by June Francis
After a while it grew so dark that Louise could not see the trail but it did not matter because she knew where she was going. Soon the moon would be up and on such a clear night would provide some light. Her leg muscles were aching unbearably now and her heel was so sore that she gritted her teeth with every step taken. She began to wonder if her physical strength would give out before she reached her destination.
Still she kept on until at last the trees thinned and she came to a group of crude dwellings of turf and timber. Several fires could be seen and voices heard. Men and a few children huddled near the fires while the women busied themselves with the cooking.
Louise watched a moment, her eyes searching, before making her way round the backs of the hovels until she came to one set a little apart from the others. She listened a moment and then slid round the side and down through the opening into the single chamber scooped out of the ground.
A hunched figure looked up quickly. ‘Who’s there?’ she said hoarsely.
‘It is I, Louise Saulnier,’ whispered the younger woman. ‘I come for information, Madame Marie.’
‘Louise, it is really you?’ Her hand reached out through the dark and Louise crawled achingly towards her and submitted her face to the woman’s searching fingers. Marie made a satisfied noise in her throat. ‘Why have you come back?’ Her hands dropped and her fingers found her spoon again. ‘You have found your sister?’
‘No. But I suspect that an Englishman who can help me in my search could be here.’
‘An Englishman?’ The spoon paused halfway to Marie’s mouth. ‘Now what do you know about the Englishman?’
‘Then there is one here?’ There was a hint of dubious excitement in Louise’s voice.
‘Ay. Matilde tells me that he has hair as black as the devil’s soul and eyes as blue as the reflection of a summer sky in the river.’
A long breath escaped Louise and she sat back on her heels. ‘It is Master Milburn, and I must know where they have put him and what Pierre plans to do to him.’
There was a brief hush and then Marie said, ‘The Englishman is no longer here in the settlement.’
Louise’s heart seemed to miss a beat. ‘He is not already dead? I did not think that Pierre would kill him so swiftly!’
Marie muttered to herself and rocked backwards and forwards. ‘Not dead — not yet.’
‘Do you know where Pierre has taken him — what he plans to do to him?’
‘He has not asked me for any poisonous brew this time, only an amulet and an incantation to ward off evil spirits.’
A chill flashed down Louise’s spine but she concealed her sudden fear. ‘Then you must know what he plans?’ she insisted.
‘Wolves.’
‘Wolves?’ Louise experienced the icy trickle of fear again. ‘What of wolves?’
‘The Englishman has been taken and staked out for the wolves’ feasting. Already there is blood on him. They will smell it and come.’
‘Where?’ Her hand tightened on her stick.
Marie turned her almost sightless eyes on her. ‘You should not go. It is haunted.’
The chilling fear spread. ‘For Marguerite’s sake tell me quickly!’ said Louise in a frantic whisper.
‘In the circle.’ The old woman’s voice was weary.
‘May the mother of God bless you!’ Louise kissed her hastily and dragged herself up and out into the frosty air.
She waited until she was out of sight of the dwellings and beyond the light of the fires before pulling off the boots and running. The moon was up, enabling her to see any obstacles in her path, although it cast shadows in places and twice she tripped over her cloak and fell.
Her hope was that Pierre would have already left the stone circle after the staking out. He was as fearful of the souls of the dead as any of them in the settlement.
By the time most of the trees were cleared and the hill was in sight she was gulping for breath and there was a stitch in her side. Then she saw Pierre and two other men coming out from between the stones and instantly she dropped to the ground and rolled into a patch of shadow. As she lay with her face buried in her arms, a wolf bayed. Sweet Jesu! The words were thought rather than whispered, a whisper carrying on such a night. She stayed perfectly still.
It seemed a long time between the next howl and the barely audible tread of the three men. She had guessed that they would not stay in the vicinity long in case the wolves caught their scent. In the morning they would return to see the results of their night’s work.
