Conquered with Love

PROLOGUE

England 1066

Nelda's life had been a struggle frequently plagued with strife. She managed to survive, however, despite the horror, violence, and suffering tyrannized against her family. Never having ventured beyond the borders of the fiefdom, she and her husband, Frewin, had raised their daughter, Leoma, to near adulthood, hoping some good peasant farmer would take her for his wife. It was not to happen though. Fate had other plans for Leoma.

With her thoughts roaming back in time, sixty-year-old Nelda, feeling warm and comfortable before the crackling fire on the grate, closed her eyes to relive the memories that seemed to come more often now. The visions inside her head of that terrible event back in 1049 that destroyed her family were as vivid now as they had been then on that horrible day. She recalled Leoma's birthday....

* * *

Leoma celebrated her fifteenth year just weeks previously and was like a ray of sunshine experiencing and enjoying the beauty of nature all around her. She was happy, her even white teeth sparkling behind her enchanting smile. For her, every day presented some wonderful new discovery to explore.

That unforgettable day began as a crisp, clear morning, slightly chilly until the sun climbed overhead and beamed down its heat on the freshly plowed fields following a long cold winter. The peasants worked in the fields, each tilling his allocated tract of land, getting the soil ready for the planting of oats, barley and peas, which half went to paying rents. It left just enough for the peasants to survive on until the winter crop of wheat or rye could be harvested. The cycle was as inevitable as the seasons, as was Lord Raybourne's frequent trips throughout the fief to inspect the progress of the planting or harvesting.

From the saddle of his great stallion, Lord Raybourne of Valdenwald spied Leoma in the field serving cool water to her father. Pausing to take a longer look at that golden red mane and at the swelling young breasts that pushed against the fabric of her simple woolen tunic, he experienced an overwhelming pang of sexual longing for that young maid.

When Lord Raybourne approached, Leoma sent him a sweet smile waxed with the tenderness of youth. She gave her father another drink of the refreshing water, and then turned to offer Lord Raybourne a drink. He gladly took the flask she raised to his outstretched hand and drank deeply before giving it back to her.

This is the best drink of water I've had, he said jovially, a slow smile playing around the corners of his mouth as his eyes traveled the length of Leoma's person from head to toe.

Leoma smiled, bid farewell to her father and Lord Raybourne, skipping away. She intended to visit her little animal friends in the forest and practice her whistling imitations of the birds.

Frewin and Raybourne stood watching Leoma skip across the field toward the forest. Then the black stallion snorted as Lord Raybourne turned its dark head toward the cottage, moving on past and down to the gurgling brook that cut a path across the front of the forest. Leoma's bright curls shone in the sunlight.

Alarm shot through Frewin in a horrifying instant when he saw Lord Raybourne lean to the far right, reaching out his long arm to swoop Leoma up on the saddle in front of him. Frewin saw Leoma's frightened face briefly turn toward him and appearing to cry out for help just before the great stallion galloped away. Even from that distance, he saw her smile wan sickly in a face frozen with fear.

Frewin ran to his cottage and anxiously told his wife Nelda what had happened. The two of them were devastated, knowing they could do nothing to help Leoma.

The next morning the door burst open, and there stood Leoma, a frightened child, her eyes red from crying, tears streaking down her cheeks, bruises on her arms, her hair tousled with tangles, her clothing wrinkled, soiled, and ripped. I ran away from him, she whispered in a raspy sounding voice moist with tears.

The pounding of a horse's hooves shattered the reunion, causing Leoma's parents to rush to the door to see who was tearing up the soil to get to their door.

Upon seeing the great black stallion approaching, Frewin grabbed up his axe and went out the door to meet his enemy. Damn you eternally, he shouted as Raybourne's horse stopped next to where Frewin stood.

Frewin raised his axe high over his head and slashed downward toward Raybourne's thigh. The horse whinnied, backed away, and then reared on its hind legs out of the path of the axe.

