“My services are needed elsewhere,” she stated curtly,
pushing past him to enter. Before he could respond, she
had rushed to her chamber and slammed the door. In
moments, she had donned riding clothes from a coffer—
sturdy cotton shirt, leather smock and heavy cotton hose
preceded thick woolen socks and well-worn boots. Last,
she tucked her hair into a chaperon hood and was swiftly
back in the main room to gather medicinal supplies in a
large leather pouch.
To her relief, Blaine was gone. Bag in hand, she ran
to the stable where Ned, also alerted by the bell, had
saddled her gelding and stood patiently holding the beast’s
reins.
The boy looked hopeful. “May I accompany you?”
Reaching out to fondly ruffle his hair, she said gravely,
“I think it best you stay here, Ned, as there is much to be
done. The duke requires nursing, and I leave you that
responsibility.”
He beamed. “I’ll do my best.”
“I know. You always do.” She gave him a quick hug,
then whispered in his ear, “Not a word to anyone of my
destination. ’Tis important this remain a secret. Do you
understand?”
He nodded, as serious as she had become. “Yes,
Alicen.”
Once in her saddle, she saw Blaine leave the two
soldiers he’d been speaking to. He strode up to seize her
horse’s bridle.
“Whence do you ride?”
A shrug conveyed nonchalance she didn’t feel. It
preceded her terse, “To serve where there’s need.”
“I want your destination,” Jeremy commanded and
saw her green eyes flash dark currents of anger.
Brazen it out, Alicen ordered herself. “You’ve no right
to detain me when I must be elsewhere.”
“You’ll be escorted, then.”
Sweet Jesu, no!...Brazen it out. “I’ll not bring warriors
to Sherford’s people,” she snapped. “They’ve known the
wanton ruin soldiers perpetrate as amusement.” Orrick
in particular.
By wheeling Hercules, she jerked the reins from the
knight’s hand, then urged the horse through the gate at
a gallop.
“Come back here,” he shouted, then rounded on the
nearest soldier. “Naismith, follow her no matter where
she goes.”
“Aye, sir!” The young man leaped into his saddle and
thundered out the gate in pursuit of the healer.
Jeremy fisted his hands on his hips. “Impertinent
jade,” he spat. “You’d have been free had you but told
your destination.” Nay, not true. She’d have been escorted
to keep her from mischief. He glared at another soldier.
“How dare she leave with William still abed! Her duty is
here. The boy hasn’t the skill for this.” He stomped inside
to check the duke himself.
***
At midday, Jeremy beheld a sight that made him burn
with bloodlust. Corporal Naismith reined in at the stable.
Alone. Incensed, the captain grabbed the hapless man’s
reins and reached up to yank him from his saddle.
“Where is she?” he snarled, holding Naismith at eye
level by a fist grasping the front of the man’s doublet.
Naismith’s eyes rolled wildly in his head. “I...I lost
her, sir,” he stammered.
Although his voice was low, the fury in Jeremy’s eyes
lanced through his subordinate. “You what?”
“I...lost...her.”
“You were to escort a woman,” Jeremy said tightly,
“yet you failed. Explain.” To keep from tearing Naismith
apart, he clenched his fists.
“She evaded me, Captain,” the wretch muttered.
“I can’t hear you.” Jeremy released the soldier’s tunic.
Naismith hung his head at his superior’s anger. “She
left the road, took a path. I tried to keep sight of her,
but....”
“You mean to say that a slip of a wench outrode one
of my best men?” Jeremy scoffed. “I cannot fathom it.”
“’Tis truth, sir. She rides better than any I’ve seen,
yourself excluded.” He kept his gaze lowered. “I searched
for her the entire morn.”
Jeremy’s grip tightened even further on Naismith’s
tunic. The man was fortunate his clothing and not his
throat was beneath Jeremy’s hands. He forced his voice
to remain level. “You’re aware, are you not, of the
punishment for disobeying an order?”
“Aye, sir.” Naismith’s eyes remained focused on the
ground and his voice a whisper. “Execution, sir.”
“Execution.” Tension easing somewhat, Jeremy
studied his man. “Knowing what your fate would be, why
did you return?”
The young knight swallowed, squared his shoulders,
and at last looked directly into Jeremy’s eyes. “My duty
was to report that Mistress Kent was not under my escort,
sir.”
Pride in his soldier made Jeremy fight to retain a stern
face. Ordering Naismith’s death was out of the question—
the youngster was far too promising, the situation
unusual.
“You understand my position, then,” he stated. “By
leaving Mistress Kent unescorted, you’ve given William’s
enemies the chance to use her as a spy. That lapse must
be punished.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Lieutenant Taft, take this man to the stable and
administer fifteen lashes.” Before Naismith was led away,
Jeremy gave him a look that left no doubt of his captain’s
respect.
