Page 15 of Unconquered

Her breath coming in short, swift gasps and her whole body aching, Eada faced Sir Guy with all the defiance she could muster.

They had circled each other and lunged and retreated until she was dizzy with exhaustion.

The women cried out words of encouragement, but inspiring though they were, they could not restore her swiftly waning strength.

Sir Guy no longer responded to her insults, and his attack was cold and well planned.

She had been nicked by his sword several times and she began to wonder if she were as good at eluding him as she thought or if he were just toying with her, killing her slowly as he had threatened to do.

Suddenly he lunged at her again, and although she avoided the full thrust of his sword, he cut her side.

She cried out in pain, clutched the freely bleeding wound, and staggered as she turned to face him.

Eada wondered why her voices had not told her that she would die.

"Sir Guy," cried one of his companions, "I think we had best flee this place."

"Not now," he snapped.

"I finally have this whore at my mercy."

Eada was stunned when a shape suddenly hurled itself through the air at Sir Guy's back.

She barely retained enough of her senses to move out of the way as the two men hit the ground hard.

It was only then that she recognized Drogo.

She looked up and saw Unwin holding the reins of Drogo's horse and Tancred and Garnier flanking him, keeping a close guard on the men who had ridden with Sir Guy.

She looked back at Drogo to see him and Sir Guy now standing and facing each other.

Sir Guy's companions had retreated, silently telling Drogo's men that they would not interfere.

Both Drogo and Sir Guy were pale and hard-eyed with fury, and Eada shivered.

She felt that Sir Guy was deserving of death, if only for the woman he had so coldly slain; but she suddenly thought that it might not be a good thing if Drogo killed the man, at least not yet.

Just as she looked to Drogo's men, wondering if she could get them to stop the fight, a man on a huge white horse rode almost calmly between the two combatants.

It was a moment before she recognized the old knight who had stopped the two men from fighting before.

Lord Bergeron had a wonderful skill for showing up at just the right moment, she thought wearily as she slowly sat down in the dirt.

"Again I am called upon to stop two of William's knights from killing each other," the older Lord Bergeron murmured as he leaned forward on the pommel of his saddle and studied Drogo and Guy.

"Did neither of you heed my words?"

It took all his strength to control his fury enough to sheath his sword; but after taking one, long, shuddering breath, Drogo did so.

"I fear anger seared your wisdom from my mind," Drogo drawled, glancing sideways at Lord Bergeron, and was relieved to see the man grin.

Lord Bergeron looked down at Eada, his head cocked to the side in a gesture of curiosity.

"You were in the middle the last time, too, although it looks as if you have fared far worse this time."

"I am still alive, my lord," Eada said, and she looked toward the Saxon woman Sir Guy had killed.

"That is more than some are."

After a brief, scowling look at the dead woman, Lord Bergeron returned his attention to Eada.

"I could begin to think that you are a great source of trouble."

"You could, my lord, but I think you know that it is much more complicated than my disobedience and Sir Guy's ability to see insult in every word." She was startled when he grinned at her.

"These women and children sought the sanctuary of the church; and when Sir Guy arrived, I felt they might need some help in reaching it."

"Of course." Lord Bergeron looked down at Sir Guy.

"I believe we must have ourselves another talk, boy."

Knowing that that was the signal to leave, Drogo grabbed Eada by the arm.

"We will return to the cart," he said firmly, trying to hide his fear and concern when he saw the blood on her gown.

"Please, Drogo, just let me look at the women and children," Eada said as he tugged her toward his horse.

She looked toward the chapel and realized that the women had used Lord Bergeron's arrival to slip inside with the last of the children.

"Some of them were hurt, and I need to see that they are not badly injured and that what wounds they may have are being tended to properly."

He wanted to say no, to demand she get on his horse and let him take her back to safety, but the pleading look in her eyes weakened his resolve.

"You are bleeding," he said.

"I am not dying.

I just wish to assure myself that none of the terrified women and babes in that church are dying or soon will if they are not given aid."