Seeing what Frewin intended, Lord Raybourne slid his sword from its scabbard. Without a word, he slashed down his opponent with one mighty swing of the sword, slicing open Frewin's shoulder to the bone. Seeing Frewin still lived, he swung his sword once again, this time beheading the man. The severed head sat in place a couple of seconds, the eyes stretched large in shock, and then it tilted and rolled off Frewin's shoulder. As it fell to the ground, Frewin's legs buckled, and he went down in such a position that one of his arms draped around his severed head.

Bury your husband, and then send Leoma back to me, Raybourne commanded Nelda, who stood frozen in shock at the door, before he turned his horse's head toward the castle.

Against her will, Leoma became Raybourne's mistress. When she attempted to kill herself, Raybourne commissioned Nelda to come live with Leoma in a cottage on the castle grounds. He charged Nelda with the responsibility of keeping the red-haired maid safe so she might produce for him a son, which his wife, Lady Chelsea, had failed to do. Nine months later, Leoma died giving birth to Edreia.

Soon after, Raybourne left the castle with a group of his soldiers, returning after many weeks with a young boy who looked terribly lost and frightened. The little boy, known only as Pitney, grew into a young lad with all the privileges a paternal son might enjoy. The boy became Raybourne's pride and joy, but oddly, his daughter Edreia was the one who enthralled him. He frequently visited the cottage to enjoy her baby antics and happy smiles, aware of her growing resemblance to Leoma.

With authority, he dictated the remaining course of Nelda's life with the command, Edreia must be cared for. You will protect her with your life, old woman.

CHAPTER ONE

For the next sixteen years, the small cottage where Leoma gave birth to Edreia and died served as Edreia and Grandmother Nelda's humble home.

Over the years, Nelda taught Edreia all she knew about herbals, spices and the potions used for relieving or curing various ailments. Young Edreia, working as her grandmother's assistant, absorbed everything she witnessed and participated in, reminding Nelda of Leoma's curiosity and eagerness for learning.

Nelda taught Edreia how to brew teas from specific herbals; how to mix potions to create elixirs and tonics for colds, flu, insomnia, diarrhea, and constipation; how to mix the boiled down liquids from herbals with fats to create salves for cuts, abrasions, and burns.

When Edreia was ten and making use of her ability to read and write, a skill learned from the tutor Raybourne generously provided, she began recording the medical recipes on vellum. She created diaries of information on all Nelda taught her, thus, adding her own comments from observations of the reactions of patients to a particular potion or medicine,

Edreia and Grandmother Nelda drew renowned recognition as healers, a duty that rightfully belonged to Lady Chelsea; however, not once had Lady Chelsea offered such service to anyone.

As a child, Edreia recalled clinging to her grandmother's hand as they trod the well-worn path from the castle to the village and the outlying cottages at all times of day or night. When the sentries grew irascible from frequently having to raise the portcullis, which was the only entrance to and from the castle courtyard, Nelda devised another way in and out of the castle grounds.

An extremely thick and tall stone fence surrounded the spacious courtyard boundaries and appeared sturdy enough to keep out an army. Nelda, with Edreia always at her heels to discover something new, walked a path alongside the great wall of stone nearest to the cottage. Now and again, Nelda bent and touched a stone, worked it with her hands, and then strolled on, attempting the same procedure in another location. Soon, she touched a large stone, felt the slight movement beneath her hand, nodded her head, and went to work.

Her task was not easy. It would require much effort on a daily basis in order to accomplish her goal. Thus, working the stone and using a solid stick to her advantage to loosen it, ultimately Nelda was able to pry the stone from its lodging.

She worked to loosen other stones until she created a large enough opening just big enough for her and Edreia to squeeze through. In time, a deeply trod path snaked down from the castle and across the rolling meadow that intersected the distant village and out-cropping of cottages sprinkled over the vast acres of farmland.

The hole in the wall of stone also provided a place of entry to the peasants, enabling communication between them and Nelda.

