Tancreddismounted, stood next to Drogo, and glanced back at Lord Bergeron, who had hisarm around Sir Guy's shoulders and was talking intently to the white-faced man."Why is Lord Bergeron always so close at hand whenever you have theopportunity to finally kill that adder?"
"Heis Sir Guy's uncle," Drogo replied in a tight voice, and then he took adeep breath to calm himself. "The man loathes Sir Guy but loves hissister, Guy's mother. For her sake, he does what he can to keep the foolalive."
"Hissister's son?" Tancred could not fully hide his horror. "Then you cannever kill Sir Guy."
"Yes,I can, and now I know that I must and I will. One day that fool's protectiveuncle will not be near or will finally decide that even his love for his sisteris not enough to make him save Sir Guy."
"Whywould Guy try so hard to kill Eada? From the look of both of them, there wasquite a battle here."
"Whocan say why Sir Guy does anything? After all the years he has hated me, I haveyet to understand why. He was clearly here killing the women and children ofthis village. Why should killing Eada trouble him? And he may wish to see herdead just to strike a blow at me. Then, too, I am sure that Eada rushed here tosave those innocents and spared Sir Guy none of her scorn and fury."
Tancredgrinned. "No, she would not think to hold her tongue." He frowned atthe chapel. "Do you think she will be long?" He looked around at thedeath and destruction in the village and grimaced. "If we linger here fortoo long, someone might think we had a hand in all of this."
"Iwill allow her a few more moments and then I will go in and bring her out. Shehas wounds of her own that need tending, and I wish to know all that happenedhere."
"Orwhy she even came here."
* * *
Eadafinished tying the bandage she had wrapped around the old woman's wounded armand sat back on her heels to look around. There were only six women in thechurch, including the old one she had just tended, but there were at least adozen children. Three of the children cowered near the altar, and Eadasuspected that they were now orphans. Sadly, there would undoubtedly be a lotmore by the time the fighting was over.
"Whosechildren are those?" she asked a plump, dark-haired woman who helped theold woman sip water from a goatskin.
"Theyare Edgar the swineherd's children. He died from a fever in the spring, andtheir mother is the woman that Norman killed outside the door."
"Isthere anyone who can take them in and care for them?"
"Takethem in where? All our homes are in ashes. And when this army leaves, I do notthink they will leave much behind save corpses."
Therewas no denying that hard truth, and Eada asked, "How old are they?"
"Thetaller boy is Edgar and he is twelve. His sister Hertha is ten, and the littleboy is Gar and he is five. Why do you need to know?" the woman asked.
Eadaheard the suspicion in the woman's voice and tried not to be hurt by it."Are you sure no one in the village can care for them? That they have nokinsmen left?"
"Verysure."
"ThenI will take them."
"Andgive them to those murderers?"
"Notall of the Normans are killers of children and helpless women. Did you not seethat I was saved from one Norman by another?"
"Ialso heard you speak in their tongue," she said, and there was a murmur ofangry agreement from the other women.
"AsI now speak in your tongue. My mother could speak both French and English andshe taught her children to do the same."
"Andyou ride with the Normans."
"Iwas captured in Pevensey, but God smiled upon me and I am held by a man whoholds both honor and mercy in his soul."
Thewoman shrugged. "That does not mean he will welcome and care for Saxonchildren, children who were orphaned by his own countrymen."
Eadastarted to find their suspicions irritating. "Did I not help you? Did Inot save your lives? I have already taken in a babe and a youth. I do not needmore mouths to fill and the man who holds me does not need them either. Andnone of you are offering to care for them, so why do you argue with me? Atleast I can offer them a chance to survive. Can you?"
Therewas a long, heavy silence as the women looked at each other and then at thethree terrified children. "No. Take them."
Theagreement was made in such a sullen tone of voice that Eada decided she hadbetter leave. Part of her understood their feelings, but another part wasdeeply hurt. As she urged the children out of the church, she realized thatmany of her people would distrust her now, for she rode with the enemy. It wasnot going to be easy to help her people if they all began to see her as theenemy, too.
