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“Nay, he does not,” William reached down and pulled her up. “Come with me.”
He led her back across the field of wounded and to a small tent that had been pitched for him. He gently pushed her inside, bellowing for hot water before he followed her.
“Sit down before you fall down,” he ordered tenderly.
She sank to the fur pallet that was there, allowing herself for the first time to feel her fatigue. She had fought it off for the sake of appearance and duty, but now in private, her exhaustion overwhelmed her.
“Oh, William,” she grasped her head in her hands.
His attention was always magnified when she called him by his Christian name. He continued to watch her lowered head, standing by the tent opening until a soldier brought him an iron pot of steaming water. He spoke a few words to the man before he disappeared and William turned back into the tent.
“Let us wash the blood off of you,” he said, kneeling down before her.
Using a linen rag, he began to clean his wife. His touch was as tender, as she knew it to be, as he rubbed off the dried blood. Her hair proved a little more of a challenge because it was literally everywhere. He took to rinsing water through it until the water ran clear.
“Tell me how my sons do?” he asked softly.
“They sleep,” she replied in a thin voice. “They slept through the entire battle.”
“I will check on them later,” he promised.
She smiled a little, watching him work with huge eyes. “Why did he do it?”
He gazed at her, swallowed up by her stare. “Because he was a fool.”
“Did he want me that badly or did he feel that ye shamed him with yer aggressive behavior the night he came to call on me?”
“Probably both,” William replied, rubbing at an ugly black clot. “De Troiu was a vain, arrogant man, but I never believed he was stupid. He had always been a great ally of Northwood.”
She lowered her gaze, wanting this day to be over with. She didn’t want to think about de Troiu anymore nor talk about what happened. She just wanted to put it all behind.
The soldier returned then and William went to the opening, retrieving the bundle in the man’s arms, Jordan glanced up at it.
“What is it that ye have?” she asked softly.
He knelt down and unrolled the package. She immediately recognized her brush, a cake of soap, all wrapped in her pretty purple satin surcoat.
“I thought you might want to change out of that dress,” he said, looking at her with a smile.
Sweet Jesu,’ she was lucky to have him. She returned his smile gratefully. “Aye, I would, English.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
William, his wife, and their entourage reached Northwood the next day near dusk.
Jordan sat with her husband, her eyes widening at the sight of mighty Northwood. The fortress sat silhouetted against a black, stormy sky, looking even more foreboding than she could ever remember and belying the true warmth of the castle’s interior. But it was the outer wall she saw, only half repaired, and the complete desolate terrain surrounding her that made the fortress appear so utterly raped. Even the trees that shielded the small lake she loved so well were barren and dead, and the lake was a mucky bog.
Yet in spite of the appearance, she could not imagine that returning to Langton after all this time would be any sweeter. She was glad to be home and her thoughts immediately turned to her cousin.
She was shocked at the sight of the outer bailey. There were few peasants trying to rebuild. The majority of the outer buildings were destroyed as well as the outer village. Her stomach twisted with the misery of their plight.
“English, what happened to all of the peasants?” her voice echoed with disbelief.
“Gone or killed,” he replied. “But there are quite a few left. We will rebuild.”
She hadn’t really imagined the severity of the destruction until it hit her at this very moment. She was sickened.
“This is terrible,” she shook her head slowly.
