The Falls of Erith by Kathryn Le Veque Page A

him so.  Silently, he reached out and scooped
her into his arms.  She didn’t look as if she couldn’t walk another step.
    Surprisingly,
she did not protest. Her arms went around his neck and he could feel her hot
breath on his jaw. He knew she was watching him.  He was almost to the steps that
led back into the keep when he felt her head, soft and sweet, lay down against
his shoulder.
    “Would…
would you mind if we sat by your fire, my lord?” she asked softly.
    He
paused at the base of the steps and turned around, facing the south wall where
three small fires blazed. “Those?”
    “Aye.”
    “Why
would you want to sit there when there is a warm hall at the top of these
stairs?”
    Her
head came up, the amber eyes fixed on him. “Because it is full of people. You
have asked fair questions, my lord. I would give you answers, but not for all
to hear. I… I thought we could speak privately if, indeed, you still seek
answers to your questions.”
    He
didn’t argue. In fact, his pace picked up as he went over to the first of the
three small blazes. He set her on her feet and she weaved dangerously. He
reached out to steady her.
    “Are
you feeling ill?”
    She
waved him off weakly. “I shall be all right.”
    “When
did you eat last?”
    Her
head snapped in his direction and he could see the shame in her eyes.
“Yesterday,” she lied. “I had a large meal. I simply haven’t been hungry until
now.”
    He
didn’t want to dispute her, but Brooke’s hint of how her mother went without
food because there was not enough to go around rang loudly in his mind.  He
pulled out the nearest bedroll and put it on the ground under her.
    “Sit,”
he ordered quietly. “I shall go and retrieve your meal.”
    “Nay,
please.…”
    He
was insistent. “I have not yet eaten myself. Sit there and I shall return.”
    Gray
was too weak to argue. She watched him cross the bailey, noting the confidence
and power to his stride. He took the steps two at a time and disappeared into
the keep.  She began to relax, watching the flames as they danced before her.
It was hypnotic, easing the strain on her mind. Before she realized it, Braxton
was back, a hefty trencher in each hand, a wooden pitcher of the cheap wine
hooked into a finger, and wooden cups under both arms. 
    Gray
took the pitcher from him and both cups as he sat beside her.  Neither one of
them spoke as she poured the wine and accepted her trencher from him. As the
fire blazed soothingly into the dark Cumbrian sky, Gray delved into the first
real meal she had eaten in days.
    Braxton
ate silently beside her, watching her from the corner of his eye.  He could see
that she was famished, stuffing her mouth so full that she could barely chew.
The action touched him deeply.  Like her daughter, she was starving. There
simply wasn’t enough for everyone and Gray suffered so that others would not
starve. He doubted the grandmother felt the same pangs. He suspected the old
woman took what she wanted without regard for anyone else. She looked like the
type.
    “You
were going to answer my questions,” he reminded her casually.
    Gray
swallowed the bite in her mouth, chasing it with a long drink of the bitter
wine. “Which question would you have answered?”
    His
blue-green eyes fixed on her. “Why are you so mistrustful of my actions?”
    She
met his eyes; the urge to shy away was overwhelming.  “I… I really don’t know.
Perhaps it is because no man has ever been particularly truthful to me. Not my
husband or my father.” She lifted a hand to suggest he look at their
surroundings. “Erith is all I have. I am a lone woman with no army.  I must
protect myself and my family. It was stupid of me to allow you and your army
inside these walls.”
    “Yet
you did. Do you believe me now when I tell you I have no intention of stealing
your fortress?”
    She
shrugged. “I suppose I must.”
    “I
could take Erith at any time and you’d not be able to stop me. You might