Finding Peace - A Medieval Romance (The Sword of Glastonbury Series Book 2)
Page 3
“Just be careful,” called Elizabeth after him. “With all the rain, those green rocks are probably -”
There was a yelp, and a swish, and a high splash as Michael’s body cartwheeled into the stream. Instantly he began to be pulled downstream by the fierce current.
“Michael!” cried out Elizabeth in alarm, darting diagonally toward the bank. “Grab that branch!”
He saw the long, snaking branch sticking out from the center of the stream, caught at the head end of the rapids. He twisted with agile intensity, lunged, and grabbed a hold of it with one hand. He hung there, his thin body in the frigid water up to mid-chest, his breath coming in long heaves.
“Hold on!” Elizabeth called out, looking for a way to get across to him. She tried one of the rocks and nearly spun into the water herself, its surface was so slick. The next was as smooth as ice. She stretched her arm out but there was a good foot of distance between them still. She knew if the lad jumped that he was likely to pull them both in and straight toward those jagged rocks.
Michael’s fingers slipped, and he re-wrapped them around the branch. “I do not know how much longer -”
A strong, firm hand slammed shut on Elizabeth’s right arm, and a deep, steady voice assured her, “I have you.”
Elizabeth did not hesitate. She lunged forward, balancing on one foot, calling out, “Jump! Now!”
Michael looked at her for a long moment, then he was launching himself with all his energy. Her left hand clasped his solidly, and she was being hauled back on shore, collapsing down onto the ground, landing on a warm, broad chest. Michael’s soaked, light frame crumpled in against hers.
For a long moment she just lay there, her breath coming in long draws, her heart hammering in her chest.
Michael scrambled up, wide eyed, staring at the rapids. Elizabeth’s breathing began to return to normal, warmth rising up against her, the aroma of musk and sweat and leather surrounding her, and something else. It felt familiar and comforting.
Michael turned and looked down at her with concern. “Are you all right?”
She blushed, then rolled over to her feet, brushing herself down, watching as Richard gained his feet. He looked Michael over, then in a moment he had swept off his dark brown cloak, wrapping it around the lad who was now beginning to shiver.
His voice was low and even. “The first thing we need to do is get your clothes dry.”
Michael’s eyes lit up in panic. “I am not taking my clothes off; they are all I have,” he insisted.
Richard raised an eyebrow at that, but he nodded in agreement. “A fire should do quite nicely to dry you from without, while your body heat does the trick from within,” he agreed. He glanced at Elizabeth, and in a moment the two had gathered up enough kindling to create a small tent form within the ring of rocks. He retrieved a small box from the saddle on his dappled grey horse. Before long a cheerful blaze was sending off heat. Michael settled himself down immediately at the edge of it, drawing the cloak tightly around his body, carefully holding various body parts as near to the flame as he dared.
Elizabeth glanced at Richard. “Lucky you just happened to come by then,” she offered, half serious, half cynical.
Richard nodded at her, accepting both parts of her statement equally. “I doubt the lad knows how to swim,” he mused.
“Nope,” agreed Michael without turning. “Never saw a need for it.”
Elizabeth found herself smiling slightly. “Maybe now you see that preparing for every eventuality can bring you a longer life,” she commented gently.
“That is for sure,” sighed Michael, the pink tone beginning to return to his cheeks.
Richard’s eyes twinkled. “Maybe that extra five pounds of cheese helped him to float more easily.”
Elizabeth brought her eyes over to meet his. She was struck again by the moss-green color, the rich depths. She forced herself to look away. “Just how long have you been watching us?”
“I was keeping an eye on things,” agreed Richard. “Luckily for the young lad here.”
His gaze wandered down the quiet path, following it as it wended its way along the river. “So, where are we heading next?”
An invisible shield closed in around Elizabeth, sealing her off, and her voice was cool and emotionless. “This is an ideal spot, I think. We will camp here for the night.”
