Lord of the Blade (13 page)

She didn’t know how long she slept before
she was awakened by Kenric calling out in his sleep.

"Orrick!" he cried.

Devon's head shot up from the bed and her
eyes flew open. The baron sat up and stared straight ahead. He
reached out his hand to try to touch something seen by his eyes
alone.

"Orrick," he said. "You have finally
returned."

Devon peered into the darkness, but could
see nothing.

"Yes," he continued, “the amulet. I will
find the amulet."

Devon's hand flew to her pocket, reassuring
herself that her own amulet was still there. Many people had
amulets, as it were but a common occurrence. But what he did next
was very disturbing. He clutched the sheets and gasped.

"The baby…my baby is still alive?"

Devon didn't move a muscle but just
listened. She’d discovered what she thought was a secret of the
baron’s past.

"Then I will find my child and replace the
amulet to release you from your trapped life."

Trapped?
She waited for more
conversation, but was disappointed when there was none. The baron,
having drained his energy completely, lay back down and closed his
eyes.

"Good night, my dear Baron Kenric," she said
softly. "Do not worry, your Yetta is here."

Chapter 10

Devon had awoke from her nap to find Mercia
pouring the baron’s medicine into the fire. She’d had a dream that
the cup was poisoned, and was almost relieved to find Mercia had
the same intuition. Together they’d plotted to dispose of each
batch the baroness brought, and instead, Devon would replace it
with an herbal drink of her own.

She had hurried down to the kitchen earlier
to make up a potion of herbs Heartha always gave her when she was
feeling ill. Devon was not a healer, but had learned much of herbal
medicines from Heartha throughout her life. She’d brought the drink
to the baron once every hour for the last three hours now. She
hadn’t told anyone of her doings, not even Heartha. But since the
hunting party had yet to return, the old midwife was too busy
preparing ointments and salves for the expected wounded, and didn’t
pay mind to Devon.

Now, as Devon returned to the baron’s
chamber with a tray of food, she nodded acknowledgment to the two
guards who stood watch at the baron's door. She stepped inside the
chamber, only to find the baroness and Father Chapman already
there.

"Hello!" called Kenric sitting up in bed,
the color starting to return to his face. She could see an
immediate difference in his appearance. So could everyone else.

"Hello," she called back, approaching the
bedside with the tray.

"I must confess," replied Father Chapman,
bending his tall, lean form over the bed as he held on to Kenric's
hand. "I am most surprised to see your improved condition, after
the report I received from Brother Ruford earlier."

"Yes," agreed the baroness, "As am I."

Father Chapman blessed the baron and left
the room.

Mercia stood near the fire, away from the
baroness, and Devon was surprised she was even in the same
room.

“Have you two been following my instructions
giving my husband his medicine?"

"Of course, my lady," Devon assured her.

"Good.” The baroness flicked at a speck on
her gown. "My husband is very important to me, and I will not have
his illness go untreated. If I find either of you have been
neglecting my orders, I will make certain you’re punished
severely." She scooped the medicine cup from Devon’s tray and
handed it to her husband. Devon held her breath.

“Now drink up,” she told her husband, and
turned to leave.

"'Tis no longer so bitter," replied Kenric.
“I am almost enjoying it lately.”

The baroness stopped in her tracks and
turned around. "What do you mean?"

Mercia disappeared into the wardrobe.

"Yes, Gilda," he smiled favorably, "your
concoctions are either getting better, or I am getting used to the
vile drink."

"Let me see that cup!" She reached for it,
but Devon retrieved it first.

“Give it to me,” Gilda demanded, and Devon
knew she had to obey.

“Of course, my lady.” She handed the cup to
the baroness, only purposely releasing it too soon. The drink
spilled on the woman's skirts.

"You fool!" she cried, grabbing Devon tightly
by the arm. You will be punished for this."

"Punished for what?" questioned a low male
voice from the open door.

Corbett stood in the doorway, looking weary
and ragged. His face and his clothes were caked with blood, but he
still had all his limbs. Devon’s heart leapt for joy, and she had
all she could do not to break free from the baroness’s hold and run
to him. She’d worried and prayed, and now her prayers were
answered. By the saints, her lord was alive.

