The Bravest of Them All

by Laurel O'Donnell

  Nessa jerked forward. “I am!” A sob escaped Mel’s lips from behind her. Whatever he wanted with Mel, he would never get. “I’m Melwyn.”

  Urien took hold of her arm and pried her away from Mel, who sobbed.

  “Run,” Nessa said to Mel. But Mel did not move. She struggled against Urien’s hold to command her sister, “Run!”

  One of the men led horses onto the road. Urien forced Nessa to his horse. “I don’t want your sister,” he told her and lifted her onto his steed. “Only you.” He mounted behind her. The horse circled once and Nessa locked eyes with Mel. She would be safe. She was relieved her sister would be unharmed. Then, the reality of the situation descended over her and terror gripped her in an icy hand. She was Urien’s captive.

  Chapter Two

  The dreary day was lined with gray skies and wet earth. A long line of horses trudged through the mud of the road, making it difficult to pull the wagon.

  Luke maneuvered his horse to the side of the line warriors. Weary mounted knights passed with slumped shoulders, too tired to look up at him as he waited. The clump clump of the horses sounded as the men rode by. They had ridden from the coast after crossing from France to bring Lord Tristan home. The creak of the wagon wheels came closer. Luke took up pace beside it. Tucked in thick blankets like a swaddled new born, Lord Tristan rested in the back of the wagon. His eyes had not opened since he received his wound on the battlefield fighting the French. During the battle, Luke had been too far away from him to prevent the blow that landed on his head. Luke had managed to make it to his side before the second blow finished his life. It had been a count who begged for his life at the tip of Luke’s sword when Luke got the upper hand. He took the count prisoner, but was too worried about Lord Tristan to truly care. The battle over, physicians hovered about Lord Tristan. Yet, still he had not opened his eyes. Luke offered to escort him home and was granted the pardon by his liege, Prince Edward, to do so. Now, he wasn’t sure if Lord Tristan would survive the trip. Luke glanced at the physician. “How is he?”

  A small, round man was seated at Lord Tristan’s side. He shook his head. “He hasn’t woken, my lord.”

  But he hasn’t passed. Luke was grateful for that. It took a moment for Luke to realize the title was for him. He acknowledged it with a nod of his head. My lord. He would never get used to the title. Prince Edward had granted him land and a castle in Andover, just outside of Winchester for saving Lord Tristan’s life and capturing the count. Concern hung heavy in the pit of Luke’s stomach as he turned his horse and trotted to the front of the line where his trusted friend, Walter Gray, rode. Luke met his inquisitive gaze with a grim stare before looking away.

  “This weather can’t be good for him,” Walt said, gazing at the sky.

  Luke didn’t care. “We’ll be at Tiverton soon.”

  “He might not make the journey,” Walt said quietly.

  “He will,” Luke replied, insistently. He had made a vow to see Lord Tristan home, to his daughters. Mel and Nessa. He was grateful to be on English soil again. After the battle, Luke had somehow come out a hero, distinguishing himself by saving Lord Tristan’s life. He didn’t feel like a hero.

  Soon, the castle rose before them. Luke had sent a rider ahead to announce their return. The gates were opened for them and villagers lined the streets in welcome. Luke noticed the solemnness on their faces. Perhaps because they knew their lord was injured. As they rode to the keep, Luke saw a blonde woman standing before the doors, surrounded by ladies and knights, and quickly recognized her as Mel. His gaze scanned the crowd, but he couldn’t see Nessa. She was probably off riding one of the steeds or planting in the garden. Prickles of apprehension danced up his spine. She should be here to welcome her father home. Luke brought the line to a halt before the keep doors.

  A small boy rushed forward to grab the reins of Luke’s horse as he dismounted. Melwyn came forward. She was stunning, much more beautiful than he remembered. She had grown up, become a young woman. Her large blue eyes glinted with concern.

  “Luke!” She threw her arms about his shoulders. “Luke!” She pulled back, her eyes dancing over the line of men. Alarm made her eyes wide, and carved deep grooves in her forehead.

  “Do not fear,” Luke said softly. “Your father is home. He is --”

  “Nessa...” she gasped.

