When Emlyn tried to speak to him, he held up his hand for her to be silent. They’d ridden for two hours and he got a sense they were being followed. James rode in a haphazard way, and circled back around. Their pursuers were not quiet. Several men rode their horses in the direction they’d taken.
James stopped and held a finger to his mouth, signaling Emlyn’s not to speak. She looked aback at her satchel and scrunched her eyes. Thankfully she remained quiet.
Throughout the rest of the day, James had to track back to ensure the pursuers were ahead of them. When he couldn’t locate them, he suspected something was amiss. He stopped his horse and dismounted. Emlyn did the same.
“What happened to my other satchel?”
“I gave it to Grey. You’ll get it back when we go home.”
She shoved his chest. “Your home, not mine. How dare you give my belongings to him without telling me? What if I have need of my sword?”
James walked around the clearing, near the safety of the trees, trying to assess where their pursuers were.
“There is no time to discuss this.”
“Why not?” She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. Her lovely lips parted.
“That’s why,” James said, and pointed to a band of men running toward them from across the field.
James pulled his sword free and pushed Emlyn behind him. “Stay here.”
“Nay. I won’t let you face them alone.” She reached down and snatched the dirk from his boot.
“Emlyn, it is too dangerous.” As he explained, several arrows flew at them, hitting the tree directly above their heads. “This is not good.” The men were seconds away from reaching them. James sheathed his sword. “Put the dirk away.”
“Nay. I won’t let them harm us. I don’t understand, James, why?”
He tried to get her to release it by gripping her wrist, but she withstood his will. “Mayhap they won’t attack us if we appear unarmed.”
She shook her head. Emlyn put the dirk inside her tunic. Two men approached and took him by the arms. James didn’t try to fight them. His only thought was trying to keep Emlyn safe and by being subdued, he’d hope they were only intent on robbing them. He was drug away from the trees where several men went at him. James defended himself using his hands and legs. He resisted taking his sword from its scabbard.
Emlyn, on the other hand, felled two of their followers with the dirk. She yelled at him from across the field. “Use your sword.”
He shook his head. There were too many of them and even if he was able to get his sword free, he’d have little time to use it.
Two men held his arms and began twisting them. James ended up on his knees, then face down on the grass. He grunted at the force of the pressure from one of the man’s knee to his back.
He shouted to Emlyn to cease fighting, and she stood still, holding the bloody dirk in her hands. A burly man stepped around him and then stomped on the back of his calf. James felt the crunch of his bones and shouted as pain reverberated through him. All he heard at that moment was Emlyn’s scream. She ran toward him, but James closed his eyes against the pain.
“Cease hurting him. I’ll go with you quietly and promise not to cause trouble. Only don’t harm him.”
Chapter Twenty
Emlyn sat upon the horse with a soldier behind her, effectually holding the bounds tied around her wrists. The position was uncomfortable, but she’d bear it. None of the soldiers spoke to her, and she was unsure who they were. They did not claim to be Marshall’s men.
She grew concerned for James and couldn’t see him unless she turned, but her bounds made that impossible. They’d ridden for two full days and finally reached their destination. She didn’t know where they headed, but she realized they’d gone south, by the placement of the setting sun and rising moon.
They had only traveled far enough south to be near the border of England. The castle ahead appeared busy and Emlyn hoped with all her heart that Marshall wasn’t in residence. The soldier who held her dismounted and pulled her off the horse. She stood awaiting directions when he poked her back. She had enough time to look behind her and spied James.
Two soldiers held his arms and drug him forward. The pain at seeing him treated so, hurt deeply. She wanted to yell at the soldiers, but resisted.
As she entered the castle, she was taken to a chamber on the second floor. James must have been taken elsewhere because as soon as she entered the chamber her hands were unbound and she was given her satchel.
“We checked it. There’s nothing in it but garments,” one of the soldiers said to the man standing next to her. He set it on the floor next to where she stood.
“Where am I? Why have you taken us?”
The man didn’t answer but went to peer out the window casement. “You’ll not try to escape, my lady. It’s a long way down and you’ll break your lovely neck if ye try.” He returned to her side. “You are Emlyn of Iorwerth?
She wouldn’t affirm or deny his question.
“We saw you arrive at the Ross keep and your departure. We know you were taken there by the Gunn clan. When you didn’t arrive at Schrosberie, my lord sent dispatches. He will arrive soon. Make yourself comfortable, Princess.”
She swallowed hard at hearing that. Even though he had not said outright that Marshall sent them, he was the lord the soldier referred to. Emlyn remained still and tried to appear unaffected.
“What of my escort? What have you done with him?”
“He will be dealt with.”
The soldier turned and headed for the door. He bid the others to follow. Emlyn stood in the center of the chamber alone. The door closed and she heard the beam of wood being set to keep her locked in. She paced, trying to think of what to do, how to escape, and how to rescue James.
Then her eyes fastened on her satchel. She hastened to it and pulled out the gown Branwyn had given her. Once she stripped of her tunic and breeches, she quickly donned the gown. She pulled off her boots and slid her feet into the matching slippers. As she rummaged through the bag, she realized her weapons had been removed. Losing Griffen’s dagger brought forth despair. How would she ever tell him she’d lost it?