But his ire had not yet abated. As he stoically watched
the punishment, simmering rage made him ache with
tension. Alicen Kent should be the one whipped. If her
skills weren’t so badly needed, he’d consider punishing
her for such audacity. At the very least, she’d know her
exact place while William’s troops quartered at Landeyda.
He would not allow her to do as she pleased.
***
Outwitting the captain’s spy raised Alicen’s spirits,
and she handled Orrick easily. She hated deception, but
keeping Orrick safe was paramount. Now, he’d not
venture near for a fortnight, giving her time to devise
another lie to keep him away. There was no predicting
what would happen if he discovered the soldiers. Pray
God he remained ignorant of them.
Leaving his hut, she proceeded to Sherford’s market.
It proved a pleasant day—her first away from Landeyda
in a week. Speaking to Orrick allayed some of the fear
that he would catch her unaware. And she enjoyed
escaping Captain Blaine. His scrutiny of her every action
unnerved her.
But her mood darkened when she dismounted at the
stable and noted the soldiers standing at attention within.
Simultaneously, she saw a man tied to a beam and heard
the sound of a lash striking flesh. What devilment was
here? When she realized the man she’d eluded was being
whipped, fury ignited in her.
She rushed inside, stumbling to a halt in fron
t of
Captain Blaine who stood, feet spread and arms crossed
over his broad chest, observing the punishment. He
motioned Taft to stop the flogging when Alicen rounded
on him.
“How dare you do this,” she cried. “My property isn’t
a torture pillory!”
“You’re to blame here, woman,” Jeremy retorted,
glaring.
She gasped, immediately realizing his logic. Brazen it
out. “I? Whatever did I do?”
He nodded to Naismith. “You evaded your escort this
morn.”
Alicen’s gaze flew to Naismith’s blood-striped back.
The import of her actions stunned her, but she maintained
an air of innocence. “I need no escort. Why provide me
one?”
“As a precaution.”
“Against what?”
Jeremy stood even straighter. “Word of William’s
presence here could prove invaluable to his enemies.”
Astounded at his conclusion, she laughed in disbelief.
“His presence here is still secret.”
“Is it?” Jeremy cocked a dark eyebrow. “And do none
save we here know his true condition?”
“If others know, ’tis not by my word.” That was truth.
“Can that be proven? You’ve been away all
day...alone.” He planted his fists on his narrow hips and
glared at her.
She refused to fear his intimidating stance. “I’m
neutral in this conflict, no matter what you choose to
believe.”
“Neutral? Why flee my man if you had naught to hide?”
Alicen stared as if he’d gone mad, grinding her teeth
to keep from answering his challenge with complete
hostility. “Because I could,” she stated quietly. “Because
I don’t betray a trust. Because I cannot work with a guard
nearby!” Eyes ablaze, she ground out, “Do my answers
satisfy you, Captain?”
He gave her his most accusatory scowl. “Your
whereabouts remain unaccounted for—I’d hardly call
your answers adequate.”
“Yet they must suffice, as they’re all I’ll give.” Then
outrage overcame wisdom, and she hissed, “Or will you
flog me to extract false confession and confirm your errant
distrust?”
“I don’t flog women,” he bit off, ignoring his previous
thoughts on that very subject.
“Not even to gain military advantage?”
Her words brought a collective gasp, then the men
covered their shock as best they could. Except for some
shuffling of feet, the stable was silent.
Jeremy’s face flamed. “Understand me well, Mistress.
Did I order it, you’d be stripped naked and whipped until
you couldn’t stand. Perhaps then you’d not question my
authority.”
Alicen paled but didn’t flinch. You seek quarter I’ll
not give, Captain. She pointed at Naismith. “That is
barbarity.”
Jeremy clenched his jaw until it bulged. “Gall me no
more. My man bleeds for your insolence.”
“A situation I’ll remedy anon.” Alicen started forward,
but Jeremy grabbed her arm.
“You’ll not go near him.”
She shot him a dark look over her shoulder. “He needs
tending.”
“He’ll have none from you.” Hard fingers shackled her
arm. “The men will see to him.”
Twisting to face him in an attempt at loosening his
grip, she cried, “He’s suffering.”
“And as you caused it, you’ll not soothe it.”
“Cold-blooded monster!”
“I am a soldier,” he grated out, shaking her once. “And
discipline is a soldier’s credo. No army functions without
it.”
“Discipline and cruelty are not the same things. This
is cruelty.”
Furious to hear her twist the responsibilities of his
position, Jeremy backed Alicen up against a support post,
pinning her with his hands curled in the shoulders of
her tunic.
Complete silence filled the stable.