  Luke scowled. “Nessa?”

  “He took her!” Mel grabbed his arm, shaking it. “You have to do something. I didn’t know what to do. But you can --”

  “Someone took her?” Luke clenched his jaw and straightened. “Who took her?” Walt came to his side.

  “Urien,” Mel gasped, squeezing his arm. “We were on our way home from the village. He surprised us.”

  Urien. Luke’s brow lowered into a scowl. He was the neighboring lord’s son. He had hated Nessa when they were children. Prickles raced across Luke’s neck. He turned to see servants unloading Lord Tristan from the wagon. He glanced back at Mel. “Are you all right?”

  Tears welled up in Mel’s eyes. “You have to find her, Luke. You have to.”

  “Did you send men after them?”

  Mel opened her mouth and then shut it. Guilt filled her quivering lower lip. “I didn’t... I never...”

  Nessa was the one who ran the castle in her father’s absence. Luke knew that even though she was the younger sister, Nessa was the one the people looked to for guidance and protection. She was never any good with tallies nor details, but she was compassionate and they knew she would do whatever it took to take care of them. He grabbed Mel by the arms. “Why didn’t you take guards with you?”

  Mel’s lower lip puffed out. “We did. He killed them.”

  Luke released Mel. Killed them. He looked toward the open gate. Nessa. Luke stepped away from Mel. “Walt. Stay here. Guard the castle.”

  Mel reached for him. “Where are you going?”

  “I’ll take five men and go after Nessa. How long --”

  “No!” Mel grabbed his chain mail sleeve, halting him. “Don’t leave me!”

  Luke took her hands in his, prying them free of his chain mail. “I have to go after Nessa.”

  “Send someone else. Don’t leave me,” she begged. “I’m frightened, Luke.”

  “Walter will stay here with you. It is my duty to make sure you are both safe.”

  She looked at Walter.

  “He’ll keep you safe,” Luke reassured her.

  “You’ll bring Nessa back?”

  “Yes,” Luke promised with conviction.

  Mel nodded and released him. She folded her hands into her chest nervously.

  He turned to Walt. “He couldn’t have gotten far. You have the castle.”

  Walt nodded.

  Luke swung himself up onto his horse. He pointed at five trustworthy men, ordering them with him. “Ride with me.” He looked at Mel. “I’ll be back.”

  Nessa sat on the ground near a tall tree with her knees pulled up to her chest. She hugged her knees as she eyed the men in the camp sitting around the small clearing. She counted them again. Eight, including Urien. Urien. She remembered him from when they were young. He had squired for a while with her father. She couldn’t count the times he had pushed her down in the mud. Only her, never Mel. He took great pleasure in telling her that was because Mel was the heir and she was nothing. She remembered the last time he had shoved her down. She had landed on the wet ground, in a puddle, soaking her beautiful new dress. Hurt and angry, she dug deep in the puddle for a large wad of soaking earth and tossed it at him. It hit him squarely on the cheek. Shocked, she had run. But he had caught her.

  She mentally shook herself from her reverie. That had been years ago. She would not be afraid of him, she vowed. She watched him stroll across the camp. Long red hair hung in stringy locks to his shoulders. His hand rested on the pommel of his sword. A big sword. She quickly averted her eyes. I will not be afraid of him. Her gaze came to rest on one of his men. He was hunched over, tearing pieces of me
at from the rabbit they had caught. A large piece caught in his black beard, but he continued attacking the meat he was eating. He wore no heraldry. None of them did. Could they be mercenaries? No. Urien was an outcast, banished by his own father’s decree; she had heard the stories of his banishment from several different merchants. He had nothing to pay the men with. She wondered what he had promised them.

  A stream gurgled by to her left. She couldn’t see it, but she knew it was there by the rushing sound. She looked up at the leaves of the trees. Beyond them, she saw the sky was darkening. She should try to escape. She didn’t know what plans Urien had for her. He might ransom her. He might try to wed her. The thought alone was enough to make her ill. She had to remember that he thought she was Melwyn. He would never harm Mel; she was too important as heir to Castle Greymount. But if he ever found out she was Nessa, he would kill her. She had no doubt.

