Page 327 of Redemption Arc Romance

Ellowyn sat in Brandt’s tent with her cards, her possessions, and her husband’s material comforts. The flat copper disc was once again called into service and it sat in the middle of the tent, raised on stones, and burning a small pile of wood for warmth. Smoke escaped through the hatch in the room. It was the same tent she had stayed in nearly every night, with rare exception, for almost three weeks. She and the tent were friends now. A boring friend, but a comfort nonetheless. She was thinking on giving it a name.

Seated on a heavy rug atop the ground, she lay her cards out absently, playing a solitary game, before losing track of what she was doing and collecting the cards, only to shuffle them out again. She knew something was going on but no one had come to tell her what it was. She knew it had something to do with the castle but beyond that, she had no idea. Boredom was settling heavy on her and she was thinking of putting her cards away altogether when she heard voices close by.

One of the voices was Brandt. He was giving a directive to someone, more than likely Dylan. The two men were practically inseparable. Ellowyn watched the tent flap with anticipation, cards still in her hands, waiting for Brandt to make an appearance. She didn’t have to wait long.

He blew into the shelter, slapping back the tent flap so violently that he nearly pulled half the tent down. Ellowyn put her arms over her head as the tent lurched dangerously but Brandt managed to steady it. When Ellowyn finally lowered her arms and looked at him, he smiled sheepishly.

“Greetings,” he said softly, perhaps wearily. He let go of the supporting pole and made his way towards her. “Have you eaten?”

She shook her head. “Not yet.”

He pulled off his helmet with a heavy sigh, tossing it onto the pile of his possessions. “Good,” he muttered, scratching his scalp as he faced her. “Then we may at least share a meal together. Considering I have not seen you all day, I am grateful for whatever time I can spend with you.”

Ellowyn watched the man, his exhausted movements, his pale and shadowed face. He stood there, pulling off his gauntlets as she watched him closely. His expression was hard, his eyes distant.

“What is the matter?” she asked softly. “Why are we here and not within the walls of Guildford Castle?”

Brandt tossed the gloves down and rubbed at his eyes. “Because it would seem that Arundel is occupying my castle,” he said, looking at her. “He says that the king asked him to garrison my property while I was in France but I know that to be a lie. I have given him until the sun sets to be off the grounds.”

“Or what?”

He sighed again. “Or I will lay siege and kill every one of Arundel’s men,” he said. Then, he grunted ironically. “Fitzalan and I have fought together, many times. I know the man. He thought perhaps that I would not return from France and set about staking his claim early for my holdings.”

Ellowyn was confused by the entire situation. “Is he your enemy, then?”

Brandt shook his head. “He is a greedy bastard. His father and my father had a tenuous relationship and the son carries on the tradition. He occupies my castle while I am away, takes my revenue, rapes my lands….” He righted a stool that had been lying near his bedroll and planted it next to where Ellowyn was sitting. He plopped on it heavily. “When I docked in London, I had over two thousand men with me. When we departed for Erith, I sent three-quarters of my men here with sixteen of my lesser knights. Arundel’s commander tells me that when thearmy tried to return to Guildford, he sent them to one of my lesser castles at Farnborough. De Reyne and several soldiers ride there now to collect them and bring them back here. I have sent le Bec to Canterbury for reinforcements.”

Ellowyn cocked her head. “You are allied with Canterbury?”

He nodded. “The House of de Russe and the House of de Lohr has long been allied,” he replied, rubbing at his eyes again before refocusing on her. “James de Lohr, the Earl of Canterbury, is a friend. Le Bec can make it to Canterbury in a few days, but we cannot expect reinforcements from de Lohr for a couple of weeks at the earliest. I am therefore hoping that Arundel’s commander obeys my directive and vacates my castle by the dictated time.”

Ellowyn gazed up at him as he rubbed his eyes again. The man was so very weary, burdened by days and months and years of strife. She began to think back to moments when she had seen her father weary or in particular pain, and how her mother had rubbed away the worries and the ache. It always seemed to work for her father. Perhaps it would work with Brandt. She felt strongly that she needed to do something for the man. He appeared edgy and brittle.

Silently, she stood up and moved in behind him as he sat on the stool. Brandt tried to turn around to look at her but she put her hands on either side of his head, forcing him to face forward. With her hands still on his head, she got in behind him so that she was right up against his back. His head was level with her breasts.

“Relax your head,” she requested, gently pulling it back so it was resting against her chest. “Just… relax.”

Brandt did as he was told, leaning his head back slightly until it came to rest against her. He didn’t even ask her why. He simply did as she asked. He was rewarded for his obedience when Ellowyn’s fingers began to gently massage his sweatyscalp, his temples. It was heavenly. Brandt groaned with delight and closed his eyes as Ellowyn proceeded to rub his head, her fingers applying slight pressure, ironing out the worries and stress he was overloaded with. Her gentle fingers moved all over his scalp and forehead, and partially down his neck but his hauberk prevented her from doing much with his neck and shoulders.

So she focused on his head, rubbing his temples and tenderly stroking his forehead. It was a gentle touch, a loving touch, something Brandt had never experienced before. He had so much on his mind, including the weight of a young prince’s dreams and the expectations of the royal father. If he failed, Edward failed, and the monarchy’s quest in France failed. Everything rested on one man’s shoulders. Days like today, he felt the burden more heavily than others.

Ellowyn seemed to sense that. By magic or intuition, she seemed to sense what was troubling him and was prepared to do what she could to help him in a way he’d never been helped before. It was on a deeper level, an emotional level, and he’d never known such comfort. He was quickly becoming languid, dozing, enjoying every rub, every stroke. He felt her kiss the top of his dirty head.

“You have had a very trying day,” she whispered. “Right now, at this moment, I want you to think of nothing else but peace and relaxation. Can you do this?”

His eyes were closed as he leaned back against her. “I can try,” he mumbled.

She smiled at his sleepy reply. “I want you to think of a peaceful lake on a warm summer’s day, and of cool grass beneath your feet,” she murmured. “I want you to think of me sitting next to you on the shores of this lake. I want you to….”

She was cut off by a rattling snore. She laughed softly, continuing to rub his head, pleased that he had fallen asleepagainst her. At least for a few moments, she had given him that peace she had hoped for. The poor man was exhausted.

As she stood there and rubbed his head, she realized it was the first time she had seen the man with his guard down. Even in times of intimacy between them, and there had been several since they had been married, he hadn’t fully let his guard down. There was always some manner of control to his behavior. But at this moment, he was at his most vulnerable. Underneath all of the pomp and circumstance, he was just a man with all of the needs of a man. Ellowyn intended to provide for those needs. She intended to take care of him.

Brandt’s snoring was deep and even. He was dead asleep against her, sitting up, as she massaged his scalp. It went on for several minutes until the tent flap slapped back again and Dylan appeared. Before he could say anything, Ellowyn barred her teeth at him threateningly and he came to a wide-eyed halt, seeing that Brandt was sleeping the sleep of the dead as his wife drilled her fingers into his head.

“Wake him and you shall feel my wrath,” she hissed softly. “Let him rest, for Pity’s sake.”

Dylan’s gaze moved from her face to Brandt’s and back again. He was apologetic. “Forgive me, my lady,” he said quietly but politely. “He must know that Arundel is on the move. They are vacating the castle.”