Chapter 30

30

R ennwick came slowly awake. His head was pounding, his arms felt like they had weighted sacks strapped around each wrist. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to try to move the wad of dry fleece in his mouth that he assumed was his tongue. And when he opened his eyes, light and shadows immediately spun together in a sickening blur.

He squeezed his eyelids tightly shut again, and it helped a little. But his whole world was still moving up and down, side to side. Above the drumming in his head he could hear the sound of rushing water, and as he flared his nostrils to draw a breath, he nearly vomited from the pungent smell of something foetid and rotten.

He moved his hands away from his sides and discovered he was laying in what felt like a wooden coffin with high sides and a thin layer of straw ticking beneath him.

Was he dead? Was this what death felt like?

There were other sounds… muffled, indistinct, echoing as if through a long hollow tunnel.

Voices. They were voices. He concentrated, focussed, and braced himself to open his eyes again just as the voices came closer.

"I think he is awake. Or trying to be. Renn? Renn, can you hear me?"

Terrowin's voice.

Renn tried to unstick his lips and a sound like the wail of a newborn kitten came out of his throat. Almost instantly, a cool wet cloth was dabbed over his lips and he sucked at the moisture desperately.

An equally cool, smooth hand was laid across his brow.

"No fever yet. A good sign."

"Good sign of what?" he croaked.

"Of you rejoining the living," Ellyn said. "Roger worried perhaps I had steeped too much dwale in the posset to help you sleep, and that you might not wake up at all."

"Is that what has caused the foul taste in my mouth?"

"No, that would be the other elixir Ellyn mixed up to restore your blood," Terrowin said. "And it would be best if you did not ask what she put in it. Suffice it to say the crew stays well away from the cabin when she is brewing it."

"Crew?"

"We are on board the Folentyne and have been for the past three days."

"Three days?" Renn foolishly sought to push himself upright but a white-hot stab of agony in his left arm sent him flopping back down. With the pain came the memories. The perilous climb down the cliff, the fight with de Vos. "Did everyone make it away safely?"

"We did. As you thought, the captain could not bring his vessel into the smaller bay, the currents were too strong, the seas too rough from the storm. He landed some men further north and they found us moments after you dispatched de Vos to hell. "

"It was Ellyn," Renn croaked. "Ellyn dispatched him. I would be dead now if not for her."

"I would have done it much sooner," she said, "and spared you three days of drifting in and out of the netherworld had you not cut the string on my bow. Moreover, you were lucky I did not miss him and shoot you instead with that wretched contraption. No wonder your archers lose battles. Your French crossbow is twice as heavy as an English one."

Renn smiled weakly. "Ellyn the Archer nearly missed a shot? From ten paces away?"

She glared a moment then leaned in closer and scowled. "I believe you are in want of more of my posset. Your tongue appears to have detached itself from your brainbox."

Terrowin, who had been grinning happily at the exchange, sobered quickly and backed away from the cot. "Ah, Captain Giddings is hoping to sight the French coast before nightfall. I believe I shall go and loan him my keen eyesight."

"Wait… where are the others?"

"Baldor has been stalking the ship's cook and Roger is… well, Roger is with Bethy somewhere. Doing something. I know not what and I do not ask." He touched a forefinger to his brow and hastened out of the tiny cabin leaving Ellyn and Rennwick alone.

"I would prefer a stoup of ale," he said after the silence stretched and the tension began to vibrate like a bowstring.

She stared another long moment then moved away.

The world had stopped spinning and Renn was able to glance around without having to fight against the nausea. The cabin was small. There were wood beams overhead supporting the deck above, wood planks on the floor, wood panels on the wall that was curved outward with the shape of the ship's hull. The berth he was in was barely long enough and wide enough to lay in, with one side hinged to the bulkhead and the other suspended on thick ropes so it could be swung up and away if necessary.

There was a three-legged stool in one corner of the cabin and a small iron brazier in the other with a black pot sitting over the grate. A five-sided lantern hung from an overhead beam, the light it cast swaying back and forth with the movement of the ship. There was no porthole, no way to know if it was day or night. The rushing sound, he realized, was water flowing past the hull as the ship cut through the sea.

He shifted on the hard boards to test the sources of the aches and pains on his body. Aside from the burning in his arm, there was pain in his thigh, tightness in his ribs and ‘god's day' messages from half a dozen other cuts and bruises on his torso and legs. He managed to get his right arm working and lifted the edge of the wool blanket to see the thick wad of bandaging wrapped around the upper half of his left arm. He flexed the fingers of that hand, relieved to see they still worked. The pain was severe, but he had suffered worse.

He was also completely naked under the blanket.

Ellyn returned to the berth with a wooden cup. She slipped a hand beneath him to support his head and neck enough for him to take a few sips.

