The silky siren song from the wagon splintered his thoughts, scattering them in every direction. Summer, battle, skirmishes were lost like smoke in the wind. But his senses could light signal fires on every hill in Alba.
“I’ll be along in a while,” he promised. “I thought I might go down to the river to pray, what with war bearing down upon us.”
The war and another night of torment.
“But …” Her head bobbed up from beneath the tarp Alyn had tied over the wagon to keep the night dampness at bay. “Why not pray here, husband? I fear being alone this night.”
Their Miathi guards had gone. Alyn had forgotten that. And the Frisian couple had long since bedded down by their cart.
“Aye,” he said, checking a heavy sigh. “I’ll stay close, then.”
Though woe to the man who set foot in that wagon bed uninvited. The champion’s daughter slept with sword, dagger, and lance at hand. The notion made Alyn smile. That was his bonnie—
“Alyn!” Kella’s sharp exasperation cut through his musings. She motioned him over to the wagon. “Get in here now.”
“What is the rush?” Alyn couldn’t help his impatience. Kella had no idea how impossible it was to rest when—
“Please.” There was that pout again. But it was more than that. There was an urgency in her eyes, grazed with apprehension, as though she needed reassurance. And who wouldn’t this night?
Heavenly Father. There was no need for Alyn to pray further. God knew the wagon-bed prayers by heart now.
“And you needn’t wear your braccae.”
Misjudging the height of the wagon floor, Alyn cracked his knee soundly against the edge of an unforgiving oak plank. Through the pain and the stars shining overhead, he was certain he’d not heard right. But after what he thought he’d heard, there was no climbing into that bed without embarrassing them both.
“Wh-what do you need?” he asked as if he’d swallowed a fist of gravel. More annoying, confusing, she’d disappeared beneath the tarp. “Where are you?”
When Kella’s head popped out from under the tarp at the end of the wagon where he stood, he stepped back. Her undershift slid off an alabaster shoulder as she rose to her knees. “I need,” she said, reaching across the distance between them, “my husband …” She fisted the material of his shirt and drew him closer. “In my bed …”
Like one of the dreams that made his sleep as unbearable as wakefulness.
“Now.” Kella closed his slack jaw with the tip of her finger. Still, it wasn’t until her lips met his and her fingers crept into the hair at the back of his neck that Alyn finally heard her.
He heard her until his heart threatened to explode, and his breath and hers had become one. He heard the music of the spheres rotating in the heavens, their song of praise ringing in his ears. Yet, when Kella finally drew away with a smile that curled even his toes, he had to ask.
Even if this dream came crashing down about him. “Why now?”
The gaze that met his was bright with an emotion far from the grief that had dominated it so long. “Because life is too short to let love slip through our fingers one more night.”
Kella awoke before dawn, her head resting in the curve of her husband’s arm. Not even the birds stirred. All she heard was Alyn’s soft snoring and the slow, steady beat of his heart. Such a beautiful heart, she thought as memories of the night before slipped into her mind. Not only had he married her, saving her and her child from shame, but he actually loved her. His life pledge to her had not been out of some priestly sense of duty or protection as she’d believed.
Her night with Alyn had been nothing like that stolen moment with Lorne. Lorne’s words of love had not been reflected in his rough haste to satisfy himself. He’d left her in the garden, feeling unfulfilled and clinging desperately to the fading sweetness of his vows.
Alyn turned his words of love into gifts of tenderness and worship that had made Kella all but swoon. And here, in the morning’s aftermath, she felt nothing but a joy and completeness the likes of which she’d never imagined. In all the five languages she knew, there were not enough words to describe how she felt at this moment.
Easing out of the bed so as not to disturb Alyn, Kella tucked her pillow against him. Hopefully he’d sleep a little longer, giving her time to bathe with the lavender soap she saved for special occasions. She might even have time to rinse out her dress and shift before they had to leave. As they traveled north, she could spread it on the wagon tarp to dry in the sun.
Kella intended to be suitably attired when she accompanied her husband to Drust’s court. If Heilyn became his benefactress, he and his family would be well provided for. Though Kella would follow him to the windswept and desolate likes of Iona, as long as she could be at his side.
