“Go to your friend, nun. I shall take care of this vermin.” Griswold dropped Fisher and kicked him in the side. “It’s time I teach you a lesson, little man.”
Fisher jumped up and swung his blade at Griswold.
While the battle raged on between the brigands, Evangeline rushed to Helen’s side. Dread stole her breath. Her friend lay crumbled at the foot of the tree, still as death.
“Helen.” Evangeline brushed back the hood of her tunic, but the darkness made it hard to assess her friend’s injuries. She could smell the coppery scent of blood and felt a sticky mass on her forehead where she must have struck the trunk of the ancient oak. Leaning closer, she placed her fingers below Helen’s nose to feel for the slightest sign of breath. Her hand shook too much to be sure. Grief pooled in her gut at the thought of losing her best friend. She should have done something more to save her.
“Please, Lord, let her live.” She clutched Helen’s hand and patted it trying to awaken her.
“Oh-h, my head.” Helen groaned, tugged her hand free and rubbed her forehead. “What happened?”
Relief swooshed out of Evangeline in a tear-filled gush of thanksgiving to God.
“You hit a tree.” She helped Helen sit up.
The curses of the warring brigands grew more intense.
Fisher recovered his sword. Steel clanged against steel.
Griswold kept pushing Fisher away from the women’s position, but by the intermittent moonlight she could tell Griswold was weakening. In spite of Griswold’s superior size, strength, and prowess with the sword, Fisher remained in the fight. Concern quickened Evangeline. No matter who won the battle, she and Helen needed to leave now.
“Can you stand?”
“I think so.” Helen groaned when Evangeline helped her up. She put a hand on the tree and took a deep breath. “I’m a bit wobbly.” She started to sink back to the ground. “Maybe I should rest here. You go.”
“I’m not going without you.” Evangeline slipped an arm around her friend’s waist to help support her.
The loud crash of a large animal charging through the brush startled the women. A man on horseback appeared on the far side of the clearing. The two brigands fell to the ground followed by an anguished cry then silence. It was too dark to see which of the fallen men had survived, for the gathering ground fog covered them like a shroud. The horseman stopped. Hopefully, his attention remained on the brigands, and he would not notice their escape.
“We need to go.” Evangeline whispered. She practically carried her friend as they slipped into the forest and headed for their meeting place. Why none of their group had arrived worried her.
“Who did you send to summon the gang?” She slowed her pace to allow Helen to catch her breath.
“I sent Wren’s little boy to tie the scarlet cord on the maple tree near the road as a sign to meet. Wren came with me. We met Mouse on the trail.” She stumbled, and Evangeline caught her and kept her from falling. An urgency to keep going thumped against her chest, but she stopped at a downed tree and let her friend sit. They both needed a brief rest.
“I wanted to get back to help you and sent Mouse before evening to the meeting place with instructions to send the others to the farm when they arrived.”
“Don’t you find it strange that none of the others arrived?”
“It’s possible that the cord came loose, or perhaps no one saw it before it grew dark.” Helen’s tone was less than confident.
“I sent Wren with my daughter to the mill to wait for us.” Evangeline’s voice lowered to a husky groan. A dark premonition chilled her spine. Fear sent her to her feet.
“I would tell you to go without me, but I know you won’t. We must hurry.” Helen stood and grabbed Evangeline’s arm for support.
There was no time to waste.
Chapter 14
Henry urged his reluctant mount forward into the darkness, grateful for his years hunting and tracking game. The process of following the brigand through the unfamiliar forest had been excruciatingly slow, having to stop every few minutes to listen for his quarry’s progress. Thankfully, the angry man’s heavy tread and curses made it possible to keep on track even in the dark.
He arrived at a glen and glimpsed movement on the far side. Two shadowy figures disappeared into the forest.
Suddenly his horse snorted and reared, almost unseating him. Barely visible beneath the ground fog, bodies lay in aheap a few feet ahead. Was the nun among them? Before he could dismount to investigate, one person cursed, sat up, and shoved away from a larger body, stirring the fog around him.
