Protected by the Warrior

by Barbara Phinney

  He set his interwoven hands down at the mare’s belly, and without hesitation, Clara stepped into them to mount. Neither animal had a saddle, but both were bridled and ’twas all she needed. She accepted the reins as she looped one arm around her little sister. Brindi was quiet and half asleep, and with the sense of urgency racing around Kenneth, Clara was glad that the girl was too sleepy to complain.

  Indeed, feeling the tension in the drizzly predawn morning, she could not bring herself to remind Kenneth that she didn’t need to show him how well she rode.

  “Follow me,” he said, kicking his heels into the horse’s sides to urge the beast forward. They trotted onto the road and away from the village, quickly covering the distance of open field to the north of the keep.

  Clara had traveled this way before a few times, for there were several landowners and a miller less than a mile north, and they’d dealt with a fever a few weeks ago. There was also an old watchtower. Was Kenneth taking them there?

  Nay. Before the forest began again, Kenneth stopped. He dismounted as he spoke. “I dare not go to the watchtower, for ’tis common knowledge that people hide in it. I don’t want to go as far as the gristmill, either. There is no point in putting the miller and his family at risk.”

  “At risk? What has happened? Has Lord Taurin hurt someone? I should be at the keep, then.”

  “Nay, Clara. The keep is the last place you should be. Taurin has not hurt— Nay, ’tis not true, for he smacked Rypan last night. The boy is fine. I brought us here because Taurin plans to search the homes in the village at daybreak. To search for you.”

  “Search? Kenneth, you promised me that Lord Adrien would not allow anything—”

  “Lord Adrien knows nothing of this, I am sure,” he interrupted her. “He’d already retired for the night when Harry overheard Taurin give the order to his men.”

  Clara dismounted and helped Brindi down. The girl’s eyes widened now that she was awake and listening. Clara led the mare closer to Kenneth. They tied the reins to a large apple tree at the edge of the woods, moving to tuck the animals in behind. “Have you been awake all night?”

  “Aye. There was much to do and I wanted us out of the village before the sky lightened.”

  Clara scanned the vista in front of them. The land rose slightly, offering them an expansive view of the village to the left and the keep ahead. Beyond, behind the village and forest, a pinkish sky reached through the light rain, barely enough to be seen yet. The day was still far off. She turned her attention to the keep. At the back end, the keep’s tall tower rose high, and she noticed that below, on the bailey wall, several torches were lit. Her heart stalled. ’Twas true, what Kenneth said? Taurin would defy Adrien’s authority and search the village for her?

  She bit her lip and drew her cloak in closer. It had dried overnight, and she was glad for its warmth. Brindi stepped close to her and she drew her sister into her arms, throwing one section of her cloak over Brindi’s thin shoulders.

  “Come, Clara. Sit by this tree. ’Tis dry here.”

  Clara and Brindi both obeyed and found the whole section between the tree and the ponies dry. ’Twas sheltered from the north wind that had driven last night’s rain, and the ground was littered with blossom petals. She leaned against the tree and shut her eyes. Kenneth eased his frame against the trunk on the opposite side and they all said nothing for a long moment.

  “I’m hungry,” Brindi announced.

  Clara was about to soothe her, for she had no desire to break open whatever foodstuffs Kenneth had brought with him. Before she could speak, Kenneth rose and tossed off his cloak.

  “Brindi, I promised you an apple. And here is an apple tree.”

  Clara looked up at him. “You’re addled from lack of sleep. ’Tis too early for apples. The tree has just lost its petals.”

  “Aye, but the apples have already formed.” He smiled at Brindi. “I will find the biggest and most perfect young apple and tie it with a leather thong so we can come back in the fall and know exactly where it is.”

  Pushing up and away from the trunk, Clara gaped at him as he grabbed a lower limb and swung his legs up like an acrobat. After hauling himself onto the branch, he began the difficult climb. The tree was old and in terrible need of pruning. It sat tall and ’twas thick with branches growing in every direction. ’Twas likely hard to squeeze between most of them. And the morning was barely light enough to see.

  “Let’s see here,” he began as he searched the small fruit. “Where’s the best one?”

