The Falls of Erith (2 page)

They
hauled the hysterical girl onto the grass where her mother collapsed beside
her, pulling her into her arms.  The young girl wept loudly as her mother
comforted her with compassion, with gratefulness.  Everyone could breathe again
now that the girl was safe and if one listened closely, a collective sigh of
relief could be heard.

“You
are safe now, sweetheart,” Gray whispered, holding her daughter tightly. “Stop
crying. You are safe.”

The
knights were winded, wiping sweat and mud from their faces, watching the
exchange.  They were spent but relieved they could contribute to a happy
ending; when they had first heard the screaming from their encampment to the
south, they had no idea what they would find.  Truth be told, screaming women
were never a good thing. Not one of them would deny that there had been a bit
of apprehension as they had followed the sounds.

“Is
she all right?” the older knight asked.

Gray
allowed her daughter to weep for a few moments longer before pulling back,
holding her child’s face between her hands and looking hard at her. “Are you
well?”

The
girl sniffled, sobbed, wiped at her cheeks. “I… I am not hurt.”

“What
happened?”

Brooke
shrugged. “I am not sure,” she gasped. “I was looking at the water and suddenly
I slipped. I guess I drew too close to the edge.”

Gray
smiled gently, feeling quite weak with relief. She honestly hadn’t been sure
she would ever share a moment like this again with her child, the tender
embrace between a mother and her offspring.  It was heavenly, something that
renewed her spirit.

“I
would say that is a fair assessment,” she murmured, kissing her daughter’s wet
cheek. “Now, stop weeping and thank these brave men who have come to your aid,
for without them, you and I would have surely been in a predicament.”

Brooke
was struggling to calm. As the minutes passed and she realized she wasn’t dead
at the bottom of the falls, she simply felt ill and somewhat shocked.  She
allowed her mother to pull her to shaky legs, all the while turning her focus
to the three knights standing a few feet away.  Her gaze found the big knight
with the long blond hair, the one who had risked himself to save her.  Shaken,
she tried to curtsy but it came out quite unsteady.  She almost tipped over in
the attempt.

“Th-thank
you,” she sniffed. “You saved my life.”

The
young knight smiled at her. “It was my pleasure, my lady.”

“What
is your name?”

“Sir
Dallas Aston,” he indicated the men standing next to him. “This towering man
with the red hair is Sir Geoff de Mandeville and the third knight is our liege,
Sir Braxton de Nerra.”

Brooke
regarded the three of them carefully; her savior, with his striking good looks,
the tall knight with the dark red hair, and the muscular knight with the graying
blond hair.  They gazed back at her with varying degrees of kindness and
curiosity, which began to stir Brooke’s spirits. It was rare when she was
exposed to men, and certainly rarer still with men of this caliber. She knew
just by looking at them that they were chivalrous, powerful knights that all
ladies dream of.  Her heart stirred a little more at the thought of these
strong men saving her.  It almost made the memory of the event pleasant; it
would certainly make a good story in years to come.

“I
am the Lady Brooke Serroux,” she seemed to be perking up a little. “Perhaps you
will share sup with us tonight so we can properly thank you. Can we invite
them, Mama? Please?”

With
the focus suddenly on her, Gray was uncomfortable. She hesitated in her reply.
“Of course we should, but perhaps Sir Braxton and his men have other plans. I
am sure they are very busy and we have taken enough of their time.”

Brooke
turned her sweet face to Braxton, the leader of the knights.  Her eyes lit up.

“Do
you have other plans?” she asked hopefully. “Could you come and stay with us
tonight? Perhaps you could tell us about your dangerous adventures.”

“Brooke,”
Gray chided softly, quieting her. She looked at the knight. “I am sorry, my
lord. She is an eager young girl and has not learned the art of tact yet.  I am
sure you are far too busy to sup with us.”

Braxton
met her gaze.  “My men and I are on our way to Kendal. But we would be honored
to sup with you tonight if you would be kind enough to have us.”