Who’d have thought a few weeks ago that she could know such happiness? Much less that it would be with a priest and scholar.
Father, Your forgiveness and mercy have overwhelmed me.
Kella gathered the sack of belongings she stowed under the wagon at night to make room for the bed and picked up a bucket for her bath. The river water was way too cold for a swim. Beneath the cloak she drew over her shoulders against the remaining night chill, her knife was tied at the waist of her shift.
Not even the dogs stirred as she made her way to the river. The moon still afforded light on the silver stretch of the Earn as Kella drew water with her bucket and retreated a short distance into the shadow of some trees for privacy. Maybe she’d have time to fix her husband a warm breakfast. There were apples left and—
A large hand clamped over her mouth, nearly sealing off the air to her nose as well. “I’ve got ye this time, missy.”
The man with the limp?
Kella tried to think, but body and mind froze at the press of a cold blade to her neck. Its promise of death was so certain that time slowed. Memories filled her mind. She saw her sleeping husband, mourned the time they’d lost, cherished the night they had shared. And she cursed herself for choosing vanity over Alyn’s warning not to leave the campsite alone.
“’Tis your head, or the cap’n’ll have mi—”
The bucket of water slipped from her hand.
Her assailant grunted.
Cold river water drenched Kella’s feet, shocking her out of the calm acceptance of her fate. As the blade jerked away from her flesh, she bit the loosened fingers over her mouth, kicked backward with all her might. The man erupted in a stream of curses as she spun out of his grasp. When she faced the tall, dark, shadowy figure again, she’d tossed aside her cloak, her knife at the ready.
“Alyn!” The lavender-bent bride in her shrieked, but it was the champion’s daughter who hurled the blade as her assailant charged her.
It didn’t stop the big man. He barreled into her, dragging her to the ground. Her head hit hard. A tree root? A stone? Regardless, the umbrella of the trees, dark against the paling sky, turned a bright white. Her assailant’s weight atop her crushed the remaining breath from her lungs.
Torn between a world of pain and numbing light, Kella shoved the man to the side as she dragged in fresh air, fodder to fight. Fight for the life within her and the one that lay ahead. Now that she knew what love was, she was not about to let it slip away. If only her head would stay in one world or the other.
“Come, milady. You’re safe now.”
A friendly voice. Not Alyn’s. Kella tried to focus on the apparition before her. One … two heads against the moon-dappled branches overhead? A wave of nausea rose at the back of Kella’s throat as they separated. Two men tried to help her up.
If they did, surely her head would explode. “N-no …”
“We mean you no harm,” one of them said, though the words echoed as if in a duet.
Good. “Call my …” Husband became thought only.
“We must move her quickly, brother.”
“Get her feet. We’ll move her into the boat.”
Were her feet elsewhere from her body
? Kella couldn’t tell. Couldn’t make out who her rescuers were. And why move her to a boat?
“Wh …” The question wouldn’t form on her tongue. It floated somewhere in her mind as the men picked her up and carried her through the rushes. Kella felt the cut of the sharp blades on her arms. “No …” The jostling alone was going to make her sick.
“I swear it,” she shouted at them. That is, she meant to.
“Mary, mother of God!” one of the men hissed in surprise. “The coble’s sunk!”
“What?” The man holding her under the arms nearly dropped her. Agony jarred her head till the confusion went white.
Yet not even that remote place was immune to the ungodly howl that erupted nearby, as if a demon from Hades had come up out of the water after them all. Frigid, moving river water suddenly swallowed her. River, rushes, pounding drums of pain, and shouts for God’s help—Kella scrambled through them all in an attempt to return to Alyn. The two men who’d dropped her unceremoniously into the water slogged through the mud to escape the scrawny, gnarled demon dancing on the shore.
“Ha, ha, hee, hee, I knew I smelt trouble!”
Kella knew it. Or, rather, him.
