“I would recommend we leave the child inside of her and see where it takes us,” she said. “The child would be born very early and chances of survival would be difficult. The longer we leave him in the mother, the better. However, if her pain does not subside or grows worse, I can give her a potion that will begin her labor. I am afraid we have limited options, my lord.”
As Brandt leaned against the wall and weighed his choices, Dylan came off the stairs and entered the corridor. He was exhausted, just like the rest of them, his gaze fixed on Brandt.
“My lord,” he said as politely as he could. “A word, please.”
Brandt just looked at the man. He didn’t move. There was a deluge of reluctance in his expression, something that made him want to forget everything but his wife and her health. So much of his life had been dedicated to war. Now, all of that seemed to pale by comparison. He didn’t want to fight anymore, but he knew he had an entire country depending on him. It was a horrible burden to bear.
Wearily, he pushed himself off the wall and moved towards Dylan as the midwife retreated back inside the chamber. Brennan and Magnus crowded around as well.
“Our patrols have returned from following the king,” Dylan said, his voice low and hoarse. “They tell us that terrible weather is occurring to the south and that the king’s army has camped for the night south of Rennes. They have been slowed by the wounded they carry and also by the weather. If we leave now, it is possible to catch up to them.”
Brandt thought on that a moment. “Our troops are relatively fresh,” he said. “Our men were locked up in the fortress dodging arrows while his men were doing everything they could to breach the castle. We could conceivably catch them and weaken them further before they reach Edward.”
“That was my thought, my lord.”
“Jean carries more men than I do.”
“But the beast is weakened. If we strike while it is weak, we have a good chance for victory.”
Brandt knew that. “But what of these alleged negotiations to prevent Poitiers from becoming a massive battle? Jean violated that suggestion when he attacked Melesse to keep me away from Edward. Now he rides for Edward himself. We must show him that the Prince of Wales’ war machine is not weakened in the least.”
Dylan, Brennan, and Magnus nodded. “The men are prepared, my lord,” Dylan assured him.
Brandt could feel the familiar excitement of a battle march in his veins but it was tempered by his concern for his wife. He was terribly torn, not wanting to go with his men but by virtue of the fact that they werehismen, knowing he must. It was his sense of obligation, of honor, that forced him to comply. It was not his heart, which very much would remain here at Melesse with hiswife. He’d never felt so torn or miserable in his life but he knew what he had to do.
“Ready my charger,” he told his men without any enthusiasm whatsoever. “I will be down shortly and we will depart.”
His knights left the corridor, noisy armor and mail echoing off the walls, the stairwell, until the sounds of death and warfare faded away. Brandt stood in the corridor, summoning every ounce of courage he had to do what he knew he had to do. Already, it was killing him. He would have to leave his wife.
Quietly, he pushed open the chamber door. The midwife was burning white sage and peppermint because, Brandt suspected, she had a bit of mystic in her so the room smelled strongly as he entered. Ellowyn was lying on her back on the big bed, her eager attention focused on him as he came into the room. He smiled at her as he approached the bed.
“So you are awake?” he asked lightly. “I have not seen those lovely eyes in quite some time.”
Ellowyn smiled weakly in return. “How is everything?” she asked. “Did the castle fare well in the siege?”
He hadn’t really spoken to her about any of it because she had been sleeping so much. He sat down on the bed beside her and collected her soft hand, kissing it.
“Well enough,” he replied, but he changed the subject right away. He didn’t want to speak of the castle or his army just yet. “How are you feeling?”
Her smile faded. “Well, I suppose,” she said. “I want to get up and move about but the midwife will not let me.”
Brandt glanced at the midwife, who shook her head at him. He returned his focus to his wife.
“Has the pain in your belly gone away?” he asked.
She turned her head, not looking at him. “Not entirely.”
“Then perhaps you should listen to her.”
Unhappy with the opinion, Ellowyn simply kept her head turned, bordering on a pout. Brandt looked over at the midwife again and jerked his head in the direction of the door, silently ordering the woman to leave. Fortunately, she understood his command and slipped from the room.
When they were finally alone, Brandt leaned over Ellowyn, arms braced on either side of her. He studied the shape of her face, seeing perfect beauty in her delicate features. But she was staring off into the room, refusing to meet his eye, so he leaned down and began to gently suckle her jawbone.
“Do you recall when we first met that I said you were pleasing to the eye?” he murmured.
Ellowyn closed her eyes as he kissed her, thinking back to that day of days. “You also said you had no use for me.”
“I lied.”
