Medieval Master Swordsmen(91)

But Radcliffe’s question still lingered in the air. She thought of an answer. “Aye,” she murmured. “I will not ask you to help me to escape, not now. If you did, you would sign your own death warrant and I could not bear it. But I will ask a favor of you.”

“Anything, my lady,” he replied hoarsely.

She turned away from the window, focusing on him with unnaturally bright eyes. In fact, her entire countenance was very strange and tight as she looked at him.

“I love a man,” she said as she approached him. “He is a good man, a knight of the highest order, and he loves me in return. What we share is something that most people dream of but never experience. Even now, I am sure he searches frantically for me but will probably never find me, at least not before I meet God personally. I must therefore ask you to deliver a message to him. You must promise me.”

Radcliffe looked at her and his face crumpled into tears. Big fat droplets pelted his cheeks as he quickly wiped them away. “I will promise,” he sniffed. “What would you have me tell him?”

She was standing close to Radcliffe now, watching his face as he wept. She stared into his eyes, seeing his sorrow. She realized she had nothing left to lose by telling him everything. Moreover, she was desperate that Rhys should know that her final hours were spent thinking of him and their child. Slowly, she untied the bow that Radcliffe had fussed with, pulling the ribbons away until the robe fell open. With her hands, she pulled her sleeping shift tight across her belly, exposing the rising bubble-shape of her stomach.

“Do you see this?” she asked Edward softly. “This is the child I carry for the man I love. He does not know about this child and I would ask that you tell him. Tell him that my love for him has grown by the day and my joy in our child has made my entire life worth living. Although I will die, I die a happy and fulfilled woman because of his love. Can you do this for me?”

Radcliffe’s eyes were wide on her rounded belly. “God’s Bones,” he gasped. “Is… is that why you have been so ill?”

She nodded, a twinkle in her dull eyes as she revealed her deepest secret. “And tell him something more; tell him that I do not wish for him to grieve overly. I wish for him to find a good woman and have many more children. Tell him… tell him that my wish is for him to find love again.”

Radcliffe broke into soft sobs, wiping furiously at his eyes. Elizabeau pulled her robe closed again and secured the sash. “Will you do this for me, Edward?” she asked quietly. “It is important.”

He nodded, trying to calm himself. “Who is this man? Where will I find him?”

Elizabeau pictured Rhys in her mind, the strong lines of his face and those brilliant blue eyes that were so distinctive. She felt her heart warm at the memory. “His name is Rhys du Bois,” she said softly. “His liege is Christopher de Lohr, Earl of Hereford and Worcester. I imagine you will find him with de Lohr.”

Edward’s tears were fading somewhat. “I know of de Lohr. His seat is Lioncross Abbey, not far from here.”

“Then it will not be too difficult a journey for you to go and relay the message.”

“Nay, it will not,” Edward shook his head. “Is there anything else?”

She smiled wanly at him. “I’ve not had many friends in my lifetime, nor many close relatives,” she said. “In fact, it has only been my mother and I since I was born. But if I had a brother, I would wish for him to be like you. You have been very kind to me in a situation that did not require it and I will miss you.”

His tears returned but he fought them. “I will miss you also, my lady. I am sorry it has come to this.”

“We thought it might, didn’t we?” she said, then eyed him as he wiped at his face. “You will not forget to relay my message to Rhys, will you?”

He shook his head emphatically. Then, he stared at her as his tears once again faded. He was calming quickly, almost too quickly. His manner seemed to take on a strange, eager cast, as if a brilliant thought had just occurred to him. “I will relay the message, my lady,” he nodded firmly. “I promise.”

She patted his cheek and turned away. “Thank you,” she said softly. “Now, if you do not mind, I would like to sit and contemplate the rest of my very short future. I have much to say to my child and would like to do it alone.”

Edward quit the chamber without a word. Retreating to the solar downstairs, he found Lewis hunched over the desk, finishing the first of four missives he would be sending out to the neighboring allies regarding Elizabeau’s execution. The older knight was very business-like in discussing the plans with Edward, who stood next to him and listened silently. When Lewis finished the first missive for Walter Clifford, Edward volunteered to deliver it. Feeling some pity for the knight who had been caged up with the traitor Elizabeau for the past three months, Lewis relented.