Eventually, the old woman became too feeble to make the long walk to and from the peasant's cottages. In Nelda's stead, Edreia became the medicine woman, carrying on Nelda's work with the knowledge and fortitude gained from years of instruction from her dear grandmother.

* * *

On this cold January morning, Nelda, with her eternally stooped back, sat in her chair before the blazing hearth. Edreia joined her grandmother, hovering close to the dancing flames while randomly dipping a cloth in warm water in the aquamanile, a pan used for hand washing. For her bath, she rubbed the wet cloth over her body. Afterwards, she dressed in an under-tunic, a kirtle, and a warm woolen cloak. Finished, she lifted the aquamanile and stepped outdoors to dash out the water.

Good morning, she said to her old friend Geoff who housed himself on such cold mornings in the little lean-to next to the door from where he guarded the cottage. A brazier of red coals put off substantial heat where he hovered close to it.

Good morning, milady Edreia. A cold morning we are ‘aving.

So it is, Geoff, she replied cordially, handing him a cup of warm mead before stepping farther away from the cottage to dash out her bath water.

He wrapped his gloved hands about the warm bowl-shaped container, Ahh, milady, ‘tis a kind soul you have." He raised the cup of mead to his mouth and drank thirstily.

Taking a deep breath of the cold invigorating fresh air, Edreia observed the grayness of dawn staring back at her. Although the sun was not up entirely, she knew it would be a sunny day because of the pink, blue, and tangerine clouds lying low upon the horizon. Her gaze panned across the land, the fields, and the little village nestled far below where small cottages spread to outlying farms and dotted the landscape for miles around.

The village nested in a pod on either side of the packed dirt road, its sun-bleached thatched roofs looking unusually white in the morning frost. Near the far edge of the village, there stood the church and a little house for the parish priest. There was a mill, the community oven where the peasants baked bread, a blacksmith’s shop, a shoemaker, weavers, and other skilled artisans.

Shivering, Edreia wrapped her slender arms across her chest and went back inside the cottage. She cooked up the morning porridge, serving it with warm mead made in advance by boiling honey and ginger in water and adding yeast to ferment it. She and Nelda were nearly finished with their meal when a knock on the door startled them.

Edreia stood up from the little table where she and Nelda breakfasted and went to the door.

Geoff stood next to a young girl who was shivering from the cold. Her face and nose were ruddy red, and her breath shot out in white steam every time she exhaled.

Who is it, child? Nelda called.

Tis’ Blythe, grandmother, Edreia replied. Then to Blythe, Come in. Whatever made you come out on a morning as cold as this one?

Blythe scooted inside and went to the hearth where she turned her backside to the flame and crackling embers. She clasped her hands behind her. Tis’ Hwitford, Edreia. Me Mum fears he will die. He can’t breathe well and she begs you come help him.

Edreia poured a bowl of warm mead and placed it in Blythe’s icy hands. She sipped thirstily at the warm brew that took off the chill.

You must not go alone, child, Nelda warned, ever afraid for Edreia because of Chelsea’s bitter anger over her husband Raybourne’s delight for his beautiful red-haired daughter.

Edreia nodded. I know, grandmother. I’ll just send word to Pitney that Geoff will escort me to Blythe’s cottage. I miss the times when you and I crawled through the hole in the stone wall and went where we were needed without reporting our movements.

Those days are past, child. So long as Lady Chelsea lives, you will never be safe. She carries her hate for you like a disease. Pitney warns that you must not venture from the cottage without an escort.

Edreia stepped out doors where she spoke to Geoff who warmed his hands above the brazier in the lean-to. Tell Pitney I’m needed in the village, and wish you to give me escort, Geoff.

Aye, my lady, he said and hurried toward the stables where he would find a page or messenger to locate Pitney while grooms saddled the animals.

Shivering, Edreia scrunched up her arms and shoulders going back inside to put on a heavy wool cloak and select the medicines to carry with her.

CHAPTER TWO

Geoff was back sooner than Edreia expected, announcing that Pitney would escort her.

