by Jody Hedlund
“A ransom, of course.”
“And . . .”
“And that he pledge his loyalty to the king.”
“If he does not?”
“Lord Pitt will attack him again.”
A cold dread seized me at the prospect of Lord Pitt inflicting any more pain upon my family. What else could he do except . . .
“Next time he will go after your brother, Charles.” Sir Aldric spoke gravely, as if he’d heard my thoughts.
I shook my head. “But he’s sick—”
“Which is why Lord Pitt showed mercy on your father by taking you and your sister.”
I collapsed against my bedroll. I couldn’t stop icy fingers from creeping around my heart. I’d been so sure Father would ride after us and attempt to regain our freedom, that he’d pay the ransom, that he’d do whatever he could to protect me and Izzy.
But if he was forming an alliance with other Marcher barons to rise up against the king, would he rescue us or would he sacrifice us as part of the cost of war?
I shook my head. Father was loyal to his family. He’d do whatever it took to gain our release. He’d not only do it because he loved us but because he wanted to keep Charles from becoming the next target. In Charles’s weakened condition, captivity would kill him.
Surely Father wasn’t so opposed to the king that he would refuse to turn from plotting rebellion.
Even as I sought to defend my father, I couldn’t scatter my suspicions. Words Father had spoken over the years whispered at the back of my mind—his displeasure over the way the king treated the Marcher barons, for calling upon them last when in need of defenses, for allowing so few of them to court, for accusing them of having mixed blood from intermarrying too often with the Welsh.
What would happen to Izzy and me if Father decided not to comply with Lord Pitt’s demands?
I closed my eyes, not wanting to think about the possibility. I could sense Sir Aldric watching me, but I turned my face away from him. If he hoped to sway me against my father, he was mistaken. He was my family. I would do whatever I had to for him, even if I had to sacrifice myself in the process.
Chapter
6
I was keenly aware of Sir Aldric’s hand upon my waist, much more this new day than I had been the previous eve. I was also keenly aware of his broad chest against my back.
When he’d lifted me into his saddle at break of dawn, I’d protested. But as he slid up behind me and encircled me, I found my breath and my protest cut off by his nearness. I told myself my easy acquiescence had more to do with his nighttime revelations and my growing sympathy for him than with his handsome presence.
Before leaving camp, he’d taken off the chain that had bound us. But I knew from yesterday, I wouldn’t have any chance of escaping, at least not while hemmed in by Sir Aldric atop his horse.
With each passing hour, I grew more attuned to his movements, to the places his body pressed against mine, and to the steady rise and fall of his breathing.
The day was gray with the dampness of rain hanging in the air. The slightly cooler temperatures made the ride less tiresome. Even though I was sore from traveling, I found myself in better spirits than yesterday.
Izzy rode her own horse not far behind me with the young knight, Sir Darien, constantly by her side. Though at first I’d been irritated that Sir Aldric had made the arrangement for the knight to attend Izzy, I saw the wisdom in it now. He acted as a personal bodyguard more than a jailor, and I could rest assured she was safe. Sir Darien’s flattery and adoration were harmless. And Izzy was as innocent and unaware, as usual, of the effect she had on men.
While I never stopped plotting how I might save her from this captivity, I found myself relaxing in the knowledge that Sir Aldric and his men meant us no harm—at least for now.
Throughout the morning, we talked of mostly inconsequential things—like our experiences with hunting and hawking. Although Sir Aldric never boasted, I could tell he was every bit as skilled a hunter as he was commander.
“Ahead is Bevins of Lowdown,” he said. “An excellent boar hunting ground.”
On the horizon loomed a heavily wooded forest with dogwoods all along the edge. The sight of the forest confirmed what I’d suspected—that we were nearing Lord Pitt’s land. Once we crossed over, I would lose any remaining chance of escape.
“You need to plan a boar hunt soon, Sir Aldric,” I said. “And since I have never gone, you must allow me to accompany you.”
