Page 14 of Unconquered

"We are beyond the battlefield.

You may open your eyes now.”

Eada cautiously took her hands away from her eyes and looked around, then smiled her gratitude at Drogo, who rode beside the cart.

William had waited five long days for the English nobles to come and accept him as their king, but no one had come.

The army now rode to London, and Eada dreaded to think of what would happen to all the innocents who would be in their path.

"It was foolish," she said, "but I saw the dead once and did not wish to see them again.

No, especially not after they have lain there, forlorn and unburied, for five long days."

"That was not foolish." Drogo reached out to gently caress her cheek.

"I am battle-hardened, but even I found the sight hard to stomach."

Eada looked at the cart directly behind them.

Ivo had found it to carry a still-weak and healing Brun as well as the bounty Drogo and his men had collected.

Serle drove it, seemingly content to take a job that had appalled Unwin.

He nodded at her when he caught her looking his way, and Eada returned the greeting.

"Do you think Brun is all right?" she asked Drogo.

Drogo hastily swallowed the flash of jealousy that assailed him.

He had been fighting that unpleasant emotion since Brun had joined their group.

Each time Eada tended to the wounded Brun, it unsettled him, despite the fact that she spent every night in his arms.

Telling himself that she was simply tending to Brun's injuries, her softness toward the youth stirred only by his pain, did not stop the attacks of jealousy.

Drogo too easily saw Brun's youth, beauty, and the bond of Saxon blood the boy shared with Eada—all things he could never hope to equal.

The only thing he could be grateful for was that Eada had not yet noticed his jealousy.

"He is as comfortable as he can be," Drogo replied.

"You can cease to worry about the boy," he added and then gently spurred his horse forward, riding ahead to rejoin Tancred, Unwin, and Garnier before he said something he would regret.

Eada frowned as she watched Drogo disappear into the crowd of mounted knights they followed.

There had been an odd tone to his voice, and his leave taking had been abrupt.

In the last few days, she had noticed an occasional moodiness in Drogo and she did not believe it was all due to the sly games played by Sir Guy.

"May, have you sensed an odd humor in Sir Drogo?" she asked and waited patiently for May to raise her gaze from the sleeping Alwyn she held in her arms.

"He is but jealous of Brun," May answered, constantly glancing back down at Alwyn.

"Jealous? Drogo? No, that is foolish.

He does not care for me in that way," she added softly.

"A man does not have to love to be jealous.

You are Sir Drogo's woman and yet you tenderly nurse a very handsome young man.

You worry about Brun and speak to him in a language Sir Drogo does not understand so he cannot know all you two say to each other.

Sir Drogo has a strong passion for you.

That is something he may fear to lose."

"May, I am Sir Drogo's captive, as is Brun.

With such power in his hands, how could Drogo fear such a thing? And if he does, why has he not told me to stay away from Brun?"

"Sir Drogo does not treat us as prisoners or serfs.

He is kind and has a most generous spirit.

He might want to command you to stay away from Brun, but he would never do so.

And he would never do anything to Brun either."

"And so he just broods and leaves us all to wonder what ails him?"

"That is the way of some men." Her gaze fixed steadily on Alwyn again, May brushed one of the child's thick blond curls off his forehead.

"And I think you are the only one who believes that Sir Drogo holds you prisoner."

Eada grimaced and slowly nodded.

In fact, she rarely thought of herself in that way.

It was not really Sir Drogo who held her captive but the war.

Drogo did not simply command her to do something; he always gave her the reasons for what he asked.

Even with the lovemaking he did not demand anything, and she knew in her heart that she could say no at any time without fear of reprisal.

That was not the way of a captor or a master.

May's opinion that Drogo was jealous quickly consumed her thoughts, pushing aside all musings on her position as a captive.

She was not sure she could or should believe it, yet it did explain his moodiness.

For one brief moment she considered testing him, increasing her attentions to Brun until Drogo was pushed to openly reveal his jealousy.

She then hastily discarded the plan, appalled that she had even thought of it.

