The Fire and the Sword (Men of Blood Book 2)

by Rosamund Winchester

  “Let us assume she has been planning this from the beginning. She had to have considered her final destination.”

  Each man nodded in agreement.

  “Where would that be?” Elric asked, aware that no one knew anything more about Minnette than what the Cardinal had told them in his study.

  Silence was his answer, and he wasn’t surprised by that.

  “One man I asked reported that he had seen her run into the woods at the edge of the outer courtyard. There were also several vendors and merchants who mentioned spotting a woman who looked out of place, though she was dressed as a common woman in a brown dress and wimple.”

  Bear hmmmed. “She would look out of place.” Elric narrowed his eyes at Bear. Deep in his gut he knew Bear had no designs on the woman, that he was a man driven by duty and loyalty to his commander. Elric knew his jealousy of Bear was out of place. But knowing did little when instinct ruled. The beast that prowled too close to the surface was eager for battle.

  “How so?” he asked, his tone as taut as the muscles crisscrossing his back.

  Bear eyed him, his expression unreadable. Crossing his arms, he replied, “No matter what disguise she wears, she is a lady. Carries herself as a lady. Anyone with eyes would see that. She would stick out like a length of silk in a heap of burlap sacks.”

  “And she’s a bit o’ dessert fer the eye, eh?” Glenn interjected, mischief in his eyes.

  A growl escaped Elric’s throat before he could regain control. Glenn smiled.

  “Her beauty has little to do with how we will find her before she gets herself captured by enemies or killed.” The thought of Minnette, a captive of the reivers ransacking and pillaging the area around York, made his blood run cold.

  “Perhaps the Cardinal will know of any family—”

  “He would not sell her off to Glidden if she had family to care for her,” Elric interrupted Leon. “Besides that, the last thing I want to do is give Calleaux a reason to turn his ire on the order. He placed his niece in my care. I have already failed his orders by allowing her to slip away, I will not fail you by allowing Calleaux to use this as an excuse to disband the order altogether.”

  Leon gasped and Pierre grunted. “You think he would do such a thing?” Leon, ever the hopeful priest, asked, his eyes wide. Heavens, but Leon could be naïve, even after witnessing, first hand, what Calleaux had done to Tristin and Bell Heather.

  “There is no question Calleaux would use whatever he had at his disposal to rid himself of those he considers his enemies,” Pierre intoned emotionlessly. His expression was a hard as stone, his eyes flat, but there was something beneath the calm surface. Something deep.

  Elric began pacing, the tension in his muscles begging for release.

  “Nay, we cannot go to Calleaux,” he stated, rubbing the back of his neck to ease to ache growing there.

  “What then? We canna all ride in different directions, hopin’ ta stumble upon her,” Glenn remarked needlessly.

  “If I were running from something, I would run in the opposite direction,” Bear offered, and Elric felt a tingling in his gut.

  “Glidden is north, we meant to ride north this morning,” Leon added.

  “Which means we should look for her south,” Elric finished, intent blossoming where anxiety had once been. Drawing his shoulders back, he snapped, “Glenn and Leon, ride north through the Marches toward Edinburgh. Ask about her along the way, lest we are wrong in our assumption of her current direction. If you cannot find her by the time you reach Cherchebi, return here. I doubt she could have gone that far on foot within the day.”

  Glenn groaned but slowly rose to his feet. “Aye, Commander.” Elric ignored the sarcasm dripping from Glenn’s words.

  “Pierre, you remain here. As my second-in-command, I need you to act as the central command. Keep your eyes and ears alert for anyone asking around about her. We cannot afford to have suspicions get back to Calleaux. As it is, we have been able to keep word of her escape amongst ourselves.”

  Pierre stood, his gray eyes glinting. “Aye, Commander.” Elric nodded, aware that though Pierre did little to ingratiate himself with the other men, he would do exactly as ordered. He didn’t come by his place as Elric’s second lightly, and Elric knew he could trust the man to give his life in the line of duty.

  Elric turned his attention to Bear.