"Corbett," beamed the baron in a lively
voice. The baroness released Devon’s arm and lowered her hand.

"I did not know the hunting party had
returned," replied Gilda, in a more controlled nature.

"Did the wild boar attack you?" mused Kenric
as he tried to sit up in his bed to get a better look at Corbett's
torn and bloodied clothes. Devon winced when she saw the fresh
blood at his shoulder, and wondered at the extent of his
wounds.

"Nay," replied Corbett, coming eagerly to
Kenric's side. "We were attacked this morning in the forest by a
small army of mercenaries." His face saddened as he relived the
memories. "Several of my men were not so lucky as to return. And
most of the rest have been injured in some way. One of Sefton’s
hounds is gone as well.”

Devon blinked a tear from her eye, hearing
of the tragedies. Only a short while ago she’d served these men
wine, and now they were gone or wounded. It could have been Corbett
who didn’t return. A flash of wild grief surged through her and her
stomach tightened at the thought.

"Where is Malcomn?" asked the baroness. "God
forbid if anything happened to him."

"Malcomn is fine," answered Corbett. “And
quite capable of fending for himself."

"You are injured, son," remarked the baron.
"You need to be tended to immediately.

"Aye." Corbett nodded and then looked toward
the women. "But first I would know what was transpiring when I
entered?"

"This servant," broke in the baroness, "has
totally defied my orders, and luckily I caught her. She was trying
to poison my husband."

“What?” Devon's mouth hung open, not
expecting this false accusation, and not prepared for how to
respond. Mercia stood quietly in the wardrobe doorway, keeping to
herself.

"Is this true?" Corbett's voice was a
combination of anger and disbelief. "Did you deliberately not only
defy the baroness's orders, but try to poison the baron?"

"Well…I…" she lowered her eyes, frantically
biting her lower lip. How could she explain the situation to this
angry man when she did not yet have the proper proof she
needed?

"I found her forcing poor, weak Kenric to
drink a concoction that she herself probably devised. I am sure my
healing herbs have not been given as instructed."

"Well, what do you have to say?" Corbett
stood in front of Devon and she noticed the blood stains on his
boots. Her head spun and she wanted nothing more than to tell him
she was sorry for everything, but didn’t know how to start.

"Look at me," he ordered. "Tell me if this
is true."

Devon slowly raised her eyes to his, seeing
the pain flickering there. The disappointment shown on his face,
and whatever feelings she thought she’d glimpsed in him last night
were now gone.

"I admit to defying the baroness's orders.”
Her spirits sank even lower when she saw the muscle twitch in his
tightened jaw. "I dumped the healing drink into the fire and have
replaced it with one of my own.”

"How could you?" The fragile thread between
them was now shattered. The despair that shone in his eyes thinking
she’d betrayed him, twisted at her own emotions like a knife in the
back. "After I trusted you to take care of the baron. And now this.
You were trying to take his life."

"Nay!” she responded “'Twas not as it
seems."

"She should be punished for this act of
betrayal,” said Gilda with urgency in her voice. “I should think
death the only appropriate sentence."

“Death?” Devon gasped, panic taking control
of her senses, and a knot lodging in her throat. She looked to
Corbett, ready to plead for her life, but he was looking at
Gilda.

"A trial should be scheduled for her at
once," the baroness suggested, "and I am sure you will see that the
punishment fits the crime."

"My dear Yetta would never do such a thing
to hurt me," came the baron's voice from the bed. "Do not punish
her, for I know she has love in her heart."

Gilda shook her head at the baron's last
comment. "My poor husband. If he were in his right mind, he would
sentence the girl himself. ’Tis up to you, Lord Corbett, to see
that the baron is protected and the threat against his life is
dealt with appropriately." She walked up to Corbett and stared him
in the eye. "You don't plan on letting this serving girl get away
with this defiant act, do you? Remember, you have sworn fealty to
the baron.”

