Windsong

by Allison Knight

  It appeared the weather today would be a repeat of the rest of the month. The thought seemed to trigger another bout of chilling rain. Droplets wet him, his horse and the woman before him. She shivered in her thin tunic. For a second, a touch of guilt speared him. He had not thought to gather a mantle for her before he carried her from the castle. He pulled his mount to a halt and signaled his man, Rhys Lloyd, who rode with the companion at the front of the line.

  When Rhys joined him, after handing his burden to another, he said, “I would have some kind of protection for the women. What have we?”

  “Not much, I fear. I will ask but most of the furs are heavy from the storms of days past.”

  Alwyn sighed and glanced at the puddles of water surrounding them. There would be nothing for a fire to warm either woman when they set up camp for the night. He whispered a curse. The weather never bothered him, nor his men, but a woman and someone as fragile as the one before him would surely be harmed.

  He ordered his men to make camp earlier than usual. He could ill afford to have this one sicken. They were days from his forest. There was no place between here and his forest where he could stop without having questions asked that he refused to answer. Nay, stopping at a manor or church might see the end of his revenge. He could not allow that to happen. Harlow was not far, but he could not impose on a friend of his brother by marriage.

  For a second, he paused. He did not know what name he should call this woman. He refused to refer to her as m’Lady when he doubted she possessed a title.

  As he sat his horse and ordered his men to set up their tents, he was annoyed with himself. In preparing for this taking, he had given no thought to the comfort of the women. That was not to his liking.

  When the first of the tents was secure against the now-steady beat of rain and threat of more wind, he dismounted and lifted the woman from his horse. When her feet reached the ground he released her but she wilted at his feet.

  “By the Virgin’s Blood, woman. Can you not stand?”

  She gazed at him and mumbled through blued lips, “I do not believe I can.”

  He lifted her into his arms, startled by how clammy her skin felt. Despite the chill of her skin, a warmth spread through him, something he wanted to deny but he could not. Something about this woman stirred his soul.

  She shook in his arms and he wondered if her skin was colder now than it had been when she rode before him. For one second, he suffered from a touch of fright. What if she sickened and died? Nay, he could not allow that to happen. He intended her no harm.

  Holding her gently, he strode toward the closest tent. “Bring her companion,” he shouted over his shoulder. Once inside the tent, he glanced at the scant accommodations and shook his head. With care, he laid her on the furs and turned to her companion who Rhys had escorted into the tent.

  “I apologize for the lack of warmth. It is too wet to build a fire so there will be nothing hot to take off the chills you both have suffered. We will seek better shelter tomorrow.”

  As Alwyn left the women, he rubbed his side, a habit he developed long ago after a battle with those who sought to conquer his father’s keep. He swore into the wind, remembering how that keep had eventually been lost. Squaring his shoulders, he shrugged off his own wet cloak. There was much to be done and he had no time for thoughts of things long past.

  ~*~

  Milisent blinked through blurred eyes and watched the two warriors leave the tent. Relief coursed through her, but it did little to help, for she had never been so cold in her life. She pulled herself into a sitting position, wrapped her arms around her frigid body, and listened to drops of water hit the oiled cloth of the tent. At least Ella was here.

  “Who are they and what do they want with us?”

  “I asked questions but they would tell me little.” Ella approached and placed a hand on her forehead. Milisent didn’t like the annoyed look Ella sent her way.

  “Am I to be taken to de Bain, or to one of my brother’s friends?”

  “Nay, I do not believe it is their intent. The only thing I overheard was something about revenge.” Ella twisted the edge of Milisent’s gown trying to remove some of the water.

  Milisent nodded her thanks and sank back to the damp fur. If they had not taken her for marriage, then for ransom? That did happen occasionally.

  “Revenge? Nay, you must have misunderstood. They must be seeking ransom.” Milisent gritted her teeth against the cold seeping through her very soul.

