Somewhere up ahead, she could see a bridge, lit by torches against the blackness of the night. There were men up there, too, even though it was very late and they were more than likely protecting the crossing. Perhaps they were even there to keep her from crossing, men that Gaetan had paid to keep her inside this dark stench-filled city.
If Gaetan has paid those men to keep me here, then I must take their attention away from the bridge!
Ghislaine could only think of sneaking past those men. She could see two, at least, as she drew closer. The river was surrounded by foliage and grass and, before she sank down into it to hide, she picked up several small rocks from the path she was walking on. As she faded into the foliage to watch the bridge at close range, Camulos wandered after her.
The bridge itself was wooden and not very well made. It looked as if it had been the victim of too many repairs. As the men at the mouth of the bridge huddled around a fire and drank from a wooden pitcher, Ghislaine began to throw rocks under the bridge, sometimes hitting the wood, sometimes hitting the water. She wanted those men to go down and see what it was so that she could slip across the bridge. Her leg may have been weak, but her arms were strong. She was able to throw the rocks far enough to adequately hit the wood of the bridge.
As she hoped, the men on guard were startled by the sounds of the rocks and immediately went to investigate. Ghislaine hurried out of her hiding place and onto the rickety bridge, hearing the men down below by the river as they spoke to one another, unable to find the source of the sounds that had drawn them away from their posts.
But to Ghislaine, it was the sound of hope – hope that she would escape that terrible town where Gaetan had left her. Even with her bad leg, she was able to shuffle across the bridge quickly enough so that by the time the guards returned to their warm fire, she was already on the other side, in the trees where they couldn’t see her.
Now, she had a fighting chance to find Gaetan.
In the dark, in the dead of night, she simply began to wander.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
‡
The Hunted
“You know he’s in love with her.”
It was a statement, not a question, coming from Luc de Lara. He was standing with Wellesbourne, de Reyne, de Moray, and St. Hèver in front of the tavern where the knights had spent several hours eating, drinking, and having a rare and relaxed conversation. They were currently waiting for the rest of the men – de Wolfe, de Russe, du Reims, de Winter, and Jathan to finish relieving themselves back behind the tavern in a communal toilet. They’d all had a few visits to it during the course of the night but now that they were leaving, there were those who needed to make one final visit.
Those who didn’t were standing in the dark street and it was de Lara’s quiet statement that hung in the air between them now. The mood had gone from warm and satisfied to uncomfortable all in a split second.
“Who?” Wellesbourne said. “De Russe? That much is obvious. I have not seen him pay so much attention to a woman since Abbeville, at least two years ago. Do you remember? The potter’s daughter.”
De Reyne snorted. “His father would never permit it,” he said. “The Count of Roeselare would never stand for his son to marry such a low-born woman.”
De Lara nodded. “He puts a great deal of pressure on Aramis to marry well. No wonder the man tries to stay away from women; his father has all but turned him off of them. But the Earl of Mercia’s sister is another matter altogether.”
“He will never have her,” de Moray, the grumpy old man of the group, spoke softly. When the others looked at him, curiously, he simply shook his head. “She will marry another.”
“Who?” de Reyne wanted to know.
De Moray looked at the collection of men, his brow furrowed. “Have you not seen the way Gate behaves with her? It is not only de Russe who is in love with her, but de Wolfe. I have seen lesser women tear apart strong men so I would be lying if I said this does not concern me.”
De Reyne cast a long glance at St. Hèver, who simply shook his head. “Gaetan is not in love with her,” Kye said quietly. “Interested, I would believe, but the man is not in love with her. I do not believe he knows how.”
“Gate has Adéle warming his bed,” de Reyne put in. “She has already given him two sons. He has no need for anyone else, least of all a Saxon woman.”
St. Hèver nodded in agreement. “If anything, he will take her as a concubine.”
“Until he tires of her,” de Reyne said knowingly.
“Exactly.”
