With deft hands, he quickly untied the slip knot from the fence, releasing Amelie’s palfrey.
“Are you ready?” Derrik said, turning to her.
She nodded.
He encased his large, warm hands around her waist, and she felt her own body temperature begin to rise. She averted her face, afraid that he might witness how uncomfortable he made her feel. But he seemed unaffected by their proximity and effortlessly lifted her onto her saddle.
Moving away from her horse, he started toward his courser when a voice from within her screamed — flee! And heeding the command, she became a flurry of motion. Amelie kicked her palfrey on his sides, startling the animal into motion. The beast raised his forelegs in the air before dropping them to the ground, first falling into a cantor and then into a full gallop.
In the ensuing chaos and excitement, the courser pulled forcefully at the leather straps. Derrik ran to release the knot, but it was too late. The agitated mount, realizing that pulling at the straps didn’t help to free him from the fence, tugged at the slip knot with his teeth. The knot came undone, and the courser made a break for it. Derrik chased after his horse all the while cursing loudly.
Amelie turned to look behind her and saw him catch the reins of his horse. There was no way that he would catch up to her now. She was already too far ahead. In addition, he wasn’t familiar with the territory, and he had no idea that she was heading toward Wykeham. There was another way to get to the village, and it didn’t involve going along the king’s highway.
Focusing her gaze up ahead, she avoided the low hanging branches. She felt the air whiz through her hair as she leaned over the horse’s back, urging him to go faster and faster. Her horse knew the terrain well and easily jumped over the fallen logs and rocks that were in their path. They flew through the small clearing and disappeared into the dense forest.
Griping the reins tightly, Amelie allowed her body to rock to the motion of her racing palfrey. The ease of her escape was exhilarating. A wild laugh escaped from her lips as she remembered the startled look on Derrik’s face, although the wind and the pounding hooves carried away her amusement. She had managed to get away from Derrik once again. In her mind’s eye, she could see him trying to go after her, but he wouldn’t know where to turn. He would look over at every direction, and not find a trace of her. Another laugh escaped her.
Amelie continued to ride like the wind, glancing back a couple of times only to make certain that she wasn’t being followed. When she was satisfied that she had put enough distance between her and Derrik, she slowed the palfrey. The terrain was starting to become more uneven and a bit difficult to navigate. From this point on, there was no clear path to follow, and the larger rocks were scattered randomly and cloaked in moss. The trees were thicker in this area as well and some of their branches hung dangerously low. There was still quite a length to cross before she arrived at Wykeham, and the last thing she needed was for her horse to slip on damp moss, or become injured some other way.
She navigated carefully through the underbrush. Up ahead, she saw a sizeable log that had fallen and that now rested on a large boulder. Stopping, she assessed the best way to maneuver around the obstacle when the sound of pounding hooves entered her consciousness. The noise was faint at first, but it grew stronger, louder with each passing second. She jerked up from the saddle, turning her head to look behind her. Her heart sank at the sight of the golden-haired knight in the distance. He had her within his sights, and was closing in even as she snapped at her reins, urging her palfrey to pick up his pace. How did Derrik find her so quickly? No one except the locals knew about the shortcut through the woods. She was convinced that Derrik would head toward the highway, and not through the dense forest. Yet here he was.
She veered quickly to the right. But during a moment of distraction, when she turned her head to gauge how far Derrik was, she missed seeing a low hanging branch that suddenly jutted out in front of her. Amelie had just enough time to raise her arm defensively to block the branch from whipping across her chest. The speed of her horse, combined with the force of the impact knocked her clear off her mount.
A scream tore from her lips. The next thing she knew, she was lying on the ground in a fetal position, cradling her injured arm. She wondered how God had given her such an opportunity and means to escape only to have it taken away a short while later.
“Are you all right, my lady?” Derrik shouted as he pulled his courser to a halt and jumped down. He quickly ran to her side. Breathing hard, he looked down at her, a concerned expression marring his face.
She shook her head, moaning loudly and clutching her arm.
Derrik gently lifted her arm and pushed up her long sleeve. An angry, red welt showed starkly against her creamy skin. He made a sympathetic noise with his tongue and pulled her sleeve back down. “’Tis only a bruise but ‘tis not serious,” he said. “You’ll survive to see another day.”
“’Tis no thanks to you,” she said, glaring at him through a curtain of pain. “In fact you are the cause of all this.”
“I’ll have to disagree with you on that. ’Twas not I who told you to ride away from me,” he pointed out. “But luckily you landed here.” He put his hand to the ground and pressed at the spongy, moist ground. It was covered by decades of decayed leaves and moss. He leaned back on his heels. “A few more inches, and your head might have bashed into those rocks over there. I dare say that ‘tis not beneficial for you to have your comely head smashed into pieces.”
“Go away,” she cried, averting her face and hugging her arm closer to her chest. “You have done enough damage.”