  Ella glanced at the opening of the tent and blushed. “This you must know. I heard talk between two soldiers. They think you are whore to Chelse.”

  “B-but he is my brother.”

  Ella frowned. “M’Lady, I doubt they know who you are. If that is what they believe, mayhap you would be better served not to reveal your kinship.”

  “I can not worry on this now. Ella, I am cold, so cold. Is there any way to escape this cold? Or better yet, can we escape these men?”

  “It is too wet for a fire. I doubt they would want to attraction the attention the smoke would bring.” Ella wrung her hands. “And nay, m’Lady, escape would be impossible. I heard the leader command a watch about the camp. If we tried to leave, they would surely catch us. Be of good heart. I do not think they want to harm us. Their leader appears concerned for our welfare.” Ella gave her a smile and Milisent suspected she was trying to reassure her. Both of them could only guess at the actions of men.

  “They look for something dry to warm you. I will take my leave to collect whatever they have found.” Ella started for the opening.

  “You will return?” Milisent was horrified at the pleading tone of her voice, but she was frightened. Mayhap even more frightened than standing up to Gilbert with her refusal to wed de Bain.

  Ella walked back to her side and patted her arm. “Know they can not keep me from you. Do not worry. I will return with something to warm you. You have my word.”

  “Please take care.” Milisent wiggled into the fur aware the damp could never provide the warmth she sought and watched Ella slip outside.

  She tried to remember if she had ever seen any of the men who had taken her. None of them had a familiar look about them nor did she recognize their tongue. Ella might have the right of it. But revenge? Did that mean torture? Terror filled her and she shook with that.

  Her head was aching with her attempt to sort out what had happened. In fact, all of her hurt. The way he had carried her from her chamber had undoubtedly bruised her ribs, and her hand still throbbed where she had pounded his armor. Nor was she accustomed to riding. She was given little occasion to ride when Gilbert was not in residence for she was watched like a falcon soaring above the master. Nor would she ride when he entertained for fear one of his guests caught her alone.

  She wanted nothing more than to release the ribbons of her gown and remove the wet garment, but without Ella present, she did not dare. The thought her companion might be prevented from returning to her caused more fear. What she suffered now was even greater than her terror at being united with the man Gilbert had chosen for her.

  The minutes passed as she waited for Ella; her fear grew. What would she do if they refused to allow Ella to return? She could hear the soldiers moving outside her tent and as their voices grew closer she tensed. She was a woman alone, surrounded by men about which she knew nothing. Was it their intent to harm her or hold her?

  She would fight them if need be, but at the moment all she wanted

  was to get warm. Her thoughts grew more jumbled. If only this was a dream.

  What a silly thought. When had the reality of her situation begun to feel like a nightmare? She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. Nay, this was real. She was being held captive by a strange group of men, but for what purpose?

  When Ella slipped through the opening, Milisent sighed with relief. “I have found a blanket, m’Lady. It is drier than the furs.” She moved toward the furs and pressed the blanket in Milisent’s hand. T
he scent of wet wool greeted her and she shook the blanket out, seeking to wrap it around her shoulders.

  Ella stayed her hand. “I’m going to help you remove your wimple and your gown. Their leader found a mantle in which you can cover yourself until your clothing dries.” Ella reached for her head.

  “Please, I hurt too much to bother removing anything.” She pulled the damp wool around herself denying Ella’s aid.

  She paid no attention to Ella’s concerned expression. The blanket was warmer than the furs and she hugged it close. “I really think sleep is what I need. You must also take your rest. We know not what tomorrow will bring.” Nor did she want to think about the effect the man who captured her had on her.

  Outside the tent, Alwyn paced around the camp, his second in command at his side. “The weather conspires against me,” he muttered. He was disgusted with himself, but he would not admit that or his reasons for his displeasure to Rhys. How could she affect him as she had? She was the mistress of his sworn enemy.

