Griswold stomped up the stairs, his accompanying curses as vile as ever.
“Come with me, nun, and bring the brat.” He waved his bandaged hand at her. “Now.”
“But I just got her to sleep.” Something about the way he refused to look at her or the child set her senses on alert. With one glance down at sleeping Sarah and Henry pretending sleep, fear tried to strangle the breath from her chest. She stumbled to the bed determined to stay calm and keep her wits. The fear must not win, if she wanted to save their lives.
“Yeah, well, I do as I’m told, so git.” He stepped into the room and headed toward the bed.
“I’ll get her.” Evangeline leaned down and reached over Henry to pick up little Sarah. “Don’t move. I’ll take care of her.” She whispered. He frowned but remained still.
Never opening her eyes, the sleeping child snuggled into Evangeline’s arms, loosening a fierce determination to protect her little daughter with her life if necessary.
If only Henry were well. The two of them fighting together could have defeated a small army, but her alone? God help them.
Chapter 11
“About time you got down here.” Deverow turned to Evangeline making her tense for battle. “Is she sick? She looks flushed.”
“Tis warm in here.” Evangeline’s voice growled, withholding the anger seething within.
Deverow glared at Evangeline but turned his anger to Rebecca, who stood wide-eyed with fear. “Get ready to travel. We leave within the hour.”
“It will be dark soon. The castle’s guards and vengeful ghosts roam the forest at night.” Evangeline had hoped to have more time. Her mind whirled with her need to escape. She edged back toward the kitchen but when she turned, found her way blocked by Griswold, his arms folded and his feet planted.
“Where you going, Sister?” His voice filled with unspoken accusations.
“To get the child ready to travel.” Keeping her voice low and firm, she hoped to disguise her distress.
“Good!” Deverow waved his hand in her direction to proceed.
Evangeline controlled her impulse to run. She walked towards the kitchen while listening to Deverow’s elevated voice behind her.
“A lackey I paid to warn me of trouble met me on the trail with dire news. He’d passed the King’s guards as they rested their mounts at the Black Swan. We have to leave immediately. According to him, they should arrive by morning.”
Evangeline stopped near the doorway and listened. Help was on its way to the castle, and would pass right by them. All she had to do was to find a way to divert the soldiers here first and keep her charges safe until they arrived.
“Don’t bother with the carriage. Saddle the horses. Take only what we need. We must make it to the coast within the next two days, before the Spaniard sails home. We can sell the brat for enough to disappear without a trace.”
“What’d we do with the nun and his lordship? They know who we are.” Fisher’s words left no doubt of his intent.
“Let her stay and tend Lord Stanton. He ain’t in no shape to follow.” Griswold’s comment surprised her. “We’ll be long gone before they can do us any harm.”
“Fine.” Fisher may have agreed, but Evangeline had no doubt the man would find a reason to slip back into the house and kill them before he left.
With a wave of his hand, Deverow dismissed the men to saddle the horses.
“I ain’t goin’.” Rebecca screamed. She ran past Evangeline and out the opened kitchen door. Fisher started after her.
Evangeline stepped aside but kicked an empty bucket in his path, which caused Fisher to stumble.
“You did that on purpose! I’ll deal with you when I get back.” Cursing, he ran out the door after the girl.
Evangeline took advantage of the mêlée to also slip out of the house. She had to get Sarah somewhere safe before she could return to help Rebecca or Henry.
“Where you think you’re goin’?” Griswold stood in her path, his arms crossed.
“I must save the child. Please let me pass.” She shifted the child to her left hip to free her right arm to fight, if necessary. “God will count letting us pass as a good deed on your behalf.”
“Truly?” Griswold’s expression of hope stirred her conscience.
“Yes. And by doing a good deed, the Danby curse will not harm you.” Relief swooshed over her as he stepped aside.
“Hurry, Sister. Save the little one. The boss won’t be far behind.” He reached out a hand and stopped her. “Pray for me.”
“Of course.” She hurried past him and slipped into the shadows of the burned out barn then into the forest hoping that Helen or Wren were nearby to help. Hopefully she would meet one of her gang as she headed toward the mill.
A woman’s bloodcurdling scream stopped Evangeline only for a second. There was nothing she could do to help Rebecca with Sarah in her arms, but once she found safety for her child, then she would return with a sword as the Fox. A rush of pent up anger and a vow welled up within her. The long awaited revenge against the man hired to kill her would soon be fulfilled.
Chapter 12
Henry listened to a commotion in the distance. Men’s shouts and a woman’s loud wailing stirred him with fear. Sweat poured off of him with the effort it took to push up to a sitting position. His head pounded, and every muscle protested in weak submission.
“God help us.” His throat dry, his voice sounded more like a frog’s croaking. A gaping hole in the thatched roof let in the last of the waning daylight as he sought his boots. He rubbed his eyes to clear his vision, and finally spotted his clothing beside the bed. He pushed up to a standing position. The room spun. He reached out and grabbed onto the sturdy bedpost until the spinning ceased. Every movement slow and determined, he dressed then bent down to fetch his boots. It took a good portion of his strength to tug them on. Sarah being in danger kept him going. Taking a deep breath, he stood again. He barely made it to a primitive chair near the door before his legs buckled.
