by Ida Curtis
At first light, Chetwynd and Ingram discovered Gilda and Marianna seated together in the dining hall. Both women looked up with hopeful expressions on their faces.
“Any word, my lord?” Marianna asked.
“Nothing. There is still no sign of a ransom note. We suspect the kidnappers have changed their plans. That may be good news,” Chetwynd said to cheer Marianna. “We will be leaving soon to search the area. Jerome may have returned to the aqueduct or left a message for us.”
“I’ll get ready to accompany you, my lord,” Marianna replied.
“I think it’s best you stay here with Gilda.” Then to discourage her from arguing, he added, “We can travel faster on our own.”
Although Marianna was clearly disappointed, she didn’t object. “I’ll do as you think best. Just bring her back safe.” She turned away, and Chetwynd could tell by her trembling shoulders that she was weeping.
IN THEIR HIDING PLACE ABOVE THE OUTLAW’S CAVE, Jerome and Isabel had passed a fretful night. Each had slept for a short period, but it was cold, and there was not enough space for them to lie down. To pass the time while waiting for daylight, they whispered to each other.
“I can’t believe you managed to find me,” Isabel said.
“It was just luck, my lady,” he replied.
Isabel was positive there was a great deal of skill involved. Ingram had told her that Jerome was twelve years old, yet the young squire seemed to possess an innate cunning, as well as an innocent and energetic nature.
“Tell me about your duties as a squire, Jerome,” she said, eager to learn more about the exceptional young man.
“My most important duty is caring for Lord Chetwynd’s horse, my lady. War horses are bred to do battle. They must be strong enough to carry a soldier in full armor. The care of such an animal is a great privilege, and Chetwynd’s horse is the best.”
Jerome spoke about the horse in a respectful voice that reminded Isabel of her own appreciation of the large war horses. “How long have you been in the service of Lord Chetwynd?”
“Since I had seven years. It was then he found me.”
“What do you mean, found you?”
Jerome was silent for a few seconds, and Isabel detected a reluctance to speak for the first time. She was also silent, not wishing to push him further than he wanted to go with his story.
“My parents and sisters died from a fever, and I was given to a farmer.” Jerome paused for a minute, as though making a decision; then the story poured out of him. “The farmer had too many mouths to feed. His oldest son was always stealing my share of what food there was. He beat me when his father wasn’t around. I finally ran away to the forest.”
Jerome paused again and wiggled about for a minute before continuing. “I tried to steal food from Chetwynd’s troop, and Ingram caught me. They planned to leave me at one of the monasteries that take in orphans. Until then they fed me and gave me duties to perform. At first I planned to run away when I got a chance, but they were good to me—the first kindness I’d known since my family died. So I stayed and tried to be useful.”
Jerome spoke thoughtfully, as though he hadn’t considered his history in some time. Isabel found it hard to reconcile his story with the joyful lad she had come to know.
“I wasn’t much use at first,” he told her. “But I kept at it and learned to do chores. The talk of leaving me at a monastery died. When I was ten, I became Chetwynd’s squire.”
Isabel could hear the pride in his voice as he continued. “You may think Lord Chetwynd’s troop is small, my lady, but all the men are skilled. And he is the most skilled knight in the kingdom. King Louis has sent him on many campaigns and granted him a fine manor. Until this spring he had his choice of campaigns.”
Jerome went suddenly silent. Isabel knew from Justin that King Louis, as well as his father before him, used private armies rather than maintaining a large army of his own. The king rewarded his knights for their service by granting them land so that they could support their men. She remembered that Chetwynd had mentioned receiving a benefice from the king when her grandmother had talked of Isabel’s dowry.
Isabel respected Jerome’s reluctance to speak further about whatever had happened between Chetwynd and King Louis. Jerome’s loyalty to and enthusiastic praise of Chetwynd did not surprise her, as she knew he was devoted to his master. It occurred to her that Chetwynd probably felt the same about his young squire. They clearly had a long history together, and her carelessness had put the lad in danger.
