Her Darkest Knight

by Amy Mullen

  Next, he went to the docks nearby. If she was on a ship, he had little time, if he had not already missed her. For a fair amount of coin, he had gotten a few of the less savory to talk. There were men about, rounding up those without ties, those no one would miss, to take down the Thames and out to sea. Where they were bound they did not know, but they would not be coming back.

  He waited for the portly man who had finally agreed to do business with him to step up onto the deck. Turstin’s next stop, should this search prove fruitless, was the next ship and then the next. Women were often taken first, before any man, and sold into a world of servitude. Attractive females commanded twice the price. Either Henry truly did not know, or he did little to stop it. While Turstin admired the king, he was not sure which was true.

  The man who owned the ship had rotten teeth and little hair but was younger than Turstin. He wore a smirk on his face of smug self-assurance, even though he appeared too weak to lift the lightest of swords. His words were direct.

  "I do not often allow men I do not know aboard the ship, but the heavy bag o’ coin ye have produced shows yer seriousness in this matter. Should ye be an agent of the king, be aware ye will not make it out of this district alive."

  "I am in no way here on the king’s business. I have business of my own to consider. Let’s get to it."

  "This way," the man said after joining Turstin on the deck.

  "Aye," Turstin muttered as he followed him. He did not want to look around too much, as if he were looking for someone in particular. It would arouse the suspicions of those who were exceptionally careful about who they allowed aboard. From the looks of those walking the decks, they were getting ready to depart.

  "I do not know why ye are so anxious to do business today," the ship owner said, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his dirty hand as he lumbered along.

  "I need a woman. ‘Tis all," Turstin said, thinking quickly. "Just one woman to keep my house clean and ease my urges. I do not care to take a wife any time soon. I will pay whatever you ask. Double what you might fetch over the seas for such a woman, if that is indeed your destination."

  "This way," the man said, his eyes widening when Turstin mentioned what he was willing to pay. He led Turstin past a stack of crates being moved to the hold. With a jerk of his thumb, two men moved forward and did his bidding. They grunted as they pushed some crates aside, revealing a wide trap door. Both men reached to pull it up, the metal of the hinges creaking in protest as the door exposed a set of wooden steps going down below the deck.

  The ship owner descended, moving remarkably quickly, into the semi-darkness. A terrible smell was the first thing Turstin noticed as he followed. It was a rich odor that permeated everything. It wafted up and around him, filling his lungs.

  Taking in a deep breath of fresh air, Turstin descended into the dark, dank hold. The man took a torch from the wall and handed it to Turstin. "All I have is here. Ye go and find what ye seek. There be a few fine ones here. Take yer pick, but I must beg ye hurry."

  Turstin stepped down, the light from the torch leading the way. He was well aware the trap door could close behind him. "My men await in the woods and throughout town. They are well-trained and are watching. Should I not leave this ship, I assure you, it will be torn apart."

  The man hesitated and then mumbled, "I heard ye."

  Turstin continued into the hold. In the light of the torch, there appeared a most miserable sight. Men and women of all ages were tied and bound. Some were awake, others slept. Before him appeared the dirty, the hopeless, and the lost. His heart lurched, thinking of the lost lives and those who may be missing them.

  "What did ye have in mind?" the man asked, wiping his brow again. "Are ye sure ye seek a woman? I got all types, I do. Ye can take more than one, if ye wish. Fat, thin, old, young, boy, girl, whatever ye have yer heart set upon, I got ‘em."

  "I will look for myself," Turstin said, trying to hide the disgust in his voice. He stepped slowly, his eyes scanning the forlorn before him.

  Turstin reminded himself he was to appear heartless, here to buy a human being. He vowed as he stared at the most wretched of society around him that he would clear this district from the earth, singlehandedly if he must. However, he must find Isabel first. Far too much had been taken from him, and he was not going to give up on finding her.