She depended a great deal upon Pitney in Raybourne’s absence. He was a mountain of a man who could put the fear of the devil in the heart of any man. He spoke very little, gave even fewer orders or commands, but at the sound of his bellow, all who heard, cowered in fear.

Edreia was certain Pitney's face was what frightened people. Bludgeoned into a nearly inhuman mass of scarred tissue on one side, it barely resembled a face. In profile from his right side, he looked completely normal and extremely handsome, but on the left side, the scarred and disfigured flesh gave him a monstrous appearance.

Going outside with Blythe, Edreia noticed a light wind whipping up and whistling past her face, turning her cold nose ruddy rose. She heard horses’ hooves just before Pitney’s giant and compelling form appeared on Satan, his black stallion. Sitting astride the beautiful, graceful animal Pitney’s powerful frame was a commanding sight.

He led a young mare behind him for Edreia.

Edreia, is all well with you? he inquired, his words issuing from the unscarred side of his mouth, while on the opposite side the skin stretched too tight over a scarred mass of tissue to accommodate clear speech. His crooked nose crisscrossed with white scars that were indicative of deadly blows that mangled one side of his face into bloody pulp.

Edreia held her head far back on her shoulders to see Pitney’s face. She gazed up at him and her sunshiny smile drew a twisted grimace from Pitney’s lips that barely resembled a happy expression.

I am well, Pitney. Grandmother seems to be ailing slightly though. She is too quiet and thoughtful as if something bothers her. I worry about her lately.

With her sheepskin bag of medicines, Edreia accepted Geoff’s cupped hands for her foot while she mounted the mare’s back. Then she pulled Blythe up behind her.

Nelda is aging, Edreia. It's a sad thing, but you won’t have her always. He tapped his heels to Satan, and Edreia urged the mare up alongside him.

I have thought about that lately and know that nothing will be the same then. I don’t know what I’ll do when she leaves me.

It's not good to think too far ahead. It's’ better to enjoy the moment at hand.

Edreia, please, Blythe whispered over Edreia’s shoulder, can’t we hurry? Every minute takes my brother closer to the grave.

Edreia nudged the mare into a rhythmic gallop, and Pitney’s Satan took the lead.

Satan was as black as night, and except for Raybourne’s solid white steed, was one of the most magnificent animals at Valdenwald. Horse and master became one when they cut a dusty trail together, and a mightier sight was yet to be seen as man and beast raced across the fields, whether for sport, or in pursuit of beast or foe.

Jousting tournaments, frequently held for entertainment and physical training, had yet to produce an opponent who could outmatch Pitney’s skill. Not once had he been unseated from his steed, or his lance broken in any match, which was the object of the game.

The three came to the village and traveled a mile farther to the cottage where young Hwitford lay struggling to breathe. Edreia, Blythe, and Pitney rushed inside to find a frantic mother hovering over her child.

Pitney found a bench near the hearth, getting comfortable for the duration of his wait.

Edreia hurried to the cot where Hwitford lay, touched his forehead, placed an ear to his chest. She took her medicines from the sheepskin bag.

Clogged full of congestion, the young lad was unable to cough up the putrefaction blocking his breathing. Edreia had seen children and adults die when their lungs filled up with the nasty green phlegm.

Lifting Hwitford’s head in her arm, she gave him a generous swallow of elixir. Then propping pillows beneath his back and head, she raised him to a near sitting position. At Edreia’s request, Hwitford’s mother brought hot water in pipkins, which were earthenware pots. She dropped in several eucalyptus wood chips and leaves before wrapping them in cloth and then carefully setting beneath a contrived bedding tent. The moist steam slowly eased the boys breathing. When the oil of the eucalyptus leaves and chips permeated the water, its menthol aroma soon had Hwitford taking deeper breaths. The elixir eased the boy’s anxiousness and he dozed off to sleep.