Michael’s eyes flicked up to hers for a minute, but he said nothing, returned his gaze to the fire evenly.
Richard was not so quick in his acceptance. He held her gaze for a long minute. “The boy is chilled through,” he pointed out. “Surely if you were to continue further along your way, toward an inn -”
Elizabeth shook her head. He wanted more of a sense of where they were heading, and, as it happened, this road led further into his own domain. She was not willing to give him the slightest hint, the tiniest inkling of where they were going.
“I think Michael is doing quite well, thanks to your cloak and the fire,” she commented.
“Yes,” piped up Michael immediately, turning his arms so another angle was presented to the fire’s heat. “I think I am nearly dry already. We will be fine here.”
Richard looked between the two, considering. “If that is your decision, then I am happy to help by -”
“By providing us with some privacy,” finished up Elizabeth firmly. “I am, after all, a woman caring for a child. It would be highly improper for a strange man to spend the night with us. We appreciate your assistance, and Michael will be more careful around the stream from now on. I think it would be best if you continued on your way and let us finish our daily activities in private.”
Richard pursed his lips, but after a long moment he nodded. His eyes moved to Michael. “Please keep the cloak,” he offered. “You need it more than I do.” Then he was mounting, turning, and riding back along the path, quickly becoming hidden over the rise.
Michael’s voice came in a low whisper. “Shall we ride out as quickly as we can?”
Elizabeth shook her head, kneeling down beside him. “I have no doubt he will set watch on us just over that hill,” she mused. “We still do not know why he is so interested in pursuing me.” She glanced out over the landscape. “How well do you know this area?”
Michael looked down. “Not well,” he admitted. “I rarely made it far out of the main village. This was probably the boundary of my explorations.”
She patted his shoulder gently. “Never you mind. The rain has stopped, and there should be a full moon tonight. As soon as night falls, we will head out and go cross country. The nunnery is on the coast. We can hardly miss the ocean if we head straight east.”
***
The orange sun shimmered as it slipped below the horizon, and Michael and Elizabeth finished up their handiwork. They had fashioned two piles of twigs on either side of the fire, creating shadows in roughly human shape. It would be a while before Richard felt the darkness would let him draw that close, to realize he had been watching decoys. By then they would be long gone.
She took her dagger to the lower ends of Richard’s cloak, forming small boots for her horse’s hooves. The fabric would mask their print as they moved over the damp soil. Then, with a final glance back toward the rise in the road, they set into motion.
They went slowly, carefully, picking out the more rocky areas where they would leave no mark of their passing. Soon they found a place where she felt they could ford the river, and they climbed on the roan’s back, encouraging him through the icy water. He made it without having to drop into a swim, and Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief when they reached the other side. If there was ever a path which left no trace, it was crossing a waterway.
She allowed them to pick up speed then, to move more surely east, always east, following the constellations and the path of the moon. It was rising now, shining a silvery light down on them, turning their world into a glistening fairyland. It seemed that dew danced on the edge of every blade of grass, every small bush.
>
She and Michael walked on either side of her horse’s lead, their eyes searching forward for trenches or hidden branches. She smiled, looking over at him. He had not complained once, not offered any resistance to her plan. He was resolute to see through what she had put into motion.
They stopped occasionally, listening intently, but there was never the slightest sound of pursuit, only the keening of the wind and the soft huff of her horse’s breath.
The sun was just starting to send a dappled softness to the world when they came over a rise and saw the spread of the ocean out before them, the low waves, the glistening green-blue.
Michael’s eyes went wide, and he gazed along its length. “I have never seen the ocean before,” he breathed. “I could not have imagined it was so large.”
“I have not seen it either,” agreed Elizabeth. “It is certainly beautiful, but it is also quite dangerous. It provides easy access by great numbers of troops. There is no way to seal off a pass here.”
Michael glanced left, then right, then back over at Elizabeth. “So, which way now?” he asked with the simple trust of youth.
