Day 4

They lay together, spent and sweaty, as the dawn broke. When they finally arose and dressed for the day, he admired the chain about her waist. Helena asked, at last, what the Dancer's name was.

"Nandi. You should feel honored; she rarely gives such a gift."

Helena looked down, "I wanted to give her something but I have nothing so fine..." He kissed her then and striped off her shift. "Sire! What..." she was mortified when he stuffed it into his pack, "Sire, no! 'Tis old and worn. Unclean. 'Tis hardly a fit gift for one so fine as she!"

"Give me another then." He smiled.

She picked up her dress, "I only have the one. I shall have to make another."

"That it is your only one makes it rare and more valuable and that it is yours she will know."

Helena waited and when it became clear that he would not give the garment back, put on the wool frock without it. "Will she wear such a thing?"

He laughed, "No!" then he kissed her, "but she will cherish it, no doubt. You gave her much pleasure. Few have done that."

Helena was able to remain collected through the serving of breakfast and even during the formal goodbye in the courtyard. They had said private word before leaving his chamber and a public display would hardly be fitting for the General. So Sir Bogud left as he came, alone, astride his great steed. Helena watched him into the distance from the battlements and continued watching until sunset imagining she could see him and his army moving to the south and to the seas to Rome. Only then did she weep. Never, she thought. I will never know another like that.

A hand gently stroked her back. She turned expecting Adele or Colin but found instead Sir Moreland.

He spoke tenderly as he brush a stray hair from her cheek, "Child, why ye weep so?" He used his own shirtsleeve to dry her eyes, "Are ye hurt?"

She tried to stop the tears and turned away from him, "No, Sire, I am well."

"Surely, you could tell a more clever lie than that." Despite his gruff appearance, his manner and tone were kind, which seemed to spur more emotion. Tears broke through and she wept uncontrollably for a few minutes. Sir Moreland folded her into his arms and held her tightly, soothing her and rocking her gently.

When she calmed down some, she pulled away from him - embarrassed by her display. "Thank you, Sire." She sniffed and dried her eyes. "I am better now. I should be going, sure."

Sir Moreland took her hand, "Nay. Please, bide awhile." He lowered himself to the floor and patted the space beside him.

Helena sat, feeling sad, foolish and lost. "Now," Sir Moreland said taking her hands in a fatherly manner, "Did ye truly lose your heart to Sir Bogud?"

Helena nodded mournfully.

"Love? The Moor?" He arched an eyebrow, "Truly? In no more than three days?"

She nodded again fighting another crying spell.

Sir Moreland lifted her chin, "Now look at me child - remember I saw what ye did in those three days. In the wardroom. And in the stable."