Warrior's Song (Medieval Song 1)

“Nothing. I’m sorry, Chandra.” He drew her against him for a moment to block out the squalor around them.

He led her back to Edward’s headquarters as evening fell. Chandra passed by the wounded English soldiers and fell to her knees by the small girl whose leg the Saracen had hacked off. There was a film of white over her staring dark eyes. She was dead.

Geoffrey Parker, one of Edward’s surgeons, knelt down beside her. “The child had no chance,” he said.

Chandra heard Jerval give a low growl in his throat behind her. She watched him lift the small child in his arms and carry her from the house. She rose to accompany him, wishing there were something she could say to him, but he strode away from her as if she were not there.

“She is beyond pain,” Geoffrey Parker said, touching his hand to her arm.

“He is taking her to be burned,” Chandra whispered, and felt the pain so deep, she knew it would never leave her.

“Aye. Come, my lady. If you wish it, I could use your help with our wounded.”

She looked up some time later to see Jerval strapping on his helmet. She jerked to her feet, filled with sudden fear. “What are you doing? Where are you going?”

“There are reports of Saracens outside the walls. Stay here and do not worry. I will be back soon.” He left her without another word, Lambert at his side.

Joanna de Chaworth handed her a piece of bread. “Here, Chandra, you must eat something. Eleanor sent me to fetch you. She wants you to rest now.”

Chandra looked at the bread, held out to her as the dead woman should have seen it. “Nay,” she whispered. “I have no wish for food. Oh, God, Joanna, the waste of it, all the suffering, it is too much to bear.”

When the wounded men were tended, Chandra walked to the doorway and sank down, waiting again for Jerval to return. The night air was cool upon her face. Over the housetops beyond, she could see black smoke billowing upward from the funeral pyres.

“Lady Chandra!”

She looked up to see Lambert running toward her.

“It’s my lord,” he said, clutching at her arm. “He has been wounded. The Saracens came upon us from the rocks.”

Geoffrey Parker, Edward’s physician, jumped to his feet and hurried to the door. For an instant, Chandra could not move. She could bear no more suffering, no more death. Oh, God, please, not Jerval.

“My lady!” Geoffrey shouted to her. “Prepare a place for him, quickly.”

“God’s teeth!” she heard Jerval bellow, pain deep in his throat. “Do not tear my flesh from my damned bones!” He was carried through the door by Payn, Rolfe, and two men-at-arms.

“Do not worry,” Payn de Chaworth said, casting her a quick glance over his shoulder. “The wound is not deep, but the blood has congealed and stuck to his shirt.”

Chandra could only nod. She smoothed down a bed of blankets, and Jerval was lowered, cursing, onto his back.

“By all the saints’ misery, Payn,” he said, gritting his teeth, “would that you were not such a clumsy oaf.”

“Aye, and you not such a noble lout.”

Chandra fell to her knees beside him, pushed back the sweaty hair from his forehead and held his face between her hands. “You told me you would be all right, damn you. You promised me you would take care, but you didn’t. You lied to me. I am very angry at you about this, Jerval.”

He smiled up at her through the gnawing pain in his side. “I did promise you, and I meant it. I swear that I did not mean to get hurt. Now, the wound isn’t deep. Stop your worrying.”

“My lady,” Geoffrey Parker said, and pushed her away. She watched as Lambert and Payn unstrapped his armor and stripped off his bloody clothes. Geoffrey probed at his torn flesh. “I am relieved, Sir Jerval,” he said. “It is but a needle and thread I’ll need for you.” He yelled for more water.

Edward leaned over Jerval, shaking his head in grim humor. “What have you to say, sir? I send you forth to dispatch the heathen, and it is you who are on your back.”

“I will survive, sire,” Jerval said.

“The blood is clotted,” Chandra said. “I will bathe him. He will be all right, sire. If he isn’t, I will kill him.”

Geoffrey saw shock in her eyes, and nodded. It was better to let her care for her husband. “Aye, you bathe the wound, then call me.”

Jerval looked up at her and smiled. “I am not going to die, Chandra, even though you were not at my side to protect me.”