  Just when he thought he had hit yet another dead end, he saw her. Isabel was there, tied with her arms behind her and her legs beneath her at an odd angle. Her head hung as if she slept, and her hair was twisted but loose, hanging to the side and cascading down her right shoulder. She was cleaner than the rest, but the dried blood on her forehead indicated she had not gone without a fight. He winced. No woman should know violence.

  He stepped deliberately yet slowly in her direction, making the pretense of looking each person over carefully. Turstin stopped before Isabel and bent down, pretending to mull her over as the light of the torch brought her features into focus. Reaching out, he lifted her head with his fingers, gently pushing her chin up. It was definitely her.

  "I’ll take this one. She seems to be the best of the lot."

  "This one, milord? She be trouble, that one. We hadda get her twice. Her father said she be possessed by the devil himself. He wanted her out of England."

  Turstin glared up at the man and then stood. He towered over the slave trader by a head. For a moment, the man was smart enough to be a bit leery of Turstin standing before him. Though it was an obvious lie he told, Turstin thought better of calling him on it. It would give away his game, should he do so.

  "I care not. She will do."

  "Aye, milord. At the price ye offered before?"

  "Aye."

  "I want it doubled again," the man said, stepping back a pace.

  "We had an agreement!"

  "Aye, ye heard me. She be a fine one, best o’ the lot. She’d fetch a fine price where we be going."

  Not wanting to prolong this any longer or risk losing her for good, Turstin agreed. "Untie her now. I’ll carry her out myself."

  "Aye, right away," the ship owner said, holding his hand out expectantly for his coin.

  "When we are safely ashore and off your dreadful ship, you will get your payment. I can linger no longer."

  ****

  Once away from the ship, Isabel opened her eyes and gazed up at Turstin. The light from the evening sun was too much, and she closed them again. He stared down at the mess that was his wife-to-be. He managed a smile as she moaned, thankful she was still alive. Though her heart beat strong, she had not awakened when untied and carried from the ship.

  "Milord?" she whispered, her voice no more than a pathetic croak. "I beg of you. Return me to my home. Nicholas de Reymes will pay you whatever you wish for your trouble. I wish to go home. Blackstone. Home." Her last words were barely audible.

  Turstin studied her face as she mumbled, never breaking his stride. He hurried toward the inn on the next block where he would have someone help her clean up, and then they could be on their way back to Blackstone. They had to hurry out of the area, and he would not let her out of his sight again.

  She fell quiet. He would have to see to the gash on her head. There was a small bump along her hairline above her forehead, and the cut had bled. It was no wonder she could not stay awake. There were scratches on her face and arms, and her kirtle was all but destroyed.

  "Isabel," he said as they neared the building, "’tis Turstin. I will see you home safely. You have nothing to fear."

  She responded by moaning again, but a small smile appeared on her face. He carefully laid her down on a bench along the far wall near the roaring fire. Though it was hot outside and in, she shivered. The warmth from the flames would help, he hoped.

  "You found her, milord?"

  "Aye," Turstin said with a nod as he stood and spun to face the man behind him. It was Matthew, the only man he had taken with him. Matthew was proving to be more valuable than any knight, even though he li
mped when he walked. He could be trusted. The limp did not slow him down at all.

  Matthew gazed down at Isabel. "Aye, ‘tis our Isabel. Thanks be to God."

  "You did well, Matthew. Go to the owner and secure a room. We will not stay long, but I need to see her wounds cleaned up and obtain a fresh kirtle, if possible. As soon as she is clean and alert, we must be gone from here. We are in danger. Order food and drink. Ask if there is someone who may assist us. Tell them whatever story you wish, but if you flash enough of my coin, they will not question you long. Enough to pay, but not enough to be robbed. Every man and woman in this place would rather kill you than take less coin than they deserve. Everyone is a danger. Use caution and appear humble. You hear?"

  Matthew nodded and did what Turstin bid.

  "If Nicholas does not appreciate him enough, I shall take him on at Renoir," Turstin said aloud to no one but himself.

