That brought a few chuckles, and Ricard turned back, putting forth his best bellow. “Seeing as you’ve so much energy, forward march!”
The men headed off, marching in step, keeping the spacing between them, to make the round about the keep.
Slam.Another window opened. The sergeant glared up, to see the lady now leaning out of a second-floor window. The Healing Hall had been one of those sealed up. Lord Verice had left no orders about this, not to his knowledge. He opened his mouth to call to her, and then closed it.
He’d no orders about this, but then Lady Warna wasn’t under his command, now was she? Her and the Lord might have had discussions he’d not been privy too, might’n they? And he’d no reason to think to the contrary, now had he? And this needed doing, now didn’t it?
He was still considering that when the top-most window opened, and Lady Warna poked her head out. “There’s a tiny room up here, perfect for me,” she called down. “Buckets, soap, and plenty of hot water, Constable.”
A woman with a plan, it would appear. In an instant, Ricard reviewed all his options, and made the best, safest choice.
“Aye, lady,” he called up. “And a few on punishment detail to aid you in the work.”
It was alovely room, to Warna’s delight. Not huge, like the one in the mage tower, but a nice bed, with a small table and chair. Even better, a press for clothes and a small cupboard off to the side. A woven rag rug covered the wooden floor. The stone walls were cool, and the air was chill and musty. There was a thick layer of dust and a lace of cobwebs in every corner.
Well, soonest started, soonest done. With the window open there was a bit of a breeze. In a great cloud of dust, Warna stripped the bed. She bundled up the bedding, gathered up the rug, and threw the lot of them down the stairwell.
She clattered down the stairs behind, and started poking in cupboards and storage areas, looking for soap and rags. It seemed this place had been stripped bare of personal items and healing supplies before being closed up, but she found a few rags and some wood polish in one of the cupboards just as the clomp of boots came through the door.
It was two of the constable’s men, each with a bucket of warm water and carrying brooms and dust pans, soap, and a basket of rags.
“Excellent.” Warna smiled, a feeling of satisfaction rising in her chest. “Let’s get to work.”
The shadows werelong when Verice finally returned with his men, having been gone longer than he had planned. The attack had been more than a raid, of that he was certain. The local commander was a good man, but Verice feared the Usurper was testing the border, looking for a weak spot. And if a weakness was found, no doubt a bolder thrust would follow. He shook his head. He’d need more scouts in that area.
But as he swung out of the saddle, all he really cared for was a meal and sleep. He was short on both. It had been a long two days since he’d taken Warna to Bode’s tower.
He’d have to make arrangements for Warna, or find another place to sleep himself. She’d been in the back of his mind the entire time, as he’d tried to determine what was best for her. So far, he’d not made a decision, and that irritated him to no end.
Constable Ricard came toward him and made a quick salute. “All’s well, m’lord.”
“Thanks be for that.” Verice stretched. “All I ask is for a chance at a meal and a bed. Do you know if Warna has eaten?”
“As to that, m’lord, she’s not even taken a nooning that I am aware of. She’s one for work, make no mistake.” There was an odd note of respect in the constable’s voice. “Her standards are higher than mine, when it comes to what’s proper.”
“What’s proper?” For his life, Verice couldn’t figure out what the man meant. “What has she been doing?” The horses around him shifted as they were led off to the stables, and he caught a glimpse of a bundle of laundry in front of the Healing Hall.
“Cleaning, m’lord,” the Constable said matter-of-factly. “Right proper job, too. The lads on punishment detail are none too happy they picked this time to err in their ways, I have to say. Did my heart good to see them poor sods beating out the mattresses.”
“Cleaning?” Verice blurted out, staring at the Healing Hall just in time to see a hand emerge from a lower window and shake out a dust cloth. “What cleaning?”
“Perhaps that’s a discussion you might have with M’lady. She’s within,” Ricard added, nodding toward the building. “Let me see to the meal for these men, and I’ll tell the cooks to send yours up to your chambers, once you’ve convinced her to stop her work, that is.” And he was gone.
Verice frowned. He’d given no orders to open the Healing Hall, of that he was certain.
The door was open, and he stepped within. The room was thick with dust, except the stairs and the tracks leading up.
He mounted the steps two at a time, to find a hallway that smelled of soap and water and two of the younger warriors scrubbing the floors with big brushes and resigned expressions. The one lad was tired enough that he looked at Verice without recognizing him for a moment before his eyes went wide.
“M’Lord!” They both sprang to their feet, and stood at attention.
“At ease,” Verice said. “Where is Warna?”
“Above, m’lord.” One of the lads gestured above.
“My thanks,” Verice hesitated on the steps. “Best return to your duties, lads.”
They both heaved sighs as he continued up the stairs.