  Urien spoke to one of the men quietly. There were six men, including Urien, in the camp now. That left two walking the perimeter of the camp on guard duty. Even if she managed to get away from the camp, she would have to be careful not to run into the other two.

  Urien turned suddenly and strode toward her.

  Nessa tightened her grip on her legs.

  He wore leather armor covering his torso and black breeches. He stopped before her.

  She stared at his spread legs, her fingers clutching the folds of her cotton traveling skirt.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked. “I brought some rabbit for you.”

  Nessa was hungry. She nodded.

  He held out a piece of rabbit.

  She looked up. His fingers were greasy and pudgy. But she was hungry. She took the meat from him and took a bite. He turned to walk away. Nessa swallowed the rabbit. “It’s getting cold,” Nessa called. When he stopped and turned to her, she asked, “When will we arrive at Kernwith Castle?”

  “We’re not going there.” His shrewd eyes raked her. “We’re going to the caves.”

  Caves? For a moment, her mind wouldn’t fathom what caves. Then she remembered. The St. Agnes caves. She didn’t understand. Why would they be headed there to those wet, cold caves? The caves were many days ride! What could be there?

  He squatted before her. “After what happened beneath the oak tree... You remember, don’t you?”

  Nessa’s heart hammered in her chest. How could she remember? She was never there! She nodded, fear clenching tight in her stomach.

  His gaze softened. “I can’t forget. After all these years. I couldn’t forget. You must have known I’d come for you.”

  “But the caves... Why go to the caves?” Nessa couldn’t help asking. She hoped it wouldn’t give her away, but she had to know.

  “The legend. You know the legend. You told me of the legend.”

  Nessa almost cringed. Not that damned legend again. For a while it had been all Mel could talk about. The legend of the two lovers. She was convinced it was true. That she and Luke were destined to be in love forever. Nessa had never told her that Luke had touched the stain with her. It would have crushed Mel. And then Luke had left with their father to fight the French with Prince Edward. There had been no more time for fantasies or legends. “Of the lovers.”

  Urien grinned. “Of the lovers. We will put our hands on the stain, you and I.”

  Even as her stomach plummeted in hopelessness, Nessa nodded. Good heavens! She knew she had to escape now. He was a madman. She was very curious as to why Mel would have even spoken to him, let alone told him the legend?

  He reached out to her and touched her hand. “I knew Luke was coming to marry you. I had to get to you before he returned.”

  She tried not to quiver in repulsion as his greasy fingers trailed along her hand. How would anyone find her? They would think Urien would take her to Kernwith Castle. That was where she thought he was taking her. That would be where they would look. She had to leave some trail. Something. She took another bite of the rabbit.

  He stood to tower over her. “You are a guest in my camp. Anything you want is yours.”

  She swallowed the rabbit, hard. Then, she forced a grin to her lips.

  Urien returned to camp.

  As Nessa watched him move away, despair swept through her. Her sister must have sent guards after her. Maybe they would find her. How could she sit and wait for a rescue that might never come? She had to be alert. She finished eating the rabbit. Only the bone remained. She stared at it for a long moment. Maybe it was something she could use. She eased her dress up to her ankle and glanced around, making sure none of the mercenaries were watching. She put the bone into her boot.

  She had to look for a way out. She had to escape before Urien found out she wasn’t Mel.

  Chapter Three

  Luke paused at the intersection of the road. Around them, a thick forest grew. Luke’s horse danced nervously beneath him. It was a perfect spot for an ambush. He glanced one way, looking deeper into the forest. Then, he turned his head the other way, toward Kernwith Castle. That was the way Luke expected Urien to go, toward his home and familiar lands. He glanced at his trusted man, Peter Valance, with a scowl. “Are you sure the old woman said this way?”

  Peter nodded his cropped dark-haired head and steadied his horse. He pointed off into the distance at a path through the forest. “She said they went through there.”