  “Bear, you and I will travel south. She cannot have gotten that far on foot.” That’s if she hadn’t persuaded some hapless traveler into taking her wherever she asked to go. She could be miles from him by now.

  Out of reach.

  Gritting his teeth against the rush of frustration, he barked, “Go!”

  With little time to capture her and turn their journey north to Lorne, Elric hurried in his preparations. There wasn’t a moment to lose.

  I cannot fail those who have put their trust in me. I cannot.

  Never again.

  As the chapel bell rang the morning mass, Elric and Bear were galloping south.

  I am coming for you, Kitten.

  Stringer watched the men riding south, his own mount hidden among the trees along the road. He could tell from the colors on their surcoats that they were men he’d been looking for. His target had been among them. They were six on their departure from Cieldon, but he saw only two ride past.

  Should he follow them? He couldn’t explain why, but something told him that his target was no longer among the people in the castle, that she had gone, flown away from the trap he was laying.

  Curiosity and urgency fueled his movements and he mounted Digger, kicking him into action. He would follow those men from a distance, keeping them within sight but far enough away to lose in the terrain if they caught wind of his pursuit. They were headed south. There were several villages in that direction so he couldn’t guess their destination.

  Sticking to the edge of the woods, he followed at a slower pace, using the trees and underbrush to hide as he trailed them. They eventually slowed as they approached a lone cottage beside a patch of tilled mud and a poorly-made fence.

  Pulling Digger to a halt behind a stand of oaks, Stringer dismounted, moving in to hide his broad shoulders behind a tree trunk while he peered around it to spy.

  The men called to an old woman who stopped shelling peas to peer up at them. Stringer couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the man who appeared to be leading the duo, held an edge of command that Stringer recognized.

  A smile played at his mouth, pulling the muscles across his cheek, pinching and making his face ache. Smiles brought pain, but he would endure it.

  As quickly as they approached the dwelling they departed, their heading south and west.

  Instead of mounting Digger, Stringer tied the horse to a branch and pulled his hood up over his head. Rather than follow the two blindly, he’d get some answers from the woman.

  She watched him as he approached, her gaze wary. The smoke rising from the hole in the roof told him that she was preparing a meal, perhaps for her family. She would be on guard, as she should be.

  Stopping a yard and a half from her, he waited for her to speak first, allowing her the opportunity to call for aid if need be. Most people couldn’t face the darkness of his presence, many unwilling to even look in his direction without a crucifix about their necks.

  “Wot ye want?” the crone asked, her face pinching most horridly. “Got ’nuff vistors today.”

  Stringer, his voice ragged from disuse, answered, “I am looking for my companions. Two knights.”

  She raised a bushy eyebrow. “Ye ain’t no knight,” she muttered, her voice dripping with disgust. Toward him.

  He sucked in a breath, his fingers itching to clasp the hilt of his blade and sink it into her chest.

  “Nay, I am no knight,” he agreed, working to keep his voice level. “But I was traveling with them. I stopped at Bridgerdon for supplies and we were separated.”

  He could tell from her glare that she didn’t believe a word h
e said.

  No more games.

  With movements honed from years of practice, he brandished his dagger, planting it in the crone’s thigh, right along a particularly thick vein. She screamed but he clamped a hand over her mouth.

  He bent down, bringing his mouth close to her ear. Stringer whispered, “Tell me what you told those men and this hole is the only one I make in your body.”

  She trembled, her eyes wide and filled with tears of agony.

  God, how he wanted to taste them, the salt of pain, the sweet of terror…a perfect mix on which to get drunk. But he hadn’t the time to savor this.

  Pity.

  He pulled his hand from her mouth but put a little more pressure on the blade, sinking it just a little deeper into the meat of her leg.

  She yelped but, at his glare, she bit back a sob.

  “Speak,” he demanded.

  “The two lords asked ’bout if I seen some woman come through ’ere last night,” she muttered, shock making her words wobble.

  “What did you say?”