It was mead and it tasted sweet and strong and heaven-sent. He gulped at more as it washed away the sour fur that was coating his mouth.

"Slowly," she cautioned, taking the cup away for a few breaths, "or you will see it again all over the blanket."

She brought the cup back and he took small, dutiful sips, watching her face all the while .

Ellyn's voice was cool and detached, and she managed to avoid his gaze completely. "One of the crew stitched the deepest wounds on your arm and thigh. Both will hurt like the devil for a few days but you should recover your strength without noticeable damage. If Baldor has left any food in the galley, you would do well to eat as much red meat as you are able. You lost a great deal of blood."

The light from the lantern turned her hair into a shining halo of wisps and strands that escaped her braid. Her eyes had never looked so crystal-clear blue as they eluded his, nor had the lines of tight displeasure around her mouth been so obvious.

"I sense you are angry with me."

"Why should I be angry?"

"Indeed, why should you be?"

She met his gaze with a look of scorn. "You used me to lure de Vos out of camp then put all of us in peril just to satisfy your petty need for revenge."

"It is not as simple as that. Nor was it petty."

"Roger told me about the tournament and the circumstances surrounding how he lost his foot. Thus, I would have thought his need for revenge would have been greater than yours."

"Did he also tell you that a good many men lost their lives that day? Men who served under my command, who called me captain and had followed me into the hell of battle, trusting me to get them through it alive… only to be slain in what should have been a harmlessly celebratory brawl at a tournament, waving their wooden swords like hapless farmboys while de Vos's men cut them down with steel."

He tried to sit up again and slumped back down, cursing. This time Ellyn did not try to help him, nor did her expression change or soften.

"Did Roger know your plan?"

Renn hesitated. "I was going to tell him, but…"

"Baldor or Terrowin?"

"No. No, they did not know."

"Because they all would have told you it was foolish and reckless and they would have stopped you."

"Possibly." Her eyes drilled into him and he sighed. "Probably. Yes."

The silence stretched out again.

"You promised me that I could trust you," she said softly. "I asked you for honesty and you promised me that too. For a man who places such a high value on his vows of honor, you break the ones you make to me quite easily. I can only assume that you still do not trust me ."

She shoved the cup into his hand and started to walk away. She almost made it to the cabin door when he bit off another curse. "It was not you I did not trust. It was me."

Her hand was on the latch, but she stopped and turned her head slightly. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means… I would not have been able to go through with it if you had been by my side. It was already distracting enough knowing you were on the beach. Having you beside me would have put us both in grave danger."

"I could have helped."

"You helped when you shot those two guardsmen. That told me de Vos had not come alone as he had agreed."

"And you believed him? You walked straight into the trap he set believing a cur like Luther de Vos would honor his word? Were you dropped on your head as a child?"

"Not that I am aware. But yes, I agree it does sound a little mad now. "

She opened the door and walked out into the gloom of the corridor, scoffing as she did. "A little?"

"I would offer as an excuse that a man in love does not necessarily think with a clear head," he muttered.

Seconds ticked by before Ellyn reappeared in the shadowy doorway.

"What did you say?"

"I… ah, I agreed with you. I said: now that I think on it, the plan was a little mad."

"No. The other part."

Renn had not expected her to hear ‘the other part' and had not even been aware of saying it out loud. To his credit, he made no effort to deny the slip. "I suppose I could blame it on the mead, but that would not explain why my heart pounds in my throat every time I see you. Or the way my blood sings even when you challenge my patience or defy me. Of course, it could also be that you have simply bewitched me, since you have threatened to cast spells on me several times and turn me into a toad or a worm."

She frowned. "I am not that kind of witch."

Rennwick smiled. "Indeed. Then what kind of enchantress are you, Enndolynn Ware, for you have managed to work some manner of magic on me."

Ellyn nibbled lightly on her lower lip. She saw the humor in his eyes and knew he would not believe a truthful answer now if she gave it. Instead, she mirrored his wry smile and returned to stand by the side of the berth.

"I am the kind of witch who puts dwale in your mead to put you back to sleep so that when you waken again, you will think this conversation was just a dream."

She reached out to take the cup from his hand but before she could pull away, his strong fingers wrapped around her wrist. "If I do that, promise me you will tell me it was not a dream."

She laid her free hand flat on his chest and a moment later watched as his eyelids dropped and grew so heavy he could not keep them open any longer. Gently, she pried her wrist out of his grip and leaned over, pressing a kiss to his cheek as she whispered, "I promise… I will tell you only what you wish to hear."

The next time Rennwick woke, the pounding in his head had dulled somewhat, but he still felt dizzy if he turned his head too fast or if the people in the cabin were arguing loudly enough to wake the Devil himself.