  “‘Tis bad, indeed,” Rhys agreed. “But sir, what can you do? No place will offer you shelter this close to his land. They might even send word to Chelse and your plans would be for naught.”

  “Aye, ‘tis what I fear.” Alwyn paused and glanced at the tent now some distance from them and tired to ignore the sudden increase in the beating of his heart. He spoke his concern out loud. “Without some form of comfort, the women will sicken and then what will I do? If either one becomes ill I will have to return them. That I can not do.”

  Rhys shook his head. “The weather is not yours to command, m’Lord. Mayhap we can find a villein who would share their cottage. At least there would be some warmth for the women inside the structure.”

  “Send one of the men to seek shelter to the north.” Alwyn raked his hand through his hair. “Nay, send two.” Sending one of his men out alone, in enemy territory did not appeal. “At least, Chelse will not find out what has happened for days yet.” He paused for a moment then added, “The men will have to secure some clothing for the women and inquire about shelter. Anything will do. See they have a few coins to offer for dry garments and a bit of shelter.”

  Rhys looked pleased with the plan and hurried to carry out the new

  orders.

  Alwyn noted the satisfaction on Rhys face after he issued the order. His second had a tender heart. A warrior could not have such a soft nature when it came to the comfort of others, for it could mean his death.

  Yet, was he not just as bad? Nay, he was worse. He had allowed the woman to touch his feelings and now he worried about her health. His plans would have to be changed so he could provide a bit of comfort during their journey. Of importance were the garments they wore. They had a need for dry clothing and although it would have to be the simple dress of peasants, it would do for now.

  The image that popped into his mind at the thought of his captive baring her body to change her wet garments was upsetting. He knew she had a fine figure for he had felt her firm breasts from beneath her gown when he hoisted her onto his shoulder and carried her from the castle. When he threw her on his horse he discovered his hands could easily span her waist. At the same time he had also caught a glimpse of her leg, long and trim. With what he now knew about her he could visualize the lushness of her body.

  To his horror, he was aroused. Nay, this could not be allowed. He could never bed a woman who had slept with his enemy. No matter how tempting her curves might be. He walked out into the cold rain and prayed the chill of the night would squelch the pain between his legs. The sooner he got back to Throsle the better for him. Sybil was waiting; she would open herself to him even though he would continue to refuse to name her wife.

  TWO

  While Alwyn awaited the return of the men sent to find a place to warm the women, he inspected the watch around the camp. More than once, he was tempted to check on his captive and her companion, but he refused to give in to his curiosity. He ordered food taken to them and instructed the messenger to apologize for the lack of anything to warm them. Taking victuals to them himself was out of the question. The less he saw of the woman tonight the better for him.

  It was long after the midnight hour when their scouts arrived back in camp. The report was not good.

  “We did find a dwelling,” one of the men said, “but it is scarcely more than a hovel. The couple there declared they had to obtain permission from Baron Chelse before they housed anyone. They are but serfs.”

  “What did you tell them?” Alwyn rapped out the question, his voice raised in alarm.

  “I said only the ladies in our party were soaked and cold from our travels. I let them believe we had traveled some distance. I offered a bit of grain and a skin of ale and asked for dry garments. I left them after the old woman wrapped these in a bundle.” He offered a cloth wrapped package to Alwyn.

  “Did they question you about the ladies, or whom you serve?”

  “Nay. They seemed anxious to see me gone from their door. ‘Tis clear they fear Chelse.”

  “They asked nothing?”

  “Nay, nor did we say anything to them. It is as I told you. I said only the ladies in our party were wet and cold.”

  Alwyn breathed a sigh of relief as he accepted the bundle and dismissed the men with thanks.

  Rhys stepped forward, his own brow creased with a frown. “M’lord, we must not spend more time this close to Chelse’s tentants.”