“I’m sorry I dragged you into the mess I made, Jerome.” Isabel was embarrassed when she heard her voice crack as she spoke. She hoped Jerome couldn’t tell she was fighting tears. It was one thing to endanger her own life by her carelessness, but the fact that she had done the same to Jerome was unforgivable.
“I wasn’t dragged, my lady. I begged Lord Chetwynd to let me search for clues. You escaped from the outlaws, and together we’ll find our way to the convent.”
When Isabel was silent, he said, “Tell me something about your life, my lady.”
Isabel smiled at his obvious ploy to distract her, but she couldn’t think of anything in her life that would interest Jerome. Then she suddenly remembered that there was one story that might appeal to him.
“There is one tale I can tell you. It happened when I was your age, and like your story, it had to do with the first time I met Lord Chetwynd.”
“You met my lord when you were twelve?”
“Maybe met is not the correct word.” She wondered if Chetwynd had told anyone that he knew her. It was unlikely, since it hardly qualified as a meeting. She had been unconscious at the time.
“Lord Chetwynd was a soldier with Lord Malorvic, and they were coming back from a tour of duty on the Spanish March, just like this time. He was fairly young himself then. Do you know Lord Malorvic?”
“No, my lady. Ingram told me Chetwynd formed his own troop shortly before they found me.”
“Well, Lord Malorvic had some unruly soldiers in his company, and four of them came upon my friend Emma and me when we were gathering flowers in the meadow. Emma was smart enough to run away, but I was too stubborn to see the danger.”
Isabel suddenly wondered why she had started this story. She certainly didn’t want to tell Jerome about being attacked by soldiers. All she had planned was to relate an adventure and maybe have an excuse to talk about Chetwynd. Now it was too late to stop, as Jerome was clearly intrigued.
“Two of the soldiers started teasing me.” She had hoped to play down the horror of the attack by her use of words, but she could tell by Jerome’s gasp that he suspected what really happened. The lad had seen more of cruelty than she had.
“You were attacked by those soldiers,” he said, clearly shocked.
“Yes, but just by one. He hit me when I tried to escape and knocked me to the ground, but Lord Chetwynd came to my rescue before anything could happen. My vision was blurred, perhaps by the blow, and all I could see was his long, golden hair shining in the sunlight. It seemed like there was a halo above his head, and I thought he was an angel come to save me. I passed out, and Lord Chetwynd carried me to Emma’s cottage so her mother could tend my wound.”
“Is that how you got the scar on your forehead?” he asked in an awed whisper.
“That’s right. I didn’t see Chetwynd again until you arrived at my father’s manor. In fact, I never even knew his name or what happened to him. And all this time he was a good friend of my brother’s.”
“I’m glad Lord Chetwynd was there, my lady.”
Jerome’s solemn tone told her he understood what could have happened to her. “Yes, I was fortunate. But I wish I had met him then. He was gone by the time I recovered. All I remembered was seeing an angel. I made the mistake of telling my friend Emma about it. She teased me for years.”
Jerome laughed then. “I’m sure Lord Chetwynd never told anyone you called him an angel.”
“I suppose not.” Isabel was
pleased that she had succeeded in making Jerome laugh. Then she noticed that she could actually see him smiling. They had made it through the night.
Since they hadn’t heard anything more from the outlaws, Jerome suggested they venture outside. “I’ll see if their horses are tethered by the cave,” he said. “They may be gone,” he added hopefully.
Jerome carefully removed the branches while Isabel held her breath, imagining that the outlaws were waiting outside for them to make a move. She had visions of the outlaws jumping out of the bushes to ambush Jerome. But all remained quiet.
When Jerome moved out of sight, Isabel suddenly panicked. She didn’t want to be alone. It was all she could do to stay in their hiding place. Fortunately Jerome was back in a matter of minutes, and she gave a huge sigh of relief.
“Their horses are gone. They may be searching for you.” He reached for Isabel’s hand. Stiff from being in the cramped space, Isabel was happy to have his help.
Looking Isabel full in the face for the first time in the daylight, Jerome’s mouth fell open. “What happened to you?”