He could not remember feeling so weak or helpless. The pounding in his head increased as he fought to stay focused. He reached for the water bucket that sat on the table nearby and dipped in the hollowed out gourd and drank deeply from its contents.
Another scream. The nursemaid.
He dropped the gourd.
Panic shoved him forward to the stairway. Pausing to get his breath, he braced against the wall and listened to the voices that echoed up from two floors below.
“What do you mean she got away? How could a nun carrying a babe outrun you?” The sound of flesh hitting flesh carried up the stairs.
“I saw the direction she took before I caught up with this wench.” A man’s voice full of anger. Furniture scraped, and then more wails of the nanny, Rebecca.
“Looks like this little serving girl fought like a lion from them scratches on your face, Fisher.” The croaking voice again.
“Griswold, shut up and go saddle the horses. I don’t have time for this. Fisher, find the brat and bring her back here unharmed. She’s worth her weight in gold. I don’t care what you do to the nun.”
The nun had escaped with his daughter? Determination pushed Henry to the top of the stairs. The distance down was steep and daunting. One slip could cost him his life. His hand shook as he clasped the railing. Leaning heavily on its support, his progress was as excruciatingly slow as it was painful. His aching head and body protested every step.
“Move, wench. Help the Frenchman pack up the food and…” The voice faded as the man walked away.
Halfway down the second stairway, Henry froze in place. His legs threatened to forsake him. He sank to the stair tread to rest, releasing the breath he held when the man with an eye patch passed by the stairway. Thankfully the brigand had been too focused on berating the girl to glance Henry’s way.
Rebecca. By her all too familiar high-pitched whimpers, Henry recognized the nanny as she passed by. She was disheveled and once again near hysteria.
Henry wiped the sweat out of his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. One thought drove him past his pain. Save Sarah.
Standing, he continued his slow journey down the stairs until he made it to the bottom. His breath came in gulping gasps, and his heart pounded from the exertion. How was he going to escape if he could neither run nor fight?
With no time to entertain such doubts, he determined first to escape the house. One foot in front of another. Focus. He saw the open window and headed toward it, away from the murmurs he heard from the other room.
Footsteps headed his way, propelling him forward. The window was almost as large as a door, allowing him to sit down on the frame and swing his legs over the edge while holding onto the sides. His wounded body protested as he eased down to the soft ground beneath and waited. He dare not move while the person was in the room, lest he be discovered. He was impatient to be off, but his weary body welcomed the rest.
Brushing against the bush that hid him released the plant’s strong scent and stirred a memory. Henry broke off a leaf and rubbed it between his fingers. Closing his eyes he drew in scent. The spicy aroma reminded him of long walks in the garden with Evangeline. A fresh reminder of his heavy burden of grief he’d carried since Evangeline’s death.
The footsteps hesitated not far from the window as another person with a heavy tread walked into the room.
“Boss, the horses be saddled and ready to go.” The voice of the croaking mocker was now subdued.
“Good. Go help Fisher look for the child, but, brat or no, we leave within the hour.” The man cursed, his tone rising in anger. “That nun’s gonna pay for the trouble she’s caused. Kill her if you find her, but take care you don’t harm the child. We won’t collect a farthing if she is injured.” The sound of the heavy tread of a big man scraped against the pine floor. Then the second man left.
Henry watched the big man exit the house, hesitate and glance from side to side as if deciding which direction to go. Torch light bobbed in the distance then disappeared into the forest.
Henry pressed back against the rough exterior of the house. He was well hidden unless the big man drew close enough to hear his labored breathing. The man lumbered away as if in no hurry. Another person hobbled up to the big man.
“Griswold, we leave now! Oui? Killing a nun? No good.” He crossed himself. “I have supplies packed in the bags of the last two horses.” He beckoned with a wave of his hand, and limped toward the closest horse. “Help me mount and let’s go before the boss sees us.”
With a grunt of disapproval Griswold boosted the Frenchman onto his horse and handed him the reins.
“Stop!” The one-eyed man ran toward the two men, a sword in his hand.
Griswold slapped the Frenchman’s horse and sent him galloping away then turned to meet his boss with a raised left hand.
“Let the Frenchman go. He would only slow us down because of his wound. That means more money for the rest of us. Right?” Griswold stood his ground. His uninjured hand rested on his short sword in a silent reminder that he was also armed.
“I say who goes.” One-eye took a step toward Griswold. With a growl of displeasure, he stopped and pointed in the direction the first man had gone. “Go help Fisher retrieve the brat so we can all escape before first light.” He waved for him to leave. “I will make sure the nanny and the horses are ready to go when you return.” The two parted ways when the one-eyed brigand stalked to the house.
With no one in sight, Henry stood, wobbled and grabbed the window’s frame to steady himself. A prayer for protection and strength slipped from his lips, then another for wisdom to find his daughter and the nun who took her. Somehow he knew she would keep his child safe.
