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I f Bronwyn caught a few hours’ sleep before dawn, she was surprised.

She was enlisted into helping care for the wounded and dying.

She worked with mainly women, tending to their needs.

But it was her first battlefield, and even though the fight had not lasted longer than a few minutes, maybe less than half an hour, men and women had died, mostly those who’d been defenseless and unarmed.

She held an old man’s hand as he took his last breath, and called for his daughter.

She wiped blood from a child’s forehead and the hours flew by as one after another, people died.

Not all, however. Some only needed their wounds re-stitched and rebound tightly, but there was almost no linen to be had.

She’d already used her kerchief and torn her work apron to rags to bind wounds for lack of fresh linen, and she was on the verge of tearing the hem of her brown, woolen dress, when a hush came over the infirmary tent. She turned to look at the cause of such silence.

The empress strode in, her face set and commanding.

She wore a thick, fur-trimmed mantle around her shoulders, above a rich, burgundy-colored cloak.

Her dark-blonde hair was plaited in a long, thick braid intertwined with a plain circlet that marked her as a ruler.

Her shoulders were back and her pale face was set in a stern expression.

Two guards preceded her, spears at the ready.

Empress Maud marched around the tent of the sick and wounded and happened to look Bronwyn’s way. Their eyes met, and the empress approached.

The middle-aged man to whom Bronwyn was attending gasped. “Do you see? That’s the empress.” He hissed, touching her hand. “She’s coming this way.” His hands trembled in excitement.

Standing before them, the empress looked down at Bronwyn’s patient. He had suffered a blow to the chest, and a sword cut to his abdomen. He had been bandaged, but the blood had soaked through the wrappings, and Bronwyn had been about to change it when the empress’s arrival had paused everything.

Seeing the empress, the patient attempted to sit up, when Empress Maud held up a gloved hand. “Stay, my good man. What happened to you?”

As he told her, the empress’s gaze grew darker and more serious. She turned and her voice, loud and clear, called out, “This is what comes of loyalty to Stephen. Senseless attacks in the night, and only dead men, women, and children to answer for it.”

She paused to let that sink in.

“He cares nothing for you good people. Not your families, your siblings, your children. He hasn’t a care for your loved ones.

He only wishes to hurt and does not care who gets in his way.

He will push and fight and attack you all, until everyone who does not swear allegiance to him is dead.

” Her voice carried amidst the warm breaths that plumed like steam in the cold, wintry air.

Empress Maud leaned forward and touched the wounded man’s shoulder. “Rest, my good man, and with God’s blessing, I hope you will rise and fight again. We need good men like you.” The look she gave the man was almost maternal. Then she gave him a saucy wink.

He beamed and squeezed Bronwyn’s hand.

The empress stood by as the guards cried and others took up the call. “Three cheers for the empress. Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!”

The empress smiled faintly and glanced at Bronwyn. “When you are able, do return to the cooking tents. I hear from one of my ladies-in-waiting that you make the most delightful white bread rolls.”

Bronwyn bowed her head as the empress left.

The wounded man whistled once she had gone and turned to Bronwyn. “Did you see that? She touched me. The empress touched me.”

Bronwyn smiled at him. “Now you’ll have to get better.”

He nodded and looked off in the distance, in the direction the empress had taken. “I’ll never wash that shoulder again.”

Bronwyn laughed. She sincerely hoped he was joking.

Later that day, Bronwyn stood at the outskirts of the camp, collecting rosemary from some bushes and running her hands over the plants, pulling the delicious blades of green herb from the stalks.

She wanted a moment to her own thoughts.

Lady Eleanor, dead. Her loss seemed hard for the empress to bear, but perhaps more so the idea that someone close to her would betray her trust. And Sir Bors, saying she had been trying to steal the crown.

It seemed wrong. What would Sir Edward say?

She wanted to speak with him. And what about the scent of roses that had hung in the air when she’d arrived at the tent? Had that signified anything?

She looked down at the rosemary blades in her hand and dropped them into her basket. The plant had released a wonderful spicy scent into the air. Bronwyn heard heavy footfalls behind her.

“If you’re hungry, go to the cooks,” she said without looking.

“It’s you I was looking for,” a male voice said.

She turned around to find Theobold smiling at her. “Oh. What do you want?”

He grinned. “So rude. Never a good morrow for me?”