He leaned in slightly and his breath brushed my temple. “If I plan a hunt, how do I know you’ll not run away the first chance you have?” His voice rumbled softly so that my belly turned over in a strange flip.
“You may chain me to your personage again.”
“I fear I may need to chain you close at all times regardless of where we are or what we are doing.”
“Would that be so terrible, sir?” I tried to keep my voice light.
His strong jaw brushed against the side of my head with such gentleness I couldn’t keep from sucking in a breath. I suspected he hadn’t meant anything by the gesture, that with our proximity such touches were inevitable. Even so, I’d never been so near to a man. I found that every contact only made me more aware of him.
His hand at my waist shifted, his fingers parting as though to hold me more securely. For a second I could feel his heartbeat thudding against my back as I waited for his answer with more anticipation than I should have. Why did it matter whether Sir Aldric liked my companionship or not? Soon enough he would deliver me to Lord Pitt, and I’d likely never see him again, except perhaps at a distance.
“Does your silence mean you find my presence intolerable?” I persisted in a teasing voice even though my body was suddenly on edge.
“You are not so difficult to tolerate, my lady.” His response was low and rumbling.
I expelled a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding, a strange pleasure stealing through me.
“Does Lord Clearwater tolerate you?” he asked, his mouth near my ear, which only fanned the pleasure.
“Of course he more than tolerates me,” I bantered. Although I’d had a fair share of suitors over the past year, including Lionel, I’d never met anyone who affected me like this man.
“Do you care for him?” Sir Aldric asked.
“He is a fine man.” I forced my thoughts onto the fair-haired young Lord Clearwater who had visited several months ago. We’d seldom spoken together privately. Even if he was brusque and a rather hard man, he’d been congenial and attentive to me. He’d struck me as purposeful and determined, much like my father. “Once we spend more time together, we shall develop affection for one another.”
“And pray tell what you will do if you’re already betrothed to him when you discover his true nature?”
Sir Aldric’s words from last night taunted me. Lionel is a scoundrel like his father. Truthfully, I didn’t know the marquess or his son well enough to determine their character. But I had heard rumors regarding Lionel, particularly of his unfair treatment of the bondsmen in service to him.
“I suppose you are referring to the old bondsman he sent off his land because the man could no longer do the work required of him?”
“I hadn’t heard that tale,” Sir Aldric replied. “The stories I’ve heard about Lionel are not quite so tame or kind.”
“You exaggerate, sir, and take pleasure in goading me.”
“I would not goad you about this, my lady,” he spoke in a deadly calm tone.
Even if Lionel was ruthless and calculating at times, that had nothing to do with me, did it? Besides, I was strong enough that a man like that wouldn’t bend me. “My father would not consider the match if he believed I would be unhappy in it.”
“He wouldn’t consider it if he believed he wouldn’t profit from it.”
“You do not know my father.”
“He seeks to increase his wealth and power in whatever way suits him.”
At his harsh accus
ation, I stiffened and sat forward. “Your forthrightness is not welcome. I would that you refrain from speaking ill of my father.”
“I hadn’t taken you for a coward, my lady.”
“You are correct. I am no coward.”
“If you’re unwilling to confront the truth and tolerate only what titillates your ears, then you’re indeed a coward.” His rebuke was firm and stole my response, leaving me speechless.
We rode silently as we approached the woodlands. I didn’t relax back into him, and he didn’t attempt to persuade me to—although part of me wished he’d apologize and endeavor to regain my favor so we could resume our camaraderie.
Instead, his body tensed. With each step we drew nearer to Bevins of Lowdown, his muscles flexed into rigid bands. A glance at him over my shoulder revealed a clenched jaw, tight set of his lips, and eyes narrowed upon the dogwood bushes.
He didn’t say anything, but he’d likely sensed danger and was on high alert.
I surveyed the thick growth, the hawthorn flowers in bloom, their speckled white a contrast to the lush green. The blood-red of the honeysuckle spread in thick profusion too and would have been a pretty sight had not Sir Aldric been so tense.
