by Aston, Alexa
Folc grabbed her ankles and pulled her toward him till her legs dangled awkwardly from the back of the cart. He pulled her to a standing position and then lifted her by the waist and carried her near the fire before he set her back against a tree stump. Untying the confining gag, his eyes narrowed in unspoken words. She knew he warned her not to make a sound and to speak only when spoken to.
They ate in silence, which suited her. Each time they stopped, Elysande studied her surroundings. If given the chance, she would make a run for it. She wanted to be as familiar as possible with everything around them.
Tonight, they dined upon a small rabbit which hadn’t had much meat on its bones. Eating proved awkward with her wrists tied together, her palms facing one another, but she had managed to learn how to do so. She often dropped her food into her lap. Her cotehardie now revealed many greasy stains. After so long on the road, sweating under the blankets, she longed for clean clothes and a hot bath. She’d even asked to rinse her face and hands in a stream the first time they stopped, but Folc had rejected the idea. She chuckled inwardly. Mayhap Lord Ingram would be so appalled by her smell and appearance that he would not want her, after all.
The two men had almost finished eating, so Elysande knew she better hurry. When they were through, that meant she was, too—whether she had food left or not. She quickly downed the last few bites and waited patiently to relieve herself. As usual, Ernis was given this task. Folc was the one in charge and Ernis—though not stupid—simply followed any orders given to him.
He came over now and loosened the ties from her ankles. Elysande was thankful the small dagger wedged inside her boot did not stick out. She prayed this was the night she would be able to use it and escape from Lord Ingram’s men.
Ernis gripped her elbow firmly and led her away from the camp. Elysande waited for him to look away before she lifted her skirts as best she could. She had never experienced humiliation before—and she would never forget this feeling. She finished her business and looked about for some fallen leaves. She found a few several feet away. A thought suddenly came to her.
She deliberately tripped as she stepped toward the bunch. As she fell, she curled into a ball and brushed her skirts aside. Elysande slipped her fingers inside her boot and, though it was tight, she was able to pull her dagger out.
In the meantime, Ernis cackled at her clumsiness. He bent to right her. Elysande thrust the dagger into his side and pulled up, feeling the skin tear.
She would never forget the look of astonishment on his face. He dropped his hands from her elbows and clutched the hilt of the knife jammed into his side. She put her bound hands atop his and yanked up again. His eyes bulged as he fell away from her, moaning. As the soldier dropped to the ground, the dagger came out of him and remained in her hands.
Then silence. Ernis did not move. Oh, Blessed Jesu. She’d killed him.
She couldn’t waste time crying. Or even thinking. Escape loomed in her mind. She would ask God’s forgiveness later. Now, she must flee.
Without a backward glance, Elysande skirted the woods, giving their camp a wide berth. She came to the road they must have been on. In the distance, she heard Folc calling out. Then a shrill bellow pierced the quiet of the night. Elysande knew Folc had discovered his comrade’s body.
Elysande darted across the road. She dared not stay on it or she’d be easily seen and recaptured. Instead, she headed deep into the woods on the other side and then began making her way parallel to the road. Though she still carried the dagger, she had no time to stop and free her hands. That would have to wait until later.
She didn’t run. She knew not to exhaust herself. Rather, she kept a brisk, steady pace as she weaved through the woods, listening to see if Folc gave chase. Elysande knew he would. She was too valuable a prize for him to lose, especially after all the time he’d invested. She wondered if he’d double back on foot and abandon the cart to search for her on horseback, hoping to chase her down. At this point, darkness was her only friend. She had no way to measure time to know how long she’d been gone. More than anything, she needed to find somewhere to hide. It would be easy to spot her once daylight came.
A loud thrashing behind her caused her heart to race. Folc was catching up to her. Elysande stopped in her tracks, looking around for a place to hide. A thick, fallen log lay several feet in front of her, with another log crossing on top of it. Quickly, she threw her leg high and climbed over them. She crouched low and then slipped under the tree trunks as far as she could.
