by Ida Curtis
Suddenly Isabel froze. Something was moving silently along the ridge toward her. She feared it might be an animal, and her heart began to beat wildly. When a shadow appeared in her path, she fell back in terror.
“It’s me. Keep coming.”
Isabel recognized Jerome’s voice, but shock kept her from moving toward him.
There were shouts from below, and Isabel knew her disappearance had been discovered. The sound was enough to set her in motion, and she rushed to Jerome. Without a word, he took her arm and guided her along the ridge into a crevice behind some rocks. Since there was no room to stand, Isabel bent over and sat with her back against the wall. Jerome squeezed in beside her and arranged a covering of branches over them.
“How did you find me?” she asked in a breathless whisper.
“I was on the other side of the river searching for signs of a trail. From there I happened to see the sun shining on metal and caught sight of movement. I crossed the river, climbed to this spot above the cave, and have been waiting for dark. I built this little blind in case the outlaws looked about.
“Lord Chetwynd said not to try anything on my own. I planned to find him and tell him where you were. I was just about to leave when I spotted you moving up the hill. I couldn’t believe my eyes. How did you get away?”
Before she could reply, Isabel heard rustling noises outside their hiding place. They shrank back into their small shelter. Isabel could see through the covering Jerome had devised, and spotted two men searching. The outlaws must have divided into pairs, one pair going toward the water and the other pair up the hill. Isabel feared the men outside would stumble into the blind. She shut her eyes, not wanting to see it when it happened.
“The little witch couldn’t have got this far. She must have gone to the river.” It was Hardy who spoke. He sounded like he was right on top of their hiding place.
“I thought you drugged her, you lout. How did she get away?”
They had moved away and Isabel couldn’t make out Hardy’s muttered reply, which was followed by a long string of curses.
Neither Isabel nor Jerome said anything for a long time after the men hurried away. When it had been quiet for a while, Isabel relaxed a bit and realized she was practically on top of Jerome. The crevice was situated between a rock and a steep part of the bank. “Sorry,” she said as she moved as far away as possible in the tight enclosure.
“That’s better.” Jerome moved his cramped arm and laughed softly. “My arm has lost all feeling.”
“I know what you mean. I think my whole body has lost all feeling. What do we do now?” Isabel asked, cheered to have someone to share her dilemma.
“They may be back. It’s safest to stay put for now. This spot is well hidden.”
“I think you’re right. I’d hate to have to stumble around in the dark. We’ll have a better chance of keeping our footing in the daylight.”
“Tell me how you got away?” Jerome asked, unable to contain his curiosity another minute.
Isabel listened to make sure there was no sound from outside and then started her story. Jerome was an appreciative audience, gasping when she mentioned the drugged wine, and making a whistling noise when she described sneaking away under the cover of their boisterous game.
When she had finished, Jerome patted her arm. “You are clever as well as brave, my lady.”
Isabel smiled at his words. “Coming from someone who was quick enough to follow the outlaws on foot, that’s quite a compliment.”
“That was luck. You were smart. Lord Chetwynd’s always telling me how I need to use my head.”
“From what I can see, you use your head very well. This is an excellent hiding place.”
There was a long pause, and Isabel suspected Jerome was blushing. When he did speak, he ignored her praise. “Maybe we should take turns sleeping. We need our rest for tomorrow.”
The blood was still pulsing through her veins. “I don’t think I can sleep. I’ll take the first watch,” she replied, encouraging him to sleep if he could.
Jerome had made himself as comfortable as possible when they heard more rustling noises outside. At first Isabel suspected animals, but then she heard a rock roll down the hill and a soft curse. The hunters had returned, and this time they were being as quiet as possible, hoping to fool their game into making some sound. Isabel prayed her young friend was right in his optimistic assurance that the searchers would not stumble upon the crevice where they hid.