About an hour later, the young lad came awake coughing and spitting up green phlegm into the container his mother held for him. Edreia gave him another drink of the elixir, and watched as he fell again into restful sleep.

Edreia advised the boy’s mother to keep steaming water, with generous amounts of eucalyptus leaves and chips added, beneath the bed-tent throughout the day and night. She gave the anxious woman a phial of elixir and suggested how often to use it.

By tomorrow, he should be feeling better. Edreia informed the mother soothingly as she and Pitney were leaving.

CHAPTER TWO

Soon after Pitney and Edreia left the cottage, Satan began limping on a hind leg. Pitney pulled back the reins, bringing the animal to a halt.

Edreia drew her mare up alongside him, watching.

He slid down from the animals back and patted Satan’s long neck, talking to him like an adored child. He went around and lifted the animal’s leg, finding a stone lodged in the underside of the hoof. Pitney tried to dislodge it, but it was wedged too deep.

I’ll have to walk, he remarked, patting the horse gently. The blacksmith in the village will be able to remove it.

Edreia climbed off her horse and they set out walking briskly across the winter-crisped straw of the meadow, the cold air pressing against their faces, burning their eyes, cheeks and noses. It seemed colder now than Edreia first thought, but both she and Pitney found the brisk air refreshing.

The sun moved higher above the trees and the landscape became washed in yellow light, a sure sign that the icy temperature would soon turn warmer.

It's a fine thing to be able to help those who need you’, Pitney commented, watching Edreia’s agile fingers twist a piece of straw between her teeth, while her private thoughts claimed her attention.

She glanced up and looked about as if coming out of a sleep. I am glad I can help when folks need me, but the credit goes to Grandma for teaching me. She and I have made many trips down that hill from the castle to attend folks who needed us. Everything I know I learned from her.

You were a good student, Edreia. The peasants are lucky to have your help.

Just as I am lucky to have grandmother, she replied. She has been feeling terribly tired lately and seems to have aged considerably. I do worry about her. It frightens me that she will eventually leave me all alone.

You won’t be alone. You will still have me. Have you never wondered that we might be kin?

I have heard rumors to that effect. When I look at you though, I see nothing that resembles me, nor vice versa. Perhaps at one time before… she stopped, halting the words her wanton tongue sought to say.

Before my face was disfigured? He watched her closely. They both stopped a second, the horses' reins dangling in their hands while the animals nibbled at the dried straw.

I’m sorry, Pitney. I didn't mean to say that. It just came out. She hung her head, shamed by the audacity of her bold tongue. Still, it has crossed my mind how much the disfigurement of your face must affect your life.

Suddenly he laughed a deep rumbling sound filled with mirth.

Edreia looked up at him sharply. Why are you laughing? I wasn’t making a joke.

Pitney grinned. I laugh at your boldness of tongue, Edreia, and at your anxious curiosity that never ceases. You have been asking impertinent questions since you were a wee girl just learned to talk, he chuckled.

Edreia sent him a cat and mouse glance. I suppose I do step on my tongue now and again, she replied petulantly.

Pitney smiled, nodding his head in agreement, as they started walking again. My disfigured face is a matter I had no choice but accept. Anyone who lives long enough will learn there are hardships that must be borne when they can't be overcome.

She expelled a long sigh. Yes, I suppose so. You are braver than me, my brother.

He turned and looked at her with tenderness. You have never called me that before.

Nay, I haven’t, but you've acknowledged that we might be kin. I have dared think we are even though grandmother swears Raybourne wanted a son so badly that he stole you from your real parents. Then, there is the other possibility…

Pitney grinned again. You think I might be the bastard son birthed by his mistress?

Well, yes, but I wasn’t going to say it.

Pitney grinned from the good side of his lips. Why not? You seem to have voice for everything else that crosses your mind. One brow rose higher than the other one, and he sent her a cynical side-glance with a grin.

Edreia saw his teasing look and returned a pouting stare. Grandmother said that if people don’t talk, they can’t communicate, she stated querulously.

