Bliss(28)
Author: Lynsay Sands

Helen shook her head. She hadn’t seen what set the animal off. Perhaps Sir William had, though she doubted it. His attention had been on Hethe, or so it had seemed. She glanced questioningly toward the knight who stood patiently at the foot of the bed.

"I shall find out," William vowed when he saw her look. And with that, he strode purposefully from the room.

"I need you to move your foot."

Helen glanced at Mary at those words. The healer was now by Hethe’s swollen leg. Hethe twitched his foot, wincing in pain as he did, and the young woman nodded in satisfaction.

"Good. It is not broken. I did not think so, but…" She shrugged. "I think you had best stay abed for the rest of the day, my lord. Both your head and leg need a chance to heal."

Hethe scowled. "I will not spend the day abed. I have things to do."

"Whatever you have to do can wait another day or so," Helen said firmly. When he started to protest, she added, "William shall take care of whatever cannot wait."

Hethe grunted in disgust. "That was what I thought when I left Stephen in charge. You know how that turned out."

Helen’s determination dimmed briefly, but after a glance at his forehead she straightened grimly. "This is different. You are here this time. Simply unable to traipse about."

"I – " Hethe began, but Mary interrupted.

"I fear that the tincture I just gave you for the pain in your head will not allow you to do anything, my lord. You shall be sleeping like a babe quite soon."

Hethe did not look pleased. His gaze narrowed and alternated from one woman to the other as if suspecting they were in cahoots. "I suppose this was my wife’s idea? She was trying to lure me back to bed earlier, and now she has convinced you to aid her in the endeavor."

Helen’s jaw dropped at her husband’s accusation; then she caught the sparkle in his eyes and realized the man was teasing. Wrinkling her nose, she shook her head when Mary glanced at her uncertainly. She retorted, "I fear you may have suffered brain damage, after all, my lord husband. Surely you are imagining things if you think that I would want a scraped-up and dented specimen such as yourself in my bed."

Hethe started to laugh, as she knew he would, then stopped abruptly, wincing in pain. "Oh, my head,"

he groaned, clasping his hands to either side of it.

"It serves you right," Helen snapped, but inside she felt a brief twinge of concern.

Giving a great sigh, Hethe lay back in the bed and glanced at Mary. "Did you send someone to fetch your mother back yet?"

Helen widened her eyes in surprise, looking at the healer for an answer.

"Lord Holden sought me out this morning and told me my mother was needed here," the girl explained.

"He said he never intended or ordered her to leave, that I was to have her move back." She grinned shyly. "She will take her rightful place again, and I won’t have to go running to her with questions all the time."

"Oh, ’tis marvelous," Helen murmured.

"Aye," the young healer agreed. She spun back toward Hethe, telling him, "She was here this morning when you told me to request her return. She checks up on me from time to time because – " She paused, flustered as she realized what she was saying.

Helen patted the girl’s shoulder sympathetically. "She came to make sure the Hammer of Holden wasn’t stringing you up by your thumbs, or something else equally heinous… all for some minor offense," she murmured with a hint of amusement at her husband’s expense. He was looking terribly disgruntled at his ogrish reputation. " ‘Tis all right, we understand. So you were able to tell her the good news yourself."

"Aye." Mary beamed at them both. "She is down in the village collecting her things now. Otherwise, you would have had her to tend you instead of me."

"You did well," Hethe said reassuringly, obviously struggling to push aside his irritation. "Never think I am bringing your mother here because you are inept. You are very skilled, but – "

"But she is more so," Mary finished, without taking insult. "I am not offended. I am grateful to have her near and to be able to learn from her. And she is grateful as well, my lord."

"Aye… well…" He shifted about in the bed, looking as uncomfortable at the praise as he had at being thought an ogre. "I am just sorry that she was thrown out in the first place. I truly did not order it." He scowled. "I considered having all the old servants returned to the castle, but I don’t have the first idea who they are. And then there is the problem of what to do with the young women who replaced them."

