The Commander's Desire (26 page)

* * * * *

The Commander had killed two men and battled
the last one. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Elwytha, fighting
valiantly. Only to finish this last one and he would help her. The
warrior’s horse pranced to his left, affording him a quick glance
of Elwytha’s foes. She battled two at once. In all his days, he’d
seen few warriors as valiant as she.

Suddenly, one of her attackers fell back and
a huge, spiked mace spun through the air. Horror slammed through
the Commander. Elwytha’s blade flashed, but not quick enough. The
deadly weapon smashed into her head.

Silently, as if in slow motion, she toppled
from her saddle. Terror seized the Commander.

“
Elwytha!” he roared. He
felt the knick of a blade on his arm and turned on his opponent
with vicious fury. With brute strength he unarmed the man and
finished him. He charged on Elwytha’s foes, wielding his sword with
murderous skill. One fell, and the other, seeing all of his
comrades’ dead bodies littering the ground, turned tail and
galloped south, in the direction of Richard’s castle. In war, the
Commander would have chased and finished him, but not
now.

He wheeled the black back and galloped up to
Elwytha’s still form. Sir Duke stood over her, as if protecting her
with his body. The Commander leaped off his horse and crouched on
the snowy ground.

Elwytha lay silent, her face as white as
death; her body as still as death.

“
Elwytha,” he moaned, and
gathered her lifeless body into his arms. He looked heavenward and
cried out from the depths of his soul, “God Almighty! Please,” he
whispered, and pressed his lips to her hair. “Please!” he groaned
aloud. “Elwytha.”

Tenderly cradling her in his arms, he
staggered to his feet. He didn’t know where to take her. He didn’t
know where he was going. For the first time ever, his battle sharp
mind felt blurry, fogged with grief.

Silently, the horses
followed him. She lay so still, so white in his arms. A ragged sob
wrenched from his throat. “
Annsachd
,” he whispered, and
helplessly kissed her. Warm breath touched his lips.

Warm…breath?

She lived? A great bolt of incredulous joy
energized his soul. She lived? How could it be possible?

Carefully, he examined the matted hair on the
side of her head. Blood had congealed, but no fresh blood flowed.
Holding her with one arm, as a babe, he gently brushed his fingers
over the wound. No crushed bone. Her blade must have deflected more
of the blow than he’d thought. But clearly she was unconscious, and
just as clearly she needed tending. He could not do it here, on
enemy land.

Hope and fear gathered in his heart. She
could still die. She needed rest and warmth, and the wound cleaned.
He would provide it all. Everything she needed. But first they
would need to ride to safety.

He gathered up Sir Duke’s reins and climbed
on the black, holding Elwytha carefully. Then he gave both horses
their head to gallop for home.

Chapter
Sixteen

Elwytha floated
through
the clouds. It was peaceful, and
free of pain. And then she heard a faint roar. A voice. It sounded
familiar. And then she wrenched back to earth. Pain exploded
through her head.

Moaning, she slowly drifted to consciousness.
Something rhythmically bounced her body, worsening the pain.
“Stop,” she mumbled. “Stop!”

“
Elwytha.” It was the
Commander’s voice. It sounded oddly urgent.

Her eyes fluttered open to stare into his
anxious gray ones. He held her in his arms, she realized. More,
they rode a horse. Hence the unbearable bumping.

“
Stop,” she begged. “Please
stop.”

“
Stop?” he sounded
bewildered.

“
The bumping. It hurts,” she
whispered. Tears ran out of her eyes, depositing cold drops in her
ears.

“
We’re not safe. We are
still on your brother’s land.”

Elwytha shut her eyes again. The pain felt an
agony in her head. “How much…longer?”

His arms tightened around her. “I wish to
carry you home, to the Prince’s castle. Where you will be
safe.”

More helpless tears trickled out as the agony
in her head intensified. “I can’t bear it. Please…I can’t.” The
warm blackness of unconsciousness beckoned, and gladly she reached
for it. Her body relaxed, becoming limp, as her mind swam for that
peaceful nothingness.

