A Dishonorable Knight (17 page)

***

The rain was no longer refreshing. It
was cold. Elena was soaked through and she could scarcely see a few feet in
front of her as she waded through the bog that was the road. She pushed her wet
hair out of her face. She was suddenly as hot as she had been when the sun had
been beating down on her. Gasping for breath, she stopped and raised her face
to the downpour. The next minute she was freezing again, shivering in an effort
to warm
herself
. Without realizing it, she resumed her
wobbly way along the road, oblivious to everything but the steady drumming of
rain on her head as she vacillated between being hot and cold in the downpour.
Suddenly, the way ahead of her was no longer dark grey--it was pitch black and
her knees buckled as she slid to the ground, unconscious.

***

Isrid reared suddenly, nearly
throwing Gareth who was caught unaware. "What the hell?" he yelled
and was about to jerk Isrid back down when he saw what had startled the animal.
Huddled in the middle of the road, not a hoof's stride away was a crumpled
form. Bryant and Cynan reined in and Bryant yelled, "What is it?"

Gareth dismounted and pointed. He
approached the still figure, saw that it was a woman, and crouched down to
determine if she was still alive. When he rolled her over and wiped the mud
from her face, he felt as if someone had kicked him sharply in the stomach.
"Blessed Christ!"

"Gareth?" Cynan yelled.

"It's Elena!" he called
back as he scooped her up and carried her back towards Isrid.

"What? How could it be?"

"I'll be damned if I know. Here,
hold her!" Cynan jumped off his horse and took Elena's bedraggled form as
Gareth quickly mounted. Settling her as gently as he could in front of him, he
brushed her tangled hair back from her face, the back of his hand grazing her
cheek.

"She's burning up with fever!
We've got to get her inside somewhere!"

"There's not so much as a hut
for miles, Gareth, much less a town that might boast a healer," Cynan
said.

"Yes there is. In
Machynlleth."

"Machynlleth? Are you mad? In
case you don't remember, we turned back from that ford because we couldn't
cross it. Machynlleth is several miles on the other side. We'll never make
it!"

"We'll have to make it,"
Gareth said implacably. Every moment they argued his stomach clenched into
tighter knots. Elena had not made a sound since he had found her.

Bryant was staring at Elena's huddled
form. Turning to Cynan he said, "Our horses are strong. They can swim the
ford. We'll tie lines onto each other so we won't get swept away."

"Not you too, Bryant! I thought
at least you'd have some sense. The best we can do is find shelter in the trees
and try to build a fire."

"There isn't a dry stick to be
had in all of Wales, right now, I'll wager," Bryant argued.

Gareth had had enough. Urging Isrid
up against Cynan's mount he grasped his friend's wrist. "She'll die if we
don't get her dry and warm soon. We must try to cross the river." When
Cynan started to shake his head, Gareth continued more urgently, "What if
this was Enid, Cynan?"

Cynan glanced at Elena's pale face
and then
back
to Gareth's eyes, wide with fright and
filled with desperation. "Enid will have your head if you get me killed,
Gareth. Let's go."

Gareth had never felt such relief
before. Spurring Isrid vigorously, he headed for the flooded river. At least
the accursed rain is slowing, he thought frantically as they approached the
swollen banks of the Dovey. The river had risen several inches since they had
left and it was traveling as fast as a horse could run.

Cynan shook his head but said
nothing. Bryant pulled a length of rope from his pack and quickly secured it
round his waist. He tossed it to Gareth who wrapped it around
himself
and Elena before finally handing it to Cynan. Bryant
urged his apprehensive horse into the quickly running water. As Gareth
followed, Elena awoke and grabbed at his drenched shirt. Gareth glanced down
quickly and in the grey light of the storm, her eyes were dark, sparkling with
fevered intensity.

"They're after you," she
whispered hoarsely.

Gareth had no idea what she was
talking about but knew that he needed every bit of concentration for guiding
his horse across the river. "'Tis alright, my lady. We're safe now,"
he soothed. "Just go back to sleep and I'll wake you when we're
home."

