While Angels Slept (7 page)

“There is
nothing to forgive.”

She smiled
weakly. “I doubt that is the case, but you are kind to say so.” She wiped at
her face, erasing the last of the tears. “I am not usually the dramatic type,
but it seems that all you have witnessed since coming to Rochester are
dramatics and hysterics.”

It was an effort
for him to keep his hands to himself; she was so deeply pathetic and his
natural compassion begged to wipe away a tear, or squeeze her hand to ensure
some measure of comfort.  But he would not. He’d done more than he should have
already.

“As I told you
yesterday, there is no need for apologies,” he said quietly. “You and your
family have suffered a great loss. Your grief is natural.”

Her lavender
eyes grew steady. As he watched, she seemed to draw on the last reserves of
strength she must have held. But it was a fragile composure.  “Grief, indeed.
But madness… surely there is no excuse.”

She suddenly
stood up, prompting him to also rise. The contrasts in their sizes pronounced;
Tevin was easily twice as wide as the diminutive lady and a head and a half
taller.  It seemed that she had something more to say to him but could not seem
to bring forth the words. After a moment, she simply moved for the door and he
followed.  But she abruptly paused before opening it and he nearly ran into the
back of her.

“May I ask a
question, my lord?” she asked.

He was hesitant;
the last time she asked a question, he divulged details that had almost driven
her to insanity.  But he nodded. “Aye.”

“Have you ever
lost someone close to you?”

“Many people, my
lady.”

“May I ask who?”

“My father, my uncle,
my older brother.”

“In battle?”

“I lost my
father and brother in the same battle.”

She digested
those facts. “When you said that these dark days will pass… will they indeed?”

He nodded,
slowly, his dark eyes studying every curve, every delightful contour of her
face. “They will appear less so in time.”

“It does not
seem like it.”

“I know. But you
must trust me.”

She took a deep
breath, for strength and for courage, and lifted those magnificent eyes to him.
“Your comforting presence has meant more than you can know to me and my family
and to that end, I am eternally grateful.  To thank you seems wholly insufficient.”

He smiled
weakly, feeling humbled. “Your thanks is more than adequate, I assure you.”
Then his smile faded. “But you must promise me one thing.”

“Anything, my
lord.”

He began to look
around as if he’d lost something.  Cantia watched as he took a few steps
towards the massive wardrobe and reached down to collect the dagger he had
thrown.  His dark eyes were fixed on her.

“You will never
try anything like this again.”

She nodded,
embarrassed and ashamed.  Opening the chamber door, they made their way down to
the hall in complete silence. 

Tevin didn’t
take any chances. He kept the dirk.

***

Though there
were others who were more severely wounded, Cantia’s first patient was Val
simply because she happened to be the closest to the door.  It took Cantia a
matter of seconds to figure out that Val was, in fact, a woman, and her
features registered the surprise.

But she said
nothing as she examined the patient, determining that she had a few broken ribs
and a broken collar bone.  Tevin held his sister steady as Cantia and a serving
woman bandaged up the ribs and then secured the left arm into a permanent,
wrapped position so that the collar bone would heal.  It was a relatively
simple procedure that had taken less than an hour.  But the relief Val, and
Tevin felt, was immeasurable.

Cantia had Val
moved into the small solar, away from the bulk of the wounded, for the sheer
fact that she was female. It was not proper for her to convalesce in a room
full of men, even if the woman was dressed like a knight.  Oddly enough, Cantia
asked no questions of Tevin as to the identity of the female knight; she simply
accepted it on face value and moved on to her next patient. 

Though Tevin’s
attention was focused on settling his sister, he could not help but be
distracted by Lady Penden as she moved among the wounded.  He was impressed by
the fact that she was able to put the needs of others over her atrocious
grief.  It must have been exceptionally wrenching for her to tend men with
arrow wounds, knowing her husband had died days earlier in the same manner. But
she said nothing, focused on helping those who needed her.   From what he’d
seen over the past few days from her, he’d expected nothing less.

