"Someone watches over you."
"It would seem so, although I am awed by the loyalty of that unseen ally. I havenae been much worth saving for many a year."
Gisele felt a twinge of sympathy for him, then told herself not to be such a fool. He was a grown man. He had chosen his path. She did concede that he deserved some praise for finally seeing how deep he had sunk into the mire. And, although she might not agree with all he had done, she had no trouble in sympathizing with a broken heart.
"It might be that unseen ally who finally pulled you out of the quagmire you had sunk into,” she suggested.
"Aye, it might have been. And, who is to say that, mayhap, saving your bonny head wasnae why he saved mine."
She laughed softly and shook her head. “I cannot believe your angel works to save your life just so that you may save my unworthy hide from my enemies."
"Ah, weel, since we are both so unworthy perhaps ‘Tis an angel who works his wonders out of pity."
"How very sad,” Gisele murmured. Then she laughed. “Whatever causes you to be so quick to sense danger, I pray it does not desert you. You are right. The DeVeaux are now most ardent in their pursuit. If something had not warned you of those men approaching we would have been an easy kill."
Nigel simply nodded in agreement with that grim truth. She had not reproached him for not keeping a closer watch, but she did not need to. He was doing it himself, thoroughly and passionately. It had been foolish and dangerous to become so completely distracted. He wondered if he already depended too much upon his strange gift, a gift that could desert him as quickly as it had come to him on the day he had been knighted. It had weakened, even failed him, from time to time, as if to scold him for his carelessness and arrogance. Using his own wits and skill he had escaped danger then, but now it was not just his own life at risk. He had sworn upon his honor to protect Gisele, and he needed to do a better job.
"Do you think we have lost them?” she asked, interrupting his self-castigation.
"Nay, we have just put some distance between us and them,” he replied. “If we can hold that distance for a while longer, then I will steal some of that precious time to try to hide our trail."
"Let us pray that one of them does not share your gift for sniffing out the enemy,” she said quietly, chancing one look behind her before she followed Nigel in nudging her horse to a faster pace.
Gisele grew silent, all her thoughts and strength used for one thing only—eluding the DeVeaux. When Nigel took the time to disguise their trail she nervously stood watch. Although she had been successful in her escape for nearly a year, the chase was growing so fierce she began to feel helpless. The fact that she really needed Nigel to keep her free and alive also made her feel helpless, for she had now lost what few choices she had had. With each step they took, each time he saved her life and kept her out of her enemy's hands, she became more dependent upon the man, and Gisele found that somewhat alarming. What would happen to her if she lost Nigel, either through death or injury or in finding some proof of her occasional fear that he would betray her as so many others had?
The only way to soothe those fears, she decided, was to learn all she could for as long as she was with Nigel. Instead of simply allowing him to lead, she would closely watch everything he did. She had no hope of being suddenly blessed with his strange gift of sensing danger long before anyone else could, but she could learn all of his skills. If fate were unkind enough to leave her alone again, she needed to know how to follow a trail, to best choose a hiding place, and hide her own trail from those who pursued her. That would at least give her a fighting chance against her enemies.
Throughout the afternoon they played a tense game of hide-and-seek with the DeVeaux. They spent so much time hiding their trail that Gisele was surprised the DeVeaux were not now in front of them instead of still dogging their heels. Just once did they draw near enough for her to see them, yet Nigel acted as if at any moment the DeVeaux would burst through the surrounding trees and cut them dead.
At only one time during the afternoon did they take what might be called a rest. They paused so that Nigel might hide their trail yet again and try to lay a false one. Gisele tried very hard to pay close attention, thinking the trick a good one to know, but slumped against her mount, surrendering to her weariness. Nigel suddenly appeared and, without a word, dragged her into a cluster of boulders at the base of a hill. There he secured their horses, then pushed and pulled her up the hill until they reached a smaller grouping of rocks.