"No doubt most of the women have found new positions elsewhere," Helen answered. She knew that a couple had found work with her. Hethe’s expression said he suspected that might be the case. Shrugging wryly, she glanced at Mary. "Perhaps, if you know of anyone, or your mother does, who hasn’t yet found work, you might have them report to me during the next couple of days."

"I will be happy to, my lady," the girl assured her sincerely, then began to collect her medicinals together.

She was at the door before Helen recalled her hunger.

"Mary?" she asked. The girl paused and swung back questioningly. "Would you please have Cook send up something for me to eat? I have not yet even broken my fast."

"Certainly, my lady." And with that, the healer was gone.

"You needn’t stay here with me," Hethe murmured as the door closed behind her.

Helen glanced down at the man to see that Mary’s tincture was already taking hold. He was starting to look as if holding his eyes open was a struggle.

"Tired of me already, are you, my lord?" she teased lightly.

He forced his eyes open to peer at her and gave a grunt. "Not likely." His expression turned serious.

"Do you regret that our marriage is final, wife? Do you wish you had found a way out of it?"

Helen peered down at her hand. It rested in his. She, or he, she wasn’t sure which of them had done it, but one of them had sought the comfort of the other’s touch. It might have been her. Watching him being struck by a horse had scared her silly. She still felt shaky from it. She shouldn’t, really; she hardly knew the man. Or did she? She had not known him long, but she had seen his response to many situations over the past several days. She bad watched him wage their silent war with humor and good spirits. Had watched him keep his temper in the face of some unfair attacks. She had witnessed his wit and charm.

And she had truly enjoyed his lovemaking.

"Helen?" he asked, but she was saved from answering by a tap at the door. Slipping her hand from his, she moved to answer it, stepping aside to allow two young maids to enter. She started to direct them to the chest by the fireplace, but Hethe overrode her, ordering the girls to place the food and wine on the chest beside the bed.

Following them reluctantly, Helen watched the serving women set out the food, noting with some interest that they were sending tentative smiles toward Hethe as they did. Helen suspected that the news was making the rounds. Mary would have passed on the fact that Hethe denied having ordered the harsh punishments and removal of all but the pretty serving girls. They would also have learned that he had asked that Mary’s mother come back, that he was searching for Stephen to straighten out the matter.

She had not seen their response to Hethe before this, but Helen suspected from his pleased reaction that these were the first servants’ smiles he had received in a long time. She waited until the maids had left to comment.

"They appear to be willing to give you the benefit of the doubt," she said as the door closed behind the departing pair. She settled onto the edge of the bed near the chest where the women had set the food and wine.

Hethe gave a crooked smile. "As ashamed as I am to admit it, I never really noticed their fear and resentment of me. Looking back, I realize they were hardly welcoming, but I was here so rarely – "

"Why?" Helen asked, eager to avoid her husband recalling his earlier question. She was not sure how she felt about this marriage. Though her feelings seemed mostly good now – she was definitely beginning to see Hethe as a human being – they were too new for her to wish to dwell on. Keeping on some other topic seemed a good idea.

Hethe was silent so long, she thought he would not answer. Glancing over curiously from pouring some wine, she saw uncertainty and unhappiness pass over his face. When she offered him the goblet she’d filled, he refused and closed his eyes. She had just decided that he had drifted off to sleep when he spoke.

"When I was younger," he began slowly, "I hated it here."

Helen raised her eyebrows at that confession. Holden was a large gloomy castle, true, but it needn’t be.

It simply lacked the finer touches that could make a keep a home, tapestries and the like. It had been neglected, and felt like it. But surely it had not always been so? When his parents had lived?

"My mother died when I was still quite young, and my father was a hard man," he answered as if she had spoken aloud. "I was a great disappointment to him."

Helen started to argue that that couldn’t be true, but he waved away her attempts to comfort him.