Just in time.
She heard the horse as it crashed through the dense forest. Folc swore loudly, his hollered threats sending a chill down her spine. Then the hooves approached. Elysande held her breath. She couldn’t give her position away. Suddenly in the dirt in front of her, the horse landed, having jumped the logs. Folc rode further and then pulled up on the reins. He twirled in a circle, looking carefully at the surrounding woods. She could see his profile in the moonlight, the hook of his nose, the jutting chin. She squeezed her eyes shut and willed him to ride away.
And he did.
Elysande stayed rooted to her hiding place. She would remain here for a little while. If Folc backtracked this way, she didn’t want to risk running into him.
Her fingers ached. She lifted her hands, which still clutched the blade so tightly that it took time for her to loosen her grasp on it. She maneuvered the knife toward her and let it slip down some before she began to saw carefully through the leather ties. Sweat dripped from her brow as she concentrated on her task. Finally, she cut through one of the strands enough to where she could pull and weaken it. The dagger sliced through the last bit. Her numb fingers went cold and then began stinging as if she’d fallen onto a bed of needles. Elysande rotated her wrists and opened and shut her fingers, stretching them until she had full feeling in them again.
Returning the dagger to her boot, she looked out into the dark. At least her hands and feet were now free for the first time in days.
*
Her body jumped. Elysande’s eyes flashed open. She scanned the area before her. Faint light filtered through the thick trees. In her exhaustion, she must have fallen asleep.
Taking the severed ties, she shoved them under the log that had protected her, wanting no trace of her to be found by Folc. She stood unsteadily, leaning against a tree trunk until she had her wobbly legs under control, then she set out walking. She cut through the woods and found the road again before she fell back. Her plan was to remain in the woods and move through them, parallel to the road.
Even in daylight, Elysande didn’t want to be out on the road alone because of roaming bands of highwaymen. She remembered traveling to the south after her father’s death so her mother could marry Lord Holger. His soldiers had always remained on guard as they journeyed to Hopeston. She didn’t want to fall prey to strangers.
Elysande walked for hours. Her feet ached. Her stomach gurgled in hunger. She remained on a constant lookout, tense, wary, watching for Folc.
As she continued, her heart became heavy. In the long hours, she had time to think on how she had killed a man. Yes, he’d kidnapped her. Held her against her will. He would’ve taken her to Lord Ingram, where she would have been forced to marry.
Still, that didn’t justify her taking a life. Now—more than ever—she would need to give her life in service to God. She might not be absolved of her sins, but dedicating her life to the Christ was the best she could do.
Especially now, with Michael already married at Sandbourne.
The light began to fade. Night would soon fall. Elysande was so tired. So hungry. She hurt everywhere. She dreaded spending another night alone in the woods, which seemed to grow more ominous about her.
Then, in the distance, she saw a structure familiar to her. Her excitement grew. She knew this place. ’Twas the Convent of the Blessed Sisters. Her family had stayed there on their way to Hopeston. It had been one of two nunneries that accepted travelers. She, her mother, and A
velyn had met several of the nuns when they took a brief respite from their travels. One, in particular, had been so kind to them. Sister Shiloh. That was her name.
Surely, they would give her sanctuary this night. And mayhap beyond.
Elysande walked as quickly as she could, though the blisters on her feet made each step more painful than the last. She reached the high, stone wall surrounding the convent and searched for the gate, praying she would be granted access. Finding the gate, she rang the bell a dozen times, eager for someone to answer.
A young nun, no older than she was, answered and invited her inside the walls. As the nun shut the gate behind them and locked it from within, Elysande relaxed for the first time in a week. While they walked to the main building, she explained to the nun how she’d stayed here on a previous journey as her party made their way south.
What Elysande kept hidden from the good sister was the fact that she’d recently been taken against her will. That men might be searching for her and come to the convent. Elysande was afraid if she revealed this information that she might not have been granted admission. So she kept quiet. For now.