She spotted the golden headdress she’d worn on the night of her farewell feast. At the bottom lay a ring and armband. She put them on, adding to her ensemble. The last item, a heavy band of gold cuff fit perfectly on her upper arm. She used her fingers to detangle her hair and pinched her cheeks.
There, she was ready to meet her adversary. She decided to pull the same stint she’d pulled on her mother at her farewell feast. Marshall expected a warrior, but she’d be the complete opposite.
While she waited with dismay, Emlyn worried for James. She hoped they hadn’t harmed him further. For she realized they’d broken his leg and noted other wounds on him when she’d been able to glance at him. She set her mind to think of how she could get to him and through the night she continued to pace the chamber.
By morning, her feet hurt from treading the cold stone floor. Footsteps sounded in the hallway outside the door. The wooden beam was being removed. Anxiety thrummed against her chest and queasiness wracked her stomach.
Emlyn waited. Her breath came in slow rasps. Would Marshall arrive this soon?
A man entered. He was covered from head to foot in armor. His steps clunked from the weight of him. When he reached her, he removed his helmet, revealing a dark head of hair.
Emlyn spied him quickly before she curtseyed and lowered her gaze to her feet. She awaited his bidding to rise. If it was the last thing she ever did, she’d appear demure and would cower at the knave’s feet.
“My lady, stand.”
She pulled her shoulders back but kept her eyes cast low.
“Your name?”
She clasped her hands in front of her and avoided his gaze as he walked around her. His eyes roamed over her and every inch of her stiffened under his perusal.
“Emlyn of the land of Iorwerth.”
“You speak falsely. I was told Princess Emlyn is a warrior. Did your father send another to stand-in to fool me? Aye? Are ye Suzanne or Anhard or one of his other bastards?”
“Nay, my lord, I am indeed she, Emlyn.”
“You do not appear as a warrior and no weapons were found on your person.”
“I know not of what you speak, my lord, but I assure you, I have never taken to arms.”
The man laughed, his eyes crinkled at the corners. “I deem I’ve been duped. What of when you were captured? I was told you struck two of my men with your dagger.”
Emlyn lower her chin, trying to appear morose and sorrowful. “My lord, I was … afeared. I did not mean to harm anyone.”
“I shall need to think on this.” He reached for her hand and Emlyn gasped, for that is what a lady would do were a man to be so forward. “I am Earl of Pembroke, Lord William Marshall, and the greatest adversary of your father.”
“My lord,” she said, keeping her voice as appeasing as she could. She curtseyed to add the, hopefully, proper effect.
“There is a way we can find out if you are indeed my princess warrior. Are you she that stands in my presence or a pretender?” He whistled and called, “Gareth.”
Emlyn stiffened when the man stepped in the doorway. As much as she wanted to run at him and display her wrath, she remained still.
The two men walked around her as if she were on exhibition. Their stares did cause a bit of gumption in her and she sorely wanted to shout a blasphemy or two. That or stick a dagger in that quisling’s heart.
“Is this she?”
“I recognize her, my lord. Aye, ‘tis Princess Emlyn that stands before ye. Only she has hair of that color.”
Marshall turned and gripped the man by his neck. “There’s one thing I abhor in a man more than anything.”
Gareth wheezed and his breath garbled. Marshall’s hand tightened.
“I cannot abide a liar.” Marshall continued to strangle Gareth until his body went limp.
Several minutes went by and her own death flashed in her mind. Would he do the same to her when he finished with the traitor? Emlyn couldn’t believe he killed the man in front of her. Her eyes widened when Marshall released him and tossed Gareth’s body to the stone floor.
“I’m regretful you had to see that, my lady. The man told me you had skill at warfare. That you were skilled at weaponry and were a soldier in your father’s army. He lied to me. I do not abide by liars.”
She shook her head. “My mother would never allow my sisters and I to partake in anything to do with arms, my lord. I don’t know why he would tell you such a tale. Mayhap he was ireful when he was banished from my father’s land for his treachery. That is the only reason I deem he told such a falsehood.” Emlyn should’ve felt badly at the man’s death, but he was a traitor and deserved such a penance.
“There’s been a misunderstanding. I might be an enemy in your father’s eyes, but I do not harm gentle maidens.”
She raised her eyes and looked at him for the first time since he’d entered the chamber. His expression softened and he no longer scowled.
“I had heard you were as chivalrous as your father, my lord. For my father often spoke of the great knight and he respected him. His reputation reached Wales.”
“I deem it has reached beyond, even further. I would that my reputation be as coveted, as my father’s, for it is what I aspire to. I will have this rabble removed, my lady. I bid you the freedom of the castle whilst I am away for I must depart for an important meeting with my king.”
She curtseyed. “I thank you, my lord. Will I be returned to my father?”
Marshall reached the door and turned. “As soon as can be arranged. I will have food brought and comforts.”
Emlyn nodded, but remained standing. She was amazed that she’d fooled him, but she couldn’t let her excitement show.