“Get down. I need that horse.” He recognized Fisher’s voice. The man stood, staggered, then straightened. He stumbled toward Henry and raised his arm. The moonshine glinted off the knife in his fist.
“I think not.” With a flick of his wrist and a heel to the animal’s side, Henry reined the horse sharply so that its rear-end clipped the man, knocking him down. Turning the horse in the direction of the escaping figures, he left the angry Fisher cursing and sprawled on the ground.
Had one of those escaping figures been the nun? The horse shied when it reached the far side of the glen where Henry thought he’d seen movement. He calmed the horse with soothing words and stroked his neck. A dark heap lay near the base of the tree.
Anger rose like a flaming torch set to dry brush. If Fisher had harmed the nun, he would silence the brigand for good.
Dread swirled in his chest like the fog set in motion by the horse’s impatient movement. He dismounted, keeping a hand on the horse’s reins.
Kneeling down, he reached for the heap.
A knife whizzed past his head and stuck into the oak. He jerked around to see another figure rise from the fog and slam Fisher to the ground. Angry words and a scuffle stirred the fog like boiling porridge.
There was no time to intervene. Henry pulled the steel blade from the tree and turned his attention back to the bundle at his knee.
One touch of the cloth revealed no body beneath it. Drawing the coarse fabric closer to his face, he recognized the scent of lavender and honey. It was the nun’s covering and veil. Relief warred with urgency. Where was his child?
He tucked the knife in his waistband. The more he moved the more strength grew within him, yet his bruised and aching body protested his actions. He gritted his teeth and mounted the horse then headed in the direction he’d seen the two figures escape.
Evangeline helped Helen through the forest, their progress too slow to suit her impatience. She feared for the safety of her daughter, but she wouldn’t leave her injured friend behind.
They were almost at the meeting place when she heard a commotion. Women’s voices were raised in anger.
“I’m fine. Let’s hurry.” Helen’s expression of weariness and pain did not match her words of assurance, but Evangeline nodded and they jogged the remaining distance.
“Thank the Lord you’re here.” The young mother they called Sparrow waved the torch she held and beckoned Evangeline toward a body on the ground. “Wren’s been stabbed.”
The injured woman was on the ground positioned on a stretcher made of two saplings connected by a large cape.
“Where’s the child?” Panic edged Evangeline’s gravelly voice to a familiar growl as she scanned each face.
The women stared at Evangeline with wide-eyed surprise.
“Yes, she is also the Fox.” Helen settled down on the nearest stump, weariness filled her voice. “She gave Wren a toddler to bring here for safety. Has anyone seen the little girl?”
“No. We found Wren alone and bleeding when we arrived.” Murmurs of agreement passed between Sparrow, Robin and Owl.
Evangeline knelt down to examine Wren and motioned to Sparrow to bring the torch closer. Wren had a serious shoulder wound by the amount of blood soaked through the linen covering it. “Bring me some moss. Quickly! There’s plenty near the stream.”
Owl rushed away to gather what was needed and returned within minutes. Evangeline
packed the wound with the moss securing it with a strip of cloth she tore from the hem of her shift.
The bleeding had stopped but Wren’s eyes were closed, her face pale as death.
“Wren, who did this to you?” Evangeline took a deep breath to gain control of her emotions and fought the urge to shake the unconscious woman for answers. Instead, she gently brushed dirt from the young woman’s face. “Where’s Sarah?”
“When we arrived, Wren kept mumbling something about a mouse. Do you think she meant Mouse did this?” Robin wrung her hands in despair. “She’s the only one missing.”
“I fear she is our traitor.” Helen stood. Pain etched her brow. “I think I know where she’s gone.”
“Can you get Wren to the castle?” Evangeline glanced at the women and saw the nods. “Good. There is someone there who can help her. I’ll come as soon as I can. If the wound should begin bleeding again, apply pressure until it stops.” She put a hand on Sparrow’s shoulder. “Please, Lord, give them strength, speed and safety for their task. And please save Wren’s life. Amen.” The women mumbled amen and crossed themselves. A solemn reverence filled the clearing, melting away fear and giving place to faith-filled determination.