Those two seemed to agree but the others did not. De Lara put up his hands in a supplicating gesture.
“Are you two so blind that you do not see it?” he asked. “Watch how he behaves around her and then you will understand what I mean. De Russe may be in love with the woman but I can promise you that Gaetan is as well. Did you not see how he held her hand when that fossil of an apothecary was carving into her leg? That, good knights, is a man who feels something. Mark my words.”
“Why did you let me drink so much?”
The question came from around the side of the tavern as de Winter suddenly appeared, groaning, followed by Aramis, Gaetan, and the others. The group at the front of the tavern instantly quieted their gossip as the others came to join them. Now, Denis de Winter was evidently miserable and was blaming everyone but himself, so the subject shifted from talk of Gaetan and Aramis to de Winter’s spinning head.
“I can feel the world rock when I close my eyes, which means tomorrow my head will be swollen,” Denis said. “Someone should have stopped me.”
Téo, walking beside him and grinning, slapped the man on the back. “Your head is already swollen and misshapen no matter what you do,” he said. “You have the biggest head I have ever seen.”
De Winter put both hands on his head, outraged. “I do not.”
“It’s the size of a full moon, Denis. I am surprised you can get it into your helm.”
De Winter scowled at him. “Then my head must reflect the size of my manhood,” he sneered. “I can hardly get it into my trousers.”
“That’s not what she said.”
Soft laughter erupted from the group but Denis didn’t like that fact that he was evidently being insulted on his most important body parts. “Who is she? I demand to know.”
Téo simply laughed at him, shaking his head at a drunken de Winter who had a big head and an even bigger manroot. He looked at Gaetan, who was smirking at de Winter as the man looked down into his trousers to make sure he was as well-endowed as he thought he was.
“God’s Bones,” Gaetan muttered, yawning because of the late hour. “The conversations we have among us are most enlightening. Denis, stop looking at yourself. There is something inherently vulgar about that.”
De Winter shrugged but he stopped looking. Then he turned his back on Téo, farted loudly, and walked away. Téo, under a gas assault, waved his hands to chase off the stench and moved well away. In fact, all of the knights shifted, shoving de Winter back into the area of his own smell. Gaetan rubbed at his forehead, knowing they were all weary and somewhat inebriated, and that sleep was in order before all of the farting and insults grew out of hand.
“I am going back to the apothecary’s hut,” he told them. “I will take Téo and Jathan with me. The rest of you can either sleep in the tavern or in the livery, but return to the apothecary at dawn.”
The men nodded to the orders. “But what if Lady Ghislaine is not well enough to travel?” de Moray asked. “What then?”
That was the question all of them were asking. Gaetan folded his enormous arms in front of his chest in a pensive gesture.
“I suppose we shall decide that tomorrow,” he said. “If the fever is broken, then we shall continue with her. But if it is not, then I suppose she will have to remain. We are close enough to Alary of Mercia’s lair that we more than likely do not need her any longer. The lady and I were speculating earlier today that if Alary is still t
raveling as slowly as he was when we departed Westerham, then he is a few days behind us, if not more. There will be plenty of time to intercept him and reclaim Kristoph. I am sure the lady would like to be there when we do.”
“She is only our guide, Gate,” Wellesbourne said, which caused everyone to look at him in various stages of disapproval. He grew defensive. “All I am saying is that she has served her purpose. The lady was gravely injured because of us so, mayhap, it is time to relieve her of this burden. I have been in this land enough to be able to find Tenebris, so we do not need her any longer. Moreover, when we meet up with her brother, there is going to be a fight and it does not seem fair to drag her into our battle when she is already injured.”
Gaetan remained even tempered as the others frowned at Bartholomew. “She saved Kristoph from death the day he was captured,” he reminded the man. “We have gotten this far because of her. She has served a valuable purpose and I would no more cast her aside than I would cast one of you aside. Unless anyone has any objections, she will continue to be a part of our contingent while we are on this mission.”