She was not good at such deception, nor did she want to be.

It could also prove little more than the fact that Drogo was jealous and not what she really wanted to know—which was why.

If it were only a sense of possessiveness that spawned his jealousy, she did not really want to know.

When she looked at May, intending to ask a few more questions about men and their strange ways, Eada frowned.

May was intently watching Alwyn again.

The woman did it constantly, only relaxing her guard when the boy was awake.

Eada reached out and touched May on the arm, provoking a brief startled look from the woman.

"He is asleep, May.

He cannot go anywhere," she said quietly.

"I just wish to be sure that his sleep does not become death," May whispered.

"Is that what happened to your baby?" Eada smiled with sympathy when May looked at her in wide-eyed surprise.

"How did you know that I had a child and that he died?"

"The way you so greedily took hold of Alwyn when I brought him into camp told me that you had suffered some loss.

The way you have clung to the child since then only confirmed my suspicions."

"I gave Hacon a son a year past.

Despite the hate I held for the man who sired him, I loved my child.

All was well.

My babe grew, ate, cried, smiled, and all any hale child would do for two short months.

Then, one morning, I woke to find him cold in his little bed.

He had died in the night, died without a sound to warn me of his passing.

I think Hacon always believed that I had killed my baby, but I swear I did not."

"I believe you, May," Eada said, briefly hugging May.

"Hacon was a fool.

You could never hurt a child.

But, May, not every child dies; and watching them as you watch Alwyn will not save them.

If God plans to take this child into His arms, you cannot stop Him—no matter how tightly you cling to the babe."

May smiled crookedly as she idly smoothed the blanket the child was wrapped in.

"My heart and my mind know that, and yet—"

"Yes.

And yet.

But think, May: You sleep little.

I can see the weariness you suffer in your face.

You cannot rest when the babe is awake, and you watch him all the while he sleeps.

That will soon make you ill, and then you will be unable to care for Alwyn at all.

You do not want that, do you?"

"No.

I already feel as if he is my own child.

But I am so afraid."

"May, this child is older than your babe.

He has already lived six, nearly seven months without your constant guard.

I think he is probably safe.

Why not keep yourself hale and strong so that you can tend to his hurts and his ills when they do afflict him and not spend all your strength watching for a danger you cannot see or stop?"

"You are right and I will try.

I did not really understand how completely I had allowed my fear to rule me." She cast Eada a wary look.

"Are you sure you do not mind that I have taken the child?"

"No, not at all.

I had no time to grow fond of the child.

I do not even feel as if I am breaking my promise to his poor mother.

The baby is safe and much loved.

That fulfills my vow even if I am not the one doing it."

"And you do not think that his kinsman, Brun, will try to take him?"

"No.

I am certain he will not.

He will wish to remain known to the child, but he will not take him away from you.

Once, while I was tending his wounds, I saw Brun watching you and the child.

He told me that he was glad that Alwyn had found a new mother." She patted May's shoulder when the woman sagged with relief.

"Now, do you think there is anything I can do to end Drogo's jealousy, not that I fully believe he suffers from it?"

"You cannot ignore Brun, for he still needs his wounds tended and you are skilled at that.

Is that another gift the old woman gave you?"

Eada shrugged.

"I do not know.

It may have always lurked within me.

I was never tested before.

If this is another of Edith's gifts, then I thank her for this one.

And you are right; I cannot ignore Brun."

"No, but you could only tend his wounds and no more until your man sees that there is no danger of your leaving him for another."

"I do not understand why I must change what I do because the fool has a suspicious mind, but—" She held up her hand to halt May's soft protest.

"—I will do it.

I have had a bellyful of dark looks and sharp remarks." She snuggled into the arrangement of grain sacks, pillows, and blankets that cushioned their ride.

"I will cease to worry about the fool now, for I am tired." She flashed a quick grin at May.

"And I would appreciate it if you would not ask why." She echoed May's laugh as she closed her eyes.

"Wake me if Brun needs me or if we stop."

The sharp scent of smoke intruded on Eada's dreams and she coughed.

