The Rebel Heiress and the Knight

by Melissa Oliver

  They were a perfect foil for the much larger cortege ahead, with an even larger strongbox as bait to lure the outlaws from hiding. If everything went to plan then they would not only hand the silver levy to King John but also the outlaws, along with their leader, Le Renard. And once the outlaws were caught Hugh would do everything he could to make Tallany and its people prosperous again.

  He listened, trying to distinguish any unusual noises as he looked around in all directions. He knew instinctively that something was wrong. He wasn’t quite sure what, but the feeling was palpable. It was too still, far too quiet...

  A sudden sense of foreboding pierced through him and he gripped the dagger at his waist tighter. It was a feeling that he always had before a battle, and here in this damnable forest he couldn’t see the enemy but he could feel them in his bones. They were close—very close.

  Hugh bypassed Balvoire and rode to his sergeant at the front of the retinue.

  ‘We need to pick up the pace. I don’t want us to be far behind Sir William’s cortege or else we risk exposure,’ Hugh ordered.

  Balvoire rode up beside him. ‘No need, Lord Hugh. Surely Sir William will send word if they encounter the outlaws?’

  ‘I have no time for disputes.’ Hugh nodded to his sergeant. ‘Carry on—and make sure you’re vigilant.’

  ‘Yes, my lord,’ the sergeant said, and he began to dictate a quicker pace, pulling the whole group into a quicker trot.

  ‘What exactly do you believe will happen?’ Balvoire barked, no doubt furious at being dismissed.

  ‘As I said earlier, we don’t have time. Now, get your men to the rear, Balvoire. You are leaving it open to attack,’ Hugh said through gritted teeth.

  But just then, in the periphery of his vision, he glimpsed what he believed was a flash of movement above in the trees ahead.

  ‘What the...?’ he muttered under his breath.

  Again he saw a shift of movement above him, in the branches of the towering trees. Outlined shapes darted and weaved through, leaves rustled, but he still couldn’t really see anything. It could be birds or small animals. But something in the movements made him reconsider.

  ‘Sergeant, wait!’ Hugh thundered—but it was too late.

  The men out in front were thrown off their mounts as a rope tied across the path between two trees made their horses buckle and fall with a deafening thud.

  ‘Hell’s teeth, stop! Retreat! It’s a trap!’ Hugh bellowed as mayhem ensued.

  He swivelled his neck and watched as chaos erupted at the rear of the entourage as well. Out of nowhere, ropes dropped and were pulled and tied together from one tree to another. Hugh knew he had to protect the strongbox, but it was no use. He couldn’t see his way out of the clearing. They were barricaded in.

  At that very moment the hiss of an arrow flew past him and a succession of men in masks, with hoods drawn over their heads, swung between the trees and landed in every direction, surrounding them.

  They were ambushed!

  Hugh was yanked from his saddle from behind, landing on his back. But he got up on his feet as quickly as possible, despite the pain. Drawing his sword, Hugh watched in disgust as one after the other of his entourage threw down his armour in surrender. He would not. He had to protect the strongbox.

  Just as he was about to engage in combat with a rather large outlaw a rapid array of arrows swished through the air, hitting the ground so close to him that he dropped his sword. He quickly retrieved it and flicked his head back to see who had executed the attack with such precision. He knew it could only be one person.

  Hugh saw a slight, lean figure standing on a branch. The man put his bow behind him, grabbed a rope and swung from one tree to another before landing on the cart, hovering just in front of Hugh. He stood with his legs apart, dressed in green braies and tunic, his face hidden under a mask and a hood edged in fur covering his head and shoulders...

  It was Le Renard—and he was no more than a boy!

  ‘So, you are the notorious Fox?’ Hugh drawled sardonically, daring to take a step closer to the cart, clutching the hilt of his sword.

  The outlaw waved his hand and bowed in an exaggerated manner. ‘At your service, Lord Hugh. But please do not take another step forward.’

  ‘Oh? And why not?’ Hugh asked, edging closer.

  ‘Take a look. Your men have all but capitulated; you’re completely surrounded, my lord.’

