If Not For The Knight - Debbie Boek (reading eggs books .txt) 📗

“He is of no consequence. What is that?” he asked, wrinkling his nose at the vile mixture of herbs she gingerly began to remove from a bowl.

“Just a poultice to help the wound heal,” she replied.

Calder's brow furrowed when he noticed that she used a spoon to scrape the substance from the bowl, carefully avoiding any contact with her own skin. He stepped back.

“There is no need for it,” he said, unable to miss the look of disappointment on her face. His own features paled somewhat, as he realized how close he had just come to suffering the same fate as his brother.

“Are you sure, Milord?” she asked, her eyes narrowed. “It will take the sting away and help it heal more rapidly.”

“Put your hand into the bowl,” he ordered.

She looked at him quizzically. “What?”

“Put your hand into the bowl,” he repeated.

“But, I have no wound, Milord. There is no need.”

“Put your hand into the bowl,” he said once again, his voice quiet but commanding.

“No, I will not, Milord,” she answered. Her face was ashen and beads of sweat broke out on her brow.

“Why not?”

“There is no need for it,” she said, turning to walk away.

“Maida,” he said, his voice still deadly quiet, “you would not have thought to poison me, would you?”

The remainder of the blood drained from her face as she turned back to look at him. The bowl trembled in her hands.

His ice-cold eyes stared hard at her. “Do you know what happens to traitors, Maida?”

She refused to answer, her eyes narrowing as she studied him cautiously.

“They are blinded, Maida,” he continued softly, inching closer to her. “Is that what you prefer? Abetting Edgar was bad enough, but you also attempted to take the life of your Overlord. It's your choice now. Which will it be, Maida? If not to be blinded, then put your hand in the bowl.”

With the screech of a banshee, Maida hurled the bowl and its contents at Calder. He easily ducked out of the way and turned back just in time to see Draco's dirk fly through the air and embed itself in her chest.

Calder shook his head sadly as he watched her sink to the floor and take her last breath. “Put her body out with the others. I must go tell Regan of Edgar's death. And, Draco,” Calder said gratefully as he turned back toward him, “thank you.”

With a nod of acknowledgement, Draco bent to pick up Maida's now lifeless body and carry it outside.

CHAPTER 15

Regan was startled to find Calder at her door at such a late hour. She looked nervously about to see if anyone was watching them before leading him inside her cottage.

“What is it?”

“Is Radolf asleep?” Calder asked, his voice low.

“Yes, he is.”

“Edgar is dead,” he said bluntly, not knowing a way to break the news that would make it any easier.

Regan felt her knees grow weak and quickly sat down at the table. A myriad of emotions ran through her right then and, shamefully, she realized that the strongest of them was relief that he was gone.

“I will call the villagers together tomorrow to let them know, but I did not want you to hear it that way.”

“Thank you, Calder. I appreciate your thoughtfulness,” she said, taking his hand in hers. She knew, somehow, that it was Calder who had taken Edgar's life, but wanted him to realize that she did not harbor any ill feelings toward him because of it.

He watched her face reflect her emotions and wished he could take her in his arms and hold her while she dealt with them.

“I must tell Radolf when he wakes,” she said, wondering with concern how the boy would take the news.

“Would you like me to come back in the morning and help explain Edgar’s death?” Calder asked. He curled his fingers around hers, wanting her to tell him, and Radolf, the truth, and thereby allow him to be by his son’s side to help him through this. He could not understand why she continued to keep her silence.

“No,” she said, gratitude filling her eyes, “but thank you, anyway. It would be best if I try to explain. He is so young, I don’t know how much he will understand.”

She stared into the deep blue depths of Calder’s eyes, feeling her own fill with tears at her deception, to Edgar, to Calder and, particularly, to Radolf. He was so young; she must take this slowly. First, he must be given a chance to deal with Edgar’s death. Only then could she consider being honest about who his true father was.

“You should go now,” she said tearfully, needing to be by herself.

“Yes,”, he said, worry showing on his face. “Will you let me know how Radolf handles the news?”

“Of course, Milord,” she answered, not finding his concern for the boy at all strange. Calder watched her for a moment longer, and then turned and walked out of the cottage.

The next morning, all of the villagers were gathered once more in the courtyard.

“Yesterday, we killed or captured the men behind the thievery of your livestock. Many were members of this village. Those who survived yesterday, will be hung in the square today for their traitorous behavior.” He paused as the noise from the crowd grew louder. “I imagine some of you other men may have participated in these raids, as well. Consider yourself fortunate that you were not with Edgar last night. But, know this, should more livestock disappear, we will hunt down those responsible until each is dead, even if that leaves us with a village of nothing but women.”

He watched as some of the men stared down at their feet or shifted uncomfortably, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Take your beasts and graze them on your own lands now, and I’ll hear no grumbling about which belongs to whom. You must work it out amongst yourselves.”

Calder nodded and Draco and the other knights led the prisoners out to the square, where a sufficient number of ropes had been hung for each of them. Calder dreaded the thought of the coming executions. But, harsh as the punishment may be, it was perhaps the only way to ensure no similar problems would occur in the future.

He stood tall and proud, ignoring the looks of hatred cast upon him by the crowd, as he pronounced judgment on the thieves and watched as they were hung. Leaving the villagers to collect and bury their dead, he slowly made his way to the stable and saddled Alerio.

Pushing the horse as hard and as long as he could that day, he was finally able to clear his head. Making his way back toward the village, he watched the sky burn a brilliant red as the sun slowly began its descent.

Calder spotted a flash of yellow in the woods ahead of him and cautiously approached it. Recognizing Regan sitting beneath a tree, he dismounted and walked over to her. His brow furrowed in concern when he saw her face buried in her hands and her shoulders shaking as she wept.

“What is it, Regan?” he asked gently.

Raising her tear-filled eyes and seeing who spoke to her, she flung herself into his arms. Calder grasped her tightly, running his hand through her hair and murmuring words of comfort as she sobbed against his chest.

Regan regained control a few moments later and tried to step back, but Calder kept his arms circled tightly around her waist.

She placed her hands on his chest and raised bloodshot eyes to his. “I’m sorry, Milord. You caught me at rather a weak moment, I fear.”

He leaned down and gently kissed her lips, then silently took her hand and led her to the fallen trunk of a dead tree. Sitting on the log, he gently pulled her down beside him.

“Is it Edgar?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” she said, still sniffling a little. “I just feel so horrible about everything.” She held Calder’s hand tightly and stared down at the ground. “I knew, from the time I was five years old, that Edgar was to be my husband. We grew up together, we were friends. I don’t think that I ever truly loved him, but he was a good man, Calder. You must believe that.”

She looked up and saw the doubt on his face. “When you and your men came here the first time, he lost everything and it changed him. He lost his pride, his family, me.”

Taking a deep breath, she continued. “He kept getting worse. He let his anger and his hatred eat him up inside and it turned him into someone I didn’t know any longer. He took all of his anger out on Radolf and me, and I grew to despise him for it.”

“That is understandable,” Calder replied softly.

“Not really. I caused so much of his pain.” She hesitated, unable to tell him how crushed Edgar was when he realized that he was not Radolf’s father. “He knew I did not love him or want him anymore. I gave you the means to find and kill him. I betrayed him in every way possible, and I feel such shame for it when I remember the man that he was.”

Calder put his arm around her, hugging her close. “You never betrayed the man that he was, Regan,” Calder said