His emotions too strong and confused, Drogo made no reply, just waved her toward the church.

As he watched her hurry into the small chapel, he saw two pale faces appear briefly in the doorway.

He nodded at Lord Bergeron then moved away to allow the man some privacy with Sir Guy and signaled his men to follow him.

Tancred dismounted, stood next to Drogo, and glanced back at Lord Bergeron, who had his arm around Sir Guy's shoulders and was talking intently to the white-faced man.

"Why is Lord Bergeron always so close at hand whenever you have the opportunity to finally kill that adder?"

"He is Sir Guy's uncle," Drogo replied in a tight voice, and then he took a deep breath to calm himself.

"The man loathes Sir Guy but loves his sister, Guy's mother.

For her sake, he does what he can to keep the fool alive."

"His sister's son?" Tancred could not fully hide his horror.

"Then you can never kill Sir Guy."

"Yes, I can, and now I know that I must and I will.

One day that fool's protective uncle will not be near or will finally decide that even his love for his sister is not enough to make him save Sir Guy."

"Why would Guy try so hard to kill Eada? From the look of both of them, there was quite a battle here."

"Who can say why Sir Guy does anything? After all the years he has hated me, I have yet to understand why.

He was clearly here killing the women and children of this village.

Why should killing Eada trouble him? And he may wish to see her dead just to strike a blow at me.

Then, too, I am sure that Eada rushed here to save those innocents and spared Sir Guy none of her scorn and fury."

Tancred grinned.

"No, she would not think to hold her tongue." He frowned at the chapel.

"Do you think she will be long?" He looked around at the death and destruction in the village and grimaced.

"If we linger here for too long, someone might think we had a hand in all of this."

"I will allow her a few more moments and then I will go in and bring her out.

She has wounds of her own that need tending, and I wish to know all that happened here."

"Or why she even came here."

* * *

Eada finished tying the bandage she had wrapped around the old woman's wounded arm and sat back on her heels to look around.

There were only six women in the church, including the old one she had just tended, but there were at least a dozen children.

Three of the children cowered near the altar, and Eada suspected that they were now orphans.

Sadly, there would undoubtedly be a lot more by the time the fighting was over.

"Whose children are those?" she asked a plump, dark-haired woman who helped the old woman sip water from a goatskin.

"They are Edgar the swineherd's children.

He died from a fever in the spring, and their mother is the woman that Norman killed outside the door."

"Is there anyone who can take them in and care for them?"

"Take them in where? All our homes are in ashes.

And when this army leaves, I do not think they will leave much behind save corpses."

There was no denying that hard truth, and Eada asked, "How old are they?"

"The taller boy is Edgar and he is twelve.

His sister Hertha is ten, and the little boy is Gar and he is five.

Why do you need to know?" the woman asked.

Eada heard the suspicion in the woman's voice and tried not to be hurt by it.

"Are you sure no one in the village can care for them? That they have no kinsmen left?"

"Very sure."

"Then I will take them."

"And give them to those murderers?"

"Not all of the Normans are killers of children and helpless women.

Did you not see that I was saved from one Norman by another?"

"I also heard you speak in their tongue," she said, and there was a murmur of angry agreement from the other women.

"As I now speak in your tongue.

My mother could speak both French and English and she taught her children to do the same."

"And you ride with the Normans."

"I was captured in Pevensey, but God smiled upon me and I am held by a man who holds both honor and mercy in his soul."

The woman shrugged.

"That does not mean he will welcome and care for Saxon children, children who were orphaned by his own countrymen."

Eada started to find their suspicions irritating.

"Did I not help you? Did I not save your lives? I have already taken in a babe and a youth.

I do not need more mouths to fill and the man who holds me does not need them either.

And none of you are offering to care for them, so why do you argue with me? At least I can offer them a chance to survive. Can you?"

There was a long, heavy silence as the women looked at each other and then at the three terrified children.

"No.

Take them."

The agreement was made in such a sullen tone of voice that Eada decided she had better leave.

Part of her understood their feelings, but another part was deeply hurt.

