Archangel (38 page)

“Come in, Rom,” he encouraged softly. “Your mother is fine. She is simply exhausted.”

Dressed in soft cotton hose and a long-sleeved white cotton tunic that was too big for him, Romney came into the room, eyeing his mother.  He finally sat down next to Gart, his young face serious with concern.

“Mama?” he said softly. “Are you still sick?”

“Still?” Gart’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean still sick?”

Emberley was calmer as she lifted her head from Gart’s shoulder, her red-rimmed gaze moving between Romney and Gart.

“Nothing to worry over,” she told Gart softly. “My belly has been upset.”

Gart looked seriously at her. “Should I send for a physic?”

She leaned into his ear. “My belly always aches when I am with child,” she whispered. “Romney does not know that.”

Gart cleared his throat softly, almost nervously, hoping Romney had not heard his mother.  He smiled at the boy, perhaps a bit too brightly, which looked out of place on his serious face.

“Your mother is fine,” he told the lad. “It is time for you to go to bed now. We will speak in the morning.”

Romney didn’t move. He continued to sit next to Gart, his big blue eyes moving between the knight and his mother.

“You killed my father’s men,” he finally said to Gart.

Gart’s gaze was steady on the boy. “I had no choice, Rom. They were taking you and your mother to London to be with your father.  I did it to save you both.”

Romney chewed on that statement, the wheels of thought turning in his smart young brain. “If I had my sword, I could have helped you.”

Gart smiled faintly. “You will be a fine knight someday. I will be proud to serve with you.”

Romney blinked. “You will?”

“Of course.”

“But you serve someone else, that baron who was with my father when you first came to Dunster.”

Gart’s smile grew. “That is Sir David de Lohr, Baron Thornden. His brother is the Earl of Hereford and the earl happens to be downstairs at this very moment. The earl is a very powerful man. He was friends with King Richard the Lionheart.”

Romney looked interested. “Did he fight the savages in the Holy Land?”

Gart nodded. “Both David and the earl fought in the Holy Land, as did your Uncle Erik and I. That was where we met.”

Romney grew excited. “Did you and Uncle Erik know the king?”

“We did,” Gart replied. “I will tell you all about it someday.”

Romney nodded eagerly.  He seemed to be thinking very hard about something, his young brow furrowed in concentration.

 He slid off the bed and wandered towards the hearth where the big tub of cold bathwater still sat and the phials of mysterious oils and soaps. He inspected everything, absently, his mind on other things. He had so much to say and wasn’t sure how to express himself adequately. All he knew was that there was great turmoil in his young life and all of it centered around his father.  When Gart was near, everything was happy and joyful. He loved Gart. But when his father was around, the circumstances were miserable and frightening. He hated his father.

Gart and Emberley watched Romney wander near the hearth, carefully picking up the glass phials of oils and inspecting them carefully. He was, if nothing else, a curious and thorough child. Sufficiently calm now that she was in Gart’s embrace, Emberley sighed faintly and laid her head back against his shoulder.

“He has been very brave over the past few days,” she whispered. “He never complained once.”

Gart watched the boy pick up a bar of soap and smell it. “He is a fine lad,” he murmured. “You have raised him well.”

A grin spread across her lips. “That is not what you first thought when he robbed you at Dunster.”

He thought back to that day. It seemed so long ago.  “I must give credit to a lad who would rob someone three times his size,” he smirked. “Did he continue to try and rob Lord de Lara after I left?”

She laughed softly.  “I am not going to tell you.”

“Why not?”

She sat up, looking at him with a grin. “Because you threatened to tan his buttocks if he continued and I do not think he should be punished.”

Gart lifted an eyebrow. “I told him not to rob the viscount.”

She curled up on his lap, arms around his neck and stroking his face. “The viscount loved every minute of it, as do you,” she said softly. “He is a good boy, clever and happy. You are helping to ensure that. Even in the brief time he has known you, you have taught him much.”

She knew how to soften him. He let the subject of Romney’s disobedience go, swept up in the warmth and adoration flowing between them as she stroked his face and gently kissed his jaw. 

“Can I get out of my armor now?” he asked softly, closing his eyes as she kissed his chin.

Emberley nodded and climbed off his lap, still wrapped up in the enormous linen towel.  She wrapped it all around her arms and shoulders, completely covering up as she approached her wandering son, who was now inspecting the finely painted wall with a meadow scene.

“Rom,” she said softly. “Go to bed now. We have had a busy day.”

Romney turned to his mother, seeing that she seemed much better than she had only minutes earlier. He knew it was because of Gart.  He took her outstretched hand and allowed her to lead him towards the adjoining chamber.

“When will Orin and Brendt come here?” he wanted to know.

Gart, over by the bed as he removed his armor, heard the question.  “I am sending someone to retrieve them tomorrow,” he told the boy. “You need not worry. They will be here soon and we will all be together again.”