He winced as he stepped out of his hiding place. Staying here to wait for those cutthroats to capture little Sarah was not an option.
“Lord, please help me.” Henry stumbled toward a horse saddled and ready for the brigand’s escape. In his weakened condition, the animal would be his best way to find Sarah and the nun. There wasn’t time to search for the King’s guards.
He ran his hand down the horse’s neck and spoke softly to soothe the animal then pulled a large wooden bucket beside it. The extra height of the upside down bucket helped him mount with minimal exertion. Still, his wounds throbbed in a constant pain-filled rhythm making them hard to ignore. The last time he’d been on a horse pursuing the kidnappers had not ended well. This time he had to succeed or risk losing his daughter forever.
He turned the horse toward the path the big man had gone. The brigand seemed to know how to track Fisher.
Chapter 13
Evangeline held the baby close and jogged through the trees until the foliage grew dense. She slowed to push through.
“A-r-a-a-g-h!” A man was not far behind her. She pressed through the thicket and hid behind a large oak.
“Who are you?” Fisher’s challenge was ignored.
“Leave now and we may let you live.” That voice was unmistakably Helen’s imitation of her male persona as a member of Fox’s gang.
Suddenly steel clanged against steel. Evangeline held the child close and remained hidden.
Relief was short lived as a hand reached out and touched Evangeline’s shoulder.
“Shush. We’re here to help you and the wee babe, sister.” Wren stepped closer. “We need to hurry. There is another man coming who is very big.” She tugged Evangeline away from the tree.
“How many are here to help?” Evangeline feared for her friends, knowing these brigands were trained killers.
“Others have been summoned, but only the Shepherdess and I have arrived, so far.”
“Here, take the child and give me your sword. I will help H…the Shepherdess.”
“Fox?” The woman’s voice rose in alarm.
“No time to explain. Take the child and guard her with your life. We will meet at our usual place when we’re done.” None of the others had the skills or ability to help Helen like Evangeline. If Fisher escaped this conflict, then he would continue to pursue her child. He could not be allowed to leave this glen.
Reluctance warred with necessity as she delivered her child into the young woman’s waiting arms. She gently touched Sarah’s cheek before she took the sword and turned away.
The nun’s habit was too cumbersome. She pulled off her wimple, the one-piece head covering would hinder her vision, followed by the heavy habit, dropping both on the ground near a big oak. The remaining rough-spun linen shift hung to her ankles, but did little to ward off the night’s chill. If only she had the freedom of movement that breeches and tunic afforded. Grabbing the sword, she rushed forward to help her friend.
“Fight on!” Evangeline shouted their childhood motto. They used it when they trained against the castle guards to give them courage. Her yell gave Helen warning that it was Evangeline as she appeared at her friend’s side. The intermittent clouds parted for a moment and allowed the moon to highlight the clearing and their opponent.
“I recognize your voice, nun. You have kept your beauty well hidden.” Fisher swung his sword in an arc, bowed and grinned. “I shall enjoy this.” His right arm bled from a fresh wound, though his actions didn’t appear to be hindered. He lunged toward them then stepped back in an effort to intimidate them.
“You should be far from here.” Helen scolded her friend before she circled to her right. Evangeline instinctively circled to the left. They moved in a natural rhythm after years of sparing together as youths. Their training had taught them to put their much stronger opponents at a disadvantage until one of them could strike the immobilizing blow. Divide and conquer. A hunting technique learned from the way the wolf pack took down its prey.
The darkness was their friend with only the moonlight’s spotty appearance. Fog swirled around their feet, muting the surrounding forest sounds and dulling the crude taunts of their enemy.
“Enough of this.” Fisher swung his sword first at Helen then Evangeline, no longer amused at the bl
ows they had landed that left him bleeding in many places. His sparring took on urgency as he rushed Helen.
She caught her foot on an exposed root and went down. Her head hit the trunk of a tree with a sickening thump. Her body lay limp and unmoving.
“No!” Evangeline rushed toward Fisher as he raised his sword to strike her defenseless friend.
Fisher turned and swung, knocking the sword from Evangeline’s grip. He grabbed her clothing and jerked her toward him before she could recover.
“You are very beautiful. I shall have my way with you before you die.” His breath was foul as he pressed his mouth against hers.
Anger surged at his touch. Evangeline pushed against him with one hand and searched for her cross and the blade that was hidden within, but it was trapped between their bodies. She relaxed her stance, taking him off guard. Jerking free, she slammed her fist into the wounded shoulder Fisher received taking Henry’s carriage. He dropped his sword and bellow in rage.
“Now you will die a slow death!” Fisher grabbed her before she could escape. He fumbled to draw his knife.
“I don’t think so.” Griswold jerked the smaller man off his feet.
Fisher loosed his hold on Evangeline.
“Let me go.” Fisher pulled his knife and jabbed at Griswold as Fisher dangled above the ground. “I shall kill you, too.”
The attack only made Griswold angrier.
“You will be the one to die.” Griswold growled and shook his captive like a dog shakes a rat.
Evangeline grabbed her fallen sword and turned to aid Griswold.
The Secret Life of Lady Evangeline Page 12