Sparrow handed Evangeline the torch, then stooped to pick up one end of the stretcher, and the other two young women picked up the other end. Without further discussion they headed toward the road that led to the castle.
Evangeline turned toward Helen.
“Where do you think Mouse has gone?”
“I believe she’s made a bargain with the devil.” Helen’s countenance turned to fury. The transformation stunned and alarmed Evangeline with her intensity. She had always admired her friend’s ability to control her emotions and stay calm in spite of the circumstance. The Helen who stood before her now was anything but passive and calm. “Ox will pay with his life if he harms the child.”
“Ox?” Evangeline followed Helen as she headed the short distance to the abandoned mill where their disguises were hidden. She placed the torch in an iron bracket on the wall. The light brightened the dark room.
Each in their own thoughts, Evangeline donned her disguise as the Fox. She tugged on the leggings and tunic with muted tones of the forest but left the grotesque hood in its hiding place. The fear of being recognized was not as great as the need to be free of any hindrance that would keep her from seeing more clearly in the darkness any opponent who got in her way.
Helen dressed in a tunic and leggings and refastened her red hair within the leather strip, which had come loose in her battle. A large knot and dark bruise marred her forehead. She stumbled then righted, rubbed her neck then picked up a sword from their stash and swung it to limber her arm.
“Are you in much pain?” Evangeline asked her friend as they exited the mill. She took the torch and put it out by shoving it into the dirt. No sense leading an enemy to their camp.
“Not in as much pain as Mouse will be when I reach her.” Helen led the way toward the trail that would take them to the Black Swan. “If she has harmed Sarah, she won’t live long enough to feel anything but the cold steel of my sword.”
Evangeline prayed that would not be necessary, that Sarah would be safe and waiting for her when they arrived at the tavern.
Chapter 15
The rosy hue of early morning sun lit the dawn before Henry reached an old abandoned mill. A torch had been put out and left stuck in the ground. The tracks revealed many people had congregated here not long ago. His heart skipped a beat when he saw blood on the ground. There had been no blood on the trail along the way. There was no sign of the nun or his daughter. Perhaps he was on the wrong trail.
He dismounted and led the horse down a gentle slope to the water to drink. Sinking to his knees, he also quenched his thirst. His muscles protested every movement. He couldn’t afford to rest long. Not if he wanted to catch up with his quarry. There had been two sets of prints he’d followed here. By their small size, he suspected both were women or youths.
Tugging the horse’s head up from the tender grass where he grazed, Henry remounted and searched the clearing again for signs of the ones he’d been following.
“There!” His voice disturbed the silence and sent a flock of starlings fleeing the trees in mass, squawking in loud protest for being disturbed. Startled, Henry’s mount danced sideways, tensed then bucked stiff-legged. Henry fought for control to calm the animal. His body protested the hard pounding, jerks and twists of the frightened horse’s actions. The abuse to his injured torso beaded his forehead with sweat and loosed more aches and pains. His ribs burned and his head pounded with every heartbeat. He spewed a few choice words before he got his temper and the frightened animal under control. Anger at the stupid beast was pointless. He had to find the nun. Losing control now was not an option if he wanted to save his daughter.
In spite of his horse’s hoof prints marring the area, he spotted several sets of footprints. One group of people had set off in one direction, but the shoe print with the slight indent on the heel was the one he sought. Its wearer went the opposite way, down a narrow trail. The worn path meant he could press the horse to go faster. He would catch up with who he hoped was the nun and her friend.
Providing he was actually following the nun. He ignored the doubt that had plagued him from the start of his quest and pressed his heels into the bay’s side. His precious Evangeline had often told him when he wrestled with a hard decision to always follow his heart. Everything within him urged him onward.
Decision made.
