When the man realized what she was holding, his eyes widened in shock and perhaps also fear. He backed away from it as if the object radiated fire, directed at him. There was an aversion there, something to be feared. But after a moment, he seemed to calm a little, his gaze never leaving that small, twisted object.
“Why do you have it?” he finally asked.
“Please answer me,” she said. “I will not be angry. Did you give this to a knight?”
He hesitated before nodding, once. Catalina looked at the small golden cross with the carnelian stones. After a moment, she smiled, but it was nearly a grimace.
There were a lot of memories in that little cross.
“I remember when I gave it to Alfred,” she said. “I wished him well and he departed.”
The man’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, flickering and fearful. “Who are you?”
“Lord Eckington’s daughter.”
“Catalina?”
“Aye.”
It was the lady herself. He hadn’t known her on sight, but here she was, standing in front of him. What a beautiful womanshe was and, somehow, more memories of Alfred speaking about his wife came back to him. He’d spoken of her beauty. But Rebecca came around the corner and interrupted the moment as she brought a napkin that had bread and some kind of jerky in it, as well as a pitcher with some very stale wine.
“Here,” she said, handing the items to Catalina. “This is all I could find.”
Catalina took the food, handing it over to the man, who stood up quickly and extended a hand that had three fingers burned to the nubs. He took the food, turning his back on her as he moved his scarf aside and began wolfing down the bread.
“I am sorry,” he said, mouth full as he tried to keep them from seeing his face. “I have not eaten in some time. I am very sorry.”
“Do not apologize,” Catalina said. “Here—take the wine or you’ll choke.”
He did, drinking it down and spilling it all over himself. Catalina and Rebecca exchanged concerned glances at the actions of the poor, wretched creature.
“You are injured,” Rebecca said, trying to get a look at what was under the scarf. “Are you in pain? Do you need help?”
The man shook his head, coughing as he choked on the wine. “Nay, my lady,” he said. “I am healed from my injuries, though the scars remain. I am not in pain.”
Rebecca was still trying to get a look at him. “But how did you hurt yourself?”
He managed to swallow the bite in his mouth. “Fire,” he said. “There was a fire and I was burned. I spent time in France, being tended to by priests, before I made my way back to England.”
He shoved more bread in his mouth as Rebecca moved closer. “How terrible,” she said. “Won’t you come and sit down? Surely you must be exhausted.”
He saw that she was coming closer and quickly pulled the scarf over his face. “Please, my lady,” he said, holding out a hand to stop her. “You do not want to see more of me. It would haunt your dreams.”
Rebecca paused. “Very well,” she said. “But will you at least sit?”
He nodded. But then he turned to look at Catalina and held up his hand, the one with the missing fingers, and she could see a faint outline of the cross seared on his palm.
“It was so hot that it burned my hand,” he told her, his voice hoarse. “But I knew… it was important. I saved it from the fire.”
Catalina nodded, seeing that he was quickly becoming distressed. “Please,” she said, indicating the stool again. “Sit down again. We will find you more food. I will find you more food and Lady Rebecca can sit with you, if you like. She is very kind. You needn’t be afraid.”
Wearily, he sat on the stool again as Rebecca lowered herself to her knees a few feet away, facing him. She began talking to him about his travels and where he had been, something he seemed unclear on—but he had been to London, and Rebecca took the conversation from there. She talked about the cathedral and the woman on Wick Street who made dresses for her mother. She spoke of anything she could think of, and at that moment, Catalina ceased to see the spoiled girl who had caused so much trouble. She saw a young woman trying to help.
It was a remarkable thing to witness.
Behind Rebecca, about twenty feet away, were Adabella and Ines, lying on the ground as puppies walked all over them. Her girls were happy and occupied and the very man everyone had been searching for, the mysterious visitor who had caused such an uproar, was being tended to by a gracious daughter of de Lohr. Catalina kept her gaze on the scene, walking backward until she came within line of sight of the entry door. Beyond thatwas the staging ground and the gate that led out to the lists, the village, and the castle. She was hoping to find a servant to send for Essien, but as she turned her head to look, she could see her husband coming into the staging area along with Addax and Lance.
The very men she wanted to see.
