Then he looked again and saw more disturbances in the roof thatch. The pieces of the puzzle all came together. Clara had slipped out of her hut in the night to visit Rowena. ’Twould explain Clara’s obvious fatigue today, if she’d been out all night.
Silently berating himself for not waking up when this was happening, Kenneth turned. Above, on the battlement that trimmed the top of the keep’s bailey wall, was a lookout. ’Twas rarely used, for it looked down on the center of the village. The other sentry points watched over the road to Colchester and the road that headed north. There was no need to guard the middle.
Tonight, however, he would see that a sentry was placed there to watch this side of the village. Nay, better that he be here lying in wait for her himself! He pulled the bench on which he’d been sitting into the shade of a large tree at the far edge of Clara’s garden. He’d sit there tonight and watch as she slipped through the thatch.
A thought came to him. He’d noticed a mackerel sky when he’d spoken to Margaret today. The small scaly clouds marked the beginning of days of rain, and wind had already shifted to come from the north. Bad weather was imminent.
A short time later, when Kenneth was pacing the garden path deep in thought, Brindi poked her freshly scrubbed head out of the door. Her hair was still damp but tightly braided, and her face shone with rosy, clean cheeks. “Clara and I are so clean, we squeak like new leather!” she announced with her usual cheer. Her plight inside was forgotten.
Despite knowing Clara’s subterfuge, he laughed. “Good!” he said as he entered to find Clara tidying up as the remains of his pottage warmed over the fire. “I was noticing the sky earlier and I fear rain is due,” he said mildly. “We will have days of it, I’m sure.”
Clara looked up at him, alarm blossoming on her face. She hastily covered it with a calmer expression. “’Tis true. I also saw the sky. I hope ’twill not be heavy rain. It makes everything damp.”
“True. We may be stuck in your home for days.” He shot her a sideways glance but she did nothing to warrant concern. Would she risk another visit to Rowena? With the possibility of days of rain hanging over them, could she even dare leave the girl alone?
The sky clouded fast that evening, Kenneth noticed as he volunteered to close up the chicken coop. Dusk threatened to be a gray, dismal affair. ’Twas an evening to stay by the fire, and he hoped that Clara would relent to the fatigue she must now feel, having been awake the night before. As they ate the small meal in silence and Kenneth watched Brindi’s eyelids droop, he hoped that Clara would do what he suspected she would—sleep now and rise in the middle of the night to visit Rowena before the rains began.
’Twas a risk, assuming that Clara might retire early and sleep a bit before sneaking out. But ’twas a risk he would take. There were plenty of people who napped in the evening, only to rise later to stoke fires, attend midnight services at the chapel or even take in a small meal. ’Twas more a custom in Normandy than here, but was not unheard of, even in small villages such as Little Dunmow.
Clara smothered a yawn, as did Brindi, prompting Kenneth to comment, “You’re both tired tonight.”
“Thank you for noticing. Aye, Brindi and I will be off to bed shortly.”
“Go now. I’ll tend the fire and tidy up.” He set the basket of bread down close to the curtain that separated the rooms and busied himself with the remaining chores. If she did as he suspected, she would wait for him to fall asleep and then take this bread to Rowena. He may as well make it easy for her.
Although Brindi complained about the early bedtime, the pair disappeared into the bedchamber. Kenneth banked the fire, deftly leaning a large log across the hearth to block Clara’s view through the fire to the main room of the hut. He then pulled out the blanket he used for sleeping. Quietly, he peeled off his outer tunic and rolled it and his cloak into a long form on the table where he slept. He covered the entire roll with a blanket. Then, satisfied that it resembled his sleeping form, he silently escaped the hut.
The wind had died, but the sky was low, and with no moon or stars to light the village, Kenneth had to wait quietly in the dark for the sentry on the battlement to light torches at the corners. He stood near the trees that separated Clara’s yard from the next one and rubbed his arms. Without his cloak, he felt the evening chill seep quickly into his bones.
