Glancing sharply at Elena, Elizabeth said, "He killed my brothers, Elena. Furthermore, I will not enter into an incestuous marriage with my uncle."
"But Your Highness--"
"Elena, please be quiet and just ride. I swear no harm will come to you. You may even return to Richard's party once I am safely away."
Elena would have argued more, but the look in Elizabeth's eyes made her close her mouth.
***
Back at the battle, Gareth whirled his horse to follow the two stray women. Suddenly, three more well-armed men tried to pull him from his horse, one grasping his sword arm at the wrist, another trying to grab Isrid's reins, while the third picked a sword from a fallen comrade's grasp and approached Gareth from the opposite side. Isrid effectively dislodged the man trying to pull at his reins. When his head was free, the horse bit into the man's shoulder, sending blood pouring down his arm.
Meanwhile, a battle rage Gareth had never before felt seemed to seep into his eyes along with the sweat and blood from a cut on his brow. Possessed of strength he didn't think he had left, he pulled his sword arm free at the same time he swung Isrid around to confront the armed man. His opponent was momentarily frozen with surprise at the unexpected move but Gareth didn't pause as he brought his sword around to stab at his opponent. In a disconnected part of his brain, Gareth marveled at the feel of his sword in his hand--it felt as light as a feather, as supple as a whip. Wheeling Isrid around again, he did not even feel the blade that sliced along his leg, but instead used the injured limb to kick the blade's wielder in the face. Gareth's final opponent stood immobile, staring past Gareth's shoulder and Gareth thought he was going to have an easy kill when he heard a whirring sound and turned in time to see a large stone leave a leather sling. As if in a dream, Gareth saw the missile coming toward him, but--as in a dream--he felt he was moving through water. Suddenly, time sped up as the rock raced towards his face and cracked him soundly on the side of the head. All he saw after that was the hard-packed dirt of the road as it rushed up to meet him.
***
The last rays of sunlight were fading from the sky when Gareth slowly regained consciousness. When he was able to pry his eyes open, he saw the fuzzy features of Cynan and Bryant. Slowly sitting up, he rubbed the lump under the blood-clotted hair on the side of his head. He was still in the middle of the road and his mouth was coated with dust. Spitting vociferously he pushed himself to his feet, grabbing onto Bryant when he wobbled.
"Where's--" he spat another mouthful of dirt and his voice sounded like a bullfrog's to his own ears. "Where's Isrid."
"Somewhere in these accursed woods," said Cynan. "He stayed near you after you fell off in the fray--"
"I did not fall off!" he said too loudly. His head threatened to split like a frostbitten cabbage.
"--and only bolted when some bastard tried to mount him."
"I did not fall off. And if you had taken a blow like that one, you'd not be troubling me so."
Before Cynan could respond, they heard someone approaching through the forest. Trying to see in the rapidly fading light, the three men drew their swords.
"Thank God!" said Bryant when Gareth's horse stuck his nose out of the thick clump of trees.
Gareth stumbled over to Isrid and leaned heavily on his horse's neck. "Where is everyone else?"
"You mean those who lived? They are no doubt at Haddon Hall by now. Of course, a few men were not as lucky as you and they will not be rising from this God-forsaken road," said Cynan.
Gareth tried to scan the scene of the fight, but the moon had not risen and it was so dark he could barely discern the outlines of his friends much less the carnage in the road. "And the attackers?"
"They went up the road," Bryant said, gesturing in the direction Richard's troops had come from.
"We'd best be joining the living in Haddon Hall, then," Gareth said, still feeling as if he were about to lose his balance at any moment.
Neither Cynan or Bryant spoke for a moment. "We are not continuing with Richard's court," said Cynan.
"What? Why not?"
"We are returning to Wales," said Bryant. "We want you to come with us. We--"
Cynan interrupted, "Those men who attacked were Woodvilles."
"How do you know?"
"Because we were hiding in the woods, if you'll remember. We heard them talking after Richard got away."
