Windsong

by Allison Knight

  much if I do not return soon.”

  “How can you say those words?” Ella swung away from the bed and grabbed her arm. “He would wed you to a man we both know is nothing more than a brute, a man who will beat you unto death if you deny him his will.”

  “I can convince Gilbert I will not marry de Bain.”

  Ella made a sound of disgust and dropped her arm. “Aye, and now you will deny he planned to withhold your meals until you agreed to that union.” She spun back to her bed. “You must admit the truth. Your brother cares little for you. De Bain holds something against him and Gilbert values his life more than he values yours. You are safer here.”

  “I am not safe!”

  “Tell me the meaning of those words,” Ella demanded, her voice rising. “Has someone threatened you, hurt you in any way? I will tell Rhys.”

  “Nay, none have caused harm. ‘Tis nothing. I just want to go home.” Milisent crawled under her furs and turned away from her companion. If Ella would not go with her, she would leave on her own.

  The next morning, she, like the other servants, followed the noise to the courtyard where the two brothers struggled to best each other in a mock duel. It was difficult to tell if either man was winning, for both were growing battered and bruised as they circled the space set aside of the conflict. At one point, Arvel proclaimed that Alwyn’s blows were not as hard as they once had been.

  “They war like this often?” she asked Cook, who stood beside her.

  “Aye, they enjoy tussling with each other when they get together.” Cook grinned, wiping her hands on her soiled gown. “When the family gathers together, all five are wont to start swinging fists some time during their visit.”

  Milisent caught one word. She stared at the woman. “Five of them? There are more?”

  “Aye,” Cook beamed with pride and privilege. She claimed service at the family keep in Wales before the English waged war on the master. She knew all the family. “There are five brothers and one sister.” She nodded, then added, “She gave as good as her brothers when it was needed, although she is wed now and has a child.”

  “Five,” Milisent mumbled and gazed at the two men pummeling each other. Surely they did not find this entertaining. The pounding each received had to be painful.

  “Brothers do that.” Cook closed the conversation and walked away to stand next to another. Milisent stayed where she was for a moment. For a reason she did not want to examine, each blow Alwyn took caused a hurt in her. Still she could not turn away. Mayhap the two men would kill each other. Something inside her recoiled at the thought. She groaned as the soldiers around the men roared their pleasure. Soon. This had to end soon.

  In the gathered audience, everyone, from servant to soldier, was enjoying the spectacle. Even Ella who now stood beside Rhys, was as engrossed as everyone else.

  A sudden thought rushed through Milisent. If everyone was watching the men...

  Keeping her eyes on the crowd, she backed toward the steps. Now. This might be her only opportunity. Just then a mighty roar sounded. Milisent heard a shout from first Arvel then Alwyn. She froze. But not a soul turned away from the battle. It seemed the brothers were not finished trying to kill each other.

  Now. She had to leave now. She rushed into the kitchen, grabbed a round of bread and a wedge of cheese. With the food caught in her gown, she raced for her chamber. She dumped the food into a cloth and swung her cloak over her arm. Even though spring could only be a short time away, she would need it for the day still carried a chill.

  The sounds in the courtyard indicated the battle continued. She tiptoed away from her chamber and out of the house. Another glance assured her she would have to travel by foot for taking a horse would alert someone of her escape. If she stayed close to the trees, no one would notice as she slipped away.

  Mayhap in time, she could find a mount, but for now, she must travel on foot.

  Milisent gathered her cloak tight, tied the bag of food around her wrist and ran toward a stand of trees. Concentrating on the weak sun, she determined there was at least two hours before the nooning. The sun would be her guide toward Fenton Castle—west of Throsle.

  Staying close to the trees for a time, she ran a distance then rested as she watched for any movement from the direction of Throsle. Time passed as she first ran, then rested trying to pace herself. With disgust she realized the sun kept disappearing into gathering clouds, the kinds that spoke of rain.

  “Nay, it cannot rain,” she mumbled as she walked for a time.

  Hunger told her the nooning must be past. Milisent found a spot in the trees where she nibbled on bread and cheese. She sighed with displeasure. She had neglected to think of something to drink. Surely she would pass a stream of some kind as she traveled. Wrapping the cloth around the remaining food, she retied it and started walking again.

  As the day grew older, she pressed on, often glancing behind her. By now they must have finished their battle and Ella would have realized Milisent had left. Would they look for her? Of course! First they would search the house, then they would consider the land surrounding the property. Would they guess she had traveled west?

  Aye, they would know, for Ella would say it was so.

  Frustration grew as she realized the trees had thinned. Spread ahead were fields laying fallow waiting for spring. She glanced behind once more then at the barren land before her. With the sun behind the clouds she could only guess at the time but she could not cross the land in daylight. Hiding among the trees would be her best choice until she was certain no one followed.

  For how long? Mayhap the rest of this day but could she travel in the dark of night? She refused to give the question an answer.

  She gazed at the trees behind her and gritted her teeth as she shivered. There was nothing to cause such a reaction. Milisent had seen no one, heard nothing, but she needed to hide until she was certain she was not being pursued.

