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.


Tags: Donna Fletcher Warrior Romance