Alicen knew instantly her defiance had been a hideous
error. Captain Blaine’s eyes sparked rage, and his
clenched jaw made his neck cords bulge. She felt his
white-knuckled hands shaking and thanked God her flesh
was not caught beneath the fabric he mangled in each
fist. Given his strength and size, he would kill her if he
struck her. She had no doubt the blow was coming and
could do naught to prevent it. Fear made her knees
wobble, and the fight drained from her, just as she knew
the color drained from her face.
A sudden chill hit Jeremy, like the bite of falling into
a Highland lake in spring. A blast of frigid winter wind
that numbed his entire body. Drawing breath grew nigh
impossible as the cold pierced him as if a pair of icy arms
encircled him, squeezing the air from his lungs. As he
struggled to breathe, he saw, before she concealed it, the
stark terror on Alicen’s ashen face. She appeared ready
to faint. Though his hands were stiff and senseless from
cold, he felt her legs beginning to buckle.
Christ’s guts, what have I done? Appalled, he forced
his frozen grip to loosen. He needed to beg forgiveness,
but his tight throat choked off speech. Unnerved by
Alicen’s countenance, he gaped. He had never thought
to instill such terror in a female, even one he could not
bring himself to trust.
“Fish, Graves,” he ordered in a voice on the edge of
cracking, “escort Mistress Kent to her cottage.”
As the two men moved to flank her, Alicen locked her
knees and straightened. Staring straight at Jeremy, voice
unwavering, she stated, “I shall thank God on my knees
each night that I’m not under your command, sir.” Head
high, she pushed his hands away, then forced herself
not to bolt, instead walking slowly out the door.
Jeremy, still chilled, stood unmoving. He had come
within a hairsbreadth of striking Alicen Kent, and his
wretched intent sickened him. It had taken every ounce
of his strength to keep from hurting her. He felt nauseous.
Ruthlessly clasping his hands behind his back to still
their shaking, he throttled his emotions. He would show
no doubt. Duty required he maintain discipline. She had
defied his command...Yet, she was no soldier. And he’d
never menaced a woman, no matter how dark his rage or
how just his warrant. He’d not hurt Estelle when she
refused his bed after his return from France. Nor his
mother or sister-in-law, who took lovers when their
husbands were away fighting for the King.
How then to explain his treatment of the healer?
Losing his vaunted self-control horrified him. He owed
her William’s life! He owed her an apology. Yet in truth,
he’d likely have to break down her door to deliver it, and
he could ill afford another such breach of propriety. Sweet
Jesu, he was weary of strife.
Contemplating his debauchery, he cursed his father’s
warning against women. And the f
emales in his life who
had confirmed the warning. And his office, which dictated
he wield authority, no matter who suffered. She’d
threatened his power. He’d crushed her resistance.
But knowledge that he’d acted within his right brought
him no comfort.
Jeremy’s vicious brother Manfred had struck his wife
for any imagined offense, thinking that an effective means
for governing her. Soon after marrying, his gentle bride
became a wraith, cowering in constant fear when he was
about. Her terror had disgusted Jeremy. Now he’d caused
that same fear in a woman.
All in the line of duty.
Duty without mercy turns men to beasts. What will
you be provoked to do next in the name of duty?
He heard the words whispered in his ear, but no one
stood close enough to have done so. With that, the chill
left him as abruptly as it had come. He stared wildly about,
but only his soldiers occupied the stable. This was the
second time he’d felt a presence he couldn’t see...Bah,
‘twas mere fantasy, naught else.
But how could he explain the voice’s gender? Alicen
was the only woman on the grounds, and she’d not
whispered in his ear.
Rounding on his men, who stood staring at him as if
he’d grown another head, he snapped, “Cut Naismith
down and see to his wounds.” He turned to Taft. “I ride to
Sherford to seek the lay of things. Double the watch, and
don’t let that woman touch Naismith or leave the
premises. If you need me, send a rider to the inn.”
Without another word, Jeremy stalked outside to
where his war horse, Charon, stood tethered. He mounted
and galloped off toward the village.
He urged Charon to a dead run, trying through sheer
speed to outdistance his guilt and frustration. Finally,
when Sherford was within sight, he eased his mount back
to a walk.
“Good lad,” he crooned, patting the stallion’s sleek
neck. “You’ve earned your keep for that ride, my friend.”
Jeremy had barely noted Sherford on his previous
harried visit. Now he observed it closely. Far south of
Scotland, its citizens had little to fear from the fierce
Douglas clan’s raids in Northumberland. Yet Sherford
was isolated, and mercenaries and robbers presented
constant danger.
The town’s plan reflected the need for self-protection.
Comprised of burgage plots—thirty feet wide and four
Carroll, Laurie - War Of Hearts.txt Page 5