  There was a roar of laughter as Hugh looked around to see that his whole entourage had indeed surrendered. His most experienced men, save a few, had been sent ahead with Will and the decoy strongbox that had been meant to snare the outlaw group, but it had backfired...badly.

  The plan had been such a good one—Hugh couldn’t understand how they had walked into this trap. These outlaws were organised, trained in combat, and they had known they were coming. He felt a cold fury running through his veins but knew he had to temper his emotions.

  Instead, he shrugged nonchalantly and smiled.

  Le Renard looked him up and down. ‘Come, now—yield, Lord Hugh. We’ve only come for this.’ The outlaw dragged off the sackcloth covering the strongbox and kicked the side of it as he spoke.

  Hugh’s smile evaporated immediately. ‘I never yield.’ He scowled. ‘Especially to a boy.’

  Le Renard jumped down from the cart and stood in front of Hugh. ‘Yield, my lord. You have no other choice.’

  ‘Never! You will have to kill me first. And whilst there is breath in my body, I will do my duty by my King and protect that strongbox.’ He stood tall and proud, emanating as much power and courage as he could muster, and for a moment the younger man stared at him.

  ‘That,’ Le Renard muttered, ‘is not necessary.’

  Hugh knew that, but knew desperately he had to think of something. ‘Fight me, outlaw. Man to man. And the victor will keep the coin.’

  ‘Now why would I do something as ridiculous as that? I already have your men and your coin, my lord.’ He glanced down at his fingers. ‘Not bad for a boy, don’t you think?’

  There was something about the way The Fox spoke that reminded Hugh of something, or someone, but his mind must be playing tricks on him.

  He held his sword pointed at the outlaw and gave his head a mental shake. ‘So, you’re a coward? Is that it? You won’t fight with me?’

  Le Renard snorted. ‘Despite what you think,’ he said, clicking his fingers at another outlaw, ‘we’re not savages bent on violence and destruction.’

  The big, burly outlaw Le Renard had beckoned dragged over Balvoire, bound and gagged, and threw him on the ground in front of his leader.

  ‘Not like him,’ said The Fox.

  Hugh’s knuckles were white, his sword arm clenched taut, and yet this outlaw was not interested in taking up arms against him. He was still talking, explaining himself.

  ‘So you see, my lord, we’re taking back what is ours.’

  ‘Who are you?’ Hugh asked.

  ‘No one of consequence, my lord.’

  Was it Hugh’s imagination or had the timbre in the outlaw’s voice risen up a notch?

  ‘You must be deluded. How can the coin possibly be yours?’

  ‘This silver has been stolen from us for the coffers of King John and his cronies to pay for pointless wars,’ Le Renard growled, and his men roared their approval.

  ‘That’s treason!’ Hugh spat out, and found half a dozen blades suddenly pointing at him. He stood his ground, even though his heart was hammering relentlessly.

  ‘No, lower your blades,’ the leader of the outlaws chided. ‘Leave him to me!’

  Le Renard glared at his men, but they still held their swords pointed at Hugh and Hugh, in turn, held his firmly pointed at The Fox.

  ‘That, Lord Hugh, is a matter of opinion.’ He shrugged as he moved and laid his hand over each of the swords of h
is fellow outlaws, who lowered them one by one.

  ‘We need to avenge our fallen friends, Fox!’ one of the outlaws cried.

  ‘Good, honourable men,’ the big, burly outlaw said.

  ‘Honour? You talk of honour? There exists none amongst thieves,’ Hugh retorted, addressing them all.

  ‘Who you be calling thieves? Those men had more honour in their little finger than you. Than this cur!’ the big burly outlaw sneered, kicking Balvoire, who was face-down on the ground.

  The rest of the outlaws roared and jeered. ‘Avenge our friends!’ the outlaw cried, and others shouted out similar chants.

  Le Renard stepped back onto the cart and slammed his foot hard against the side. ‘No!’ he bellowed. ‘We have never taken a life and we’re not going to start now—otherwise we’d be no better than them.’ He flicked his chin at Balvoire and looked at each of his men, who seemed to quieten with his words. ‘We have come for one thing and one thing only,’ Le Renard said, kicking the strongbox. ‘Now, Lord Hugh, I will ask you again to lay down your sword and submit. This is a battle you’ve lost.’