A low sound wrenched from his chest, tugging
her back to the pain. “Stay with me, Elwytha.” And then she felt
his warm breath as he pressed a kiss into her hair. “I know a
place. Only a half hour distant. Sleep no more. It’s
dangerous.”

“
It is?” she said faintly. A
thought sparked in her brain. “More so than you,
Commander?”

She felt a faint movement of his chest. A
laugh. “Verily, as dangerous as the peace between us.”

She smiled, but the blackness beckoned again.
“Speak to me,” she whispered. “Say anything. Tell me of…your
childhood. Your father.”

She felt him stiffen, and then he relaxed.
“My father is dead.”

With effort, she fought through the blinding
pain to respond, “You knew…who he was?”

“
Yes. I knew.” He sounded
quiet and grim. “He left me a bastard, and married another instead
of my mother.”

“
H’rrible,” she muttered.
“Why?”

A small silence elapsed. “My mother served
him. She was a bastard like me. My father felt she was good enough
to warm his bed, but not to marry.”

“
I’m sorry.”

“
It’s life. I came to accept
it.”

“
He was a noble?” Faintly,
she pressed this out. Conversation was becoming more and more
difficult with the searing, pulsing pain in her head.

“
Noble in title. But he
performed few noble deeds.”

Silence fell, and she found it harder and
harder to combat the darkness.

“
Elwytha?” His voice
wrenched her back yet again from the brink. “Do you
sleep?”

“
Nay,” she whispered feebly.
“Talk…about anything. I can’t…”

So the Commander talked about his childhood.
About the battles he’d fought. His rumble comforted her, as did the
strength of his voice. He would take care of her. She would be all
right. How, she did not know, but surely he would make it so. She
heard the splash as horse hooves traversed a stream. They picked at
a slower pace through the water for a long time. To cover their
tracks, she realized in some deep part of her mind.

After what seemed like hours of agonizing
pain, the Commander’s horse stopped. Elwytha roused herself enough
to cling to his neck as he dismounted. He carried her as easily as
a child in his arms. She heard him knock on wood, and then an old
voice that sounded like creaking branches welcomed them in.

He lay her on a cot. She felt his warm breath
on her cheek and groggily opened her eyes. He said, “Mistress Fern
will attend to your wound. I will see to the horses.”

Elwytha caught at his hand before he could
depart. “Stay,” she begged, terrified, incapable of other
words.

With a glance at the wizened old woman beside
him, he nodded and knelt again beside her.

“
Sip this,” the old voice
creaked.

The Commander helped her lift her head, and
Elwytha swallowed a bitter potion. She wanted to retch, but hadn’t
the energy.

“
That will help the pain,”
scratched the old voice.

Elwytha lay still, suffering through the
gentle cleansing of her wound, and the sting of ointment smoothed
on her scalp.

“
Not bad. Not bad at all,”
cackled the old woman. “I’ve seen worse. Much worse. Rest now, but
don’t sleep.”

Elwytha nodded slightly. Already the pain
felt a tiny bit better. What potion had the old woman given her,
she wondered.

“
Go see to the horses, young
man. She’ll be fine for a spell.”

Elwytha released the Commander’s hand, which
she realized she still held, and heard his boots recede from
hearing.

“
Your betrothed, is he?”
Mistress Fern wanted to know.

“
Yes,” she whispered,
shifting her head slightly to ease the pain.

“
When will you be
married?”

“
Saturday.”

“
Mmhm.” The old woman
cackled. “With rest, you should be up for it. I’ll leave you now,
but no sleeping. We’ll try a nice broth soon.”

The morning drifted by in a haze. Elwytha
scanned the small hut in bits and pieces. It looked clean, with
mended curtains at the windows. Herbs wrapped in string hung from
the ceiling. The old woman must be a healer of some sort.

Elwytha drank broth for lunch, and Fern
seemed pleased she kept it down. The Commander sat across the room
and she felt his frequent glances. He was worried about her, that
was clear enough.