  "Milord?" Isabel spoke. Her voice was weak and raspy, but her eyes were now open. They were red-rimmed and bloodshot, squinting up at him. She did not sit up but instead stared at him from where she lay on the bench.

  "You are awake, milady. ‘Tis good news."

  "I feel most horrible. Is it truly you, Turstin, or are my dreams taunting me? How did you find me? I do not even know where I am."

  "Indeed it is me. Can you tell me what you remember?" he asked as he pulled the end of another bench forward so he could sit near her without drawing too much attention from the others within the inn. He removed his cloak and laid it over her, offering her some privacy from the prying eyes around them.

  "I am so thirsty, please, milord," she said. "Where are we?"

  "We are in a place we must leave behind as soon as possible. We are not safe here," Turstin said. "Matthew will return with food and drink for you soon. How do you feel? Do you have injuries, milady?"

  "I am sore and weak. My head hurts more than anything I have ever felt."

  "It appears you were hit on the head. It will ease soon."

  "I do not understand what happened. I was free. These men came and tried to take me, but I got away. I found a horse, and that is the last I remember before I awoke on the ship."

  "Shh…" Turstin said as Matthew approached. "We will discuss this further. For now, we should have a room for you and a lady to assist you in cleaning up. I will send Matthew to purchase a new kirtle for you."

  "I do not understand. What is this place?" Isabel asked, daring to lift her head to look around. The room was dark and eerie. Most of the patrons were quiet, but some conversation could be heard.

  "Matthew, take more coin. Address those outside the inn and ask to purchase a kirtle. It does not have to be new, just clean. Any woman outside should be willing to sell for high enough a price. Be quick."

  Turstin loathed hiding Isabel here, but as soon as he could, he would be out the door and they would be on their way. He would protect her life, and for a moment, the past did not matter. Much had been taken away, and there was naught he could do. This time was different. No matter the words that had passed between them, he would never let her go.

  Chapter Twenty

  "Dearie, ye must hold still," the girl said as she scrubbed Isabel’s back with a horsehair brush. Isabel stood in the middle of a tub, the water now cool, embarrassed by the attentions of this girl she had never met. The girl called herself Claire, but her voice was so deep Isabel swore she was a man.

  "I am sorry. I am not used to having strangers help me bathe," Isabel said, shuddering. She was now getting cold and a little annoyed. The ache in her head had eased but was still there. "Can we please be done? My head hurts, and he awaits." They were in a small room on the second floor of the inn. The entire building appeared as if it had not been cleaned in years, but Isabel was thankful to be anywhere but on that boat.

  "Ye got a lusty bridegroom out there. Why do ye think I be taking me time? Ye want to look special for ‘im, aye?"

  Isabel groaned. Turstin had instructed her to claim they were newlyweds and had not given their names. They were in a dangerous place east of London, he had said, and this would protect her from some but not all. Trust him, he had said. She had little choice.

  Claire finally ceased her scrubbing and helped Isabel step from the tub. She then wrapped a linen around Isabel. "I shall be fine now. Thank you for your service, Claire. Please leave me be now."

  "Are ye sure? I can help ye dress. You have raw scrapes on your wrists and ankles, and scratches everywhere. Will be simpler to allow me to assist you."

  "We were ambushed," Isabel said. "The marks are healing now. I will be fine."

  "Are ye sure?"

  "Nay, not necessary. I wish to be alone," Isabel said. "Please inform Tur… my husband I shall be presentable soon."

  "He already knows," Claire laughed. "He be guarding the door."

  Isabel nodded. Claire stood to leave but said to Isabel before she left, "If he does not do it for ye, there always be work for one as lovely as ye here by the docks. They’d be paying top coin for ye, I tell ye. Just stay away from the men on the boats with the strange voices. They be gone soon."

  Isabel nodded. This was unlike anything she had ever been exposed to, and she counted her blessings again. She was starting to believe Turstin finding her before the ship left was a miracle.

