by Anne Herries
‘Once he realises that you do not intend to return to the castle he is sure to scour the countryside for us,’ Bertrand said. ‘Yet if his men ignore a yeoman and his wife and sister they may pass by without noticing us.’
‘I shall be careful to cover my head and face if we are questioned.’ Elaine looked at him gravely. ‘You know that you both risk much by accompanying me. If the earl captures us, you may suffer for helping me to escape.’
‘I would never desert you,’ Marion declared instantly. ‘We love you, my lady.’
‘Yes, I know it and I thank you. I pray that we shall reach my dower lands safely. Once there we can at least try to defend ourselves.’
‘At least you were not in the castle when he took it,’ Bertrand said. ‘We have the advantage for he will not know where to look. I know you must both be tired, but we ought to leave soon. If we ride through the night, we may get ahead of them.’
‘Will the earl not send men to your dower lands?’ Marion asked.
‘We must try to get there first,’ Bertrand said grimly. ‘Yet we should not go directly south, as he would expect. We shall ride to the east and then double back and that way hope to avoid his patrols. If we are fortunate, he will not send men out until the morning and by then we shall be well ahead of them.’
‘But our horses have carried us all day…’
‘I have brought fresh ones,’ Bertrand said. ‘We should turn your palfrey loose, my lady. If it returns to the castle seeking its stable, the earl’s men may waste time searching for you.’
‘They might think I was thrown.’ Elaine smiled. ‘You have done well, Bertrand. I think we should ride now and continue through the night. We may rest for a little time when we have put some leagues between the castle and us.’
‘You are weary, my friend,’ the dark-skinned servant watched as his master dismounted. ‘Allow me to see to the horses this night. You were sick for so long and you have not yet recovered your strength.’
‘I should have died had it not been for you,’ the knight replied and smiled. In the moonlight his face might have looked handsome to a casual observer, for the deep red welt that marred half of it was hardly noticeable because of his hood of mail. The scar ran from the corner of his left eye to his chin and was still painful to the touch even after many months of healing herbs and lotions applied by the faithful Janvier. ‘Had you and your family not taken me in that day…’
Janvier smiled, his teeth gleaming white against the dusk of his skin. ‘You forget that you saved mine and my whole family when the Christian knights rampaged after Saladin’s men wreaked vengeance on them for the murder of the Moslem prisoners.’
‘Do not remind me of our shame,’ the knight replied wearily. ‘I grow better every day, Janvier, but I will admit that I am tired this night. If we rest for a few hours in the morning, I shall feel much better.’
‘You should go home to your family, my lord.’
‘I have duties to perform before I may rest,’ Zander replied. ‘Tom’s body lies in a place of peace, but his family knows naught of what happened to him. First I must speak with his family, tell them he died bravely and was buried with honour—and then I must seek out the lady of whom I told you.’
‘You will ask her to wed you?’
‘No, not yet, for I must also seek revenge for my father, but if she has not married I shall pledge myself to her, as her protector and her servant—if she wishes it.’
Zander touched the red welt on his cheek. The pain was less now than it had been when it was first inflicted. He’d lain for weeks in a fever and afterwards he’d been too ill to remember who or where he was. It was Janvier who had carried him back to his home and helped to care for him as he raved and cried out in his agony, Janvier who had insisted on accompanying him to England, when he recovered enough to travel.
‘Do you think any woman would wish to marry me now?’ he asked, a touch of bitterness in his voice. ‘Even if she remains unwed, I cannot ask such a sacrifice of her.’
‘If she loves you, it will be no sacrifice. You should at least ask her, my lord. If she has waited all these years, it is your duty to offer her the chance to be your wife.’
‘Perhaps…’ A sigh was on his lips. ‘I dare say she forgot me long ago. She was beautiful, Janvier. Why should she wait for me?’ He pushed the grief from his mind. ‘We must rest now, my friend, for we have a long way to travel yet.’
‘You push yourself too hard.’
