The Blight of Muirwood
Page 133
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“You should be resting,” Sowe said timidly and he nodded his surrender and hobbled back to a floor pallet where she helped him lie down.
Lia watched them for a moment and then gratefully took the tureen of soup from Pasqua, who clenched back her tears and stared at her injured girl with all the protective looks of a mother.
* * *
Dawn came too quickly, its arrival a torture Lia had been dreading. Colvin had waited vigil all night long and they spoke softly to each other, talking of their lives, sharing little stories that they had not told each other before. Sowe and Bryn were asleep in the loft above. Edmon lay still on a pallet near the bread oven. Pasqua entered quietly before the first cock crowed and stoked the fire in the hearth, pinched some salt into a cauldron after tasting the broth, and brought another bowl to Lia. She set some loaves near the oven to warm and gathered some fruits and nuts for the journey.
Colvin sat at the edge of Lia’s bed still, studying her face, his expression unreadable. “When we returned to Muirwood, I had been looking for a gift or reward for Sowe for her help when I was injured. I think I know what to give her now.”
Lia smiled, pleased that he remembered. “What then?”
“You saw the way they look at each other. Edmon is bedazzled by the girl. I cannot blame him. He told me yesterday he plans to stay at Muirwood and pass the maston test when he has recovered from his injury. When I am gone, I would like you to tell her that I plan to adopt her as my sister. The same offer I came here to make to you. She will have a marriage portion to bring. With all her years serving at the Aldermaston’s table, I think she would come to understand her new station. Would you present my offer to Sowe?”
Lia’s throat constricted with joy and she nodded, blinking back tears. “That is generous, Colvin.”
“She is your friend. I do this regardless of Edmon. If he changes his mind, which I do not expect that he will, she will still have rank and position. She is a good girl and I admire her. So does Ciana.”
A knock came to the kitchen door and Pen-Ilyn entered, but held it wide to admit Ellowyn and an older man. The last time Lia had seen him, it had been on the battlefield of Winterrowd, blood-spattered and leaning wearily against a wagon as he spoke to the survivors. She could hardly tell his face through the grime that day. But she knew him at once. Garen Demont. Something burned inside her heart seeing him, something fierce and tugging. It made her eyes brim with tears. Demont was probably fifty, but he looked younger, with a boyish face – cleanshaven, like Colvin’s – and a mess of untidy dark hair streaked with gray. He wore a chain hauberk and splotched tunic with all the comfortable grace of an experienced soldier and had his maston-sword buckled at his hip, his gloved hand resting on the pommel. Colvin’s hand was on the edge of her bed. Her fingers itched to snake out and snare his, to keep him from going. She knew the moment was coming but it still hurt.
“Are you ready, my lord of Forshee?” Demont asked Colvin sympathetically. “Though I myself loathe parting with you. If you leave now you will reach Bridgestow before dark. There are many ships that anchor there bound for Dahomey. You can make it to the island Abbey by the time we arrive in Comoros with the prisoners, I should think. Dochte Abbey is on the northern coast if you recall. It will only take you and Ellowyn a few days under sail if the weather is fine, I am certain of it.”
Colvin gave her a mournful look, his eyes dark and sad. He stood slowly, as if some heavy burden were fastened to his shoulders. He gave her one final look and then started towards the doorway. “I am ready.”
There was creaking in the loft above and Sowe and Bryn hurried down the ladder. Edmon was awake as well and rose, wincing with pain, clutching his wounded side. Pasqua stuffed the food in a new rucksack and handed it to Colvin at the door.
“Be you safe,” she said gruffly. “Come back to us when your duty is finished.”
Lia ached. She felt the tears sting her eyes as she saw her friends smothering him with attention. It was painful beyond enduring. Who would protect him if not her? Who would guide him when the way was lost? It was agony thinking about being in Muirwood without him. No more walks in the Cider Orchard. Not to see him at the laundry while she scrubbed clothes. His fierce gaze turned back to look at her, his jaw clenched with visible pain.
Edmon saw the look between them. He whispered something in Sowe’s ear and she nodded, wiping tears from her eyes and taking Pasqua by the arm and she and Bryn pulled her outside the kitchen into the fresh morning air just as the sky began to shine. Edmon said something to Demont and Ellowyn and escorted them outside as well, leaving Colvin alone on the threshold. Edmon glanced back and shut the door after himself.