  Dumbfounded, with her mouth sagging open, Clara watched Kenneth agilely move through the tree. ’Twas as if he were a young boy like Harry, acting foolish for a friend. All she could do was shake her head. He was only distracting Brindi from her hunger....

  Nay, Clara amended to herself as she watched him closely. He peered around, not for potentially perfect apples, but rather through the branches at the village down the slope.

  She turned and followed his gaze. And swallowed hard.

  The sky was considerably lighter now and ’twas easy to make out several soldiers moving about. Automatically, she confirmed that she and Brindi were safe and out of sight behind the trunk and that the ponies were also well hidden. One man on horseback waited on the road. Another carried a torch, but as the day grew, ’twould be less useful. Clara squinted, then gasped. The soldiers had dragged out the family beside her home and lined them up on the road. In the dreary morning, they’d not yet bothered to rise, and the woman’s blonde hair was easily seen even through the light rain. The family huddled together, the small children tucked in between the parents.

  One man indicated a height from the ground with the flat of his hand. Brindi’s height. They were describing Brindi! The Saxon threw up his arms as if arguing and—

  Clara gasped as one of the soldiers drew back and punched the man in the midriff. The Saxon fell forward. His wife rushed to his side, only to be shoved away.

  Above, Kenneth also startled at the harsh action and Clara stole a look up at him. Their gazes locked, but with Brindi now dozing at the base of the tree, she dared not say a word.

  Kenneth tore his gaze free first and returned to watching the scene unfolding below. Clara also watched as another horseman galloped out of the keep at the far end and up to the group of soldiers.

  “Who is that?” she dared to whisper.

  “’Tis Lord Adrien.”

  She bit her lip, daring not to ask if he’d joined the search.

  The men on horseback spoke, but at this distance, only the broadest of movements could be seen. Finally, Lord Adrien rode away, followed by Taurin. The foot soldiers gave up their search and followed.

  Clara could hear Kenneth’s sigh of relief. She craned her neck upward. “Come down. Never mind the apple. Something has happened.”

  He looked down at her. “Lord Adrien has ordered a stop to the search. And just at the right moment. One more house...” He didn’t finish his sentence.

  “We’re here, Kenneth. We’re safe.”

  “Still, I am glad I brought you up here.”

  Clara was more than glad. But...but what had just happened here? She watched him make his way down. Her heart pounded in her throat as she realized the truth of their situation.

  “You hid us.”

  “Aye. For your own good,” he answered as he dusted himself off and picked up his cloak again.

  “For my own good. To protect me from Taurin.”

  Fixing the brooches of his cloak, he frowned. She added, “As I have hidden Rowena.”

  His hands stalled. He swallowed. She could see his throat bob.

  She held his gaze, refusing to let it go. “You did exactly as I did. Can you still claim ’tis best to hand Rowena and her son over to Lord Taurin? Can you just simply say that we must trust that God will work this out and that we shouldn’t do anything when you did as you saw fit? Where is your faith now, Kenneth d’Entremont?”

  Chapter Thirteen

 
Clara’s words stabbed into Kenneth, their truth cutting like a double-edged sword.

  He was no better than Clara. Nay, he was worse, for he’d boasted that he would trust God with this terrible situation and then had simply done what he thought best. He slowly fastened his cloak, but ’twas as though it choked him. He couldn’t even argue with her that this was different, for ’twasn’t so. He’d made a decision without prayer or petition, not even warning those in Dunmow Keep about what Taurin planned. Of course, ’twas obvious Lord Adrien had learned of it in short order, no doubt from Harry, and had corrected Taurin’s assumption that he could blaze through the village as he saw fit.

  But still, Kenneth had found a solution and done only what he felt was right. How could he demand now that she tell him where Rowena was?

  And how could you not at least pray about this?

  The internal reproach squeezed his heart. Nay, he hadn’t even prayed for wisdom. He’d simply assumed he knew what was right.

  He grabbed the bundle he’d brought and led Clara’s mare out from its hiding place. “Let’s go,” he growled out.

  “Where?” Clara asked him.