Waiting for the men to get further away was difficult, knowing that she would have to act soon and swiftly. At last she could hear nothing and, getting to her feet, she ran desperately up the hill. She came to a halt outside the circle where pagan rites of sacrifice had once been performed. Her fear was like an iron hand about her heart. Slowly stepping round one of the standing stones, she crossed herself and sent up a quick prayer. Then she saw Master Milburn, completely naked, stretched out on the ground.
She drew a quick breath and stopped abruptly. Slowly his head lifted, and for several seconds they looked at each other. Then he groaned and his head dropped back.
A series of howls sounding on the air galvanised her into action, and as she crossed the grass her fingers were loosening the brooch that fastened the cloak, so that when he lay at her feet she was able to swirl it down over his nakedness.
As she knelt on the grass to inspect the leather strips that tied his wrists and ankles to stakes in the ground, his eyelids fluttered open. ‘Mam’selle, how do you come to be here?’ he muttered.
She stilled, taken by surprise. Then, ‘Quiet,’ she said in a low voice, darting a glance at his bloodied face. His head moved slightly as if in acknowledgement and his eyelids drooped.
As her fingers worked to loosen the knots they brushed his cold skin, and she wondered if he might die despite all her efforts, and anxiety replaced her embarrassment, and fear of wolves and spirits.
It took Louise some time to free him and she broke several nails. His wrists and ankles were chafed and as bloodied as his face when at last she sat back on her heels, but he still lay motionless on the ground. She lifted one of his hands and rubbed it. ‘Master Milburn, you must get up. We have to get out of this place.’ He made no answer. ‘Master Milburn,’ she repeated urgently, dropping his hand and seizing his shoulders. ‘Master Milburn!’ She shook him hard. ‘You must wake.’ A low groan issued from his lips and his eyelashes flickered but did not open. ‘Master Milburn! John! The wolves are coming and we must go!’
Slowly, as if it needed a tremendous effort, his eyelids opened. ‘Help me — get up.’ The words were barely audible, but they were enough to spur Louise on. She got an arm beneath his naked back, noting as she did so the cuts and abrasions on his shoulders and upper arms. Managing to lift him into a sitting position, she dragged the cloak under his armpits and pulled it right round him. Then, rising a little on to one knee, she lifted his arm about her neck and heaved.
He came up gradually, his feet scrabbling for a hold on the frost-covered grass — until at last, heavily leaning upon her, he stood. ‘Good,’ she gasped. ‘Now with more effort we might get out of here.’
He nodded painfully. ‘But — to where?’
‘Up a tree?’
A noise that sounded like an attempt at a laugh barely stirred the chill air and she looked sidelong at the cut and swollen face so near hers. ‘You don’t have to walk far to reach the trees,’ said Louise. ‘It’s our only chance! Besides, moving will warm you up.’
‘True.’ He lifted his cut cheek from her head. ‘Later, I will ask questions as to how you got here,’ he said jerkily, with a glimmer of a smile.
‘Walk,’ she said severely, ‘and don’t trip over the cloak.’
‘Or drop it,’ he murmured. ‘I would not embarrass you further, mam’selle.’ Louise made no response to that remark but a swift glance showed that he had a fold of the cloak wrapped about one hand against his chest.
It did not take so very long to reach the trees. Then she saw the glimmer of amber eyes in the gloom a short distance away and her heart seemed to leap into her throat with fright.
John had seen them too, so there was no need for her to mutter ‘haste’. Besides, his blood had begun to circulate the swifter, warming his body and easing the stiffness in his limbs. He removed her arm from about his shoulder and pushed her towards the nearest large-branching tree. She needed no urging and despite sore feet she climbed swiftly and with agility as high as was necessary. He followed more slowly and painfully, and his feet caught in the cloak a couple of times. At last he eased himself up on a thick branch near the main trunk opposite and a little below the one she stood on.