"Are they here?” she asked when he pushed her inside and tugged her down with him as he crouched behind one of the larger rocks.
"Nay, not yet,” he replied in a tense whisper, not taking his gaze from the trail they had just deserted.
"Then why are we hiding?” she asked in an equally soft voice. “Why do we not just ride away?"
"I need to see how easily they can be fooled."
She thought that was a useful thing to know, and started to rise up enough to peer over the rock, then gave up. As she rested against the rock and closed her eyes she decided Nigel would be a better judge of such things, anyway. There were still several hours of daylight left, several more long, exhausting hours of running and hiding. If she were going to survive it, she felt that a little rest was far more important than seeing for herself if the DeVeaux could be fooled into heading the wrong way.
It seemed as if she had only just closed her eyes when she felt Nigel shaking her awake. “Cease, I am awake now,” she grumbled as she rubbed her eyes. “Are they gone?"
"Aye,” he replied as he pulled her to her feet and led her down the hill. “For a moment I feared one sharp-eyed mon had seen our horses, but he hadnae. They just rode along the trail I laid for them."
"Then we are safe.” She could not fully hide a grimace as she pulled her stiff body into her saddle and nudged her horse into following Nigel.
"Aye, for the moment. ‘Twill take them a wee while to see that that trail goes nowhere. I hope to regain the time and the distance we lost in making it."
"I thought you were trying to shake them free."
"I was. I am. But one shouldnae rely on such a trick working that weel. They have held fast to our trail for this long. That means that at least one of them has some skill."
Gisele did not find that news very comforting. She wanted reassurances. She wanted to be told that their enemies were gone, well and truly lost in the wilderness, never to haunt them again. As she struggled to quietly follow Nigel, Gisele wondered if he grew as weary of this game as she did.
When Nigel finally chose a campsite for the night, Gisele nearly cheered aloud. She was weary to the bone and not at all sure where they were after all the twists and turns Nigel had indulged in to elude the DeVeaux. After they had spent from dawn to dusk running for their lives, she also wondered how and when Nigel had decided they were safe enough to stop for the night.
She tended to her horse and slipped into the shelter of the surrounding wood for a moment of privacy. As she spread her bed out she glanced at the fire Nigel had built, and frowned. It was a small fire, well sheltered by encircling stones, but such a light could still be easily seen from a distance in the night. When he returned from stealing a moment of privacy for himself, Gisele sat down on her bedding and looked at him. She blithely ignored his brief but telling glance at her bed, which she had spread out on the same side of the fire as his.
"Are you certain we should have a fire?” she asked. “Welcome though it is, is it not a beacon for our enemies to follow?"
"They are too far away to see this wee light,” he replied.
Gisele blinked slowly, and stared at him hard for a long moment. “And just when did you decide they were a safe distance away?"
"Not many moments after they hied off down my false trail.” He watched her closely as he set out the remainder of the rabbit, the last of their bread, and a small chunk of cheese. He suspected she was angry, but he was not sure why she should be.<
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"Then why have you made us ride so hard and fast for hours?” Gisele grabbed a share of the food and struggled against the urge to strike him.
"I felt it best that we put as many miles as we could between us and them."
As she chewed on the stale bread, she fought to control her anger. He was right. It was wise to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the people who were so eager to kill her. She was achingly tired, and she dearly wanted to blame someone for that. Nigel was not the one, however. The one who deserved her fury was far beyond her reach. She was going to have to try to accept her lot with more grace and patience.
"I ask your pardon, Sir Murray,” she said quietly as she accepted the wineskin he held out to her and took a small drink, a little dismayed at how nearly empty it was. “I am tired, and am in an ill temper."
"That is easy to understand, lass."
"It may be, but you do not deserve the sharp edge of my tongue. It is not your fault that I ache and am enduring a miserable ride across France. I but search for someone to pay for this unjust discomfort I am suffering, and there is no one. The man who set me on this much cursed path is dead, and beyond the reach of my curses."