"At Eyri Keep?" she asked
as her lids drooped closed.

"Yes."

Wrapping his right arm more tightly
around her, Gareth wiped the rain off his face and guided Isrid into the dark
water with his left. The bank of the normally shallow ford dropped instantly
into water that easily reached Isrid's chest. Gareth felt the swift pull of the
water as is swirled around his feet and he wondered fleetingly if Cynan hadn't
been right after all. The water quickly deepened and Isrid was soon swimming.
Gareth prayed his horse would not tire before they reached the other side.

Gareth could hear Isrid's loud
breathing over the roaring rush of the water. He looked behind him to see Cynan
patting his horse's neck, shouting encouragement to the frightened beast.
Looking down at Elena, Gareth prayed they would make it across. Branches and
bits of debris pelted his legs and Isrid's sides with the force of arrows as
the river shot them downstream. Squinting through the steady downpour, he
guessed Bryant's horse would reach the far bank in a few more strokes and for
the first time, he began to believe they would make it. Bryant's horse was not
ten feet from the bank and had just got its feet on the river bottom when a
huge log slammed into it, throwing it off balance. The horse screamed and
scrambled clumsily to regain its footing. As soon as it was on its feet it
bolted for the shore. Bryant held a tight rein on him but the horse refused to
be stayed. Gareth felt the rope lurch and nearly lost his balance in the
saddle. Elena moaned as the wet cord cut into her waist.

"Bryant!" Gareth yelled.
"Pull back! Pull back!" Isrid strained against the pull of Gareth on
his back and Gareth and Elena were suddenly pulled off the horse. Though the
rain was cold, the river was freezing. Gareth struggled to the surface, pulling
Elena up with him. Her full skirts caught in the current, trying to pull her
away from him and still unconscious, she was a dead weight, dragging Gareth
under. Just as he got both their heads above water, he felt another abrupt
lurch as the horse reached the opposite shore and tried to run. Bryant quickly
jumped off and began hauling in on the rope. Gareth's feet had just touched
bottom when Cynan splashed up and helped them to shore. Gareth collapsed in the
mud until his gasps for breath slowed. He quickly reached for Elena, convinced
she should be dead after such a trial. Her pulse still beat strongly but
despite the dunk in the cold water, her skin still burned to the touch.

"We've got to get her to
shelter," Gareth yelled over the roar of the water. Both Bryant and Cynan
nodded grimly. Cynan untied the swollen rope from Gareth and Elena while Bryant
chased down his still-jittery horse. Within minutes they were tearing along the
muddy road to Machynlleth.

Two hours later they rode into the
small town, exhausted and mud spattered. Gareth stopped at the first inn they
came to. With Elena in his arms, he kicked the door open and strode across the
small room.

"I need a room. Now," he
gasped. "My wife is ill. Get a fire going immediately."

The innkeeper and his wife stared at
him as if he were Lucifer himself until he bellowed, "Move!" Quickly
jumping up, the woman ran upstairs while the man gathered an armload of wood
from a box in the corner of the room. Gareth followed the man upstairs, willing
his legs not to collapse until he reached the bed. As soon as the innkeeper had
a fire going, Gareth said, "Get out. No not you," as the wife moved
to follow her husband. "I need your help undressing her. She's soaked
through and burning with fever.

Although the woman had first seemed
as timid as a field mouse, she soon proved both competent and wise as she
deftly pulled Elena's kirtle and chemise over her head. "There's a cloth
on that wash stand," she said, gesturing with her chin as she laid Elena
gently on the bed and began pulling off her boots. When Gareth handed her the
cloth, she briskly rubbed Elena dry and quickly pulled the covers up.

"I'll prepare a compress,"
the woman said as she spread Elena's clothes in front of the blaze.
"You'll want to add a few more logs to that fire and get out of your wet
clothes. You'll do your wife no good if you catch the fever yourself."

