Protected by the Warrior. Barbara Phinney
keep safe? Are you addled?”
For the briefest of moments, Kenneth looked bewildered. Clara wondered if she’d switched languages. So far, their conversations had been totally in English, which he spoke well enough, albeit with a heavy accent.
Then the moment ended. Whatever Kenneth was thinking at that moment was gone. He rose, standing a full head above her, his long, lean form looking far stronger than she’d first realized. “I am not addled, woman,” he ground out. “’Tis as obvious as the nose on your face that the son needs his father, and that the mother, with barely two coins to rub together, cannot provide for him properly. Even King William’s mother knew enough to allow William to be raised by his father’s people. Given to his father, Rowena’s child would have food in his belly and clothes on his back!”
“Aye, food from a brutal father who would wrench mother and child apart, then kill the mother? I expect you feel ’tis fine for a man to use a woman, then kill her when she stands up for herself! And you think that a child only needs food and clothing? Nay, you know nothing of family life! Nothing!” Her voice cracked. “A child needs its mother. Believe me when I say that!”
She then threw up her hands. “Why am I even talking to you? You’re a soldier who knows only encampments and battles and polishing mail for your master!”
He laughed, a hearty, bold outburst that proved he was genuinely enjoying himself! Immediately, she felt herself bristle, her face heating while humiliation burned inside of her. Her mother had often said that redheads had hot brains that caused their hair to be such a fiery color. Well, her brains were very hot right now!
Finally calming, Kenneth shook his head. “Oiling the mail of as fine knight as Lord Adrien is a privilege, not a duty for a fool. My lord has taught me too many important things, and I am privileged to pledge my life to him.” His smile dissolved, replaced by a dark stare. “And be thankful that even though I threw you in the dungeon yesterday, I will also lay down my life for you, for this I have pledged to my lord to do.”
She would not be lured away by the sudden turn of his temper. Scoffing, she tossed up her bandaged hand. “What nonsense! I am but a Saxon midwife. You make me sound like a precious princess to be protected.”
“I know nothing of fine ladies and fancy princesses,” Kenneth answered. “I only know that I will protect you.”
A part of her leaped inside, but she would not be like a young girl taken by charming words. “Until Lord Taurin arrives.”
“Thanks to your stubbornness, woman, Lord Taurin may be on his way here right now! Led here by the townsfolk of Colchester. Your people.”
She stilled, then swallowed. Aye, she’d pledged to keep Rowena safe, and her baby with her, and aye, she’d die in order to keep such a pledge, but what if Taurin was on his way? What would happen then? Her own people would have turned on her, leaving her to the mercy of Taurin and his men.
Her heart squeezed. Then the question would be, could she keep Rowena safe? What if Taurin attacked the keep? She’d pledged to save lives, not cause them to be lost in battle.
Dear Lord, guide me and keep Rowena and her babe safe.
Tears sprang to her eyes as she sank onto the bench. For a long moment, she just swallowed and thought and rethought all that was happening. Then she felt a soft hand on her shoulder and looked up to find not Kenneth offering sympathy, but Brindi. Through watery eyes, she saw Kenneth frown with curiosity behind the little girl.
“’Tis just her usual tears, sir,” Brindi said, sitting down and putting her arms around Clara as if she were the older sister. “Ever since she offered her life to our Lord and pledged to care for the sick, her heart has turned as soft as lamb’s wool. Our aunt often said ’tis the price of having a heart for God and people.”
Clara flushed. Enough of this. She wouldn’t be exposing her heart to the man who would see Rowena punished for running away. Clara bustled to her feet and quickly swiped the wetness from around her eyes. She had no desire to lay bare her woolly, foolish heart in front of Kenneth. He’d only make her regret all she’d done so far and twist it to make her reveal where Rowena was.
Nay, she would not do such a thing, and no amount of fear for the consequences would change that.
She smoothed the skirt of her cyrtel. ’Twas her best one, and she should keep it good. That meant no tears to stain the material at her lap. “Never mind me. We will deal with the day as it comes. And I see it has already started. Brindi, we need to break our fast before we weed the garden, and you—” she leveled as firm a stare as possible at Kenneth “—you have a door to fix.”
* * *
Kenneth tried the door one last time, satisfied that, finally, it closed firmly, without scraping or catching. And none too soon, for his patience with this expensive board was growing thin. He was a soldier, not a carpenter. Still, his handiwork was satisfactory.
Though Clara may find some fault in it. When he’d escorted her to Dunmow from Colchester, she’d corrected him several times on his equestrian abilities. Aye, she was skilled on a horse, more than most men, which was unusual, for she’d been a fisherman’s daughter and then a midwife. But he would not ask her how she’d learned such talent. He refused to risk hearing even more pointers on how to ride a big horse properly.
He bent to gather the tools he’d borrowed from the smithy, a man who lived at the end of the road, beside the forest.
Not the safest place to live, but the smithy could easily defend his family, he was that strong. Kenneth’s thoughts wandered to Rowena and her safety. Where had Clara hidden the young mother and her babe? There were leagues between here and Colchester, with few homes and even fewer inns. The fens to the east, where peat had once been cut and dried for fuel, were unlivable. And Clara would be a fool to hide her in the forest. Those Saxons who defied the law and lived in the king’s forests were hardened men, criminals some. Not the safest place to hide a mother and child. Surely Clara would choose a hiding spot wisely. Perhaps to the west? A few abandoned sheep pens lay scattered about, but they would be just as unlivable.
Mayhap Clara was not wise. She’d been plucked from Colchester for her stubbornness, and the day he’d escorted her here he’d have had to have been blind to miss the fact that Clara didn’t wish to leave the town. At the time, he’d assumed it was worry at the unknown, but could it have been she’d made a hasty and unwise decision as to where she’d hidden Rowena?
If only she could just see how foolish her ideas were. ’Twas clear she feared Taurin would mistreat Rowena, but on what did she base her fears? Rowena, a runaway slave, would likely have said anything to win Clara’s sympathy and aid. Lord Taurin was not a soft man, but there was no reason to believe him to be brutal toward the mother of the child he clearly valued. Nay, Rowena would come to no serious harm if restored to Taurin’s care.
Indeed, after her punishment was past, she would likely find herself better off than she was now, with a good roof over her head and steady meals on her table. As for her child, the young son would be raised in privilege to take over a peerage and enjoy the favor of royalty. King William and his future heirs would reward strong Norman lords and their sons, legitimate or otherwise.
As he stooped to retrieve the final tool, he noticed a small section of the cloth on which he’d wiped the splinter fragments when ministering to Clara’s hand.
It had been a nasty injury she’d had. She’d endured the pain of that festering wound with no tears, but at the mention of helping the sick, she had practically wept openly.
He paused as he shoved the tools into their leather pouch. She was as dedicated to what she saw as her duty as he was. And even more stubborn. Nay, she would never reveal where Rowena was.
Oddly, such determination sparked admiration in him. Lord Adrien would love to have such strength of character in his troops.
Nay, he needed to set aside all admiration. He’d pledged to find the slave woman and her child, and turn them over to Taurin.
Though