Beloved Abductor

by June Francis

  ‘Brave as usual, Philip, hitting a man when he’s down,’ gasped Felicia, drenched with fear as she tried to pull away from him.

  ‘Silence, sweet coz. I have no desire to shut your mouth permanently—yet.’ Philip lifted her struggling body and flung her over his horse, knocking the breath out of her. Then he climbed up behind and dug his heels into his horse and headed for the cover of the trees on the other side of the river.

  *

  There was barely any breeze as Joan and Dickon walked slowly towards the river. The sky had darkened and a flash of lightning suddenly lit up the darkness. ‘Not the ... right time to come for a ... walk, I deem.’ Dickon looked up at the sky and then yawned.

  ‘Just—Just let us go as far as the river,’ suggested Joan anxiously. ‘We can always shelter among the trees if it comes on to rain.’ She wanted to get him as far away from the house as possible, believing that soon Philip would arrive.

  Dickon gave a low laugh. ‘You are set on this walk, aren’t you?’

  He swayed slightly, and Joan took his arm. Perhaps the walk was too much for him in his present state! Why had she not considered that before?

  ‘Maybe we can take shelter in the village if you tire,’ she suggested. ‘Thomas will help you back to the house later.’ She kept hold of his arm, urging him on.

  Dickon gave another yawn, and his eyelids drooped. ‘Maybe we should go back to the house right now, Joan?’ He halted, and rammed his stick into the ground. ‘I wonder where Felicia is? I hope she returns home before the rain comes.’

  ‘I hope so too,’ said Joan, feeling sick inside.

  ‘Let us go back.’ Dickon’s words came out in sleepy muffled tone and then to Joan’s horror, he crumpled slowly to the ground.

  ‘Oh, Dickon!’ she cried, sinking to her knees beside him. She tried to lift him but could not. A sob escaped her because his face appeared yellow in the eerie twilight brought on by the threatening storm. ‘I did not mean to hurt you, my love. I beg you not to die on me. Please, Dickon, wake up!’ she urged.

  But he did not answer her.

  The sound of splashing water caused Joan to look up and fear seized her. She attempted to lift Dickon again, heaving desperately, thinking that perhaps she could drag him under a bush and conceal him so he would be safe.

  ‘Who’s there?’ The voice was sharp.

  But it brought her some relief for she knew for certain that the its owner would assist them. ‘Edmund, we need your help!’ Her voice wavered and sank as Felicia’s husband slid from the back of the horse and caught sight of her.

  ‘Joan, what are you doing here?’

  ‘Never mind that now,’ she cried. ‘Attend, Dickon. I fear he might have been poisoned.’

  A frown crossed Edmund’s face as he stared down at Dickon. He knelt and felt for his friend’s pulse and then looked at Joan. ‘He’s not dead. Why should you believe he has been poisoned? And what are you doing here with a storm approaching? Does Felicia know you are here?’

  ‘No!’ Joan closed her eyes tightly and then opened them again. ‘The man gave me a love-potion for her but I gave it to Dickon. I love him and I want him to love me in return. Although I do not deserve his love.’ She burst into tears. ‘I’m sorry, so sorry!’

  Edmund was filled with a sudden dread. ‘Who is this man, you speak of? Why should he give you a love potion for my wife?’

  Joan forced back her sobs and wiped away her tears. ‘I thought him an angel at first because he was so fair, only later did he mention Philip.’

  Edmund swore. ‘You poor fool! He most likely gave you a sleeping-draught for Felicia! If Philip has her, then …’ He could not finish.

  ‘But she did not take the sleeping-draught, so she will flee from him,’ said Joan.

  ‘But where will she hide? Is she still up at the house?’ Edmund sprang to his feet, hope in his eyes.

  Joan’s expression altered. ‘Oh, my goodness! I have just remember that she went for a walk!’

  Edmund’s spirits plummeted and he seized Joan’s arm. ‘Tell me she did not go alone!’

  Joan nodded. ‘But that does not say that Philip found her and has taken her from you,’ she said hastily.