Brooke
looked thrilled. Gray looked pale.  “We… we do not set a fine table, my lord,”
Gray insisted weakly; she knew it was a losing battle. “I am sure you must be
accustomed to much finer accommodations.”

Braxton
did not pick up on her reluctant tone. “My lady, the woods are our usual
accommodations. Supping beneath a roof would be as grand as we could imagine.”

She
just looked at him. Then she forced a smile. “We would be honored, my lord.”

Her
disinclination suddenly came clear to him. Not wanting to be a burdensome
guest, he sought to make his presence more attractive.  “We have all manner of
bounty that we have hunted from these woods. Just this morning, we downed a
three point buck. It should be enough food for an army. We shall bring all that
we have and share it with our gracious hosts.”

Brooke
clapped her hands. “Meat!” she said gleefully. “It has been a long time since
we’ve had such a treat. Oh! I must retrieve my berries. I dropped them when I
slipped.”

She
was off. Gray tried to stop her, to at least admonish her from getting too
close to the edge again, but Brooke wasn’t listening. The falls roared,
drowning out the mother’s pleas.   Brooke collected her basket, near the edge
of the cliff, and quickly backed off.  But off to her right she caught sight of
a bush with fat black berries and she darted in that direction.  Gray watched
her daughter, looking to the knights after a moment with some uncertainty.

“My
thanks to you again, gentle knights,” she said in her soft, sultry voice. “I… I
suppose I should collect my own basket. I dropped it somewhere in the trees.”
She looked back over at her daughter, now busy several feet away yanking
berries off the bush. “Come along, young woman; ‘tis time to leave. Do you hear
me?”

Braxton
put up a hand. “I will collect your daughter, madam. You go and find your
basket.”

Gray
was a little unsure about leaving the minding of her daughter to a stranger,
but she reckoned that the mere fact he had just saved Brooke’s life warranted
some amount of trust.  Still, she couldn’t help her natural suspicion; she
wasn’t trusting by nature, especially with men.

She
hesitated and Braxton saw it; in spite of their altruistic intentions, he was
well aware that they were all strangers.  Now that the terror of her daughter’s
predicament had passed, an odd suspicion was settling.  He was positive the
woman would turn and run from them given half a chance and it occurred to him
that he had not particularly eased the situation. Now that the chaos had
settled, he realized that he didn’t even know her name.

Braxton’s
gaze lingered on her. “To whom do I have the pleasure of addressing, madam?”

She
looked puzzled. “My lord?”

“Your
name, lady. I do not know your name.”

Embarrassment
crossed her lovely face. “My apologies, my lord,” she said. “I am the Lady Gray
Serroux.”

“Gray?
Of the Northumberland Grays?”

She
nodded her head. “My mother is of the family. She named me Gray in honor of the
House.”

He
understood more clearly. “Gray is your Christian name?”

“I
was christened Gray Isabella.”

It
was as unusual and beautiful as she was. Somehow, she didn’t look like an
Elizabeth or Elinor or Anne.   He studied the woman for a moment; he simply
couldn’t help himself. Her features were angelic with her lusciously smooth
skin, round cheeks and pert nose.  She had long blond hair, lush and pillowy
lips, and eyes of the most amazing amber color.  He could have gazed into those
eyes forever; in fact, the only word that came to mind when he looked at her
was exquisite.  Like a goddess descended, she had him in her spell whether or
not she knew it.  Like a baited fish, Braxton was hooked.

“Lady
Gray,” he smiled at her, not realizing his men were looking between him and the
lady, realizing their liege was quite smitten with her. “It is a pleasure
making your acquaintance even under these harsh circumstances.  If you will
permit me, I will collect your daughter for you and escort you both back to
Erith.”

