She looked at Glenda and the other woman helping her, Patricia someone had called her. The two women possessed the same worn looks as the man, as though life had been harsh on them, especially Glenda. Deep lines and wrinkles intruded on a pretty round full face and bright blue eyes; a scar marred the right side of her jawbone. She may have been young in age, but she had been aged by life.
Mary sopped up the stew with piece after piece of bread, Glenda and Patricia encouraging her to eat as much as she wished.
Michael joined her at the narrow table and ate sparingly. He was quick to excuse himself explaining he had matters to attend to. Mary waved her arm to let him know she would be fine. She was enjoying the food and was not ready to stop eating. She looked forward to feeling clean again and a bed, a real bed with a warm blanket— Her thoughts had rushed to a halt. Michael would not be sleeping beside her tonight. She needed his warmth no more, but the safety and comfort of his arms was a different matter.
Michael hesitated at the door. “Glenda and Patricia will see to your needs.”
“Aye, she will be fine,” Glenda said, her smile generous.
Patricia agreed with a nod and Mary noticed how thin and pale the young woman looked, almost as if it had been some time since she had last eaten.
Glenda must have thought the same for when Michael left along with William, the man he had been speaking with, she encouraged Patricia to eat.
“You barely touched your meal; share the stew with Mary.”
Mary nodded eagerly and held out a hunk of bread to the thin woman.
Patricia hesitated until Glenda nudged her to take the bread and sit at the table.
“We will all share the meal and enjoy the delicious brew Patricia made,” Glenda said, filling tankards for them all.
Mary held up her tankard, smiled, and nodded to let Patricia know how much she enjoyed the drink.
Patricia gave a meek smile.
“Herbs and flowers,” Glenda said. “She does not share the secret of her mix with us, but she is generous in preparing it for everyone.”
Glenda continued to do most of the talking and Mary tried not to yawn between mouthfuls, but fatigue was fast overpowering her and soon she would not have the strength to lift her goblet.
“Patricia, go see if you can find a nightdress for Mary while I help her wash.” The young woman hurried off.
Glenda soon had the table cleaned and a bucket of water and cloth brought in for Mary’s use. She did not ask permission to help, she simply took charge and in minutes had Mary out of her tunic and shift with a blanket wrapped around her. Mary was grateful for her assistance, but tired as she was she could not let someone else see to her needs. She had to rely on herself; it was important for her to know that. She took the cloth from Glenda with a tender smile of appreciation and began to wash herself.
“You should know this is a special place.”
Mary had a feeling it was and listened as Glenda explained.
“The Dark One has saved everyone here. Patricia was being starved and abused by her manor lord and then he accused her of heresy. She found herself in one of Decimus’s dungeons.” She paused, rubbed her scarred jaw, then seemed to garner strength and continued. “I was in the same dungeon, accused of practicing the black arts because of my healing skills. I heard Patricia’s every scream as she did mine.” She touched her scar again. “I thank God for the Dark One’s courage every day. He brought us here to safety and it is here we help him in his task of securing safe places for all those he rescues.”
Mary scrubbed the dried dirt from her skin while Glenda’s every word reinforced her fear of Decimus and inflamed her anger. He inflicted punishment on people without care to the truth.
“The Dark One is a good man. We trust him and care for him.” She stuck her chin up. “And it matters not what lies beneath his dark garb for his intentions are pure.”
Mary realized then that Michael took no fee for his services. He unselfishly rescued the innocent, but why? Why was he a savior to so many? The more she learned about Michael the more intrigued she became with him.
“We are a village of discards; no one wants us or cares what happens to us, no one, that is, except the Dark One. He cares and sees that we are kept safe.” She lowered her voice. “There is nothing that he would not do for us or we for him.”
She suddenly beamed, a smile that lighted the whole cottage. “The Dark One even found me a husband. He rescued Terence from Decimus last year and brought him here after his hand was cut off under torture.” Glenda’s eyes filled with tears and she had to clear her throat to finish her tale. “The Dark One carried him into the village, brought him right to me and told me to look after him, that he needed my smile to make him well.”
Mary grew nauseous over the horrific pain and suffering experienced by all three. She could not imagine how anyone with a heart or soul could do such a thing. Only pure evil was capable of such horrendous torture. Decimus was surely the devil’s own.
“We were wed three months ago and Terence told everyone that when he looked upon my face, he knew he would be well because an angel was taking care of him.” Glenda wiped a tear away as Patricia quietly entered the cottage.
“Put the nightdress on the bed and come help me wash Mary’s hair, if you will, Patricia.” Glenda said, then looked to Mary. “That is if you would like our help?”
Mary nodded and smiled. She felt as if it had been forever since her hair had been clean and she was simply too tired to wash it herself.
Patricia spoke softly, but Mary heard. “Clean hair feels so very good.”
Mary nodded vigorously just before both women set to work.
It took a bit of time to wash away the dirt and grime then comb the tangles out, but Glenda and Patricia were patient and by the time they were done Glenda exclaimed, “My lord, you have beautiful blond hair.”
“I have never seen such a stunning color,” Patricia said and touched the long strands. “It is an angel’s color for sure, pure and light.”
The door opened slowly and Michael walked in.
Glenda, with Patricia’s help, hastily rid the cottage of any mess, turned back the soft blue wool blanket on the straw mattress, and after a quick blessing for a good night’s sleep, the two women closed the door behind them.
Michael made no move; he remained near the closed door staring at her.
The silence grew uncomfortable, Mary wondering if there was a problem. Exhausted and fearing it might be necessary to continue their journey without rest, she turned wide, questioning eyes on him.
He walked over to her. “Nothing is wrong. It is just that you are so very beautiful.”
She never felt comfortable when someone commented on her beauty. She did not think herself any different than other women, but since she could remember people, men and women alike, commented on her beauty. It was a neverending litany she attempted to ignore, feeling her looks common enough.
Strangely this time she felt different with the compliment coming from Michael. It pleased her.
She wished she could thank him for the compliment and tell him that she thought him a brave and unselfish man. Instead she displayed her deep gratitude with a significant gesture, she pressed her fingers to her lips then pressed them to his lips, the black shroud feeling coarse against her fingertips.
They both stood rigid when the implications of her actions settled in. She had actually expressed her feelings with a kiss and the thought startled her.