Heart's War (Heart and Soul) (10 page)

Although her father had stressed having the wedding take place as soon as possible after receiving Longshanks’
s approval, Rose had to schedule it at least a fortnight from their betrothal. The priest had posted the banns and Rose sent copies to Brynmor’s nobles. With Longshanks’s blessing of the alliance, Brynmor’s nobles opened their gates to the refugees, which helped reduce the burden but didn’t eliminate it. Although Mortimer kept his promise and passed through Powys peaceably, Gloucester moved through southern Wales and refugees streamed north to escape him.

The number of wounded in the great hall had been drastically reduced but not enough that they could host a wedding revel and feast
there.

Her father had promised aid from Montgomery but Marcus reported
they were struggling. Longshanks made great demands on his vassals, requesting men, weapons, and supplies for his own army. Marcus was at wit’s end trying to balance everything. Her father’s powerful temper flared more often. Longshanks and Mortimer had told him he was to stand strong and hold the border. He could not do that with Longshanks bleeding him dry.

While in the great hall, Rose heard the cry of the sentries. She moved quickly to a loophole and looked to the gates. She frowned when she realized it was a herald leading a large wagon with guardsmen surrounding it.

Brynmor stopped working and hurried to greet him. Rose quickly surmised he knew the man.

****

Brynmor’s long stride closed the distance. He recognized the herald as the same one who had brought Longshanks’s scroll to him; he was riding the horse Brynmor had given him. The previous horse remained in Brynmor’s stables, now well rested and healthy.

“
Lord Powys!” the herald called, grinning broadly. He dismounted and bowed, but his smile did not fade. “I bring good tidings. His Majesty was greatly pleased to hear of the work you have been doing here and the Christian charity you’ve shown.” He gestured to the wagon that continued to the center of the bailey, still surrounded by guardsmen. “He was most happy to provide you with much-needed supplies. His only regret was that he was unable to send more.”

Brynmor looked to the wagon, feeling as if a part of the weight upon his shoulders eased. “My thanks to my liege and to you
, herald, for conveying our need to him.”

The herald bowed again.

“Come,” Brynmor said, allowing a smile to pull at his lips. “We must still sit under the pavilion, but at least with the arrival of this gift, I can offer you the food and refreshment you deserve. You and the guardsmen are welcome to stay the night.”

“Thank you,
my lord. I also need to discuss something with you.”

“Aye?”

“The mount you granted me,” he said, his hand falling on the horse’s neck. “Is one of the finest coursers I have ever ridden. I’d like to discuss purchasing him from you.”

This time Brynmor’s smile truly escaped. Montgomery was renowned for raising and training the best destriers
for the highest ranking knights and nobles. But when it came to coursers and hunters, Brynmor’s stables held that honor. The horse the herald wanted wasn’t even his best.

“Aye, herald,” Brynmor said. “I am willing to entertain an offer.”

“Excellent. I’m sure you realize His Majesty places a great demand on his heralds right now, and good horses are always in need.”

Brynmor arched an eyebrow. The herald spoke truly and an idea blossomed in Brynmor’s mind. Powys needed a way to ease the burden created by the refugees. If he could sell his coursers to heralds, he might find a way to counter that burden.

****

Ten days before their wedding,
Rose found herself returning to the bailey slowly. It seemed that even more people streamed through the gates. Although Powys boasted a huge bailey and found success as a trading center during times of peace, it was now overcrowded with refugees. Many in the bailey were not wounded but people who had lost their homes in the war and had nowhere else to go. Rose also included these people at the same time she managed the wounded. At least they were able to work and lend a hand with various labors. But after her terrifying incident, Rose found herself almost claustrophobic in the bailey.

Yet she could not avoid it entirely. So when she was forced into the bailey
, she took comfort in noting Brynmor was never far away.

Startled
shouts caught her attention. She looked around and saw one of the wagon horses, lunging and kicking. Brynmor and several men ran toward the beast. Normally docile, the large wagon horses were bred for heavy labor, unlike the high-spirited destriers. But with so many people in the bailey, there were numerous things that could spook a horse, and with so many people, a terrified horse so large and strong could seriously injure or kill someone.

The spooking horse reared violently, destroying the leather straps of the harness attaching
it to the second horse hitched to the wagon. The second animal, although fearful, thankfully did not panic. The first horse continued to lunge, trying to escape from the wagon and harness binding him. Its terror increased and it whinnied, then suddenly went down in a tangle of leather straps and the wooden hitch of the wagon.

It thrashed and struggled
, trying to rise again. Rose froze in terror as she saw Brynmor running to the beast. He used his great strength to hold the horse down, controlling its head so it could not rise. Its giant hooves thrashed and kicked.
Dear God, protect him!
her thoughts screamed. The other men ran to the second horse, quickly cutting the leather straps that bound it to its partner and led it away.

Unfortunately, this seemed to terrify the first horse even more. Despite Brynmor pinning its head, the animal lunged with such force that Brynmor
was lifted from his feet. The horse slid, its legs splaying outward, then shot upward again. It threw its head, striking Brynmor in the face. Brynmor's grip shifted and he lost his balance, pulling the entangled horse back down with him. The animal squealed in terror then collapsed, landing on its side, on top of Brynmor.

Rose's heart threatened to stop. “Brynmor!” she cried
, sprinting to him.

The horse thrashed its legs then finally rolled off of Brynmor
, but because of the tangled harness, it still could not rise. It lunged a second time and fell back onto Brynmor.

Her father caught her by the arm. “Rose, stay back, let me get the horse first.” He drew one of his large daggers as two other men stepped forward, trying to control the beast.