Isabel realized he was staring at her cheek, and she touched the sensitive area where she had been struck by the outlaw. “Does it look that bad?”
“The whole side of your face, it’s discolored and swollen. You didn’t tell me you fell.” Then he looked more closely and asked, “Did someone hit you?”
“One of the outlaws. We should be going,” she urged.
“I’ll cut his heart out!” he roared. “Which one did it?”
“Jerome, I don’t need you to cut anybody’s heart out,” she said, trying not to laugh. “I need you to help me get away from here. I’m sure it’s not as bad as it looks.”
He was still fuming about her injury, muttering to himself. Isabel tried again to persuade him to focus on the present problem.
“Lord Chetwynd may be looking for us already. We need to make our way to the other side of the river where I was kidnapped. Since we don’t have horses, it won’t be easy to get across. Can we cross on foot somewhere, or do we need to wade through the water?”
Her question succeeded in turning his mind to strategy. “We don’t need to cross the river until we get to the aqueduct. We can travel along the riverbank until we reach it, cross over it, and climb down on the other side. With the outlaws on horseback, we’ll hear them if they return. We must stay close to cover as we move.”
They spent most of the day making their way carefully along the rugged terrain. The need to make sure there was always a place to hide nearby meant they had to take many detours, slowing their progress.
A soft rain began to fall. The rain kept them from becoming too thirsty, but they were both hungry. As Isabel grew tired, it became harder for her to keep her footing on the uneven slope of the canyon. Although neither one complained, their progress slowed even further.
Isabel was trying to keep pace with Jerome when she twisted her ankle and fell to her knees. Jerome was immediately at her side. “Sit down and rest, my lady.”
She almost laughed because she knew there was no way she could have done anything else. “Maybe you should go on alone, Jerome,” she suggested, although she dreaded the thought and was relieved by his answer.
“No. We stay together. We both need a rest.” Then he sat down as well.
After what seemed a short time to Isabel, Jerome stood up again and offered her his hand. Isabel wasn’t sure she could stand, but she found that her ankle, although sore, supported her. In silence she followed Jerome. “It’s not far now,” he promised.
When they finally reached the aqueduct, the familiar landscape lifted Isabel’s spirits. Aches, hunger, and fatigue were almost forgotten.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she remarked, sitting down to stare at the structure.
“It’s a bridge,” Jerome replied, obviously wondering how a bridge could be considered beautiful. “When we cross it, we’re going to be in plain sight of anyone watching.”
Isabel acknowledged the problem with a nod. They were sitting about halfway up the steep slope. “Perhaps we should climb down to the river and wade across,” she said, though she didn’t believe she could take another step.
“I don’t think so. The river flows rapidly in the middle where it’s deep. It would be risky.”
They sat resting, pondering their predicament. It was late afternoon, but they still had plenty of daylight hours to find their way to the convent. Finally, Jerome made a suggestion.
“I’ll go across the bridge alone. If anyone is watching, I’m just a peasant crossing the aqueduct. The bandits don’t know I’m with you. I’ll be able to have a good look around from up there. If it’s safe, I’ll come back for you. You can hide behind these bushes, and you’ll be able to see me when I’m on the aqueduct.”
The ledge they were sitting on protected Isabel from view from below. She wondered if the plan was as safe as he made it sound. “Don’t take any chances,” she warned him.
Jerome nodded, then started his climb up the steep bank, going slowly so as not to disturb the rocks and start a landslide. He had a distance to go before he could climb onto the aqueduct and start across. Although Isabel hated being alone, she told herself she would be able to see him when he reached the aqueduct.
Jerome had only been gone a few minutes when Isabel heard a rock rolling down the hill below her. From the sound she guessed someone was climbing up the bank toward her. Isabel pulled back on the ledge. Whoever it was must have spotted Jerome and was following him. If she were correct, the climber would not expect anyone to be so close. Determined to protect Jerome, Isabel picked up a large rock with the idea of stopping the climber.