At the sound of a horse galloping on the trail behind them, Evangeline and Helen slipped through the foliage and hid. They couldn’t see the rider from their location, but then he couldn’t see them either. Had Fisher acquired a horse? The rider continued on without slowing.
Fear pressed Evangeline to increase her pace in spite of her exhaustion. It had been a long night without food or rest.
Remaining on alert for more travelers, they hurried toward the inn. They reached the Black Swan but stayed hidden in the tree line as they drew closer. A large group of villagers stood outside the entrance murmuring amongst themselves.
Evangeline and Helen made their way around to the back and slipped inside. It took a few seconds for their eyes to adjust to the darkened interior of the back storage room.
“Have you seen a nun and child come this way?” A man demanded as if he were out of breath yet someone in authority.
“No nun.” Several started talking at once.
Evangeline and Helen edged toward the doorway that led into the great room of the tavern and peeked inside.
“Henry!” Evangeline’s gasp of alarm was lost in the roar of the crowd, as if each patron tried to have his voice heard. Helen grabbed her arm and frowned. She put a finger to her lips for silence. Evangeline nodded then turned her attention back to the scene before them.
“Enough! One at a time.” Henry pointed to a younger man standing closest. “You. What happened here?” He pointed to a fat man and woman lying dead on the floor covered in blood. “Who are they?”
“That there’s Ox, the tavern owner.” The youth pointed to the dead man.
“Got his just reward, he did.” A disgruntled man shouted from near the entrance. Others murmured agreement and disparaged the evil deeds of the dead person even as they crossed themselves.
Evangeline suspected by their actions, they were hoping to cancel any retribution from his accursed, departing spirit.
“I ain’t sure who the dead woman is. It ain’t his wife.” The young man turned toward the crowd. “Anyone know this chicken-legged wench?”
“Nope. Not old Ox’s pretty little wife.” A white-haired man with one tooth grinned then wiped his mouth. Chuckles erupted through the crowd.
“This ol’ crow and a couple of youngun’s been livin’ at widow Kutley’s cabin helpin’ her slop the hogs.” A humped back old woman, bent over with age in a perpetual inspection of the ground, pointed a gnarled finger a
t the corpse.
“And helpin’ herself to anythin’ what’s not nailed down.” Another voice yelled from the back of the room. Others chimed in with accusations against the woman.
“But what happened to these two?” Henry raised his hand to restore order.
“The king’s guards had just left the inn headed toward the castle, when a man with an eye patch rode up.” The young man who’d first offered his help stood straighter as all eyes turned to him. “He looked angry and mean.” He tried to demonstrate with snarled lips and clenched fists.
“Maybe he be the Fox.” Others chimed in with speculation and questions.
“I be thinkin’ the same.” He raised his hand for silence as he’d seen Henry do. “I was outside ready to leave, but the way he stomped into the door made me turn around and go back inside. I figured iffen it was the Fox then there was goin’ to be some excitement.” After more murmurs settled down he continued. “I sat right over there and saw it all.” Everyone turned to look at an overturned table in the corner. His voice grew more confident. “The man yelled, ‘I want to talk to the innkeeper.’ Old Ox wasn’t happy with the man’s tone and told ’em so. The stranger shoved old Ox down onto a chair. He drew a knife and poked it against Ox’s chest.” Gasps of the crowd made the youth smile.
“Aye, I saw that, too.” An ancient seaman with a peg leg leaned on his crutch and pushed through the crowd. His stench was bad and the crowd retreated a few steps and let him pass.
Evangeline got a whiff and grimaced. She knew the man from his many ailments which had brought him to the abbey often to be treated. He did odd jobs from grave digging to skinning and tanning hides, which accounted for the smell of death that clung to him.
“The stranger demanded Ox give ’em all his money.” The crowd mumbled in excitement and pressed in again lest they miss something. “Ox jumped up and bellowed like a crazed bull ready to charge. His face turned redder than that there blood on the floor.” Clyde paused for emphasis. “Then Ox grabs his chest and keeled over where you sees him now.”
The Secret Life of Lady Evangeline Page 13