Tevin eventually
accompanied Val into the solar and saw to her comfort there on a bed that the
servants had place near the fire. He was glad that the result of her having
been slammed off her charger was just a few cracked bones; in the heat of the
battle, it could have been much worse.  Val had been given a brew of willow
bark that eventually caused her to drift off to sleep somewhere near dusk, at
which time Tevin left her alone.  He had many others wounded and would use the
time to see to them.

The great hall
was darkening as evening fell.  A fire burned brightly in the hearth, sending
ribbons of smoke into the air.   As Tevin entered the hall, the first thing he
saw was Hunt and his big yellow dog sitting near the fire.  The boy had a big
piece of bread in his hand and the dog licked at the crumbs on the floor.  

“My lord,” Simon
Horley somehow had snuck up behind him and he’d never heard him. “How fares
Val?”

“She is
sleeping,” Tevin replied. “Do you have a casualty report?”

“Nine dead,
twenty-seven wounded,” Simon replied. “Considering the fierceness of the
battle, I had expected worse.”

Tevin nodded.  “Is
everyone attended to?”

“Aye,” Simon
replied. “Your knights are in the knight’s quarters, awaiting your debriefing.”

Tevin usually
gave a small talk after every battle. It was usually to discuss the battle as a
whole, how well it was managed, and if there could be any improvements made
with skill or manpower or weapons. But tonight, he didn’t feel much like
talking about it. Perhaps it was because he had been preoccupied with Val, or
perhaps it was because he was too spent. The past few days had been
inordinately draining, both physically and emotionally.

“Tell them men
to get some rest and we shall speak on the morrow,” he said. “I shall sleep
with Val in case she needs anything.”

Simon nodded.
“Very good, my lord.”

With a wave of
his hand, Tevin dismissed him.  At some point, he realized that Hunt was
walking over to him, winding his way amongst the wounded on the floor. The
yellow dog followed behind.  When Hunt reached him, he stood there looking up
at him, chewing on his bread.

“Are you
hungry?” the child asked.

Tevin shook his
head. “Nay, boy. I am here to look after my wounded.”

Hunt took
another big bite of bread. “Mam already did that.”

“Where is your
mother?”

“In the yard.”

Tevin nodded his
thanks for the information and proceeded to the exit of the keep. The kitchens
and yard were on the opposite side of the bailey.  It took him a moment to
realize that Hunt and the dog were trailing after him.

“I thaw the dead
men,” Hunt said as they crossed the dusty ward. “Are you going to give them
grand funerals?”

Tevin looked
down at him, a disapproving expression across his brow. “Why did your mother
allow you to see dead men?”

Hunt had
finished his bread, but there were crumbs all over his face. He gazed up at
Tevin with blue-eyed innocence. “They were in the ward. I thaw them. One of
them had arrowth sticking out of him.”

Just like
Brac
. Tevin didn’t know what to say so it was best that he say nothing. As
they neared the kitchen enclosure, he spied a few women in the yard, bent over
a large iron cauldron. It was steaming furiously and they were removing pieces
of cloth from the boiling brew with big sticks. Even in the darkness of the
bailey, he could see great clothes lines of boiled rags strewn all over the
yard.

As he stood at
the threshold to the enclosure, Cantia suddenly emerged from the warm, moist
kitchen with a tray in her hands.  She spoke to the servants stirring the pot,
asking them to add more lye to the mixture. The bandages were for the wounded
and she wanted to make sure that they were clean.  Then she spied Tevin and
Hunt at the yard gate.

“My lord,” she headed
straight for him. “I was just coming to find you. I thought perhaps you might
like something to eat.”

As Tevin gazed
at her, he quickly realized one thing; he was glad to see her.  “And I was
coming to find you to discover the state of my wounded,” he said steadily.

“Perhaps we
should go into the keep and discuss it while you eat.”

