Rannulf made a movement towards her.
“Careful,” Saewulf warned, jerking the point of his blade.
Rannulf checked.
“How?” Judith repeated. “How did you know?”
“His eyes,” Rannulf said. “Your eyes. When he looked at me across the board, I recognised your eyes staring back. He wears the same worried look you do when you are anxious.”
“You knew me for a wanted man?” Saewulf demanded.
“Aye.”
“Yet you did not betray me.” Saewulf’s voice was heavy with disbelief. “Why? How do I know I can trust you? Give me one good reason not to kill you…”
“Saewulf, no!” Judith found her feet and lurched forwards to hang on her brother’s sword arm.
“If you nudge me, Judith, ’tis like my sword will cut his throat,” Saewulf said.
Judith snatched back her hand as though she’d been stung.
“I followed you,” Rannulf said. “I wanted to find Judith. This outlaw’s life is not for her.”
Unexpectedly Saewulf laughed. “We can agree on that at least. ’Tis a beginning.”
“Judith must come back with me,” Rannulf said firmly. “I never meant to let her go.”
“You’re in no position to dictate terms,” Saewulf said, shifting his sword slightly to emphasise his point.
“Do I have no say in this?” Judith snapped. “Why should I go back with you?”
Rannulf smiled at Saewulf and lifted a hand. “You’re not going to kill me,” he said, and slowly he pushed Saewulf’s sword aside. “You’re not a man to kill in cold blood.”
To Judith’s astonishment, her brother lowered his sword. “I do not wish to harm you,” Saewulf announced. “Anyone who wants her, and is mad enough to try to take her, can do so with my blessing.” He walked a little way off and leaned against the tree that Rannulf had used to conceal himself from them, sheathing his sword.
“Saewulf!” Judith gasped, brain awhirl. “What about—”
Rannulf caught at her wrist. His hand seemed to burn her skin. “Judith, I would have come after you, but my brother was out hunting and stumbled across us. I thought it best not to follow you with him at my heels.”
“You knew, then, about all this?” Judith’s gesture took in the wood, and her brothers’ camp.
“Let’s say I guessed,” he admitted. “And now I’ve proved myself by not bringing Beaufour and my brother down on you, will you come with me?”
“Why?”
The long fingers tightened. He pulled her towards him “Do you need to ask?” he whispered, and his other arm slid around her waist.
It had seemed so long. His face was very close. The Chase was suddenly a million leagues away. Saewulf might as well have been in another land.
“Saewulf is willing to trust me.” Rannulf’s voice was husky. “Have you as generous a heart as your brother?”
The heart in question thumped. Judith cleared her throat. “You were a fool to come here!” she said, unsteadily.
“Maybe,” Rannulf conceded, and smiled his crooked smile. “But am I a trustworthy fool?” He slid his hand up her arm.
Judith was lost. She’d never thought to feel that tingling touch again. She stared at his mouth. It was smiling. She ought not to want his kiss, but she did. He dissolved her will along with her strength. She melted against the lean, familiar strength of Rannulf’s body, and breathed in the welcoming fragrance of rosemary. “Rannulf,” she sighed.
His lips met hers gently, a tender salutation. Judith moaned. His grip on her waist shifted, he pulled her hips full against him. Judith’s breasts felt strange. Strong fingers tangled in her hair, held her head fast while the pressure on her lips increased. Rannulf’s tongue ran lightly over her lips. She gasped and tried to draw back.
“No, love,” she heard him mutter. “There’s no escape now.”
“I am not your love!”
“No?”
She felt the laughter bubble up within her, but for once she did not mind. His mouth, warm and tender, covered hers. Judith’s arms wound about him, she tugged him closer. She felt his tongue flicker lightly over her lips. She gasped, her knees buckled, and she clung all the more. Her mind swam. She was almost overwhelmed with relief. He’d not gone from her life forever. She could feel herself coming to life in his arms. Without him, she was only half alive.
He lifted his head, still holding her close.
“Judith, come back with me.”
Judith tried to force her mind back to understanding words again. “What?” Her senses were bedazzled by his kisses. She saw his jaw harden.