Lia watched them for a moment and then gratefully took the tureen of soup from Pasqua, who clenched back her tears and stared at her injured girl with all the protective looks of a mother.
* * *
Dawn came too quickly, its arrival a torture Lia had been dreading. Colvin had waited vigil all night long and they spoke softly to each other, talking of their lives, sharing little stories that they had not told each other before. Sowe and Bryn were asleep in the loft above. Edmon lay still on a pallet near the bread oven. Pasqua entered quietly before the first cock crowed and stoked the fire in the hearth, pinched some salt into a cauldron after tasting the broth, and brought another bowl to Lia. She set some loaves near the oven to warm and gathered some fruits and nuts for the journey.
Colvin sat at the edge of Lia’s bed still, studying her face, his expression unreadable. “When we returned to Muirwood, I had been looking for a gift or reward for Sowe for her help when I was injured. I think I know what to give her now.”
Lia smiled, pleased that he remembered. “What then?”
“You saw the way they look at each other. Edmon is bedazzled by the girl. I cannot blame him. He told me yesterday he plans to stay at Muirwood and pass the maston test when he has recovered from his injury. When I am gone, I would like you to tell her that I plan to adopt her as my sister. The same offer I came here to make to you. She will have a marriage portion to bring. With all her years serving at the Aldermaston’s table, I think she would come to understand her new station. Would you present my offer to Sowe?”
Lia’s throat constricted with joy and she nodded, blinking back tears. “That is generous, Colvin.”
“She is your friend. I do this regardless of Edmon. If he changes his mind, which I do not expect that he will, she will still have rank and position. She is a good girl and I admire her. So does Ciana.”
A knock came to the kitchen door and Pen-Ilyn entered, but held it wide to admit Ellowyn and an older man. The last time Lia had seen him, it had been on the battlefield of Winterrowd, blood-spattered and leaning wearily against a wagon as he spoke to the survivors. She could hardly tell his face through the grime that day. But she knew him at once. Garen Demont. Something burned inside her heart seeing him, something fierce and tugging. It made her eyes brim with tears. Demont was probably fifty, but he looked younger, with a boyish face – cleanshaven, like Colvin’s – and a mess of untidy dark hair streaked with gray. He wore a chain hauberk and splotched tunic with all the comfortable grace of an experienced soldier and had his maston-sword buckled at his hip, his gloved hand resting on the pommel. Colvin’s hand was on the edge of her bed. Her fingers itched to snake out and snare his, to keep him from going. She knew the moment was coming but it still hurt.
“Are you ready, my lord of Forshee?” Demont asked Colvin sympathetically. “Though I myself loathe parting with you. If you leave now you will reach Bridgestow before dark. There are many ships that anchor there bound for Dahomey. You can make it to the island Abbey by the time we arrive in Comoros with the prisoners, I should think. Dochte Abbey is on the northern coast if you recall. It will only take you and Ellowyn a few days under sail if the weather is fine, I am certain of it.”
Colvin gave her a mournful look, his eyes dark and sad. He stood slowly, as if some heavy burden were fastened to his shoulders. He gave her one final look and then started towards the doorway. “I am ready.”
There was creaking in the loft above and Sowe and Bryn hurried down the ladder. Edmon was awake as well and rose, wincing with pain, clutching his wounded side. Pasqua stuffed the food in a new rucksack and handed it to Colvin at the door.
“Be you safe,” she said gruffly. “Come back to us when your duty is finished.”
Lia ached. She felt the tears sting her eyes as she saw her friends smothering him with attention. It was painful beyond enduring. Who would protect him if not her? Who would guide him when the way was lost? It was agony thinking about being in Muirwood without him. No more walks in the Cider Orchard. Not to see him at the laundry while she scrubbed clothes. His fierce gaze turned back to look at her, his jaw clenched with visible pain.
Edmon saw the look between them. He whispered something in Sowe’s ear and she nodded, wiping tears from her eyes and taking Pasqua by the arm and she and Bryn pulled her outside the kitchen into the fresh morning air just as the sky began to shine. Edmon said something to Demont and Ellowyn and escorted them outside as well, leaving Colvin alone on the threshold. Edmon glanced back and shut the door after himself.
