Her desertion didn’t matter. He’d been alone most of his life. He liked it that way. Responsible only to his king, his commander, his men. Women always came easily to him and left just as easily. No entanglements. Time he remembered that, and why he was on this island. His hand grasped the medallion around his neck.
This
should be his focus.
Still, the room seemed emptier than before. He paced the few steps allowed by the tiny chamber, restless to speed his healing. A soft sound in the hallway made his breath hitch. Emelin. He turned, anticipation filling him. It drained when a nun pushed through, carrying a packet, a pitcher, and a candle.
“I’m Sister Ressa.” Her voice was calm, her manner contained. She set the pitcher on the table and motioned. “Lie down, please. Let me see your side. And don’t look at me like that.”
Giles realized he’d been staring, but he stood his ground against the tiny whirlwind.
The one-sided conversation continued as she unfolded the cloth packet. “I’m the one who dug the metal out of your side.” She waved her fingers. “Sit, sit.”
God’s blood. Did all the women in England order their men around like queens? He sat. She moved the open shirt aside and untied the linen bandage.
“You’re up too soon,” she pronounced. “You must be still so you can heal.” But her frown smoothed as the examination proceeded. A finger poked his side, and her sparse gray brow arched. “Incredible. I’ve never seen flesh mend this quickly.”
Apparently she didn’t expect him to answer, because she continued to speak as she looked him over. “From the scars you bear, I’d say you’ve had much practice at recovering from wounds. Remember, there’s just so much the body can take. No one is invincible. Even our Lord Jesus faced mortal death. Take better care of yourself.”
With that order, she gathered her supplies. “Rest now. I must visit one of the men-at-arms who returned earlier. His arm I can set. It’s the arrow wound to his shoulder that gives me concern. It went without care too long.”
There had been an attack? Why had no one told him? Giles was on his feet before Sister Ressa could move out of his way. “Where did this happen, Sister? Is this castle in danger?”
“Be calm. There’s no threat to Granville. He is one of the soldiers who went with the king’s man. I believe they were set upon by raiders.”
Giles stepped around the nun and made the short distance to the door before her voice stopped him.
“No, no.” Her voice was quiet but its warning stopped him. “Everyone is asleep. It’s after matins, but I wanted to assure myself you’re recovering. Tomorrow I return to Lincoln. The Lord be with you.” She placed her hand on his arm as she passed, the touch surprisingly calming.
“Thank you for all your care, Sister.” Giles followed her to the corridor, watched the flickering candlelight. Blackness extended to the right and left. It
was
night. He might as well rest, prepare for the morrow when he’d investigate that injured man-at-arms.
Returning to the comfortable straw mattress, he stretched out and sighed. Conflicted thoughts and emotions roiled in his head; he’d never sleep.
The next he knew, something brought him awake. The night candle had gone out and coals in the brazier were too low to light the room. He squinted into the dark as he rose.
“Silverhawk?” Davy’s voice floated from the vicinity of the doorway just before he and his candle stepped inside. “The guard’s spotted an army comin’ this way. I think it’s soldiers from Langley. Want’a leave while we can?”
Would Lord Osbert send an entire army after Emelin? “I thought you said only two trackers followed the lady and me.”
“’S’all I saw leave,” Davy insisted. “Maybe they went back for reinforcements.”
Giles reached for a clean shirt folded on the floor beside a tunic. “Is Sir Thomas awake? Where’s Lady Emelin?”
“It’s mornin’. They’re all breakin’ their fast in the ’all. ’Cept Sir Thomas’s gone out to the gate. Thought you ought’a know.”
“You did right.” Giles nodded to the leather bag Emelin had left the day before. “Pack me those things on the table. Don’t forget the jar.” Davy scurried to obey.
“
Merde
.” The muffled curse escaped Giles as he pulled on the tunic. He’d been abed too long, lulled into a false sense of safety. Never before had he allowed physical comforts to interfere so totally.
“What’ll we do?” The lad sounded eager. Soon enough he’d learn danger wasn’t a game.
“I’ll see who comes. If it’s men from Langley, we’ll leave.”
