My Man Godric Read Online Free

armed as well, though he did not
wear a helmet and carried no shield. So no battle was imminent
then, but there was worry enough to have him ready for one. Bertie
tried to keep his smile and conceal his concern, but feared he
failed.
    Godric seemed to misunderstand his frown and
gestured toward the bathwater. “Enjoy it. It might be your last
chance for some time unless you are willing to risk a stream.”
    Bertie shivered as he removed his gold and
rubbed at his sore neck. “I am far too delicate for an icy stream,
Godric, everyone knows that.”
    “Delicate,” Godric repeated, his chin rising
slightly. It fell again when skin-and-bones Godric headed over to
curl around his feet. Not hiding his envy of a cat, Bertie sighed,
then set to work untying the leather straps on his boots. “You are
perhaps soft, my lord, but not delicate,” Godric mused, possibly to
himself for he did not look at Bertie. “A delicate man would not
have survived in those mountains with winter approaching and danger
behind every tree. A delicate man would not have made a journey of
nine days in seven, with injured and weak people to care for and
only his stories of Camlann to keep them warm.”
    Godric stared at the cat that bore his name
and so did not see Bertie freeze with his hands on his shirt
hem.
    “My people? You saw to them.” Bertie had no
doubt Godric had cared for them, but he could not add to his
burdens. Once he was clean and dressed, he would go out and see to
them himself. His shoulders and neck still felt heavy but Bertie
was not certain the gold was entirely to blame.
    “As requested, my lord.” Godric nodded,
going on when Bertie sighed again, with pleasure this time. “Beds
found. Mouths fed. Wounds bandaged, as needed.”
    “Praise the Lady. Thank you, Godric.”
    “I spoke to them,” Godric offered, and
Bertie glanced over curiously when this was all Godric seemed about
to say. Godric generally didn’t offer much in conversation unless
they were alone, and even then it was usually at Bertie’s
instigation, not that Bertie was complaining. He could spend hours
prodding Godric to talk, to explain how he thought out steps before
taking action, to offer his thoughts on everything from Northern
food to the cut of Bertie’s hem, without growing tired of it. He
rather liked the victory of getting Godric to speak at all, and of
knowing that few others shared his confidences. But this time he
did not have to wait long before Godric continued.
    Godric hesitated once more, it was true, but
only for the smallest moment. “I spoke to Torr also.”
    “Torr? Oh your unhappy captain.” Bertie
realized with a small start that the man had never offered his name
and had been content for Bertie to address him as “Godric’s
man-at-arms”. “He was not pleased to be sent on that mission, was
he? Go find the king’s fool brother if he’s not already dead, when
he was clearly needed here.” Bertie went on when Godric
seemed startled and ready to interrupt him. “Oh, don’t lie to me
now, Godric, or be polite. I walked through this camp last night.
This isn’t close to the entire army. This is barely a full company.
What’s happening? Where’s my brother? Where’s everyone else? You
should not have worried about me.”
    He stopped there and swallowed because that
had not been an easy thing to say, though it had sounded quite
kingly, in a certain way, like something from a long cycle of
warrior poems.
    “I do not want to imagine the winter you
would have faced if I had not.” Godric swung his gaze up from the
cat. For all his talk of winter, his gaze was so very warm.
    “Neither do I, my love,” Bertie exhaled,
then flinched at his choice of words. “I… sorry. I know things must
be different in the South. I did not mean to offend you with my
ways.”
    North or South, Bertie was crazy, it was
fact. He wasn’t sure why he had to say whatever was on his
mind the moment he had the thought, but he always seemed to, to