She struggled to ignore the smell and all it meant and stay blissfully lost in her dreams of sweetly flowering fields and a passionate Drogo.

The sound of May coughing ended her fruitless attempts.

Afraid of what she might see, Eada slowly opened her eyes.

They were stopped in the midst of chaos.

Fear gripped the followers of William's army for they knew something was happening but did not know what it was.

Eada accepted the waterskin Ivo thrust at her and took a long drink before handing it to May.

As she looked around, Eada realized that they could not get away to a quieter place for they were tightly encircled by carts.

Ivo began a heated argument with one of the men surrounding them; but as Eada started to translate the angry words for May, she grew still.

Voices crowded her mind, their pleas for help deafening.

Tears stung her eyes as she realized that she was hearing the screams of terrified children.

Without a thought for her own safety and ignoring May's cry, she leapt from the cart.

She did not know where she was going or what she would find when she got there.

All she was certain of was that children were in grave danger and they needed her.

Eada could hear the battle before she saw it.

The moment she caught sight of the burning cottages and the people desperately trying to flee William's mounted knights and mercenaries, she knew this was no battle.

It was hard and greedy men destroying homes and slaying the innocent in their hunt for riches.

She allowed the cries in her head to banish her fury and concentrated on finding the ones in danger.

Wrapping her cloak tightly around herself she stayed to the shadows, trying to remain out of the sight of the men reveling in their destruction.

It was as she approached the church at the far edge of town that she realized why she had been called.

Several women and a large group of children were trying desperately to reach safety, hoping a sanctified place would protect them.

Between them and the haven they struggled to reach was Sir Guy and half-a-dozen men.

Eada cried out a protest and raced forward when Sir Guy raised his sword and cut down a woman who protected two children with her life.

"You bastard," she screamed at him as she put herself between the terrified women and children and the hard-eyed Sir Guy.

"Are you such a weakling and a coward that you must fight unarmed women and babes?"

"Drogo's whore," he said, as he glared at her, his voice a cold hiss of hatred.

"You have erred now, whore.

No one will fault me for killing you here.

You are easily mistaken for just another Saxon pig."

She neatly avoided the swing of his sword, darted in closer, and grabbed him by the leg.

He could not strike her without cutting himself.

Taking full advantage of his hesitation, she used all her strength to yank on his leg and succeeded in unhorsing him.

He leapt to his feet and faced her, his face bright red with fury.

Eada took her gaze off him only long enough to see that his companions were staying back, not interfering in what they saw as mere amusement.

"I shall enjoy killing you," Sir Guy said as he and Eada circled each other, he looking for the perfect time to strike and Eada doing her best to stay beyond his reach.

"I shall leave you so bloody and torn that your fool of a lover will never recognize you."

"Such bravery.

It takes skill and courage to cut down one tiny woman."

As she hoped, her insults infuriated him and he charged her blindly.

She neatly avoided his attack.

Sir Guy stumbled to a halt near some of the women he had been trying to murder, and they took quick advantage, delivering a few telling blows before they had to flee his sword.

When the men with Sir Guy laughed heartily, it only enraged the man more and Eada could see how badly Drogo's enemy ached to kill her.

She struggled to hide her fear.

There was no way she would win this confrontation.

A few of the women had already begun to edge closer to the church and sanctuary, using the distraction she had caused to try to save themselves.

Eada prayed that they would be safe within the church, for she suspected she would soon be dead and she wanted to believe that her death had at least saved a few people.

"Guy," ventured one of the men watching the unequal battle, "I am not sure it would be wise to harm Sir Drogo's woman.

He is much favored by William, and displeasing him could well anger William."

"Sir Drogo will not hold his place of favor much longer," Sir Guy snapped.

The cold, arrogant way he smiled at Eada made her angry.

He truly thought that he could defeat Drogo with his petty lies.

She clenched her hands into tight fists and wished she had a weapon with which she could cut out his lying tongue before it did any real damage to Drogo.