Davy halted, his eyes wide in disbelief. “We’re not runnin’, are we?”
Giles didn’t spare him a look. “First you asked to go. Now you’re disappointed we might do so? Make up your mind.”
The boy chewed on his lower lip, a look of discomfort on his face. “It’s just…you’re Silverhawk ’n all. A famous mercenary don’t run.”
“A smart man knows when to retreat and gather reinforcements. He plans his attack; he doesn’t wait like a lamb for the butcher to arrive.”
The youth didn’t look convinced, but he followed Giles. As they made their way down the steps, Giles realized Davy didn’t know the real reason they must avoid capture. The boy thought Silverhawk had stolen a bride. He didn’t know about the mission. When they reached the hall, Davy streaked out the door into the bailey before Giles could stop him.
Emelin stood beside Lady Clysta, face pale. She stared with wide eyes stark, unfocused. He strode forward, his first thought to take her in his arms, reassure her. She placed a hand on his. “You’ve heard that soldiers come? You must leave. I don’t know what Garley or Lord Osbert will do if they find you here.”
She paused, her expression pleading. “I must return with them, you know. But if you are gone, I can claim you brought me here for safety.”
“What happens once you’re at Langley?”
Color flooded her face. “What else can I do?”
Emelin’s unusual docility disturbed him. Where was the feisty woman who’d remained by his side these past days? Her presence healed him as much as Sister Ressa’s ministrations.
The nun, who was leaving. An idea unfolded. He didn’t like it, but it would serve for now. He grasped Emelin’s shoulders. “Go to Lincoln with Sister Ressa. You’ll be safe there. She hasn’t gone yet, has she?”
Emelin lifted her hands to clasp his. “She’s in the chapel. But what about you?”
Davy dashed in, calling out as he crossed the floor. “You better come. Sir Daviess says ’e wants you.”
Giles squeezed her fingers. “Get ready. You must disappear before they arrive.” He strode to the door and ran down the steps, any lingering discomfort in his side forgotten. Across the bailey, Sir Daviess and his captain stood at the bottom of the stairway to the wall walk. Both looked up at his approach.
“Don’t look like Langley’s troops,” Sir Thomas said. “I don’t see anything I recognize.”
He’d hardly finished when a shout rang out from the guard above. “Three comin’ in at a gallop.”
There was less time than Giles had thought. How would he get Emelin away? To Sir Daviess he said, “Is there a postern gate? Sister Ressa and Lady Emelin must leave undetected.”
The old man nodded. “I’ll see to it. But we can’t afford to lose a man escorting them.”
He was right. The garrison was pitifully small to mount a defense. Even one less fighter would make a difference.
Stooped shoulders straightening, Sir Daviess said, “You assume any force has come to attack. That’s not our experience here. We’ve had no trouble in this part of the country for years.”
He looked Giles in the eyes, his own clear and focused. “If you think these men have come for you,” he said, “tell me now.”
“The only threat is from Langley,” Giles said. “Lady Emelin was betrothed to Lord Osbert, but I discovered she was in danger. That’s why I took her away. Her brother will want her back.”
“Her brother? That would be Garley of Compton?” Sir Daviess nodded. “I remember his father. A meaner example of God’s creation I never saw. Like his father in that, is Garley? Poor little lady. I’ll see she comes to no harm. But if she’s betrothed to Osbert—that may be a problem.”
Another call came from above them. “Milord, looks like some of our men out there. Can’t make ’em all out, but the one in front’s waving at us. There. It’s Lord Paxton’s captain.”
“Open the gates then,” Sir Daviess ordered. “No harm in them. Must have run into some trouble.”
Giles wasn’t so sure. He motioned Davy over. “Tell Lady Emelin to remain out of sight until we know what brought these soldiers back.”
“Are you coming?” he called to Sir Thomas. The captain followed him to the top of the wall where they watched the soldiers approach. Some of the horses were loaded with what looked like packs. As they drew nearer, Giles realized the packs were bodies. He recalled, then, the injured man Sister Ressa spoke of earlier.