  ‘Never!’ Hugh cried, and he lunged forward and leapt onto the cart, catching Le Renard by surprise.

  Hugh brought his blade up, swiping with his sword and meeting Le Renard’s with a defensive clang. The outlaw stepped back and jumped off the cart as he defended himself against Hugh’s onslaught.

  They circled each other as though in a dance—a deadly dance—sparring as their blades criss-crossed each other in a clash. The rest of Hugh’s men and Le Renard’s men watched the fight unfold, the outlaws still holding the captive men in surrender.

  Hugh, being the much taller, stronger and more experienced man, thrust forward in attack again and again as Le Renard lurched backwards in defence.

  Hugh had to admit that Le Renard knew the art of swordplay, even though his knowledge was rudimentary and no more than a young squire’s. The outlaw had been trained—but by whom and in whose mesnie? He was good—particularly his agility and footwork, which were as quick as his namesake. Mayhap he was as cunning too. Certainly his reputation suggested that was the case.

  ‘Not bad... It seems you have a few hidden talents, Le Renard.’

  But Hugh could see that the outlaw had broken out in sweat above the rim of his mask.

  ‘And that surprises you, my lord?’

  ‘You remind me of a few young squires I’ve trained in the past, nothing more,’ he said, ‘And, whilst this has been an entertaining diversion, I think it’s high time I brought matters to a close—don’t you?’

  Before waiting for an answer Hugh lurched forward in a quick succession of moves before turning, wrong-footing his opponent and disarming him.

  Le Renard looked at his sword on the ground in disbelief before snapping his head back to see Hugh’s sword pointing at him, the blade just a flicker away from his face.

  Good—now I have you, Le Renard.

  ‘Very good, my lord,’ the outlaw said.

  ‘Indeed—now, tell your men to relinquish the strongbox, let go of my men and who knows...? Mayhap I will spare you.’

  ‘And do you think I believe you?’ Le Renard laughed softly as he took a few steps back.

  ‘My word is my honour.’

  ‘Mayhap, my lord...’ He stepped to one side and then jumped back onto the cart. ‘And then again, mayhap not.’

  It was Hugh’s turn to be surprised and wrong-footed as the outlaw turned away, legs apart and hands on hips. Incredulous, Hugh lunged forth again, but this time the outlaw anticipated him and leapt off the cart, his movements quick and determined.

  ‘Come back and finish this! Come back and fight!’ Hugh bellowed.

  But Le Renard had climbed the tree he had descended earlier, with the aid of his burly accomplice, who was laughing heartily.

  ‘Whilst this has been a...what did you call it? Oh, yes...“an entertaining diversion”, I think now I should bring “matters to a close”, don’t you?’ Le Renard mocked as he stood on the branch.

  ‘Get down at once and fight with me! Show me your mettle! Or are you a coward?’ Hugh barked.

  ‘Not I, my lord!’ He laughed. ‘As I said, the time for these games is over. Yield and submit.’

  ‘Never!’

  ‘Very well, have it your way... Now, Anselm!’

  The big man swung his axe to the ground, cutting through a rope hidden under leaves, which in turn released a heavy leather and rope net from above. This fell over Hugh, making him cower to the ground. And then Le Renard took arrow after arrow from his quiver, nocking each one with precision and then shooting, pinning the edge of the net, imprisoning Hugh beneath.

  Le Renard tapped his head in mock salute. ‘My lord, it has been a pleasure. You’re as valiant as they say you are.’

  ‘I never bargained for trickery, Fox.’

  Le Renard ignored him and addressed another of his accomplices. ‘Tie the rest of them together—except Balvoire. That one you strip and clothe in the infested hopsack.’ He swung round. ‘And then we best be gone, before their dissembling cortege suspects something.’

  ‘Wait!’ Hugh demanded from underneath his prison. ‘Before you go, I want to know why you didn’t kill me? You could have speared me with your arrows.’

