To Love Thy Neighbour

[Lady Alainn]

---

As it turned out, the stairs proved to be Eadmund's undoing for the next few days. While they had been difficult enough descending with Rachel's help, it was all he could do to crawl up the steps one inch at a time and flop exhausted onto his bed. Everything in his body ached, especially his arms and side, and yet burned with a desire to kill itself with more activity. Rachel took it upon herself to confine him to the bedroom and increased her visits to keep him there, for the agitated young man rolled himself out of bed at every opportunity to practice walking on his weak ankle. She was kind, opening the window early and closing it late to allow as much fresh air as possible into the room to steady his restless nerves. She was also a tyrant. The soft light in her eye and slight upturn to her lips when she repeated "No" for the hundredth time pacified him into a reluctant submission.

But ah! More than just his body suffered a blow from that ill-fated voyage downstairs. The knowledge that Rachel belonged with another man ate him alive with jealousy. Every moment he spent in the woman's company only confirmed how attached he'd grown to her. He found he couldn't look her in the eye as easily anymore, though he wanted nothing more than to drink in her sweet glances from sun up to sun down. All it took was a gentle laugh, a soft touch on his arm or shoulder, to lower his gaze to his fidgeting fingers in his lap.

Was it sinful to feel this way about her? To be so easy in her company? She wasn't technically married yet, though for her to be betrothed she might as well be. Rachel brought much joy into his otherwise bleak existence. Was it wrong to enjoy it? Or was longing to stroke her dimpled cheek with the back of his fingers going too far? His heart couldn't sort through such confusion sitting down. If only he could climb up on Chester's back and ride until everything fell into place! But he was trapped here in the solitary room, with naught but the bed sheets and a few scripts of poetry for diverting his attention from his agitation. All Eadmund could do was sit and wait, as patiently as possible, for her approval to get up.

At last, the day came. When he kicked back the covers, his side did not pain him nearly as much. It throbbed a little, reminding him it was still healing, but had no complaint when he tested it with a few twists of his torso. His arm still hung limply in its sling and it still would for a few more weeks yet. His ankle, though, seemed to hold his weight decently well when he set his foot down and put a bit of pressure on it.

Outside the pale rays of the early morning sun streamed in through the cracks in the window, taunting him. Eadmund cast a glance towards the door as a mischievous idea took root in his head. There were no footsteps upon the stairs yet to signal Rachel's appearance with his breakfast. Good. He pushed himself the rest of the way off the bed with his good hand and strode confidently to the window, his ankle causing him to little more than limp every few steps or so. It was certainly better than the hobble he'd put up with the week before! As soon as he reached the window, he threw up the sash and fought with the slats to prop it open. Being reduced to one good hand made the job harder than it should have been, but he managed.

Eadmund couldn't help the accomplished grin spreading across his features and stuck his head out to view the yard beneath him. If he leaned out far enough, he found he could just see the edge of the stable roof. He closed his eyes for a moment, straining to pick out Chester's whinny from the rest of the clatter down below though he knew it to be in vain.

 

[Lanawint]

This day was just like any other day so far. Rachel woke up at dawn, and after rubbing her eyes groggily, stumbled over to her bedroom's wash stand to freshen herself up with some water. A bit more awake than previously, she had managed to dress up quite swiftly. Then, there would be the matter of making breakfast for the household. Just like any other day. The last few days had gone by, uneventful, each like the last. As it proved more and more difficult for Eadmund to stay bedridden, Rachel had devoted increasingly more time to take care of him, trying to find any way she could think of to keep him entertained and alleviate the dullness of his daily lot, and also to make sure that he wouldn't risk injuring himself by straining his recovering body too soon.

Yes, everything was pretty much the same. But soon enough, everything would change.

Some things had already changed. She threw a sideglance at the rumpled bed, product of a restless night and sighed, before tiptoeing her way to the kitchen. Time was wasting and soon, everyone would be awake. She had to make sure that the breakfast would be ready for them. She quickly reached the kitchen, grabbed the necessary utensils and started boiling the water and mixing the ingredients for the porridge.

It had become one of her favorite morning ritual. Father would appear soon, and sit in silence. She'd smile at him, and hand him some beer. Then, she'd add some fat bacon to make it even tastier, and pour it in his bowl. And once more, he'd rush to eat it, only stopping to complain that it's too hot and burning his tongue, asking for more as soon as the bowl is emptied. She smiled at the thought while adding the ingredients to the now boiling water. She'd happily complied with his demand, then prepare the tray and walk up the stairs to bring his share to Eadmund. She'd find him probably already awake, waiting impatiently for her. The sound of the door opening momentarily snapped her out of her musing. It was father, just as it had been every other morning. She filled a mug with beer and set it in front of him as he sat in silence. She shook her head amusedly as she started to take care of the bacon. Some things never changed.

