She squeezed the hand that was in hers. “Yes. Yes, Giles, I’m right here.”
“Good,” he mumbled. She leaned forward to hear his fading voice. “I told my mother about you.”
And then he was unconscious again. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she recalled what he had said. Both hands enfolded his hand she held; she bowed her head and prayed.
How much time passed she did not know when the stillness was broken by Lady Clysta, accompanied by Sir Thomas. The lady looked troubled. Still a smile played around her lips.
“My dear, I have been asked if we have word of a dangerous mercenary named Silverhawk, who swoops down upon his enemies and carries them off in the night. Do you know of any such frightening creature?”
Fear froze Emelin in place. “Why do you ask, my lady?”
“Because his squire has arrived. Sir Daviess conducted him to the kitchen where I believe the lad had an eye on the meat pasties Cook just baked.”
Giles traveled alone. Perhaps whoever sought him was trying a new trick. With a deep breath to calm her racing heart, Emelin asked, “And what is this squire’s name?”
“I believe he said it was Davy.”
Chapter Nineteen
There had been no squire with Giles when he’d been rescued from outlaws those long days ago. No Davy. Then she recalled the youth who seemed always underfoot at Langley. He’d been around the garden the night Giles carried her off. Was it he?
“Silverhawk, is it?” The older lady turned to her. “Would your knight be called by that name?”
She didn’t know what to say. Lady Clysta’s brow cleared, her eyes twinkled as she looked at Sir Thomas. “A hungry lad, is he? Bring him here after he’s eaten.”
When the captain left, she walked to the pallet where Giles lay. “Silverhawk. With eyes like his, I could understand the name. If, of course, it is the same man,” she hastened to add.
Emelin chose the wisest course of action. She kept her mouth shut. Chose instead to check the knot on the bandage, to pull the blanket higher on his chest.
“Don’t fidget, my dear,” the older lady murmured kindly. “It gives you away.”
Warmth spread up Emelin’s neck and cheeks. She raised her eyes, but the lady of Granville was studying Giles, who had moved his head to the side as if to follow their voices.
“Has he awakened?”
“Once, for a moment. Usually he is quiet until the bandage must be changed, then he tries to protect himself. Even unconscious, he’s aware of touch.”
As if prompted, he opened his eyes. His glance flicked from one woman to the other, fastening on Emelin like a lodestone. In a step she was at his side.
“I will bring you a drink.” She touched his forehead. “You’re not so hot as before. That’s good.”
He ran the tip of his tongue across dry lips and tried to speak. His voice was a ragged rasp. Lifting his head with one arm, she tilted a cup to his mouth. He drank it all, then managed to rasp, “Where?”
“We’re at Granville,” Emelin reassured him. “The men who found us were from here.”
“Are you…all right?”
She smiled at the often-repeated question. “I am well. You have been ill. The knife wound had a touch of infection, but it’s much better.”
He turned his eyes to the other side of the pallet.
“This is Lady Clysta,” Emelin told him. “She and her lord, Sir Daviess, have offered their hospitality.”
“Thank you.” The hoarse whisper sounded tired. Emelin touched his hand. He turned it up to clasp hers. His eyes closed again.
“I think he’s sleeping.” Did her voice sound as relieved as she felt? “Truly, he could have died, if not for Sister Ressa.”
The older lady nodded. “Yes, Ressa has been a Godsend these past weeks. We shall miss her when she leaves.”
The door burst open, and a boy of about twelve years dashed in still clutching a fragment of pasty.
“Lady Emelin.” He shoved the last bite into his mouth and swiped his crumb-laden palm down the side of his tunic. “I knew it had to be ’im,” Davy mumbled around the food as he took up vigil beside Giles. “Who else could strike down three armed outlaws and ’im with a dagger in ’is side?” His voice was full of pride.
Sir Thomas stood in the doorway. “So, your master is the famous Silverhawk, and this is him?”
“O’ course. I brought some things ’e left behind, too.” The lad looked right proud of himself, Emelin thought. Then the realization hit her. If a youngster could track them here, anyone could. Garley or Lord Osbert could be right behind.
