“I am the most fortunate man on earth,” he said after a moment. “That you should try to protect me with your life, Ellowyn… I do not know what to say except how fortunate I feel to have such devotion. But he could have killed you.”
Ellowyn didn’t reply. She was still weeping softly, wiping at her cheeks, and he left her long enough to find a kerchief among the goods strewn about the room and bring it back to her. She wiped her face off.
“If given the chance, I would do the same thing again,” she said softly. “I could not let him kill you. I will not let anyone kill you.”
“You are very brave.”
She shook her head, fixing him in the eye. “I am not brave,” she said. “I am in love with my husband and there is nothing I would not do for him, even if it cost me my life.”
He stroked her head with a big hand. “As I said,” he whispered, “I am the most fortunate man on earth.”
Ellowyn smiled weakly, blowing her nose and wiping off the remainder of her tears. It was evident that she was attempting to regain her composure. But the tears weren’t finished yet.
“Dear God,” she sighed, gazing up to the ceiling, the window, as if seeing things beyond. “What is my mother going to say? She will be crushed. And my grandmother… I cannot even fathom what she will be feeling.”
He watched her a moment. “Do you want to return home?”
Her head snapped to him, eyes wide with surprise. “Home?” she repeated. “Why would you ask that?”
He shrugged. “To tend to your mother and grandmother in the wake of your father’s death,” he said softly. “If you wish to return to Erith, I will send you with an escort.”
She cocked her head. “You will not go with me?”
He sighed heavily, again, and moved towards the lancet window that overlooked the bailey. The day was cool and breezy at dawn as the men below were already awake and going about their affairs.
“Alex returned yesterday with over three thousand men,” he said. “I have what I returned to England for. I have men to support Edward’s war in France. There is no longer any reason for me to remain here. I would be happy to send you back to Erith to stay with your mother and grandmother, but I must return to France.”
Ellowyn stared at him. “Just like that?” she asked. “With everything that has happened and everything we have saidto each other, you would leave me behind without a second thought?”
He turned to look at her. “It is not how you make it seem,” he said, rather perplexed that she should seem so emotional when they’d had the same conversation a dozen times. “Of course I do not want to leave you, but I certainly cannot take you with me. I….”
“Why not?”
He shook his head firmly, leaning up against the windowsill. “We have been over this subject, Wynny,” he said. “You know why I cannot take you.”
“But I do not want to go to Erith. I want to go with you.”
“You cannot.”
Emotional, exhausted, and wounded, she burst into angry tears, falling over on the bed and sobbing into the pillows that surrounded her. Then she screeched somewhat when her wound pained her from the sudden movement. Brandt came away from the window and went to the bed, trying to soothe her. She was lying awkwardly and he carefully gathered her up and tried to move her, but she cried out in pain when he tried, so he simply left her. His big hand stroked her hair.
“Please do not do this,” he begged softly. “Please do not upset yourself so. You know I must go and you cannot go with me. Why do you torment yourself so?”
She wept pitifully. “My father is dead,” she sobbed. “Now you would leave me. I will be all alone.”
“You will not be alone if you return to Erith,” he reminded her gently. “You will be with your mother and grandmother.”
“Please do not leave me,” she cried, acting as if she had not heard him. “I am afraid that this heaven that we have known, this bliss that has become everything to me, will cease to exist once you are gone and will never be the same. When you return again, we will be as strangers and perhaps things will bedifferent, and if you do not return at all, I do not want the news of your death to be delivered by cold and unfeeling men who have no regard for the love you and I share. Please, Brandt… I beg you… take me with you.”
He sighed sadly. Unfortunately, he was feeling himself relent. He had been now for some time. It was true that he had many properties in France and it was true that she could live there and he could see her far more often than if she remained behind in England. Aye, he wanted her with him. He wanted her more than he would admit. He struggled to make one last stand against the pleading that was breaking down his walls like a battering ram.
“Wynny, I cannot,” he whispered. “All of France is in turmoil. It is no place for you.”
She covered her face with her hands. “Then it is true,” she wept. “What my father said is true. War is your mistress and Edward is more important than I am.”
“That isnottrue.”
“Aye, it is,” she nearly screamed at him. “If it were not true, you would ensure that we were never apart. But your prince and your wars are by far more important than I am. What a fool I was to think a declaration of love would change all of that. You are a warrior, Brandt, and a husband second. That pains me more than you will ever know and if I mean no more to you than that, I may as well return to Erith.”