But they would.

Yesterday's conversation with her father about Eadmund arose in her mind, sobering her mood. I'm sure he's eager to go back to his home, to his family. Her father's words had stunned her into silence. It shouldn't have. She knew all along that he would one day leave. There was no denying the truth behind those words, as there was no denying the subtle change of Eadmund's mood, the warmth of his gaze withering in what she could only attribute to a certain willfulness.

"Rachel?"

Of course, he must miss his family, and his home. Just because he didn't talk about it didn't mean that he didn't miss it! How insensitive she had been presuming that…

"Rachel?" Her father's voice rang once more, louder this time and she snapped back to see her father putting out of the fire a slightly burned porridge.

"I'm sorry," she stammered quickly out of embarrassment. "I didn't hear you"

"I saw that", the old man grumbled, his wrinkled face etched with concern. "What's the matter with you, girl?"

"I-" Rachel bit her lips. "It's nothing, I'm just a little tired", she added, waving off the comment with a smile. "I'll make a new one". But before she could reach for the pot, her father had already grabbed it and started putting its content into the bowls: "You sit down and eat. This one's good enough as long as you don't scrap the bottom".

"But-"

"You sit now", he reiterated in a tone that didn't invite further discourse and she executed herself hesitantly. "I'll take that upstairs," he added, grabbing the platter, ignoring her attempt to protest and hustled out of the room in direction of Eadmund's bedroom, leaving behind the bacon, and a mystified daughter. Once before the door, he knocked as he opened the door and stepped inside the room. His eyebrows furrowed briefly in surprise at the view of Eadmund's empty bed, only to find him leaning well out of the window. He quickly recovered and after lightly clearing his throat, greeted him affably, lowering his head slightly in deference:

"Good day to you, Sir. I hope you won't mind if I'm the one caring for you today?"​

 

[Lady Alainn]

Eadmund turned abruptly at the sound of the door unlatching. The sudden action dizzied him momentarily and he had to brace himself against the windowsill. He silently chided himself for forgetting the state of his body and allowing a momentary weakness be the first thing Rachel should see this morning. It had taken him days to persuade her he was on the mend after that brief excursion to the stables, that he would soon be walking and needing to exercise his languid muscles and she must let him do so. Today was that day, he knew, and his thoughtless action only proved it to him though it would probably caution his sweet nurse into postponement. Ah, Rachel! Just thinking of how her bright, cheery smile flooded this room with light more beautiful than the sun brought a smile to his lips to greet her.

Only, it was not her.

His smile faltered as a man stepped through the doorway instead. An elderly man. He'd seen him once or twice over the past few weeks of his residence here, yet they had never been properly introduced while Eadmund was in his right mind. But however gruff the old man's appearance in comparison to the quiet sweetness of Rachel, Eadmund could not mistake the similar warmth of the doe-brown eyes. Rachel's father. His host.

Eadmund bowed his head stiffly in return, knowing any protest to differential treatment would likely hurt his host's pride than promote a friendship. They were, after all, on completely separate levels of life, never to be on speaking terms or acknowledgement except in this one, dare he say lucky, instance. To let his host treat his guest as he chose best was the greatest kindness he could offer him. Whereas others of his station might demand or put on airs, he merely accepted the role his host placed him into.

"Good day to you, Sir. I hope you won't mind if I'm the one caring for you today?"

'Yes.' The inward response was so blatant, so pervasive, so sure of itself, Eadmund found himself taken aback. But he quickly regained his faculties and heard himself answering lightly, "No, not at all. I am obliged to you and your gracious hospitality."

The tray was placed on his bedside table. Eadmund crossed the room with careful, deliberate steps to sit down and eat. He was just about to insist his host return to his duties when a thought struck him. He gestured to the robe that had been his outfit for the duration of his stay here. "Would it be inconvenient to ask your assistance in getting dressed today?"

---

He was peering out the window again, fully dressed in his own tunic and trousers, wondering if he should attempt a walk outside or wait for Rachel to visit. With each passing hour it seemed less and less likely she would come to check on him. It was strange that her frequent attentions would suddenly be replaced by her father without word or explanation. What had happened to change their situation here? Had she fallen ill? She'd looked the epitome of health yesterday, though tired. Her father refused to answer any personal questions with straight forward answers.

He had to see her.

He was going mad.