Gareth stared at the closed door for
several moments before rousing himself enough to unlace the cuffs of his shirt.
He paused with his hands on the waistband of his chausses and glanced at Elena.
Perhaps he shouldn't even be in here. At the time, saying she was his wife had
seemed like the best reason to have an unchaperoned young woman with him. Now
he wondered what Elena's reaction would be should she wake the next morning to
find him in the same room. He was about to grab up his shirt and join Cynan and
Bryant when the innkeeper's wife returned.

"Here, you may borrow this shirt
while yours dries. It belonged to my brother. He died last spring. Your friends
are settled in the small room downstairs." She set a large wooden bowl on
the floor beside the bed and began applying a wet cloth to Elena's face. The
smell of chamomile filled the room as she dipped the cloth back into the bowl.

"Perhaps I should sleep with my
friends downstairs and allow you to tend to her," Gareth said, easing
towards the door. When the woman shook her head he said, "I'll pay you
well. You obviously know much more of healing than I do and--"

"And should she wake up in the
middle of the night how do you think she'll feel to have a stranger here
instead of her husband. No, come here and I'll show you what to do."

Gareth pulled the borrowed shirt over
his head and crossed the room apprehensively. The woman stood and motioned him
to sit on the edge of the bed next to Elena who appeared deathly pale in the
firelight.

"Just wring that cloth out and
wipe her face and throat gently with it." When Gareth did as she
instructed, she leaned over and pulled the rough blanket down. "She's got
a bit of a rattle in her breath. You'll want to put the compress on her chest
as well to ease her breathing."

Gareth swallowed and concentrated on
keeping his hands steady as he drew the pungent cloth between Elena's silken
breasts.

"No not like that. You won't do
her any good to just sponge her off. Here," she took the cloth from Gareth
and dipping it back into the bowl, took his hand in her and pressed it over the
cloth to Elena's chest. "Just hold it there for a few minutes and then
rewet it. I'll go and see if there's anything to feed you."

Gareth looked studiously at the wall
above the bed while he held the cloth against Elena's chest. When he removed it
he carefully avoided looking at her and concentrated on meticulously dipping
the cloth in the fragrant water and wringing it out. How long did he have to
continue this, he wondered as he changed the cloth pressed to her forehead.

Elena inhaled suddenly and began
tossing her head. Gareth froze, afraid to touch her. "Gareth!" she
called. Gareth's eyes widened. What if she'd been conscious while he'd applied
the cloth to her-
-

"Gareth," she called again.
"They know, they..." Her words faded into an incoherent mumble.

"Shh," he whispered,
awkwardly stroking her hair. "I'm right here."

Elena's eyes opened a little.
"Gareth?"

"Yes. We're in an inn. Can you
tell me how you came to be in the middle of the road? Elena? Why were you
following us?"

Elena seemed not to understand what
he was asking. "Promise," she mumbled.

"What? Promise what,
Elena?"

"Don't...don't leave me
again..."

"Don't worry," Gareth
assured. "I'll be right here until you feel better."

"Promise," she whispered as
her eyes closed again.

"I promise," he said, and
since she seemed to be asleep, he leaned over and kissed her lightly on her
fever-hot lips. Gareth leaned closer. Despite the fever, she was so pale he
could make out a light sprinkling of freckles across her nose. He ran his
finger over them lightly, smiling. He jerked his hand away quickly when
a light tap on the door was followed by the innkeeper's wife
carrying a tray
.

"Since we've not had visitors
for several days, I'm afraid there isn't much food ready, but I brought a bit
of bread and some broth," she said apologetically. "You should try to
get some liquid down her throat." When Gareth reached for one of the bowls
to feed Elena, the woman shook her head. "If she's sleeping now let her
be. Besides, you look exhausted. Why don't you eat while I change the
compresses and then you can try to wake her.
"

Gareth nodded and took the steaming
bowl of broth. He drained it in one long gulp and began gnawing on the thick
dark bread. When he had finished eating, she took the empty bowl and said,
"If she should take a turn for the worse, just pound on the floor. Ours is
the room right below this one and I'll be right up. Now just keep changing
those compresses until she starts to sweat. When that happens, keep her covered
and warm. If the fever doesn't break by morning, I'll fetch the healer."