My Lady Faye

by Sarah Hegger

  “Well, we are past midday.” Simon frowned.

  Faye squinted up at the sun. “Which means, that direction must be west and we are heading south.” Her brief moment of triumph dropped like a stone. South was no good. Go north to Aldous, Gregory had told her. She should have asked more questions then, but she hadn’t wanted to accept the possibility she might need the knowledge. She tucked the twig into her belt. At least they now had more idea of where they needed to go. The prick of the twig at her waist comforted her, a sort of talisman. Faye used it each time they stopped. The day marched forward relentlessly.

  Surely Gregory would catch up with them any time now. Unless—

  Nay, she couldn’t think that. He was the best fighter at Calder Castle. He must have lost track of them, but he would find them, she had faith in him. Gregory had never failed her before. The strain of remaining alert bunched her shoulders and stretched her nerves to the point where each stray leaf flutter or scurry through the undergrowth had her jumping.

  They reached a small road early into the evening. Little more than a bridle path, it wound between a hedgerow guarding a barley field on one side and a tangled wood on the other. Shadows hung low over the road. It ran in roughly the right direction and Faye elected to follow it. It made walking easier and a road must lead somewhere people wanted to go. Fields indicated people nearby. They stuck to the verge, ready to slip into the hedgerow at the first sign of someone coming.

  Simon held up his hand. “Listen.”

  The quick thud of hooves pounded the road.

  Faye tugged Simon off the road and into a narrow drainage ditch. The water was fouled with roots and stank. Slimy mud oozed over her ankles and into her clogs. Disgusted, she clenched her teeth to stop the shudder.

  “They might be help.” Simon’s gaze shone with new hope.

  Or they could be Calder. “We will see who they are first.” She stroked a sweaty hank of hair off his forehead. He had been so brave through this day, more than she could ever ask of him. If the state of her belly was any indication, the lad must be nigh on starving.

  Hooves clattered closer and Faye put her hand on Simon’s head to keep him down. A rider wove into view, tall and dark.

  Gregory. Her heart leapt into her throat. She stumbled partway out of the ditch and stopped. Not Gregory.

  Back into the ditch Faye slid, her belly dropping right into her muddy clogs. Just a dark haired messenger wearing colors she did not know. Past their hiding place went the hooves, growing fainter until the evening’s silence descended once more.

  Faye straightened and pulled her foot free of the mud.

  “Well now, my lovelies, look what Odo has found.”

  Chapter 13

  Beside the hedgerow stood a man of middling height with his legs planted apart and fists on his hips. His broad chest stretched the thinning fabric of his dirty tunic. Long, scraggly hair hung on either ride of a broad, flat face. His stare raked her from top to toe.

  Faye’s nape prickled as he wrapped a meaty paw around the hilt of long dagger at his belt.

  Three others slipped through a small gap in the hedgerow, equally filthy and ragged.

  “Who are you?” Faye drew her shoulders back. She may be standing in a drainage ditch with mud fouling her up to the knees, but she was still the daughter of Sir Arthur of Anglesea. Men did not leer at Lady Faye.

  “A lady?” The man’s brows rose. “Lads we have found a lady in a ditch.” His gaze crawled along her skin. “Forgive me, my lady.” He grinned, revealing a gaping hole where his front teeth should be. “I am called Odo by my friends. And we are going to be good friends, my pretty lady.”

  Simon tugged at her skirt. “Mama.”

  Nay, she and Odo were not going to be any sort of friends. She had to get as far from Odo as she could.

  There were five, now, all leering.

  “My son and I are trying to reach the next village.” She hauled herself out of the ditch, her heavy, muddy skirts hindering her. Faye kept Simon behind her as she stepped on the road.

  Two men slipped behind her.

  She edged around to keep them in sight.

  An immense man stepped into the gap beside Odo. His shaved head crowned a round face with an oddly boyish appearance. His wrists hung out of a tunic that strained to cover his breadth. Nasty, russet stains soiled the front of the tunic.

  Beside them stood a wiry boy, who seemed to be no older than Simon until she looked at his face. The boy had the shrewd, sharp gaze of a child with experience well beyond his years.

