“My lord,” he said, crossing the room. “You received my message?”
Thomas nodded; he couldn’t help but notice how utterly pale and weary Dennis appeared. More than that, his manner was eager and very nearly submissive. He wasn’t at all like the arrogant, stubborn man who had come to claim Ryan. In fact, Thomas hardly recognized him. He was rather shocked.
“I did,” he replied. “How is my daughter?”
The pain in Dennis’ eyes was naked. “Not well,” he said, his throat tight with emotion. “She took an arrow in the siege a few days ago. The physic is doing all he can for her but she weakens.”
Thomas sighed heavily, his gaze moving to the still figure on the bed. Sorrow weighed heavily upon him. “What happened?” he asked. “She should have been well protected from the battle. What in the hell happened?”
Dennis could sense pain, accusation. “She felt an obligation to the villagers who were wounded,” he said, feeling as if he had somehow failed in his duties as a husband and protector, and now he was confessing those failures to her father. “When she left the keep to help the wounded, she was struck. Trust me when I tell you that I told her to stay to the keep. I told her not to open the door and to remain safe. Her strong sense of duty forced her to disobey me.”
“Pah,” Thomas spat. “You mean that her willfulness forced her to disobey you. She has always been strong-headed and stubborn. Only she knows best; the rest of us are just idiots as far as she is concerned. She does not like to be told what to do. I warned you of this, d’Vant; did you not heed my warning?”
Dennis watched the man twitch and growl. He was angry, that was true, but he was also deeply grieved. His only child was lying wounded and the man’s frustrations were coming out. Dennis realized that.
“I did,” he replied softly. “But she did as she pleased regardless.”
“You told me once I did not know how to handle her.”
“I was wrong. Will you tell me now how you handled those particular traits?”
Thomas stopped twitching and looked at him. Seeing a twinkle of mirth in Dennis’ eyes had him fighting off a grin. He looked away, hoping Dennis wouldn’t see it.
“It was always my intention to beat her senseless, but somehow I never had the nerve,” he said, shaking his head. “I cannot believe she would put herself in such danger. Is she truly so foolish?”
Dennis had been asking himself that same question. “I do not believe so,” he said, his gaze moving back to the lump of linens and his wife buried somewhere beneath it. “Her cousin insists she was only trying to help the wounded villagers, an assertion that was supported by the soldiers I had assigned to protect her. Hopefully her compassion will not cost her.”
Thomas could hear the anguish in Dennis’ voice. He turned to look at the man, but Dennis was already moving back towards the bed where Ryan lay sleeping fitfully. The physic was there, monitoring her, but Dennis was oblivious. He only had eyes for Ryan.
Thomas walked up behind him, watching the big knight as he held Ryan’s hand gently. Clearly, this wasn’t the same man who had nearly stormed the gates of Launceston to get at her. There was something in his face that suggested the marriage was far beyond that of a contract marriage. There was emotion involved now. Even love. He had to admit that it pleased him to see such devotion. Thomas remembered long ago when he had loved someone once, too.
As Thomas gazed at his daughter, he fought off the sense of helplessness and pain. There was nothing he could do for her that was not already being done. Still, the anguish ate at him.
“May I sit with you until she wakes up?” he asked Dennis.
Dennis nodded, glancing up from Ryan. “I would welcome your company.”
“Truly?” Thomas said, with a hint of humor. It was so desperately needed at this anxious moment. “I did not ever think I would hear those words from you.”
Dennis gave him a wry grin. “Mayhap… mayhap I should apologize for the first days of our acquaintance, when I came to Launceston and assumed I knew better than you did with regards to your daughter. I did not, you know. But I think I fell in love with her even back then and would have done anything to marry her. I hope you understand that.”
Thomas accepted a three-legged stool from the pretty dark woman sewing by the hearth. He pulled it up beside the bed, his gaze moving between Dennis and Ryan.
“I understand,” he said softly. “In fact, when Ryan is out of danger and the situation has settled, you and I must speak. There are a great many things that you must understand.”