As she urged the children out of the church, she realized that many of her people would distrust her now, for she rode with the enemy.

It was not going to be easy to help her people if they all began to see her as the enemy, too.

Once outside the church, she cautiously approached Drogo.

He looked at the children, then at her, but said nothing.

Silently he gave each of his men a child to place in front of him on his horse, then grabbed her and tossed her up in the saddle.

She could feel his anger, see it in the tight line of his jaw, as he swung into the saddle behind her.

She just prayed that most of that anger was for Sir Guy and not her.

When they returned to their carts, they discovered that William had ordered camp to be made.

Ivo was waiting at the edge of the camp to lead them to Drogo's tent, which he had already prepared.

Eada was not sure she wished to spend the night so close to the burned village, but one look at Drogo's frown was enough to make her swallow her objection.

It was not until they were inside his tent that he spoke.

"I cannot become the shelter for every orphan in England," he said, as he helped her disrobe and then gently washed the cuts Sir Guy had inflicted.

"I know," she replied quietly.

"If we can find a village that is not destroyed, there may be someone there who will take them in."

"You rushed blindly into danger again," he said, breathing an inner sigh of relief when he saw that none of her wounds was deep enough to require stitching.

"I know that, too." When he sat back on his heels, she slipped on her chemise.

"I am trying to wait, to not answer the cries the moment I hear them; but, Drogo, this time I heard the cries of children.

I heard their fear and their pain and I just ran to them.

I think I knew that there was no time, that I had to get to them right away or they would die."

He took her into his arms and lightly kissed the top of her head.

"And what good would you have been to them if you had died before you could even reach them?"

"None," she mumbled against his chest.

"When I saw Sir Guy kill that woman at the very door of the church, I fear I allowed my fury to rule me."

"You attacked him?" Drogo asked, staring at her in surprise.

"Yes.

I pulled him from his horse.

We fought, and none of the other men interfered until I got hold of Sir Guy's sword.

I almost defeated him.

If his fellow knight had not put himself and his horse between us and had not earlier taken away the sword, I might have won.

I did keep them all so distracted that the women and children were able to get inside the church." She frowned when Drogo began to laugh.

"I do not see what is so funny."

"No? You, a tiny woman with no weapon, almost defeated one armored knight." He shook his head as the seriousness of the situation overcame his humor.

"Sir Guy will now hate you as much as he hates me."

"I realized that as we fought.

At first I think he wanted to kill me because I am with you, but then he wanted to kill me alone.

But, why would he be cutting down women and children? They were not fighting him.

They were no threat to him at all."

"I fear I cannot explain such brutality as I do not understand it myself.

It seems to come from a pure love of killing.

It is said that some men are maddened by the scent of blood, and yet Sir Guy does not appear mad."

"No.

He does like the killing, and I think he especially enjoys cutting down the helpless and the terrified.

As he killed that poor woman he smiled, as if it were all just some mild amusement, of no more importance than watching a minstrel play.

I believe that is one reason I grew so angry.

He took a person's life away with no more concern than he might show if he swatted a fly."

"It is at times like these that I wish I had had the courage to leave you behind in Pevensey.

I only soothe that guilt by reminding myself that it was little safer there." He sighed and shook his head.

"You are seeing all the black deeds and the evil many women of good birth are protected from."

She reached up and caressed his cheek with her now bandaged hand, the fight with Sir Guy having left it covered in scratches.

"Neither of us had much choice.

And how can we be sure that I would have been saved from seeing the horror and the evil? Old Edith's gift has made it difficult for me to be blind to the troubles all around me." His eyes narrowed and she immediately regretted reminding him of her strange skill, a skill that had caused her to disobey him and put herself in danger yet again.

"You must cease running toward these voices alone." He touched a kiss to her lips to silent her protest.

"I understand what makes you do so and I cannot fault that.

But, Eada, you have this gift for a reason—to help others, to save people.

Would it not be a sin and a waste if you got yourself killed because you cannot find the wit and strength to wait but one moment to get one of us to go with you?"