“I can show you to a small cell reserved for travelers,” the nun told her, never asking why a woman alone showed up in the dark, bedraggled and worn to the bone. Elysande’s stomach rumbled loudly. The young nun smiled. “And I can bring bread and something for you to drink.”
“Oh, please,” Elysande said eagerly. “That would be most appreciated.”
The nun walked her to the small cell. As on her previous visit, it held a single bed and a lone chair as its furnishings. “Wait here.”
“Is Sister Shiloh nearby?” Elysande asked. “I met her on my first stay here. She was so hospitable to us.”
A smile crossed the nun’s face. “Sister Shiloh is one truly touched by grace. I’ll see that she comes to welcome you.” The nun looked her up and down. “I’ll also have her bring some water. You look as if you would like to bathe your hands and face.”
Elysande touched her face self-consciously. She knew it held small scratches from the branches she’d brushed past as she moved through the woods. “That would be kind of you.”
She sat on the small bed and eased her boots off. Her feet, rubbed raw by her long trek, were a mass of painful blisters. Her mind went blank. She was so tired, she couldn’t even think.
A knock sounded on the door and Sister Shiloh stepped in. She carried a tall jar filled with water under one arm and a thick towel in the other. The young nun who had admitted Elysande followed the older nun. She balanced a small tray with bread and cheese in one hand and carried a cup in her other. She placed the food down and disappeared, closing the door behind her.
“Greetings, Lady Elysande,” Sister Shiloh said. “I remember you and your lovely sister and mother. Are they with you? I would enjoy speaking to them, as well as to you.”
Elysande burst into tears at the thought of her loved ones. The nun sat next to her. She wrapped an arm around Elysande and held her tenderly, cooing nonsense while she cried.
After she calmed, Sister Shiloh said, “Why don’t we let you wash and eat something? Then I want you to share with me whatever’s on your heart.”
Elysande nodded and let the older woman minister to her. Elysande ate without speaking, allowing the nun to chat about some of her fellow sisters and the animals she cared for every day. After washing Elysande’s face, hands, and feet, Sister Shiloh left briefly. She returned minutes later with a strong-smelling salve which she rubbed into Elysande’s blistered feet.
Elysande sighed. Already, she felt welcomed. “I have much to tell you, Sister. And I would ask advice from you, as well. I have grievously sinned, and I seek to repent and change my life. I believe God led me here so that I can join your order.”
Sister Shiloh listened attentively as Elysande spoke. She explained of her betrothed dying before their wedding ceremony could take place and how she’d gone to visit her uncle at Kinwick. She told of being taken by two of Lord Ingram’s men and how the nobleman wanted to marry her. She explained how she had escaped from captivity, killing a man in the process.
Elysande hung her head in shame. Hearing the words uttered aloud made it seem more real than before. She was guilty of breaking one of the Ten Commandments. She’d taken a life and could never undo what she’d done.
The nun took her hand and gently kissed it. “God will forgive you, my lady. He is ever merciful.”
“But I believe I should stay on and dedicate myself to His good works. ’Tis the least I can do to try and atone for my sins.”
Sister Shiloh nodded. “I know our abbess would never turn you away, but you asked for my advice.”
“I did.”
“Then I would discuss this with your family. It’s a huge decision to leave earthly matters behind. You should share your thoughts with your loved ones and seek your mother’s approval. You must be very certain that you can give up worldly things. And not just those that are material in nature. By becoming a Bride of Christ, you must give up loving a man. Bearing his children. Becoming a mother.”
Elysande broke down again, her sobs echoing in the tiny room. Sister Shiloh gathered her in her arms and rocked her.
Finally, Elysande brushed aside her tears and spoke. “I do love a man, Sister, but marriage with him is impossible.”
“Tell me, my child. It may soothe you to speak of it.”