Romney paused at the door that led into the dark bed chamber beyond. His eyes were on Gart. “And then what will happen?”

Gart peeled off his hauberk and tossed it into the corner. “And then we will happy.  Beyond that, I cannot tell you more.”

Romney grew serious. He let go of his mother’s hand and went to Gart as the man stripped off his mail coat.

“But what of my father?” he wanted to know. “He sent for us to be with him in London. What will happen when we do not come and he knows we are with you?”

Gart faced the boy, contemplating the question. “I am working on a solution to that problem,” he told him honestly. “Baron Thornden and the earl are helping me.  That is what we were speaking of downstairs. They are smart and powerful men.  They can help us find a solution.”

Romney wasn’t entirely convinced. “But how can we be with you if my mother and father are married? He will want us with him. He will not let us stay with you and I want to stay with you.”

“You will have to trust that everything will work out in the end.  Great men are working hard to help us.”

“But do they know I do not want to be with my father? I want to be with you.”

Before Gart could continue the conversation, Emberley took his hand again and pulled him back towards his bedchamber.

“We will speak more of this tomorrow,” she said softly, firmly. “It is time for bed now.”

Romney let his mother take him to bed and tuck him in.  She kissed him and smiled at him, making sure to leave a small taper lit as she closed the door softly so he wouldn’t be in total darkness.  He lay still and obedient until she shut the door.

Then, he climbed out of bed.  He was a man on a mission.

Chapter Twenty One

With Romney in bed, Emberley moved back into her chamber and made sure to bolt the door that led out to the corridor.  The room was lit only by a glowing fire in the hearth, casting dancing shadows on the walls, as she made her way back over to the bed where Gart was stripping off his sweaty, dirty tunic.  Lady Emilie had lain out the lamb’s wool shift and delicate yellow robe and she fingered them distractedly, thinking on her son.

“He has so many questions,” she said quietly. “When I hear him speak to you, I am reminded of the time you told me that he wants very much to become a man. He is trying so hard to grow up.”

Gart nodded as he unlaced his breeches and slid them off his big frame. “Indeed he is,” he replied. “I told you that you must let the child become a man.”

“I am trying.”

“I know you are.”

As Emberley pushed aside thoughts of her son and began to inspect the quality of the shift, Gart made his way over to the tub. He climbed into the big copper pot and sloshed water over the sides. Emberley gasped when she saw what he was doing.

“The water is cold,” she pointed out the obvious. “Do you not want hot water?”

He began splashing water over his head and neck, sputtering when it ran over his mouth. “This will do,” he held out a hand. “Will you please give me the soap bar?”

She went over to the table and picked up the lumpy bar that smelled of flowers. “You are going to smell like a woman.”

“It is better than smelling like a rotted corpse.”

She giggled as she put the soap in his hand. “Very well,” she said. “But if men start flirting with you, I will only laugh at your misfortune.”

Eyes still closed, he grinned as he lathered up his scalp and neck. “You are a cruel woman.”

She giggled as she made her way back to the bed, dropping the big linen towel in favor of the lamb’s wool.  It fit her snugly but comfortably, and she donned the yellow robe over that.  Lady Emilie had left a large bone comb as well as a few other toiletries, and she ran the comb through her hair repeatedly as she watched Gart bathe.  Now that he was here, she was fully calm and settled. The situation was feeling normal again, alone in a world with no Julian, only Gart.  He was the center of everything.

She took a stool by the hearth and combed her hair to dry it against the heat from the fire.  When Gart finished soaping and rinsing, he opened his eyes to find her sitting there, looking like an angel in her yellow dressing gown and silky blond hair. The glow of the fire behind her gave her a halo appearance, glowing all around her body. Rinsing off the last of the soap, he smiled at her, feeling so incredibly fortunate to have her with him again.

“I have missed you, kitten,” he said softly. “Every minute of the days and nights that we were separated were filled with thoughts of you.  Have you been well?”

She returned his smile as she combed through her hair, the color returning to her cheeks in the warmth of the blaze. “I have been very well but I have missed you terribly,” she replied. “The boys were lonely for you also.  They had no one to play with.”

He chuckled softly, looking around for the big linen towel and seeing that it was draped neatly on a chair near the bed.  He stood up, water sloshing off his big body and on to the floor as he climbed out of the tub in his quest for the damp towel that Emberley had used.

“You would not tell me what they did to Lord de Lara,” he grabbed the towel and began rubbing it across his legs. “I would suspect he served well in my place as an object of their aggression.”

She smiled in agreement but that smile soon faded. “I miss my babies,” she murmured. “They were terribly frightened when Julian’s escort came for us.”

Gart wasn’t going to bring up the subject of the escort just yet, but since she did, he took her lead.