by Amy Tolnitch
For the first time since she’d left Falcon’s Craig, her fears and anger at her circumstance drained away. Despite Padruig’s obvious skill with his sword, or perhaps because of it, she felt safe here. She gulped a swallow of wine, remembering her contemptuous words to Piers after witnessing his sword training. How do you think we protect what is ours? he had asked. She now understood far better than she ever wanted to what he meant.
After a bit, Padruig clomped back across the floor and thrust a bowl and spoon at her.
She peered into the bowl and breathed in the scent of spices.
“ ’Tis stew, with bits of venison.” He took the other chair and began to eat.
Meat, she thought as her stomach rumbled. She gazed at Padruig, who calmly spooned the concoction into his mouth. “Eat,” he said.
She took a spoonful, chewing slowly. Her eyes opened wide. Perhaps it was in part due to her hunger, but the stew was very tasty. I am not in a position to refuse food, even if I would never have been permitted to eat it at Kerwick Abbey, she told herself.
In her mind, she heard Father Michael. You are not in the nunnery anymore. You need not follow their strictures. She settled down and proceeded to eat, enjoying the stew more than she had anything else in a very long time.
Padruig finished, set aside his bowl and picked up a cup. “What was a girl like you doing in the forest alone?” he asked.
A piece of venison stuck in her throat and she swallowed some wine. “ ’Tis a long story, I fear.”
He leaned back and crossed his arms with a faint smile. “I have the time to listen.”
The smile transformed his face. Though the scars remained clearly visible, Giselle could see that at one time he must have been a fine-looking man, with his broad shoulders, clear blue eyes, and pale hair. Giselle sensed she could trust him.
She took a last bite of her stew and set it aside, sucking in a deep breath. “I am not sure how to begin.”
“I daresay ’Tis best to begin at the beginning, lass.”
Even his voice was oddly comforting, like a smooth, accented rumble. “I spent most of my life within Kerwick Abbey, studying to become a nun.”
He lifted a brow. “A pretty young lass like you, a nun?”
“ ’Tis what I have always wanted.”
“Is it, now?”
“Aye.” She dropped her gaze. “It is what I know, my lord.” “Just Padruig. Why did you leave?”
She lifted her head and stared at him. What would he do if she told him? she wondered. Scowl at her in revulsion just before he tossed her out of his home into the cold? No, she thought as she gazed into his eyes. Not this man. Something told her he had seen too much to be shocked with her tale.
“Lass?” He leaned forward. “Why did you leave the abbey?”
She sighed and picked up her cup of wine. “They threw me out. I … sometimes, I can see things. Things that haven’t happened yet.”
He slowly nodded. “You have the sight.”
“Aye. When I tried to warn one of the sisters to take more care with her food, she ignored me and ended up choking so badly she could barely draw a breath. They blamed me for it. They all blamed me.”
For a moment, he was silent, then said, “Kerwick Abbey is a fair distance from here.”
Giselle took a strengthening sip of wine. “The Bishop had me escorted to Falcon’s Craig Castle, where I discovered that long ago my mother had arranged for me to marry the earl’s brother.” Her mouth turned down.
“I see.” Padruig fixed her with a curious gaze. “ ‘Twould seem to be a good solution, lass. Falcon’s Craig is a fine holding. And I have heard the earl is a fair man.”
“Perhaps so, but I …” She flushed and ducked her head. “I do not wish to marry. I wish …” He chuckled. “You are afraid to lie with a man.”
Her face warmed further and she nodded jerkily. “Terrified,” she whispered, scarcely believing she was confessing to a virtual stranger. A strange man with whom she was presently alone.
When he reached out and patted her leg, she jumped. “It can be a wondrous thing, lass.”
She eyed him doubtfully. “The earl’s brother does not want me. He is not the type of man to cleave to one woman.”
“He refuses to marry you?”
“Nay but …”
His face sobered. “What else shall you do? You are a gently born girl, ’Tis obvious.”