Montgomery quickly severed the tangled harness straps and the two men hauled it away from Brynmor. It lunged and kicked, its hooves narrowly missing Brynmor's head.

Rose hurried to his side. “Brynmor?”

He tried to sit up, his nose bloody and his eyes unnaturally wide. He blinked, trying to focus his vision, but seemed wildly disoriented.

Rose placed her hands on his shoulders
. “Brynmor, cease,” she said calmly but firmly. “Brynmor, look at me.”

He cast about him then sagged back into the dirt. “Rose?”

“Aye, Brynmor, I need you to hold still.”

He reached for her, blinking furiously.

She caught his hand and gently smoothed the hair from his face. “Peace, Brynmor, lie still.”

He settled slightly and Rose took the opportunity to check him for injuries. His nose was broken and no doubt added to his disorientation. She checked his ribs, glad they appeared to be whole. But then she probed his stomach on his left side and he recoiled violently.

“Oh God,” she whispered. She continued to gently probe and fought against the fear that surged within her. The injury involved his entire left side. Worry settled in the pit of her belly and tears blurred her eyes. She battled to remember one of Gwen's earliest instructions to her regarding healing, and strangely enough, it had been over Brynmor. When he had brought her home, he had taken fever from a festering sword wound. Rose had learned to control her emotions because Brynmor had become extremely agitated when he thought she was upset.

“Rose?” h
er father said softly and gripped her shoulder.

No matter her effort she couldn't stop the tears pushing into her eyes as she looked up at him. “I think he's bleeding
badly inside, Papa.”

Montgomery
's jaw tightened as he gazed down at the young man who was to be his son-by-law. “Get him to the solar,” he said to the men gathering around their injured earl. “And for the love of God, be careful.”

Rose called Gwen to the solar to hear her mother's thoughts on Brynmor's injuries. But Rose found herself growing more distraught and had to leave the room lest her fear agitate Brynmor.

Her father followed her out. “Rose?”

“I'm sorry, Papa,” she said
, her tears finally breaking free. “The injury is large and he is bleeding badly. All we can do is try to minimize his pain. He will either improve or die in a few days.”

He gazed at her a long moment and Rose knew he saw the fear plain on her face. He pulled her in to his arms. “
’Twill be all right, Rose.”

The door flew open. “Rose,” Gwen said sharply. “Get in here.”

Quickly scrubbing the tears from her eyes, Rose ran into the room only to discover Brynmor trying to rise from the bed and calling her name.

“Nay, Brynmor,” she said hurrying to his side. “Please, you must be still.”

He continued to struggle to focus his vision. “Rose?”

“Aye,” she said, smoothing his hair from his face. “It's all right, you need to lie back. Please.”

“Where . . . where are we?”

“We're safe, Bryn, we're at Powys.”

“Nay,” he said sharply. “I promised to take you home.” Again he struggled to rise.

“Bryn, I am home
 . . . I'm here, with you.”

Her words
seemed to confuse him, but he allowed her to settle him back to bed.

“Rose,” Gwen said softly
, handing her a cup. “This will hopefully ease his pain and make him rest.”

Rose nodded and held the cup to Brynmor's lips, relieved
when he drank it without question. She continued to sit with him, gently soothing him, waiting for the herbs to take effect. He seemed to relax as she spoke and Rose hoped the draught would work quickly.

****

“Rose,” Brynmor's voice called softly.

She lifted her head and winced as the muscles in her neck protested. She had fallen asleep at his bedside. Rose looked up at him, hoping to see improvement
, but his eyes remained glazed and his face had turned a terrible ashen gray. The bruising beneath both eyes from his broken nose appeared darker and he had developed a large discoloration on his side right below his ribs. He gazed at her in confusion.

“I'm here, Bryn,” she said softly, taking his hand in hers.

“Where are we?” he asked again.

“We're safe, we're at home.” She quickly discovered if she did not specify their location, he seemed to settle more rapidly. But she feared for him
—his disorientation seemed to grow worse each time he awoke. The lines on his face deepened. She did not understand why, but each time he awoke it seemed his memory had gone back to the time when he had rescued her from her abductors.

“We can't stay, Rose. We must keep moving.” He tried to move and groaned in pain.

“Nay,” she said firmly, pushing him back into bed. “Please Brynmor, don't move. We are safe.”

His head fell back onto the pillow, his face ashen. H
e scowled. “Did you drug my herbals again, little one?”

She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. “I'm not little anymore.” A tear managed to slide down her cheek.

His hand trembled as he wiped the tear from her skin. “You will always be my little one.”

For some rea
son, his endearment didn't irritate her as it usually did. “I did drug your herbals again, but only because you are in pain.”

“But I vowed to take you home.”

“You did Brynmor. Don't you remember? You brought me home safe. Now you stand as the Earl of Powys. We are to be married.”

“Married?” His scowl deepened but then his expression relaxed as he gazed at her, his blue-green eyes glazed with pain and the effects of the medicants. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered.

Rose smiled, fighting even harder to keep her tears at bay.

His trembling fingers continued to stroke her cheek, his touch soft and gentle. Gradually
, his eyes closed and his hand dropped away. Fear clawed at Rose. His breathing was much too shallow.

“Please Bryn,” she murmured
, but he had slipped back into unconsciousness.

****

Rose clung to Brynmor's hand, fighting valiantly against her tears, but they streamed down her cheeks no matter her effort. Brynmor no longer responded to her voice and he fought for each breath. She wanted to sob her anguish, she wanted to plead with Brynmor to hear her, but she knew he was losing the battle for his life.