  Le Renard crossed his arms and contemplated his answer. ‘I told you—we’re not murderers. We do not choose to do what we do and we do not do it lightly, my lord.’ He raised himself to address all the captured men. ‘We have spared all of you—unlike our fallen friends, who were butchered like animals. Remember that!’

  ‘Fox, we’d better go,’ the burly outlaw said.

  The outlaw smiled. ‘Until we meet again, Lord Hugh of Tallany.’

  And just like a puff of smoke they disappeared as quickly as they’d appeared out of nowhere, taking with them the strongbox filled with the King’s silver.

  ‘And when we do you’ll not get away from me so easily, so help me God...’ Hugh made the oath to himself bitterly as he closed his eyes in humiliation.

  Chapter Nine

  Eleanor hesitated before stepping around the stretched linen screen in their chamber to see Hugh sitting in a wooden bathtub. He was covered in warm water infused with soap and cleansing herbs, his eyes impassive, his expression hard. And, despite the warmth of the fire that crackled in the hearth, there was a resounding chill in the air.

  She exhaled slowly and swallowed down her guilt, knowing full well the reason for his bleak mood.

  It had been almost dusk before Hugh and the decoy convoy led by Will had arrived back to the castle keep. Hugh had retired to their solar in a thunderous mood, refusing to see anyone.

  And Eleanor didn’t blame him. She felt his pain and wished she could have spared his humiliation, wished it could have been avoided, but there had been no other way. What she and her outlaws had done was just. They had taken back what was rightfully theirs, for Tallany and its people.

  But, dear God, Hugh...

  Her husband had been prepared to protect the King’s coin at any cost to himself. He truly had honour coursing through his veins, and it showed the extent of his unreserved fealty to his Sovereign. Eleanor understood that for Hugh, as it had been for her own father, to break a solemn oath that had been sworn before God was to breach a sacred vow. Not that this particular King deserved it...

  Hugh would have fought to the death if he’d had to. It had been one of the bravest yet most terrifying things she’d ever seen, and Eleanor had had to deploy all her skills to make sure the situation hadn’t got out of hand.

  If anything had happened to him it would have devastated her and she would never have forgiven herself. Hugh was a good, honourable man...

  But it was more than that—he was more than that.

  How had she come to care for Hugh in such a short space of time?

 
He snapped his gaze to meet hers and offered the ghost of a smile briefly before it faded into a slim, compressed line. She walked over to the hearth, picked up the bucket and topped up his bath with more warm water, wanting to be of some use. She tilted her head, trying to catch his eye, but he stared blankly ahead.

  ‘It was not your fault, Hugh,’ she murmured after some time. ‘You must believe that.’

  ‘I thank you for your concern, Eleanor, but I cannot do that,’ he said, looking straight ahead at nothing, clearly lost in his own misery.

  She tried again. ‘There was nothing you could have done. The outlaws knew of your plans, as you said yourself.’

  She fell to her knees beside the tub as he turned to face her.

  ‘Yes, but how? How did they know we had the strongbox with the coin? How did they ambush us so easily? They even knew about the decoy cortege, ahead with Will.’ Hugh shook his head slowly. ‘I have failed in this mission. I have never experienced failure before and it doesn’t sit well with me.’

  ‘Surely the King can’t blame you? Why, you’ve said yourself that the outlaws had targeted him many times before you had even arrived in Tallany.’

  ‘That may be true, but this happened under my watch, Eleanor. It was my responsibility and I failed.’ He exhaled. ‘One thing is for sure: we have a traitor in our midst. Someone knew of our plan and passed it on to Le Renard and his outlaws.’

  ‘That can’t be,’ she muttered, trying to mask her anxiety.

  ‘There is no other explanation as to how the outlaws are continually one step ahead of me.’ He shut his eyes tightly, his brows meeting in the middle.

  Eleanor bit the inside of her cheek. The possibility of Hugh discovering the truth about her—that she was the traitor he sought—was real. He was shrewd, intelligent and astute. She had to make sure he never did. It would be an unmitigated disaster. Besides, she couldn’t bear to lose his esteem and his respect for her. And, although she knew what she had done had been for right and good, at this moment she didn’t feel good about it.