  Luke reined in his steed, steadying him with a firm hand. It didn’t make sense. Kernwith Castle was straight down the road. Had they headed into the forest to throw followers off the trail? Luke pictured Nessa being dragged through the forest. Her hair tangling in branches. Her clothes ripping on sharp thorns. He clenched his teeth. God’s blood, that Urien! If he had harmed Nessa, Luke would kill him. He glanced back at Peter. “Take the road and make sure Urien didn’t take her in that direction.”

  Peter nodded and sped past them toward Kernwith Castle.

  Luke spurred his steed and led the rest of the men into the forest.

  The group of knights followed the trail through the forest. The path Urien and his men had taken was obvious by the horse-trampled leaves and broken branches. At least they were easy to follow. At sunset Luke and his men came upon an empty campsite. A doused fire was surrounded by crushed grass and leaves where the men had rested. They couldn’t be more than a day’s ride behind them. Luke dismounted and walked the circular perimeter of the camp, searching. He made out three different paths into the forest. Urien’s men must have taken trips into the woods to relieve themselves or for sport. Luke scanned the three paths. He wasn’t sure which trail they had taken when they departed the camp. His booted feet crunched on rabbit bones as he moved about the camp.

  “My lord,” Alec Malot, a sturdy fighter, called. He pointed to a tree.

  Luke turned. He scanned the tree, but missed it the first time. When he looked again, he noticed something white stuck into the corner between a branch and the trunk. He stepped closer and reached out. It was the bone of a rabbit. He stared down at it in the palm of his hand. It looked like a small piece of a rabbit leg. He scowled. What was it doing in the tree? He lifted his gaze to look at the forest. One of the trails was beside the tree. The trodden path looked to have been used by many people. He glanced at the rabbit bone again. Had it been haphazardly tossed there? Luke looked at the path again. Or was this a sign from Nessa? She was bright. But was she that bright? It only took Luke a moment to decide. “This way.” Luke hoped he was right.

  Nessa was exhausted when they finally stopped for the night on the third day. Earlier, at one of the quick rest stops they made, she had seen a knight in chainmail enter the camp, speak with Urien, and depart. On the left side of the knight’s face, a thick scar ran from his jaw to his hairline. He had never been in the camp before and wasn’t one of the eight men she had been traveling with. It was strange that a knight had spoken to Urien, but she quickly forgot about it. Three days’ ride with these madmen was making her bottom sore and her hope die. At least she had managed to keep the rou
se of being Mel up.

  Now, as darkness covered the land, she bowed her head between her arms. She longed to be back home. To see little John hop on one foot in the rain. To ride her favorite horse, Lancelot, across the field. To have Mel reprimand her for her wild hair. Mel’s hair was always perfect. Beautiful. It never dared to untangle from the braid Mel occasionally wore it in, or come free of her fillet. Nessa sighed. Even now, wild strands stuck to the bark of the tree she was resting beneath. She was surprised her hair hadn’t given her away to Urien. Her shoulders slumped. She wanted to go home.

  There had been enough quiet time during the ride for her to plan an escape, a daring escape. The only time she was left alone was when she relieved herself. Someone was always near, but they didn’t watch. And if they weren’t watching, she could sneak away. It was a plan. Now that it was dark and the camp was quiet, she knew it was time to put her plan into action. But she was afraid. She was afraid they would catch her. She was even more afraid Urien would soon realize she wasn’t Mel. She had to get away before he realized his mistake. She cupped her hands around her head as if she were hiding. She had been awake all night, waiting. Waiting for the right moment. She knew she had to try. Urien was taking her farther and farther away from her home. The farther they went, the harder it would be to get home.

  Her gaze scanned what she could see of the camp. She knew two men were in the woods on guard duty. She had seen them switch off with other men and heard them talking. Urien slept across the camp from her, maybe to watch her. He was making her uneasy the way he spoke to her and looked at her all the time. She was glad he was sleeping. The other men were also asleep in various positions throughout the camp, except one. There was always one awake. She stood, drawing his attention. He groaned and rose slowly to his feet. He moved over to her.

  Nessa turned and walked the way she had gone earlier, through two trees and down a small path, away from the camp. The man waited for her near the camp, watching, his arms on his hips.