Without Rachel's presence, the room seemed more like a prison to him. It kept him just close enough to the outdoors that he could taste the fresh air on his tongue, yet it divided him from it with the same breath. Eadmund leaned his head out the window, hoping against hope he might catch a glint of brown hair poking out of a wimple in the yard below to reassure himself she was all right.

There!

Off in the distance, towards the other side of the barn. That had to be Rachel. His heartbeat quickened though he was hardly aware of it. Perhaps chores were keeping her busy today. Perhaps he could finally be of service to the family he owed so much to. Without another thought, Eadmund pivoted on his heel and marched [albeit with slow, timed steps] for the door. The temptation to see her was too great to keep him listless in this room any longer. He strode down the short passage and mastered his descent upon the stairs that had previously given him much grief. It took him a moment to remember which way he should go from there to reach the outdoors and then he was walking purposefully again. Through the kitchen, out the back door, stumbling over chickens, then finally towards the barn. He veered to the side where he thought he saw the flash of cloth disappear to and found himself in a large garden.

There, not two feet away, was his Rachel diligently pulling weeds. His shadow fell over her as he drew nearer, his grey eyes soaking in her smallest of movements to commit them to memory. Her head bent over her task in a willing servitude, content to do what most ladies in his station would consider grossly beneath them. Yet the simplicity of her task and her easy, unaffected manner made her even more dear and beautiful to him than any gown or delicate air could possibly make a lady. Rachel made such a sweet, serene picture he almost hated to break it. But break it he did, mustering a jovial yet humble tone despite the husky edge that suddenly seemed to coat his tongue and throat:

"I've come seeking permission to go outdoors today. Do you think my nurse would grant it?"

 

[Lanawint]

Rachel looked up at the familiar voice, and blinked in surprise at the sight before her, her mind racing with questions at Eadmund's sudden appearance. How did he get here? Wait... Her questioning brown eyes left his greys to study her companion's outfit. He no longer wore her father's robe, replaced advantageously by his own clothing. Her cheeks, already flushed from the abiding task of weeding the garden, reddened at her bold examination of the young man, and she hastily dropped her gaze to her feet, and her muddied dress.

Did he do it by himself? Unless her father had helped him? But what of the stairs? Since her father was no longer in Eadmund's room, that meant that he braved the stairwell on his own... Was he okay? If his tone was of any indication, he seemed fine. Fine. The young girl snorted inwardly at the word. Fine was all that she had managed to pry from her father when she enquired about Eadmund's well being earlier. He was fine, and she ought to stop worrying needlessly. Eadmund was fine. She would be fine. Everything and everyone was just... fine.

But what if it was not fine? Her smile stiffened slightly at the though. Putting too much stress on his ankle before it was completely healed could hinder the healing process. And...

And it would be her fault.

Rachel's heart clenched at the thought. He probably went looking for her. If only she hadn't listened to her father! If she had checked on him sooner, he wouldn't be here right now, standing on both of his feet in front of her. Yet, Rachel couldn't help but admit despite her reservations, although begrudgingly, that her father might be right. Maybe Eadmund really was fine and she was being a worrywart. And Eadmund would probably agree with him. Come to think of it, he probably thought of her as such, all those times she had ignored his impassioned pleas to leave his bed. She hoisted herself up to a standing position smiled at him, mechanically straightening her clothing:

"I don't know... I heard she's quite inflexible on such matters. It's probably best if we keep this between us" she jested, pushing back a strand of hair that had managed to escape from her loosened wimple.

Her expression grew serious: "Do you-" She bit her lip hesitantly before adding, unable to hide her concern any longer: "Are you all right? How is your ankle?"​

 

[Lady Alainn]

"It is much better today, thank you," he murmured in response to the subdued change in her tone. His hand, which had instinctively risen to assist her, fell back to his side before it was noticed. It twitched in agitation. Or in disappointment? Now that he was up, now that he was fully- or mostly- functional again, he had intended to-- Intended to what, exactly? Withdraw into the instilled, natural manner in which he reluctantly approached women of his station? Treat Rachel with the same measured, chivalrous attentions such as the kind he lavished upon his sister? Presume she would expect him to think and treat her like a lady born of noble blood?

She was a Jewess kneeling down in her own garden to weed with her own bare hands and didn't know anything different. Rachel hadn't expected to see his hand there. She hadn't looked for his help. She only gave. And gave and gave and gave. Without expecting anything in return. What a blessing such a simplistic life would be! To work for one's own livelihood and expect nothing except to give when one could.

But here he was thinking and surmising to himself when a bewitching pair of brown eyes were doing their best to tease a little more out of him in proof of his claim! Eadmund stepped back with his weak ankle to demonstrate how much weight he could put on it without even so much as a grimace.