He parted her shoulder in a brief gesture of sympathy. “If justice has been served, lass, your husband is suffering dearly, enduring far more torment and torture than ye could e'er mete out."
"Do not be so certain. I can mete out a great deal.” She weakly returned his grin.
"'Twill soon be over."
"Will it, or will I simply be further away than I have been before now?” She sighed and held up her hand when he started to speak. “Do not trouble yourself to try to soothe my ill humor. That is all it is, an ill humor brought on because I am tired and cannot have what I want."
"And what do ye want, Gisele?” Nigel asked softly.
"I want to go home.” She grimaced. “Merde, I sound like a small child, but there is the truth of it. I want to go home. I want to sleep in my own warm, soft bed, bathe whenever the mood overcomes me, and eat whatever and whenever I want. I want to have no more reason to feel sorry for myself. And, for all of my complaining, I do recall that you suffer the same as I. I want that to stop, too. You deserve this no more than I do."
"But I am hardened to these discomforts, and ye arenae. I should try harder to remember that."
"Non, do not change what you are doing and must continue to do to keep us alive,” she said firmly. “For it is us now, not just me. The DeVeaux are hunting me, but they would kill you without hesitation, either because you stood in their way or because you have helped me. I cannot swear that I will not again whimper over my pains or feel sorry for myself, but you must pay it no heed. Running for one's life is much exhausting, and I do not often behave well or with any wit when I am so tired."
"Few of us do, lass. Ye can rest this night, for we have lost that pack of dogs."
"How can you be so certain? They found us, and I would never have believed they would."
Nigel shrugged. “I dinnae have a good answer for how they found us. They were lucky, and we were unlucky. It may be no more than that. I didnae hide our trail weel. I sought distance o'er secrecy. Now I will pay more heed to secrecy.” He smiled gently when she hastily raised a hand to cover a wide yawn. “Rest, wee Gisele. It has been a long day."
She sprawled on her bedding and weakly wrapped herself up in her thin blanket. “And there are many more long days ahead, are there not, Sir Murray?"
"Some, aye,” he replied as he settled down on his bed.” ‘Tis getting into and out of a port that will prove the hardest."
Gisele cursed softly. “Of course. The DeVeaux will have them all watched much closely."
"Verra closely."
"Pardon?"
"Not much closely, verra closely."
"This English is not an easy language."
"Ye speak it verra weel, far better than I can speak your language. Who taught it to you?"
"My grandmére. She was from Wales.” Gisele lightly touched the amulet she wore.
"That explains the odd lilt to your words. Ye have the hint of the French to your words, but I did puzzle o'er that other note I could hear.” He looked at the ornate medallion she idly stroked. “She gave you that?"
"Oui. She said the entwined circles of silver were formed by her father's father, or even the father before that. She was not completely sure. The seven garnets mark the seven sons he was blessed with. Grandmére said it would bring me good fortune."
"I think it has. Ye have survived a year despite being hunted down by a verra powerful and verra rich clan. There is good fortune many would envy."
"Then I pray it continues to bless us,” she murmured and closed her eyes, unable to keep them open a moment longer. “If you have any more questions to ask of me, Sir Murray, I fear they must wait until the morrow."
Nigel laughed softly when she almost immediately fell asleep, then grew solemn as he lightly brushed a dusting of dirt from her soft cheek. She was a strong little woman, enduring a lot, but he was not sure how much more she could tolerate. There was little choice, however. He hated to see her so weary and sore, but he did not wish to see her die, either, and that was the fate awaiting her if the DeVeaux caught up with them. As he closed his eyes and welcomed a much needed sleep, he swore that he would gift her with every comfort as soon as they reached Scotland. He also swore that he would do what her own family seemed incapable of or unwilling to do—free her from the DeVeaux's blind and unending thirst for revenge.
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Seven
"Are you certain this is wise?” Gisele asked as she and Nigel paused on a hillside and looked down on the village below.
