One
score to add fuel to his already-raging fire. Tad's mood served to deepen his
sense of retaliation against a man who seemed intent to make an example out of
him. Whereas Richmond was playing a game, the heir to Goring Hall viewed
Richmond's score as a personal insult.
When
the match commenced once more, it did so with vengeance. Richmond and
Bartholomew took charge of the ball again, stealing it from a de Becket soldier
and rushing it nearly the entire length of the field before an opposing player
managed to snatch it from Richmond and carry it in the opposite direction.
Like
a group of naughty boys, the grown men gave chase until the soldier was
unceremoniously tripped, by Daniel no less, and sent to the ground. In a mad
swarm, a host of men descended upon the hapless player and nearly crushed him
in their haste to regain the ball.
The
first team to gain five points was the winner; therefore, there were no time
limits. As the afternoon progressed and the lively game continued, Lambourn's
team managed to gain three points and was close to gaining their fourth thanks
to Richmond's deft skills. At times the game bordered on a melee, but it was a
good-natured violence if such a thing was possible. The crowd yelled
themselves hoarse all in the name of merriment.
And
The Horde was no exception. As Emma and Penelope cheered themselves ill, Arissa
realized her legs were growing numb with her sister's weight and she was
seriously considering asking her sister to remove her person. She took her eyes
off the field long enough to shift her deadening bottom on the stool when she
suddenly heard her friends gasp.
"Richmond's
been hurt!" Penelope cried.
Arissa
stood up so fast that Regine fell to her knees. In a panic, she saw that the
game had come to a halt and the two teams were huddled in a tight crowd in one
corner of the field. The officials and the earl himself were making their way
onto the turf.
"Dear
God," Arissa breathed. "How.... how do you know it was
Richmond?"
"He
was running with the ball when a group of men pounced on him," Emma said
urgently. "He’s the only man who has not risen to stand."
Arissa
did not wait. She pushed through the crowd of spectators hovering at the edge
of the field and made way onto the trampled grass. The entire game had come to
a halt and an uneasy silence settled as she picked her way across the
partially-destroyed heath. She could see her father's concerned expression as
he gazed down at the injured player and it fed her panic all the more.
"Father!"
she called out. "What's happened?"
William
saw her approaching and abruptly moved toward her. "Richmond's been
injured, Riss. Nothing to worry over."
She
could feel the color draining from her cheeks. "Nothing to worry over? I
must see him!"
"There
is nothing to see. His men will take care of him," he grasped her by the
shoulders and turned her about. "Return to your friends, dearest. The game
will be resumed in a moment."
"No!"
she dug her heels into the soft earth, twisting away from him. "I want to
see Richmond!"
William
sighed heavily, his meaty hands on his hips. "Arissa, he does not need
your bothersome presence. You shall only interfere. Now be a good lass and do
as I say. Return to Penelope and Emma."
Bothersome.
Arissa's eyes filled with tears
and she obediently turned away from her father, a man with little patience and
even less understanding. Although he never meant to be deliberately cruel, he
conveyed a callous attitude nonetheless. Sniffles turned into soft sobs as she
walked away and, somewhere above the noise of the crowd, she thought she heard
Richmond's voice.
She
couldn't make out his words, but it was a distinct relief simply to hear him
speak. At least he was not unconscious, or worse. William's insensitive command
echoed in her ears and she fought the urge to go to Richmond in spite of her
father's orders, knowing that he was most likely correct in his assessment of
her presence. Still weeping, she continued on her way until a loud shout
stopped her.
It
was Richmond.
He
was on his feet, parting the group of men that were surrounding him. His nose
was bloodied and there was a nasty cut over his left eye, and he appeared to be
leaning heavily on Daniel for support. He looked weary and beaten.
Her
father's words forgotten, Arissa turned on her heel and closed the gap between
them.
"Are
you badly injured?" she demanded softly, her misty eyes wide with concern.
He
smiled weakly, touching her cheek. "Nay, kitten. I just need a bit of a
rest, ‘tis all."
In
spite of the fact that she couldn't hope to support a man of his size, she
slung his other arm across her small shoulders and put her arm around his
waist, determined to help him walk.
"I
shall tend you myself," she said firmly. "It looks as if you may
require a stitch over your eye."
William
moved beside them, scrutinizing Richmond closely. "I saw what happened,
Richmond. I have already lodged a stern protest with the officials."
Richmond
waved him off, his ears ringing and his head spinning. "'Tis merely a
game, William. No need for protests."
"What
happened?" Arissa demanded, looking to her father.
William's
face was hard. "Tad de Rydal. He hit Richmond across the face with his
stick."
Arissa's
mouth opened in outrage as Richmond nodded his head gingerly. "Right on
the mark, too. I shall wager he’s broken my nose."
Arissa's
eyes were wide at Richmond as she studied his beautiful face, now swollen with
injury. She turned to her father. "You must dismiss him from Lambourn this
instant, Father. Surely you cannot allow him to remain after what he’s done."
William
nodded sharply. "Certainly not. He’s all but ruined your birthday and I
shall not have it. I shall not have it, I say!"
He
turned abruptly on his heel and marched back across the turf, shouting at the
officials and players alike. Satisfied that Tad was already on his way home,
Arissa patted Richmond tenderly.
"I
shall take good care of you," she whispered.
He
gazed down at her dark head, his eyes watering with the pain in his nose.
"I know."
***
The
Stick and Ball game was all but forgotten as Arissa and Daniel took Richmond
into the castle. Although his head was clearing somewhat, he had trouble
navigating the stairs and teetered dangerously more than once. Daniel had to
practically carry him to the bower he usually occupied on his visits to
Lambourn.