They would see she got back to Langley.
They would kill Giles.
A cold chill gripped her and she shivered. “Davy, is it?” She caught his attention again. “How did you find us? Are the others far behind?”
“Naaw. No’but me. I followed Lord ’enry, but when I saw you’d left the trail, ’e said come ahead. ’E had to get ’ome.”
“Lord Henry allowed a child to fend for himself on the open road?” Emelin was incensed. “How could a knight be so unfeeling?”
Davy turned a red face toward her. “’E didn’t exactly tell me that.” The youth shuffled gangly feet, then stared at Giles.
Something didn’t ring true about his story. “Did he know you followed him?”
“Not exactly.” The lad had the courtesy to look shamefaced.
Chin lifted, arms crossed, Emelin caught Davy’s eye. “What ‘exactly’ did you do?”
His remorse evaporated in excitement. “That was some weddin’ of yours. Too bad you missed it. Thought the old lord’s moustache would pop a blaze, ’is face was so red when they couldn’t find you. They looked all o’er the place. When they decided you’d flown, ’e was all for callin’ out ever’ soldier there to track you down. Thought you was goin’ to do away with yourself.”
“Then why didn’t they follow?”
“That Sir Garley, ’e went lookin’ in the stables and askin’ around and Sam’l told. Said Silverhawk took off same time as you went missin’. Then Sir Garley—’e’s your brother, ain’t ’e? Well, we can’t choose our family. Anyway, ’e dragged old Lord Osbert aside, and when they come back, the lord sent some men out to track you. They took the south trail.”
Emelin had a hard time following Davy’s explanation, but one thing was clear. “You followed the men, didn’t you?”
Davy raised innocent eyes. “I never, milady. I followed Lord ’enry. ’E told Lord Osbert that ’e’d take care of gettin’ you back, a’cause ’e felt bad Silverhawk carried you off, ’im bein’ at fault for bringin’ a no-account mercenary along. Said ’e’d settle Silverhawk up fine.”
Mind spinning from the boy’s convoluted tale, she glanced at Lady Clysta. That lady was watching the interview with mouth ajar, amused wonder in her eyes. Sir Thomas stood in the doorway, arms folded across his chest. He didn’t look amused.
“I think we’ll save the rest of the explanation for later,” Emelin cautioned the boy. “As you can see, Sir Giles is wounded.”
“That’s what Sir Daviess told me. Three of ’em ’e took on to save you,” the lad said with relish. “I knew I was right to throw in with ’im. ’Ere.” He shoved a bag into her hands.
“Found this where you camped once. Lord ’enry thought you took the road to ’is home when ’e found the saddle you left. But I saw where you turned off and came a different way. I’m a good tracker.”
“Young Davy, do you mean to say you walked from Langley Castle?” Lady Clysta at last found her voice.
Without batting an eye, Davy said, “Oh, no, milady. I found a ’orse runnin’ loose.”
Emelin didn’t feel up to following that spike in the conversation. Later they could sort out what was true and what was not. She opened the bag. There it was—the ointment that had been lost, wadded in a shirt of Giles’. Praise Heaven. Giles swore by that salve. It would go on the next bandage she applied.
At last she
recalled herself and introduced Davy to Lady Clysta. With that twinkle still in her eyes, the lady insisted the lad needed another bite to eat and sent him off. The twinkle faded when she faced Emelin again.
“Your story sounds more serious than I thought,” she said. “This requires some straight talk.” She looked at the sleeping Giles. Her face softened. “First, we must move this dangerous man out of here.”
Emelin’s stomach sank. What did Granville’s lady intend?
“Sir Thomas, have four of your men take Sir Giles inside. There’s a small chamber we once used for storage on the top floor. Put him there.”
Emelin closed her eyes in relief. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. We haven’t decided what must be done.”
It didn’t take long to settle Giles in the new location. Emelin followed, fearful they would do him harm as they moved him. He didn’t help matters. As they bound him to a small plank gate for ease of carrying, he awoke and insisted he could walk. When the quartet refused to allow him to rise, he began to struggle.