“I have skills,” she said, remembering Lady Amice’s comment.
“You think to work a trade?”
“The abbey earned much coin from my tapestries. I thought to offer my skills to another nunnery to take me in.”
“How would you explain your past?” he asked gently.
“I would make up a story.” Her shoulders slumped. “I am not a very good liar, I fear.”
“ ’Tis a hard thing to live a lie, lass.”
Something in his tone made her gaze at him more closely. “How did you come to live here?”
His face closed and he shook his head. “We are speaking of you.”
She bit her lip and cast about for an idea. “Perhaps if I went to a town and offered my services to a tradesman.”
“Giselle, you cannot simply set off across the countryside in the hopes of finding a hospitable town and a tradesman willing to take you in. You have seen what can happen to a woman traveling alone.”
“Perhaps, you could escort me? I have nothing to offer you, but I vow I would find a way to repay you.”
He stood and picked up his bowl. “I cannot,” he said slowly.
Her spirits plummeted and she fought the sting of tears. “What shall I do?”
“If the young lord is that reluctant to marry, perhaps he will see you settled elsewhere.”
“He threatened to send me to another estate.”
“Would that be such a bad thing?”
She shrugged helplessly. “I no longer know, it seems. The life I thought I had has been stripped from me. I know not what to do.”
He rested a heavy hand on her shoulder. “You need not figure that out this eve. The day has been an eventful one. Take your sleep and we shall discuss this in the morning.”
A tear leaked out of her eye. “Thank you.”
“Up the steps is the bedchamber.”
For a moment, Giselle froze. Surely he did not mean …?
“You may sleep there. I shall stay down here by the fire.” “Oh.” She gazed up at him. “You need not give up your bed. I shall be fine here.” She was so exhausted she could sleep on frozen ground if that was all that was to be had.
“I am not such a selfish knave as that, lass. Take the bedchamber.”
She rose stiffly to her feet, amazed once more at how he dwarfed her. “I do not know how to thank you.”
“ ’Tis no need.” He gathered up their bowls and walked to the kitchen.
As Giselle made her way up the steps, she paused and turned. “Good night.”
“Sleep well, lass. Everything will appear clearer in the morn.”
She wanted to believe him, but could not see how anything would ever appear clear again. As she snuggled into a soft bed piled with blankets and furs, she pondered what to do. Weariness crept over her and she blinked, striving to keep her eyes open.
Perhaps Padruig was right, she thought with a spark of hope. Piers was clearly anxious to get rid of her. Surely, he could be persuaded to provide an escort to a nearby town and enough coin for her to survive while she found a place to ply her craft. He would be free to resume the life he enjoyed, and she … She sighed. Dear Lord, what am I to do? It is as if your house is closed to me. What is your will?
The only sound was the wind rattling a shutter overhead. Despite Milo’s talents, Piers could find no trace of Giselle. It was as if the girl had sprouted wings and simply flown away.
He reined in his horse several leagues from Falcon’s Craig and gazed around him at the empty countryside. Gifford pulled up next to him.
“ ‘Twill
be dark soon,” Gifford said, his usually affable face drawn into lines of concern.
“Milo,” Piers called.
The boy rode up and shook his head. “I am sorry, my lord. I truly thought she headed in this direction, but I must have been mistaken.”
Where could the girl be? Piers wondered. Perhaps she found a traveler willing to take her along, he thought. She could be anywhere by now.
“We should return to Falcon’s Craig,” his uncle advised. “We can search for Giselle again at first light.”
Even though his head ached, and his legs were stiff from hours of riding, Piers was hesitant to abandon the search. What if Giselle was lost? She’d taken very little with her, according to Olive.
“Piers,” Gifford said. “We cannot find the girl in the dark.”
Piers took a last look around them and reluctantly nodded. “Very well. We go back.” As they rode, he found himself silently uttering a prayer that Giselle’s beloved God was taking care of her.
Heaven knew, she was completely incapable of doing so herself.