  Edmund wanted to believe that his wife was safe but in his heart he knew it was not true. In the sudden silence there came a groan. Edmund glanced at Dickon, but he was still asleep. Then a faint voice spoke Edmund’s name. He looked about him, even as the voice came again and he was able to pinpoint its direction. He spotted a dark shape huddled on the ground and wasted no time hurrying over to the spot. Joan followed him, watching as Edmund knelt in the grass and touched the ugly wound all down the right side of the man’s face with a gentle hand.

  ‘Who did this to you?’ he rasped.

  ‘Don’t you recognise me, Edmund?’

  ‘It’s the man who gave me the love-potion,’ said an astonished Joan. ‘He does not look so angelic now.’

  ‘Steven!’ exclaimed Edmund, staring at him incredulously. ‘By the saints, how did you become involved in this?’

  ‘It’s a long tale, Edmund,’ he whispered. ‘If I had known she was yours, then I would not have crossed the street to speak to Meriet. But I needed money and the cur spun me a yarn.’

  ‘Dammit, Steven, where is my wife?’ Edmund grabbed Beaufort by the throat, almost choking his old friend.

  Steven coughed and tugged at Edmund’s hand. ‘There is a hunting-lodge not far away. Listen closely and I will give you directions,’ he said hoarsely.

  Chapter Fourteen

  From the corner of her eye, Felicia caught sight of Philip as he entered the darkened room, carrying a tallow candle. Fear threatened to destroy her rigid self-control and she struggled against her bonds. It was only a short while since they had arrived at the hunting-lodge and it had not taken them long to reach here. An hour perhaps since they had left for dead the man, who had claimed to be an old friend of Edmund. She had not ceased praying in all that time that by some miracle, Edmund would find her.

  ‘I like fire.’ Philip stared at the flicking candle flame. ‘I achieved enormous pleasure from setting your house at Meriet alight. I wish my father could have been there to see his old home burn. He never stopped talking about the place and I grew to hate it.’

  ‘Edmund and I shall build a house to surpass in beauty the former one at Meriet,’ she said defiantly.

  ‘Do not mention that bastard’s name! How could you marry him? You hurt me by refusing me and you will pay for it!’ Her cousin’s eyes glinted with anger and he held the candle over her bare arm, causing some of the melted tallow to drip onto her skin.

  She drew in her breath with a hiss and glared at him. ‘You’re not only cruel but you’re a coward and quite mad!’

  ‘I’d have a care what you say to me, coz, if you value your life.’

  Philip placed the candleholder on the table and picked up a pitcher of wine and filled a goblet. He took a gulp of the wine, then came over and held the goblet to her lips. ‘Drink!’

  Felicia shook her head.

  He seized her chin and forced some of the wine between her lips. She choked and her stomach heaved. He stepped back and drank again from the goblet. ‘Aren’t you going to plead with me for your life, Felicia?’ He picked up the candle and singed a torn-off scrap of her gown. ‘I will have my way with you and then I promise that I will have you burnt at the stake as a witch.’

  His words caused her heart to leap painfully. Horror gripped her. She did not doubt he would do what he said. On the way he had told her that the Montfort had won the day and most of his enemies had been slain and lay dead on the battlefield. No doubt her husband was amongst them, he had added with a smirk. But he could be lying. She wished she knew one way or the other Edmund’s fate. It would enable her to face death more courageously if he had perished on the battlefield.

  ‘What, still you will not plead with me? Damn you, Felicia!’

  He picked up a knife from the table. Her heart thu
dded inside her chest as he came towards her. To her amazement, he slashed the cords that tied her to the chair, holding each wrist as he released it. As he started to drag her from the seat, she stamped on his foot. He swore. She managed to free herself and raced for the front door. Even as she attempted to open it, the rain came. It hammered on the roof and rattled the shutters whilst the wind tossed the branches of the trees outside, so that they seemed to be threatening to topple. The noise of the storm seemed to be building up into a crescendo of thunderous music.

  Philip seized her from behind. She swung her arm back and down and elbowed him viciously. He oophed and doubled over. She would have fallen against the door if it had not opened unexpectedly and a gust of cold air and rain swept in, drenching her to the skin. She gasped with the shock of it and then she noticed the man in the doorway, holding a sword in his right hand. His free arm went round her, preventing her from falling. She felt dizzy with wonder and relief and pressed her cheek against his chest. She would have recognised the smell of him anywhere: even though the scent of sandalwood mingled with that of blood, sodden wool and damp undergrowth. Her arms slid beneath his cloak and her fingers clung to the white surcote he wore over chain mail. ‘Edmund, praise be, you’re alive!’ she said in a muffled voice.