“I could take you by force,” he said.
She frowned. Her wits were clearing slowly. “I thought you agreed force was no answer,” she said.
“I need you, Judith.”
“Why?”
Rannulf ran his hand through his hair. He sighed.
“You think one kiss is enough to make me turn my back on my brothers?” Judith demanded.
Rannulf glanced in Saewulf’s direction. “Judith, I’m not going to ask more than you can give—” he paused and went on stiffly “—and this is no place for declarations.”
Judith sensed something other than embarrassment behind Rannulf’s hesitation. “There’s more, isn’t there?” she demanded. “There’s something else. You still want me to testify against Beaufour, don’t you?”
Rannulf’s face was impenetrable. “Don’t you want the slaving ended?” he parried.
“Of course. But I tell you I cannot testify!”
Saewulf broke in. “Hurry up, for pity’s sake,” he hissed. “Someone’s coming, and I think…aye, ’tis our brother! Get you gone, both of you!”
Chapter Nine
Frozen into immobility for the space of a heartbeat, Judith and Rannulf stared at each other. Rannulf’s lips curved. He swooped on his sword, clapped hard fingers round Judith’s wrist and dived into the bushes, Judith stumbling in his wake.
They were running fast, very fast, and when Judith’s foot caught on a tree-root she hit the wood so hard that her foot went numb. Rannulf steadied her, dropped a kiss on her brow and they were off again. The bushes and briars were alive—vicious hooks sunk into leggings and tunic and flesh. It would seem the brambles were on Eadwold’s side, they wanted them caught. Eadwold’s side? Judith had no time to follow that line of thought. Rannulf had released her hand and was pushing his way through the dense undergrowth. Already it was swallowing him up. Judith put on a spurt of speed and plunged on.
“Rannulf, listen,” she hissed. Rannulf stopped so abruptly she ran into him. He took hold of her above the elbows.
“You chose me,” he said, breathing hard. He bent, and his lips brushed her cheek.
“Wh…what?”
“I let go of your hand…yet still you followed me. You chose to come with me.” There was triumph in his tone.
“I…I…didn’t think. That doesn’t mean—” she blurted.
“Doesn’t it?” he asked softly. “Face it, Judith. You were coming with me of your own volition—”
Rannulf’s head snapped round to stare along the trail they had made, listening.
Judith heard it too. Something large was crashing its way towards them, and whoever it was was so assured he did not deign to muffle his steps. She groaned. “We shouldn’t have stopped. It’s Eadwold.”
“I know,” Rannulf responded. “And we’ve left tracks a blind man could follow. Come on, only a little further.”
“But Rannulf, we can’t possibly make it to the castle. He’s almost on us.”
Rannulf had her hand in that hard grip of his. “I know. We never had a chance of out-running him.”
“Then why wind ourselves to no avail?” Judith panted.
“To see what you’d do, my love, and—”
“I told you, I am not your love!”
“And if I have to meet with that brother of yours, I prefer to do it on territory of my own choosing.
Come, a little farther now.” He pulled insistently at her hand.
Judith bit down the questions that were rising to her tongue and went with him.
The moon slid behind a cloud, plunging them into blackness.
“Just what we need,” Rannulf said. “It will slow him down, he needs some light to see our tracks. We’ll get there now!”
The trees loomed up all around them, solid and black, and menacing, but it was not those dark shapes that Judith feared. It was her brother. Her thoughts were coming thick and fast, one for every desperate banging of her heart. No doubt more roots were lying in wait as for unwary feet.
The moon came out again. They were pelting along a real trackway now, not one of Rannulf’s making. Out of sight ahead of them, a fox was nosing at the base of a tree. Pointed ears twitched, its head came up. Something soft and furry dangled limp and lifeless from its jaw. The fox froze for an instant with its head turned in the direction of those thundering feet, and an ominous wetness dripped down into the leaves. The wind rustled through the high branches; and in a swift, sinuous blur of movement, the fox melted into a thicket.
Rannulf and Judith pounded on. The trees fell back from the path. They were charging through a clearing. Rannulf stopped.
“We’re here,” he said, exultantly.