He surely did not want to marry her, but at the same time her complete discontent over the idea rankled. What did you expect? his inner voice asked. That she would take one look at your handsome face and forget fourteen years of training at Kerwick Abbey? With not a small bit of chagrin, he realized a part of him had thought exactly that.
Arrogant simpkin, he chided himself.
Guilt bore down on him like a solid boulder wedged onto his shoulders. He should never have said the things he’d said to her. No wonder she’d panicked and fled.
Damn you, Eikki, he thought.
For once the being remained silent. Perhaps even he realized they’d driven an innocent girl into peril.
Giselle awoke to the sounds of birds shrilling their greetings, with a faint morning sun spilling in through the cracks overhead to light her chamber. The bed was so comfortable she was loath to leave, tempted to crawl beneath the warm covers and remain.
Sounds from below reminded her this was not her home, not her bedchamber, only a temporary refuge thanks to the generous kindness of a stranger.
She got up and stretched, unsurprised to find her limbs still ached from the day before. She smoothed her bliaut as best she could and headed down the steps.
“Good morn, my lady,” Padruig said as he fed bits of meat to a large, gray animal with patches of white on its chest.
Giselle paused at the bottom of the steps. “What is that?”
The animal cocked its head toward her voice, and Giselle inched back up a step.
“His name is Cai,” Padruig said.
“Is that a … dog?”
Padruig stood and ruffled the beast’s fur. “Nay. Cai would be offended to be called such. He is a gray wolf.”
A wolf. Giselle backed up another step. Guinevere was one thing, but a wolf? Dear Lord, what if the thing attacked?
Cai yawned, revealing a truly impressive array of sharp teeth.
“Come and break your fast,” Padruig told her, gesturing toward the table, where a platter of bread and cheese sat next to a jug and two cups.
“I—” Her eyes widened as the wolf trotted over to her. She shrieked and fell back onto the steps. The wolf just stared at her as if he was wondering what was wrong with her.
Padruig chuckled. “He wilnae hurt you lass.”
“Are … are you sure?” She gazed into the wolf’s round eyes and tried to stamp down her fear. “Yes. Cai has been with me for a long time.”
Giselle gathered her courage and stood. The wolf followed her to the table. When she gratefully sat on a stool, he sat on the floor beside her, looking up. “What does he want?”
Padruig took another stool. “Food, as always.”
She cut off a chunk of cheese and dropped it. The wolf snapped it up in one bite and moved closer to her stool. Fighting the urge to moan in sheer panic, she pointed at the jug. “May I have something to drink?”
“Of course.” Padruig poured her a cup and slid it across the table.
Giselle took a deep drink of wine, ignoring her inner voice that whispered perhaps she was becoming a bit too fond of the drink. “ ’Tis an unusual pet.”
Padruig munched on a piece of bread. “Aye.” He gazed at her, and Giselle sensed what he was about to say. Her appetite fled. “I have given much thought to your situation, lass.”
“As have I,” she murmured, sipping wine.
“I do not see any option but to return you to Falcon’s Craig.”
Her stomach clenched.
“If the life of a nun is closed to you, then you have no choice but to take a husband. The earl’s brother may not be the kind of man you might have chosen, but,” he shrugged and took a drink, “you will no doubt be well cared for at Falcon’s Craig.”
Giselle stared down at the table, feeling as if the unbreakable strands of a rope net closed around her. “I know you are right, but …” She buried her face in her hands. Padruig was right, of course. And Piers was a young, exceedingly handsome man, with family and wealth. At times he’d shown her kindness. The Bishop could have delivered her to far worse. Still, the scrap of independence she’d never been able to completely quash wailed in resentment that she had no choice in the matter.
“I shall see you to Falcon’s Craig this morn.”
She lifted her gaze to his, and the sympathy in his eyes nearly broke her resolve not to crumble into tears.
“Eat, lass. ’Tis likely your betrothed is already searching for you.”
“I doubt that.” She grimaced and sipped more wine. “More likely, he is celebrating being rid of me with a woman in his bed.”