  Faye stepped to the left.

  Odo blocked her.

  The big one lunged, his mouth open in a soundless grin.

  Faye gathered Simon and backed away.

  “Get them,” Odo snapped.

  Five men closed the gaps, cutting off any hope of escape.

  Simon’s grip pained her fingers.

  The big man lunged for them, huge, hairy uncouth hands reaching for her boy.

  “Nay.” Faye fended them off. “Do not touch him.”

  “Settle down, Lady.” Odo spread his arms wide. “We do not want to hurt the boy, we want to take him on a little adventure.”

  The men had them trapped, no way out through the closed circle. She doubted she could outrun them. Her best chance lay in going with them quietly, for now, and waiting for her chance to escape. “He will come quietly.” Faye tucked Simon as close as she could. “Do not hurt him.”

  Perspiration coated her skin. Sweet Jesus, her mind fuddled in fear when she needed to think, protect her boy. The knife, she had William’s knife in her boot. There were five of them. She couldn’t get them all.

  Sickening memories of Calder rose up before her. Calder’s hard hands on her, Calder’s face twisted in a mask of cruelty. Her cowardice as she remained quiet, anything to stop the anger and not worsen it. Know when to fight and when to retreat. Calder!

  “Stay.” Inspiration struck. “My husband will pay a tidy ransom if we are returned unharmed.”

  “Lady.” Odo’s thick top lip curled in contempt. “If your husband valued you, you and the boy would not be out here walking the road without an escort.”

  “Nay.” Faye clawed at the hands on Simon. She shifted to keep between the men and Simon’s trembling form. “I have run away and he will pay handsomely to have me returned to him.”

  Odo’s jeering laughter scraped along her nerves. “She lies.”

  Calm, she must remain calm.

  “Who is your husband?” The boy had a high, piping voice, its innocence at odds with his desperate appearance.

  “The Earl of Calder. I am the Lady Faye of Calder and this is his heir. He will not take kindly to seeing us harmed.”

  The men broke into laughter.

  “What a fine jest, Lady.” Odo’s barrel chest heaved with laughter. “The Earl of Calder’s wife and child are guttersnipes? You should provide fine entertainment for the lads and I.”

  “Nay, I speak true.” Desperation made her tongue heavy and her voice strangled in her parched throat.

  “Calder is a rich man.” The boy pursed his lips. “He would, for certain, pay to have his wife and boy back.”

  Odo’s glared at the youngster. “Shut your face, boy!”

  The thin man cuffed the boy, but the child ducked with eye blurring speed to evade the blow.

  “The boy is right.” Beside Odo, a man with a long, drawn face spoke. “They say Calder has coffers of gold in his dungeon.”

  “In his armory.” Faye’s ears buzzed as the blood drained from her face. She clung to the tiny glimmer of hope. “Calder keeps the gold in his armory. I have seen it. Piles of it.”

  “Enough.” Odo wrenched her arm, as he hauled her from Simon.

  “Leave my mother.” Simon’s lip trembled in his pale face, but his scowl blazed his defiance.

  “They will not hurt me.” She put as much reassurance in her tone as she could. �
�We are of too much value to them unharmed. Only a foolish man would ignore such a windfall.”

  Odo scowled, thinking. “Will!”

  The big man grabbed Simon.

  Her son writhed in his grasp. He cried out as Will twisted his arm up and above his head.

  “Nay.” Faye wrenched against Odo’s hold.

  “Use your head, Odo.” The boy sneered. “She could be a lying whore, aye, but what if she is not?”

  The other men looked between Odo and the boy.

  Will shifted his feet. “The little turd makes a good point, Odo.”

  “Easier than this load of dog’s ballocks.” The boy hawked and spat.

  The spittle hit the road near her skirt and Faye recoiled. She wanted to giggle hysterically. She might owe her salvation to a nasty, foulmouthed criminal.

  “Heard a rumor all those armed men about are looking for a woman and a boy,” he said.

  Odo’s brows furrowed as he stroked the hilt of his dagger.

  Faye held her breath. She could see the ponderous movement of Odo’s dull brain on his face.