They were not a moment too soon, as several wolves loped on to ground which they had trodden not many minutes ago. They snuffled in the grass, and a couple jostled to lick at a dark stain. One, with its nose to the ground, followed the trail out through the trees, up the hill and into the stone circle. The others wandered about, yelping, until one found its way to their tree.
Louise, peering down through the bare branches, saw the wolf place its front paws on the tree trunk and snuffle and lick before beginning to bark. She jumped and clutched at a branch. John, who had been resting his head against the trunk on the other side, opened his eyes. He was able to make out her face. ‘Come closer,’ he breathed.
‘I can’t,’ she whispered, afraid to let go of the branch or move in case she fell. John carefully reached up and round the trunk. The wolf continued to bark and was joined by another. She began to tremble and her cold hands to lose their grip. Then John’s arms went about her waist and his fingers hooked on to her belt.
‘I have hold of you,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘You can let go.’
With difficulty he managed to ease them both on to his branch and she sagged against him. Her head sank on to his bare shoulder and for several minutes neither of them moved or spoke. Then she shifted her head and her cheek felt the chill on his skin. ‘How cold you are,’ she stammered.
‘And you,’ he said unsteadily.
‘Not as much as you.’ She flushed even as she spoke, remembering the sight of him in the circle. ‘If the wolves do not get us, then the cold will surely finish us off.’
‘We can try and keep each other warm,’ muttered John, slackening the grip he had on the cloak. He eased it free of constriction and Louise was forced to sit upright. Her heart steadily increased its beat, for although she did not look at him directly she was aware of him lifting the garment high above his shoulders so that it hooded his head, and enfolded her as well.
Neither of them spoke as they shuffled closer. His arm round her shoulders held her tightly. Closing her eyes seemed to make inching her arm around his waist easier. She was conscious of broken skin on his back. He winced as her fingers gently explored the extent of his wounds but he made no complaint. Where he was not hurt but only cold she rubbed him, and his body felt warmer to her touch. Her other hand roamed over his chest, fingered and pulled at nipples there, wondering why men had them when they did not feed babies. He trembled and she wondered if he liked being touched there just as she had last night. Was it only last night? Her fingers stilled in an awful awareness of what she doing. Then he took her hand and placed it on the chilled skin of his hip. She rubbed vigorously down to the curve of his damp buttocks. How long and hard were the muscles there.
Her mind opened on the picture of him naked and her hand stilled again. Her cheek rested against his bare chest and she could hear the increased heavy thud of his heart.
She jumped when his fingers touched her throat just as they had last night and she lifted her head. His cool lips found hers unerringly in the warm damp darkness beneath the cloak. His mouth moved almost hungrily over hers, rousing within her overwhelming uncomprehensible desires. He loosened her buttons and tore her shirt open. Her pulses raced crazily as his chest brushed her breasts, rubbed against them slowly before they were squashed as he brought her hard against him.
His tongue forced her lips apart and entered her mouth, teasing her tongue, sending thrills through her. She had never experienced anything quite like it — had warded Pierre off with a knife when he had ventured to touch her thigh. This man seemed to be demanding the very essence of her being and in that moment she could not have denied him. All thought of his being an enemy was forgotten as was the sinfulness of what they were doing. They could die this night and she needed and wanted him.
His fingertips rubbed her breast, caressing her nipple, pulling at it, and then he lowered his mouth and suckled it. A moan of pleasure escaped her, and her hand, which had stilled, restarted its stroking, warming his chill loins and tentatively, curiously, running her fingers up the source of his masculinity. It grew beneath her touch and he groaned and, taking her hand, he placed her fingers firmly round it and whispered encouragement as she caressed it. Then he reached inside her hose and stroked her belly, reaching lower and lower, and exploring inside her secret place, rousing her to a fever pitch of enjoyment and a need for his deeper exploration.
His lips found hers again and their kisses were as feverish as their actions. They swayed perilously on the branch, heedless of their danger — from falling or the wolves — as they pleasured each other. Caught up in each other’s arms they overbalanced and crashed through the branches to the ground.