"I managed the stairs by myself without feeling the least bit winded. And your dog," he broke off here to offer a slight smile. Turning his attention to the garden once more, he gestured to the row of vegetables she had been working on. "It is a pleasant day for working outside between the bright sun and the steady breeze. Can I be of assistance out here? I would ask your father for some sort of useful employment, but I am afraid that might result in mucking out the barn."

 

[Lanawint]

"I managed the stairs by myself without feeling the least bit winded. And your dog,"

Rachel's face relaxed into a little smile at Eadmund's reassurances, her earlier worries dissipating with the following demonstration. She was usually not one to be too careful, but this was another matter. It was about responsibilities. It was about self-doubt. A responsibility she had tackled, often feeling unprepared. Unfit. And while she found comfort in the encouraging signs of a steady recovery, the young girl still felt responsible for Eadmund's well being.
But while there were times when she had doubted her patient claims of recovery, his plead likely born of his desire not to be bedridden any longer, there was no doubting that he was doing better today. The fact that had managed to go down the stairs by himself, and walk to the garden without any discomfort or pain was proof enough. It was such a relief! It meant that he no longer had to stay confined to his bedroom all day, right? Soon, he could... hh could ride! Seeing how fond he was of Chester, he probably was itching to ride again. Maybe they could even ride together? If... he wished so...

"... Can I be of assistance out here? I would ask your father for some sort of useful employment, but I am afraid that might result in mucking out the barn."

Rachel couldn't help but smile at Eadmund's quip. Her father would have doubtlessly protested against the very idea of having their host do any manual labor for their benefit, especially something as lowly as mucking out the barn. If Eadmund had insisted, he might have relented and tasked him with retrieving one of his book from the bookcase and handing it over or something of the sort. But Eadmund was right, it was such a beautiful day and wasting it indoor would be a pity, and if he really wanted to help, which he seemed intent to, she would very much appreciate his presence at her side. The small grin on her lips had turned into a bright smile as she answered:

"I would gladly welcome the help. Thank you"

The young girl quickly scanned the area. She was about done with her row of vegetables. She still needed to fetch some water from the well and to weed the small patch of medicinal herbs. This wouldn't do. Surely she could entrust him with something that wouldn't be too tasking... Rachel's brows unfurled as her eyes fell upon the plum tree behind her, whose branches, heavy with fruits ripe for picking, almost touched the ground.

"Would you mind helping me gather some fruits, then?"

She quickly crossed the few steps that separated her from the tree, and bent to grab with both hands the basket laying at its feet "We could-" Her words were briefly cut short briefly as a gulf of wind engulfed inside the wimple loosely encircling her head, sweeping it of her head, freeing her ebony locks who were now unceremoniously cascading on her shoulders "-Oh..."​

 

[Lady Alainn]

Eadmund followed her gaze with his own, wondering what task Rachel would settle on for him. A small smile surfaced as the soft brown eyes flickered here, considered that, flickered there, decided against something, then flickered back again. He could tell she was having difficulty pleasing his desire to help as well as her own conscience. His good arm crossed over his chest and rested on his sling as he patiently waited for her to make up her mind. The steady gusts of wind ruffled his hair and whipped his tunic playfully. He breathed in deeply and closed his eyes momentarily, relishing the caresses of fresh air against his neck and face. Oh, how he had missed the outdoors!

Rachel's soft voice broke through his reverie and he opened his eyes once more. Gather fruits? With one arm still condemned to its sling? Yes, he supposed he could do that. He did, after all, still have one good hand. His fingers itched to hold reins but he supposed fruits would suffice in the meantime. Especially if it was to help Rachel. Eadmund ambled after her towards the tree and was just about to reach for the other handle of the basket to help her move it when something extraordinary and thrilling happened.

The wind freed her hair.

Instantly, Eadmund's heart leaped into his throat and he found he could not tear his eyes from the mass of warm, brown curls. They weren't bound in braids or ceremoniously pinned into a tight bun like so many of his father's serfs sported; they were loose, blowing in the wind, tantalizingly open to touch. An unfamiliar sensation curled in his belly and his skin tingled for want of a lock around his finger. He couldn't think. He was frozen, yet his hand was moving. His lips moved.

"Rachel..." Was that his voice? It was thick and deep with the strange emotion heaving in his core. For the moment, her betrothed was forgotten and all Eadmund could think about was the sweet, wonderful woman so vulnerable before him. The backs of his fingers brushed against her cheek as they nestled into the soft folds of hair behind her ear. "...has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?"