  “Back to the hut. I’m tired and ’tis obvious that Lord Taurin will not be back searching the homes.” Refusing to listen to any argument she may have, Kenneth called sharply to Brindi before scooping her up to deposit her on the larger horse. “Get on, Clara,” he told her gruffly.

  Wordlessly, Clara accepted his help. After he mounted the smaller mare, they both began the trot back into Little Dunmow.

  At her home, Kenneth lifted Brindi off and ordered her inside. He turned to help Clara dismount, but she held the reins tightly. “What you did, ’twas not a bad thing, Kenneth.” Her voice softened, gently turning into the smallest reproach. “You protected us. Do not be so hard on yourself for not knowing sooner that Lord Taurin is truly evil. Learn from your mistakes.”

  “It is not Lord Taurin’s actions that upset me, but rather my own. I should have prayed about this. I have been telling you that you must trust God, and look at me. I’m no better than a hypocrite.”

  She reached out her hand and covered his as he stretched to help her down. “Kenneth, no, don’t think that way. ’Tis only hypocrisy if you do it again and again, and never see the truth. Don’t rebuke yourself for a lesson learned. Please don’t. ’Twill do no good to your soul or your stomach. I know. I have rebuked myself often for speaking when I should have been silent, and it has caused many ailments inside of me.”

  Her hand settled on his, forcing it down to the mare’s withers. He found it surprisingly warm. Aye, she’d been one to speak out of turn, far too often, but had she actually regretted such folly? Her words settled into him and, like her hand, they warmed him. And oddly, they comforted him.

  His heart stumbled a bit, for no reason but a foolish one of a beautiful woman touching him.

  He pulled back his hand. ’Twas just the moment of reproach that caused him to feel this way. Aye, just the moment and nothing more. He reached out to grab her, somewhat roughly, and brought her to the ground. Averting his eyes, he ordered her into the hut.

  “What about the mares?”

  Kenneth smacked both on their rumps and they trotted off toward the bailey gate, no doubt with warmth and food on their minds. Then, ignoring Clara’s questioning look, he grabbed her hand and pulled her into the hut.

  Inside, Kenneth hung up the cloaks and stoked the fire. He was dead tired, but with all that raced through his mind, he knew sleep would elude him.

  “We had begun those reading lessons,” Clara said softly. “Mayhap we can do them again? It’s not good to sleep the day away.”

  He jerked back. That offer to teach her to read had been a ploy to earn her trust and discover where Rowena was. His motives of a few days ago suddenly felt shameful.

  But along with being a hypocrite, would he also go back on his word? What about his promise to Lord Adrien to find the mother and child? Was he so dishonorable that he could discard that, as well?

  His stomach tightened. ’Twas not fair to Clara, but how could he rescind his offer? Or tell Lord Adrien he’d been unsuccessful in discovering where Rowena was?

  “You don’t really want to read, do you? ’Tis not necessary for midwifery. Besides, Brindi bested you during the last lesson.”

  “The previous midwife could write, and so should I also learn. And I am not intimidated by Brindi.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “’Tis the only reason?”

  Looking back at him, she shook her head too quickly. “Nay, though Brindi would be good at it. She is bright and learns quickly.” After a pause, her voice dropped. “’Tis for Rowena that I want to learn. She will need to know something, anything, if she is to be more than a slave. She can farm a bit, but she was sold into slavery too young to have learned much. As the last child, and a girl, she was discarded as nothing more than a waste of time and food. It tears me apart to think her parents believed that. ’Tis hardly a Christian way. But she will need something or she’ll die, for I cannot keep her hidden forever.”

  “You want to teach her to read?”

  “Aye, and do numbers. I can do some in my head, but to write them down would be wonderful. She’s so innocent now, almost foolish, but I know I can teach her many things.”

  He didn’t answer. He was dead tired and not nearly strong enough to deal with having Clara close.

  Abruptly, Clara said, “You’re tired. We should nap.”

  “Aye.” He turned away from her, lest she see more than just that. ’Twasn’t just the fatigue that weakened his self-control. He also did not like that neither of their solutions with Rowena was ideal. His would see Rowena handed to a brutal master, and hers would see a life of the girl looking over her shoulder.