He merely
nodded, allowing her to lead the way.  Hunt raced to his mother’s side, holding
her hand as they retraced their steps across the bailey.  Tevin followed along
behind, his eyes alternately scanning the ward and scanning Cantia.  He tried
not to watch her, the soft sway of her slender backside, instead focusing on
their surroundings. It had long been a habit, as it was the habit of most
knights, to be constantly aware of his surroundings. Threats often lingered in
the shadows.  But no threat this night could capture his attention more than
Cantia’s graceful figure.

Somewhere during
the day, she had donned a heavy linen apron and tied a kerchief around her head
to keep her gorgeous hair out of her eyes.  The garments were simple, course
even, but she still wore them like a goddess. The woman could wear nothing that
made her look bad.  But more than that, her spirit seemed much improved. She
had greeted him with a clear, even expression and had even smiled, however
faint. He was pleased to see that she appeared in a better state of mind.

Entering the
cool, dark keep, she took the food into a small alcove directly off the entry.
It was barely large enough for three people, but there was a small table and an
even smaller hearth that smoked and sparked as she set the food down.  Tevin
stood just outside of the doorway until he realized that she wanted him to come
in and sit down. He did so, silently, as she removed the cloth covering the
contents of the tray. A large piece of bread, butter, a pitcher of wine and a
knuckle of beef await him. 

“I thought you
said you weren’t hungry,” Hunt was standing beside him, puzzled, as he eyed the
food.

He looked at the
boy. “Your mother had gone to much effort to feed me. The least I can do is
eat.”

Hunt looked up
at his mother. “I’m hungry, too.”

She put her hand
on his head. “You ate enough for three people earlier this eve.”

“But I’m still
hungry!”

Before Cantia
could reply, Tevin tore his bread in two and handed the boy a chunk. “Here.”

“Butter, too?”

Tevin indicated
the butter and knife, to which Hunt helped himself generously.  The lad pulled
up a chair and sat next to Tevin, eventually picking at the beef knuckle.
Cantia pulled his hand back the first time he tried.

“Nay, Hunt,” she
admonished. “This is his lord’s meal. Consider yourself honored that he has
shared his bread with you. Do not ask for more.”

Tevin tore a big
piece of beef off the bone and handed it to the boy. His dark eyes looked up at
her. “The worst I can tell him is no. There is no harm in asking for more. 
Most ambitious men do that, and then some.”

She smiled,
properly contrite. She put her hands on Hunt’s little shoulders. “Thank you for
being so kind to him.”

Mouth full,
Tevin watched Hunt stuff his mouth with the beef. “He is easy to be kind to.
You have raised your son well.”

“Thank you,” she
said softly. “His father deserves a good deal of the credit.”

Tevin’s gaze
returned to her, watching a melancholy cloud suddenly drift across her face. He
moved to another subject quickly.  He said the first thing than came to mind.

“Cantia,” he
said, pouring himself more wine. “That is an unusual name.”

She struggled
not to linger on thoughts of Brac, focusing on Tevin’s statement instead. “It
is the ancient name for Kent.”

“Your family has
been in Kent for many generations?”

There was a
small three-legged stool in the corner and she pulled it near the table,
sitting. “For hundreds of years. In fact, my family had a very specific role in
the ancient Kingdom of Kent, something that still carries through to this day.”

“What is that?”

She looked at
him, her lavender eyes reflecting the weak firelight. “The firstborn female in
my family always married the heir to the throne of Kent.  Though the nobility
title was passed down through the males, the first born female had the most
important role.  When
William le Bâtard
conquered these shores in the
days of my grandfather, our role became no less important.  But because there
is no future king of Kent, I have married into the Stewards of Rochester,
traditionally the family that serves the king as the protector of the throne.”

Tevin realized
he was watching her mouth as she spoke. It was delightful and captivating.  He
further realized that she had the same lisp that her son had, though it was barely
detectable. He’d never noticed before, but it was something that made her all
the more charming.  He shoved another piece of meat into his mouth, praying his
growing interest in her wasn’t obvious.

“Most
interesting,” he said. “In that respect, your family and mine share something
in common. We are both of noble lineage predating William’s conquest.”

“May I beg you
to tell me of your family’s line, my lord?”