  After Claire slipped out and secured the door, Isabel slid the lock closed on the inside. She let her breath out slowly and sank to the pallet on the floor. After sitting for a moment, she thought better of it and stood. Dressing quickly in the kirtle Matthew had found, she hurried to be ready. She used care when bending, as her headache became worse each time she moved her head too quickly.

  "Done yet?" Turstin said through the door as he tapped impatiently. "’Tis time to go. We must be gone before the sun sets."

  "I shall be ready soon," Isabel said in reply as she smoothed the skirt of her kirtle with her hands. It fit well but was too long, so she would have to be careful walking. She donned her boots, which she had thankfully not lost in her nightmare, and then pulled on the cloak Turstin had given her. Both items were dark and drab, yet she understood the wisdom in this. The clothes would help her blend in. She tied her still-wet, brown tresses back and pulled up the hood on the cloak.

  She was ready and eager to return to Blackstone. Sliding the lock back, she tapped to alert Turstin she was dressed and ready. The door swung open, but he would not allow her to leave. Instead, Turstin and Matthew both came into the room, pushing her back rudely as they closed the door behind them.

  "Too late," Turstin said, taking a few large strides to look out the window on the other side of the room. "They are here."

  "Who?" Isabel asked, confused.

  "I knew we had little time, but often they allow you to leave town before they come, not wanting to be seen."

  "Please?" Isabel‘s voice squeaked. She was terrified all over again.

  "’Tis simple," Turstin said, closing the shutters. "They never had any intention of letting you go. They have too much coin invested in the slave trade, and you are quite beautiful."

  "Then why did they let you take me? I do not understand."

  "They wanted what they could get from him. They would then simply take you back and sell you yet again," Matthew explained, as Turstin shoved the tub against the door, splashing cold water all over the floor as he went.

  "You already knew this?"

  "Aye, I knew. I thought we could get out into the woods before they came, but it appears they did not wait for dark. Matthew was outside the inn, watching. He saw them coming. They are searching, but I am not so sure they know you are here. They are guessing."

  "Then what can we do?"

  "We are going to have to leave the hard way, and you are going to have to trust me," Turstin said. "The woods are not far. We will be safe when we reach them, if we ride hard and leave this place behind quickly…"

  "How did you even know where I was? How did you find me?" Isabel said as she pushed the cloak hood b
ack down on her shoulders. She felt light-headed. It was not from fear but from being so close to him again.

  She had not forgotten what he had said and how he had shattered her heart, but that was for another time. Right now, they had to get out of this mess together. Those thoughts had to be set aside, and the pain would have to be revisited later.

  "Isabel, milady, would you wait until we are free from this? I shall answer your questions then."

  "I see," she said. Her heart began to hammer. She willed it to slow. Panic would do nothing but delay them.

  "Matthew," Turstin said. "They do not know your face. You will go downstairs and outside. Get to the stable and get our horses. Do not hurry, or you will raise suspicion. The sun is setting. That is unfortunate, but we will find a way to use it to our advantage. Come back to the inn and stand at the end of the alley and watch this window. Isabel and I will come down, and we shall ride out as quickly as we can. If they appear in the alley, walk out to the front and wait. Remember, appear unconcerned, or they might assume you are with me."

  "But they will see us!" Isabel said in protest.

  "Not if we go out the window," Turstin said. "At least, I hope not."

  "The window," Isabel repeated. Her eyes grew large as she peered down.

  "Aye, the window."

  "’Tis too far. I shall break my leg."

  "You are going to have to trust me, Isabel. Do you wish to return home or not?"

  "Of course I do. I long to see Gemma and Nicholas, and of course…"

  "Hush your prattle. Aye, hush!" Turstin said.

  Isabel closed her mouth, her lips tight. He was beginning to snap at her, and she did not know why. All she wanted was to feel safe again.

  Turstin ignored her. He grabbed anything he could find made of cloth and began to tie them together. "We’ll climb down. Take off your cloak. I need it."