  The other men waited.

  “Bring ’em.” Odo jerked his head. “Do not fancy jawing this over in the middle of the road.”

  Relief brought tears to Faye’s eyes. Reprieve.

  Simon wriggled away from his captor and came to her side.

  Will glared at her son and then shrugged.

  “You try anything”—Odo turned back to her—“give me the smallest reason to regret your life and I’ll end it.” He meant every word. “And your son with you.” Odo leapt the irrigation trench and ducked behind the hedgerow.

  A jab in her back got Faye moving. Her legs were as water and she stumbled over the hem of her skirt. Her knees hit the road in a jarring thud. A sharp pain lanced up her leg. She righted herself on shaky legs.

  Simon’s face twisted in concern as he tried to help her to her feet.

  Faye gave him a reassuring smile and wiped her hands on her bliaut. Rough wool scratched her grazed hands. Simon needed her to be strong and she straightened her shoulders as she followed Odo through the hedgerow.

  The camp was set not too far from the road. A tall row of trees hid it from view, but provided an excellent sighting of the road from leafy concealment. She and Simon had walked right into their view. These men had watched as she and Simon huddled there while the rider passed.

  A circle of ashes in the center of a few stumps of wood comprised the entire camp. Dry bones, fruit peels and bread crusts covered the ground around the wood stumps. Fat, lazy flies swarmed about at one end of the camp. A midden, by the stench of it, and Faye pressed her hand to her mouth to stop her gorge.

  A prod sent her stumbling into the center of the clearing. The prodder stank of onions and rank sweat. “What should we do with ’em?”

  “Tie them.” Odo pointed to the trunk of a large tree.

  “What with?” Prodder sniffed. His voice had a nasal, whiny twang that made Faye want to box his ears.

  Odo’s look said he felt the same. “Find something, Ham.”

  “Aye, Odo.” Ham skittered away.

  The others feared Odo. Faye shivered as she studied his compact, strong body. He could wreak a lot of damage with such strength.

  Will shambled over with a stout length of rope. “We have not enough for both of them, but we can bind them together to the tree.”

  “Nay.” Faye’s hopes of escape would mean naught if she were bound. “We will not run.”

  Odo laughed showing the gaps in his mouth. “Do you think I be stupid, Lady?” He sniffed and waved Will over. “Bind them tight. The lady fancies herself a clever wench.”

  “She be pretty.” Will stroked her cheek. Her flesh crawled beneath his touch. Faye shuddered and shrank back from his fingers. Dear God, Will’s leer augured ill for her.

  “I have a fearful hunger,” the boy said. “If you are going to tupp her, can we not eat first?”

  “Mama?” Simon gulped.

  Her belly churned inside her like a wild beast straining to be released. Faye drew a shaky breath. For her son, she kept her emotion confined. This would not be the first time her body had been taken against her will. There were four of them, not counting the boy. Bile rose in her throat as she thought of them on her, inside her. With Calder it was best not to fight. If she lay limp and yielding, he would take what he wanted and leave her. The fight, he enjoyed. It fueled his desire and made him rougher with her than if she submitted to his will. Did she have the strength to submit? Four men. Her empty stomach heaved.

  Simon pressed against her thigh. For him, she would have to. It was more important she live to protect her child. Dear God, what would they do to him if she was not about to see to her son?

  “She is not going anywhere.” Odo turned his back on her. “We eat first.”

  Will shoved her toward the tree. He turned her and her back hit the hard bark. A flush stained his cheeks, his expression heavy with lust. His raised his filthy, huge hands to her breasts.

  Simon glared at Will’s hands. Big hands, coarse and blunt with dark hair across the knuckles, poised to touch her.

  “Please.” Faye managed past her parched throat. “Not in front of my son.”

  A struggle played across his thick features. Then, he dropped his hands and snatched up the rope.

  Faye sank to the ground and tugged Simon as close to her as she could, his small, solid weight warm against her. The ropes cut into her chest and stomach as Will bound them to the tree. Bark poked through her bliaut and dug into her back. Faye prayed silently. She prayed for Gregory to find them, for an act of Mercy to save them and, mostly, for the strength to endure.