  Alwyn smiled for the first time in hours. “Fear not. Gilbert Mortimore, Lord Chelse is in London and will not know of our trespass until my messenger arrives. He will have to first discover who has taken his castle before he can hire more men to begin a search. We have time to reach the forest long before he can complain to Edward.”

  He handed the bundle of clothing to one of his men. “‘Tis not wise to wake the ladies now, but you will take this to them in the morn along with food to break their fast.” At least he could offer the women this bit of comfort, undoubtedly not the kind they had known, but better than what they had. He grimaced. With any luck, neither woman would suffer much because he had not anticipated their needs.

  ~*~

  Milisent woke the next morn chilled to the bone. Her sleep had oft times been interrupted by a fierce wind whistling through the tent. Even Ella’s soft snores had added to her discomfort.

  She crawled from the furs and wondered if she had ever before been this cold. Her only desire at the moment was to find a way to gain some heat. She shivered as she wrapped the damp blanket around herself, the odor of wet wool adding to her discomfort.

  “The morn is already old. I wonder if we are to travel away from this place this day.” Ella already awake, stood at the tent opening gazing at the camp.

  Milisent tried for a touch of humor. “You could ask.”

  Her expression had Ella asking, “Oh, m’Lady, what is the matter?”

  “Nothing. I fear what is to come. Gilbert will be most unhappy when he discovers his property was attacked and I slipped from his hand. I worry about what will happen when he finds me.”

  “Aye, he possesses a nasty temper. He will yield his sword against those who attempted this.” Ella shook her head.

  Milisent nodded. “When last he visited, he said he would wear me down to his will if it meant he would have to withhold my food. He was angry but is determined to wed me to Baldwin Stanton de Bain, no matter my will in this manner. And I know not why?” She shivered again.

  “‘Tis your dowry, of course. Gilbert has to have your agreement to take the husband he named. Your father’s instruction was explicate. You must agree, or your husband can claim nothing.”

  Milisent gave a slight smile. “My brother does not realize I will never accept his decree. The man he named to husband me would kill me more slowly than a lack of food.”

  She sighed and sank back into the furs. “I know of de Bain’s wife who died two summers ago. His servants like to gossip. Those who traveled with him said he beat her to death, but she
suffered much for ten summers before she succumbed.” Milisent paled as she remembered what her maid had been told by one of the soldiers. According to the man, de Bain took a knife to his wife’s face to keep other men from desiring her. According to the soldier, she was not that comely before her husband mutilated her.

  Cold fear lent more misery to her torment as a soldier called from

  outside the tent. “M’Ladies, I bring something to break your fast and dry clothing.” The man called Rhys pushed through the opening with caution and Milisent almost smiled. He looked most unhappy with his assignment.

  He handed a bundle to Ella. “These are the dry garments. I also have bread and cheese. One of the men will return with a skin of ale. We will travel from here soon, so you must eat quickly.”

  Ella glared at him and pushed him toward the opening. “We will wait until someone returns with the ale before we dress so he had better be quick.”

  Once a soldier returned with the ale and departed, Milisent eyed the bundle of clothing with a longing glance. A dry gown sounded much better than stale bread, a flagon of ale, or molded cheese.

  “I want to shed this gown before I partake of any food.”

  “Aye, I will stand guard.” Ella opened the bundle of clothing and shook the folds from the garments, looking at them with disgust. She sniffed at the gowns. “They offer peasants clothing and they carry the smell of age.” She gave a sound of disgust. “At least they are clean.”

  Within minutes Milisent pulled the still damp bliaud and chainse from her figure. She struggled to don the tunic and gasped at the coarse threads pressed against her skin.

  “Mayhap this is all they could obtain.” The garment scraped her skin but it had more warmth than what she was wearing. “Do not scowl so. At least the garments are dry. We will not have to travel in damp clothing.”

  After they ate and left the tent, Milisent gazed at a shrouded sun but before she could comment, the man who had kidnapped her appeared, holding the reins of two supply horses, both little more than nags.