Who would attack what amounted to a small army? At least a score of riders filed into the open space inside the walls, bringing along the horses bearing the dead men.
“Carl!” Ran’l broke away from the Granville soldiers who stood to the side and raced to one of the mounts. He jerked back a blanket that covered the animal’s burden. “Carl.” The burly man’s voice shook. “Ye had t’ go lookin’ fer it.”
He untied the rope and lifted his friend’s body in his big arms. Linking the blanket with a finger, he elbowed through the crowd and disappeared out the gate.
“’Is sister’s man,” Davy said at Giles’ side. “’E was tellin’ me about Carl yesterday. Said ’e was always wantin’ the easy way.”
Nearby the commander of the returning troops barked orders to his men. When Sir Thomas tried to intervene, the other soldier narrowed his eyes. “You don’t worry, none. We’ll take care of what needs to be done here. My lord’s orders. He sent us back to secure the castle. Tell your crazy old master to stay out of the way.”
Giles couldn’t let that pass. “The man you refer to is Sir Daviess, and he’s the lord of this holding. You take your orders from him.” Giles hadn’t moved, but a circle opened at the sound of his voice.
“Who are you? Didn’t see you here before. Hidin’ so you wouldn’t have to fight?” Two men standing nearby snickered.
Giles stepped forward, but before he could react, Sir Daviess strode through the cluster of men. “Where were you attacked?” The old lord’s gray head was raised, his shoulders back. No trace of vagueness clung to him. “What about the rest of my men? Are they well?”
“They’re unharmed.” Faced with an authoritative lord of Granville, the soldier granted some courtesy. “My lord asked that you give us shelter until he can join us.”
“Were you attacked near here?” Sir Daviess repeated. “I must know if my people are threatened.”
“No,” the answer came at last. “It happened some distance away, early yesterday. Lord Paxton’s took care of the problem. He’ll be here in a few days, but he sent us ahead to fill out your garrison. I’ll assign my men.”
Sir Daviess peered through narrowed eyes. “I thank your lord for his thoughtfulness, but my captain of the guard will make those assignments. Consider yourselves our guests until he arrives.”
Giles left while they settled the dispersal of men. He needed to inform Emelin that the newcomers weren’t from Langley. Still, the idea of sending her with the nun was good. No one would think to search in Lincoln.
At his side, Davy kept step. For once the lad had nothing to say. Finally Giles’ curiosity took over. “You’re very quiet. Did you learn something?”
Davy shrugged. “It’s Missy,” he said at last. “’Er brother’s bad off. Broke arm, arrow through ’is shoulder. She was cryin’ somethin’ fierce all night.”
Must be the wounded man the sister mentioned. Perhaps he could shed some light on the attack. Odd that he made it back to Granville before the others.
“Where is Missy’s brother?”
“Same place as you was. The tower room.”
“Find Lady Emelin. Tell her to stay out of sight.”
Davy disappeared into the returning troops, and Giles adjusted his course across the bailey. He slipped inside the chamber that served as sick room. The place didn’t look familiar, but then he’d been unconscious for most of his stay in it.
Lying on the low pallet was a youth who looked scarcely older than Davy. His face gleamed pale in the light from the high window and nearby brazier. What had the girl called him? “Will?”
Eyes opened. “Eh? Sir Thomas?”
Giles walked to his side “No. I’m Missy’s friend, Sir Giles. What happened to you?”
A wary expression spread over the boy’s face. “Why d’ya wanta know?”
“Your commander just arrived with the other men.”
Will’s guarded look became fearful. “Don’t tell’im I be here. He’ll finish me, sure.”
“Why would he hurt you? Did you desert?” Giles forced his voice to remain neutral. Deserters weren’t tolerated. That might account for his injuries.
“I’d never! Where’s Sir Thomas? Got news fer’im.”
“Sir Thomas is busy right now. He sent me.”
Will tried to sit but collapsed part way up. Giles grabbed the youth as he fell. The boy was burning up. How could he be so warm, yet look so pallid?
“It’s all right,” Giles reassured him. “Just tell me what happened? Where were you when the attack came?”