Penelope
and Emma had followed them from the field and stood hovering nervously as
Arissa and Daniel settled Richmond in the massive bed. They were eager to help
Arissa tend Richmond's wounds when Mossy suddenly entered the chamber, a
dilapidated bag clutched in his ancient hands.
"Out!"
he waved at the cluster of people. "All of ye, out! I cannot tend the man
with the gaggle of ye hanging about."
Emma
and Penelope leapt out of the old man's path, moving obediently towards the
door. Daniel was shoved aside as Mossy dumped his bag on the edge of the
bedrug. He peered closely at Richmond's face.
"Heard
what happened," he muttered. "De Rydal vengeance for beating him in
the archery competition, eh?"
Richmond
did not flinch as the old man touched his swelling nose. "Among other
insults dealt. And just how did you find out about my injury so quickly? Did
your bubbling cauldron whisper my name?"
Mossy
cocked a sparse eyebrow at the implication. "A panicked soldier with eyes
as wide a saucers came bursting into my sanctuary. I thought he had come
bearing a message of import until I discovered he only carried news of
you."
"Your
concern is overwhelming."
Mossy
grunted and opened his bag. Immediately, a small rabbit burst forth and
skittered across the floor, disappearing under the wardrobe. Penelope and Emma
barely had time to shriek, but Mossy hardly registered a reaction.
"Damn
rabbits. They like to nest in my bag," he rummaged through the faded brown
satchel. Drawing forth an envelope, he sprinkled a bit of white powder into a
pewter cup. "Put some wine in it," he instructed Arissa, who moved
quickly to do his bidding. Returning with the full cup, Mossy thrust it at
Richmond. "Drink this."
Richmond
eyed the contents. "What did you put in it?"
"Poppy.
It will ease the ache."
Richmond
shook his head slowly. "I cannot. It will put me to sleep for days."
Mossy
raised his eyebrows. "So ye'd rather suffer?"
"Do
you question my fortitude?"
Mossy
snorted and set the cup aside. "'Tis not yer fortitude I would question,
but yer sanity." From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Penelope,
Emma and Daniel, still grouped by the open door. He frowned severely. "I
told ye to get out. Are ye daft?"
Emma
quickly slipped from the room as Penelope grasped Daniel's arm in an attempt to
encourage him to obey Mossy's command. But the young knight was reluctant to
comply.
"Do
you require me any longer, Richmond?"
Richmond
shook his head, watching Mossy rummage through his bag once more. "Nay,
Daniel, I believe I am in good hands."
Daniel
passed a glance at the ancient man, as old as the sky and then some. A faint
gleam came to his eye as he observed the crusty old crone. "Mossy, I have
always been curious. How did you acquire your name?"
Mossy
drew forth a few items. "Ye ask me that now? Daniel Ellsrod, ye've been at
Lambourn for two years come January."
Daniel
grinned, ignoring Penelope's silent urging. "I have never had an interest
until now."
"Ye
selected a peculiar moment to ask."
"Answer
me and I shall go. Why are you called Mossy?"
Richmond
looked to the young knight. "Because he’s so old that moss grows on his
limbs. And he cannot stand in one spot for too long else his feet with take
root."
Daniel's
eyes widened and he sputtered a loud guffaw. "Is that so?"
Mossy
examined a length of silk thread. "It is. Do ye need to see the
proof?"
Daniel
shook his head and, still snorting, followed Penelope into the corridor. He had
no sooner moved into the hall when a soldier suddenly appeared in his place,
his face flushed with excitement.
"Mossy,
Lord William demands you come. Bartholomew has been injured."
Mossy
looked up from his thread sharply. "Injured? What happened?"
The
soldier swallowed, his flush deepening as he glanced at Arissa. "He... he’s
been hit... that is to say, he’s in a good deal of pain."
"Ye
did not answer my question. How badly is he injured?"
The
soldiers swallowed hard, a ripple of fright creasing his features when Richmond
focused his hard gaze on him. Weighing the options, he found he was willing to
risk great embarrassment in lieu of Richmond le Bec's anger.
"He
took a stick to the groin," he mumbled. "Lord William demands you
tend him, as he’s heir to the earldom. He fears for the continuation of the
family line."
Mossy
stared at the soldier for a moment as if to disbelieve what he had been told.
Sighing, he set the thread to a nearby table and extracted several other items
from his bag, including a delicate embroidery needle and a wad of linen.
"Riss,
ye'll have to sew Richmond's cut," he collected his bag, forgetting about
the errant rabbit. "I have got to tend yer foolish brother to guarantee
him a son."
Arissa
watched him scuffle from the room, moving to close the door behind him. The
awareness of suddenly being alone with Richmond was almost more than she could
bear and a faint mottle crept into her cheeks as she returned to the table by
his bedside.
With
a quivering hand, she poured water from a pewter pitcher into a small bowl
Mossy had left. "I.... I do hope Bart is all right."
A
massive hand suddenly shot out, snatching her by the wrist. Arissa barely had
time to set the pitcher to the table when she was suddenly pulled onto the bed
beside him. With her next breath, she found herself gazing into eyes of bright
blue.
"Forget
about Bart. You should only be concerned with me."
A
timid smile creased her lips. "I am only concerned with you, as I have
always been. Am I not preparing to tend your wound?"
A
dark eyebrow raised. His face was looming closer. "I was not speaking of
wounds, Riss."
His
mouth was on her before she could draw another breath. Arissa forgot everything
at that moment; his injury, her brother, the world in general. When his warm,
tender lips touched hers, all of the love and emotion she had ever felt for him
melded into one glorious burst and she was vaguely aware of her hands in his
hair, holding him tightly.