Elizabeth’s gaze followed the coast in both directions. She had a fifty-fifty chance, but she decided that it was most likely that the nunnery lay to the north. “Left,” she stated firmly, and in a moment they were moving their way along the edge of the beach, breathing in the sharp tang of the air, immersing themselves in the sound of the rhythmic pull and release of the waves.
Chapter 4
Elizabeth exhaled in satisfaction, her shoulders slowly unknotting as the nunnery loomed before her. It was just as Claire had described it, tucked into a small cove against the ocean. It was serene, strong, isolated, and beautiful. The curtain wall was nestled close around the inner keep, and a single, large door stood open on the side opposite the ocean. A pair of soldiers waved down a greeting as they wearily made their way in through the wooden doors.
A young woman came forward to take the horse, and Elizabeth hesitated a moment. “Do you have a separate stable, perhaps one where you keep infirmed horses?”
The woman paused, chewing the edge of her lip in thought. “I suppose there is the small stable alongside the blacksmith, where he keeps horses he is preparing to shoe,” she commented.
Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, please stable my horse there,” she agreed.
The woman furrowed her brow. “But surely these stables are more comfortable -”
“It would please me to have my horse separate for now,” requested Elizabeth firmly.
The woman acquiesced and led the horse across the open courtyard. Then there was a patter of running feet, and a nun came streaming across the grounds, bright red curls escaping from beneath her wimple.
“Claire!” called out Elizabeth in relief, drawing her friend into a warm hug as the woman drew near. They embraced for a long while before Claire drew back to look Elizabeth over critically.
“You poor dear! You look half dead. How long has it been since I saw you?”
“I think ten years, since we were both thirteen,” mused Elizabeth. “A lot has happened since then.”
“Yes,” responded Claire, her voice dropping. “I was so sorry to hear about your brother, Jeffrey. He was a favorite of mine, as you know. A dearer lad could not be found anywhere. You must miss him terribly.”
“I do,” agreed Elizabeth, a shadow moving over her. He had been her rock, her protector, and now he was gone, and it was all her fault.
Claire drew her into a fresh hug, then looked to the side. “And who is this skeleton figure?”
“Claire, let me introduce you to Michael,” offered Elizabeth, forcing a smile back onto her face. “This young lad was my guiding light these past few days.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Michael,” greeted Claire, bending down to shake his hand. “I would have to guess that you are hungry.”
“Yes, indeed!” cried out Michael, his face brightening with pleasure.
“Well then,” welcomed Claire, drawing an arm around each of them. “Let us get you inside, warmed up, and well fed.”
They moved their way across the courtyard with its myriad of out-buildings and shops, then up the steps into the keep proper. The entry hall was laid out with long tables lined with benches. Most tables had already been cleared, and Elizabeth saw the sisters moving to and fro on their various duties, but the head table was still arrayed with a delicious spread of rich cheese, plates of pickles, and bowls of fragrant, warm gruel. Elizabeth dove into her meal the moment she was seated, and Claire laughed with warmth as her two charges devoured the offerings.
Elizabeth’s eyes began to droop once she had finished, and she barely knew where Claire was leading her as they headed up a spiral set of stairs. She was taken toward a bed and tumbled into it, sword still on her hip.
*
A hand was shaking her awake. The sun was streaming brightly through the window; she guessed it could not be much past noon. She had gotten five hours of sleep at the most.
“What is it?” she murmured groggily.
Claire’s voice was low. “You have a visitor.”
Elizabeth sprang awake, and in a moment was following Claire over to the window. She had been given a room on the front of the keep, facing over the courtyard. Looking down into its well-lit square, she could see a dappled grey horse held to one side. A well-built man with dark brown hair was standing in the center of the courtyard, his eyes looking carefully over every corner of the area, searching.
Elizabeth quickly drew back from the window.
Claire chuckled. “Not a friend of yours?” she inquired dryly.