  She groaned, her face growing paler. Stringer looked down. His hand was covered in warm, red blood. The crone was quickly losing blood, which meant she would be useless to him soon. He pulled the blade from her thigh and she collapsed forward, shuddering against him. He recoiled at the touch of her against him. He pushed her back on her stool, propping her against the side of her cottage.

  “Tell me,” he prodded and she blinked up at him, her eyes losing focus. “Tell me.”

  Her words slurred, the woman finally answered, “Only saw ’arold come through ’ere late.”

  “Was Harold alone?”

  She slumped, her head hitting the wall behind her.

  “Speak!” he barked, grabbing her throat to pull her head forward. Her eyes were nearly closed.

  She shuddered again, her breathing shallow.

  “Only ’arold, drivin’ ’is old cart.”

  Something snagged at his thoughts. Why did those two knight tear off after a man and his cart? They knew something.

  “Where was Harold headed?”

  Her breath caught and Stringer’s gaze caught on the pool of crimson spreading out at his boots. The woman’s dress was sodden.

  “Outside Heversham…farm there…”

  Stringer didn’t speak again. He knew where the men were headed, which meant he was headed there, too. But first…

  He crouched in front of the woman, his face tipped up to watch as the color completely drained from her face. And her chest stopped moving.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Peering out the window at the new day, Minnette wondered if those gray clouds in the distance would bring rain. Rain would slow her progress and drench the thin layer of clothing she wore, but that was a little discomfort she would gladly endure.

  Having found rest, she felt less harried and more prepared. Her dash through the woods and her ride in the back of a cart had bruised and twisted muscles she hadn’t known she had. But after a night of surprisingly deep sleep on a cot by the hearth, and the meal of stewed rabbit and parsnips, she was feeling better. So much so that, for a moment, she wondered what it would be like to stay in a place with people like this.

  But as quickly as the thought came, it went. She couldn’t remain with Harold and his wife, Ergud. According to Harold, he’d only driven about ten miles the night before, which meant she wasn’t nearly far enough away from Bridgerdon.

  From Sir Elric.

  Non. She had to continue on her way, to Chatteris, to freedom from her uncle and all the expectations that were never her own. She wanted a quiet life, one where she could live as she chose, perhaps on a farm like this one. Perhaps she could raise animals.

  A smile played at her lips as she watched Ergud stomp to the open door, her hands covered in flour from the bread she’d been kneading.

  “Come on, ’arold!” Ergud bellowed, waving at him from the doorway. She had sent Harold into the stable outside their small yet comfortable cottage to retrieve a pair of his old boots. They’d made enough off last year’s harvest for him to purchase a second pair, allowing him to set aside the older pair for if he needed them again. Or for when strange women required them for a journey on foot.

  “’arold’s boots’ll be big on ye, but they will serve ye better than those slippers,” Ergud said as she peered down at Minnette’s feet. “I can put some battin’ in the front ta keep yer feet from slippin’ too much.”

  Relieved at the woman’s forethought, Minnette smiled. “Thank you, for your help and for the boots.”

  Ergud waved off Minnette’s words. “Ye got the coin, we got the boots. And I expect a little extra for the bread I put in yer pack.”

  Goodness, the woman was mercenary. But Minnette appreciated the woman’s need to see she wasn’t taken advantage of.

  Taking the small pouch of coins from her satchel, Minnette retrieved two silver coins, placing them in Ergud’s hands just as Harold stomped through the door. He tossed the boots on the floor by her feet.

  “These’re them,” he said, his face flushed from his walk to and from the stable.

  Unused to boots, Minnette struggled to put them on. Thankfully, though she grunted in annoyance, Ergud helped her pull them on and secure them around her legs. They nearly reached her knees.

  She stood, walking to test the ease of movement. They were certainly thicker and sturdier than her slippers, which meant she could walk over more rugged terrain without the pain of rocks stabbing the soles of her feet.

  Unbidden, a giggle rose up. She pressed a hand to her mouth in surprise.