‘No, I am better now, merely unused to riding for long periods. If I do not make an effort, I shall never recover my strength. A man who cannot defend himself has no place in this world of ours, Janvier. I went to the wars because I thought our cause was just—and I hoped to win honours and wealth. I won both—but what profit a man if he gain the whole world, but lose his faith and his belief in his fellow man?’
‘You are the most honourable knight I know,’ Janvier said and grinned.
‘And you the best friend a man ever had. I do not know what lies ahead—but I shall make a life for us both here somewhere in this land or another if I prove unwelcome here.’
‘Inshallah,’ Janvier genuflected. ‘What Allah wills shall be. Whether it be your Christian god or mine, we are in His hands.’
‘Yes, it is so, though sometimes I wonder if God is but a comforting myth we humans invented for our own purposes.’
‘You are weary, my lord. Rest and eat. As your strength returns so will your faith.’
‘If I knew how to pray, I would pray you were right.’
Zander inclined his head and sat down on the blanket his servant had placed for him beneath a sheltering oak. The weather was mild enough, but after the heat of foreign lands he was shivering. He hugged his cloak about him and hoped that it was not a return of the fever that had plagued him for so many months.
He must avenge his father’s death. The knight who had had him killed for daring to remonstrate at the way he had caught and beaten a runaway servant, raping the man’s wife and daughter, was a beast who deserved only death. Zander would seek revenge for his father—and for the others the Earl of Newark had brutalised and murdered.
Yet all he truly longed for with his body and his heart was to seek out Elaine and offer her his service. Once he’d hoped for so much more, but now his hopes were ruined—what woman could love a man such as he?
Chapter Three
Hidden by the thickness of the trees and the undergrowth in which they had taken refuge at the sound of horns and approaching horses, Elaine held Marion’s hand. Bertrand had taken the horses on a little, fearing that they might snicker and betray the presence of the two women.
The sound of horses, jingling harness and voices grew louder. The Earl of Newark’s men had gathered in the clearing and were looking for signs.
‘Three horses went this way, my lord,’ one of them cried. ‘See where the undergrowth is flattened. ‘They must have gone this way.’
‘We cannot be far behind now,’ Stronmar said. ‘If we ride hard, we shall find them within the hour. We must find her, for the earl is anxious she should become his bride.’
Marion’s hand was trembling. Elaine held it fast, putting a finger to her lips as they heard the sound of the horses riding away.
‘That man,’ Elaine whispered. ‘I know him. It is rumoured that he is Newark’s son, born of a peasant woman—and he is even more evil than his father.’
‘If they catch Bertrand, they will kill him…’ Marion looked at her fearfully.
‘You must not doubt him. He has kept us safe for two days now.’ Elaine’s heart was racing but she raised her head proudly. ‘Come, we must do as Bertrand told us and make our way across the river. We shall meet back at the mill he spoke of earlier and then it is but another day or so to my dower lands.’
‘Supposing the earl has sent men to your home?’
‘We must meet that possibility when we come to it,’ Elaine said. ‘It seems that they wasted some time in looking for m
e when my palfrey returned. Bertrand has taken them on a detour and he will return with just two horses, sending the other careering off by itself. Hopefully, the earl’s men will follow it for long enough to get us safe to Sweetbriars.’
‘Even if we reach your home the earl may attack.’
‘Yes, I know.’ Elaine’s face was pale but determined. ‘I can only pray—’ She broke off as they heard the sound of voices. She tensed, listening hard. Newark’s men or someone else?
‘I think there are only a few.’ Marion parted the bushes carefully and looked. ‘Two men ride this way, my lady—a knight, I think, and a servant. The servant’s skin is dark.’
‘Let me see…’ Elaine peered through the bushes and then drew back. ‘The knight’s head and much of his face is covered by his chainmail, but the servant wears strange clothes—the clothes of a Saracen, I think.’
‘Then we must try to avoid them,’ Marion said. ‘They may be some of the Earl’s men.’
Elaine was about to agree, when she saw the servant look at his master anxiously and the knight suddenly slipped unconscious from the saddle.