She flailed about in the water in an attempt to get up, striking her hand on the edge of the sunken boat. Using it for leverage, she gained her footing on the river bottom. The dawn’s cool air penetrated her soaked shift and skin to her very bones. There was no sense to be made of the mad commotion several feet beyond her on the banks. Men. Struggling with other men.
But the wasplike figure waded in toward her. “Ye’re a headstrong ’un, little wife, but ye got spirit.”
“Idwyr.” The name was relief upon Kella’s lips.
Like his gnarled staff, Idwyr was surprisingly strong as he lent his support to wade out of the shallows. “Too much for yer own good.”
Once ashore, the old man fetched her cloak. She stepped into its woolen warmth, grateful for it and the friend who delivered it. “Thank you, dear friend.”
“Kella!”
Alyn. She knew her husband, though she could not see the face of the man coming at them in a hard run.
“Slow down, priest, or all of us’ll have ta dry out,” Idwyr warned.
Alyn stopped short, seizing her by the shoulders. “Kella, what happened?”
Truly, she wasn’t certain. There was the man with the knife at her throat, then the other men with their sunken boat … and dear little Idwyr. What Kella did know was that she’d nearly died because she’d ignored her husband’s caution.
“I bumped my head,” she mumbled, her knees buckling with relief. It was over.
Whatever it was.
“I only wanted to look and smell beautiful for you.” Kella buried her face against the bare-skinned warmth of Alyn’s chest where nothing could harm her. Where only love lived.
Chapter Twenty-three
“I warned you, don’t leave the campsite alone!”
Alyn paced back and forth along the side of the wagon bed where Brisen tended Kella. He was furious at Kella for leaving without bothering to wake him. Furious at himself for not even noticing his wife was gone until he’d heard her scream his name. He’d barely collected his wits enough to wrap his plaid about his naked body before bounding from the wagon, only to realize he had no idea where her call had come from. He still could feel the sickening panic that had run him through as he searched the dark for any sign of movement.
“You are not invincible! I don’t care if you did put a dagger in the blackguard’s heart.”
“I know,” Kella replied. Her uncharacteristic meekness caused Alyn even more concern than the nasty lump on the back of her head that Brisen gently examined.
’Twas Idwyr’s banshee howl that drew Alyn to the river as fast as his bare feet would carry him. And woke up everyone, including the dead in the mound on the yon side of the river.
“From now on, you,” he stopped pacing and jabbed his finger at her, “go nowhere without me. Nowhere!”
The faint cut of an assassin’s blade on her shoulder showed just how close he’d come to losing her. Faith, Alyn still shook. So did she, even though she’d donned her old hunting shirt and trousers after the abrupt dunking in the river shallows.
“I won’t.”
Unassuaged, Alyn turned his vent on Idwyr, who stood next to Egan, awaiting Brisen’s verdict as to whether Kella should travel. “And where were you when he nearly cut her throat?”
“Follerin’ them two.” The wizard nodded to where the remainder of his Miathi escort guarded the men who’d tried to abduct Kella until Crief’s own guard arrived. The knaves were priests, of all things, and poorly disguised once their caps were removed to reveal the Roman tonsure. “I seen ’em pokin’ about the wagon after my men left for Dumyat. Me ’n’ them,” he said, nodding at his two Miathi companions, “is all that stayed.”
“Why didn’t you go with the rest of your men?” Alyn asked more gently.
Idwyr cackled. “I told ye, I smelt trouble. Caught these two snoopin’ ’round yer things soon as me men rode off. Fell right into me trap, they did. We tailed ’em till they come back this mornin’. But the scoundrel who tried to cut her throat took us all by surprise. Not even Jesus saw ’im!”
God, forgive him. Idwyr at least recognized the presence of the Holy Spirit. Maybe God had used a half-crazed wizard to spare Kella. Maybe all this madness was part of some master plan, but all Alyn could fathom right now was that he’d almost lost her.
Yet he hadn’t. Because the Lord was watching over her.
“Jesus saw the villain, Idwyr,” Alyn told the old man. “He sees everything, even the tiniest sparrow when it falls.” The Word added to the peace Alyn gathered from the Spirit. “And He gave Kella the presence of mind to fight sensibly.”
