The word echoed in his thoughts until he, too, fell into sleep’s grasp.
Fayth woke to an empty bed and an empty chamber. From the light that managed to force its way through or around the wooden shutters, she could tell the day was a pleasant one. Made even more pleasant by the absence of her courses.
With Emma’s help, she dressed and sought her husband in the hall. She hoped he would allow her to visit the village. Listening to his plans, she’d begun to doubt Edmund’s claims about him. She’d seen his outrage at Lord Huard’s men and their demands. She would get word to Edmund and tell him that she could not help him.
She arrived in the hall in time to witness a loud argument between her husband and his friend. How they remained friends she knew not, for this was not the first nor the worst she’d seen between them.
‘None of us have the least amount of knowledge or skill to handle this, Giles. It must be her,’ Brice argued.
‘And you have heard my word on the matter. The lady does not leave the keep this day.’ At Brice’s loud curse, he continued, ‘You saw them and you heard them. The boundaries of my lands are but an imaginary line to them, there for them to adhere to or ignore at their pleasure. Huard will not honour it if he believes I have something of his and he believes it now.’
‘Giles, be not an ass,’ Brice yelled. Fayth waited for the blows to rain down but they did not. ‘This woman is in a bad way. ’Tis said your lady has some skill in these matters. I am not saying to let her traipse madly along the village paths, just let her see to this.’
‘One of the women in the village can see to this, not the lady,’ her husband declared, crossing his arms over his chest to signify the end of the discussion.
‘May I have some say in this matter, my lord?’ she asked as they all turned to face her. Apparently they were so wrapped up in their argument that no one had noticed her arrival.
‘One of the villagers has been injured.’ Giles looked at Hallam.
‘Nissa, my lady. Wife of Siward the farmer,’ Hallam announced to her. Hallam had come from the village, one of the overseers of it for her father, and had been helping with her work there. But the names he now gave her were none known to her amongst her people. ‘They live with her sister, Edith, one of the weavers,’ he prompted.
Something was afoot, for these people named were not tenants or serfs here. In remembering her husband’s concerns about staying out of Lord Huard’s matters, she realised the truth of it—they were runaway serfs from his lands seeking refuge.
‘I know the woman you mean, Hallam. How is she injured?’
‘Her sister would only say that she is in grievous pain, my lady.’
She looked at her husband and waited on his judgement. If she pushed for permission, she was certain he would refuse, so she crossed her own arms and tapped one foot and stared at him. It was a gesture her own mother had used frequently in dealing with her father, so she thought to try it now. Apparently, it worked, for he let out a curse that made her cringe and then shouted orders that made it happen. He left the rest in Brice’s hands and did not accompany them.
After gathering what Emma thought best to take, they made their way under guard to the village and to Edith’s cottage. When Brice would have entered first, she stopped him.
‘If this is a womanly injury, surely you do not wish to help, Sir Brice?’ she asked, gifting him with the most innocent expression she could force. Men rarely wanted to involve themselves in ‘womanly matters’. When he withdrew, she followed Emma into the hut and found the woman in question on a pallet by the fire.
Fayth could see no place on the woman that was not burned or bruised. Her hair had been roughly chopped nearly to her scalp in spots and her lips were torn and bloodied. Fortunately, she was unconscious and did not feel the ministrations of those called to see to her.
‘My lady, can you help her?’ Edith begged.
‘Emma is the skilled one, Edith. Let us assist her and see to your sister’s needs.’
Emma listed the items she needed and Fayth watched as Edith moved quickly to get them. Fayth opened the chest of herbs and medicaments and mixed unguents and possets as she directed…and she tried not to let the horror of this woman’s abuse show on her face.
The woman’s husband could not hide his. She glanced up to see him standing in the corner, not in much better condition than his wife. She went to him to see to his needs. Siward brushed her off and begged her to help his wife.
‘What happened to her?’ Emma asked softly.
‘The Norman lord did not believe that we were free tenants and he had us beaten when we dared to argue.’ Siward let out a rasping breath, one that spoke of broken ribs and other damage. ‘He took all the women and marked them as his slaves and then turned them over to his men. Nissa fought back and tried to escape and they…and they…’
‘Hush now,’ Emma said, passing a cup to him. ‘Drink this and it will ease your pain.’
With efficient and careful movements, the three women washed Nissa and removed the burned and torn garments from her. Turning her on her side, Fayth nearly cried out as they witnessed the horror of her back and legs. She forced it back within and continued to work with Emma and Edith to finish cleaning the woman’s wounds and dressing them.
It took some time, but finally they finished and were able to make Nissa swallow some of Emma’s pain concoction before letting her rest. Siward didn’t move from his place until they drew a blanket up around her.
‘Refuge, my lady. We beg refuge,’ he whispered.
‘I cannot grant that, Siward. My lord husband is a vassal of the Norman duke and I do not think he will go against Lord Huard in this.’
Her heart broke at the thought that Giles would allow such injustice to happen and not intercede, but after Lord Huard’s men had made Giles’s place very clear, she simply could not answer for him. She was about to find out if Emma could stay with the woman, when Brice interrupted from outside.