No one seemed to have any objections and Wellesbourne remained silent, fearful that saying any more would only antagonize the group that was clearly sympathetic towards the lady. But Gaetan’s words only seemed to underscore what de Lara had said earlier, about Gaetan being in love with the woman. The Gaetan he knew would have never spared such concern for a woman. Now, the knights were starting to see it, or at least some of them were.
Gaetan wasn’t aware of their thoughts, of course, but he was eager to get back to the apothecary because he’d been gone longer than he’d anticipated. It had been cathartic to sit with his men over hot food and enjoy good conversation. Even so, his thoughts were never far from Ghislaine. He’d relived that stolen kiss a few times, wondering what it would be like when she actually returned his kisses. The thought had made him smile.
Now, he glanced up in the sky, seeing that the stars had changed because of the late hour. The moon was sitting low on the horizon as clouds drifted across the heavens.
“If no one has anything more to say, then seek your beds, all of you,” he said. “I will see you on the morrow.”
As he turned in the direction of the apothecary’s hut with Téo beside him, Aramis stepped forward. “I would like to go with you to see if the lady’s condition has changed,” he said politely.
Gaetan’s gaze lingered on him a moment. Even though there was an understanding between them about Ghislaine, he didn’t want Aramis hanging around her. He wanted that right reserved for himself. But he couldn’t deny the man because everyone would wonder why he had, so he simply waved him on. As he started to walk, he realized that the entire group was following him, even Wellesbourne, because they all wanted to see how the lady was faring.
Realizing this would now be a group effort, Gaetan simply led the way. In truth, he was pleased that his battle-hardened men were showing their compassion and concern. They’d been through so much death and destruction together that sometimes he wondered if they still had that capacity. He’d often wondered if he still did, but the past several days had shown him that they all did, still. Beneath the warrior facades, there was still something decent beneath although, when in action upon the field of battle, it was difficult to see otherwise.
The apothecary’s hut was an odd-shaped structure that was attached to more structures that belonged to the avenue behind him, which was a street of bakers and grain brokers. In fact, Gaetan had almost missed the apothecary’s door the first time because it was lodged in a half-moon-shaped annex that attached to his hut, all of it set back from the street. This time, he knew exactly where he was going and, putting a finger to his lips to silence the conversation behind him, he opened the door and ducked inside.
That earthy, musty smell was the first thing Gaetan was aware of as he came through the door. It was so dark that he literally couldn’t see anything and he stumbled in the general direction of the bed where he’d left Ghislaine.
Behind him, he could hear his men bumping around and he shushed them, irritated that there wasn’t so much as a taper lit in the room. As he put his hand out, knowing the bed was somewhere nearby, someone struck a flint and stone behind him. A soft yellow glow flickered in the room and he turned to see the apothecary light the taper by his head.
“Apologies, my lord,” the old man said. “I fell asleep and did not realize the candle had gone out as well.”
He was lifting the taper as he spoke but when his gaze fell on the bed, he suddenly came to a halt. Seeing the old man’s puzzled expression, Gaetan whirled around to see what had the old man stumped and he, too, saw the empty bed. So did the other knights. After a moment’s shock to digest the unexpected sight, everyone was suddenly dropping to their knees, looking on the floor, searching for the lady who had evidently fallen from the bed. That included Gaetan; he lifted the bed up to get a look underneath.
But it only took a few moments to realize that Ghislaine wasn’t on the floor. She hadn’t fallen off and rolled under one of the cluttered tables, nor was she rolled up in a corner. She wasn’t anywhere to be found. Now, the realization set in that she was not in the hut at all. She was gone.
Gaetan turned accusing eyes to the apothecary.
“Where is she?” he boomed.
The old man wasn’t easily rattled, but he was showing some concern. “I was here the entire time, though asleep,” he admitted. “But she could not have left. I could not have been asleep for that long.”
