Warrior's Song (Medieval Song 1)

“The same applies to you, Jerval, save that you have a dirty, scratchy growth of beard on your face to hide the dirt.”

She was right.

“It will take me an hour to bathe and soothe ointment into all the cuts and scratches on your body.”

“I will do it myself.”

“Aye, if I did it, then I would see your body in the full light of day. I would touch you, and you are afraid that you would like the feel of my hand on you and would want more.”

“All right, then you will do it. I care not. You think I would want you to touch me more? That is a man’s conceit. By all the saints, I hurt too badly.”

Again, he nearly laughed. “If I wish it, then I will. Now, do you have any questions about what you will do?”

She said nothing, just dug her heels into the stallion’s sides and rode away from him. He wondered what she would do.

A half hour later, he saw her beside the rutted road. He would have grinned had he been able, for he realized that she did not have the courage to enter the keep without him.

He merely nodded to her, and she guided the roan beside him, not looking at him. There were shouts from the men lining the outer walls, and as he expected, his parents were awaiting them in the inner bailey. He could hear his father’s sigh of relief upon seeing Chandra. There were two spots of angry color on his mother’s cheeks.

Chandra slithered slowly off the roan’s back. She heard her mother-in-law call her name, but kept her head down and walked quickly to where her husband stood.

“Jerval,” said Lady Avicia, “thank the Virgin yo

u have brought her back safely.”

“By all the saints, we did not know what she would do,” Lord Hugh said, limping toward them, for his gout was particularly noxious today.

“I know,” Jerval said. “Let us go within and I will tell you everything.”

Once in the hall, Lord Hugh said, “What of the Scots? Did you get our cattle back? Capture the bastards?”

Jerval pulled Chandra down beside him on a trestle bench. He said, “We killed many of them, but their leader, Alan Durwald, escaped. I expect Ranulfe will catch up with the other Scots and will bring back the cattle.”

“Oh, my God, your hair!” Lady Avicia was staring at Chandra, pointing.

Chandra hurt, both in body and in spirit, but it appeared that there was nothing she could do about either. She shrugged, but it cost her dearly. “Their leader, Alan Durwald, chopped off my braid. Mark believed he did it because he would have a trophy. It doesn’t matter. It is just hair.”

Lady Avicia’s eyes bulged. “You were in the fighting? But, Jerval, you told me you would not allow it.”

“She did it anyway,” Jerval said, and nothing more.

“You smashed my glass window,” Lord Hugh said. “By all the saints’ blessed deeds, you should be beaten.”

Lady Avicia rose to stand over her daughter-in-law. “This nonsense must stop, Jerval, before she is killed through her own foolishness.”

Jerval rose and brought Chandra up beside him. When she would have pulled away, he just tightened his hold. He said very calmly, “Yes, it will stop. Now Chandra and I will bathe off our dirt. Mother, please have some ointment sent to my bedchamber. As you see, my wife is covered with cuts and bruises that must be tended to.” He paused a moment, then said over his shoulder, “When Alan Durwald saw that we had cut him off, Chandra managed to fling herself off his horse and save herself. Unfortunately, the ground was not smooth.”

“Hold still.”

She had no choice. Before he’d stripped off her torn, filthy clothing, he’d given her a potion to drink. “It will ease your pain. Now you will bathe; then I will see how badly you are hurt.”

He hadn’t left the bedchamber while she bathed. Indeed, he’d held a towel for her when she stepped out of the tub. “Lie down,” he’d said, and she did, on her stomach on the bed.

“Hold still,” he said again, only she hadn’t moved. Her body hurt and her spirit wanted to die.

He said nothing more, but she felt his hands on her, gentle, his fingers covered with the ointment, touching her here and there, looking at her everywhere. “Turn onto your back now.”

She turned onto her back. She hated it. She lay there, naked, and he was sitting beside her, only there was no caring in his eyes as he looked down at her, only duty, perhaps also impatience, and anger still simmering in him at what she had done.