CHAPTER FOUR
LOUISE, more than a little dazed at being brought down to earth so abruptly, struggled to rise even as John did, and they both came up together, entangled in the cloak as they were. Fortunately they had not fallen far and had landed in a heap of dead leaves, and, but for a few bruises and having the breath knocked out of them, were unharmed. The wolves had gone, although they could still hear howling and barking.
They looked at each other and shamed embarrassment caused her cheeks to pinken. She had had no idea that men and women could give pleasure to each other just by kissing and being close, and caressing their secret places. What must he think of her? She loosened her hold of the cloak and stepped away from him. ‘May I have your belt?’ His voice was quiet.
Louise unfastened it and handed it to him. He girdled it about the cloak, but did it so that the opening was to his right side and he had an arm free. ‘What now?’ he said, easing his shoulders in a way that revealed that they caused him pain. ‘I presume you know your way about this forest, mam’selle?’ She nodded and relief flooded through her because he did not refer to what had happened. ‘I can take you to Caen.’
‘Good. The sooner we move the better. We might be warm now but we’ll cool down if we stay still.’
Her colour rose again at the thought of how they had warmed each other. She cleared her throat. ‘What of the wolves?’
The muscles in his face tightened. ‘I don’t doubt that they have found easier eating on the road.’
Immediately she realised what he meant and a shiver passed through her.
‘Try not to think about it,’ he said roughly. ‘And button yourself up or you’ll be chilled.’ A faint, tired smile tugged at his mouth.
Instantly that smile infuriated her as she realised that the front of her shirt and doublet were wide open. What had she been thinking of to allow him to take such liberties and to return them? She turned her back on him and fastened and tucked in her shirt, still feeling slightly light-headed. Adjusting her doublet, her fingers suddenly found, halfway round her back, the pasty and loaf that she had placed inside her doublet. The pasty was crumbling and the loaf had been flattened, but as she pulled them out she realised just how hungry she was.
Facing John, she said stiffly, ‘I have some food.’
‘You think of everything to comfort a man,’ he said quietly, watching the colour flood her cheeks as he tore off part of the loaf she proffered. What was she — an innocent or a wanton? He was uncertain. ‘Where did you get this food and how did you get here?’
‘Later I will tell you,’
responded Louise, squaring her shoulders and tilting her chin. ‘Best we keep quiet. It’s unlikely that Pierre is still around, but — ’
‘Pierre is their leader?’
She nodded. ‘You have met before and he nearly lost a hand.’
His brows drew together. ‘That would explain why he was so determined to make me suffer a little before putting an end to my life,’ he said lightly, biting a chunk out of his bread and beginning to walk. ‘He considered it amusing to tie me naked to a horse and have me dragged along the ground.’
‘Oh!’ She involuntarily glanced down at him. ‘That — that must have been — painful.’
‘I managed to turn myself around a few times so that certain places did not get damaged too much.’
She blushed, guessing at what he referred to. They both fell silent and did not speak for a while, their own thoughts keeping them company. Wearily they forced their stiff limbs to keep on moving. Eventually they came out on to the road, a couple of miles or so further on from where the attack had taken place. There was a huddle of boulders several yards from the road, giving some kind of shelter from the elements, and without saying anything they both came to a halt. Louise dragged herself up from the frozen ground and on to one of the boulders. She hunched her knees and dropped her head on her folded arms.
John joined her on the rock, which was in the lee of a higher one, and tucked the hem of the cloak under his cold feet. ‘I’m glad that you didn’t stay at Harfleur,’ he murmured, ‘but why didn’t you?’
She told him in a voice slurring with tiredness, adding, ‘I almost wish I had stayed there now. Because — maybe Pierre will find us after all, and he will kill me as well as you, and what will happen to my sister then? At the least if he learns of this night’s work he would not allow Marguerite and me under his roof when we get back from England.’
