Page 18 of The Saxon Lord's Unwanted Bride
“I mean you no harm,” Eloise said. “Your daughter needs warmth. May I come in? I have some skill at healing.”
The woman motioned Eloise inside.
A small fire, over which an iron pot was suspended, burned in the center of the hut, giving out some warmth. The hut was otherwise empty save for a pallet on the floor covered in blankets and a fur, and a small wooden chest with a number of bowls on top. Eloise set the child down and picked up a blanket, careful to leave the fur, for fear of the water ruining it. She stripped the child and rubbed her body with the blanket. The little girl’s lips turned from blue to pink as her body warmed. Eloise wrapped her in the blanket and placed her on the pallet, stroking her head, the she turned to the woman.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Gerda,” came the reply. “You speak our language?”
“Aye,” Eloise smiled, “and I can assure you that Wildstorm Hall is perfectly safe, though perhaps the river less so?”
“Dear heavens,” the woman cried. “You’re soaked!”
She pulled the fur off the pallet and handed it to Eloise.
“Not your fur,” Eloise protested, but Gerda insisted. “What’s a fur compared to my child? Since my husband’s passing, my children are all I have. Robin, give the lady some potage.”
Touched by the gesture, Eloise wanted to refuse but had no wish to offend. This woman had almost nothing but was willing to share her meagre fare. Robin ladled some into a bowl and passed it to Eloise while Gerda sat beside Alyce’s sleeping form.
“Would it help if I took your daughter to the hall with me?” Eloise asked. “You must have more than enough to do here, and I can care for her until she recovers.”
Gerda shook her head. “No. Not the hall.”
“Why do you say it’s not safe?” Eloise asked. “Is it because it’s so large?”
“Nay.”
“Is it because of my husband?”
Gerda shook her head but the expression on her face betrayed her.
“He’s a good man, Gerda,” Eloise said.
“He’s large and bad-tempered...” Gerda broke off. “Oh, forgive me—please don’t tell him!”
“Gerda, great evil can be hidden beneath great beauty,” Eloise said. “Reason therefore tells us that goodness can be found behind the appearance of a poor temper. My husband is a good man and Duke William trusts him.”
“He’s a murderer,” Gerda said. “Many Saxons died at his hand.”
“A conqueror, aye, but not a murderer.” Eloise said. “He wishes to rule but that doesn’t mean he’ll enslave the people. He only fought to take that which was promised to him.”
Eloise took Gerda’s hand. “I understand your fear,” she said. “My words alone will not dispel that fear. But I hope my actions—and those of Duke William—will suffice. He wants to build England, not destroy it. Do not hate all Normans. We only wish for peace, good lady. I want nothing but peace at Wildstorm.”
Gerda squeezed Eloise’s hand. “Forgive me, Lady; I’m glad you are come here.”
“As am I,” Eloise smiled. “At Morigeaux, tradition was for the lady to oversee the healing among the people. I intend to bring that tradition to Wildstorm.”
The door burst open. Robin shrieked in fright and a man stormed into the hut, filling the doorway with his huge frame, roaring in anger, his eyes black with rage.
Harald had found her.
Chapter 5
Harald could make out his wife’s eyes staring out at him from the darkness in the hut. Huddled in a far corner was a shabbily dressed woman. A small child lay on a pallet at her feet, its breathing hoarse and labored.
Another child—a boy—stood in front of his mother.
“What is the meaning of this, wife?” Harald demanded.