Pitney chuckled. Well, you can tell her for me, you will never have a problem with communicating.

Huh, she snorted. Since you think me so bold of tongue, I might as well satisfy my curiosity. I've always wondered if father has ever acknowledged you as his son.

Nay, not by word, but the fact he sent me to train under another nobleman until I was knighted is a deed done by fathers.

Has he ever mentioned the topic of your birth, or how he came to be in charge of your care when you were a child?

Nay, to my regret, Raybourne has never discussed the matter with me. He treats me as a son and stranger at once. He is not a man one can easily approach on a personal level. I was a small boy when he brought me here, and can only recall snatches of memory before then. I am able to visualize faces, even recall names, but they mean nothing to me.

Oh, and what names do you recall? she asked with interest.

The one that sticks in my mind is Mikkel. But when I put a face with the name, it becomes my face when I was a child.

Maybe it was you. Perhaps that is your true name.

Nay, I was called Gunnolf. I recall the name well, but barely remember when my name became Pitney after my arrival here at Valdenwald. It is my understanding that Gunnolf is a Norman name. I believe my origins probably began in France, but Raybourne is completely tight lipped about my birthplace.

That explains why you are able to speak French. When you were teaching me to speak the language, I often wondered where you gained the ability.

Yes, I too have wondered.

You could ask Swain about your birthplace. Grandmother said he rode with father on the day they brought you to the castle. She remembers the day well because it was soon after I was born. Swain would know providing his memory serves him at such an old age, unless father has sworn him to secrecy on the matter.

"I have spoken with him. He has even told me a story about a voyage he took with my father across the channel to yonder shores of France on a stormy night not fit for man or beast, when all but he and Raybourne hovered close beneath shelter.

That same night I fell under Raybourne’s care. I remember water, and oars cutting through the water—but I was so frightened my mind became a complete blank. Memories seemed to dissolve and fade.

Perhaps you were kidnapped. Grandmother said father hoped I would be a boy, and when he learned I was a girl, he went away and returned with you.

I’m inclined to believe that is possible, but as you say, perhaps only Swain and father know the truth of why I came to be here at Valdenwald.

You are lucky that Lady Chelsea didn’t turn her jealousy and vengeance upon you. She hates anyone whose affections stand between her and Raybourne.

She tired. I recall very well her sharp tongue after my arrival here, but the servants shielded me from her. The woman is truly mad. Nothing pleases her, and she has so many gripes her disposition is unbearable. He reached over and grabbed her hand and they stopped a moment. Edreia, you must be on constant guard. Her anger and bitterness toward you has spiraled. The servants report that she frequently voices epithets against you.

Edreia reached over and grasped his large hand, swinging it as they walked. Why does she hate me so much? I have never done anything against her. Do you think she’s ever been happy?

He shook his head. It isn't her nature to be happy. She's more at home with fault-finding and complaints against everyone she knows.

I don't understand how Lady Chelsea can choose to be so miserable. Grandmother says life is a journey we have little control over, but I don’t want to believe that. I prefer to think we all have the will power to be as happy as we choose to be.

Pitney was thoughtful, his beautiful gray eyes seeming to blur and retreat deep inside himself. "Edreia, I suppose much of life is a state of mind. I stopped seeking anything beyond the moment at hand on the day I looked in the mirror and saw this face. I knew a maiden as beautiful and fair as any maiden I have ever known. I loved her at first sight, and she felt the same for me. We were sure nothing could ever separate us. Then, in a matter of minutes, the closeness we nurtured was destroyed.

I was still a young lad with greater mental determination than physical strength. A man whose proposal she rejected ruthlessly insulted her, and I felt compelled to defend her honor. I would do it again if I had to, but at the time, I could not know how it would affect the rest of my life. She was unable to look at my face afterwards after the man bludgeoned it. He destroyed my dreams.

That may be so, dear Pitney, but you still know how to smile and treat folks with warmth and cordiality, Edreia stated gently.