This time the bandits were not close when they passed by, and Isabel breathed a sigh of relief. Once it was quiet again, Jerome fell asleep leaning against her side. His weight was light and his warmth a comfort, as she had left her cloak behind. Calming down, she began to notice that her head throbbed and her scraped hands were burning. Although she knew they had to stay put, she longed to climb down to the river to dip her hands in the cool water and treat herself to a long drink.
To get her mind off her discomfort, Isabel thought about what daylight would bring. She was confident Jerome would have a suggestion about what they should do. She grinned when she remembered how impressed he had been by her escape. He had no idea how frightened she had been.
Her thoughts drifted back to Chetwynd, as they always seemed to do. She had caused him nothing but trouble. He had sent Jerome to find her, and she knew he would be worried sick about the two of them.
CHAPTER NINE
FORCED TO OBEY THE INSTRUCTIONS OF THE kidnappers or risk harm to Isabel, Chetwynd led his men toward the Convent of Saint Ives. Unwilling to lose a minute in attempting to work out measures they could take to gain some control of the situation, Chetwynd and Ingram conferred anxiously as they rode.
“One of the bandits will deliver the ransom demand, Ingram. I’ll arrange for the porter to note new arrivals that look suspicious.” Chetwynd was hoping the porter would be an experienced observer of travelers. “You can seek out the local sheriff,” he said.
Ingram nodded. “I know Sheriff Willem. A thorough man,” he assured Chetwynd. “He may have information about similar abductions on the road. Perhaps there have been other kidnappings for ransom.”
The Convent at Saint Ives was a teaching convent run by the sisters of the Holy Cross. Young girls came to the convent to study, some staying to become nuns and others returning home to marry.
Chetwynd’s sister, Gilda, was one of the nuns, and he had been looking forward to seeing her. He had worried about how he would introduce Isabel, and he could take no satisfaction in the delay of this task. He would give anything to be able to ride through the gates of the convent with Isabel at his side and announce that she was his wife. His only consolation was that his familiarity with the nuns would make the task of enlisting their aid easier.
As Chetwynd gave his horse over to the convent porter, he requested an interview with the abbess. The porter agreed to see if she was available, but before he had a chance, Gilda, her veil and brown habit flapping behind her, ran across the courtyard.
“I saw you approaching,” she cried as she flung herself into Chetwynd’s arms. When her brother squeezed her so tight her ribs ached, she pushed back to look at his face. “Whatever is the matter?”
“My wife has been kidnapped,” he answered, wiping a hand over his eyes.
“You’re married?” was the first question that Gilda asked, then, “Dear lord, when was she kidnapped?”
“I have to see the abbess. I’ll tell you both the details at the same time. I need help, Gilda.”
“Of course. Come with me,” she said, taking his hand and leading him to the chamber where the abbess spent most of her time working on the convent books. Although Gilda knew the abbess didn’t like to be disturbed, that fact did not deter her.
When Gilda knocked loudly, they heard an impatient one-word reply: “Enter.”
As soon as Abbess Ermguerrd saw Lord Chetwynd’s face, she rose and came around the table to greet him, taking his hands in hers. “It’s good to see you again, Lo
rd Chetwynd. Has something happened?”
After a hasty greeting, and without taking the seat offered him, Chetwynd paced as he told them about Isabel’s kidnapping in as much detail as he could remember. Both women listened intently, their faces solemn.
When Chetwynd had finished, the abbess was quick to reply. “Ralph is a conscientious porter, and he will take note of everyone who arrives. It seems likely we will be looking for a single man, or perhaps two. Any information Lady Isabel’s maid can give Ralph about the appearance of the outlaws will be helpful.”
Relieved by her quick grasp of the situation, Chetwynd nodded. “I know Marianna will be more than happy to do all she can. She is an observant woman, and although she wasn’t in their company long, I’m sure she’ll be able to help with a description of the bandits. As you can imagine, Marianna is very upset at being forced to leave her mistress.”
As Chetwynd remembered the look of distress on the servant’s face, he paused a moment before going on. “We left two of my men behind, and they should be arriving sometime tonight with further news. My squire is going to search on foot for any trace of the bandits, and the other man is waiting at the aqueduct for him to return. Please have the porter direct them to me at once, no matter what time they arrive.”
