by Amy Mullen
"We shall stop soon," he shouted to the men who rode with him. "We will eat and ask around in the next village. Mayhap someone has seen her or heard of trouble in the area."
The men rode with him without complaint. Turstin urged his horse to go faster. If this day was any indication, life with Isabel would be anything but boring. He just had to bring her home.
After eating, he turned Nicholas’s men loose to continue north. He asked only Matthew to stay with him, as he preferred to travel light. His instincts told him to go another way, so he chose to go east and rode.
Chapter Seventeen
Isabel had to find food. She had only a few coins with her. They would have to last until she could find a way home. Mounting Rose, she rode slowly to the edge of the woods, searching for signs of people.
No one followed her; no odd sounds permeated the woods, and no sign of anyone else could be found. As she rode in silence, she fought back tears of despair. She was far from home, and she mentally kicked herself for going in the wrong direction. Had she gone south, she could have followed the Thames back to Blackstone and safety. Now, she was lost.
She spotted an inn and decided to stop. Inns were dangerous, but she had no choice, if she wanted to stave off the burning pain in her belly. The sun was no longer high in the sky, indicating the afternoon was half over. Any daylight was safer than night, so she moved to find food before she went any further. Her plan was to stay away from trouble overnight and then try to venture south the next morning. Those chasing her would have given up by then, she hoped.
There were but a few wattle-and-daub huts near the inn, but otherwise, the area was quiet. So far this location was the safest she had seen. This meant nothing, but she had little choice.
After securing her horse, she went into the inn. The room was dark, and she paused as her eyes adjusted. Inside it was crude but crowded with people. The patrons stared as she stood in the doorway. Isabel mustered her courage and then made her way to the worn, wooden bar. She tried to appear poised, even as she shook, and asked about something to eat.
Isabel tossed a few coins onto the rough surface of the bar. She was terrified, yet she stood firm with her chin up. A man came over, his gaze going up and down her form a few times before he counted the slim, metal disks.
"What do you need?" he asked, chomping on the small stick hanging from his mouth.
"Whatever I can get for those coins," she said. "I need food for the road. Bread or fruit, if you have any."
Scooping up the coins, the man left her without a word. He came back and tossed a small chunk of bread at her and set three apples on the bar. She stared at the meager fare and glanced back at the man.
"Is there a problem?"
"Nay," she shook her head and grabbed the offering with both hands. He was cheating her, but she did not want to draw any more attention to herself. "I would ask for a drink, if you would be so kind. Was there enough in the coin I gave you for an ale?"
He stared at her without blinking for a moment. She gulped.
"Give the lass a drink," a man nearest her said in an accent she did not recognize, tossing a coin onto the bar.
"My thanks," she said and then slugged down the liquid in the ale mug as quickly as she could. Without another word, she crossed herself and went back to find Rose.
She led the horse to drink again from another small stream just a short ride from the inn and allowed her to graze on grass growing nearby, while Isabel ate what she could. The rest she shoved into the small bag on her saddle. Isabel had to find shelter soon. Just one night, she told herself. It was too early for sleep, yet her exhaustion was quickly taking a toll on her.
Stifling a yawn, she studied the land around her. The woods were behind her, and through the trees she saw a shack. Had she ridden by, she never would have seen it. She tied Rose to a sapling and went to investigate. The front door hung from one hinge. It only covered half of the opening, which was a good indication that the small hut was abandoned.
Inside, the dirt floor was as hard as stone. The window shutters were nailed shut, and the roof was in one piece. The place would be suitable for the night, if she could put up with the odd, unnamed smell. It was large enough to bring in her horse, which would help her keep warm through the night. Rose could be tied to the far wall, and Isabel could sleep near the door. She could not light a fire for warmth, or she would attract the wrong type of attention.
