“I can well imagine.”
“We fled that night, all of us, in the midst of that tempest, and made to take refuge in the forest. We were outlaws then, for we defied the will of the baron.” She swallowed. “Oswald thought Sir Royce would see reason when the mill wheel ceased to turn and there was no flour for his bread. He thought we might be able to negotiate, for the baron needs his villeins as much as the peasants need their baron.”
Bartholomew guessed that had not been the case. He waited, watching the play of emotion on the older woman’s features.
“The others came soon after us, a tide of villagers fleeing the baron’s wrath. The number of us in the forest was swelled beyond all expectation. We knew there had been those taking refuge in the forest already, but we did not find them before the baron’s men were upon us. The knights encircled us, trapping us in a small space. They rode their steeds around us until the storm stopped and the stars came out overhead. We were wet and cold, fearful, even before they set the trees afire. I thought they would not burn after the fire, but the knights persisted until they did. Oswald saw that we would be killed. He made us flee before the circle was fully closed. I feared I would slow them too much. They would not leave me behind, my good sons.” She halted then, her words turning husky. “Oswald on one side and Edgar on the other, then Willa stumbled and Oswald lifted me in his arms.”
Bartholomew reached out and took her shaking hand. She clutched at his fingers and he felt her shaking. “You do not need to tell me of it.”
“I do,” Esme insisted. “Ido. For Oswald lives only when his valor is remembered.” She took a shaking breath. “He carried me, even as Rheda carried Anna and urged Nyle to speed. Edgar aided Willa, but they fell behind with their two young ones. Willa was with child and very near her time.”
“Yet Rheda managed to carry Anna herself?”
“Anna was so thin, she might have been a child. We fled into the darkness, away from the fire, having no good sense of direction. A horse and rider appeared before us. I can see them yet. We turned and fled into the undergrowth, but were not fast enough. I was looking over my son’s shoulder. I saw the warrior lift the crossbow. I saw him take aim and I closed my eyes to pray. But Oswald was struck. He stumbled once, then fell over me. Rheda was felled a moment later, Anna crushed beneath her. Nyle cried out and ran, though I reached for him. I know he did not get far for I heard his shout of pain.” She shook her head and her tears fell. “I could not move. I did not want to move. Those I loved had been stolen from me, and there was only fire and death on all sides. Indeed, I wished only to die myself.”
Bartholomew watched and listened, wishing he could change what had occurred.
“It is an evil thing for a mother to see her child die before she breathes her last,” Esme said. “And her grandchild as well. That was a dark night, darker than any I have ever known, for I had no wish to survive. And so it was that Oswald protected me even in his death. I was overlooked by the marauding knights, for we were just another pair of corpses in the mire. A great burning ring of fire lit the sky that night, one that I shall never forget—for its heat, for its brilliance, for the sounds of those dying within its blaze.”
“The new burn,” Bartholomew murmured.
“It was uncommonly cold when I awakened, the sunlight so bright that it hurt my old eyes. The trees were blackened all around me, and smoke rose from the ashes. I thought I dreamed when I heard movement near me, for it seemed that all the world was dead and gone. It was Anna, her fingers grappling against the ground. I found my strength then, and moved from beneath Oswald. I cried out and Edgar found us, for he had been seeking us. He rolled Rheda away and found Anna alive. We stumbled away from there together, and soon those who lived as outlaws in the forest found us. They took us to their haven, clothed and fed us, and it was not long before Anna rounded with child. She named her Kendra.”
“After the father.”
Esme nodded. “Anna was not the sole one to see hope in that babe’s birth, but I knew from the first that Kendra would not thrive. She was small and sickly, too thin and too pale.” Esme bit her lip. “I was not surprised that the sweet babe did not survive her first winter, but I wept all the same.”
Bartholomew held Esme’s hand while she mastered her tears, hoping that his presence gave her strength. “I thank you for trusting me with the tale of Oswald,” he said quietly, aware that others began to stir. “I would have liked to have known such a brave and good man.” It was not a lie, for he had only a vague recollection of the miller’s son. They had not known each other in truth, though they had met, that long ago morning on the floor of the mill.
“I thank you for your kindness, sir,” Esme said, her words yet uneven.
Bartholomew was resolved then that although he could not change the past, he would affect the future of these people. How could the king be persuaded to take his cause? He did not know, but his first task was to free Duncan.
“And now you would leave us,” she said, a hint of accusation in her tone.
“And now I would do what must be done,” Bartholomew corrected.
“It will be dangerous.”
“No man of merit shirks a dangerous obligation.” Bartholomew took the purse from his belt and put it into the older woman’s hands. “Please give this to Anna for me.”
“Because you leave,” Esme accused.
“She will want to spurn the gift, but I trust you to convince her otherwise.” He heard his voice drop deeper. “There might be a child.”
Esme caught her breath. “Coin will not be what she needs.”
“But it is what I can give.” Bartholomew lifted the older woman’s hand and kissed her knuckles. “Be well, Esme. I hope our paths do cross again.”
“As do I, sir. As do I.”
Bartholomew stood and turned to stride away, but Esme cleared her throat so loudly that he glanced back.
“Ask Father Ignatius for his keys,” she advised. “I have no doubt that he will entrust them to you, and your quest may be simpler.”
Bartholomew smiled, for he had forgotten the priest’s ring of keys. He had the key to the dungeon and had thought it sufficient. There had been others on that ring, though. “Indeed, it will, Esme. I thank you.”
*