It was Judith’s turn to wrench on his arm. “No! No, Rannulf! We must go on!”
He shook his head, moved back and drew his sword.
“Rannulf, no!”
“What is it, my love, afraid for your brother?” he taunted.
“You cannot fight him. He’s twice your size—”
“Oh, come now, Judith. Where’s that fighting spirit?”
“Go, Rannulf. Please. While you still have a chance.” She glanced over her shoulder. She could hear him, hear Eadwold thundering towards them…
Rannulf stepped towards her and rubbed his knuckles gently down her cheek. She shut her eyes.
“Judith, I threw away all chances of escaping the moment I followed Saewulf, can’t you see that?” he asked.
Judith fumbled for her knife, her fingers were all thumbs. “Please go, I’ll distract him.”
Rannulf shook his head. He turned to face the entrance to the clearing, feet braced to meet her brother.
Judith had her dagger out. She looked at it. She placed herself in front of Rannulf.
He smiled down at her, and tapped his thighs with the flat of his sword. “Judith, I’m sorry it has to be this way, but—”
Judith lifted her knife to Rannulf’s throat. “Go,” she said, unsteadily.
Rannulf’s smile faded. With his eyes on hers, his free hand came up and covered her wrist.
“You’ll not harm me,” he declared, confidently. And then his fingers turned into iron bars which bore her hand downwards and away from his throat.
His hold was crippling. Judith gritted her teeth against it. And when finally she managed to wrest her wrist free, she had a lowering suspicion he’d let her go. She glared at him, and steeled herself to do the only thing she could do. “I wouldn’t crow too soon, you complacent cockerel!” she cried, and slashed out wildly.
Rannulf yelped and leaped backwards. His left hand was smeared with something dark and shiny. He brought it to his mouth, eyes watchful now.
Feet were pounding up the track. Steel flashed silver through the trees. Eadwold was bearing down on them.
Judith had no time to waste. She closed her eyes and stabbed. “Go! Go!” she shrieked. She opened them again.
Rannulf had not moved. And she could tell by the grin lighting his face that she must have missed him by a mile. She groaned.
“You do much better, my love, when you look,” he said. And then he jerked his sword, a small, effortless movement which tangled somehow with her dagger. Her knife flew harmlessly into the darkness.
Eadwold burst into the clearing, his face lit by the unholy glow which rarely left him now. He was all fiend. Where was Saewulf? Judith’s skin crawled. Her younger brother was not following Eadwold. What had happened to him?
“Unhand my sister, coward!” Eadwold spat, misreading the tableau before him. “Try fighting an armed man instead of maid!”
Rannulf looked straight at Eadwold. “I’d hoped,” he said quietly, “to talk with you.”
“Release my sister!” Eadwold’s voice rose dangerously.
Judith took a pace forwards. “Eadwold, listen to me. He’s not harmed me. He…I…we…That is—”
The bright, fiend’s eyes narrowed, and shifted quickly from Judith’s face to Rannulf’s and back to rest on hers. “So,” Eadwold hissed on an indrawn breath, “Saewulf did not lie. I clouted him for a dumb fool, but it seems that I’m the fool this night. You whore!” Eadwold swung his hand and his open palm cracked across Judith’s face, and sent her stunned and reeling into the damp bracken.
“You’ll regret that, Eadwold Coverdale!”
That was Rannulf’s voice. Judith struggled to all fours and looked up. Her vision was blurred, but she could see the two men facing each other. She shook her head to clear it.
“I think not,” Eadwold said. “My sister is mine to discipline.”
Rannulf gave a short laugh. “And I thought it was we Normans who were meant to be harsh with our women—”
Eadwold’s sword lifted. “You’re Norman?” he gritted.
Rannulf bowed. “Rannulf de Mandeville at your service. And I wanted to speak with you.”
Judith suppressed a groan and climbed unsteadily to her feet.
“De Mandeville!” Eadwold roared, his bushy brows snapping together. “You have the temerity to crawl into my territory from that midden on the hill, and tell me you want to talk! There’s only one language your breed understand…”
Eadwold lunged forwards. Their swords clashed. Both men paused, eyeing each other.