Corbett’s throat tightened, and pain
throbbed in his head. Devon stared up at him with wide, innocent
eyes. How could she have done this? Why would she want to poison
the baron? He had to have heard her wrong. He couldn’t bring her to
trial.

The pain in his shoulder was becoming more
unbearable and he wanted nothing more than to get a good sleep. He
hadn't expected this upon his return and wasn't prepared to make
such a decision. He saw the frightened eyes of the poor girl, and
couldn't help but remember that same look in her eyes in his
horrifying dream. She silently cried out to him for help.

"My pain takes hold of my mind so I am
unable to think clearly tonight. I cannot make such a decision this
night.” He headed toward the door.

"You cannot leave her here,” gasped Gilda.
“Who knows what she will attempt next?”

"'Tis true," answered Corbett. "That I
cannot do. Guard!" he called toward the open door. “Escort this
girl to my chamber.”

“But I must tend to the baron,” Devon
objected.

“Nay, you are to stay far from him.” He
noticed the new maidservant peeking out from the wardrobe. “The
other maidservant will tend to his needs. I cannot let you out of
my sight.”

“But what about the trial?" commanded the
baroness.

"I will decide that later. I suggest we all
get some sleep." Turning to Kenric, Corbett bid him a good night.
"Your brother Cedric and some of his men came to our aid in the
forest today. They will be staying for awhile to help secure
Steepleton. I have requested the monastery to house the large
amount of men during their visit."

“Of course,” replied the baron with a yawn.
His eyes closed as he spoke. "Thank God you are all right, my son.
And yes, I would like to see this Cedric whom you say is my
brother."

"Get some rest my good baron," Corbett said
to the pale man. "I am sure your memory will return when you see
your brother tomorrow."

Devon noticed the salve of healing herbs
that filled a bowl next to Corbett's bed, as soon as they entered
the lord's solar. She’d overheard one of Corbett's men telling him
that Heartha had sent up supplies to help aid his wound.

"Would you like me to send up your squire to
assist with your wound?" asked the accompanying guard as he
prepared to leave.

"'Twill not be necessary," answered Corbett
collapsing onto his bed. "I have a maidservant here who will tend
to that."

Devon's eyes opened wide in surprise, as she
had not expected Corbett to say this. She couldn't bring herself to
look at him, and instead stared only at the guard.

"Yes, my lord," the guard answered and
left.

Devon’s interest moved to her surroundings.
The solar was by far the most luxurious place in the entire castle.
Several gilded pillars made their way up to the high, arched
ceiling. The walls were painted in warm, cozy earth tones. The
tall, semi-rounded windows had reminded her of the ones in the
monastery. But these had only a small amount of colored glass at
the very tops, the rest of the opening was covered only by wooden
shutters.

Her eyes were drawn to the raging hot flames
that leapt from the hearth. A decorated hood contained the smoke
before it lazily billowed up the long, tall opening behind. Above
the mantle were several large silver plates and jeweled goblets
which Devon was sure had never held food or drink of any kind.
Several large wooden chests laid strewn about the room, and a tall
enclosed cupboard loomed in one corner.

Devon wandered over to examine a painted
country scene on a ewer and basin that sat near the window.
Colorful tapestries covering every wall seemed to lure her
attention in several directions at once. There were even woven mats
made from rushes, and fur rugs thrown over the interesting
stonework on the floor for extra warmth.

A tall iron stand with several lit candles
flickered near the bed as the room's only light besides that at the
hearth. This room, thought Devon, was not like the harshly lit
chamber of Malcomn's. No, she decided, for this room could almost
seem romantic - to the right couple.

She wandered over to the massive four poster
bed that dominated the room, seeming to lure her closer. Curiously
but cautiously, she reached out a hand to stroke the plush,
luxurious purple velvet curtains that were pushed open around the
bed. Her eye caught Corbett's family crest proudly displayed at the
back wall, almost pointing to the satin sheets and fur covers that
awaited a woman's presence.

She quickly pulled back her hand almost as
if burned when she realized Corbett silently lay watching her from
his lounged position upon his bed. Turning away from him, she
secretly wondered how many women were graced with the pleasures of
knowing first hand how luxurious the bed really was.