  However, forests held dangers.

  Aye, but she had no choice. Again she tilted her head to one side and listened.

  Nothing.

  She headed for the trees, picking the biggest one with the thickest branches. If someone or something approached, she could climb into the limbs and hide. If she was being perused by someone from Throsle, they would search the ground, not the trees.

  She had yet to settle herself when a new sound rammed terror through her heart like a stake.

  “Nay,” she cried and began to climb.

  The rutting, snorting sounds grew louder as she climbed. She ignored the tearing twigs that pulled at her hair and her gown.

  From the barren branches she glimpsed the tusks then the bristling body of a wild boar. With one hand she seized the branch beside her and a loud crack rent the air. Gasping she reached above her for another branch. It held and she swung onto the limb. She grabbed the branch intent on pulling herself higher, but it bent with the strain.

  For a second she jerked her gaze from the snorting creature below and looked up. The limbs would never hold her weight. But was she high enough?

  She froze.

  If she moved, would this branch bend or break?

  The boar pawed the ground, gave a deep growl and squealing with anger, he charged.

  The tree shuddered.

  Milisent shook.

  “Nay,” she whispered. “Go away. Please go away.”

  The boar charged again. Her tree limb swayed with the strike. She clung to the wood and rested her face against the trunk.

  Again the boar charged, the tree shifted but she hung on. She didn’t want to die, especially not on the tusks of this wild creature.

  Over the grunts and squeals came another sound. Milisent lifted her head.

  Horses!

  A new fear invaded. What if she entered land owned by a cruel master? She was dressed as a serf, and runaway serfs were punished severely. Ella had the right of it. She should have stayed where she was.

  The pounding hooves grew louder and she
heard the shout of men, not one, but several.

  Panic grew.

  The noise of the horses stopped the boar for a moment as if he realized he would soon have competition. She tensed and peered through the branches. At least they would distract the boar, but her hiding place would be discovered. She cringed and hugged the tree.

  The first of the horses came into view. She thought she recognized the man on the horse. The second man she knew and relief poured through her. He would save her.

  The look on his face sent more alarm. He looked angry enough to inflect more pain than Sybil had caused. Her attempted escape had not succeeded. Alwyn rode toward her tree.

  He spotted the boar, then glanced up at her hiding place. With his horse dancing with stress at the smell of the boar, Alwyn yelled to the men behind him.

  The boar refused to be distracted and pawed the ground. He roared his displeasure and charged her tree before spinning to confront the man.

  Suddenly, she was no longer concerned for herself. If the boar lunged at Alwyn’s horse, now prancing with fear, both horse and man would be at the mercy of the wild animal. Her gaze stayed riveted on Alwyn and the boar.

  The twang of a half dozen arrows merged with the squeal and roar of the boar. From somewhere behind a spear flew past. Milisent pressed herself against the trunk and closed her eyes.

  The shout of the men drowned out the death cries of the animal and Milisent sagged with relief. With her eyes shut against the carnage, she hugged the tree intent on pretending her hiding place was safe.

  “You can climb down now.”

  She shivered even as she clung to the trunk.

  “Come down, now.” The voice grew impatient.

  “Nay, I will not,” she whispered. She peeked around the bark and watched as several men milled through the stand of trees. Amusement graced most of the faces.

  “Aye, you will.” Alwyn stood below her tree now.

  A strange dizziness struck her and she grabbed the limb next to her. Heights had never bothered her, but she had little experience climbing trees. Nor had she given a thought to leaving her perch when she fled from the boar.

  “Nay, do not look at the ground,” came the order. “And you will

  climb down now.”

  She had no choice; she had to abandon the tree.

  She reached for another branch above to steady her descent. The branch broke in her hand.

  She grabbed the trunk. How would she get down?

  She heard the cursing and refused to look at the source.

  “I will give you direction. Listen to me.”

  She closed her eyes and nodded.

  He chuckled. “But you have to open your eyes. Nay, do not look down. To your right there is a bigger limb. Grab it with one hand. Now, with your foot, reach for the limb to your left. Nay, not there! More to the left. Good. Now ease yourself down to that limb.”

  She followed his instruction and slowing made her way toward the ground. When she thought she would never reach solid earth, he grabbed her. Milisent slumped against him. From nowhere chills shook her.

  As realization bit into her with devastating force she ignored her shivers. Had Alwyn and his men not arrived, she would eventually have been knocked from the tree and torn asunder by the boar. Guilt descended as well, for Alwyn himself could have been injured. That thought hurt more than imagining the pain of the tusks rending her flesh.

  All she could do was relish the relief that surged through her. He had come. He saved her from a certain death. Her breath caught as she tried to stop her teeth from chattering. She tried to become a part of him and refused to question why she wanted stay in his arms forever.

  ~ * ~

  Alwyn stared at the carcass of the boar and breathed a sigh of relief. These animals did not give up. The trees here were young, and eventually, after sufficient charges, the boar would have done enough damage that the trunk would have given way. She would have fallen and been torn to pieces.