In due time, he heard what he’d hoped to hear—soft scraping. When he stood and walked to the corner of the hut, he watched, eyes widening, as Clara stuck her foot out the section of thatched roof that he’d noticed had been disturbed. His gaze dropped to where the bench normally sat. What if she gave up when she couldn’t find her foothold? Hastily and quietly, he returned the bench, but a mischievous impulse had him set it so she wouldn’t immediately drop to it.
Then he stepped back into the trees and stayed stock-still.
Her leather-clad foot searched around to find the solid purchase of the seat, around and around, until Kenneth struggled to contain his mirth.
Clara was a capable horsewoman. She had grace and strength and dignity, but tonight, in the light of the sentry torches high above, she was quite the opposite as she swung her foot wildly around. Finally, after catching the edge with her toe, she shoved out her other foot and slid not so quietly down the daub wall to the ground, her cyrtel riding upward until she was secure on the earth and could pull it down.
She immediately looked around for the bench he’d moved. Finding it slightly to one side, she muttered something he didn’t catch. He shouldn’t have moved it, for anything that discouraged her trip to see Rowena lessened his chance to find the girl. But he’d given in to the whim of the moment and allowed a wide grin to split his face.
Ahead, Clara reached in through the thatch to help her sister climb out.
“Where’s the bench?” Brindi asked far too loudly as she, too, tried to step onto it.
“Shh!”
“But we’ll need it to climb back in!”
“Be quiet! It’s here, and we’ll move it back in a moment.”
Kenneth swallowed hard to stop a snicker from rising. This was far too serious a situation to give in to humor. ’Twas just amusing to watch them. They hadn’t a clue he was standing so close.
The pair stepped out into the lane that divided the village from the keep. Kenneth watched them while putting a decent amount of space between them. They hurried toward the road to Colchester before he began to follow at a safe distance, keeping close to the homes so he could duck behind one should the need arise.
Clara stopped at the edge of the forest, and Kenneth could see her peering down the tree-darkened road. He closed some of the distance, stopping at the blacksmith’s house, for it was the last one before the forest. Somewhere behind him, in the village, a dog barked out a warning. Normally ’twas nothing but scents on the wind that excited dogs, but tonight, something had triggered a nervous reaction from the animal.
Kenneth tilted his head as he peered at Clara and Brindi, several feet ahead. Then distant flickers of light dancing through the trees snagged his attention. He cocked his head, hearing a low thunder of hooves increase.
Increase quickly, he noted.
He had but a heartbeat of time to react. Whatever group was charging through the forest toward them would not see Clara and Brindi until it was too late. Dread filled him at who might be blazing through the night toward Dunmow.
He rushed forward, grabbing Brindi at the waist as he ploughed an alarmed Clara into the trees and bushes that encroached on the village. They all fell with a thud and even though Kenneth hoped that the force knocked the wind and words from both sisters, he still ordered a harsh, “Quiet! Not a word nor movement!”
For once, Clara and Brindi obeyed. Still and silent, they lay in one heap. Clara and Kenneth turned their heads around just as the charge of horses came to a swift halt nearby.
A man’s voice rang out in the damp night air as one horse, larger than the others, stamped and kicked up one foot. “What is
it? Why have you stopped?”
“Something dashed across the road in front of us, Lord Baron,” another rider answered.
The baron turned his horse around, and in the torchlight ’twas easy to see foam on the bridle from the hard ride. Again, the horse kicked out his foot and danced. The baron tore off his helmet and spat out a nasty word at the edgy animal. The torches that several of the men carried showed a hard expression on his sharply featured face.
“’Twas probably just a deer,” he finally snapped. “Listen. It has set a dog barking. Dunmow Keep is ahead. Ride forward and demand they open the gate for me immediately! I have no wish to run my courser anymore. There is something wrong with its shoe.”
The Norman soldier in the lead turned his horse. “Aye, Lord Taurin,” he said before he galloped away.
Chapter Eleven
Clara gasped. Immediately, Kenneth’s hand pressed firmly against her mouth. She could hear Brindi hiccup, but thankfully, the girl remained still, and the men heard nothing over the panting of the horses and the chink of chain mail.