  Emotion held him by the throat, so he was unable to speak for a moment. He rested his head against hers and held her tightly. They remained so for what seemed an age and then she lifted her face to gaze up at him with tears in her eyes. He kissed her hard and rubbed his damp cheek against hers. ‘Never will I leave you again,’ he said huskily. ‘I love…’ His voice trailed off as his eyes alighted on Philip’s skulking figure heading for the doorway the other end of the room.

  Edmund set Felicia aside and forced the door shut behind him with a shoulder and a backward kick. ‘I looked for you on the battlefield, Meriet, but you were not there,’ he said loudly, striding across the room.

  Philip reached for the door handle but Edmund had caught up with him. He grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and dragged him backwards, arms flailing: then he spun him around before releasing him. Panting, Philip pulled his sword from its scabbard. ‘Why couldn’t you die, bastard?!’

  ‘It wasn’t my aim to please you, Meriet,’ responded Edmond, his eyes on his enemy’s weapon. ‘But I’ll happily see you die. Not only do I have a few scores to settle with you but I have so much more to live for than you. You chose the wrong side to support. The Montfort is defeated and you are a traitor to the throne of England. Your lands are forfeit!’

  Was this true? Felicia trembled with a mixture of fear, hope and excitement. She gazed at Edmund and for an instant she was aware she saw the coolness and sternness that she remembered from their first meeting as he clashed swords with Philip. She took a deep breath and moved stealthily alongside a wall, wanting to be close at hand, in case Edmund should need her help. She did not trust her cousin to fight fair. Her legs felt wobbly and she sank onto a stool, doubting if either man noticed her, so intense was their concentration in this fight to the death. Her husband was the younger man, slighter in figure and experience perhaps, but he was quicker on his feet. She felt her own wrist brace as he turned a stroke and swung aside Philip’s blow, taking himself out of danger.

  A stool went over, and the table was rammed into a corner as Philip once again pressed hard, driving Edmund back. He parried a determined thrust to his chest, twisting Philip’s sword almost out of his grasp, but then with a heave, Philip gained leverage, and it was Edmund who was now on the defensive. Felicia gnawed on her knuckles. The danger passed and Edmund was parrying Philip stroke for stroke. They stepped back to catch their breath, then they circled each other warily.

  Felicia was only vaguely aware of the rain on the roof but its force seemed to be slackening. Blood trickled down Edmund’s cheek, and Philip’s sleeve was darker now. Suddenly her husband slipped in a pool of water and went over. Philip threw aside his sword and took out a dagger; he brought it down towards Edmund’s throat. Felicia sprang to her feet with a horrified scream and reached for the nearest thing to hand. She flung the wine pitcher at Philip’s head. Her aim went wide, but the movement distracted him, so enabling Edmund to heave up, roll over and thrust his blade upwards into Philip’s chest.

  For several moments Felicia could only stare at the two men and then her feet moved of their own volition and she seized hold of her cousin’s clothing and dragged his body away from her husband. There was blood on Edmund’s surcote and for a moment her heart misgave her. Then she realised he was smiling up at her. He grasped hold of her arm and she helped him to stagger to his feet.

  They gazed down at their enemy. ‘I can’t believe it’s over,’ she whispered.

  Edmund lifted her hand to his lips and kissed each finger. ‘It’s just the beginning,’ he said, drawing her into his arms.

  They remained close, kissing and hugging. ‘How did you know where to find me?’ she asked. ‘Did you go to Chipbury and discover your angelic looking friend was still alive?’

  ‘Aye, Steven! Although he will never resemble an angel again,’ said Edmund grimly. ‘He will be scarred for life. He was a fool to be taken in by your cousin. Although he was not the only fool.’ A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he gazed down at his wife.

  Felicia hazarded a guess. ‘You mean Joan mistook Steven, for an angel?’