* * *

That evening Edreia stepped outside to dash a basin of dishwater out. When she started back inside, her gaze drew toward a moving light in the sky. The light resembled a shooting star, except it had a long tail of light behind it.

Grandmother, come and look, Edreia called after opening the door a crack so her grandmother could hear her. There’s a strange light in the sky!

Nelda, jarred by the urgency in Edreia’s voice, laboriously pushed herself up from her chair. She hobbled on wobbly legs to the door. A cold blast of air rushed at her as she pulled it open and peered toward the winter sky where Edreia pointed. She sighted the unusual light, and watched it. Her nerves coiled with rising fear.

Tis’ an omen! she muttered feverishly. An omen, I say. Something is going to happen. Mark my word, something is going to happen.

Without another word, she turned and went back inside. Lowering herself to her chair she began praying silently, her shoulders, neck, and head so bent there was no need to attempt to bend her head further in prayer. She had been waiting for such a sign, dreading it; yet, looking forward to it. She was old, bent, and tired and was ready for her eternal sleep. If only her beloved granddaughter would be safe. Who would look after her? Who would see that she was safe from Lady Chelsea who doubtlessly wanted Edreia dead?

The strange shooting star must be an omen. What else could it be?

Halley’s Comet (which officially would be discovered in 1682, by English astronomer Edmond Halley) had just streaked through the atmosphere.

Before Nelda went to bed that night, she held Edreia’s hands a long time, eventually pulling her granddaughter’s head against her chest and hugging her as they sat on the edge of the bed. Edreia, it is time we talk, my child.

Edreia chuckled, not realizing the seriousness of Nelda’s remark. Grandmother, I’ve been talking all evening, but you don’t seem to pay any attention.

Tis’ much on my mind right now, child. I’m an old woman, and while I’d like to spend eternity with you, I know this old body of mine cannot last much longer. She pulled her wrap about her against the wintery chill in the room.

Edreia’s face twisted in pain. Grandmother, please don’t talk like that. I can’t bear thinking of you not being with me. Pools of moisture formed in her brilliant blue eyes.

Nelda gave her a weak shake. Child, you must listen to me, and listen carefully. When I leave you, and it cannot be far off, you will no longer be safe. Lady Chelsea will stop at nothing to destroy you.

Pitney will protect me, Grandmother. There is father, also. He would never let anything happen to me.

Think, Edreia! she snapped, raising her voice. "Your father is in London a great deal of the time. He cannot protect you when he is away. If there is an invasion as is threatened, every able-bodied man in the king’s realm will bear arms against the invaders, and your father will be amongst them.

God forbid, but if the Anglo Saxons are beaten, not only will you have Lady Chelsea to fear; there will be the Norman curs that will swarm across the land to claim everything that will put wealth into their pockets. They will rape and abuse maids at their leisure. You will be at their mercy.

The pools in Edreia’s eyes turned loose and rolled across her lower lashes, forming tiny moist paths down her cheeks. She tightened her arms around her grandmother. What will I do, Grandmother, without you?

Stop that crying, child! There will be no time for tears when threat hangs over your head. The peasants know and love you. They are your only hope. You must do as I tell you. You’ll cut your hair, dress like a boy, and seek shelter with one of the peasant families. She unwound Edreia's arms from around her and reached beneath the bed to lift a stack of folded clothing.

Madra brought me some of her son’s clothing, which I requested. Bartram is a little larger than you are, but when the time comes, these should fit you nicely. Put them beneath your bed so they will be handy for your use.

Edreia glanced down at her voluptuous breasts. She had been ashamed of them forever, or so it seemed, having developed early for her age. In the wintertime, she could easily hide them behind her heavy cloak, but the summer heat disallowed such concealing clothing, and her breasts pushed out her outer tunic despite everything she did to flatten them.

Nelda saw where she looked. That is a problem, she admitted doubtfully.

Grandmother, maybe we shouldn’t worry about this. Father should be home soon, and maybe there won’t be an invasion.