He reined his steed, which snorted a hard exhale as though asking what was wrong. Sir Aldric lifted a cautioning hand to the knights behind him, and they fell silent so that the wind whistling through the gorse was a soft, sad song around us.
“My lady.” Sir Aldric spoke close to my ear. “I task you with keeping your sister safe alongside Sir Darien.”
“Safe?” I didn’t resist as he lowered me to the ground.
Before he could answer, a cry came from one of the knights to our left. “Be alert! Incoming arrow!”
I ducked at the same time that Sir Aldric veered his horse sideways to act as a shield. I couldn’t see where the arrow struck or if it hit anyone since the knights were suddenly a hive of action, preparing themselves for battle by donning their helmets and retrieving their shields. None were attired in full plate armor, but rather wore their long hauberks made of chain mail.
“Go now, my lady,” Sir Aldric said more urgently. “Stay at the back of the fighting line with Sir Darien.”
Already his sights were trained on a fresh volley of arrows flying in high arcs from the direction of the dogwoods.
I hurried away from the danger determined to keep Izzy out of harm’s way. Dodging the knights who were spurring their horses into action, I searched frantically for my sister, finally spotting her with Sir Darien on their steeds near the supply wagons.
“Izzy!” I shouted as I wove around a wagon only to almost collide with a knight racing to the front line. Distant shouts drew closer, as the attackers poured from the forest and raced toward us. I attempted to gauge who the enemy was by the coat of arms on their attire. But from my glimpses of the men coming toward us, I saw no emblem or anything else that might indicate if they’d been sent by my father to rescue Izzy and me.
For all I knew, they were bandits who lived in the woodland and preyed upon travelers. Perhaps they’d taken stock of the wagonloads of goods and thought they could steal from Sir Aldric.
Whatever the case, I didn’t wait to discover if the attackers were friend or foe. I simply had one mission and that was to shield Izzy from further distress.
Sir Darien had dismounted and was in the process of aiding Izzy from her mare when I rushed up to them. “We need to find a safe place to hide,” I said.
Izzy’s pale face was even whiter and her eyes wide with fright. She looked to Sir Darien for his guidance, clearly trusting that he’d find a way to protect us.
As Sir Darien gently lowered her to the ground, he scoured the chaos around us. “Over there.” He pointed to a thick clump of gorse a short distance off to the side. “You’ll be out of the thick of the battle there.”
Holding his shield in front of us, he escorted us to the secluded spot. “Stay low,” he warned, as he crouched beside us.
At the shouts and clashing of swords, I placed my arm around Izzy and huddled together, covering her body with mine. I wished I had my armor and would have felt more confident having a sword in hand.
We knelt low, attempting to keep out of sight. At a clanking, Sir Darien rose just slightly, only to have the hilt of a sword slam down onto his mail hood with a force that crumpled him to the ground.
I gasped and lunged after his sword, which had fallen a few feet away. But before I could grab it, a warrior in a peasant’s cloak landed upon the sword in a lithe crouch. The move was familiar, one I’d been trained to perform.
My heart gave an irregular thump.
Even before the warrior pushed aside his hood, I saw the dark skin.
“Cecil?” I whispered as excitement renewed my strength and courage. My father had sent a rescue party just as I’d known he would.
He pressed a finger against his lips, his dark eyes assessing first me and then Izzy. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he shoved something into my hands. His gaze held mine for a long moment and filled with apology.
He rose halfway, looking again in the direction of the fighting. He tugged his hood back over his thin face and concealed his hands in the sleeves of his cloak. Then he darted away.
I moved to follow him, intending to drag Izzy along. But Cecil cast me a final glance, one that bid me to stay before he sprinted in the direction of the woods.
“Stop!” came Sir Aldric’s command. I could see him running in our direction. He hesitated as if he would chase after Cecil, but then he continued charging toward us.