“I wasn’t the one that caused the damage,” he countered. Getting up, he offered her a hand. “I should have just let you ride off on your own except my conscience wouldn’t allow it. ‘Twould seem that my fears are well founded. Now I’m afraid that I’ll have to stay with you and save you from yourself. You don’t seem to even know how to get back to the castle,” he added. Suddenly his brow pinched together and he looked at the surroundings. “You weren’t planning to go back to the castle, were you?”
Amelie compressed her lips.
“Ah,” he said softly. “I see now. This direction you’re taking leads to the village of Wykeham. Were you perhaps going there to visit an old friend?”
“How do you know about Wykeham?” she demanded, her voice a mix of surprise and suspicion. “Only a local would know where I am heading. You seem to be entirely too familiar with this territory, and with me as well,” she added as an afterthought. Her eyes glinted with open hostility. “Perhaps you are the one who sent the attacker, and ‘tis your intention to kill me.”
“The more I get to know you, the more enticing the idea sounds,” he said mockingly. “But if I had plans to murder you, you would have been dead a long time ago. However as things stand, you seem to be doing a terrific task at constructing your own demise,” he said, his lips quivering slightly.
When Amelie didn’t even crack a smile at his jest, he began to laugh. Gesturing to the woods, he pointing to the north and explained, “A friend lives not too far from here, so I’m very familiar with these woods.”
“’Tis just my luck,” she muttered under her breath.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing,” she said, struggling to push herself up with her uninjured arm.
“Take it,” he said, offering his hand again. “You’re injured, so I insist that you accept my help.”
Amelie lifted her undamaged arm and took his hand. As soon as they touched, she almost recoiled from the shocking warmth of his contact. But Derrik ignored her reaction, and with a sure grip, he pulled her from the ground.
She took a step back, wanting to move away from him, but he had already turned and was walking toward his horse.
“I suggest that you do as I say, because I know outlaws frequent these woods. I won’t be responsible if you get accosted by them. Most noble people are taught to travel with at least one g
uard. However ‘twould seem that someone neglected to educate you on this vital lesson.
“I can take care of myself,” she said, her voice terse.
“It doesn’t look like you’re doing a very good job then, does it?” he said, glancing down at the arm that she nursed.
“Why are you baiting me?”
“Because ‘tis amusing,” he said, showing her his white teeth.
She let out a frustrated growl, while his grin widened. “Your brown palfrey is just over by that tree. Since you aren’t in any condition to walk, I’ll set you on top of my courser and will take you there.”
He made a move to lift her onto the saddle.
“Nay,” she said, pushing his hands away. “I shall walk.”
He snorted, and said sarcastically, “Did that fall make you even more stubborn?”
She sniffed, but didn’t offer a rebuttal. Her mind still pondered over his earlier comment. Derrik wasn’t the only one to tell her about the dangers in the woods and beyond. She knew she should’ve heeded the advice of others. A lady needed to be chaperoned and guarded. In Amelie’s eagerness to leave the castle, she only had time to throw an old, plain cloak over her shoulders, however even though the material was worn, it was still of high quality. No one with any intelligence would mistake her for a villein. And even villeins weren’t immune to the marauding criminals.
And now that she was closer to her destination, she realized that she hadn’t fully determined what she would do after her mission was completed. Likely she would finish the interview with the inn keeper before it got dark. But by the time she was ready to leave the village, it would be nightfall and she wouldn’t be able to find her way back through shortcut. And then forced to take the king’s road, she was very likely to encounter cutthroats and outlaws, since nighttime was when the criminals came out to terrorize people.
“I might need your escort after all,” she said, her tone abrupt. “My intention is not to go back to the castle.”
He raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to continue.
“I am going to Wykeham to investigate the whereabouts of my father,” she explained.
“I see,” he said. “So you’re now admitting that your father won’t return to the castle any time soon.”
She approached the brown palfrey that stood peacefully off to one side, nuzzling the leaves of a young shrub.
“I am not admitting to anything,” she said stubbornly. “My father will return. I just do not know when that will be.” She was no longer looking at him, her hand absently stroking the palfrey’s mane.
“What do you hope to find at the village?”
“Facts,” she said simply. “I am told that the inn keeper at the Fox Trail witnessed an altercation that involved my father. I plan to speak with him, and find out what he knows. From my calculations, the interview should not take long.” She paused. “However ‘tis another matter when I make my way back to Stanbury, for ‘tis then that I will likely need your escort.”
Chapter 13
“What are you planning to do once you find your father?” Derrik asked, his voice breaking through her thoughts.
“I plan to appeal to the king, and tell him my father has been falsely accused of the crime.” Amelie tugged at the ends of her long sleeves. “Once he hears of the truth —”
“But what proof do you have of your father’s innocence?” he interrupted, his voice betraying a hint of impatience.
The horse rocked rhythmically beneath her with each stride he took. Once again, she wished that she could get away from Derrik’s disconcerting look and his penetrating questions.
“Well,” she said, giving him a frown. “That is the whole point of why I am going to Wykeham — to find proof.”