"Could you please… stop shouting," he croaked.

The voices faded to silence and a shadowy figure moved closer to the berth.

"We were barely speaking above a whisper," Roger said, his voice seeming to be at the same level as the shouting moments before. "Your head took a good cracking, amongst your other injuries, so I imagine everything you hear is likened to a shout now that the blood has drained from your ears."

"Where are we?"

"We are still on board the Folentyne ."

"I thought… did I not hear Terrowin say a few moments ago that the ship was close to land?"

"That was two days ago. We have been docked in Calais since mid-morning. We have also made contact with Sabinius's man at the Red Fox. M'sieur Rousseau was not pleased to hear of our change in plans, but—"

"Wait. What change in plans?"

"The original intent, as you know, was to land in Calais and ride overland to Dijon. Since you can barely lift your head off the board, let alone sit a horse, we have decided on an alternate plan: to sail on to Le Havre and travel down the Seine by barge. It will take a few days longer, but you will have that much more time to recover from your wounds."

"Who told you I was not fit enough to ride?"

"No one had to tell me, Renn. I have eyes."

"Then you are blind as well as lame, for I am perfectly able to sit on a damned horse."

Roger backed up a step and crossed his arms over his chest. "Fine. If you think you can mount a horse and ride for a sennight, stand up and we can be on our way."

Sheer stubborn will gave Rennwick enough strength to throw the blanket aside, but as soon as he heaved himself upward, using his wounded arm to provide leverage, the pain shot through him like a bolt of lightning. The cabin took a violent spin and stars began to dance in front of his eyes. He flailed a moment but got no further than sending another shaft of pain up his arm before he flopped heavily back onto the hard berth.

Roger pursed his lips. "As I said, since it was obvious the only way you could stay on a horse was to be tied across its back like a sack of turnips, we thought a barge would be the better option. Of course, we could leave you here in Calais and go on to Dijon without you."

Renn glared. He was panting, his face was flushed, and the bandage on his arm that had been reasonably white now had dots of red seeping through the linen.

"How much longer?"

"As soon as Rousseau comes aboard, we will leave Calais. From here to Le Havre should be nor more than a day if the winds favor us."

"Where is Rousseau now? "

"He had to change his arrangements as well, but he will be on board before the sun sets and in time to catch the tide as it flows out."

Renn frowned trying to clear his head enough to think. "How long by barge from Le Havre to Dijon?"

"According to Rousseau, the barge can only take us as far as Langres before there are too many sandbars and shallows. By then, however, you should be strong enough to sit a horse… or if not, we can put you in a cart and roll you along."

Renn's eyes narrowed. He recalled having a similar conversation with Roger shortly after he had lost the foot and spent the next few weeks drowning in ale and self-pity. Renn had given the wounded knight the option of being tied on his horse… like a sack of turnips… or thrown into a dung cart and dragged behind them.

"You are enjoying this," he murmured.

"The tables turn so seldom," Roger said easily. "Although I would argue that ‘enjoying' is a rather harsh term. Simply said, you damn near lost your arm and you need time to heal. If you want to be bitter about it, so be it, but there was a choice to be made and we made it for the good of everyone concerned. And yes, everyone had a say in the decision and everyone agreed the added delay was worth the risk."

Renn caught sight of movement over Roger's shoulder and saw Ellyn standing well back in the shadows.

"If everyone is so agreeable, what were you two arguing about?"

"We were not arguing," Ellyn said. "There was nothing to argue about. We all agreed, as Roger said."

Renn sighed and rubbed his temple. "The delay increases the danger twofold. Falconard would have known within the hour that we escaped, and moreover that we escaped by sea. We have perhaps a day or two before a fast courier carries the news to London and from there to the seacoast. The king has spies in every port on both sides of the Channel and they will be watching every ship that comes and goes. With Calais being the obvious choice of ports to land, I pray to God none of you were foolish enough to show yourself up on deck."

Roger and Ellyn exchanged a glance.

"As it happens, that… might have been what we were discussing when you awakened," Roger said.

Ellyn stepped forward into the halo of light cast by the lantern. Her hair was loose and glowed so brightly it made Renn's eyes hurt.

"I needed willowbark," she said, "as well as garlic and bishopwort to ease your pain and help you sleep; mugwort and honey to ward off putrefaction in your wounds. None of those things were available on board a ship that smuggles wool and Scottish uisque baugh ," Ellyn explained. "One of the crew told me there was an apothecary shop a short distance from the waterfront. I was barely gone a full hour."

"The pain of a wound I can tolerate. The pain of having endured all of this for naught if you were seen—!"

"I was careful."

Renn ground his teeth. "God spare me and tell me you did not go alone."

"Terrowin went with me. We had hoods and capes. No one took any special notice of us."