“A bird?” The way Idwyr’s wrinkles gathered spelled doubt, at least about the sparrow.
“You did the rest, my friend.” Alyn extended his hand. “For that I thank you, Idwyr. And I thank God for blessing you with that nose for trouble.”
Idwyr’s snaggletoothed grin scattered the skepticism. “Always your friend, Merlin. Ye know that.”
Alyn held his tongue, not about to get into that discussion now.
“I think someone’s head will be sore for a bit,” Brisen announced, “but some oak bark tea will see her fit for travel. Though I can’t vouch for how safe she’ll be.”
Egan stepped up, patting the sword at his waist. “She’ll be safe. Don’t ye worry yer pretty head aboot that.”
“I shan’t,” Brisen promised with a wink. She patted Kella’s hand. “You rest, dearie. The tea should be ready by now.”
Alyn moved to the edge of the wagon bed, taking a seat next to his wife. His best weapon here was a calm, clear head to find the facts. “Did you know the man who tried to kill you?”
“I wasn’t thinking, Alyn. I’d forgotten about him—the man who’d tried to force me into the wood the other night. All I could think of was you and—” She glanced to where Egan and Idwyr listened, her head dipping with blushing shyness. “You know.”
Aye, he did. Now he began to see the merit in celibacy, for when she smiled like that, even the most pious of minds became a muddle. ’Twas no wonder the ancient Levites practiced abstinence from their marriage bed when they actively taught and served at the temple. Certainly Alyn’s wits wouldn’t have been dulled to a sleep so deep that his wife had left him without his knowledge. Before last night, he could have heard a gnat sneeze from the next campsite.
“All I could think about was using my special soap against the dirt and stench of the road, so that when I sat next to you, I’d remind you of a field of lavender in bloom.”
“I’d rather you smell like a pig than lose you.”
Alyn didn’t need Egan’s outright snort or Idwyr’s tutting noise to know he’d misspoken. The fire beneath his collar was sufficient.
But instead of taking offense, Kella leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.
“You do have a way with words.”
Alyn strove to recover his chain of thought. “So your villain was the same—”
Kella’s expression lit up. “He said it was my head or his.” She pondered a moment. “Something about the captain having his head if he failed.”
At her shudder, Alyn sheltered her beneath his arm. “He’s dead, Kella.”
She grew silent, her face troubled, as though she relived the struggle again. “It was him or me,” she concluded simply. “Just like the men who attacked us on the way to Glenarden. Had we not killed them, they surely would have killed us.”
“Someone tried to kill ye before?” Egan queried.
“There’s somethin’ worryin’ someone about reachin’ Fortygall,” Idwyr chanted at the sky. “Somethin’ in that wagon, or someone.” He shifted sharp eyes from Alyn to Kella, his bush of a brow lifting. “Am I right?”
“Aye, most likely. We just need to find out which.” Alyn slid off the edge of the wagon. “Let’s see if our prisoners are ready for confession.” If Egan and Idwyr were committed to protecting Alyn and his wife, he might as well find out why this had happened.
“Alyn,” Kella called after him.
“Aye?”
She hopped to the ground and caught up with him. “Let’s see if our dead man has a wound in his thigh.”
Kella braced herself to view the body of the man she’d killed. The man who would have killed her, she reminded herself. Alyn cut away the dead man’s trouser leg to reveal what Kella suspected might be there. A barely healed wound from the lance that had saved Alyn’s life and sent the villain running away, yelping and limping like a three-legged hound. Now she knew what she saw in his eyes when he’d tried to force her away from the crowd. Vengeance.
So this man—Kella tried to study his face, but death had frozen a sinister snarl on his lips that still chilled her—so this man had been working for someone with military rank? A ship’s captain?
It made no sense. Who would want to kill her, for undoubtedly that was what the blackguard had on his mind?
At least the motive of the Brothers Ennis and Laol was more transparent. Once Kella looked past the new growth of their beards and the shabby peasant garb they wore, she recognized them as part of the black-robed flock that followed Cassian around.
Rebel Page 21
