Medieval Master Swordsmen(453)

“Had it been raining that day?”

“It had been raining for weeks.”

“So the ground was slippery.”

“Verily. Which is why I am more inclined to believe that she did not throw herself into the river as much as she slipped in.”

Garren took a long, slow breath, his mind working. “Damn her for standing so close. Too many times did I warn her.”

“We all did. She was fearless about it, unfortunately.”

Garren was quiet a moment. “The fall itself should not have killed her,” he said. “My concern is that perhaps she hit her head somehow and was knocked unconscious.”

“And drowned,” Fergus was barely audible.

Garren couldn’t refute the obvious. He turned away from the cliff, heading back towards the bailey. “It is my hope that we will find out,” he said with more determination than he felt. “I intend to comb down river inch by inch until I find something that leads me to believe she is either alive or dead.”

“That could take time,” Fergus followed him. “If we only had more help.”

Garren paused. “Your father and Offa and David have already been through this,” he said. “We will use them again to search, as futile as they believe it may be. And…”

“And what?”

Garren suddenly looked thoughtful. “The nearest garrison is Pembroke. You could ride there and ask for assistance.”

“Pembroke is held for the Marshal. Won’t some of those who serve there know you on sight?”

“Probably.”

“If they see you alive….”

Garren put up his hands, moving forward again in search of his horse. “I know, I know. All would be for waste if someone from the garrison saw me and reported back to the Marshal. But they don’t know you, and I could direct their efforts through you.”

“True enough,” Fergus agreed. His steed was nearby and he wearily sought the animal’s reins. “Very well, then. I shall ride to Pembroke for help. Perhaps a dozen men or so to cover more ground than you and I can alone. But you need to stay out of sight.”

“I will.”

“I shall return as quickly as I can.”

Garren watched him ride out, mounting his own charger and fighting his exhaustion as he did so. He felt better knowing that aid was coming, hoping he was that much closer to finding his wife. He could only pray it would be soon enough.



***



Derica had never had so many gifts. As if the floodgates of a mythical Aladdin’s Cave had suddenly burst open, she had more jewelry and belts and dresses and shoes than she knew what to do with. Keller apparently thought that the best way to ease her grief was to ply her with gifts, and he did so with exhaustive efficiency. Not a day passed that he didn’t present her with something soft, shiny, or otherwise. It was becoming an endless parade.

Sian and Aneirin had more possessions than they had ever known to exist, too. Toys, food, clothing was all theirs for the squandering if they wished it. Keller had taken a particular liking to Aneirin, and she to him. Since Derica was distant, he lavished attention on the little girl instead. He wished he could lavish it on Derica, but he knew he had to be patient with her. She wasn’t remotely ready for his interest, so he bided his time with the brown-haired little girl. Sian seemed more intent to be Derica’s shadow, no matter how much Keller tried to interact with him.

On a morning during her second week at Pembroke, Derica awoke to a bright day and the children playing silently near her bed. They had been up for hours. Yawning, she climbed from the bed, kissed them both, and went about preparing herself for the day. She had always been one to rise and dress immediately, not to lag about lazily.

One of the severe women, whom she had yet to be able to tell apart from one another, brought her warmed rosewater to wash the sleep from her face with. She brushed her teeth with a soft reed brush and rinsed it with a breath sweetener. Pulling off her woolen night shift, she replaced it with a shift of soft lamb’s wool. Over that, she donned a long sleeved linen shift of deep blue and a sleeveless surcoat of contrasting pale blue broadcloth. It was some of the less ornate clothing she owned, but highly fashionable and very comfortable.

Her dresser was overflowing with belts and jewels that Keller had given her. The severe servant encouraged her to wear something rich and gaudy to compensate for the plain dress she wore, but Derica pushed her suggestions aside and chose a simple gold cross on a golden chain that hung between her breasts. When the servant attempted to braid her hair in an elaborate style, Derica insisted on one simple braid that draped over one shoulder. Every time the woman tried to dress her up, she would dress down.