  Chapter 14

  Gregory took the horse from one of his attackers. Two of the three men he bested in moments. The third presented more of a challenge. Number four had real skill and set his head ringing with a lucky, blunt edge blow. Five he finished in moments. The sixth made a clever decision and ran.

  Gregory silently wished him well. Five deaths hung over him as he tore into the forest with a prayer for their souls on his lips. The men had been determined to kill him. They feared their lord’s wrath more than they feared him and he’d had no choice. Even knowing this did not alleviate the sticky mass of guilt in his gut. Another sin to confess when he returned to the Abbey, but not his most pressing concern.

  He stopped and sifted through the sounds of the forest. The breeze whispered through the leaves. Chaffinches called and chuckled from above him. From deeper within the trees came the steady piping of a song thrush. He followed the low murmur of water to a stream.

  Footprints in the muddy bank, a woman’s and a smaller set—Faye and Simon. The tracks stopped at the stream and disappeared. Gregory set off through the trees. They must have stuck to the stream’s course.

  Calder had men everywhere, more numerous than rats in the grain. They forced him to stop as he evaded group after group. Calder must somehow know they had Simon and acted to retrieve the boy. The number of roving parties of men-at-arms also meant Calder had called in his vassals. The idea of Faye running into one of Calder’s hunting parties rode Gregory hard.

  The pinch in his chest increased as the day waned into evening and he still hadn’t found her. By now, she could be anywhere. Back at Calder. The flutter of blue caught his eye. He stared at it as if his mind wandered. A scrap of blue fabric tied to a gorse bush.

  He dismounted and studied the scrap. Simon wore a blue tunic, this very blue. The fabric was knotted, not hanging there as if the wind had blown it. Somebody had secured it there, on purpose. Simon. Clever, clever lad and stupid Gregory. He could have passed countless of these throughout the day and not seen them.

  He led the horse as he scoured the area for more signs.

  * * * *

  Faye dared not sleep.

  Simon had surrendered to exhaustion, his weight limp against her, his head drooping over his ch
est.

  Full dark surrounded them, the trees too dense for her to see the night sky. The noise around the fire increased and drowned the sounds of the forest.

  The boy had produced a flask of mead. Odo wrested it from him and now they passed the flask between them.

  Will gripped his crotch and grinned at her, saliva gleaming on his thick lips. He sat with the others and shared the mead, but he waited, coiled and tense, for Odo to give him permission to do his worst. Every time she moved Will’s leer fastened on her. She rested her head against the tree trunk. Tiredness weighed at her limbs, but she must stay awake. Her prayer became a litany she said over and over in her mind. The fire blurred before her exhausted vision. She blinked and shook her head.

  A shout from the fire and Faye started.

  Simon stirred and wakened. “Mama?”

  “Hush, sweeting.”

  Ham shook his head, staggered a few steps and collapsed into a heap beside his rocky seat.

  The others laughed at him.

  Odo surged to his feet and kicked the man’s boots. “Drunken sot.”

  Ham twitched and stilled.

  Odo tipped the flask to his mouth and swigged.

  “Odo.” The thin man swayed in his seat. With a sigh, he dropped over backward. “My head. Dizzy.”

  Odo whirled and stared at the second fallen man. He stumbled and stood, swaying and blinking. “Not right,” he said, his words thick and slurred. “Something not right.”

  Faye held her breath, not wanting to look away from Odo.

  He shook his head and fell to his knees. “The mead.” The earthen flask slipped from his grasp and shattered against a rock surrounding the fire. Mead hit the flame in a hiss and a flare.

  “What did you do?” Odo glared at the boy. With a growl, Odo dropped face forward into the dirt. Close enough to be singed by the blaze. The reek of burning hair filled the clearing.

  Will groaned, blinked and gripped his head between his hands. “What?”

  “Dwale, you dumb ox.” The boy grinned.

  Faye’s head felt woolen. Nurse sometimes used dwale to give relief from pain and help the suffering to sleep, but only as a desperate effort, for it killed the drinker as often as healed them. The boy had drugged his companions. If she could only think, she could make some sense of this.