A Blessed de Lohr Christmas by Kathryn Le Veque

Author:Kathryn Le Veque [Veque, Kathryn Le]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Medieval
Published: 2020-02-07T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOUR

THE STABLE

IT WAS AN unusual Lady of the House, indeed.

The older woman was dressed in a dirty linen robe and her white hair was well past her buttocks. She had a rather wild-eyed look about her, enough so that Peter stood up as she approached. He was prepared to defend his father and the others to the death, even against a woman with a crazed look to her eyes. He frowned, the old woman frowned, and the forward movement came to a halt.

Uncertainty filled the air.

“This is my mother, Sianet,” Andra said, tugging on the old woman’s arm. “She has come to see how badly injured your father is.”

Peter cast a long look at the filthy old woman before finally backing away. Andra, cautiously watching the big, young knight, pulled her mother all the way forward, indicating Christopher as he leaned against his brother.

“This is the man I told you of, Mam,” she said. “He hurt his head. I told them to keep cold compresses on the bump, but will you look at him?”

Sianet looked at the four very large men in the kitchen. Marcus could see that she was intimidated so he stood up and moved to stand with Peter, but David was trapped with his brother leaning on him. He remained, watching the old lady as she finally bent over, peering at the large lump on Christopher’s head. It covered some of his temple and back into the hairline.

Sianet visually inspected it before reaching out a gnarled finger, gently touching it. Christopher winced.

“It pains you,” the old woman said.

Christopher grunted. “It would pain anyone.”

The old woman lifted Christopher’s eyelids, looking at his eyes. Then, she visually inspected the rest of him, naked but for the blanket he was wrapped up in, as well as inspecting David and Marcus. She was quite observant and curious.

“I smell war about you,” she said. “Where did you come from?”

“Hereford,” Christopher said before David or Marcus could answer. “There was a battle tonight.”

“Where?”

“Kington.”

“And you were injured in that battle?”

“I was.”

“Why did you come here?”

Christopher lifted a hand, pointing to the clothing drying out on the hearth. “It was not by choice, I assure you,” he said. “I was struck and fell into the river. These brave men went in to save me and the water carried us here.”

That was about as much as he intended to explain. Christopher was hoping they wouldn’t have to tell Andra, or her mother, anything at all, but he felt as if he had to say something to at least satisfy the woman’s curiosity. He didn’t want to be impolite to the people who had essentially saved their lives.

“Then you are a warrior,” the old woman said. “A knight?”

Christopher nodded faintly, stopping because the motion pained him. “We are.”

“Saesneg?”

That was the Welsh word for English. Again, Christopher nodded. “Aye,” he said steadily. “But we mean you no harm. We shall be gone in the morning and I will send men with a reward for you for helping us.

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