Dennis looked at him. “Like what?”
Thomas realized that even if he spoke to Dennis about the earl’s treachery, the man more than likely wouldn’t grasp the severity of the situation. Right now, his focus was on Ryan, and rightfully so.
“Later,” Thomas said. “For now, perhaps we should pray that my foolish daughter recovers so that I may yell at her for being so foolish.”
Dennis nodded, returning his attention to Ryan and murmuring those silent prayers that Thomas spoke of.
All they could do now was hope that the Lord Christ heard their prayers.
*
Near midnight, Dennis was startled out of a deep sleep.
He was still sitting next to the bed, his head next to his wife as he slept the sleep of the dead. He truly hadn’t slept in almost a week, so at the moment, he was in a deep and dreamless slumber. The physic put a cruel end to it.
“My lord,” he hissed in Dennis’ ear. “My lord, you must awaken.”
Dennis’ head shot up, his senses immediately heightened. “I am awake,” he insisted, although he was blinking his eyes and struggling to clear them. “What is it?”
The room was very dark and a full moon cast slender beams of light through the cracks in the oil cloth covering the windows. The physic’s face was ghostly pale in the light of the room.
“Your wife’s fever has worsened,” he whispered. “If we cannot relieve her fever, then she will not survive the night.”
Dennis was on his feet, looking at the physic with a horrified expression. “What can we do?”
The physic tried to remain calm because he could see that Dennis was quickly growing hysterical. It would not do to have the big and powerful husband rage out of control.
“A cool bath,” he said. “We must put her in a cool bath and hope that helps to bring her fever down.”
Dennis was already moving to the chamber door. He threw the panel open, bellowing for the servants to bring the big copper tub, a great dented thing used by three generations of d’Vants, and buckets of cool water. When the men were in motion, Dennis returned to the physic. He was so tense that the veins on his neck were bulging.
“What else can we do?” he demanded. “Surely there is medicine you can give her.”
“I have already given her what medicine I can to break her fever,” he said. “It is a willow bark brew. Wake her now and I can give her more.”
Dennis raced back over to the bed where Ryan was tangled up in the linens. She was sleeping fitfully, tossing and turning. Gently, he unwound her legs, her arms. She was scorching to the touch.
“Ryan?” he murmured. “Ryan, love, can you hear me? Wake up now. The physic must give you some medicine.”
Ryan groaned and stirred. Meanwhile, Patrizia had heard the shouting and had come into the room to see if she could help. Dennis glanced at the woman before returning his attention to Ryan.
“Ryan, my love, can you hear me?” he said, kissing her cheek and rubbing her left arm gently. “Wake up now.”
Ryan, becoming more lucid, thought they were waking her up for another wound cleansing and she immediately began to weep.
“Please,” she sobbed. “Please no more. Leave me alone.”
Dennis soothed her, feeling so saddened for her pain and suffering. “The physic wants to give you something to ease your fever,” he said gently. “You must drink it.”
Ryan wasn’t particularly clear-headed;
everything was muddled and her head hurt tremendously. She had been in horrible pain for years and years. Or had it only been days? She had no concept of time. Her entire world was pain and torture, with Dennis at the head of it. Every time he woke her, they did something terribly painful to her. She tried to push herself away from him.
“Nay,” she wept. “No more. I will not let you do it to me anymore. Please let me die.”
Dennis was stricken. “I will not let you die,” he snapped softly. “Do you understand me? I will not let you die!”
Ryan’s head lolled back and she gazed up at him, her amber eyes red and swollen and overflowing. She was pure misery.
“Please,” she begged. “I cannot do this any longer. I want to die. I would be forever grateful, Dennis. Please… just let me go.”
Dennis stared at her. Then, the tears started to come and he pulled her against him fiercely, listening to her gasp with pain as he jostled her wound.