‘The knight is ill,’ Elaine cried and, before her companion could stop her, she had left the safety of the trees and was running towards them. The servant had dismounted and was securing the horses to a branch, but Elaine was on her knees and bending over the knight in concern. ‘Sir Knight, I think you are ill,’ she said and touched his gloved hand. His eyes were closed, but he moaned faintly and opened them and she felt an odd tingle down her spine. His eyes seemed familiar, but his skin was almost as dark as his servant’s and she could not have seen him before.
‘My master has been very ill,’ the servant said and bent over him, lifting him in his arms as he came to his senses. ‘I am able to care for him. Do not disturb yourself, lady.’
‘I would help you if I can,’ Elaine said. ‘I have some skill with herbs and could make you a tisane to restore his strength.’
‘Give me the herbs and leave us,’ the servant said. ‘My master would not wish to trouble you.’
‘Nay, Janvier,’ the knight said weakly. ‘Do not treat a lady so scurvily.’ His eyes narrowed as he rose to his feet with Janvier’s help. ‘What do you here, mistress? Are you alone?’
‘My brother and his wife are nearby,’ Elaine replied, relieved as she saw Bertrand leading the horses towards them. He had made his detour and was on his way to meet them at the appointed place.
The knight nodded, looking at her oddly. ‘These are dangerous times to travel, mistress. What is your name and where your destination?’
Elaine hesitated. Should she tell him her story? He was ill and something in his eyes made her feel that she could trust him—but in her precarious situation she must be cautious.’
‘We travel to the lands of our lady,’ she replied. ‘My lady is in some danger and we are vowed to help her if we can.’
‘Will you tell me her name?’ the knight asked and now he was standing alone without the help of his servant. ‘It might be that we could travel together. It is safer to travel in numbers.’
‘My lady’s name…’ Elaine faltered. She wanted to tell him the truth, but Marion was shaking her head. It was perhaps too soon to trust the knight, for he might lead them straight to the earl’s men.
‘Her name is the Lady Philippa of Earlsmere,’ she said, the lie coming awkwardly to her tongue. ‘We travel south-west, sir…to the lands of the Marches, between Wales and England.’
‘Then bear us company for a little time until we must go our separate ways,’ the knight said. ‘I think perhaps you are in some trouble, mistress. Although my strength is not yet what it should be, my servant and I would protect you if we could.’
Elaine wavered. Ought she to take this knight at his word? Even as she hesitated, Marion gave her another warning look.
‘You are kind, sir, but we travel alone,’ she said. ‘I shall give your squire the herbs, which must be steeped in hot water for six hours, and half a cup of the mixture drunk twice a day. Their healing properties will help you to regain your strength, sir.’
‘I thank you,’ the knight said. He laid a hand on Janvier’s arm and the servant held back whatever he had meant to say.
Elaine gave the servant the herbs, then allowed Bertrand to help her mount one horse while Marion rode pillion behind him.
‘You took a risk,’ Marion said as they rode away. ‘It might have been a trap.’
‘The knight has been very ill,’ Elaine said. ‘I believe we should have been safe with him, but it was best to be cautious.’
She was conscious of an odd feeling of loss as they rode away. His eyes had said something to her, but she was not sure why they had made her heart race. Her instincts had told her she could trust him, but perhaps Marion was right. He was a stranger and as such could not be trusted once he knew her true identity.
‘The earl’s men have been misled,’ Bertrand said. ‘Yet it will not be long before they discover their mistake and come after us once more. We must put as much distance between us as possible.’
Zander sat silent, lost in his thoughts and unsure of his own feelings.
‘Something lays heavy on your mind,’ Janvier said. ‘You have seemed strange since the stranger came to your aid.’
‘It was she,’ Zander said. ‘She would not tell me her true name and yet, though she is older and a little changed, I know it was Elaine Howarth.’
‘The lady to whom you gave your promise?’
‘Yes. She did not know me, Janvier—or she did not wish to acknowledge it. Either way…’ He shook his head. ‘Yet she was dressed as a yeoman’s sister. Why was she in disguise—and where was she going?’