Moving away, she gathered her horse and decided to call it an early night. Rose came willingly, but it took some coaxing to get her to go into the hut. Isabel struggled with the door and finally tied it shut with the leather string she had used to tie her hair. It was warm outside, but the night would cool. She would use her cloak as a bed, as it was all she had. In the morning light, she would head south, back to Blackstone, and back to safety.
Chapter Eighteen
After the second noise, Isabel knew she had made a grave mistake. Either they had followed her, or something else was amiss. After all her work to remain unseen, she had been found. Someone or something was outside her small shack, and it did not sound like something small. It was now dark outside, as dark as a night could be. Isabel could not see anything other than the faint bob of a torch. She watched through the space between the floor and the broken door as the glow moved closer.
"Shh…" a voice said. "You’ll scare the girl."
"I know, you dog, you shush!" a second voice said.
There was nothing she could do as the two men moved closer to the small hut. Rose backed up, hitting the back wall. Isabel slid her small dagger from the sheath tied around her calf as panic set in.
"Git her! She’s awake!" the deeper voice said as the door was ripped from the building.
It was too dark for Isabel to make out the faces, but the bodies now lunging for her reeked of ale and sweat. In the meager light thrown off by the torch they carried, she saw that one was tall and thin with a paunch around the middle, and the other was a bit shorter and appeared more powerful.
"Git moving!" the tall one shouted at her after he knocked her down to the ground. He ripped the cloak from beneath her as she struggled to move away from him. She swung her dagger, hoping to fend him off, but he grabbed her wrist and squeezed. The pain was so intense she let the knife go, and it fell to the floor, useless. She tried to fight with her bare hands, but the tall man had a firm hand on her ankle, and the other was going for her arms.
"Don’t fight it, girl. We don’t aim to hurt ya, but you will bring a pretty coin on the morrow," one of them said as she twisted to get away. He kicked the dagger aside as she fought.
"Gag her, you beef-witted mongrel! She be giving us away. She’s got some fine clothes on. We’ll have to change that, or they’ll never believe her a runaway. I knew she was a looker when she came into the inn. We’ll make a lot of coin off this one."
Now in a panic, Isabel flailed her arms to get away, but to no avail. The two men were too strong for her. She screamed as they dragged her. Her fingertips dragged across the ground as she tried to dig into the dirt in a desperate bid to resist. In her desperation, she screamed again and begged for them to free her. The men ignored her pleas and dragged her out into the dark night.
They then gagged her, leaving her hands and feet free, and threw her up onto the back of a horse. The air rushed from her lungs, and she struggled to draw more in.
"Look here at this horse! What a prime bit o’ animal. We can get a bit o’ coin for this as well." The tall one had run back to the shack while the shorter man held her steady on the horse. She fought like a mad woman but could not break free.
"Then take it! Let’s go ‘afore someone sees us!"
Rose bolted out of the shack, knocking half of the rotten wall away as she went, but had no intention of going with them. She reared and brought her hooves down. The man jumped out of the way as the horse bolted from the men and tore down the road.
"You lost it, you idiot!"
"Just be happy we
got the girl. Git on with it! She be a good sale, if you don’t mess it up!"
Isabel nearly retched as the larger man sat her up and got behind her on his horse. His body reeked. The horse took off like a shot, and she almost fell. He grabbed the back of her kirtle to keep her upright but did little else to ease her misery.
The horses galloped on. Twigs and branches snapped at them as they tore out of the woods and onto the dirt road. Isabel could see nothing and braced herself, ready to crash into a tree. They rode only a few paces before veering off onto a thin, dirt path leading in the other direction.
"Hold still, there!"
Isabel grunted and tried to throw herself from the horse. This was too much, and now she was beyond fear—she was trying to survive. At last she succeeded and landed in a berry bush heavy with thorns. The men reined their horses in and jumped down.
"Catch her, you toad!"
She twisted and tried to find the ground with her feet. Thorns dug into her skin, pulling as they pierced the skin of her face and wrists. "No, no, no!" she screamed into her gag as they neared her.