Padruig grinned. “Well, if he is as you say, at least you will gain a husband experienced in such matters.”
Giselle wrinkled her nose. “I would prefer he were well-versed in prayer.”
“You’ll not find that outside a monastery.”
“Nay, I suppose not.”
“I shall ready the horses. Eat something, lass. We have a bit of a ways to travel.”
Giselle gave him a glum look as he left the cottage. She jerked when Cai put his head in her lap. Dear Lord, she felt so numb, she could not even be afraid of the fact that a wolf who undoubtedly outweighed her was presently resting his shaggy head on her in the hopes of catching a morsel of food. She tried to eat a piece of bread, but it tasted like sawdust in her mouth and she gave up, giving the rest to Cai, who happily lay down and ate it.
Back to Falcon’s Craig, she thought with an inward shudder. But, back to what?
Chapter
VI
The moment Piers walked into the misty clearing the next morn, his gut clenched in dread. Four bodies lay in a bloody heap on the ground. There was no sign of Giselle.
“Dear Lord,” Gifford cried as he dismounted.
Piers turned one of the roughly dressed bodies over with his boot. He didn’t recognize the man. He gazed at the other bodies and fear curled in his gut. “Cut down by a sword, each one,” he told Gifford. “It doesn’t look as if there was much of a fight.”
“My lord,” one of the guards called out.
“Aye?” He turned.
Rauf held a piece of white fabric in his hand. The edges fluttered in the slight breeze.
Piers walked to where Rauf stood and held out his hand. He took the material and studied it in growing dread. “This is a piece of a wimple.”
Gifford peered over his shoulder and gasped. “There is blood on it.”
Piers looked down. The grass was crushed and scraped away in spots. His blood chilled. What had befallen Giselle, if, in fact, she had been here? He cringed with guilt at the fear the men had ravaged her. Or that someone else had taken her. Do not think about that now, he told himself. Just find the girl. “Milo?” he called.
The boy scampered over. “Aye, my lord?”
“Have you found anything?”
Milo nodded quickly, his eyes beaming. He held out a scrap of blue wool. �
��I found this snagged on a branch.”
“Show me where.” Piers followed the boy to an area beyond the clearing, hope and dread roiling in his belly.
Milo pointed toward the ground, but Piers couldn’t see anything.
“What is it?”
“The horses went this way.”
Piers still couldn’t see any sign, but he had no choice except to trust the boy. “Lead on, Milo.” He mounted, and the troop followed Milo into the woods. “Can you tell how many horses trod this way?”
Milo was bent over double studying the ground. “More than two.”
“How many riders?”
The boy shook his head. “The tracks are too faint to tell.”
In silence they followed Milo as he led them through the woods. Even Gifford refrained from comment, as if he shared Piers’s concern over where the trail would lead.
Milo stopped and dropped to his knees, craning his head around, sifting leaves through his fingers. He frowned. “They veered off here.”
“Which way?”
The boy sniffed a handful of leaves. Guinevere joined him, wagging her tail as if it were a game. Suddenly, she lifted her head, barked, and took off through the woods.
Piers stared after her, wondering.
“No doubt caught the scent of a hare,” Gifford said.
“Perhaps.” They heard more barking in the distance.
Milo put his ear to the ground and slowly nodded. “Horses approach, my lord.”
Piers drew his sword and the guards followed suit. Even Gifford managed to get his sword out of the scabbard without injuring himself. The guards moved out into the trees, circling Piers, Gifford, and Milo.
Guinevere’s barking grew closer. Piers peered through the mist and saw the vague outline of a horse and rider. As they neared, he saw it was a man atop an immense black horse. Another shape traveled behind him, but Piers could not make it out. “Be ready, men,” he ordered.
The moment Giselle spotted Guinevere, she realized Padruig’s prediction had been accurate. The realization that someone cared enough to search for her held no comfort. It only made the fact she was returning to Falcon’s Craig and a frightening future all the more real.