"You are a fool if you think your lies can hurt a man like Drogo," she said, fighting to keep her fears out of her voice and maintain a tone of deep scorn.

"No one heeds them.

All they see is a man who is too much of a coward to fight Drogo as a man should fight.

You tiptoe about, whispering lies and gossip like an old, bitter woman."

"You beg for a slow, painful death, Saxon whore." He was breathing so hard from the force of his anger that he stuttered.

"Such brave talk and yet you stay out of my reach."

A hoarse cry of pure rage escaped him as he charged her.

Eada felt his sword cut her skirts as she moved out of his way, but she stuck her foot in front of him.

To her surprise, the childish tactic worked and he fell on his face in the mud.

She leapt on him, desperate to disarm him before he could harm her.

As he tried to throw her from him, she ripped off his helmet, got her hands beneath his mail hood, and tightly gripped him by the hair.

Putting all her strength into her attack, she banged his head against the ground.

He let go of his sword as he tried to grab her wrists and loosen her hold.

The moment she felt he was too groggy to stop her, she leapt off him and lunged for his sword.

A brief sense of victory coursed through her veins as she curled her hands around the hilt of his sword.

Then he fell on her.

She could sense that he was still dazed from her attack and used that momentary weakness to wriggle out of his hold.

When she turned to face him, however, his sword in her hands, one of his companions suddenly moved to interfere.

The sword was wrenched from her hands even as Sir Guy staggered toward her.

Eada cried out in pain as he hurled himself toward her, and she hit the ground hard.

His body landing on top of hers only increased her pain.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the women try to help her only to be stopped by one of Sir Guy's men, who put his horse between them and Eada.

When Sir Guy put his gauntleted hands around her throat, Eada knew she had to escape his hold fast or she would surely die.

As his grip tightened and it became increasingly difficult for her to breathe, she wedged her leg between his.

With all her rapidly fading strength, she rammed her knee into his groin.

He screamed, ripping his hands from her throat and clutching himself.

Eada punched him in the throat, and as he gasped helplessly for air, she shoved him off her and staggered to her feet.

Weak and breathless, her throat bruised and aching, she fought to steady herself.

Just as Sir Guy began to pull himself to his feet, she kicked him in the head.

He sprawled on his back in the dirt, but before she could do him any more harm, another of his men moved to his aid.

It was evident from the serious look upon the man's face that he realized this battle was no longer a simple amusement.

He put his horse between her and Sir Guy and impeded her every attempt to get around him.

As Sir Guy began to recover and stand up, Eada cursed as she watched her chance to win being stolen away.

Her only consolation was that most of the children were already inside the church.

Several of the women lingered in the doorway of the little building, obviously hoping they could find some way to help her.

"You are all cowards," Eada said.

"Not only do you cut down children and women at the very door of a chapel, but you aid a man to win what is an already-unequal battle."

"I begin to think that you are anxious to die, woman," said the man on the horse.

"It is not wise to spit such insults at men who could kill you with but one blow."

"Can they? Then why do I still stand while your fine Sir Guy is the one pulling himself out of the mud?"

The man looked down at Sir Guy, and Eada saw his mouth twist with a grimace of disgust.

"I wonder as well.

Come, Sir Guy, do you wish the tale told that you died at the soft hands of a tiny Saxon woman?"

"I will not die by her hand."

Eada felt herself grow still and, despite all her efforts to keep her full attention on Sir Guy, the words in her head demanded that she heed them.

She was unable to cast off the distraction forced upon her until she stared at a fully recovered Sir Guy in horror, the truth her mind had just made her see making her blood run cold.

He was right.

He would not die by her hand.

No matter how hard she tried to scorn the message she had just been given, she could not.

But if he were not to die by her hand, then there was no chance at all that she would survive this confrontation.

She fought the strong urge to flee.

There was nowhere to go.

Sir Guy and his men could run her down and murder her before she could even reach the edge of the village.

She cursed herself for having run into the heart of danger without a thought.

Ivo and Serle had been with the carts and they could easily have helped and protected her, yet she had said nothing to them.

