“God’s Beard,” the girl who had asked the initial question gasped. Her eyes were wide with fright. “What on earth was that?”
The prioress eyed her associates a moment before answering. “A plague has come to Alberbury,” she whispered, grabbing two of the girls closest to her. “We must flee now or we will not survive. Doest thou understand?”
The girls could feel the woman’s terror, mingling with their own, and it was enough to get their legs moving. It was so dark, however, that one girl tripped over the nearest bed, falling to her knees before being pulled up by her friends. Together, the group of four nuns and eleven novices headed for the rear entrance to the dormitory. It was a chaotic and hectic flight, and as one of the older nuns brought up the rear, hanging on to a small young woman with golden hair, she began to mutter.
“The Devil has come to our door,” she hissed. “Satan himself has emerged from the darkness and now he intends to feed upon us. We will become fodder for his demons.”
The novice nuns looked to the old woman, fear and confusion on their faces, but the Mother Prioress scolded her.
“Sister Mary Josepha, silence!” she breathed. “Thou speaketh nonsense. Keep thy lips closed for if thou must murmur, be it a prayer to God.”
The older nuns’ squabbling was nothing new. It happened constantly and the novice nuns were unmoved by it. As they ran, however, one young woman kept glancing over her shoulder, seemingly above the panic for the moment. She seemed to be calculating the situation, pondering it more than the others. She was afraid, that was true, but she was also trying to figure a way out of it, if such a thing were possible.
“But where will we go?” the young woman with dark hair and bright green eyes wanted to know. She was a pale, delicious beauty with a sharp and inquisitive mind that often saw her knuckles rapped as a result of that outspoken intelligence. “If men are trying to burn down the priory, it would stand to reason that they have more than likely compromised the village down the hill. We cannot go there and there is no safe haven left for miles around.”
The Mother Prioress hissed at the woman. “Silence, Allaston Eugenia,” she demanded. “We will head to the creek and hide amongst the grass and trees. Remember thy Bible; let the rocks and the trees be my army. They will protect us.”
Lady Allaston Eugenia Coleby de Velt wasn’t entirely sure the old prioress was correct but she kept her mouth shut. It seemed to her that they needed to do more than simply hide in the bushes. They needed to get far, far away, but not knowing the area particularly well, for she grew up in Northumberland, she wasn’t at all sure where they should go. Still, it seemed as if the old prioress was being foolish. There had to be more they could do than shield themselves in the bushes and pray they were not discovered. But she was at a loss to know exactly what that “more” should be.
So she followed the group of women, stumbling through the dormitory door that led into the cloister and out across the well-kept dirt of the gardens. The prioress’ accommodations were directly in front of them, a dark and loveless building, and they skirted the one-storied structure, heading for the rear of the priory and the open fields beyond. The moon, a silver sliver in the blackness of the sky, provided little light. Everyone was tripping and scuffling as they went.
The smell of smoke was heavy as they moved and they could hear the shouts of men and the bray of animals coming from the east and south sides of the priory, the areas that were mostly exposed to the road and the world beyond. Although there were fifteen in their small group, there were at least thirty more nuns who were still unaccounted for, women who had either already fled or were foolishly hiding in the priory. At the moment, there was no way to hunt for all of them, so the Mother Prioress had gathered who she could. Fifteen out of a total of forty-five nuns was a dismal statistic but it was the best they could do under the frightening circumstances.
Allaston was towards the rear of their group as they made their way around the prioress’ lodgings. She was helping Sister Mary Josepha with a young woman, not a particularly healthy young woman, who was having trouble running. The girl was wheezing and coughing with the exertion.
“Please, Annie,” Allaston begged softly. “You must be brave. You must hurry. We must run!”
Annie was having a great deal of difficulty. “I am trying!” she gasped, tears in her eyes. “But I am so frightened, Allie. Who would attack a priory? It is a house of God and meant to be safe from all!”
Allaston shushed her because she knew the Mother Prioress would only yell at poor Annie for sounding so weak. The Mother Prioress did not like weak women. “Evil men have attacked us,” she said simply. “In the end, it does not matter who it is. All that matters is that we must get away from them.”
Annie was bordering on sobs, made difficult by her heavy breathing. “What will become of us?” she wept. “Where will we be safe?”
Allaston didn’t have an immediate answer for her friend, trying to think of something positive as the group came around the corner of the prioress’ lodgings. All that lay before them now was dark, open fields and the creek beyond with its copse of trees and heavy foliage. Before Allaston could speak a word, however, those in the front of the group came to an abrupt halt, causing those in the rear to crash into them. Allaston ended up on her behind as the group of hysterical women came to sudden stop.
Allaston had very narrowly avoided hitting the wall of the structure with her head as she went down. Grunting, she picked herself up and her gaze happened to fall on the Mother Prioress and the fields beyond. She was looking to see what had caused everyone to come to a dead stop and as her eyes adjusted to the dark night, she realized that the fields normally filled with sheep were now filled with men. Hundreds of them.
