“Aye, and what of my head,” he interrupted sharply. “How can I live without memory, without sense of who I am? I will not be thought a pitiable imbecile who hangs on your skirts!”
Releasing his hand, Lilly rose quickly to her feet. “Have done with this. What I offer is love not pity. You are a strong man. You are no imbecile. What you do not know, you will learn. Once we have you returned to Radburn, to all that is familiar to you, we will rebuild your memory.”
With effort, he raised his hand and reached for hers. “Forgive me; I find this frustration hard to bear and I know not what I say. You are right, I must have fortitude. If it is so important to you, bring me the gruel.”
He watched her as she moved away, his eyes concentrating on the soft swaying of her hips. Surely he should remember a woman of such beauty, but he did not. He was a man and as such appreciated her comeliness; even in his present state he recognised her appeal. Why then, did he not remember her as being his?
As evening fell, he heard the sounds of decampment from outside the tent and realised that at sunrise he would be required to endure the tortuous journey to the place she called their home, Radburn. His entourage was large, or so he believed and he had been assured that they would travel to accommodate him, that he would not be required to endure more than he was able, but still he dreaded the mere thought of upheaval.
****
The pain in his head woke him. He had slept far into the night and all was quiet in the tent. Only the even breathing of his wife as she slept nearby disturbed the silence. He felt a weight depress the foot of his pallet but he could not make out who sat there. The weight shifted further up the pallet until it rested by his uninjured knee.
“Father,” said a small voice. “Father ’tis me.”
It was impossible to see in the velvet darkness but in his mind’s eye he saw a six- year old boy with midnight hair, whose features so resembled his own.
“Dominique?” he said reaching out his hand, and cold little fingers clutched his. Not knowing why, he felt an unutterable sadness but he returned the pressure of the child’s hand.
“You’re cold lad,” he said, lifting his blanket. “Here, lie with me. I will warm you.”
The boy curled up at his father’s side, leaching the warmth from his body and a great peace stole over him. It felt so natural that the boy should be there, so right.
“Could you not sleep?” Miles asked, placing his arm about the small shoulders.
“I was thinking of the times you took me hunting Father and when you taught me to fish. Do you remember?”
“Aye lad, I do.”
“And we didn’t tell Mother how often I fell when you taught me to ride?”
Miles smiled into the darkness, tightening his arm about his son. “Soon I will teach you how to wield a sword, to defend yourself, in preparation for the day when you become a knight.”
The boy gave a contented sigh and snuggled closer against his father’s thigh and he could feel the weight of the child’s head on his hip and heard his breathing deepen. Dominique slept and so did he.
When he awoke, it was to the sound of men and horses as they prepared for imminent departure.
Seeing him awake, Lilly came immediately to his side, relieved to see that he appeared much improved and well-rested.
For the first time since the battle, there was no pain in his body and he greeted her with a warm, welcoming smile.
“The boy, where is the boy?” he demanded, light-headed at the revelation that all had come back to him.
“The boy?” she queried. “You require your squire?”
“Nay, my son,” he smiled. “He spent the night at my side. Where is Dominique?
She blanched visibly. “You remember Dominique?” she said, a catch in her voice.
He smiled broadly. “Rejoice with me my love. It was the boy, coming to me as he did, that brought back my memory. I didn’t think of it at the time. I just recognised my son. I wasn’t even aware of the exact moment that all fell into place; only that it did. Now I remember everything!”
She sank to her knees beside him. “Not quite …everything, love…
“Aye, everything. It has been nigh a sennight since the battle, why have you kept him from me? Did you fear he would disturb me, for he did not? The boy helped me remember!”
Slowly, her slender frame crumpled and she pressed her face into his shoulder and he felt the wetness of her tears.
“Dominique is dead,” she wept. “You stood by his grave but six months past.”