“I am not sure,” replied Elizabeth warily. “And that enough keeps me from wanting him to know where I am.” She brought her eyes to meet Claire’s. “I realize you are a nun, but -”
Claire’s eyes twinkled. “Say no more,” she reassured her friend. “We have plenty of women here who are keeping away from fathers, brothers, and men of all varieties. We have no issue at all with sending them on their way. Let us take care of this for you. We are well practiced in the art.”
With a friendly pat, Claire turned, heading from the room. Elizabeth carefully made her way back to the window, peering down. In a moment, Claire walked regally out from the main keep doors. She strode straight up to Richard and began talking with him. Richard seemed to protest, but she was even and firm. He motioned toward the stables, and she shrugged, offering an invitation with the sweep of her hand. He moved at a fast pace, vanishing within for a few minutes.
Finally he emerged, the frustration visible in his tense motions, and he remounted. He pulled his horse in a circle, and his eyes scanned across the buildings … the windows … Elizabeth pulled to the side, careful to avoid being seen. When she looked back out again, he was in motion, riding out through the open gates, heading down the coastline.
She watched him go, her shoulders easing in a mixture of relief and curiosity. Just what was it the man was after?
A loud yawn erupted from her mouth, shortly followed by another. She wearily tumbled her way across to the bed. She was impressed that he had managed to track them so quickly, but for now she was safe. And right now, the most important thing she needed was rest.
*
Elizabeth blinked awake, the gentle pre-dawn light dancing in through her window, tinting her trunk and low table with streaks of gold. She had slept straight through the day and night, and felt more rested than she had in months. She drew in a long, deep breath, relishing the feeling.
She climbed to her feet, moved to her door, and stepped out into the quiet hallway. She knew from Claire’s letters that most of the keep’s inhabitants would already be down in the chapel at morning vespers. Still, she kept her movements quiet as she headed down the hall, descended the spiral staircase, and moved out into the dew-laced courtyard. The main gates stood open, and a pair of soldiers waved to her from their watch over its entrance.
She waved back, then headed over to
one side where a straw dummy was set up surrounded by a low ring of hay bales. She guessed this was where the small contingent of guards kept themselves in shape during the long, quiet stretches of their assignments here.
She began by doing a series of stretches and lunges, working the kinks and knots out of her muscles. When she was warmed up she began practicing her swordwork. She placed the hilt of the sword at her left hip, striking out left and down at the dummy’s right shoulder. Being left-handed, she had a natural advantage against most other fighters. They practiced regularly against other right-handed opponents, but rarely faced a left-handed one. She, on the other hand, had ample experience dealing with right-handed fighters and knew exactly where they tended to have trouble.
She worked for a while on her high, arcing strike, then moved along to the low leg sweep. She drew her focus in, striving to hit the exact point where the blade would carve its way into …
A pair of bright eyes peered over a hay bale to the left, and she pulled in, startled. Michael climbed over the bale, staring at her in fascination. “Could you teach me how to do that?”
Elizabeth’s first reaction was to ease him off, to remind him that his stay here would undoubtedly be short, that her own future path was uncertain. But his eyes were so eager, his face so plaintive, that she found she did not have the heart to discourage him.
“I am sure they keep practice swords around here somewhere,” she agreed. They dug around in the piles of odd belts and leather which littered the back side of the ring. In a short while Elizabeth emerged with a pair of medium length wooden swords. She handed one to Michael and took the other for herself.
“We start with footwork,” she instructed him, and helped him to position the sword at his hip, holding the point forward, aiming at an imaginary opponent’s eyes.
“Your feet are the core; they support everything else you do,” she instructed him firmly. For a moment she was Michael’s age, and her brother was there beside her, his green eyes looking down at her in kindness, his hand rustling through her hair. She blinked away the vision, concentrating on the here and now. “Move the front foot forward a half stride, then bring the back one up to match. Always keep yourself balanced. Now … advance.”