Terror filled her as she realized there would be no safety in the trees and rocks tonight. That which they had been attempting to flee was now surrounding them, like something dark and evil and smothering. Men with torches had been waiting for them, waiting for their quarry without effort, and if Allaston had been any wiser about warfare she would have realized that the commotion at the front of the priory had been designed to drive the inhabitants out of the back and right into a trap. The tactic had worked. They were all snared.
Some of the young women broke into tears at the sight of all those soldiers. Allaston stood up, a big mud stain on her rump, holding on to Annie as more men on horseback began to surround them. They could hear crying and pleading in the distance as several other nuns were brought around from the front of the priory, now joining the group of fifteen. It was more terror than any of them could bear and they huddled together in a frightened mass.
Behind them, there was a good deal of commotion going on as the big priory began to go up in flames. Men were purposely throwing torches through windows to ignite the interior of the structure and great rolling flames could be seen billowing out of the windows near the chapel, lighting up the night. But at the rear of the priory, an army was gathered around the group of frightened nuns, waiting and hovering over the women like vultures waiting for the kill. As everyone seemed to stand around in tense and terrible silence, the Mother Prioress stepped forward.
“Who art thou?” she asked loudly, though her voice was trembling. “Who wouldst sully our sanctuary with fire and terror this night?”
No one replied right away, but one warrior on a beast of a warhorse separated himself from the group. The horse was scarred and nicked, wearing mail across its neck and hindquarters. The warrior dismounted the horse and moved towards the tiny, bird-like prioress, like a hunter stalking prey. There was something heavy and terrible about the way he moved, his massive boots hitting the earth like great hammers against an anvil, reverberating through the dirt itself.
Even if the prioress hadn’t been a small woman, any woman or man or child would have appeared small compared to the size of the warrior that faced them. Several inches over six feet, he had massive shoulders, arms, and enormous fists the size of a man’s
skull. Clad in well-used mail that grated wickedly when he walked, he wore a heavy leather tunic over the mail and a broadsword at his side that was almost as tall as the prioress herself. It probably weighed more than she did, too. His helmed head tilted slightly downward, the only indication he was looking at the prioress.
“Who are you?”
The voice that emerged from the closed helm sounded like Death; it was deep and raspy. If the Mother Prioress felt terror at the sound, she didn’t show it. She bravely lifted her chin in response.
“I am the Mother Prioress of Alberbury,” she said. “What is thy wish? Why hast thou done these terrible things?”
The helmed head didn’t move. He was fixed on the Mother Prioress. “You have a de Velt here,” he said. “Where is she?”
The Mother Prioress struggled not to look confused or intimidated by the fact that the man was asking for a woman in her charge, asking for her by name. It was enough to crack her composure.
“A de Velt?” she repeated, puzzled. “How wouldst thou know this?”
“It does not matter how I know,” the enormous warrior replied. “I have come for her. Where is she?”
The Mother Prioress stared at him, shocked by the request. But it began to occur to her that this was not a random attack. This man wanted something and he wanted it badly enough to ransack a church to get to it. Apprehension clutched at her but she fought it off. She had never been one to give in to apprehension, anyway. It was an unfamiliar taste upon her tongue.
“What doest thou wish of her?” she asked. “The lady is under my care and we are protected by God. Thou cannot have her.”
The helmed head tilted slightly. “In case you have not noticed, God did not save your priory from my army,” he said. “I suspect he will not protect any of you if you do not provide me what I came for. I want the de Velt.”
Fear began to spread through the women and a few of them turned to look at Allaston, although no one singled her out. Still, heads were moving about, including Allaston’s. She was terrified that this man, a man who had shown no fear in burning a house of God, had asked for her. You have a de Velt. Dear God, how would he even know that? More importantly, why did he want her? She struggled not to let fear consume her as she watched the exchange between the warrior and the prioress with a good deal of dread. It was an effort not to shrink back into the shadows because she knew that any movement would single her out. It was imperative she remain still and unnoticed.
The Mother Prioress, however, held firm and did not reveal Allaston’s presence. She might have been a proud woman who ridiculed the weak, but she was also inordinately strong. She wasn’t about to permit this warrior, as bold and deadly as he seemed, to gain the upper hand. She didn’t like to be told what to do.
“Rubbish,” she snorted. “You shalt not have her and since thou hast burned our home, thou will permit us to leave and seek shelter elsewhere.”
The helmed head didn’t react at first. There was a long and tense pause, one filled with mounting terror as far as the women were concerned. Then, the warrior shifted on his enormous legs and the helmed head leaned forward as if to better peer at the stubborn old woman.
“Do you mean to actually deny me?” he asked, a hint of incredulousness in his tone.
The old prioress nodded firmly. “Thou shalt not have what thou hast come for,” she said firmly. “I shalt not give thee any woman in my charge. Be gone with thee.”
The helmed head didn’t hesitate. One of his massive hands shot out and grabbed the prioress around the neck as the women behind her let up a collective scream. As the women wept and shrieked, the warrior pulled the old woman very close to his helm.
“If you do not give her to me, then I will kill you,” he hissed. “When you are dead, I will move to the next woman and demand she give me the de Velt. If that woman denies me, then I will kill her and move to the next one until I am either given the de Velt woman or every one of your nuns is dead. Is this in any way unclear?”