  Ergud and Harold stared at her; Harold’s eyes twinkling and Ergud’s expression was as pinched as ever. Finally, Ergud’s face relaxed, allowing for a slight smile to curl her lips.

  I knew there was a heart in there somewhere, Minnette mused just as the percussion of hooves sounded.

  Alarm raced through her, her heart pounding out terror as she shot to the door to look out. Two riders appeared at a distance, but that distance was closing fast.

  “Knights,” Harold muttered. “Wot’re they doin’ out this way?”

  Stunned, her mind frenetic, Minnette could only stare as the horsemen got closer.

  “Ye best get out the back window, lass,” Ergud urged, throwing Minnette’s satchel at her and pulling her toward the back of the small cottage. “Ye head toward that ’illock over there, beyond that is a stream. Follow that until ye get to ’Eversham. Chatteris is only a few days’ walk from there.”

  Minnette couldn’t comprehend what the woman was doing. Was she helping her to escape? Blinking away the tears of panic, she caught Ergud’s gaze. There was sharp determination there.

  The window through which she would escape was just big enough for her to squeeze through, and she did, just as she heard Harold call out, “Ho! Wot’s this then?”

  Holding her breath, Minnette crouched beneath the window, listening as the sounds carried through the house and to her ear. She could hear the horses draw to a stop, then the sound of one of the men dismounting.

  Could it be them? Have they found me already?

  “I am looking for a woman.”

  Shock exploded within her, tearing a gasp from her throat.

  It was Sir Elric, his deep, velvety voice both chilling her and lighting a fire deep with her belly.

  “No women ’ere but me wife,” Harold replied.

  He was lying for her, protecting her. He didn’t even know her—and she’d lied to him about who she was. But he’d known the truth, that she was running from someone. And now, he knew who.

  Unwilling to let Harold and Ergud’s bravery be in vain, Minnette sucked in a deep breath, clutched her satchel close to her chest, and broke into a run. The boots on her feet were heavy but she moved her legs as fast as she could. Remaining in the sight line of the house, she knew Elric would only see her if he came around the building, but she knew Harold and Ergud would attempt to keep him busy, at the front of the cottag
e for as long as they could.

  Run. Faster!

  Her chest burning with each breath, she pushed herself harder, faster. The boots rubbed against her heels, making her flinch, but that didn’t matter so much as getting further away. For what felt like miles, she ran, her focus on the hillock Ergud had mentioned. And as she reached it, her legs nearly gave out.

  She stopped, peering over her shoulder. They hadn’t spotted her. Her plan to use the cottage to hide her escape had worked. She gazed up at the hillock before her. It rose up over the top of the cottage. If she climbed it to get to the other side, she’d be leaving herself exposed.

  There is no other way. The hillock was wide, it would probably take too much of her precious time to go around it. Her mind made up, she began the climb, her ears alert for the sounds of coming riders, but her heavy panting breaths drowned out everything else.

  I am nearly there. I am going to make it.

  Just as she reached the top of the rise, she heard it: a roar. Like a beast that had spotted its prey.

  Gasping, she turned to see a single rider on a large, dark horse, galloping toward her. He was bent over, as if urging his horse forward with the strength of his rage.

  It was Elric.

  Minnette let out a cry and turned to race down the other side of the hillock, panic fueling her feet. The pounding of the hooves seemed to vibrate through the ground, hitting her over and over again with their terrible beat.

  Non! I am so close! She couldn’t let him catch her now, not when freedom was within reach.

  Ducking her chin, she pressed on, her descent aided by the angle of the hill. Finally, she reached the bottom where a ribbon of water moved lazily by. It was the stream Ergud had spoken about. But how would a stream help her?

  Desperate, Minnette looked for something, anything behind which she could hide.

  The area beyond the hillock was mostly flat, with a smattering of small cottages in the distance. Too far. She wouldn’t get to them in time.

  Numb, battered, and exhausted, Minnette turned back toward the hillock, her heart thundering in her ears. And then he came, rising over the landscape like a dark angel, hell-bent on capturing one more innocent soul.