Earth Song (Medieval Song 3)

Then Edmund was astride Daisy again and she cried, “Away, Edmund!”

The destrier was huge and fast and mean, and he quickly ate distance from Crandall. They needed to be fast. Philippa could imagine that Walter was already after them, unless she’d hit him so very hard that he was still unconscious and unable to give orders. The destrier pulled away even further, quickly outstripping Daisy. Philippa tried to pull him back, but her one strong hand wasn’t enough. The destrier was in control.

“Edmund!” She turned back, her hair flying madly in her face.

“Hold, Philippa. I’m coming!”

But it wasn’t Edmund who stopped the great destrier. It was a man flying out of the darkness astride a huge stallion, his head bare, his face averted, all his attention on the frantically galloping horse.

Other men appeared, shouting out, and she heard Edmund yell, “Father! Father, quickly, help Philippa!”

And she felt the reins jerked from her hand and then the destrier lurched up on his hind legs, whinnying frantically, his front hooves flailing, and she hard Dienwald’s voice, soothing, calming the frenzied animal.

Then it was over and Philippa was weaving on the horse’s back, her gown torn and pulled to her thighs, and she smiled at the man who turned to face her.

“The horse was maddened because of my smell,” Philippa said, just content to stare at his face.

“You make no sense, wench.”

“The blood . . . the smell of blood,” she said. “It maddens animals to smell a human’s blood.” She slumped forward against the animal’s neck. Before she fell unconscious, his arms were around her, drawing her close, and she sighed deeply, content now to give it up.

The burning pain brought her back. She tried to jerk away from it, cursing it in her mind, begging the pain to release her for just a few minutes longer, just a moment longer, but it was there and it was worse and she moaned and opened her eyes.

“Hold still.”

She focused on Dienwald, leaning over her. He wasn’t looking at her face, but looking grimly down at her arm. “Hello,” she said. “I’m glad to see you. We knew you had to be close.”

“Hold still and keep your tongue behind your teeth.”

But she couldn’t. There was too much to be said, too much to be explained. “Am I going to die?”

“Of course you’re not going to die, you heedless wench!”

“Is Edmund all right?”

“Yes. Now, be quiet, you try me sorely with your babble.”

“I fainted, I suppose, and I’ve never before fainted in my whole life. I was scared until I saw you, and then it was all right.”

“Be still. Why is your voice so rough?”

“The guard tried to strangle me after I struck him with the knife handle. His head was powerfully hard, but Edmund told him his mother bedded infidels to get his attention from me, and then hit him with a spade and he finally fell. We got away from him, we got away from all of them. I counted the minutes, you know, and the other sentries were elsewhere. You knew we were at Crandall. Silken reached you safely.”

“Aye, be quiet now.”

“I prayed he would reach you. It was our only hope. Walter was stupid—he gave Silken time to outrun his men. I knew he would reach you, knew you would come.”

“Wench, shut your irritating mouth.”

“Walter’s mistress tried to kill me, you know. Isn’t that strange? And she kept screaming that she didn’t care that I would bring him riches, ’twas she who would have him. I gave him to her freely, and I told her that. I also wanted to tell her that there were no riches, nay, not even a single coin. And he came in when I yelled my head off and he saw the blood on my arm, yet he went to her and held her and her name was Britta and it was her clothes he’d given me to wear. I struck him with a stool and he went down like a stone. It was a wonderful sound and he pinned the woman beneath him. I got her knife and the keys and locked them in.”

“Philippa, you’re weak from loss of blood and you’re babbling. Now, be still.”

“She has huge breasts,” Philippa said, then closed her eyes at a particularly sharp jab in her arm. “Walter had given me her clothes and they were much too short for me and much too loose in the chest. Her breasts are of a mighty size. Gorkel and Crooky were wondrous funny.” Dienwald drew in a deep breath at that moment and poured ale over the wound. Philippa lurched up, crying out softly, then fell back unconscious.

Dienwald stilled for a moment, then quickly placed his palm over her heart. The beat was slow and steady. He bound up her arm, then turned to see Northbert’s legs. He didn’t rise, just looked up at his man and said, “She’s unconscious again, but the wound is clean, and if there is no poisoning, she will be all right.”

Northbert nodded. “Master Edmund is overexcited, master, his tongue rattling about. Gorkel told him to go to sleep, but he can’t close his mouth.”