She thought about that and realized that he was right.

Although it was hard to ignore the pain and the urgency of the cries she heard, she had to find the will to hesitate before responding to them.

When she had thought his objections stemmed just from his concern for her safety, she had shrugged them aside.

She suspected that was still the only real reason he wanted her to learn how to wait, but his reasoning was faultless.

She did have a valuable gift, valuable and possibly life-saving for some of the innocents caught in the war.

It was foolish to waste it.

Dying to save children was honorable, but that honor was dimmed if it meant that she had robbed her people of a gift that had, thus far, helped them.

"You are right.

It would be foolish to waste it when all I need to do is pause for one moment and get a man with a sword to take me where I must go."

Drogo inwardly breathed a hearty sigh of relief.

He had not wanted to tie her to the cart, to restrain her in any manner, but he had begun to think that it was the only way to keep her alive.

He could not silence what she called her voices and he could not stop her from helping someone who was in danger or in pain, but it was far past time for her to begin to practice caution.

It was even more important now that she had Sir Guy as an enemy.

"Now, you must rest," he urged as he pressed her down onto the sheepskin before the fire.

"Your wounds were not severe, but you should take care.

I think you will also discover that a great many parts of you will soon begin to ache."

She grimaced as he gently spread a blanket over her.

"They do already."

"You can expect nothing else when you fight with an armored knight with no more than your bare hands," he drawled.

"Sir Guy will never forget that I have humiliated him, will he?"

"No, never."

"It seems as if I do little more than cause you trouble at every turning."

"Oh, there are a few pleasant moments," he murmured, and grinned at her sleepy smile before kissing her cheek. "Sleep."

"I should see if I can help some of the wounded, and there were some who were suffering some most uncomfortable maladies."

"Men on the march often suffer very uncomfortable maladies.

As for the wounded, you will not be allowed back into the village tonight; and any man who was wounded while he burnt the village and murdered the people there deserves to suffer his wounds."

"The church says we should forgive," she said but smiled at him, agreeing with his sentiments about the men who were hurt while indulging in destruction.

"Forgive them on the morrow.

You have shown a true skill at healing and the word has been carried throughout the army.

There will be many a time when you can show them the depth of your mercy."

He smiled when she stayed awake long enough to laugh, and then he sighed.

A large weight had been lifted from his shoulders when she had finally agreed to be more cautious.

Drogo knew she had not really heeded his warnings and pleas before.

He was going to make sure that one man capable of defending her with a sword was always close at hand, however, for he suspected that while she might now hesitate before running to answer cries for help, she would not hesitate for long.

After one last check that she was warm and completely covered by the blanket, he slipped quietly out of the tent.

The first sight that caught his eye as he stretched in front of his tent was the three children she had brought into his camp.

They sat huddled together as May served them each some stew.

He felt a true sympathy for the orphans, but he also wished they were not in his camp.

"More mouths to keep filled," drawled Serle as he stepped up next to Drogo.

"I was just thinking on that." He shook his head.

"God alone knows how many more there might be before we reach London."

"Mayhap we can find a monastery or nunnery where we can leave them."

"The monastery will not take the girl-child, and the nunnery will not take the boys.

I may wish they were not added to my number, but I cannot separate them."

Serle watched May gently wipe the smallest boy's chin with a corner of her skirt.

"And soon you will not be able to tear them from that woman's arms."

"May does have a soft heart concerning children.

So does Ivo.

When I gain my lands, I think I shall have to make sure that they have a very large house." He smiled when Serle laughed then bent to pat Eada's hounds before they slipped into his tent.

"And how fares Eada?"

"She will be fine.

Her wounds were small."

"But the hatred Sir Guy now holds for her is large."

Drogo grimaced and scratched his head.

"Maybe even greater than the hate he holds for me." He told Serle everything Eada had told him about her fight with Sir Guy.

"She humiliated him before his companions.

She may have even cost him one or two of the very few followers he has."

"And I am sure that his uncle observed most of his humiliation as well, and I know Lord Bergeron well enough to promise you that he will never let Sir Guy forget it.

