Medieval 01 - Untamed

Dominic, he was also captive to her . The thought gave Meg a certain fierce satisfaction.
    Even so, she was glad when Dominic turned away from his leman to answer a question from Simon. A moment later Dominic nodded and signaled to his squire.
    Soon both brothers were fully attired for battle. When they stepped into an open space in the bailey, the contests of the other knights slowed and then halted. Even the most battle-toughened knight learned something new when the two brothers tested each other’s skill.
    At an unseen signal, Dominic and Simon sprang forward, wielding their heavy blades with deceptive ease. Physically the brothers were well-matched. Both were taller than was common, broader of shoulder, stronger, and quicker. It was like watching a man fight himself.
    The wicked whistle of steel slicing through air made Meg hold her breath. The blows the brothersrained upon one another would have quickly felled smaller men. At first it seemed that one of them must surely give way before the onslaught. Gradually it became clear that while Dominic had a slight edge in strength, Simon had a slight edge in quickness. The only question was which man would first put to use his superior gift in a telling way.
    Again and again Meg bit back a cry as it seemed certain that Dominic would catch a savage blow to the ribs or head. Each time he lifted his shield at the last instant, absorbing the blow. Then his own sword would glitter savagely as it descended, only to have Simon slip much of the blow with a lithe movement of his body. Both brothers crouched, circled, feinted, and attacked again and again, until Meg thought one of them must surely lose strength or quickness, giving the battle to the other.
    â€œLady,” called someone softly from the hall. “Are you there? ’Tis Marta.”
    â€œThe lord has forbidden anyone to speak with me for a time,” Meg said reluctantly. “Hurry away before you are seen and punished.”
    â€œâ€™Tis Harry’s wife, lady. The baby has been trying to come for near two days now, but she is too weak to push it out.”
    â€œWhere is Gwyn?”
    â€œOver to the Dale settlement trading medicines with a wise woman from the south. You are sorely needed, my lady.”
    Meg began stripping off gold bells from her wrists. The jewelry would only get in the way of what was to come.
    â€œI’m on my way, Marta. Leave before you’re discovered.”
    â€œAye, lady.”
    There was a pause, then, “Must you take the straight way out? ’Tis sure the Norman devil’sguard—er, your husband’s knight will see you.”
    â€œThere is another way. Now go!”
    â€œGod love you, gentle lady. I am gone.”
    Meg grabbed a special smock from an oddly carved chest, took the bottle from the hidden niche, and opened the door to the hall. As she stepped through the doorway, Dominic’s warning echoed in her head:
    You have tasted my mercy and found it sweet. But a wise man shows mercy only once to the same person. Do not fight me again, wife .
    Yet she had, and now she must once more.
    Without hesitation, Meg closed the door behind her and rushed down the hall. There was no other choice for her to make. Harry’s wife would surely die without aid, and the babe with her.
    Ignoring the curious stares of the servants, who knew well what their lord’s orders had been, Meg pelted down winding stairs in a wild flurry of her remaining golden bells. She ransacked the herbal, shoving packets of herbs and tightly stoppered potions into a basket along with the painkiller, the antidote, and the smock.
    Instead of climbing back up the stairs to the forebuilding and the stone doorway guarded by Dominic’s blond mercenary, Meg lit a small candle and went into the deepest part of the herbal. Rack upon rack of herbs, bark, stems, seeds, and flowers were drying in a darkness that the single candle flame seemed to make greater rather than to lessen.
    Behind the last rack, hidden in the utter darkness and closed off by a heavy wooden wheel, there was an opening barely large enough for a kneeling man to squeeze through. It was the keep’s bolthole, the last escape for the lord and his family if the place ever was overrun by enemies.
    Meg put her shoulder to the wheel, pushed itaside, and dropped to her hands and knees. A light so faint it could have been imagined rather than real showed at the farthest reach of the tunnel. She