Dark Destroyer (15 page)

“Very well,” he finally said, eyeing the peasant woman over by the bed. “Before I go hunting for willow trees in the snow, ask her if she knows of any.”

Kathalin nodded, returning to the bed where the woman and her children were gathered, and she asked the woman about willow trees in the area. Immediately, the woman pointed off to the west and, as Gates watched, evidently gave Kathalin some manner of instructions. Kathalin listened and quickly returned to him.

“There is a stream behind the house and the woman says that the white willows grow there,” she said. “You must cut out squares of the surface bark and bring it to me. Please bring me as much as you can.”

She was holding up her hands to demonstrate the size and thickness of what she required. Gates bobbed his head in acknowledgement.

“Aye, my lady.”

“And hurry.”

“Aye, my lady.”

Kathalin offered him a timid little smile of gratitude as he headed out of the cottage and Gates was bold enough to wink at her.
That sassy, bold wink
. Kathalin’s smile turned genuine as she watched the man walk out and close the door behind him.

Giddy
, she thought.
He makes me quite giddy
.

Smile still on her face, she turned back to the woman and her children, huddled in the bed, and promptly went to work.

When the farmer’s widow had set out for the nearest village that morning in search of help for her children, she never imagined that the day would turn out as it did with the fortuitous meeting of the soldiers from Hyssington. It would seem that God had decided she’d had enough pain over the past few weeks and was determined to send her angels of relief in the form of a well-dressed lady, two knights, and several burly soldiers.

It started when the two knights had gone off to harvest willow bark per the lady’s instructions. Outside, the soldier searching for an axe had managed to come across two of them in the larger outbuilding that served as a barn for several sheep, two goats, two horses, and a cow who were quite hungry from having not been fed. With the death of the farmer and the sick children, the widow hadn’t been able to tend them as well as she needed to.

Therefore, while four of the soldiers went off to cut wood for the fire, the rest remained behind with the stock and released them from the barn so they could wander the muddy, frozen yard. They found a stash of hay in a smaller outbuilding, part of which had been damaged by a leaking roof, and while a pair of soldiers tossed bundles of hay to the hungry animals, another soldier fixed the roof so the rest of the hay could remain in good condition, at least for a while. When they finished pitching the hay, the de Lara soldiers wandered the farm to see if anything else needed tending or fixing. When they found something, they took care of it.

The little farm had a good deal of help that day.

Meanwhile, the four men who had gone off to chop wood from a nearby copse of trees returned dragging saplings and other not-quite-mature trees because they didn’t have the means to haul anything bigger. The wood was mostly wet although there was some of it that was dry, and the wood was cut up and brought into the woodshed next to the cottage, stacked up so it could dry. Meanwhile, Kathalin had admitted one of the soldiers into the cottage so the man could start a fire. Soon enough, a blaze began to burn in the darkened hearth and for the first time in days, the sad little cottage saw light and warmth.

And that was when Kathalin could do more good for them. Gates had sent a soldier back to the road where the bulk of the army was and the man collected what provisions he could carry on horseback and brought it back to the farm. There were two sacks of sand-colored flour, barley, dried vegetables, salt, and dried beef. Having managed the kitchen at St. Milburga’s, Kathalin knew what to do with the items.

Soon, a thin but tasty soup made from dried vegetables, barley, and the dried beef was bubbling over the hearth and Kathalin made little dough balls from a small measure of the flour, dropping the balls into the simmering soup to make dumplings. It would be difficult to make bread without any yeast so she mixed some of the water and flour together and set it in a pan by the warm fire, knowing that on the morrow there would be yeast to make bread from it.

As the soup bubbled, she had noticed that the farmer’s cottage did have some ingredients about, small barrels of grain and a salt bin. There were also bundles of dried flowers and herbs hanging from the ceiling near the hearth, undoubtedly to use in the wintertime as additives to food, and she came across dried roses and rose leaves, dried bundles of rosemary, and what she thought to be chamomile flowers. She inspected the bundles closely, drawing upon her training for medicinal uses.

Mother Benedicta had been an expert in herbs and gardens and had schooled her wards well; consequently, Kathalin knew a good deal about herbs and other plants. There were other bundles of dried things, one of which was clearly wild mint, and Kathalin knew what she could do with what she had. Therefore, she took to boiling the chamomile and roses with the mint to soothe the children and possibly help the fever.

The children, two youngsters no more than four and six years of age, respectively, weren’t eager to drink the tea but with the help of their mother and grandmother, they sipped at it. Even the grandmother, who was clearly ill, was given the tea and she eagerly drank it. The soup soon became ready, or at least the dumplings were cooked and the beef fully hydrated, and Kathalin doled the liquid out, finding the children were more apt to eat now they were able to put some tea in their bellies. Warm and soothed bellies were more receptive to food.

Gates returned to the cottage a short time later to find the children, mother, and grandmother eating the soup and dumplings that Kathalin had prepared for them. He was quite cold from having been pushing about a snow-laden willow tree on the edge of a frozen stream, cutting off squares of bark with his dagger, and he and Stephan barged into the cottage with their arms laden with chunks of the bark they had cut from the tree. Both men carefully dumped the bark onto the tabletop, shaking out bits of snow with it.

“There,” he told Kathalin as she swooped over the bark to inspect it. He brushed off his hands, feeling the warmth from the fire sting the frozen flesh of his face. “Due to the fact that the tree is very close to the stream, it leans towards the water, and there is growth all around it. It was difficult to get what we were able to manage. I hope it is enough.”

Kathalin nodded. “It should be,” she said as she carefully inspected it. “It looks as if it is excellent quality, too.”

