“I, too, am happy in this marriage,” she had admitted huskily as she ran her fingertips caressingly across his cheek. “Take care, my husband. Take care.”
She and Bertha took the children in hand, forcing them to wash all the grim from their bodies, then seating them around the kitchen table where Eadyth proceeded to teach them their lessons. Though they shifted restlessly from time to time, they were all eager students, even Godric, and much was accomplished in the three hours before they heard the horses returning in the bailey. Eadyth ordered the children to stay with Bertha, then rushed through the hall with foreboding.
Wilfrid was carrying Britta’s limp and battered body up the steps when Eadyth opened the door. Eirik and his men were already riding off again in search of the evil Gravely and his conspirators in crime.
“Is she alive?” Eadyth asked Wilfrid.
“Just barely,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Bring her to the guest chamber,” she said, leading the way, and called out to Girta, “Tell Bertha to send hot water and cloths.”
When Britta lay on the bed, and they had removed her shredded garments, Eadyth and Wilfrid both cried out with alarm at the horrendous cuts and bruises which marred almost all her skin from forehead to feet. Blood and man-seed had dried on her thighs. Her one eye was already swollen shut and her bottom lip cracked open. Her left arm appeared broken at the wrist.
Wilfrid exclaimed, “The bloody bastard. I will kill him for this, I swear.”
“Leave, Wilfrid,” Eadyth pleaded finally, putting a gentle hand on his arm. ” ‘Twould be best to let me cleanse her body in private. Find the herbal woman in the village, if you will, and send her to me with healing draughts.”
“Will she live?” he asked brokenly.
Eadyth shrugged. “I hope so. I will do my best. ‘Tis all I can promise.”
By the time she was done cleaning Britta, the maid had gained consciousness, moaning, “Oh, mistress, the beasts… the things they did to me… I hurt so bad…”
“Hush, Britta, you are safe now.” But she had to ask, “Was it Steven of Gravely?”
Britta looked up at her, wide-eyed with horror. “Yea. He and five of his men took turns… oh, the perversions… the horrid things they made me do… I will never forget… and he gave me a message for you.”
Eadyth stiffened with apprehension.
“He said… he said… to tell you that you are next. And he said he would not be so gentle with you.”
Eadyth brushed Britta’s lank red hair, once as lustrous as spun gold, off her battered face. Then she took the young servant in her arms and rocked her like a child, knowing full well that Britta had lost any remnant of innocence she still held that day. And her tears blended with the sweet maid’s.
By the time Eirik and his retinue returned that evening, Britta was sleeping restlessly, thanks to the herbs the village woman had brought. Eadyth was optimistic that the maid would recover, in time—at least in body, if not in spirit.
Her first glance at Eirik’s stormy features told her he had not found Steven. Once again, the devilish earl had eluded capture.
Quickly, she ordered servants to prepare baths for Tykir and her husband and to begin setting the tables for the evening meal. “And bring out several tuns of mead,” she told Lambert. “Methinks the men will have a mighty thirst.”
By the time Eadyth finally got upstairs, Eirik and Tykir had both completed their baths and were sitting in Eirik’s bedchamber, discussing the day’s events. She told them of Britta’s injuries and her hopes for recovery.
Eadyth’s heart went out to her husband as he sat with wide shoulders slumped in weariness and disillusionment. His handsome profile was rigid with tension. He had not shaved that day and a dark stubble shadowed his face. He was a strong man… he truly was… but he had been pushed sorely that day.
Eadyth hesitated, then put her hand familiarly on her husband’s shoulder. He looked up at her, in surprise at first, then laid a hand over hers. Eadyth thrilled at this small show of affection outside the fever of bedlust.