Through the bushes, Clara watched the men ride away. About ten of them, two of whom carried torches, galloped up the road that led to the bailey gate. Shouts followed, and within a few breaths, torches lit up the parapet and the gate creaked opened.
She felt, rather than heard, Kenneth sag with relief. He’d startled her when he’d come from nowhere and plowed her into the brush. His one command had come with such urgency that she and Brindi had swiftly obeyed. She was glad for her sudden obedience. Now he eased away from her. After standing, he pulled her up and out of the low growth of ivy and shrubs that skirted the taller trees and had hid them from view. She turned and helped Brindi out. Kenneth stepped beside the overgrowth, but kept back enough to appear part of the shadows. Clara did the same with Brindi in tow behind her.
“’Twas Lord Taurin!” she hissed. “How did you know? How did you get here so quickly?”
Kenneth pulled her farther into the shadows of the forest. “Shh! I didn’t know who was coming, I just heard the sound of horses. In fact, due to the king’s curfew that many of your fellow Saxons feel they need to break, I expected ’twould be thieves coming to raid the village.” Beside her, he stared at the keep. The bailey gate shut tight behind the travelers, and the extra torches on the parapet were extinguished. “I wasn’t expecting Lord Taurin this time of night any more than you were.”
“What should we do? He’s here because Lord Eudo has told him where he sent me! He’s here for us!”
“We don’t know that.”
She huffed out her disbelief. “Oh, so he’s traveling at night because he prefers to, and thought he’d come to pay his respects to Lord and Lady Dunmow? Next, you’ll tell me he’s on his way to Ely to talk some sense into that Hareward the Wake because the man plans to fight King William!”
She waited for Kenneth’s response to her sarcasm, but when it came, it brought what she feared most. “Nay, Clara. I expect he is here for you. But I read Lord Eudo’s missive to his brother. I cannot see how he would simply give away the truth of your whereabouts. Lord Eudo doesn’t trust Lord Taurin, nor would he want his brother put into the danger Lord Taurin brings with him.”
“Then who else would tell?”
Kenneth turned, and though the night was deep, she could easily recognize the scorn in his dark eyes. “Your fellow Saxons, I expect. Those guild masters didn’t want you to remain in Colchester for fear Lord Taurin and King William would discipline the entire town for your actions. What would they do if they felt threatened?”
Clara bit her lip at the question. She had to agree with him. Lord Eudo and his brother were very close. One would certainly not endanger the other. But the guild masters were more worried about their town than about a pair of Normans. If Taurin had come with writ from the king for her arrest and Rowena’s capture, many of them would reveal where she’d been sent in a heartbeat.
Tears stung her eyes. Her own people, those guild members who’d accused her of risking their safety to save a fool girl who’d been sold into slavery. They cared naught for a young woman. And they cared naught for Clara.
Nay, she’d done the right thing helping Rowena and would stand by her decision. When they’d first met, Rowena was scared and needed a friend. She’d been terrified of Taurin, and after viewing the man’s face just now, Clara found herself shivering with fear. He was thin and dark, and an ugly scar divided the edge of his right brow and cheekbone. His dark hair glistened with grease and sweat, and his lips had curled when he spoke.
Last night, she’d questioned the wisdom of hiding Rowena, for the damp hut was hardly good for her or her babe. But now, seeing Taurin for herself, she’d never felt more confident in her decisions.
She reached into the bushes to retrieve the bundle of food she’d planned to take to Rowena. “How did you know I was here?” she asked Kenneth.
“I was following you.”
Clara straightened. “I checked on you. You were sleeping. I wasn’t loud enough to awaken you.”
“Nay, my outer tunic and cloak were sleeping, but not me. I waited for you in the shade of a tree. I was the one who moved the bench.”
Heat splashed into her cheeks. He’d been watching her sneak out in the most graceless fashion possible, hose and under tunic bared to his view. “How did you know the way I’d sneak out?”