‘Perhaps she merely bears a likeness to your lady?’
‘I was not certain enough to reveal myself,’ Zander said. ‘I would prefer to be stronger before I offer her my service—and I must still avenge my father.’
‘You must regain your strength before you can think of revenge.’
‘Yes.’ Zander nodded. ‘I feel better now. I think it was merely tiredness that made me fall from my horse—but I should like you to make up the brew she told us of, Janvier. I will try her cure and see if it improves my health.’
‘Do you trust her?’ Janvier said. ‘If she concealed her identity, she lied to you.’
‘Yes, and I believe she is in some trouble. We shall follow where they lead, my friend, a little behind and see what transpires.’
‘I thought you wished to avenge your father?’
‘I do—but if the lady is going where I think she must be, I shall not be so very far from Newark’s lands. He has many manors and one of them lies only a few leagues distant from Sweetbriars.’
‘If you would risk your life for her, she must be special to you, my lord?’
‘I would give my life for hers willingly. I am determined to follow the route they took. We are but half an hour behind them; their horses are of the common sort and will not bear them as swiftly as our destriers. We should catch them before nightfall, but we shall watch them from a distance. I would know more of where they go and why before I reveal myself to her.’
‘We shall rest here for a while by the stream,’ Bertrand said and dismounted. He helped Marion down and then went to assist Elaine. ‘We are sheltered in this hollow and the horses can go no further until they rest for a while.’
Elaine looked about her. They had not seen the stream until they crested The rise. Perhaps the earl’s men would ride by if they came this way.
‘We have no choice,’ she said. ‘The horses are weary and so are we. We must eat and drink and so must our horses, for we should be lost without them.’
‘I will take them to the shallow edge to let them drink,’ Bertrand said. ‘Rest there beneath the tree, lady. Marion will bring you food—and there is water to drink from the well we passed.’
‘Marion must rest before she prepares our food,’ Elaine replied. ‘Later, we will prepare th
e meal together.’
‘That would not be fitting, my lady,’ Marion said.
‘It would appear odd if I did nothing while you two worked,’ Elaine said with a smile. ‘I am supposed to be your equal, Marion, not your lady. Come, sit and rest beside me, and then we shall prepare the food together.’
‘Do as your lady bids you,’ Bertrand said and led the horses to the edge of the stream, where they began to drink thirstily.
Elaine was deep in thought when Marion sat on the blanket beside her and rested her back against the tree. She had not been able to put from her mind the thought of the knight who had been so exhausted that he fell from His horse. She wondered if he had been to the Holy Land and whether he had been injured there. His servant was most likely a Moor or a Saracen, though how could it be that he had chosen to serve a Christian knight? Elaine was certain the knight must be one of those who had taken the Cross and followed King Richard on his crusade. Why else would his skin be so dark that he looked like a Saracen?
What was it about his eyes that seemed so familiar? She puzzled over it in her mind but, though the answer seemed close, it lay behind a curtain of mist. She could never have met him, for surely she would remember?
Zander looked down from the rise on the man and two women as they began to load their belongings on to the packhorse. Then the man came to help the woman who claimed to be his sister up to her horse before seeing to his wife. There was something reverential about the way he assisted his sister—but of course that was merely a disguise.
The lady was a lady, not a person of the yeoman class. He’d known when he heard her voice and as time passed grew more certain that she was Elaine Howarth—the woman he had pledged to return and marry. Her face had been a little brown for she’d always had a true English-rose complexion—but mayhap she had stained it with walnut juice. Some of the knights had used that ruse when trying to infiltrate the Saracen’s camp.
His thoughts led him to the same conclusion; she and her companions were hiding from someone—someone who meant them harm. Zander watched the two horses and their riders move away and then let his horse wander down to the water’s edge. They had ridden hard and could afford to let their quarry go on a little. It had been easy enough to discover their route, for they had stopped in a nearby village to take water from the well and buy bread and cheese.