Emelin had only to announce that Davy was here with the salve, and Giles stilled.
“Was he alone? How did he locate us? What news did he bring?” Questions rolled from his tongue like water over a rock. “Let me up, damn you.” That was directed at the burly soldier carrying the top of his portable pallet. The man had the audacity to grin at him, but the grin was a jolly one.
“Ye jest sit tight, Sir Giles. Have ye stowed away in no time. Carl’ll be right knackered he missed ye. And here I was raddled t’ be left behind. Ain’t no king’s man can beat meetin’ the Silverhawk, and that’s a fact.”
His eyes crisp and sharp Giles said, “What king’s man?” Then, “Satan’s backside, watch that step, man, you’ll break your leg.” Emelin hid a smile at his whispered mutters as the plank jerked a’right. She’d bet her best chemise he was swearing.
“Don’t complain,” she urged as she walked at his side. “This way there’s less chance you’ll damage what healing has taken place.”
Giles rolled his eyes and clenched his jaw. Indignation at being carried like a child rolled off him in waves. But he was quiet. And that was a surprise.
The chamber was tiny and dark, with no opening other than the door. A brazier had just been lit, the chill still prevalent as Giles was placed on a mattress-covered pallet. Lady Clysta stood in the corridor with Emelin. Until the men left, there was no room for anyone else inside.
“He will be more comfortable here, and out of the way should we have visitors. I’ll have a small table and some candles sent up.”
Emelin nodded. “Thank you. You’ve been very kind. I just hope we haven’t put you in danger.”
“As to that, you must join my husband and me in the solar very soon. We should discuss what to do.”
Once everyone had gone, Emelin stood beside Giles. His eyes were closed. The pain of movement must have worn him out and he slept. That was good. The more he rested, the faster he would recover. With efficient movements, she replaced the bandage. On the new pad, she loaded a glob of the ointment Davy had retrieved. Pulling a blanket up to his shoulders, she brushed her lips against his forehead. Time to face her hosts. She only hoped they were as kind and understanding as they looked.
****
Soft lips stroked his skin. Giles caught the light scent of Emelin as she leaned over him. Then she was gone. His head rang like a brass gong struck with a mallet; his side throbbed the beat. God’s blood, he hated this feeling of helplessness. He sucked in a breath and exhaled evenly. Once. Again. The tense muscles of his chest and legs relaxed.
He was not a good patient, never had been. Still, his mind was clear. The trip across the quiet bailey had revealed much about Granville. There was no sound of training, no clatter that hummed around an armed encampment like minstrels’ music at a lord’s banquet. No king’s man was here with his entourage. Nor was this lord preparing for a mysterious sortie, as Langley was.
King’s man. What had that soldier who nearly dropped him said? Something about being left behind. So Lord Paxton had been here already. And it sounded as if he took some of Granville’s men with him. He’d told Lord Osbert he would warn the holdings he passed, not recruit soldiers. What was he up to? None of Langley’s fighters had accompanied him. Why would he need men now?
The story about brokering peace with Scotland made less and less sense. Damnation. Giles was slipping. If he hadn’t been distracted by landing at his father’s front gate, he would have realized it sooner.
His father, the lord of Langley. That thought led naturally to his beautiful mother, who had slipped away believing her love would return. Even as she died, she looked up, held out a hand and said, “You’ve come.”
All she’d left her son was a medallion that had belonged to his father. It had taken a score of years to track down where that medallion came from. Of course, he hadn’t searched at first. His gran’père passed not long after, and Giles had no intention of going to an aunt who would berate him as a bastard. Better he make his own way.
So he skulked the streets of Cambrai. He performed jobs for food when he could, and when he could not—pilfered. No, call it by its right name. He stole. When he was hungry, he took food. When he was cold, the extra cloak some drunken fool had overlooked at an inn.
Until one day, he took from the wrong man. As it turned out, it was the right man. For when Giles sidled up to a horse to nab a fat pack from its saddle, the long arm of Mercadier had plucked him up. Damn. He remembered as if it were yesterday. The young Giles had folded his arms across his skinny chest and narrowed his eyes at the fearsome knight before him. If he were to be hanged as a thief, he’d go like a man.