“I will not let you die,” he said, his voice cracking. “You are my life, Ryan de Bretagne d’Vant, and I will never let you go. Do you understand me? I love you more than anything on earth and the day you die, my heart and soul go with you. I love you.”
Ryan was strangely silent against his shoulder, her face in the crook of his neck. She was muddled, that was true, but not so muddled that she didn’t hear the gist of his words. Like a candle being lit, she could feel the warmth of his words igniting something deep inside her. Those three little words meant everything to her. They fortified her weak body and aching soul in ways she could not begin to describe.
“I love you also,” she whispered. “I cannot remember when I have not loved you, Dennis. Surely you have sensed this.”
Dennis squeezed his eyes tight at the impact of her words. It brought all of the emotion he was feeling surging out of him, and he burst into quiet tears. He was despondent and exhilarated at the same time. It was too much for him to take.
“You must live,” he whispered. “Do you hear me? You must live.”
Ryan fell silent, crushed up against his chest. Meanwhile, the servants had brought forth the old copper tub and they had a chain gang going to fill it up with buckets of water. The physic oversaw the temperature of the tub while Charlotte, awakened by the sounds of shouting servants, oversaw the filling process. When the servants didn’t move fast enough, she would smack them on the back to motivate them. Even Thomas and Douglas had been awakened by servants running about in the outer bailey, filling up buckets from the well. They had followed the chaos into the keep, understanding that something was happening with Ryan. Standing by the open chamber door, they watched it all unfold.
But Dennis wasn’t aware of the audience he had attracted. All he cared about was his wife, of easing her fever. Dear God, if he could have willed his own life force into her, he would have gladly done so. He held her tightly, rocking her as the tub was filled and water was splashed about on the floor. He became aware that she was quite limp in his arms and he eased his grip, looking her in the face and realizing that at some point she had fainted. She was completely unresponsive. As he gazed at her face, feeling unmitigated anguish, the physic approached and put his hand on her forehead.
“She is burning up,” he muttered the obvious. “Get her into the water, my lord. Do it now.”
Dennis didn’t hesitate. He got into the tub, clothes and all, and held her down in the water. The water was cool, cooler still as the minute passed by, until eventually Ryan was shivering even in her unconscious state. But still, Dennis continued to bathe her, wiping her face with a wet cloth and singing softly in her ear as a father would sing to a sick child. He wasn’t sure if she was going to live or die, but if in fact she died, he wanted his voice to be the last thing she ever heard in this world. If she went, he wanted her to take the last memory of him with her.
It was the most pathetic thing any of them had ever seen. Patrizia, Charlotte, Thomas, Douglas, and eventually Clive joined the vigil, watching Dennis sing his deep, off-tune baritone as Ryan lay motionless against him in the big copper tub. Oppressive sorrow and tragedy filled the chamber as the woman lay dying in the arms of the man who loved her.
Eventually, Douglas left the little group, leaving Thomas standing there with tears in his eyes as he was sure he was watching his daughter breathe her last. Even Charlotte was misty-eyed, so very sorry for her brother that his marriage, and a happy one, had come to such tragedy. In the end, she took a seat next to Patrizia, waiting and watching like the rest of them to see how it all unfolded.
When the water grew too cold, Dennis climbed out with Ryan limp and unconscious in his arms. Patrizia and the physic were there, wrapping a big linen coverlet around them to dry them both off somewhat. Dennis, too distraught and exhausted to think clearly, climbed back into bed with Ryan in his arms, positive that it would be the last night he would ever be able to do so. He was struggling to resign himself to that fact.
With Ryan wrapped up tightly in his arms, Dennis began to sing softly to her again. Five minutes hadn’t passed before he was dead asleep against her.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The rats were as big as small ponies in this wretched place. Riston watched a family of rodents dance across the floor of his cell, sniffing at his feet until he kicked at him. And then they tried to bite him, bold little bastards. So he stomped on the tail of one, listening to it scream and knowing they would probably stay away for a while. But then they would be back again in greater numbers, this time probably to eat his face off as he slept.