Gaetan threw the bed to the ground, breaking off two of the legs. “You were asleep long enough that someone came in and took her,” he snarled. In a rage, he reached out and grabbed the old man. “You said you would watch over her!”
The old man was fragile and in danger of being crushed. “Kill me and I cannot help you!” he cried with more emotion than they had seen from him since the beginning. “Let me go!”
De Lara, nearest Gaetan, reached out to ease the man’s hands off the old man’s bird-like arms. When the old man stumbled back, finally freed, he picked up a stick that was laying on the table next to him and backed away, holding up the stick in front of him defensively as de Lara, and then Téo, pulled Gaetan back so he wouldn’t kill the old man.
There was horrible tension in the air with the realization that Ghislaine had disappeared. Apprehension fed rage. Sensing this, the apothecary knew he had to explain himself or risk being torn apart by nine angry-looking men.
It would be a terrible death.
“I would have heard if someone had entered,” the old man said, shaken. “The lady would have made noise, at least. And that big ugly dog you left would have barked. No one took her!”
That big ugly dog you left would have barked. That sentence stopped Gaetan’s rage, at least for the moment. “The dog,” he said, looking around frantically. “Did anyone see Cam?”
The knights were all shaking their heads, tensed up and waiting for the next command. But de Russe was already moving for the door.
“We cannot stand around and discuss this,” Aramis said, his voice edgy. “If no one took her out of here, then she must have left under her own power and the dog went with her. The old man is right; Cam would have barked had there been a struggle and I’m sure the old man would have awoken as well. With that leg, she could not have gone far. We must find her.”
That made as much sense as anything else and Gaetan was struggling not to panic. He’d never been so rattled in his entire life. “How could she walk out with her leg as injured as it was?” he wanted to know. “Walking would have been impossible.”
De Russe, near the door, looked at him. “You have said yourself she is a determined brave woman,” he said. “It must not have been impossible, for she is clearly gone.”
She was, indeed, and they had to find her. There was no more time for speculation. Gaetan moved away from the old man, following de Russe out of the door as the rest of the knights followed. The las
t person out was Jathan, who felt rather badly for the terrified old man. He’d nearly been torn apart limb from limb for falling asleep. As the others ran out, he paused.
“Be calm, my friend,” he said quietly. “Those men are the Anges de Guerre. They are fearsome, but they are not reckless. You have saved their Saxon guide and although they are fearful for her safety, they will respect you because you helped her. It is their fear for her safety that causes them to behave so. If she returns, keep her here.”
The old man still kept the stick up between him and the rather round knight who looked more like a priest in the brown robes he wore. He couldn’t even find comfort in the words. All he knew was that a very big man had just tried to kill him, so he kept the stick up in front of him even as the man in the brown robes quit the hut.
After they were gone, Mannig threw the wooden bar across the door and locked it.
But no one heard the bar being set; they were focused on finding Ghislaine. As Gaetan, Téo, de Reyne, de Moray, and Wellesbourne began milling around the apothecary’s hut and branching outward, searching the buildings surrounding the hut and every little crevice they could find, de Russe, de Winter, and St. Hèver went running towards the livery to collect their horses and search on horseback. They could cover more ground that way.
There was a huge sense of urgency among them, each man concerned for the safety of their little guide. Up by The Kings Head, where they’d recently eaten, there were fatted torches outside of the establishment, shoved into iron sconces and smoking heavily, but it was the only bit of light on the street so de Reyne and de Lara went to steal them. With the moon low in the sky, the city was in near darkness and they very much needed the light.
Now, with something to light their way, the knights went about calling Ghislaine’s name in the darkness, trying doors and, if unlocked, sticking their heads inside to see what was beyond. They startled more than one person that way. As de Russe and the others disappeared into the livery across from the cathedral, de Lara followed behind them with his torch. He was just crossing the road when he suddenly came to a halt.
Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume 1 Page 25