Edreia, don’t close your eyes to possibilities. You must prepare yourself, child. Remember what I told you. What others do to us mold our lives more than what we do to ourselves. To be put on the opposition is one thing, but ‘tis quite another not to prepare a defense when forewarned.

Edreia nodded her head and kissed her grandmother’s wrinkled cheek. I will remember your words and obey when the need arises, she agreed.

Saddened by such fatalistic talk, her heavy heart silently screamed, you can't leave me, Grandmother. Please don't leave me.

CHAPTER FOUR

Edreia woke early, glancing toward her grandmother. Upon seeing Nelda still asleep, she dressed and made her bed. The fire on the hearth had burned down to gray ash, leaving the room bitterly cold. Wanting it warm for her grandmother when she got up, Edreia scooped the ashes up into a pan and took them outside where she greeted her old friend Geoff.

Going back inside, she thought she saw a movement from the bed. Grandmother, I didn’t mean to wake you. Just go back to sleep and I’ll build a fire on the grate to keep you warm. Adding tinder wood and more logs, a warm flame soon blazed.

She heated the mead, pouring a cup for Geoff and herself. She handed Geoff’s out the door to him. Then she sat sipping from her cup while she waited for Nelda to wake so she could make breakfast.

She sat at the small table with its two chairs, lifting a foot-long stick used to keep track of how many days her father was gone. Everyday, she carved a little notch in the stick. Today would make the sixteenth day since he left to serve on the Witan Council, an advisory board to the king.

Sometimes she was sure her grandmother would be just as glad if her father never returned to the castle. No humility existed in Nelda’s manner toward him, and there was rarely an exchange of conversation between them. To Edreia’s knowledge, her grandmother spoke to Raybourne only when the occasion demanded it.

Edreia had asked her grandmother many times, if she disliked Raybourne, or if Raybourne did something to anger her. Stop meddling, Nelda ordered.

She kept wondering what secrets her grandmother held close to her breast. Surely, there must be someone in the castle, or in the village, who knew the story of her mother and Raybourne and why her grandmother hated him.

She finished her warm mead and set her cup down. Glancing toward the bed, she saw Nelda had not moved at all. She slept on her side with her hands folded beneath her cheek, her legs all drawn up at the knees.

Edreia was glad she slept. She needed it after not sleeping well the night before. Deciding to let her sleep awhile longer before rousing her for breakfast, Edreia refreshed her cup with more warm mead, and reached out the door to refill Geoff’s cup.

She moved over to Nelda’s chair by the fire, and sat dozing when a knock on the door startled her. Jerking awake, she rose and went to see who it was, suspecting it would be someone needing one of the sickness remedies. They often came from their homes or the village seeking her help.

She pulled the door open, and motioned Amelia and her daughter Holly inside. Quickly, she shoved the door closed behind them against the early morning blast of cold air.

Nelda is still sleeping? Amelia inquired in a quiet voice. I’ve never known her to sleep so late.

Aye, she didn’t sleep well night before last. I suppose she’s catching up this morning.

We’ve come to get some elixir for my Wendell’s cough. He’s been coughing up green frogs all night, Amelia said with a shuddering grimace.

It seems to be going around. I just tended Hwitford yesterday. I am glad I made an extra supply for the winter season. Looks like we’re going to need a lot of it, Edreia told her. She went over to her rows of remedies where she pulled one from the shelf. She opened the container and filled the vial Holly brought and handed her.

In the meantime, Amelia kept glancing toward the bed at Nelda’s still form. Finally, her curiosity got the best of her. She eased over to the bed. Bending over the old woman, she gently touched the backs of her fingers to Nelda’s forehead and straightened up with a start. The old woman’s skin was icy cold.

Merciful saints! Amelia exclaimed, jerking her hand away and turning to stare at Edreia.

Edreia handed the vial of medicine to Holly. Let Wendell have a swallow when he needs it, she said. It should break up the congestion.

Edreia turned