Two guards entered and removed Gareth’s body. Within a few minutes, a maid came with a tray of foodstuffs. She set it down and hastily left, closing the chamber door behind her. Left to her own accord, a silence stilled the chamber and her heart. If she wasn’t overwhelmingly worried about James, she might have celebrated the victory with a gleeful shout. Instead, she released a grated sigh.
How she’d escaped unscathed from her meeting with Marshall, she would have to offer up a prayer to her father’s deity. Now alone, she was unsure what to do. Outside, noise rose from the courtyard and the sound of soldiers vacating the castle reached her. She went to the window casement and saw Marshall leaving with a troop of soldiers. Two rows of men rode side by side in a great line that went on for at least a mile.
She wondered if the door to her chamber was locked but was hesitant to move toward it. Emlyn went to the trencher and wrapped several chunks of bread in a cloth that had been left. She reached for her satchel and pulled out garments and stuffed the bread inside. She changed back into her tunic and breeches and shoved the gown back in before she put her mind to figuring out a way to get to James.
Hours went by and Emlyn was reluctant to move forward with her plan. For one thing, she had no weapon to use and for another, she didn’t know where James was.
Morning light streamed in through the window casement. It was early enough that very few people would be about. She went to the door and tried it. The door opened. Emlyn was both surprised and relieved. She snuck to the steps and reached the bottom without being seen.
She didn’t see anyone about. Before she vacated the keep, she searched for a weapon. In the great hall, on a table in plain sight was the dirk she’d taken from James. She laughed to herself and snatched it, and put it inside her boot.
Near the buttery, she found a helmet. It was a little large for her head, but would have to do to hide her hair. She tied up her tresses with a tie from her tunic before pulling on the helmet. She appeared as a lad and suspected none would deem otherwise.
Emlyn slipped through the door of the keep. The stable was in sight of the door so she headed in that direction, knowing someone was going to call out. She hastened through the bailey and entered the dark domain. No one called out to her, and she stood inside the stable entrance, rasping for breath. She made quick work of finding her and James’ horses. No lads or stable masters were about yet, and she led the horses outside where she tethered them to a wooden pole.
Now to find James.
Most keeps had a garrison or place where soldiers or prisoners were kept. It appeared Marshall had taken most of the soldiers with him for she only saw three slumbering in the garrison. She bumped into one of the sentries on his return.
“What do you here, lad?”
Emlyn kept her head down. “My lord bid me to retrieve the prisoner. I’m to take him and follow.”
The man scratched his beard and scowled. “He said nothing about that.”
She shrugged her shoulder. “I don’t question my lord. I only do his bidding.”
“Well, be about it, lad.”
“Where is he? Is he …” She tried to appear aloof, hoping he’d give her direction.
“They took him to the pit, behind the kitchens.”
Emlyn turned away and left the garrison. As she approached the kitchens, she saw a stone structure next to the lean-to that they used for cooking, but no pit. It was large and looked foreboding. She hoped James was within, because she saw nothing that was likened to a pit. She kept her head down and stepped inside the building. It smelled rank and of death. With each step, she prayed she’d find James alive.
Several men were chained and bound, and they called out to her as she passed. Never had she seen such deplorable conditions as what the men were kept it. Emlyn couldn’t imagine being imprisoned there and considered the black-stall at home heaven in comparison to this place.
She reached a cell at the end of the hallway and called out to the guard. He opened the door and stepped in front of her. Her breath ceased for he was a giant among men and looked to be stronger than any man she knew. Surely sh
e couldn’t take him with the small dirk she had. Emlyn decided again to use trickery for that was the only way she’d gain his help.
“Is this the prisoner brought yester eve?” Emlyn kept her voice low and gruff, trying not to give herself away.
“Aye. Who are you?”
“My lord’s new squire. I’m to take him and follow my lord as he bade.”
The burly man approached her and stood so close she smelled his rank odor. “What for?” He didn’t look as if he had an intelligent thought in his head.
“I know not. Mayhap my lord plans to ransom him. I need to get him and follow.”
“He’s in no condition to be moved.”
Her heart pitched at hearing that. “Get me a cart then. We shall put him in it. I must hurry for my lord awaits ahead on the road.”
The guard opened the worn-wooden door and went off to do as she asked. Emlyn ran inside and found James lying on a wooden spiked table. His hands and feet were strapped to it. She unbound him, gently removing the leather straps.
“James,” she said in desperation, “What have they done to you?” He didn’t look as though he was breathing and she set her palm on his heart. A beat thumped there. She realized her breath came harshly as she stood there looking at him.
James groaned, but made no move to open his eyes.
Emlyn petted him gently. “You’re hurt, my love. I am so wretched for causing you such pain. Can you hear me? James?”
He remained unresponsive.
The guard returned. “I got a cart, lad. There were two horses in the bailey and I hooked them up to it. Should be good enough to get you to the lord.”
“Can you help me lift him?”
“What do I look like? I don’t do your bidding.” He started to turn away.
“I shall leave then and tell my lord you refused to assist me. If he’s unable to ransom the man it’ll be your neck he squeezes, not mine.” She walked away from the table and was about to exit the chamber when he stopped her.
In Love With A Warrior (Gunn Guardsman (Book 4)) Page 18
