Eadatore her gaze from Drogo and looked at the older knight who calmly steppedbetween the two younger men. She had not yet learned how to tell who was higherborn, but the reactions of Sir Guy and Drogo told her that this battle-scarred,grey-haired knight sat a lot higher at the table than they did. Both men easedtheir battle stances, lowering their sword points slightly as they faced theman.
"LordBergeron—" Drogo began.
"No,Sir Drogo, there is no need for explanations. I saw all that happened."Lord Bergeron stepped closer and placed a hand on each man's shoulder. Theyquickly obeyed his silent command to sheath their swords, although neither lookedpleased to do so. "Young Sir Guy was hasty, and I am sure he regrets notleaving the girl's discipline in your capable hands, Sir Drogo. It is not worthwasting good Norman blood, however. We have been on these shores but two daysand a great many days of fighting lie ahead of us. Let us not waste ourstrength here. Go, Sir Drogo, and take the pretty little girl with you. Sir Guyand I will have a word or two, hmmm?" Lord Bergeron slipped his thicklymuscled arm around Sir Guy's slender shoulders.
Afterbowing to the older man and casting one last cold look at Sir Guy, Drogograbbed Eada by the hand and started to walk back to his camp. Eada stumbledalong behind him, but managed one last look back at Sir Guy and Lord Bergeron.The older man was doing all the talking and Sir Guy's tight, pale expressiontold her that the words he listened to were not to his liking.
"Iam sorry," she whispered when she looked at Drogo and caught him frowningdown at her.
"Youshould have stayed with Ivo as I told you to."
"Ihad little choice. Sir Guy is a Norman knight. You also told me to remember thatI am a prisoner, and neither Ivo nor May could safely deny the man what hewanted. The man strode into your camp, said he needed me to talk to hisprisoners, and took me with him. Despite his insulting manner, I said nothingand did as I was told."
"Sohe struck you because you were so obedient?" Drogo stopped and lightlytouched the bruises on the side of her face.
"Heseemed to think I was saying too much to his prisoners."
"Andwhat did you say to them?"
"Itold the women exactly what he told me to tell them and then I spoke to theyouth Godwin. I told him that the only battle he should fight now is the one ofsurvival, not only for his own sake but for the sake of those two terrifiedwomen and the babes."
"Andthat is all you said to them?"
"Yes.It would be foolish to try and stir rebellion in the hearts of a boy, twofrightened women, and two babes when we are in the midst of thousands of armedmen." She sighed when he only smiled faintly at her tart words. "SirGuy hit me because I did not stop talking when he told me to. All that was notwhat I said I was sorry for."
"Thenwhat are you sorry for?"
"BecauseI think what has just happened has made Sir Guy hate you even more than healready did." She cursed inwardly when Drogo offered her no argument.
Nine
Eadagrimaced, shifted slightly in Drogo's arms, and struggled to go back to sleep.Curled up in Drogo's arms but unable to make love because they had no privacy,she had found sleep annoyingly difficult. She did not want to be awake, but thevoice in her head would not shut up. Something pulled at her, demanded that sheleave her safe, warm haven; and she cursed as she finally accepted that shewould not get any more sleep until she answered that voice. Fully awake, herdecision made, she suddenly realized that what she could hear in her head wasweeping and a cry for help.
Drogomurmured a protest as she eased out of his hold, but to her great relief, he didnot wake up. Her hounds whined a greeting as she tiptoed past them, and shesignaled them to be quiet. She did not hesitate to think about where she wasgoing; she knew. The cry in her head led her. So intent was she on followingthat cry that she was only faintly aware of her hounds trotting silently by herside, but their presence eased some of her trepidation.
Whenshe found herself in the shadowed woods, she reached out for her dogs. Althoughthe bright moonlight helped her to see where she was walking, it alsoheightened the unsettling eeriness of the shadows around her. She caught holdof her dogs' rope collars, and her painfully rapid heartbeat slowed.
Justas she began to think that the voice in her head had been no more than theremnants of some frightening dream, she saw the woman. She was huddled at thebase of a tree, and it was impossible to tell if she was alive or dead. It wasnot until Eada reached the woman's side that she saw the swaddled child held inthe woman's arms. Even as she soothed her nervous dogs with a pat, Eada kneltby the woman's side, smiling a greeting when her eyes slowly opened.
"Areyou hurt?" she asked.
"Mortally,"the woman replied, her voice a raspy thread of sound.
Eadaneeded to open the woman's cloak only a little to judge the truth of that. Thepale gown beneath the cloak was soaked in the blood from several wounds. Shefelt the woman's face and found only the coldness of approaching death.
"Whoare you and where are you from?" Eada asked.
"Iam Aldith, wife of Edward of Bexhill." Aldith eased the blanket away fromher child's face. "This is Alwyn, my son. He was born when the firecrossed the sky, a day after Easter."
"Apowerful omen to be born under."
"Andmayhap a good one, for he is one of the few who may survive the slaughter atBexhill." Aldith touched a kiss to the baby's forehead. "I give himto you. Come, we both know that I am dying. I beg you to ease my passing bypromising to care for my child."
"Ipromise," Eada said and silently prayed she would not have too muchdifficulty in convincing Drogo to let her keep that vow.
"MayGod bless you."
Thewords were said with Aldith's dying breath. Eada gently closed the woman's eyesand felt torn between grief and an inability to decide what to do next. Shewanted to bury Aldith and wanted to grab the child and race back to camp, awayfrom the shadows of the forest and the presence of death.