  ‘Aye, but not only that? She also gave what she believed to be a love potion intended for you to Dickon. Apparently she’s in love with him.’ Edmund raised a tawny eyebrow. ‘Did you have any suspicions of how she felt?’

  ‘A little,’ murmured Felicia. ‘I’ve no notion of how he feels towards her, though.’ Her eyes danced suddenly. ‘You’re not going to tell me the love potion worked?’

  ‘No!’ He grinned. ‘Because it wasn’t a love potion but a sleeping draught. I found them by the river and she was in a state because she thought she had poisoned him. Instead he had simply fallen asleep.’

  Despite knowing it was no matter for jest, Felicia giggled. ‘Poor Joan! I hope she managed to rouse him before the rain came.’

  ‘I hope so, too, and that she was able to get help for Steven.’ He grimaced and then determinedly set Felicia aside. ‘We need to make a move, otherwise it will be dark before we reach Chipbury.’

  ‘What about Philip’s body?’ she asked sombrely.

  He frowned. ‘Leave it to me. You rest and that’s a command, wife.’

  She obeyed him, relieved to leave such grisly matters to her husband. Once that was done, they prepared to leave. Edmund glanced up at the sky. Felicia’s gaze followed his and she took a deep breath of air laden with the sweet scent of rain washed flowers and grass.

  ‘Thinking of your friend, Steven,’ she murmured. ‘He did try to prevent Philip from abducting me.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear you say that. There is much that is good in Steven.’ Edmund kissed her before wrapping her cloak tightly about her and lifting her up on his horse. Then he climbed up behind her and drew her against him.

  She turned her head and gazed up at the attractive contours of his face. The expression in his eyes brought a warmth to her body and her heart sang. ‘I will be forever thankful that you rescued me from Philip’s clutches thrice. And if all goes well with Joan and Dickon, then I will not be the only one to feel that way, my love,’ she said, pressing a kiss on his lips.

  *

  Joan was at her wits’ end. Again and again she had tried to revive Dickon, but to no avail. Assistance could not be expected from Edmund’s friend. Several times she had considered going for help but had been far too worried to leave Dickon, in case a wild beast came along and attacked him. Despairingly she stared up at the threatening sky and, as she did so, the first drops of rain fell on her upturned face. It soon turned into a downpour, and within minutes Dickon’s eyelashes flickered open and he began to stir. He sat up with awkward haste, blinking against the rain.

  ‘Praise the Saints, that
you are awake at last,’ she said breathlessly.

  He tossed back his damp hair, wiping a hand across his wet face. ‘What are we doing here?’

  ‘Don’t you remember?’ asked Joan.

  He scratched his head. ‘I had the strangest dream but now isn’t the time to talk about that.’

  She agreed. ‘D’you think you can walk back to the house?’

  He placed a hand on her shoulder, gazing into her anxious face. ‘Aye, and you can tell me how we came here as we do so.’

  ‘I would rather not,’ she blurted out.

  He frowned. ‘What is it you fear?’

  She clutched her skirts agitatedly. ‘You will despise me, even more than you do now!’ she cried.

  He sighed and rose to his feet. ‘I do not despise you.’

  ‘You don’t!’ She gazed up at him and took the hand he offered to her. ‘Edmund called me a fool,’ she added in a trembling voice. ‘And I am!’

  Dickon’s expression was instantly alert. ‘Edmund was here?’

  ‘Aye, he has gone in search of Flissie.’ She clung to Dickon’s hand. ‘Don’t be angry with me. The angel told him where to find her.’

  ‘You’re telling me that Edmund has been conversing with angels? Well, well, well!’ Dickon grinned and squeezed her hand. ‘There’s hope for us all.’

  ‘He’s not a real angel,’ she said hastily. ‘He just looked fair as an angel, until Philip disfigured him.’ A shudder ran through her. ‘But Edmund recognised him by his voice. His name is Steven!’

  ‘Steven! God’s blood, where did he come from? We haven’t seen him in an age.’ Dickon frowned. ‘You mentioned Philip?’

  ‘Aye, but don’t let’s talk about him!’ she said hastily, avoiding Dickon’s gaze. ‘I should have fetched help for Steven, but I didn’t want to leave you. I feared you’d die.’