Bridget grinned as she carefully handed Ellowyn the cup. “I beg to differ, my lady,” she said. “The infant demands apples and apples he shall have. Whatever goes into your mouth goes directly to him to make him big and strong like his father. We are quite anxious to meet him, you know.”
Ellowyn rubbed her belly. “Not too soon,” she said. “He is not due until October. We do not want to meet him too soon.”
Small talk bounced between them as Bridget went to one of the three long and slender lancet windows in the room to secure the oilcloth that had come loose from its binding. There was a nice breeze, cooling the warm air as she gazed out over the enormous bailey of Melesse.
It was a massive bastion that had been in Exeter’s family for nearly two hundred years, part of a dowry from a grandmother several generations back. Situated on the top of a wooded hill with vast views of the surrounding countryside in all directions, it was a truly magnificent structure of golden stone and soaring towers. It was at least twice the size of Guildford and four times the size of Erith, with rooms and passages, kitchens, two halls, and innumerable miscellaneous chambers. For the first several months of their residency, they’d had great fun exploring it all until Brandt put a stop to it, fearful his pregnant wife would hurt herself going up and down narrow stairs or squeezing through tight passages.
It wasn’t particularly strange that a man so devoted to his wife should become even more devoted with the event of her pregnancy. Ellowyn had felt fine since the beginning and ate like a horse as Brandt watched every move she made with a nervous edge. He was thrilled and deeply thankful for the pregnancy, which made it extraordinarily difficult for him to leave from time to time to go on campaigns with Edward.
In fact, the situation was heating up with Edward’s wars as he drove north from Aquitaine on a campaign to grow his base and strengthen his troops, and Brandt was simply going through the motions. His heart wasn’t in it. He wanted to be home with his wife and he certainly wanted to be present for the birth of the baby. Rumor had it, according to the knights, that Edward and Brandt were growing increasingly hostile towards each other because of it.
Why was Bridget knew Brandt wouldn’t be away for too much longer. They had been counting the days. In fact, as she stood in the window watching the bailey below, a group of soldiers flooded in from the gatehouse. Because of the angle of the road and the trees surrounding it, it was often difficult to spot visitors to Melesse until they were upon them. Curious, Bridget peered closer to the worn-out group, suddenly realizing a knight from Brandt’s corps was with them. She recognized the charger.
“Magnus has returned,” she said, bolting away from the window. “He is in the bailey!”
Ellowyn was so startled that she jumped up, her knitting falling to the floor. “Is Brandt with him?”
She was rushing to the window with Annabeth on her heels. Bridget closed in on them and the three of them crowded around the window, straining to see the dusty bailey below. Ellowyn couldn’t see much now that the party had fully entered the bailey and, frustrated, she turned away.
“I am going to see Magnus,” she declared as she moved for the door. Then, she froze, eyes wide. “You do not suppose… Sweet Jesus, you do not suppose he is here to give me bad news?”
Annabeth and Bridget tried not to look fearful. Before they could reply, Ellowyn was bolting from the room and making haste towards the massive spiral staircase at the end of the hall that led to the first floor beyond. She was in a panic now, terrified that Magnus had come bearing news of Brandt’s injury or worse. By the time she reached the lower floor and fled to the keep entry, she was in tears.
Cooler heads prevailed with Annabeth and Bridget as they followed. They caught up to Ellowyn as she reached the entry and grasped her gently by the arms, stopping her panicked flight. By this time, most of the keep had been made aware of a knight’s return and even old Mme. Simpelace appeared. When she saw Ellowyn’s hysteria, she was naturally concerned.
“What is it?” she demanded. “Why is my lady so upset?”
Annabeth cast the woman a long look and shook her head,do not ask more. The old woman, silly and vindictive as she might be, took the hint. She may have been at odds with the ladies but she was not at odds with Ellowyn. She was genuinely concerned.
“I will bring her something soothing,” she said as she scooted off.
Annabeth and Bridget exchanged relieved glances that the old woman had left them alone. Ellowyn, however, was insistent that they go down to the bailey where Magnus was, so they calmly escorted her down the big wooden stairs to the dusty, rocky bailey below.
It was windy upon the mountain top, gusts whipping around hair and hemlines. Magnus was with several other soldiers near the stable block to the south. Melesse had a wide open and sloping bailey because of the shape of the mountaintop they satupon, and the stables were lodged on perhaps the flattest part. Ellowyn pulled free of her escorts and gathered her skirts, racing across the dust until she came to the smelly stables. She didn’t want to wait any longer for whatever news Magnus brought.
“Magnus!” she called as she approached. “Magnus!”
Magnus was just removing his helm as he heard Lady de Russe’s voice. Startled, he whirled around to see that she was racing towards him. With her big belly evident, he did what her ladies often did– he made haste towards her and tried to stop her momentum.
“Lady de Russe,” he said, grasping her by the arms. “Why are you running? You should not be exerting yourself so.”
Ellowyn would have none of his mothering. “Stop telling me what I should and should not be doing,” she snapped. “Everyone tells me that and I hate it, do you hear? Tell me where my husband is this instant.”
He wasn’t surprised by the tone of the demand. Lady de Russe was well known for her snappish manner at times, made worse by the babe she carried. In fact, all of the knights had lived in fear of it, including her husband, making going to war somewhat of the less fearful option.
“He is a few days behind me, my lady,” he replied steadily. “He has sent me back to Melesse to wait for him.”
Ellowyn cocked her head, calming now that her husband was the subject of the conversation. “Wait for him?” she repeated. “What do you mean?”
Magnus sighed faintly and it was then that Ellowyn noticed he looked particularly pale. So pale, in fact, that the circles beneath his eyes were almost green in tint. She peered closely at him.
“Magnus, are you well?” she asked. “What is the matter?”
He took her elbow and turned her for the keep. As they walked, Ellowyn and her ladies noticed that he was moving particularly slow.
“I was wounded nearly two weeks ago,” he replied. “I have been unable to keep up with Lord de Russe although I have tried. I was nearly killed yesterday because my reflexes are slow, so the duke asked me to return to Melesse and rest until he returns.”
Ellowyn was very concerned for him. “Where were you wounded?”