She was still sore from their daylong flight from the DeVeaux, one night of rest not enough to fully replenish her strength. Fear also held her back. Her enemies had drawn very close to her and Nigel yesterday. She did not wish to give them another chance to catch her, and entering a busy village seemed to promise to do just that. Gisele was not sure they had any choice, however.
"We need supplies, lass,” Nigel said. “'Tis the wrong time of the year to glean all we need from the land."
"I know, and in the last few years there has not been much left to glean, anyway. The soldiers take it all."
Nigel sighed and nodded as he led them down the hill. “The army can be verra greedy. I have seen the men take all a land has to offer, leaving nothing for the poor souls who live there. It is one of the sadder consequences of war."
"And this country has been scarred by war time and time and time again. It is unending.” She shook her head. “I do not understand why it continues, although men always have a ready answer, speaking boldly of honor, bravery, rightful kings, and on and on. My grandmother once said that men are more easily offended than some withered, old, too pious nun with the bile."
For one long moment Nigel struggled to look at her sternly. The woman should not speak so insultingly about men. It could cause her a great deal of trouble. Men did not take kindly to such ridicule. Then he laughed, almost able to hear the old woman's sharp voice.
"Aye, lass,” he said, as he shared a smile with her, “sometimes it does seem exactly like that.” He grew serious as he reined to a halt before the stables at the edge of the village. “'Tis a shame that men tend to kill people when they are in the midst of a dark pout. In my land it becomes a feud that is passed from son to son and becomes a bloody heritage."
"Did your family suffer from such a tragedy?"
"Almost, but the truth was revealed and the bloodletting ceased."
Before she could ask him any more he dismounted and moved to speak to the stabler. Gisele felt uneasy, but when Nigel signaled her to dismount she did so without question. She had to trust someone at some time. Nigel seemed to be a good choice to start with. It did make her nervous to leave their horses in the hands of a stranger, however. That could make a swift escape a little difficult.
"Di
nnae look so fearful, lass,” Nigel said quietly as he took her by the arm and led her into town. “I cannae promise that we are completely safe, but I dinnae have any feeling that danger lurks around the next corner."
"You do not smell any enemies?” She tried to walk like a boy but some of the sharp looks she got told her that she might not be succeeding.
"Nay, I dinnae smell anything. Lass, the horses need to be reshod. They may last a day or all the way to Donncoille, my family's keep in Scotland, but we could also have one of our mounts begin limping but a mile outside of the village."
"They are that worn?"
"Aye, they are."
"Then they must be tended to. Lingering here may be dangerous, but trying to flee the DeVeaux on a lame horse would be more so.” She looked around. “It appears to be a prosperous village, as yet unscarred by this newest war, so we should be able to find all we need.” She frowned as he moved toward a tiny bakery. “Do you want me to talk to the merchants?"
"I can speak the language."
"I know, but you have confessed that you find it difficult to speak it in a way all can understand and that you often find it difficult to catch every word when we speak quickly."
"All of that is true, but I would feel better if I did it. Ye may look like a lad if one but peeks quickly, but I dinnae think ye will pass a verra close study.” He smiled faintly. “We rough-speaking Scots arenae such a strange sight any longer. Wait here, lass, and dinnae speak to anyone."
Gisele muttered a curse, but she did as she was ordered to. Even with her cap on she had begun to realize that her disguise was not as good as she had thought it was. Lurking silently in the shadows was probably the safest thing for her to do. She was beginning to think there was no way she could truly hide. As a woman she had been easily seen and easily remembered. She was not really having any better luck as a boy. There did not seem to be any other choices, however, except hiding deep in a cave until someone proved her innocence or the DeVeaux forgot about her and found someone else to torment. Gisele did not believe either would happen. She could not survive in a cave without some help, and the DeVeaux were well known to have very long memories.
Highland Honor [Murray Brothers Book 2] Page 7