“Of course. Hopefully they will have good news.”
“I can’t thank you enough for your help and understanding, Reverend Mother.”
“No need for thanks, Lord Chetwynd. Please let me know if I can do anything more. You have done all you can for now. It’s time to ask for the Lord’s help. Go with your sister to the chapel and renew your strength with prayer.”
On their way to the sanctuary, Chetwynd finally took time to give some attention to his sister. “You’re looking well,” he said, managing a smile as she took his arm.
Gilda was the only family member with whom he remained close. Although she and Isabel were about the same age, Gilda was more delicate in appearance, a fact that belied the strength of her character. In spite of her austere habit and small stature, her lovely face shone with health and contentment. Being in Gilda’s company had always been a restful and revitalizing experience for Chetwynd.
“I wish I could say the same for you, dear brother.”
“To tell the truth, I feel helpless, and I don’t much care for the feeling.”
“You can depend on the abbess, Chetwynd.”
“I know she’ll do all that’s possible to help us.”
Gilda nodded and then asked him the personal question she had abandoned when she heard of the kidnapping. “How is it that you are suddenly married? The last I heard you were still vowing to avoid such a fate.”
Since he had mixed emotions about the event, Chetwynd wondered where to start. “It’s a complicated story. Isabel is Lord Justin’s sister. You’ve heard me speak of him. I hadn’t planned to marry Isabel, but when I arrived at her father’s manor at Narbonne. . .” Chetwynd paused. How could he explain how the match came to be arranged without sounding ridiculous for the role he had played?
“You fell madly in love with her,” Gilda filled in for him.
Chetwynd was shaken by her comment, realizing it was close to the truth, but it was closer to lust than love. As soon as he’d seen Isabel swimming in the pond, he had wanted her for his own.
“Not exactly,” he mumbled. “I hadn’t meant to marry. The match was arranged to make it easier for Lady Isabel to travel with us.”
Gilda’s raised eyebrows told Chetwynd that she questioned his abbreviated version. But he didn’t elaborate, and she didn’t press him. “I’m eager to meet Lady Isabel,” was all she said.
The thought that the meeting might never happen was like a knife in Chetwynd’s heart. To hide his pain, he turned his face away from his sister. But Gilda had always been able to read his moods, and she squeezed his arm.
“Come, my dear. We will pray for Lady Isabel’s safe return.”
Inside the small chapel, brother and sister knelt together. Chetwynd abandoned the usual prayers he had repeated by rote for so many years. Instead he pleaded silently for God to watch over Isabel and keep her safe. Although the presence of Gilda and the quiet of the chapel calmed his anguish, the relief was fleeting.
Later, in his room, Chetwynd was again tormented by thoughts of Isabel, his beautiful and spirited wife, alone with the outlaws. The possibility that she might be hurt terrified him. To ease the distressing images the situation brought to his mind, he paced back and forth in the narrow space between the small bed and the door, wondering what more he could do. Ingram had been dispatched to speak with the sheriff. The porter, briefed by Marianna, was on guard at the gate. The good sisters had taken charge of Marianna and were praying for Isabel’s safe return. All he could do now was wait, and the lack of activity was difficult to bear.
As the night wore slowly on, Chetwynd moved to lie on his bed and stare at the ceiling. He had wasted so much precious time. Instead of avoiding Isabel, he should have been getting to know her better. It was clear she desired him, as he did her. Unfortunately, he had made mistakes in his life and there were matters to settle before he could think about marriage.
If Isabel were returned to him, he’d make it right. He’d explain to her his relationship with the queen, and then seek Justin’s blessing on their marriage. He suspected that he would have trouble convincing Justin, who knew of the mistakes he had made, that he would be a suitable husband for his sister. He couldn’t even convince himself.