He may save the fool for the sake of his sister, but he makes no pretense of liking his nephew and the man can have a biting tongue."

"So now I must watch her back as well as my own."

"And you had better get her to be more careful.

If she keeps running headlong into trouble, someone might begin to wonder how she knows where that trouble is.

She can only perform so many sudden rescues before people will begin to ask how she knows who is in danger."

"I know.

And I shudder to think what trouble Sir Guy could stir if he discovered that she hears voices."

"Is that what she does?" Serle asked in honest curiosity.

"That is what she calls it—her voice or voices.

The cries she hears are in her head as is the truth she can sometimes say without warning."

"Ah, I had thought that she had dreams."

"I know of only one—the warning she gave me about Sir Guy." He started toward the fire where the others had gathered.

"I think we had best get something to eat before May pours it all down the throats of those children."

"How are the children?" Eada asked the moment Drogo entered the tent.

She felt that she had been lying awake and alone for hours even though May had come to see her briefly and Godwin had slipped away from Sir Guy long enough to assure himself that she was all right.

Once she had gotten up to relieve herself, and it had proven to be a painful chore, every inch of her body protesting the movement.

Although she had cursed her weakness, she had quickly eased her aching body back down onto the soft sheepskin.

"The children are fine," Drogo replied as he sat down beside her and offered her a goatskin filled with wine, frowning when she groaned as she propped herself up to have a drink.

"You are in pain?"

"Yes.

Being thrown to the ground and having a fullgrown, armored knight fall on you clearly causes one's body to suffer." She rubbed her throat; swallowing the wine painfully reminded her that Sir Guy had also tried to strangle her.

"I had better feel less of this pain on the morrow or I think I shall be very unhappy."

"And will make others most unhappy as well, I suspect."

"You can cease to suspect it.

It will be a fact hard to ignore.

I have never endured pain or illness with any grace."

He shed his jupon, boots, and hose and, still wearing his shirt, eased his body beneath the blanket.

Very gently, he turned on his side and slid his arm around her waist, edging closer until their bodies touched.

Her ill humor both amused him and relieved him.

It showed that her injuries were not serious.

"It will be a few days before the aches and pains fade, but they will fade."

She sighed and slowly snuggled closer, the warmth of his body helping to ease some of her aches.

"You said the children are fine?"

"Yes.

May has taken them to her heart, and they seem to have taken to her as well."

"And Brun?" she asked and felt a slight tension come and go in his body.

"He is also fine.

As I have said, you have a true skill for healing and he now begins to find his weakness and confinement a great irritation.

I believe he will soon be on his feet again."

A yawn forced itself upon her and she was surprised, for she had already slept for hours.

"I think I am about to go to sleep again."

"Good.

You need the rest to heal."

"There is one thing I must tell you before I do go to sleep and, mayhap, forget what I wanted to say come the morning."

"What?" he prodded when she closed her eyes and did not continue.

"Godwin came to see me for only a brief time, but he told me something about Sir Guy that he felt you should know.

He said the man could do little more than rant and curse me when he returned to his camp.

Godwin does not understand French, not even as well as May, for I have little chance to teach him, but he said the tone of the man's words was alarming."

Drogo sighed, rested his cheek against her hair, and only briefly thought on giving her some empty but soothing words.

"I fear the man now hates you as much as he does me.

He only thinks I have humiliated him and he wants me dead.

You have actually done so."

"I know, and I think I may have cost him an ally.

One of his companions was thoroughly disgusted by Sir Guy, by the way he behaved, refused to listen to reason, and especially by the fact that he could not defeat me without help."

"You once told me that you saw him as a dark and threatening shadow at my back.

Well, I think that threat is now at your back, too."

Eada nodded, afraid and yet resigned.

"Do not fear, Drogo.

I will keep a close watch, and I have one thing to help me that you have never had."

"And what is that?"

"Godwin.

A sharp-eyed spy within the very heart of our enemy's camp.

All I have to do is teach the boy French."