“If I might correct you,” Rannulf said, “this land is held by my brother.”
“Oh, God. Don’t! Please don’t,” Judith begged, but neither of them so much as spared her a glance.
“Quiet, you traitorous bitch,” Eadwold snarled, and lunged for Rannulf’s heart.
Rannulf leaped nimbly to one side. “I’d rather not fight with Judith’s br—”
Eadwold’s sword flashed within an inch of Rannulf’s nose. “Coward!” he shrieked, all hate. “I’ll slit your nose for you!” Steel streaked silver through the darkness. “I’ll show you whose land this really is, Norman parasite!” He made a backhanded pass.
Rannulf’s sword countered the blow.
“I’ll carve your liver out for the dogs!” Eadwold growled, looking more beast than man himself. He pressed forwards, long Saxon hair white in the midnight light. Blow after blow crashed down on Rannulf.
Judith flinched with each one. She could hardly bear to watch. The clearing was full of the sound of the fight, the ringing of steel on steel, the grunting and panting of the two men. Neither of them was gaining the upper hand. Eadwold charged, sword slicing down. Judith put her hand to her mouth, but Rannulf dived under the sweep of Eadwold’s sword, aiming for her brother’s belly. With a dexterity surprising in so massive a man, Eadwold twisted and escaped with a hair’s breadth to spare. They would both be more careful now.
Again and again Eadwold launched his great bulk forwards. He was as huge, as powerful, and as untiring as a bull. Her brother’s face had that mad, fevered look on it. He would be satisfied with nothing less than Rannulf’s death.
Judith looked at Rannulf. His face was hard, but calm, and his mouth was set. Of the two, he appeared more cool and in command of himself, but Eadwold’s strength was legendary. Rannulf danced lightly out of reach of Eadwold’s arm. He was quick on his feet, there was that on his side. He was faster than Eadwold, just. He only needed Eadwold to make one tiny slip—but it would have to be soon, before Eadwold wore him out.
She took her finger from her mouth and looked blankly at it, wondering why it throbbed. She’d almost bitten it through. She r
ubbed it absently, dropped to the ground, and began crawling to where her dagger had fallen. She fished about in the dank bracken, impelled more by instinct than by any clear plan. A tiny pinpoint of light winked out through the waving fronds—it must be her dagger! She scrabbled for it.
Sword still rang on sword. And that was good, for it meant they were both alive. She could see the gleam that was the blade of her dagger. She reached for it. The moon went out, and the pinprick was gone. But Judith’s fingers closed round cold metal. Triumphant, she leapt to her feet. She whipped round, but the blackness had swallowed both men and she could see nothing.
“Rannulf?” Nothing. No response. Only a harsh, laboured gulping for breath. The Chase rocked beneath her feet.
“Eadwold?” Her voice was no more than a squeak. Her knees wobbled.
A sudden scrape of steel set her teeth on edge. There was a surprised gasp which ended in a gurgle, and an icy coldness froze her heart. She couldn’t breathe.
“Hell burn you!” Eadwold choked.
And then there was silence, except for the soft stirring of leaves high above them, and one man breathing.
Judith stumbled forwards. “Rannulf?” she forced the words out. “Are you all right?”
The moon peered down through the dark screen of foliage.
A man stood, with bloodied sword, looking down at a shape which lay between them on the ground. He lifted his head and looked across at her. His hair was dark. Judith found her breath.
“Judith,” Rannulf said, unsteadily.
“Dear God—” she put her hand to her head “—you’ve killed my brother!”
Rannulf stepped over Eadwold’s body and reached for her hand. Her fingers closed convulsively on his. She felt dazed, as though she’d been turned inside out. She wanted to fling herself on his chest, and feel his arms close round her, and hold her tight, so tight that she’d be safe forever.
But instead of taking her in his arms he spoke, “Judith…once started it was a fight to the death, you know that.”
“Aye,” Judith replied, scouring him in the weak light for signs of hurt.
“I’m not the stuff of which martyrs are made.”
“N…no.” He seemed unharmed.
Leaves on the Wind Page 19