He leaned back in the saddle and gave her a measured look. “’Tis not easy to find proof. You’re dealing with someone you care about, and from my years working for the king, I witnessed that emotions always cloud the truth. All indications point to the fact that your father is somehow involved in high treason. His brother, the Lord High Steward, makes a good case, and accuses him of the crime. As well, your lord father puts further suspicion on himself by suddenly disappearing.”
“I refuse to believe anything you have said.” She gave her head a stubborn shake and raised her head to stare blindly in front of her.
“But there’s a possibility that he’s guilty of the charges against him,” he said gently.
“Nay, do not tell me that.” She blinked back her tears. “If I believe you then I will accept that my father will be hanged and quartered, his life eliminated just like that. If a person loves her father with all her heart, you cannot tell her that ‘tis no use to fight for him, and that she should just wait and watch him die.” The despair that she had suppressed ever since she received the missive from Roldan threatened to overtake her.
The wind was starting to pick up, but the rain still hadn’t come. For a long while Derrik didn’t say anything. And Amelie was glad that he decided to drop the subject. She preferred not to converse for the rest of the journey, but her relief was short-lived when he broke the silence between them.
“I might not fully understand where you’re coming from,” he admitted. “There are few people who I care enough to risk my life to help.”
“But what about your siblings and parents?”
“I don’t have any siblings, and my parents died when I was young.”
She didn’t want to feel sympathetic toward him. In fact, she didn’t want to know anything about him. He was just a knight that served the king, a knight that was only interested in war and politics.
“Well, you cannot understand where I am coming from then,” she said finally regaining her composure and wanting to put an end to the discussion.
He regarded her briefly, and she thought she saw hurt reflected in his eyes before he looked away from her. Amelie’s brow creased as she realized that her comment sounded mean and petty. She was much more charitable than this. In her mind, she could hear her nursemaid berating her for her callousness.
“Forgive me. That was rude,” she sighed and allowed the frustration to surface in her voice. “I seem so close to the truth, yet every time I am about to find something significant, a new obstacle presents itself. It angers me to hear other people debase my father’s name when I know in my heart that he is innocent.”
“Knowing in your heart…” He broke off when he saw the muted look on her face. Shaking his head, he said almost apologetically, “I have never met anyone so determined to declare a person’s innocence without any evidence.”
“I am determined because I care. I would do anything in my power to help my family.” She pulled at the leather strap that wrapped around her hand, allowing it to bite into her flesh. For a moment, she relished the sharp pain as it overrode the constant, dull ache in her bosom.
She shook her head, trying to break away from her dreary mood. “Now ‘tis my turn to ask you — why is it so important for you to arrest my father?” she asked. “You have no proof of his guilt either.”
Derrik threw an appreciative glance at her, acknowledging her perceptiveness, and offered a small smile. “’Tis true what you say. However I am not the judge of whether he is innocent or guilty of high treason. The king is responsible for that. In all cases we’re to follow the dictates of the monarch and uphold his laws. If we ignore these laws, the criminals and scum of the earth will rise and take over our society.”
“So you have dedicated your entire life to the king,” she said, frowning. “What about your home life? What does your wife and children say when you go away on these long excursions, fighting for the king’s cause?”
He looked at her with a blank expression on his face, as if she had just asked him whether he believed in faeries. “I’m not married, nor do I have any children.”
Amelie shook her head and looked at him almost sympathetically. “’Tis a good thing then.”
“Why is that good?” He cocked
his head and looked at her oddly.
“You would spare heartache to a wife and child who would pine after you while you are away,” she said, lifting one slender shoulder in a shrug. “I know that some men do not care to start a family, and I suppose that you would rather only be a knight and serve the king.”
“What else is there in life?” he asked, his brow furrowing with incomprehension. “I have always wanted to be a knight ever since my uncle Jared showed me his broadsword.” He looked beyond the trees, a tiny smile tugging at his lips as he recalled the exact moment he touched the cold metal. “Sir Jared was the most powerful knight I knew at the time, and since both my parents were dead, he took me under his wing, and taught me the ways of a knight. It was shortly after I received my spurs that I met Sir Jonathan d’Abelard and Sir Gareth de Mowbrey —”
“I have heard of those knights,” she interrupted, the polite attendance she had given him abruptly changing. “They were the king’s legendary strongmen, were they not?” she asked, her eyes glimmering with excitement. “The Stanbury garrison often spoke about the Iron Hawk and his commander. And I heard stories of their feats when I was young. I did not know you were acquainted with them.”
He smiled dryly at her reaction, a reaction that was all too familiar when people realized his connection to two of the greatest knights in the kingdom. In all the skills and experiences that he acquired in the past five years, he felt that he had much to learn. Still, he had worked hard to gain his level of success. In that time, he learned to temper his aggression, and act as an elite negotiator and diplomat for the king. More than once, he helped to avert potential strife between neighboring demesnes. And when the king needed men to fight on his behalf, Derrik proved many times that not only was he skilled at handling a broadsword, but he had an unyielding ability to manage armies as well. However even with the victories he led and with men who looked up to him, he was nowhere near as skilled as the celebrated Iron Hawk or his former commander.
A Knight's Duty (The Knights of Honor Trilogy, Book 2) Page 8