He
sounded so sincere; Gray would have had a difficult time refusing him in any
case. Although her natural suspicion and reserve screamed for her to resist the
man and his attempts, somehow, she wasn’t able to. Perhaps it was because he
had saved her only child or perhaps it was simply because she was growing
stupid in her old age. Whatever the case, she went in search of the basket she
had dropped on her wild run to Brooke’s aid, all the while thinking on the
broad knight with the blue-green eyes. 

Braxton
watched Gray wander back into the trees, whistling softly at one of his men to
go with her for protection.  Geoff took the order and followed the lady as
Dallas and the men at arms moved back in the direction of their encampment. 
With everyone on the move, Braxton went after Lady Brooke.

She
was yanking berries off a stubborn branch that refused to give way.  Braxton
walked up beside her and she glanced over at him, smiling as she popped off a
resistant berry and put it in her basket. Braxton returned her smile politely.

“Are
you ready to go, my lady?” he asked. “A feast awaits you.”

Brooke’s
delicate eyebrows lifted. “Feast? What feast?”

He
pointed at the basket. “Those are a start.”

She
looked at the berries and shrugged. “Berries are not a feast, although these
berries are very sweet. We return here every year.” She glanced over her
shoulder toward the direction of the roaring falls; she could see the spray
billowing up over the tops of the foliage. “Although I suppose now we will
never return here. My mother will be afraid I will end up in peril again.”

Braxton
lifted his eyebrows. “You were indeed in a quandary. How did you slip, anyway?”

Brooke
shrugged irritably; for someone who was close to dying just a few minutes
earlier, she had bounced back admirably, which was a tribute to her young
resilience.

“I
do not know,” she said with some irritation, as if he had asked a probing
question. “What matters is that my mother will no longer trust me now. She
already treats me like a child. Now she will never let me out of her sight
again.”

He
wriggled his eyebrows. “It is only because she does not want to see you come to
harm. As you have discovered, wandering alone out here in the woods can more
than likely invite that.”

Brooke
lifted an eyebrow. He could read in her expression that she believed he was
siding with her mother. “I am not a child,” she said indignantly. “My
grandmother says that I am a woman. And I am.”

Braxton
didn’t dare smile, though he wanted to. “I see. And what does your father say?”

She
jutted her chin in the air. “My father is no longer alive but, if he was, I am
sure he would agree that I am a woman grown. And I do not need my mother to
nursemaid my every move.”

She
was certainly a spitfire.  But he realized that her statement brought him
pleasure; so her mother was a widow. Braxton didn’t know why he felt joyful
about it, but he did.

“Be
that as it may, I am sure your mother is only doing what she feels is best,” he
glanced over to the distant tree line where Lady Gray and Geoff had
disappeared. “Shall we go and find her?”

Brooke
frowned, shrugged, and then finally relented. Braxton took her arm gently,
escorting her towards the tree line and away from the treacherous falls. Brooke
stole glances at him when she thought he wasn’t looking.

“What
are you doing here?” she asked; there was nothing greater than the curiosity of
a fifteen-year-old. “Where do you come from?”

His
blue-green eyes fixed on her. “My men are camped on the other side of the trees
down there to the south,” he said. “And I come from Northumbria.”

“Does
your family live there?”

“My
father lives there.”

“Do
you live with him?”

He
shook his head. “I do not live anywhere.”

She
was puzzled. “But you are a knight. Surely you have a House.”

They
approached the edge of the trees where Braxton had last seen Lady Gray.  “I am
a knight bannerette,” he said simply. “I am not sworn to one particular liege.”

Brooke
was quickly forgetting about her near-death experience, now focused on
Braxton’s life story. “You are a bachelor knight?” she asked, awed. “So you
travel everywhere and fight for whomever you wish. How exciting! Have you been
to many wonderful places?”

“Nay,
lass, I am not a bachelor knight,” he corrected her. “I said that I am a knight
bannerette; there is a difference. Bachelor knights do not have men sworn to
them. I have one hundred and eighty.  And yes, I have been to many wonderful
places.”