  He did not want to think about that, or to wonder why the thought caused great pain, mayhap as much pain as she would have suffered. Even sheltered in his arms she was shaking with what had to be shock. The need to comfort surprised him.

  “‘Tis over now.” He patted her shoulder suppressing his desire to draw her so close she became a part of him.

  He remembered the cold blood that raced through his body when Rhys brought Ella to him. After the fight, he had bathed, dressed and strode to the dais as the two arrived before him. The expression on Rhys’ face did not bode well for whatever information Ella had to render.

  “She is gone,” Ella announced.

  He knew immediately of whom she spoke. “When,” he asked and grabbed his sword and dagger.

  “It must have been during the battle.” Ella stood ringing her hands. “She wanted to go back to Fenton Castle. But, he will kill her.”

  “Who—Chelse?”

  “Nay, not him. The man he wants her to marry is de Bain!” Ella looked ready to cry. Alwyn hated a woman’s tears.

  “He is a monster, spawn of the devil.”

  “Chelse?”

  “Nay, de Bain.” Her shoulders were shaking. “He killed his first wife.” She took a shuddered breath. “He will kill Milisent, for she will never abide him. You must go after her.”

  “See if she took a horse,” he ordered Rhys.

  Rhys shook his head. “I asked. None of the horses have been taken.”

  “She is on foot.”

  “Aye and Ella says she knows to go west and she is learned enough to follow the sun’s direction.”

  Within moments Alwyn gathered several men and rode west.

  Now, as he stood holding her, the reaction coursed through him. It had almost been a tragic mishap. Her death would have gutted him. He shook his head. Nay, her death would have ruined his need for revenge! He had to remember that.

  Over and over, he told himself his concern had to be revenge. But he could not deny the truth. She had started to mean something to him. He wanted her. That thought shook him as much as the thought of her body gored by the creature.

  Afraid the sight of the dead boar would frightened her more, he drew her closer still. Her fragrance invaded his senses and he jerked his head. He rested her head in his shoulder protecting her from the bloody scene as he gave direction to his men.

  As if the sky sensed her distress, the wind picked up and the small trees bent with the force of the blow.

  “We must be away from here and soon,” he said. “The sky has a glow I do not like.”

  Clouds boiled above them. Rain began to pelt them.

  “If you want to take her back to the house,” Rhys offered, “I will ask for a volunteer or two to care for the carcass.”

  Alwyn nodded, and handed her to Rhys so he could mount his horse.

  She struggled, but Rhys said, “He only mounts his horse. He will take you back to the house. Ella feared for your safety and waits there. She will attend you and offer a few words—”

  “Nay, not now, Rhys.” Alwyn bent and reached for her. “She does not need to worry about Ella until we are there.”

  Rhys handed her to him and Alwyn held her in his arms clutched tight against him.

  “Nay,” she whispered. “Let me sit the horse.”

  Reluctantly he placed her before him. “Be still. You do not want to upset my stallion. He is all ready stressed with the smell of the kill.”

  She gave up and Alwyn himself tried to relax.

  The rain beat down on them as they made their way along the edge of the trees. Lightning streaked across the sky and thunder rumbled sending more shudders through them both. The stallion objected but Alwyn kept a tight rein on him.

  “Soon. You had not come as far as I feared.” He tried to shield her from some of the rain, however they would both be soaked by the time they reached Throsle. He pushed the horse into a gallop and steadied her as they rode. After a short time the roof of the house came into view and he urged the hor
se to a walk.

  In the courtyard, servants rushed out to welcome him despite the weather.

  “Inside,” he ordered.

  He swung from the saddle and lifted Milisent to the ground just as a lad appeared to take his horse. Mayhap shock had taken hold, because, before he could take a step, she sagged against him. He lifted her into his arms and started up the stairs.

  “We are home,” he announced but she made no response. She needed warmth and dry garments. He sighed with relief seeing Ella standing at the doorway awaiting them.

  “Release me. I can stand,” she whispered.

  Ella trotted behind. “Is she all right? One of the men said a boar attacked. Was she injured?”

  “No injuries.”

  He started toward the chamber she shared with Ella. At the doorway, he paused, the woman in his arms struggling to gain her feet.

  “Nay. Do not attempt to stand yet for your have suffered a fright.”

  When she began to shake with cold he looked at the two beds, the barren room, the cold gray walls a testament to the lack of heat in the room. He could not leave her here. She would take on more of a chill. Memories of another time surfaced. Milisent sick from a lack of his. She could not stay in this room.

  But where?

  The great hall had a fireplace, but she would have no chance to recover from her ordeal. The rooms above were not heated. Nay, that was not the whole of it. His room had heat, the one other room in his house with a fireplace. She would have to occupy his room. He turned toward the hall and the stairs leading to his chamber. He continued to carry her across the hall toward his bed.

  Alwyn lowered her to his bed just as Arvel stuck his head around the portal. “The men told me what happened. She should have some warm wine. It will aid in relaxation.”

  Ella pushed past Alwyn. “I will see to it. But first…” She stepped to bed. “Are you hurt? Did you suffer any injury?” She turned on Alwyn. “Look

  you at her hands and her cheek. She is bleeding.”