Gates sighed, removing his gloves so he could warm his hands. “That is good to hear,” he said. “We must leave as soon as possible, my lady. Do what you need to do so we can make it to Hyssington before nightfall.”

Kathalin simply nodded as she began to work with the bark, brushing it off and making sure it was free of vermin. As Stephan pulled off his gloves and put his hands up against the fire, steam rising from his frozen and ice-caked clothing, Gates began to look around the small cottage, realizing that something had changed since he was last here.

There was a lovely-smelling soup bubbling on the hearth and the farmer’s family was slurping it up from bowls. The floor was swept, there were bags of provisions from his army neatly stacked up against the wall, and there was a big fire burning in the hearth. It began to occur to him that Kathalin had prepared food for the family and taken care of the cottage. God only knew what else she had done. Aye, she’d been quite busy while he was out hunting willow bark.

A seed of respect began to sprout.

“Did you do all of this?” he asked her, gesturing to the hearth and the food in general.

Kathalin glanced up from the bark. “Aye,” she said. “They had very little by way of food. I do not know what they had been eating for the past several days but with the fire, I was able to make them a good soup that should last them for a few days. And the provisions from the army will keep them supplied until the woman can get into town and buy more. It was very kind of you to give them your provisions.”

He only gave them to the family because Kathalin had asked and for no other reason than that. Gates simply nodded, unwilling to absorb her accolades because it seemed oddly out of place to do that. It was clear that Kathalin had done a great deal of work for the destitute family and he was quite impressed with not only her skill but her willingness to help people who were clearly in need. It seemed to make no difference to her that they were poor and ill; she simply wanted to help. That spoke of a true and open heart to him, something that couldn’t be taught. That kind of generosity and compassion was part of one’s character.

That measure of compassion was rare, just as she was, and his respect for her grew.

But then there was him, who had virtually no compassion for the impoverished. He’d seen so many needy families in war-torn France over the past year that he’d become hardened to it. He began to feel guilty for thinking that helping this family was all one great inconvenience, especially when Kathalin was trying to do something good and helpful. She didn’t see the needy the way he did.

But he should have.

Given that she’d spent the past fourteen years with a healing order, it made sense that Kathalin viewed things differently than he did. Even now, Gates watched her as she collected a small pot that was stacked near the hearth and went to the water barrel to fill it with some water. She then put it on an iron rack over the hearth to boil, taking pieces of bark and putting them into the water. Her movements were fluid and lovely, her fingers slender and white. She had callouses on her palms from the manual labor at St. Milburga’s, but it didn’t detract from the loveliness of her hands. It didn’t detract from anything about her. The more Gates watched her, the more entranced he became with this woman of multi-facets.

“Once the bark boils and I strain it, they will drink the brew and it should help the fever,” she told him, breaking into his thoughts. “We can leave as soon as they are able to drink the liquid. I will hurry.”

Gates simply shook his head, sighing faintly as he did so. “It was wrong of me to rush you,” he said quietly. “Forgive me. You are trying to help these people and I am trying to rush you out. Take your time and do what you need to do. Your father will have to understand.”

Surprised at his turn of heart, for he had been clearly impatient about this entire endeavor, Kathalin looked at him with a rather wide-eyed expression, unsure what to say to him. But there was something in his gaze as he looked at her that was warm and gentle. She’d never seen that from him before and her heart, that silly and naive thing, began to beat just a little faster.

Warmth.

She felt warmth from him. Was it possible he felt it, too?

“I will be finished as soon as the bark boils,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t sound as tremulous as she felt. “I know that you are anxious to return to Hyssington and I do not want my father to become cross with you because I delayed the return.”

Gates smiled at her words. “He will not become cross with me,” he said, but then he wriggled his eyebrows. “Not much, anyway. We can usually soothe any anger he might have by speaking on subjects he is eager to discuss. We distract him as easily as one would an angry child.”

Kathalin smiled at his impish statement. “We?” she asked. “Who is ‘we’?”

Still by the fire, nearly smoking his clothes because he was so close to the flame, Stephan spoke before Gates could. “He means the knights, my lady,” he said, glancing at her. “Your father is easily distracted with talk of warfare. Remember that should he ever become angry with you.”

Kathalin laughed softly. “But I do not know any tales of warfare,” she said. “I do not suppose I could distract him with talk of healing herbs or flour measures? Unfortunately, that is all that I know.”

Stephan shook his head. “He would become positively irate should you speak to him of healing herbs,” he said flatly. “Gates and I will tell you of great battles so that you may discuss them intelligently with your father. It is your only hope.”

Kathalin, still smiling, looked at Gates. “What great battles will you school me on?” she asked. “Can you teach me the entire military history of England between now and the time we reach Hyssington?”

Gates snorted. “You would die of utter boredom if we tried,” he said. “What can we tell her of, Bear? Something quick and deadly.”

Stephan grinned as Kathalin cocked her head curiously at Gates. “Why do you call him Bear?”

Gates nodded, smiling because Stephan was. “An old knight started calling him that many years ago when his beard first came in and he refused to shave it off,” he said. “He also refused to cut his hair, so between the hair and the beard, he looked like a bear. He is also the size of one, in case you have not noticed.”

Kathalin looked at Stephan, who merely shrugged. “My mother likes me this way,” he said.

Gates rolled his eyes. “Your mother is blind,” he pointed out. “She cannot see anything at all. You tell her what she likes and she simply agrees with you.”

Stephan pretended to be quite insulted. “Women like men with hair,” he said, looking at Kathalin. “Is that not so, my lady? Women appreciate a good beard, do they not?”