She didn’t trust him. She couldn’t say why. “Good afternoon,” she said pointedly before turning back to collecting rosemary.

“What are you doing?” he asked, coming closer.

“Collecting herbs.” She put more spicy blades into her small basket. Then she stopped. Maybe Theobold had heard more of the dead man’s words than she’d thought. “Last night, after that man died, after the battle. He asked about the crown, implied that it had been taken. Why would he ask that?”

“Why would a pretty young woman like you trouble herself with a dead man’s ramblings?” He gave her a winning smile.

Bronwyn rolled her eyes, huffed, and stood, brushing down her skirts. “Good day.” She hoisted her basket and walked.

“Oi, wait. Mistress Bronwyn, wait. I meant no offense.” Theobold trotted after her. “I was trying to give you a compliment.”

“By calling me ‘pretty’ and ‘stupid.’” She glared at him.

“No. Not at all. I only meant…” He ran a hand through his curled, black hair. “I didn’t mean to suggest you were dumb. I only meant that you’re pretty and have other things to worry about than…” He cursed. “Oh, never mind. Fine. You’re really hard to talk to, you know that?”

“I’ll just say it’s one of my prettier qualities. Unless you disagree?” She cocked her head, batted her eyelashes, and gave him a sickly-sweet smile before she kept walking.

“Dash it, wait. Wait, blast you,” he said, catching up with her easily. “Most young women I know aren’t like you.”

She kept walking. “So now I am odd. What an attractive quality.”

“Bronwyn.”

She faced him. He squared up to her. They stared into each other’s eyes. His were brown. His gaze seemed to explore her face and drifted down to her curves. It made her blush.

“I am to look into this business,” he said, “the matter of the stolen item. Will you help me?”

She blinked. “Gladly. Tell me about the battle.”

He let out a small laugh and stepped back. “How much do you know about the attack?”

“Not a lot. I was with the empress when it started. I’m guessing it was an attempt by King Stephen’s men to free him from capture.”

“That’s the most obvious presumption. But we found something different.” He had her full attention now. “You know that once the men and sick have a chance to rest, we go to Gloucester, yes?”

“Everyone knows,” she said.

He raised an eyebrow, evidently unhappy with her tone. “What you may not know is the empress plans to be crowned in London, at Westminster.”

“So Gloucester, then London.”

“But she needs her crown if she is to be crowned the rightful empress and Queen of England.”

“So the attack…” she started.

“Was a diversion as someone attempted to steal the crown. It was not an attempt to free Stephen.”

She let out a noisy breath. So it was true. Stealing the crown had been the object of the attack. Her heart began to pound at the knowledge of this. No longer a thought or a rumor, it was confirmed. It was fact.

He added, “The empress wears a circlet to show whoever might be watching that the loss of her crown does not bother her, but no one is to know the truth. I risk a lot just telling you this.” He rubbed the side of his face.

“If word got out that some rebels managed to steal her crown, it would look bad. It’d make the followers and the people in her entourage think she was less of a leader, to let her crown go missing. ”

So that was why the empress had bid her to silence, Bronwyn realized. Of course she was afraid of the secret getting out.

“And the man you killed?” Bronwyn asked.

“He hinted at what we later confirmed. When the battle happened, we immediately thought it was an attempt to rescue the false king, or to kill the empress. No one thought to check on her belongings, much less her crown. We found you, and the rest you know.”

“So you killed the man because he would be of no use to you,” she said, a bitter note in her voice.

“I killed him out of mercy. I did not wish to be tasked with making him talk. Better to die in battle than spend hours on the rack.” Theobald’s voice grew dull, and his eyes took on a faraway look. He shivered.

Perhaps torture is as grueling for the torturer as it is for the victims , she thought.

“Why would the empress ask you to investigate?” she asked.

He swallowed. “My family’s history. It’s in the blood.”

She looked at him.

He turned his head and glanced at the ground, then over his shoulder, as if to check that they were alone.

“My father was a hangman. An executioner, and a good one. Like his father before him. It runs in the family. I’m different.

I cast my lot to be a squire in the empress’s army.

But my family’s profession and reputation followed me.

Some might think I have a taste for murder and killing, but I detest it.

I have no stomach for it.” He pushed a dark curl out of his eyes.

“So you see, I am not so black-hearted as you think.”

“I never said you were,” she said.