew him up short. The lifeless infant lay on a clean piece of linen; its tiny body had been washed so that none of the debris of its birth still clung to it. Indeed the babe looked to be sleeping. Serena was kneeling beside the mother's pallet, smoothing the damp hair off the woman's face. When Serena turned she seemed unaware of Gyles's presence; only beckoning to Nellwyn to come forward. The midwife had stripped the woman's soiled clothes away, and Gyles now realized why Serena had sent for another gown.

The midwife took the gown from Nellwyn and then spoke to Serena. "Your nurse and I will see to what else needs to be done, m'lady. There is no need for you to tarry here." Serena rose stiffly. "Perhaps, m'lady, if you could send for the priest?"

Serena nodded. Then she went to the man who sat rocking to and fro on the hearth. Her hand rested gently on his shoulder and he raised a tear-streaked face to her.

"She was a good lass, my Ellen," he said thickly. "Never a mean word for anyone." He began to sob and Serena knelt beside him, seeking a way to comfort him, though she knew none was possible. "Why?" The man asked brokenly of Serena. "Why?"

Serena shook her head. "A priest would say 'tis God's will... but I... I do not know."

Abruptly the man buried his face in Serena's lap and wept uncontrollably while she stroked his hair tenderly, her own tears spilling from her eyes. Gyles moved into the room and carefully covered the infant; sheltering the tiny, perfect body from view. He turned his attention to the woman and the sight of her tortured body. Gyles knew a fear so great that it turned his heart to ice and his limbs to water. The woman's form was chilling in its similarity to Serena's; long, delicate limbs, slim torso, a tiny waist that a man could easily span with two hands, and above all, narrow hips, which, while thev could entice a man to lust, were far too small to accommodate a child of any size. Before his eyes, the woman's lifeless face became Serena's, the raven hair that tumbled over the pillow turned to golden brown.

The man in her arms had quieted, and Serena now noticed Gyles as he stood, his gaze riveted on the lifeless form at his feet. Serena's tears stemmed from the frustration she felt at being unable to do anything to save the woman and her child. Childbirth was the natural way of things, and it was a rare case indeed where the babe was presented backward into the world as this one had been. Serena had assisted Nellwyn many times with a birthing when she lived at Broughton and this was the first time she had seen a woman die in travail. Serena knew that if Nellwyn had been summoned earlier, both babe and mother would now be living. The simple fact was that the woman had been allowed to labor too long and had exhausted her reserves of strength. Had Serena arrived sooner, the potion she had made would have brought the child into the world quickly. The midwife was not to be blamed, for she was young and had never witnessed a breech birth before. Inwardly, Serena railed at unkind fate and her own helplessness, but she had no fear for herself should she ever be blessed with carrying Gyles's child.

Serena slipped into her cloak, then went to stand beside Gyles. His face was rigid with tension and when she touched his cheek lightly, Serena was startled by the anger that clouded Gyles's green eyes when he swung to face her. "Let us go, Gyles, there is naught left for me to do here." Gyles stared, unseeing, down at her. Frightened, Serena tugged at his arm. "Gyles, we must leave him to mourn in peace. Gyles, please!"

The urgency in Serena's voice brought Gyles to his senses and with a curt nod he led Serena from the hut and back to the castle in total silence. Serena mounted the stairs, pausing when Gyles did not accompany her, but instead halted and gazed up at her.

"Rest, Serena. I shall wake you for the evening meal." Serena reached out to touch him, but Gyles backed away. "When Nellwyn returns I will send her to you to see if there is anything you need." Gyles wheeled and walked through the great hall and outside.

Hurt and confused, Serena retired to their chamber where she fell onto the bed to stare at the ceiling until sheer exhaustion forced her into sleep.