"It’s true. In fact, he brought both William and Stephen into the schoolroom with me to shame me into trying harder. He thought the competition would do me good. That I would try harder to do better than

‘two village brats,’ as he called them. It did not turn out quite the way he had hoped." His mouth twisted wryly. "I was trying, you see. But no matter how hard I tried, I always seemed to have difficulty. William and Stephen, rather than become competition, covered for me. We became firm friends. Of course, I could never let my father know that, else he would have removed them. So we pretended to hate each other when he was around – which, thankgoodness, was not often. Then when it came to training for knighthood, he kept me here and had them train with me. They became two of his best soldiers."

"And your best friends," Helen murmured. He nodded. "As soon as I was old enough, I ran away to war, and they came with me."

"Your father must have been livid."

"Oh, aye." He gave a short laugh. "He did not give me all that training and education to have me slaughtered on the field for the king’s greed," he quoted dryly and shook his head. "The first time I returned home, he arranged for my marriage to Nerissa. He wanted to see me wed, to get an heir from me before I was killed on the battlefield."

"But that was not the only reason?" Helen guessed from his tone.

"Nay. In truth, he wanted Nerissa’s dower. She was still young – barely twelve, too young for marriage – but our land needed the coin. My father pushed for the wedding."

"And Nerissa’s father?" Helen asked curiously.

Her husband gave a brief bitter laugh. "The man was eager for the title. They were a wealthy merchant family, but were common. They wanted to be one of us. Nobles."

"So the wedding went forward."

"Aye." Hethe sighed, and opened his eyes briefly, glancing around at the tapestries overhead. "I tried to convince them that we should wait at least a year or so to consummate the marriage, but they would have none of it." He was silent for several moments and she was sure he was remembering. She could see the anger and frustration. The regret. "Nerissa died nine months later in child birth. It lasted three days." He paused, and a haunted look crossed his features. "Sometimes I can still hear her screams."

He seemed to fret over that for a moment, then his gaze suddenly raised to hers with horror. "Dear God, I forgot all about that! I was so distracted – first, with trying to accomplish the task, then with the doing itself – that I did not think to take precautions."

"Precautions?" Helen asked, both confused and made anxious by his obvious upset.

"I should have withdrawn or…" Regret filled his face. "If you are with child because of my – "

"I am not Nerissa, my lord," Helen interrupted quickly, her heart warming at his worry. "I am not a child.

I will not die on the birthing bed," she assured him, though she really couldn’t guarantee such a thing. Her own mother had not survived her second child. But Helen would not have him fearing such a circumstance.

Deciding their original topic was a safer one, she prodded him back to it. "So, after Nerissa’s death you went back to avoiding Holden?"

"Aye. And neglected my castle and my people… and they have suffered for it."

Helen reached out to touch his hand tentatively. The guilt in his voice was agonizing to hear. She wanted to comfort him, but could not find the words. Besides, in her heart of hearts, perhaps she held him to blame. At least a bit. Being a lord, or a lady for that matter, came with a great deal of responsibility. The lives of every person on your estate were, in the end, in your hands. He had failed his subjects miserably by trusting the wrong person, and for that he was terribly in the wrong.

They were both silent for a moment; then Hethe shrugged impatiently. "Father died a couple years later.

His chatelain continued as mine, but he died just a few months before your father did. I replaced him with Stephen, whom I thought I could trust." His mouth tightened bitterly; then his gaze seemed to focus on her hand where it still lay on his. He twisted and clasped it firmly. "I was wrong. I won’t allow it to happen again."

He seemed almost to be making a vow to her. Helen opened her mouth to speak, though she wasn’t sure what she intended to say, but a tap at the door made her remain silent.

"Enter!" Hethe called, and the door opened.

It was William, and he wasn’t alone. He held a small boy by the scruff of the neck and pushed him into the room ahead of himself. The child couldn’t be more than five or six, she saw, and she was swept by a wave of both concern and curiosity.

Hethe frowned from the obviously terrified boy to his first. "What is this?"

"The culprit behind the charging horse," Sir William announced grimly. "It seems young Charles here likes to throw rocks. He hit the horse in the back flank, and the horse charged." The knight gave the boy a shake. "Tell him."