Years after, Mercadier said he’d been taken aback by the fighting spirit of the scrawny youth who tried to rob him. So much so, the mercenary took the homeless youngster along when he rode out the next day. Since then, Giles had been Mercadier’s man. Later, he’d earned his own place as a captain in the famous band of mercenaries that served King Richard.
He groaned. He had to get back to his post as quickly as possible. Richard’s truce with France’s King Philip was as solid as a pudding, as lasting as ice in July. If enemies fostered unrest in England, that added front in Richard’s war could be fatal. Giles must do what he could to thwart the traitors. Especially as he’d landed in the heart of the plot.
The pain in his side had eased. He adjusted the position of his shoulders and prepared to rest. He needed to recoup his strength. More than likely, Davy had been followed. He’d barely found a comfortable spot when the door eased open and a shadow darted inside.
“Ssssst, Silverhawk, y’wake?”
“Davy? What are you doing here?”
“Don’t a squire go where ’is master goes?” came the pert reply.
The lad eased to the pallet and peered at him. “I thought you might could use a ’and. ’Sides, it’s gettin’ strange at Langley. Lots of soldiers comin’ in, and Lord Osbert’s not even lookin’ for Lady Emelin. Neither’s ’er brother. Now there’s a mean one, I tell you. But I never said a word when they asked about the night the lady disappeared. Sam’l was wantin’ to get in good with the lord, so ’e told. But I fixed ’im afore I left. ’E’s got a empty space where ’is front tooth should be.”
When the boy paused for breath, Giles asked, “No one is searching for Lady Emelin?” Surely Davy got it wrong. Lord Osbert’s pride wouldn’t let another bride slip away.
“Sent out two men’s all.” Davy sounded indignant. “’E was all set to go ’imself, but the lady’s brother talked ’im out of it. Don’t know what was said, but the old man didn’t look too ’appy. Still, ’e did what Sir Garley said.”
Giles had a bad feeling about the activities at Langley. More soldiers being added meant someone intended to fight. What they planned, however, wasn’t a defensive action. Did Lord Osbert or Sir Garley lead them? Perhaps they worked together.
That damned Paxton, w
hoever in Hell’s kingdom he was. Supposed to be a peacemaker, but in no hurry to get to Scotland, not if he was gathering men as he went.
To fight for his country? That’s what the burly guard had said.
Was it possible Paxton didn’t intend to meet with Scotland’s king? Did he intend to attack England’s shaky ally? God’s blood. He rose up on an elbow, ignoring the twinge in his side.
“Did you happen to see Lord Henry before you left?”
Davy smirked in self-congratulation. “Trailed ’im north. ’E figured you was goin’ to Chauvere. But I caught sight of your trail in the woods and followed that.”
“You couldn’t have followed our trail here.” He leveled a look at Davy. “A squire is always honest with his master. How did you find me?”
A smile wreathed the thin face. “I’m your squire, then? You tellin’ true?”
Lips set in a grim line, Giles raised a brow.
“Oh. Sorry.” He didn’t look the least repentant. “I asked at the cottages I passed. The last one said you was lookin’ for Granville Castle. The old woman set me on the right road, and ’ere I am.”
A stealthy sound at the door stopped all conversation. Both watched as it cracked open and a kitten shot inside, followed by a small, tousled girl.
“Come back, Dammit,” she whispered to the animal, then stopped cold when she saw Giles and Davy staring.
“Oh,” she said with obvious disappointment, brushing at a blond curl that tickled her nose. “Yer awake. I was s’posed to watch you. Now I have to go back to work.”
With a groan, Giles eased down on the fresh-smelling mattress. Plagued with children. And a cat.
Cats made him sneeze.
From the moment he set foot on this cold, inhospitable island, nothing had gone as it should.
How had he lost control of his life?
Chapter Twenty
“Let me up or you’ll be sucking Satan’s teat.”
The two burly guards smiled in awe at the newest creative threat. Still, they shook their heads.
Silverhawk Page 19