There was no further sound. Isabel tried to see if anyone was below, but the ledge made it impossible to see beyond it without leaning out over the rim. If the climber came close, she would have a good chance to attack him from above. She weighed the large rock in her hand, hoping it was big enough to do the job.
The next sound she heard came from directly below her. She jumped up, caught a glimpse of a figure where she expected to see him, and threw her weapon at his head. The rock had just left her hand when she realized the climber had golden hair. She screamed a warning, but Chetwynd had already ducked. Still the rock landed on his shoulder with enough force to knock him over.
Appalled at what she had done, Isabel scrambled down to where Chetwynd lay. He was struggling to get up, and she moved so quickly she bumped into him, knocked him over, and landed on top of him.
Recognizing that his attacker was Isabel, Chetwynd ceased struggling and lay back to stare at her. “Saints preserve us,” he muttered.
“Are you all right, my lord?” Isabel was sickened by what she had done. As soon as the rock left her hand she was sure it would kill him.
Without waiting for him to answer, Isabel began imitating the check he had done on her when she fell from her horse. She had little idea what she was feeling for, but she took comfort from running her hands over his well-formed limbs. Surely she would be able to tell if he had broken any bones.
Stunned by Isabel’s sudden appearance more than the attack, Chetwynd pushed her hands away and struggled to sit up. “I’m fine, Isabel. Just relax a minute. Don’t help me.”
“I could have killed you. I’m just trying to see if you’re hurt.” Upset that he refused her help and afraid he was angry, she couldn’t stop the tears from pouring down her cheeks.
Chetwynd didn’t say another word. He stood up and gathered her into his arms, holding her tightly while she soaked his doublet with her tears. Her whole body was shaking from the force of her sobs, and he had to practically drag her to a safe spot under the ledge.
Isabel became aware that Chetwynd was kissing her forehead and holding her tight against him as he ran his hands up and down her back. She stopped crying and lifted her face, hoping to taste his lips.
His kiss was sweet, and Isabel was glad he was holding her tightly, as she knew she could
never stand on her own. Unable to get enough of his taste, her arms circled his neck and she returned his kiss with increasing eagerness.
Suddenly rocks were crashing around them and someone was shouting. At first Isabel was impatient at the noise that interrupted them, then frightened when Chetwynd pushed her behind him.
Jerome was rushing down the slope, sending rocks flying in all directions. He had heard Isabel scream and when he didn’t find her on the ledge, he began shouting her name.
At the same time, Ingram and Matthew were scrambling up the hill, dodging rocks and shouting for Chetwynd. Isabel, hidden behind Chetwynd’s back, listened to him calling to his men.
“I have Lady Isabel. She’s safe.” He pulled Isabel from behind him to prove his words, but he kept her tucked safely under his arm.
Ingram, Matthew, and Jerome all stared at her, but only Jerome was smiling.
“What happened to your face?” Ingram asked.
Chetwynd frowned at the question and turned to have a look. “Damnation,” he whispered.
Suddenly self-conscious, Isabel knew she must look like a wild woman. Her hair had been uncombed and uncovered for two days, and her clothes were dirty and torn. She put her hands to her face, to hide the swelling.
Chetwynd gently pulled her hands away. When he saw they were scraped raw, he examined them tenderly. “My god, what happened to you?”
Jerome was watching Chetwynd examine Isabel. When she hesitated, the squire answered for her.
“One of the outlaws struck her so hard she fell to the ground,” he said. “I didn’t see her injuries until this morning. All night long, she never complained. If the devil had been in the cave, I would have gone after him. Well, that’s what I thought at first. But of course the smart thing to do was to speed Lady Isabel away from there.”
Chetwynd silenced Jerome by putting a hand on his shoulder. “Take a deep breath,” he ordered gently. “Now, tell us how you rescued her.”
Jerome’s eyes went wide at Chetwynd’s assumption. “I didn’t rescue her. She escaped during the night. She tricked them. They tried to drug her, but she figured out a plan. She climbed up the hill to where I was hiding. The outlaws were out looking for her. We hid together until daylight. I have to tell you, it was cold in that hiding place. Did you catch the outlaws?” he asked, out of breath again.