"What did you use to pay the apothecary?"

Ellyn hesitated and frowned. "Terrowin paid him a few marks. It was not much."

Rennwick sighed again. "A man with bright red hair and a face full of freckles, in the company of a woman with bright blue eyes and silver hair paying a French apothecary with Frankish coins and you think no one would take any notice?"

Ellyn clenched her hands into fists by her side. "I never wanted to leave England in the first place. I never wanted to come to France, never wanted to go to Burgundy to meet with some old woman I know not and care not one wit about. If buying a few herbs to keep you from screaming in pain while you sleep, or keep the ship's carpenter from having to saw off a suppurated arm, is such a horrid, dreadful thing, then damn you Rennwick de Beauvoir. Damn you to hell and gone."

She left the cabin in a swirl of anger, slamming the door with enough force to send a spray of debris flying out of the cracks between the boards.

Roger found her up on deck. She was standing at the deckrail watching the dark water flow past the hull as the Folentyne glided out of the harbor. There was a lingering purplish haze in the sky to the west, signifying the late hour, and a smattering twinkle of lights beginning to come to life on the waterfront.

Roger said nothing for a few minutes, seeming content to watch the wharfs and forest of ships masts shrink behind them.

"If you are going to condemn him to hellfire, you must needs condemn me as well, because the point of my anger was the same as his. You could have sent Terrowin ashore alone."

"And if they did not have the herbs I told him to fetch, would he have known what to get in their stead?"

"Perhaps yes, perhaps not. "

She glared at him.

"Aye, likely not. Still, it was a foolish risk and if you had told me, I would have figured out another way."

"I did try to tell you."

"When?"

"When I went to your cabin. But from the sounds I heard coming from inside, you were a little busy. With Bethy."

Even in the descending gloom, the blush glowed cherry-red on his cheeks.

"I thought the risk was worth taking," she said. "The wound on his arm was not healing and torn flesh is beyond my…" she stopped herself and turned to look out over the rail again.

"Beyond your ability to heal simply by touching with your hands?"

When she did not answer, he tipped his head thoughtfully. "I was there when you laid your hands on Sabinius's chest. The room was dark, so I expect you did not see me in my corner. At first I thought it was a gesture of concern, of tenderness perhaps. But then I had the odd sense that there was someone else at the bedside with you, someone laying their hands over yours, something other than a draft from the window causing the smoke from the candle to circle around you. In the morning, when he was sitting up and chatting like a magpie, when his fever was gone and his cough was gone…"

"You began to believe the stories that Enndolynn Ware was a witch," she said softly.

"I began to believe that Enndolynn Ware was somehow blessed with the ability to heal an old man who would otherwise have been dead by morning. And if that is the worst part of being a witch then I would count it as a blessing not a curse."

"I also found the dungeon. I saw it through a solid wall. I saw men being tortured; I heard their screams, saw their blood. I froze on the staircase because they were there, all of them and I could feel their suffering, their agony. I do not consider myself blessed to be able to see these things. Or to know that I can whisper a few words in anger and a midwife chokes on a chicken bone and a farrier falls down a well, and a priest simply dies. I made a promise to never use the powers I was born with, but I have broken that promise." She looked at him with huge, haunted eyes. "Now I may have put all of you in danger again . Rennwick is angry with me again and I just want to be normal, Roger. Normal and ordinary like every other girl. Like Bethy. She is so sweet and gentle-natured. Certes, you have every reason to be locked away in your cabin with her and she with you."

Roger took hold of her shoulders and gently forced her to turn and face him. "Bethy is, indeed, sweet and loving and caring. All that and more. But she is who she is and you are who you are, whether it be Enndolynn Ware the healer, or Ellyn the Fetcher, maker of the finest arrows in all of Christendom. Or simply Ellyn, the girl who has managed to crack through the iron wall surrounding Renn's heart. He likes to think he is immune to any tender feelings, but I have seen the way he looks at you. I saw it as far back as in the forest."

"He says I make his blood sing," she admitted.

Roger promptly forgot any more words of comfort he was about to say, and smiled instead. "He said that?"

"He was in a delirium. I put too much of the posset in his mead."

"All the more reason to believe him, for shy of hanging red-hot pincers off his ballocks, he would not freely admit such a thing."

"Whether yay or nay, I doubt he feels the same way at the moment."

Roger laughed softly. "He will forgive and forget soon enough. He has a temper and can be a blistering fool at times, but then most men are like that when the woman they love is in danger."

She almost groaned aloud. "Not you too."

He gave the top of her head a fatherly ruffling. "Me and anyone else with eyes in their head. Now, since you took such pains to acquire what you needed, go and make up your poultices for his wounds. I would just as soon not have to call up the carpenter to cut off any of his limbs."