The old prioress was struggling for air. Her vision was dimming but there was fight left in her. She would not be bullied even if it cost her everything. She was far too stubborn to submit and show fear.
“Then kill me,” she rasped. “I will not give thee the woman.”
The knight squeezed and an audible snap could be heard as he broke the prioress’ neck. The nuns began to howl, tightening up their ranks in a fearful huddle as a few knights joined their leader and swarmed upon the nuns, grabbing women and pulling the group apart. It was clear that they intended to separate the women, perhaps to intimidate them in order to gain their wants. Surely one of them would break and tell them what they wished to know.
Allaston stood near the wall with Annie, watching the knights harass the weeping nuns. She was horrified that the leader had killed the Mother Prioress. It has been so quick that they had scarcely believed what he had done until the prioress was lying on the ground in a heap. Allaston had never seen anything so awful in her life.
But the sight of the woman’s body jolted Allaston. She knew that she could not let these women protect her any longer. It would only get all of them killed. True, she was fearful for her own life but she was not so cowardly that she would let others die protecting her. But she simply couldn’t turn herself over, nay. As stubborn and proud as the prioress had been, Allaston was equally stubborn. Sometimes she was foolish, too. She hoped this would not be one of those times. She had to help everyone, including herself. She had to fight!
“Stop!” she roared, pushing between the women that were standing in front of her. “Stop this instant! I am the de Velt!”
The knights, five of them including the one who had killed the prioress, came to a halt in the midst of their assaults. Seeing she had their attention made Allaston second-guess her bravery, but there was no turning back. She faced them with as much courage as she could muster.
“I am Lady Allaston de Velt,” she said, her voice trembling. “What do you wish of me?”
The knight who had killed the prioress seemed to be looking at her. It was hard to tell with his visor down, but she was certain he was fixed on her. Before he could move, however, Annie, who had been standing next to Allaston, piped up.
“I am Lady Allaston de Velt,” she said, breathing heavily and coughing. “I am the one you want.”
Shocked, Allaston looked at her to shush the woman but suddenly, other women were shouting out that they were Allaston, too. Soon, the entire group was demanding that they were Lady Allaston de Velt and there was no stopping the onslaught. Shouts and cries filled the smoky night air.
Allaston was terrified of what the knights would do to them now that it was clear the women were intent on protecting her. She could see necks being broken by big, gloved hands and it filled her heart with fear for her loyal friends. Panic-stricken, she lifted her hands and began to cry out.
“Nay!” she called. “Nay, you will not do this! Please, cease! Do you not see that they will kill all of us? They will think us to be liars!”
Some women listened to her, some didn’t. The ones who seemed most intent on disobeying her were the older nuns, crying out that they were, in fact, the de Velt that the knight was looking for. Allaston had never been so touched by anything in her life, all of these women prepared to sacrifice themselves for her, and the humbling experience drove her to tears. She simply couldn’t let them do it. Frantically, she began waving her hands around.
“Stop!” she cried, moving away from the group as she did so. “Please stop! I am not afraid, do you hear? I am not afraid of him!”
She nearly screamed the last part and most of the nuns quieted down. Terrified, emotional, Allaston turned to the massive knight with the intimidating helm.
“I swear that I am Lady Allaston de Velt,” she insisted, her heart pounding and her breathing coming in frightened gasps. “These women are simply trying to protect me. Please… tell me what you wish of me, but do not harm them. I beg you.”
The knight still hadn’t said a word. His helm was turned in her direction and suddenly, he was moving towards her. He closed the gap rather swiftly, reaching out to grab her harshly by the arm. Allaston gasped in pain as the knight flipped up his visor, his shockingly bright blue eyes boring into her.
“You had better be the de Velt I seek or this situation will not go well for you,” he hissed. “Convince me that you are who you say you are or I will kill everyone here, including you. Tell me now!”
He was growling and snarling, and Allaston was so frightened that she felt faint. But she took a deep breath, struggling to compose herself, as she looked into eyes that were the color of cornflowers. She’d never seen such a bright shade of blue. Her mind was so much mush, overwhelmed with fear, but she fought to clear it. She had to.
“My… my father is Ajax de Velt,” she said, her voice quaking. “My mother is Lady Kellington. I have three brothers and two sisters, and we live at Pelinom Castle in Northumberland.”
The knight’s grip tightened, nearly breaking her arm. “Name your siblings,” he growled. “Quickly!”
She jolted because he shook her to emphasize the speed at which he expected her to deliver the answer. “My eldest brother is Coleby,” she said, verging on tears but fighting against them with every breath. “I have two more brothers, Julian and Cassian. My sisters are Effington and Addington. They are younger than I am.”
The knight’s eyes were blazing, but that blaze was as cold as ice. It was a deadly glare, something Allaston had never seen before, but she began to suspect that she must have given him the right answer because his grip hadn’t tightened. Nor had he otherwise displayed displeasure. In fact, his expression seemed to ease. His features, as much as she could see them through the helm opening, had relaxed. After several anxious moments, the eyes flickered in a calculating gesture.
Nunnery Brides: A Medieval Romance Collection Page 99