Now she could not even hope for their aid.

"I think we should end this, Guy," said the mounted knight, who remained between her and Sir Guy.

"There is now calm in the village, and many are beginning to look our way."

"What does that matter?"

"This woman is well known to be Sir Drogo's woman.

I do not believe you will be able to claim that you mistook her for one of the villagers anymore.

It will be said that you killed her.

I warn you again—Sir Drogo is well favored by William, and I do believe the man will be much angered if you kill this woman."

"Let him cry to the king.

Few will heed him.

She is just a Saxon whore, and they will tell him to catch himself another and be silent."

"They may allow him to openly challenge you."

"And then I shall have the pleasure of cutting him down."

Eada could tell by the way the mounted knight frowned that she was not the only one who felt Sir Guy was no match for Drogo.

It was past time that Drogo ended Sir Guy's threat, but she had the sinking feeling she would not be alive to see that well-earned death.

Nothing she could think of offered her a chance to escape or survive.

At best, she was just going to delay her death.

As the mounted knight edged away, Eada tensed, preparing herself for the attack she knew was about to come.

She was determined to make Sir Guy fight hard for his victory.

"Ivo," May screamed, finally pulling her man's attention away from the argument he was apparently enjoying.

"Eada has run off." When he immediately scowled and looked around, she breathed a sigh of relief.

He had understood her odd mixture of French and English.

"Where is she?" he demanded.

"She went toward the smoke," May answered, pointing toward the signs of a fire, and then she quickly pointed toward where she had last seen Serle and his cart.

"Get Serle.

He can help."

May stared toward the smoke as Ivo leapt from the cart and pushed his way through the crowds in search of Serle.

Eada had gone white, cried out, and then fled toward the very danger everyone in the baggage train was worried about.

She knew Eada had had some sending, heard some cry for help, but she wished the woman had paused long enough to at least take Ivo with her.

May was sure another village was being laid waste and Eada would look like just another Saxon to the men wreaking the havoc.

May cried out in surprise when Serle suddenly grabbed her by the arm, pulling her attention to him.

"She went to the village just ahead?" Serle asked, speaking slowly and using the simplest words he could in the hope that May could understand.

It took a few minutes of French, English, and signals to tell Serle what had happened.

May heartily wished she could be certain that he really understood her.

He looked concerned, said something to her that was obviously supposed to comfort her, mentioned Drogo to Ivo a few times, and then, leaving Ivo behind with the carts, disappeared into the crowd.

She sighed and rubbed her forehead, managing a weak smile for Ivo when he patted her hand in a gesture of comfort.

May decided that when Eada returned, and she refused to think of any other possibility, she was going to work harder on her French.

"She did what?" Drogo asked in a tight voice after a scowling Serle found him and the others.

Standing with a large crowd of knights encircling William and watching another small village suffer beneath the brutality of mercenaries and bloodthirsty knights, Drogo was not in a good humor.

Not only did he not understand why such destruction was necessary, he was deeply disappointed that William did nothing to stop it.

These people were no threat to them and did not really have anything worth taking.

All Drogo saw was the murder of innocents and wanton destruction, but he struggled to hide his distaste from William.

Now Serle arrived to tell him that Eada had run blindly into the midst of that deadly melee.

He wondered how he had missed seeing her.

"I think she may have had a vision or something," Serle said quietly when he was certain that only Drogo, Tancred, Unwin, and Garnier could hear.

"If I understand May correctly, and she is getting much better at making herself understood, Eada went very white, cried out, and then fled toward the village."

"Eada seems determined to get herself killed."

Drogo started back to where they had left their horses, the others hurrying to keep pace with him.

"I know she is moved by the cries for help she hears, but she must learn to wait until someone can go with her or, by God's sweet grace, I will tie her into the cart." He mounted and looked at Serle.

"You had better return to Ivo and help guard our goods.

The fact that we are Normans will not protect us from thievery.

I will take the others and see if I can find that mad woman before some fool blinded by the scent of blood does."