After dinner of a bit of bread and soup, and
application of more ointment, Elwytha’s head felt clearer.

“
You should be ready to
travel tomorrow,” Fern’s old voice scratched. “Drink more of the
potion, so you can sleep.”

The pain had begun to intensify again,
although Elwytha had said nothing. Obediently, she drank the
wretched brew and lay back again. “I can sleep now?”

“
Sleep,” agreed the old
woman. “Tomorrow you will be right as rain.”

Gladly, Elwytha at last relaxed. Only this
time blackness did not call to her. Just the soft comfort of
sleep.

* * * * *

The Commander watched Elwytha slip into
sleep. Peace relaxed her features and at last the worry eased in
his heart.

“
She will be all right?” he
asked Fern.

With an eye roll, the old woman swatted his
arm. “Of course, Commander. Just as you lived to see many a battle.
Fear not.”

Fern had tended him after a fierce battle
years ago. She’d found him prone and bleeding on the forest floor
not far from her cottage, and with her sharp tongue and prodding
stick had provoked him to his feet for the small walk to her hut.
Now, later, he realized he could have died from the deep wound in
his side. But the old lady had healed him. As now she had healed
Elwytha.

“
Thank you,” he said simply.
He could not speak the depth of his gratitude.

“
That’s Princess Elwytha, is
it not?” the old woman inquired, handing him a cup of
tea.

“
Yes.”

She cackled. “And she would marry one such as
you? Mind, I know the soft heart of kitten lives inside your thick
warrior skin. But one as refined as her…and you? Does she
know?”

The Commander felt uncomfortable, and did not
answer directly. “She agreed to marry me for the sake of peace
between our lands.”

“
Did peace administer that
blow to her head? Or your cuts?”

He frowned. “Nay.”

Fern’s dark eyes looked sharp and wise. “Then
why partake of such a treacherous peace?”

He did not answer.

“
You love her. That’s why.”
The old woman cackled, as though satisfied with her keen
insight.

“
Verily, I would have her
for my own.” He would admit no more. But who was he fooling?
Certainly not Fern. And certainly not himself. “Peace is still
possible, with careful steps,” he contended. “King Richard claims I
killed Thor. Once that dispute is settled, peace will be
possible.”

“
Who will tell the
girl?”

The Commander understood what the discerning
old woman meant. “She will find out on her own.”

“
Who will tell her who
killed her brother?” the old woman pressed obstinately.

“
I will not. The truth must
come from someone she trusts.”

“
Not you, Commander? Would
you build a marriage on so shaky a foundation?”

He looked at Elwytha, sleeping peacefully. “I
build the foundation one stone at a time.”

“
Is she willing?”

Fear and dread tightened like a vise around
his heart. “I do not know,” he said quietly.

The old woman patted his hand. “You deserve
the best, lad. Don’t ever forget it. If your kingdom would be her
heart, God grant you your one, dearest wish.”

* * * * *

Elwytha awoke the next morning feeling much
better. Pain still ached in her head, but it compared not at all to
yesterday. Mistress Fern pronounced herself pleased with the
healing of the wound, and said Elwytha was well enough to ride.
After partaking of a meager breakfast of bread and tea, Elwytha
climbed atop Sir Duke in the crisp air, cloak about her.

“
Thank you,” she told Fern.
“I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t been here to
help us.”

The Commander agreed. “Your kindness will not
be forgotten.”

Fern smiled. Her scratchy voice said, “The
best thanks would be your happiness.” She said this to the
Commander, but her smile included Elwytha. “Blessings be upon you
and the family you will have.”

Elwytha felt a catch in her heart and glanced
quickly at the Commander. Who knew if their marriage would take
place…let alone if she would bear him children.

His eyes smiled, settling on Elwytha, as if
pleased with Fern’s prediction. “Are you ready?”

“
Don’t forget the herbs if
the pain returns,” Fern admonished. She patted Elwytha’s leg. “Many
happy days, child.” The dark eyes flickered with compassion. “Faint
not.”