“While you two bathed, I noticed that someone had scuffed up the daub wall and realized ’twas a way you could slip out.”
She pulled a face as she stared him down. He wore braes, and a belt cinched at his trim waist pulled in his plain, lightweight shirt. Only then did she notice he’d folded his arms. ’Twas not only because he was defiant. He was probably cold.
She drew her sister closer. “What should we do now?”
“Take me to Rowena. You were headed there, anyway.”
“Nay! The fewer people who know where she is, the better and safer ’tis for her.”
“Safer? We’re expecting rain soon. So unless she’s snug in a warm house with a fire and furs, she will be safe from assault but she won’t be healthy. She’s in a damp place, isn’t she?”
“How would you know that?”
He kept his arms folded. “I smelled moss and damp on you early this morning on the way to the chapel. It confused me at first, but then I realized that while there is no moss here in Dunmow, there is in the forest, and the farther east you go, the damper it gets. We are three leagues from Colchester, about ten miles, and the distance has many damp spots along the way.”
She held up her hand, hoping it would not shake. “I will say nothing more on the matter. No one, not you, nor Lord Taurin, will be able to force the location from me, even if you threaten to kill me!”
“Fool woman! Your death would only bring on Rowena’s death!”
Brindi gasped beside her but Clara stood firm. She would not be intimidated, though the threat was real. If she died, what would happen to Rowena? Brindi may try to help, but she was a child herself.
Your death would cause the deaths of both Rowena and her babe. You promised to God and your aunt never to willfully do that.
Her head hurt and she fought back the growing headache.
Lord, give me a way to save Rowena and her babe.
Kenneth took the hand she still held up. “Come, we’ll return to your house.”
“Nay!” She stepped back. “What if Lord Taurin comes?”
“Lord Taurin will do little tonight. He expects the village to be fast asleep. Besides, Lord Adrien will protect you.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he held up his hand. “Do not argue. I will see that you are protected. But I can’t guarantee that you won’t be called into the keep to answer questions. And if you aren’t in the village on the morrow when they look for you, ’twill only go poorly for you when you’re found. And you will be found.”
He paused, then, abruptly, he took her shoulders to emphasize his point. She could f
eel his hands on her, full of warmth that belied his lightweight clothing and the cool night air. She could hear the worry in his voice when he spoke to her. She shut her eyes. All she wanted in that moment was to have him tell her all would be well.
He tipped his head close, and as she opened her eyes, she fully expected him to brush his lips against hers, even in Brindi’s presence. Instead, he chose to speak. “Trust me, Clara. Just this once.”
Oh, she wanted to! Yet could she? “How? You can’t stop Lord Taurin, especially if he comes with orders from King William. You can’t make him stop this search for Rowena!”
“Nay, by myself, I cannot. But I trust God, and I know He loves all, even Rowena. He will protect her.”
She wanted to share his confidence, but what if God believed as Kenneth did? “You didn’t give your word never to harm anyone. You didn’t promise a young mother and son that they would be safe. My aunt made me promise God I would never allow harm to come to the people in my care. What am I worth if my promises are so easily discarded when things became difficult?”
Tears burned again in her eyes, and she fought them back. “Have you never had your pledges tested? Do you know what that’s like?”
* * *
Kenneth felt his lips thin.
Have you never had your pledges tested?
She had no idea how much his pledge to Lord Adrien was being tested. He’d promised he would find Rowena and the babe to turn them over to Lord Taurin. He still believed the babe was better off with his father, but his pledge to use Clara to find mother and son was being so sorely tested it hurt his belly. Surely the Good Lord didn’t like how Kenneth considered scheming and bullying to discover Rowena’s location.
Clara had pledged to God she would keep all under her care as safe as possible. To her, that meant keeping Rowena and her babe hidden. Was it right for him to force her to revoke her promise to God so he could fulfill his?
Nay. The chaplain at the keep had said ’twas a sin to cause your fellow Christian to stumble.
Protected by the Warrior Page 11
