At His Command by Ruth Kaufman

Author:Ruth Kaufman
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Medieval
Published: 2015-01-13T22:00:00+00:00

“Amice,” Nicholas breathed. “I saw you….” Was he still dreaming? He fought for the words through a thick haze.

“Shhh. You’ve been ill. Drink this if you can. They forbid me to see you, but I had to.”

His mind cleared, sun shining through fog. Amice had come to him. She was so beautiful, her eyes so green. His heart filled with warmth he hadn’t known he could feel again at her concern, the effort she’d gone to on his behalf. Until memories flooded him again.

Memories. The kind that ripped his soul to shreds.

Nicholas heard pounding cannon, saw clumps of earth shoot into the sky. Talbot went down. He fell, struggled to get up. William’s rescue attempt and…William’s death.

What could he tell Amice? She couldn’t know how William had died. He hadn’t told anyone the horrific details. Not spilled a word of how anguish tore at him like a vulture feeding on carrion for his part in it. The pain in his leg was nothing compared to that. If she knew, would she still be by his side?

“Nicholas, can you understand me? Are you all right?” Her whisper was filled with fear. Her nails dug into his arm.

“I will be well.” He covered her hand with his. Her icy skin didn’t relieve the heat of fever but sparked his worry. “Amice, you must go. You shouldn’t be seen here or—” He didn’t know what time of day it was, or what day, for that matter. “Go now. When I get out of here, we’ll— Get under the bed, someone’s coming!”

She dropped to the floor as he slid the wineskin beneath the coverlet. Sweat cooled on his brow in the wake of the physician’s approach.

“You are awake at last.” The physician wiped his hands on a piece of stained cloth. He lifted the coverlet and then unwound the bandage on Nicholas’s thigh.

Nicholas clenched his jaw against stabbing pain. The occasional moan from other patients broke the silence.

“I’ve seen worse. How do you feel?” the physician asked.

“Ready to leave the infirmary.”

“Not yet, with that leg of yours. You must keep it still a few more days, and we must watch your fever. Then we will see.”

“I disagree. I wish to recover in my own quarters.”

“Hmmph! I’ll move on to another patient who might be more willing to follow my orders.” He walked away.

Cautiously, Amice appeared from her hiding place under his cot. Her hat was askew. What was that red mark on her face?

“Who hit you?” he demanded.

“It’s nothing. One of the injured flung out an arm by accident as I passed by.” Her fingertips skimmed her cheek. He reached to take hold her hand, to reassure her all would be well, but thought better of it. “Get well quickly. Will you…will I see you when you’re better?”

He wanted nothing more than a few moments in her company. To talk to her, see her smile. But the king would soon find her another groom. Why feed a slow-burning fire that could never burn bright?

Against his better judgment, he said, “Yes.

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