A few minutes later Geoffrey rode into the churchyard, Nicolas at his side. As the two swung out of the saddles I made a clumsy attempt to rise from my seat, but Geoffrey motioned me down again with a wave.
“You are not so ill as we feared,” he said quietly, bending over me. “You’ve had company, then? Good,” he continued as I nodded. “You will be able to ride. Pillion, behind Nicolas. I had feared that we should have to wait the night and return for you tomorrow with a cart!” His teeth flashed in a quick smile and he reached out a hand to help me to my feet. Jehan appeared then from the crypt with my cloak and sword. Geoffrey took the sword and wrapped the cloak well about me before helping me up behind Nicolas. He seemed to float into his own saddle as Jehan rapidly settled back into his wolf shape to run ahead with the smaller wolf, whom I had recognized as Sylvie.
We arrived back at the manor just before dawn, and I was dimly aware that I was no longer riding pillion behind Nicolas but that Geoffrey’s strong arms held me on his saddlebow. I was caught up in those same arms and carried like a child as Geoffrey slid from his horse. Jehan and Sylvie had arrived before us, by at least long enough to clothe themselves, and met us at the door. “My lord,” my voice sounded faint in my ears, “I can walk.”
“That you cannot,” Geoffrey answered curtly and I submitted to being carried to my chamber. Jehan had a bath prepared, and I sank gratefully into the warm water to soak my makeshift bandages loose. Jehan disappeared with the rest of my clothing, returning a few minutes later behind Geoffrey. The wet bandages came free easily, and Geoffrey praised Jehan for his skill. He bathed the wound and dressed it after Jehan had helped me from the bath then left for his own rest, the day-trance having overtaken me before the bandaging was done.
When I awoke, the room was candlelit, and I was not alone. Sylvie curled her young body around me, holding me close and kissing me softly on the neck and throat. I returned the kisses gently, moving from the hairline behind her ear to the vein beneath. I felt her tense and shiver, not in fear, but with delighted anticipation, then her blood filled my mouth and she moaned her completion into the tangles of my hair. I held her for a time, then watched as she rose to fetch the tray she had thoughtfully provided: red wine and two glasses, strips of nearly raw steak, and a sallet of sorrel and red rose petals. I poured the wine and sipped mine while I dressed. I too had come to prefer the loose trousers that Geoffrey favored, as they allowed much more freedom of motion than the canions and trunkhose I had worn in life, and I scorned the paunchy, stuffed, peascod-bellied doublets then in fashion for slim-cut doublets with a slightly longer skirting. I had noticed that some of the younger gallants were beginning to copy my dress at court, although not in the somber colors I perforce affected there. My shoulder felt much better, but, reckoning that someone would want to look at it, I did not lace up my shirt front, and settled for merely slipping the doublet over my shoulders. I left Sylvie napping in my bed and made my way downstairs.
When I reached the great hall I found Lord Haggard and Lady Alyssa, his wife and Geoffrey’s mother-in-blood, watching Geoffrey and Nicolas engage in a practice duel. I was fascinated to watch Geoffrey backed step by step into defeat, to end with Nicolas’s bright blade at his throat. They stood frozen in the pose for a moment, and then Nicolas turned and bowed to the applause that broke out from several widely spaced areas of the hall. Geoffrey grimaced and Nicolas strolled over to me. “It does you good, I think, to see me get the better of Geoffrey, yes?” I nodded, smiling wryly. “Well, come into the light and we will see to that wound—”He broke off and turned his head to listen to the unfamiliar voice at the end of the hall. Unfamiliar to him, but I recognized it instantly: Ralegh. Leaving Nicolas without a word, I walked swiftly to him.