Dare I race after Cecil and attempt to outrun Sir Aldric? If I’d been alone without Izzy, I might have tried the feat. But even then, I would have risked capture. Besides, Cecil had clearly indicated that I should stay, that I wasn’t to follow him.
I glanced down at the item he’d pressed into my hand. It appeared to be a small rolled parchment. A note.
“My lady,” Aldric called as he drew near, his handsome face a mask of concern. “Are you harmed?”
I slid the secret note out of sight through the slit of my skirt and into the pouch underneath that served as a pocket. I had no time to read it now with Sir Aldric upon us.
“We have suffered no ill,” I responded as I clutched Izzy’s hand and squeezed a warning. I prayed she would understand that we needed to keep Cecil’s identity a secret. “But I fear Sir Darien did not fare as well.”
“I saw him fall and came as fast as I could,” Aldric said breathlessly, his sword drawn, his sights fixed upon Cecil who had reached the edge of the woods and disappeared into the thick growth. Cecil was well covered, his dark skin hidden. Even so, did Aldric recognize him?
A shrill whistle pierced the air, and the attackers began to retreat into the forest.
Sir Darien tossed his head and groaned.
Izzy broke away from me and crawled to his side.
“Stay here until I return for you,” Aldric said tersely. He didn’t wait for my reply but instead commanded his troops to pursue the attackers. With sword pointed in the direction of the forest, he charged after the retreating enemy.
My heart thudded a strange dread as I watched him surge to the front of his men and lead the pursuit. I tried to tell myself I was only worried about Cecil, that I didn’t want anyone to discover his presence or to capture him. But my sights stayed upon Aldric until the forest swallowed him from view, and I had to admit I didn’t want any harm to befall him either.
I stared at the woodland in the place he’d disappeared. Part of me knew I needed to make my escape with Izzy now while Aldric and most of the other knights were gone. Sir Darien was moaning and beginning to revive, but not coherent enough to stop us.
And yet, I hesitated. Cecil had bid me to stay. He could have helped us get away if that’s what he’d intended.
The secret note in my pocket beckoned to me. With a sweeping glance to make sure no one was paying attention to me, I slipped my hand into my pocket and retr
ieved the rolled parchment. I slit the wax seal, noting it belonged to my father. Then I unrolled the paper to reveal his scrawling handwriting.
“Lord Pitt discovered the Holy Chalice on a recent raid and has it in his possession. You must find it for me. I will wait to rescue you until you have accomplished the deed.”
Upon reading the instructions, I rolled up the parchment and returned it to my pocket. I would find a way later to burn the paper so no one would know of my mission.
But for now, a mixture of emotions swirled inside me—disbelief, frustration, and even hurt that my father had placed me into this dangerous predicament. It was suddenly clear why he hadn’t come to Ludlow’s aid after receiving my missive regarding the attack. He’d wanted Lord Pitt to take me as prisoner so I would be in a position to steal the Holy Chalice.
Over the past few years, Father had been searching for the ancient relic since it was rumored to have curative powers. He’d heard the stories of healing from those who’d sipped wine from the cup just as the Lord did with His disciples during the Last Supper. Now he wanted the cup for Charles.
I couldn’t begrudge Father’s desire for Charles to be healed of his ailments. Poor Charles suffered debilitating seizures that left him weak and gasping for breath. None of the physicians Father brought in could find a way to help him, not through bloodletting, special vapors, or even expensive decoctions. Although the physicians never spoke too negatively of my brother’s condition, we all realized eventually one of the seizures would kill him.
I wanted to save Charles every bit as much as my father did. I loved the young boy. And I didn’t like to see him suffer.
However, was my father so partial that he was willing to sacrifice his daughters so his son could live? No wonder Cecil’s eyes had been filled with an apology. If he’d had a choice, he would have rescued us rather than passing along a message.
Aldric’s words from earlier pricked my conscience—the words that painted my father as a selfish man, one who thought only about himself and how he might profit.