Elysande sighed. “I fell in love with a knight that serves my uncle. He loved me, too. I knew we were meant to be together. But he received word to return to his family’s estate in haste because his father lay dying. They’d been estranged for many years. He told me we would marry when he could claim his title as earl.”
Elysande shook her head. “But it’s too late for us. We received news that he was betrothed.” She swallowed, her misery now complete. “By now, he’s already married. And if I can’t have Michael Devereux as my husband, then I want no other man.”
Sister Shiloh stiffened next to her. Elysande pulled away and saw the shocked look on the nun’s face.
“What’s wrong, Sister? Have I said something to upset you?”
The nun’s lips trembled. “Michael Devereux . . . is . . . my son.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
As they returned south back toward Kinwick, Michael studied everyone they passed. Very few travelers were on the road today and he made sure they spoke to each one. None resembled any of Lord Ingram’s men, nor did he see anywhere Elysande could be hidden away. The soldiers also wove in and out of the woods, calling Elysande’s name, invoking his and Geoffrey’s names to alert her who searched for her and that they were friendly forces.
The sun dipped low on the horizon. He was ready to call a halt when he spotted a lone rider in the distance. The man came from out of the woods, turning his head from side to side as if he hunted for something.
Or someone.
Michael spurred Tempest on, wanting to catch up to the rider and ask what he searched for. As Michael came closer, he spotted the nose that hooked sharply.
He recognized the rider as one of Lord Ingram’s men.
Michael had seen the soldier at Hopeston, bragging in the training yard. He had seen the man a second time, flirting with a pretty servant in the keep when they dined one evening.
Then a second rider emerged from the opposite side of the road. He held the reins in one hand while his other hand pressed against his side. The man wore a pained expression. Michael immediately knew this man’s long, bony face and thin build. Another of Ingram’s men. Michael looked over his shoulder and saw his search party had quickened their pace. Ingram’s soldiers also noticed the approaching mass of riders. Both turned their horses and dug in their heels, taking off in the opposite direction.
Michael gave chase. He heard the galloping hooves behind him as Geoffrey and the men caught up with him. The thinner man he followed pulled his horse off the road and halted, knowing he could not outrun the bunch. Michael peeled awa
y from the group and rode up next to him. Michael’s own men fell out and surrounded the soldier while Geoffrey led his men to track down the other fleeing soldier.
Michael leapt from his horse as the man climbed gingerly from his, still holding his side. Bunching the man’s gypon in his fists, Michael yanked him close. “Where is she?” he growled.
The man quivered in fear. Michael looked down and saw that blood stained his clothing and fingers. Ingram’s man had been wounded somehow.
He hoped Elysande was the cause of it.
He dragged the man away from the horses and flung him down in the dirt. “Stay,” he commanded. He stepped out to gaze down the road and saw Geoffrey headed back his way, his men galloping behind him.
The nobleman rode up and jumped down. “’Twas one of Ingram’s men. I’m sure of it as are the others.”
“Where is he?” Michael demanded. “We have the other one.”
“Dead. He put up a brief fight. One of my men ran a sword through him.”
Michael’s hands fisted. “Then we’ll question this one.” He strode back toward the injured man, Geoffrey following him. His men parted so the noblemen could draw near.
“Where is Lady Elysande?” Michael demanded.
The man looked up at him. “I don’t know,” he said sullenly. “Where’s Folc?” He looked about him. No friendly face returned his gaze.
“Don’t worry about him,” Michael warned. “Tell me everything you know—now—if you want us to spare your life.”
“I’m Ernis, in service to Lord Ingram. We were only following his orders,” he sputtered. “We weren’t to go back to Rudland unless we had the lady in hand.” He looked at the group that surrounded him. “You killed the rest of my lord’s men when we attacked you on the way to Kinwick. Folc and I were the only two who escaped.”
“And you waited and watched for an opportunity to take my niece?” Geoffrey asked, his voice soft, his tone deadly.