There was a soft knock on his door. Chetwynd leapt from his bed, hoping to hear some news of Isabel. Pulling open the door, he found Matthew, the soldier he had left at the aqueduct to wait for Jerome. It took only a second to see that Matthew was alone. Chetwynd’s heart sank.
“What news?” he asked.
“Jerome didn’t come back. I waited longer than you asked me to, but there was no sign of him. I thought you should know, my lord.”
Matthew was his youngest soldier, not many years older than Jerome. He looked as dejected as Chetwynd felt. “It’s all right, Matthew. You did the right thing.”
“I just thought you should know he didn’t return,” he repeated, pushing his hand through his already tousled hair. “I can go back to the aqueduct and wait longer.”
“Not tonight, Matthew. Get some rest and we’ll see what tomorrow brings. Perhaps there will be some news by then.”
Ingram arrived at the door just as Matthew was about to leave. He spoke without preamble. “Marianna insisted on staying in the dining hall to watch all newcomers, and I sat with her. She thinks she recognized a newly arrived merchant.”
“Where is he?” Chetwynd asked, already heading through the door.
Ingram grasped his arm to stay him. “Hear me out, Chetwynd. I sent Marianna away so the merchant wouldn’t know we spotted him. I was keeping watch on him as he had some supper when a curious thing happened. Another man arrived.
“I learned later from the porter that the second man didn’t even unsaddle his horse, but hurried into the great hall and spoke to the merchant I was keeping an eye on. They left the hall together and rode away. I thought about sending a man in pursuit, but I was afraid of putting Lady Isabel in danger.”
“Why didn’t you come to me directly?” Chetwynd roared. But even as he shouted his frustration, he knew he was wrong and rushed to apologize. “No, I’m sorry, Ingram. You did the right thing. My presence would have alerted him, and it would be too difficult to follow them in the dark without being seen. You did right.”
Unable to stay still, Chetwynd paced back and forth, thinking out loud as Ingram and Matthew pressed themselves against the wall to stay out of his way in the small room.
“There has been no ransom message, but our suspect has left. What could it mean? Perhaps Marianna was mistaken and he’s not connected to the outlaws.”
“Or perhaps he left a ransom message to be delivered after he left,” Ingram said.
Chetwynd nodded. “If we do
n’t receive a message by morning, something has probably gone wrong with their plan. We can try to pick up their trail then. We have to wait until morning to do anything,” he concluded reluctantly. “Damnation, I may go crazy by then.”
“Morning is almost here, Chetwynd,” Ingram reminded him.
Chetwynd nodded again, then remembered Ingram’s errand. “Did you learn anything from the sheriff?”
“Not much. There have been many incidents along the roads from the south. The routes that follow both the Rhone and the Rhine Rivers have been plagued by robberies. The sheriff says there are many poor men who can’t make a living any other way.
“But in spite of that, the sheriff believes Lady Isabel’s kidnapping, by outlaws who know you by name, is different from the usual robberies along the road. He asked if you have any enemies who might wish revenge. I didn’t respond, but it’s something we should consider, my lord.”
At this suggestion, Chetwynd sat on the bed and put his head in his hands. Remembering that Matthew hadn’t eaten, Ingram sent him off to get some food and then sat down beside his friend.
Chetwynd finally lifted his head. “I have also thought about that possibility, Ingram. The help I gave the queen has earned me some powerful enemies.” Chetwynd paused and added, “And now Jerome may have been taken as well.”
“Or there could be another answer,” Ingram was quick to remind him. “Jerome may have found something and thought it best to keep an eye on things. You know the lad can take care of himself. He’s been doing that since he was a child.”
“I told him that if he found something to return and tell me about it, Ingram.”
“That’s the other thing about Jerome; he has a mind of his own. You’re always telling him to use it. If he thought it best, he might not obey your order.”
Ingram’s assessment of Jerome’s character brought a trace of a smile to Chetwynd’s face. After Ingram left him, he spent what remained of the night mulling over different scenarios of what could have happened to Isabel and Jerome.