He sighed, looking around his new home. It was cramped, smelling strongly of urine and feces and rot. Water dripped down one of the walls and a legion of moss cascaded to the floor. It was a terrible place to spend the rest of one’s life, he thought bleakly, and wondered seriously how much more life he had to live. The longer he sat, watched and waited, the greater his anxiety grew. He tried not to let his imagination run wild, but it was a difficult struggle.
The door to the cell was an iron grate. Every so often, a soldier would stroll past, smirk at him, and leave. At first, Riston had engaged the guards in a snarling game, but now he simply ignored them. The last check had been over a half-hour ago and Riston hardly cared any more. As he sat there, pondering his future or lack thereof, a cloaked figure suddenly appeared at the grate.
“Riston!”
Lyla’s green eyes fixed on him. Riston leapt up, nearly knocking himself silly when he hit his head on the roof of the vault. “Lyla,” he went to her, rubbing his skull. “What are you doing here?”
She reached out to touch him and he grasped her hand, kissing it. Her cheeks pinkened dramatically. “I heard what happened. I am here to get you out!”
He shook his head. “You shall only doom yourself, honey. Go back now, before they see you.”
She held up her left hand, which had been concealed within the folds of the cloak. A great iron key gleamed dully in the weak torchlight. “I bashed the guard on the head to get this and I am not leaving without you.”
Riston stared at the key. “Christ, Lyla, you have no idea what you are….”
“Quiet!” she snapped softly, inserting the key into the lock. She twisted it, but lacking the strength to open it completely, Riston had to help her. The lock was open in little time and the iron grate groaned as Riston pushed it outward.
“Come on!” Lyla grabbed him by the hand.
The vault of Launceston was small. The guard with the bruised head was just coming around as Lyla and Riston found him. Muttering an apology, Riston bashed the man again and proceeded to strip him of his clothing and armor. As Lyla kept watch of the narrow stairs leading to the gatehouse above, Riston switched clothing and put the Launceston soldier back in his own cell, turning his face toward the wall to make it appear that Riston was still there, sleeping. Locking the cell, he donned the man’s too-small helm, hoping it would be enough to cover his identity.
“We cannot be seen together,” he told Lyla. “You go ahea
d and make sure you are not seen. I can get out from here.”
She shook her head stubbornly, her red curls peeping out from beneath her hood. “I paid a groom to ready my mount. There’s a gate near the stables that we can leave from, but I must take the lead.”
She was taking an awful chance and Riston did not want her taking such terrible risks on his behalf. “Honey, you must not…”
“Quiet!” she snapped at him again. “Listen to me; I shall collect my mount if you can make it to the exit near the stables. Stay out of sight and wait for me. Once I am through the exit, we shall ride back to St. Austell.”
He frowned. “How much sense does it make for you to be taking a leisurely ride at midnight? Don’t you think someone will suspect something, or at least try to stop you?”
Lyla would not be deterred, and Riston saw a good deal of Ryan in her manner. “As I said, I paid a groom to keep silent. He’s to wait for me in the shadows. I know the risks and do not need you to point them out to me.”
Riston did not like the plan at all. But it was the only one they had and he would be damned if he was going to refuse her help simply to rot away in that stinky cell. So he agreed, but not before planting a kiss on her forehead for luck. Lyla grabbed him around the neck and pecked him soundly on the lips. With a grin and furious blush, she dashed up the steep stairs into the gatehouse. Riston, fighting a grin himself, hung back for a minute or so before following.
Launceston wasn’t very busy this time of night. It was a relatively simple thing for Riston to make his way across the ward and into the stable yard. Being so dark, it was difficult to see his face and, being in a Launceston tunic, there wasn’t anyone to give him a second glance. Passing along the row of stalls, he eventually came to the small iron gate, which was cut into the great circular wall of Launceston. Passing through the cold, dark tunnel, he emerged into icy freedom on the other side. He hadn’t taken three steps when the sounds of hooves closed in on him.