Page 3 of Always
Her hand slipped off the bed and dangled limply in midair.
Around me, the midwives called frantic orders, and the other ladies rushed to fulfill the commands. “I have to find a way to stop the bleeding!” the head midwife said, no longer attempting to mask her fear. “Lady Felicia, give the queen more of that tea. Now!”
I picked up the chalice but halted halfway to the queen’s lips. Her eyes were closed, her lashes fanned across her pale skin. Everything about her body lay silent and still. Her lips were slightly parted as if she’d spoken her last words and taken her last breath.
My fingers began to shake so violently that some of the tea sloshed over the rim and splashed onto the sheet. A crimson spot spread like a fast-growing web, its layers tangling and dividing and encroaching as if to catch its prey.
I took a quick step back, unable to tear my eyes from the dead queen. She’d known she was dying. She’d known a silky snare was growing that would soon catch us all in its tangle. And she’d known I would need to race to save the princesses.
I prayed to God the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost I wasn’t too late.
Chapter
2
Lance
The grit ofsmoke and sweat lined every crevice of my face, the metallic taste of blood lingering against my lips and on my tongue. Whether my own or the splattered lifeblood of my latest kill, I could not distinguish.
The sword sheathed at my side clanked against my chain mail on one side. My flail swung from the other. My leather soldier boots slapped the hallway floor in tempo to the frantic thud of my heart. Breathless, I reached the king’s chamber and saluted the two soldiers standing guard before I identified myself by touching the silver boar badge affixed to my chest. The insignia symbolized the bravery and honor I’d earned that set me apart as a retainer in the king’s private army. The honor allowed me extra privileges and a higher income I eagerly sent home to my mother and siblings.
But tonight, at this moment, the order from my commander to deliver the latest battle news to the king was not a privilege I’d wanted to have. Not when the news was so devastating. And not when I was tasked with secreting the king to safety—a move our noble ruler would surely resist.
The soldiers at the door regarded me with frightened eyes. Their gazes darted past me to the passageway, to the screams of torture and terror that were no longer contained to the castle walls but drew closer with each passing minute.
“Lance of the Elite Guard. I must see the king at once.”
The soldiers parted and opened the door for me. The room was dimly lit and hazy from the smoke of a dozen incense pots and thick with the bitter odor of bloodwort. I homed in on King Francis lying unmoving on his luxurious bed. A physician pressed leeches against the king’s already bruised arm for another bloodletting. At the clank of my armor and heavy thud of my boots upon my entrance, the king lifted his head and attempted to push up to his elbows, but immediately dropped back with a groan.
Heedless of the courtiers, clerks, physicians, clergy, and others of the royal retinue that crowded the chamber, I strode to the end of the raised bed, lowered myself to one knee, and bent my head. I wanted to blurt out the news and tell everyone in the room to take cover before the keep was captured, but even in the direst of circumstances, I couldn’t break the code of conduct that required the king to acknowledge me before I could stand and speak.
“Lance? Is that you?” The king spoke in a stilted voice, each word laced with pain.
“Aye, Your Majesty.”
“What tidings do you have?”
I stood and stared at his chest, for I was unworthy to look directly into the eyes of any royal or nobleman. Even though I was one of the lucky few to better my station, I was still not and never would be equal.
“Your Majesty,” I started, but my attention snagged on the mound of bandages wrapped around the king’s torso. A stain of blood had seeped through a spot beneath his rib cage. I’d heard the king had been wounded yesterday during a particularly fierce skirmish on the west wall, but I hadn’t realized how severely.
A chill skittered up my backbone.
Aye, I greatly admired the king for his willingness to fight alongside his noble knights and lords. He’d modeled determination, courage, and honor to face the enemy rather than sending his men out to do so in his stead.
Yet the king was neither as strong nor as young as his elite warriors who’d been specially chosen for our physical prowess, strength, and speed. At six feet two inches, I’d barely met the required height for the king’s army. Many others were taller and stockier. Most, like me, had spent many years as a page, then squire, with intense training both physically and mentally before being accepted to serve the king.
If the strongest warriors in Mercia had failed to keep Ethelwulf’s army from overrunning the walled city that spread out as the footstool of the royal residence, then the king shouldn’t have been fighting.
But it was too late for regrets. All we could do now was to ensure the king’s safety.
“Your Majesty,” I repeated. “Ethelwulf has breached the castle walls. The battle has moved to the bailey.”
The news apparently came as no surprise to the king or his council.
“Is the keep secured?” asked a stately, gray-haired man standing closest to the king’s bed. He wore a golden livery collar that announced he was the king’s most trusted advisor.
I bowed my head toward the man before responding. “The doors are sealed, but Ethelwulf’s contingency of Saracen warriors will be inside erelong.”