With one hand, the shorter man pulled her from the bush. With brutish force he tugged so hard she flew up into the air. He let her hit the earth, and she heard a thud and a rush of her breath as if it was happening to someone else. A deep throbbing began in her back, and a sharp pain shot down one of her legs. A rock was lodged against her spine, and something pulled on her hair.
He picked her up and unceremoniously looped a rope around her hands and then her ankles. "Girly, if ye know what be good for ye, hold still! I don’t have it in me to hit a girl, but me patience be wearing out. Ye’re gonna be sold on the morrow, so stop marking up yer skin. I won’t get as much for ye if ye’re all bruised and battered."
She sobbed silently as he threw her back over his horse. In a glance she saw the other look at her strangely. He gulped, his hands holding tightly to his reins with a pained expression on his face. She no longer cared. For the time being, she had no fight left in her. Her only victory was short-lived and had caused her immense amounts of pain.
Huffing and puffing, the men rode the rest of the way in silence. They stopped at a shack not unlike the one she had just left and tossed her in without a word. There was a small fire this time, but they did not untie her. The rope had rubbed her wrists raw, and she feared her ankles had not faired any better. Both quickly checked the knots, paused to stare at her, and then went out the heavy door. She was alone and defeated as they slammed the door shut and secured it from the outside.
"Be still, girly. Ye’ll be right after your sale. Mayhap ye go to a good owner, being so comely and all," one of them said. Which man it was she did not know, nor did it matter. Isabel had heard of the underground slave sales, but she never dreamed she was in danger. She would be taken overseas by boat and never heard from again.
Isabel rolled over and let the tears fall. In the matter of just one day, her life had gone from controlled and safe to a nightmare. She should have told Constance she would not ride to Blackstone until Nicholas came for her. None of it made any sense. Traveling in the dark, an ambush, and now she was in the hands of those who most knew existed but were never spoken of out loud. Now she was alone and about to become the unnamed, the forgotten, the unimportant.
Anger welled up as she wiped tears away with her forearm. Her hands had been bound in front of her, so she pushed herself up into a sitting position. She started to scream and didn’t care if they came back, even though through the gag the screaming was pathetic. No one could hear her, and she knew it. She screamed anyway.
Isabel screamed until her throat hurt and she could scream no more. Then everything changed. Her mind became lucid and clear. She had to do something. For the first time since she was a child, she resolved to be brave. No one could help her. Nicholas was not here and would never find her. None of the king’s men were around, and no one would care for her plight. It was time to overcome her fears and do something for herself. She had two choices: she could lie still and take what was coming, or she could fight.
Fight. She was beyond any terror she had ever known. Squeezing her eyes shut, she whispered a prayer and summoned her long buried courage. If her sister could prevail when taken against her will, so could she. Life would be different from here on out, and the first thing she had to do was get out of this shack. Studying the rope around her wrists, she decided she was not going to wait for those men to come get her. She twisted her arms, but the rope dug in deeper.
Struggling to stand, she sought help from whatever she could find. A nail protruding from the wall became her first target. Isabel hopped slowly so she would not fall and then leaned against the rough wall for support. Using her shoulders, she moved along the boards until she came to the nail. She maneuvered until the nail was touching the gag on her face. When she felt the cold metal upon her skin she slowly sank, the nail catching on the gag and pulling it up. Gently she moved her jaw, and to her amazement, the gag slipped up and over her eyes. Carefully she backed away from the nail, and pushed the gag from her head with her bound arms.
The filthy gag fluttered to the dirt and landed without a sound as Isabel raised her arms over her head in triumph. One thing had gone her way, and now she intended to keep the momentum going in her favor. The same nail might also prove handy to remove the ropes from her arms, so she carefully and quickly began to free herself.
An hour later, Isabel stumbled over the hem of her kirtle. A loud rip sounded as she teetered unbalanced for a moment before righting herself.