  * * *

  A sharp pounding jolted Clara awake. She jumped and rose quickly, throwing open the curtain and finding Kenneth also rising from his bed. Before she could reach the door, he was there, his sword in his hand.

  “Who is it?” Kenneth barked out.

  “Me, Sergeant. Harry!” A pause followed. “And two of your men.”

  Kenneth opened the door. Daylight spilled into the room. Squinting, Clara could see ’twas late morning. Harry stood in front of two of the soldiers under Kenneth’s command. When she realized that all she wore was her under tunic, Clara stepped back behind the curtain. ’Twas likely that the men were there to see Kenneth and had no immediate need of her. Brindi turned in their bed, and as Clara threw on her cyrtel, she motioned to her sister to stay quiet.

  “What is it?” Kenneth demanded.

  “A message from Lord Adrien, sir,” the young boy said as Clara stepped back into the main room. She was decently dressed, but her hair was still loosely braided, and while she didn’t mind going bareheaded, she felt exposed as the young Norman soldiers behind Harry stared at her.

  “What’s the message?” Kenneth asked, stepping to the left to hide her from view. Suddenly, Clara felt her cheeks warm. She had only allowed Kenneth into her home because the small house had two rooms and he was ordered here to guard her.

  Now, though, the fact he was here felt far too personal.

  But necessary. Lord Taurin had prowled through the village before daybreak, and no doubt the message Harry conveyed had something to do with that.

  “Sir, Lord Adrien has ordered both of you to the Great Hall immediately.”

  Clara stepped forward. “Nay, I won’t go! Lord Taurin is there!”

  Harry frowned. “’Tis an order from Lord Adrien!”

  “Never mind,” Kenneth answered briskly. “Did Lord Adrien say anything else?”

  “Only that Clara is to wear this.” He held several pieces of material and chose one of them. “And not to say a single word from the moment she enters the bailey. All the women are to stay silent.”

  Clara reached past Kenneth to grab the light-colored garment. ’Twas a wimple, and judging by the quality, one of Lady Ediva’s older ones, fa
ded by the sun and basic in shape. And tailored to fit close to the head.

  Kenneth peered at the wimple, then back over to young Harry’s frowning face. “Just us?”

  “Brindi is to report to the kitchen to help the cook,” Harry answered. Then he shrugged. “Milord has ordered all the villagers into the Great Hall. All the women, even those with babes, must come. And also those from the road to Cogshale.”

  Cogshale? Wasn’t that the road they’d taken this morning?

  If he hadn’t been stopped, Taurin and his men would have ridden right up to them.

  Harry’s blank look at Clara’s realization showed that he had no idea why Lord Adrien had given such an odd command, but she knew. If Adrien was sending Harry out that far with these orders, ’twas likely that Taurin had planned to check the homes out there, also—the miller’s and the landowners’. She peeked up at the guards. They either did not understand Harry’s English or were as confused as Harry was. But in their hands were several other wimples and veils. Quite a few, Clara thought.

  “And,” Harry added, “the women are to dress modestly and the men are not to introduce any of them.” With that, the boy turned, split the two soldiers behind him and left.

  Kenneth closed the door. “An odd instruction indeed.”

  “Nay.” Her hand smoothed her hair as Brindi, now dressed, appeared from the bedchamber. “Since Lord Taurin is here to find me, what better way to hide me than in a hall full of women? And Lord Adrien suspects Lord Taurin would have visited all the homes, near and far, so he plans to present the same number of women.”

  Kenneth frowned. Then, as if a light dawned in his brain, he nodded and smiled. “And the wimple will hide your red hair. But you are the only redhead here, so why the other wimples?”

  “I suspect ’tis Lady Ediva’s idea. She will no doubt say she insists on modesty for all women, and to ensure it, extra wimples are being distributed, for some of the poorer folk may only have a kerchief.”

  “And when Lord Taurin looks out to a sea of beautiful young women, each modestly dressed, each wearing a similar wimple, ’twould not be good form for him to insist each woman remove her headdress.”