If Not For The Knight, Debbie Boek [electronic reader TXT] 📗

She had come to rely on him so, for protection, for love, for his kindness and gentle words, and she did not want to be left there alone. Even though she was not able to see him often, just knowing that he was somewhere nearby if she did need him was enough.

“And I, you,” he answered sincerely, wishing he could throw her onto her small pallet right that moment and show her how much she meant to him. Instead, he just held her tightly and tried to make her feel safe.

“Will you join me for dinner tomorrow night, Regan? I would like to see you alone before I must leave.”

“A little something to remember on your long, cold trip?” she asked with a tremulous smile.

“Something like that,” he answered warmly.

 

            

 

The winter storms started in earnest the day Calder and his men rode off to London. As much as he hated the thought of it, he was forced to take a dozen knights along with him, including Draco. The wagons contained a great quantity of silver for King William, and he had to ensure that no thieves or brigands had an opportunity to steal it.

He worried at leaving the village unprotected but knew Garrick would do well acting in his stead. And the bad weather conditions would lessen the chance of any mischief occurring.

 

            

Over the next few weeks, the weather continued to worsen. On many days, the strong winds carried chips of ice along with the snow, pelting the flimsy cottages, within which the villagers found small protection.

The cottages were made of a framework of timber, supporting oak or willow wands, which were then covered with a mixture of clay, chopped straw or cow hair and dung. The wind tore through them unmercifully at times.

The thatched roofs suffered the greatest from the blustery winds and the weight of the icy snow, and repairs were being done continuously throughout the village. Many could feel the icy flakes hitting them inside their homes, as the wind and snow whipped down the vent in the roof, which was used to release the smoke from the open hearth inside.

Old men sat around their fires, telling tales of winters past and vicious snowstorms endured, but none could recall one that came so early and blew with such constant ferocity as this one.

It was Regan’s first winter alone, without Edgar, and she was worried. Although food was still plentiful, there was not enough wood to keep the fire going, and its meager heat was all she and Radolf had to keep them from freezing to death.

Edgar always made sure that they had a good supply of wood in the past, but Regan was so occupied with her own responsibilities in preparation for the winter, it had not occurred to her to stock up before the snow hit.

Each day, she wrapped a woolen blanket around her head and donned her thin, worn mantle as she struggled through the drifts into the forest. The men had axes and were able to chop down small trees and carry them back. Regan did not have the strength to do so and was forced to break off small branches or dig through the snow for limbs that had broken off due to the weight of the ice and snow.

Wrapping her treasures in another threadbare blanket, she would drag it along behind her as she trudged back to the cottage.

On the days that the blizzard let up, she would try and make at least two trips, so there would be extra wood in the cottage and it had time to dry a little before they used it. The wet wood smoked horribly, burning their eyes and throats as they sat close to the fire to absorb its meager warmth.

Each time that she went out, she as forced to go further and further into the forest. Others were also out collecting wood and it became scarcer and more difficult to find. The long, cold journey through the deep drifts sapped Regan’s energy quickly and she had little left by the time she returned to her cottage.

By the end of the first week, she had developed a cough deep in her chest that refused to lessen its hold.

 

            

 

“Good morning,” Regan said, opening the door and allowing her mother in, out of the frigid, biting wind.

“Hello, my dear, how are you feeling?” Gayle asked in concern. Regan’ face was alarmingly pale and there were deep shadows under her eyes.

“I’m better, I think. The syrup you brought helps with the cough,” Regan answered, sitting down at the table and hoping her mother would not realize that she did not have the strength to stand any longer.

“It’s the strongest that I know how to make,” her mother stated absently, still watching Regan. “I mixed finely ground licorice in with the vinegar and honey to help with the bitter taste. You look very tired, my dear.”

“The cough returns in the night and keeps me from sleeping. Radolf, as well, I fear,” she said, looking down at where the boy slept on a pallet near the fire.

“Perhaps, Mother,” Regan continued hesitantly, “Radolf could stay with you and Father for a few days? I feel terrible keeping him awake all night with my coughing and he worries so about me.”

“Certainly, Regan. That would be fine. Why don’t you stay with us, as well?”

“Thank you, but I need to stay here to care for the cottage and the chickens. It will just be for a few days, till the cough is gone.”

“As you wish,” Gayle replied, brushing a curl back from Regan’s ashen cheek. “But you’ve had the cough for over two weeks already, haven’t you?”

“Yes, but I feel it’s getting better now.”

“Will you at least come over and join us for our evening meal?”

“Not tonight, mother. But I’ll join you tomorrow, if you don’t mind.”

“Every night would be wonderful, Regan. We do not get to see you enough anymore.”

“Is Father still angry at Lord Calder for discharging him?”

“Some days, he is. Others, he realizes that it was his own sharp tongue that caused the problem. Mayhap, he will apologize to Lord Calder and get back into his favor. He enjoyed the position that he was in and would like to be there again.”

“Should I talk to Lord Calder about it when he returns?”

“No, dear. Even though he is old, your father still carries the pride of a young man. He would want to do this himself.”

“Thank you for taking Radolf,” she said, kissing her mother on the cheek before waking Radolf and bundling him up as warmly as possible before he left with his grandmother.

After closing the door tightly behind them, Regan made herself a cup of barley water, vainly hoping that it would relieve some of the stuffiness in her head and the tightness in her chest.

Sighing heavily, and wishing Calder were there to take her into his strong, warm embrace, she set her empty cup on the table. Wrapping a thin blanket around her shoulders, she curled herself up into a ball on the pallet by the fire.

As the days wore on, Regan found herself growing weaker and weaker. Her trips for wood, more often than not, ended with little to nothing to show for it. She no longer had the energy to dig through the deep snow or travel far into the forest.

She would eat a little when she joined her parents and Radolf for their evening meal, but did not have much of an appetite. When she returned to the cold, dark cottage, she would curl up next to the meager fire and sleep.

The cough continued to worsen and, some nights she just lay shivering near the fire, her clothing drenched in sweat produced by her raging fever.

Some days, she would not wake until the sun was high in the sky. Even then, her body ached so that she found it difficult to make herself go back out into the fierce, howling wind to find more wood.

And one day, she did not wake at all.

 

 

 

CHAPTER 20

 

 

Calder pushed his men as hard as he dared in the deep snow. The heavily loaded wagons they were bringing back with them made the journey twice as long as it would have been. The conveyances continuously got stuck in the huge drifts that blew across the road, and his men were forced to push them until the wheels were free enough for the oxen to continue on.

He had been away much longer than planned. The King was too busy to see him for the first couple of weeks that he was in London. Even when he had finally been granted an audience, the King had but a few minutes to spare and Calder was not able to broach the subject that he most wanted to discuss.

Calder was not sure how King William would react to the news that he wanted to take a Saxon as his wife. He did not know whether the King would find it acceptable and, therefore, could not mention it to Regan until he was sure that he had the King’s permission.

If Calder married her without His Majesty’s sanction, he risked having the union annulled. He could possibly even be banished, and he would not take the chance of losing Regan and Radolf.

He was dismayed and frustrated that he had been unable to clarify the situation with King William now, but resolved that when he returned to London in the spring for the tournament, he would convince the King to give his blessing. In the meantime, he must keep his plans from Regan, so that he did not get her hopes up, only to have them crushed later on.

Never had Calder considered marrying before and he was surprised at how strongly he felt about it now, and how anxious he was to have the deed done. He had thought through their situation and realized that the best way to protect