"No more!" she said under her breath, grasping a tree with her hand and scratching her palm on a jagged knot. The thunder of horses’ hooves in the distance gave her pause, and she ducked to hide again. At this rate, she’d never get anywhere to find shelter. She had been trying to find her way back to the inn and had hidden three times already. Who knew the dark, dusty road would be so busy for so long after sunset?
"Probably ‘tis not the type of person I would like to meet," she whispered aloud after the horse had passed, and she tentatively stepped from the woods once again. She was not sure she was going in the right direction, but this was the only road she had found.
Isabel knew what she had to do. She took her time but would have moved faster had the night not been so dark. The moon, still meager as it had been the night before, offered little illumination. When no trees blocked the moon, she could see but a few feet ahead and had no horse. Her chances of finding Rose were slim, but she held out some hope.
Coughing, she placed a dirty hand up to her face to squelch the noise. She was terrified of what the darkness held yet had never felt so brave. The road ahead was long and dark, but what lay behind scared her more. Whispers she had heard about the women who disappeared lingered in her mind—gone from England on ships, crossing to lands where the laws were ignored and the people were so different from what she knew. No one would find her there, ever. Tears sprang from her eyes as she thought of Gemma. The faces of Miles and her nieces appeared in her mind. How she loved them. Then Turstin came to mind. He was never far from her thoughts.
She walked uninterrupted for some time. Through the fog that had now settled across the lands in the late hour, she saw the dim outline of an inn, different from the one where she had gotten food. The lights from the windows danced in the dark as a vague outline of the structure emerged before her. Stepping off the packed dirt road once more, she trod carefully through the brush so she could slip up to it unseen.
Rose might be gone, but she was sure there were other horses. The thought of stealing appalled her, but at this point her life was on the line. She might not get away the next time she was spotted, and as if to remind herself of how dangerous it was for a woman alone, the raw skin on her wrists began to ache. Gingerly she pulled up her sleeves and rolled the fabric up and over her elbows. It was chilly, but the pain was worse.
As she neared the inn, she could hear hoarse voices and the shrill laugh of a woman coming fro
m an open window above her. The sounds were a reminder of what could happen to a woman alone, whether she was a willing participant or not, and what would most certainly happen to a young, female slave. Isabel shuddered involuntarily.
The dim light from the window revealed her poor state. Isabel’s clothes were torn; she was covered with dust, and her hair was a knotted disaster. Her cloak was gone, left near the shack where she had sought refuge, and her horse was far away by now.
Leaning back, she sagged against the inn as she paused to contain her emotions. She was exhausted, dirty, and her throat was so dry she could barely swallow. Along with the raw skin upon her wrists, her legs ached, and she longed for a bed. Sleep was out of the question. There was no time to stop now.
Heaving herself into a standing position again, she moved as quietly as possible toward the stables. Isabel peered into a small window, getting up on tiptoes to look over the sash. She could see little, but she heard one exceptionally loud snore. The sound meant that whoever was guarding the stables was in a deep, intoxicated sleep. With stealth, she made her way around to the door. Pressing her back up against the wall, she allowed herself a few deep breaths.
It was now or never. She blindly stepped into the stables and threw open the first gate she found. A short whinny told her a horse was there. Somewhere in the stables, the snoring abruptly stopped. No one came.
She put her hand out to the horse and felt the velvet nose touch her fingers. Isabel cooed as softly as she could, and the horse began to prance. The horse would go with her, but there was no saddle.
Frantically, she whipped her head around. A saddle sat upon the edge of the stall. The stable boy was lazy, apparently, but this all worked in her favor. She pulled the saddle down by the stirrup, and it nearly toppled her, but she caught it and fell into the hay with it. The horse moved about nervously, but still no one came. Isabel stood, this time whispering to the horse as she slid the saddle upon its back. The animal was antsy, as if ready to ride.