"Meant they to kill the king?" Gareth asked incredulously. He had not thought Richard's sister-in-law, mother to Lady Elizabeth and the missing princes, would have dared try regicide.
"No," Bryant said before Cynan could speak. "They only sought to win Lady Elizabeth free. I would wager one of the women who fled north on this road was Elizabeth herself."
"But why? She was in no danger."
"Only in danger of being wed to Richard," Cynan said.
"That is ridiculous!" Gareth broke out. "That would be incestuous!" Although it was pitch black, in the silence following his cry, Gareth could easily picture each man's expression. Cynan's eyebrows were no doubt raised mockingly, arms crossed over his chest as he stared unblinking in Gareth's general direction. Bryant was most likely biting his lower lip and staring at his toe scuffing the ground. He hated when Cynan and Gareth argued, even though nothing had ever come between their friendship.
Gareth finally broke the silence. "King Richard would not do such a thing." But even to his own ears he did not sound very convinced.
"Did that bump on your head loosen you of all sense or does your 'knightly duty' prevent you from doing what is right?"
Before Gareth could respond to Cynan's taunt, Bryant said, "At least come back to Wales and see your father. He's been awfully lonely since you left."
Gareth took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. No doubt the crack in his head had allowed what common sense he had to leak onto the parched dirt of the road. "All right. I will go with you." He started to add that he wouldn't hear anymore arguments or accusations against Richard, but something stopped him. He was suddenly curious as to what his father would say about Henry Tudor.
Cynan and Bryant broke into relieved laughter. "What an adventure we shall have!" Cynan yelled as he picked his friend up in a bear hug which made Gareth's sore head pound.
"Put me down you oaf, or you will be carrying me over the Cambrian Mountains yourself!" When he had both feet on the ground he asked, "So where do we camp, oh fearless rebel?"
"'Tis too dark to travel far. Think you it will be safe if we just move into the forest?"
Gareth chewed his upper lip. "'Tis the best we can do, at least until the moon rises."
The three men made their way into the dense forest. By the time they reached a small clearing, the moon had risen, illuminating the landscape. Gareth allowed his friends to administer rudimentary medical care to his injured head and leg, gritting his teeth as their clumsy fingers cleaned and bandaged his wounds. Afterwards, they set about setting up a makeshift camp. They spread out their bedrolls and were about eat a meager supper of dried beef when they heard a woman's piercing scream. Grabbing up their weapons, they dashed back to the road. Bursting out of the thick copse of trees they stared in amazement. They had expected to find a woman beset by highway bandits or wolves. What they saw was a woman sitting on her horse in the middle of the empty road. Well, not quite empty, Gareth thought. Now that the moon was up, he could clearly see the ten or twelve dead bodies that were the result of the earlier melee.
"My lady, what ails you?" Gareth called as he approached her.
The woman turned, startled by the approach of three unknown men. She was about to scream again when Gareth held up his hand. "Fear not, my lady. I am Sir Gareth of King Richard's contingent. You are quite safe from harm."
"Where is the king? I am part of his retinue," she said in what Gareth thought was, despite its quaver, a surprisingly haughty tone of voice.
"We suspect he is in Haddon Hall, my lady."
"Then you must take me to him."
Gareth looked at Cynan and Bryant before turning back to the lady. "I am afraid that is not possible my lady. But we will get you to safety come first light. For now, we are encamped not far from here."
Approaching her horse, he offered her a hand down. She ignored it and asked, "Why can you not escort me to the king now?"
"Because it is too dark to travel and the roads are dangerous this time of night," Gareth said.
The woman considered his reply before allowing him to help her down. She was no doubt bone weary and frightened.
As Gareth lifted her down, he tried to determine if he knew her, but her veil covered most of her face. She hadn't indicated she knew him when he introduced himself, so he could only speculate at which lady-in-waiting the three of them would play nursemaid to until they were able to leave her at an abbey, or perhaps one of the border lord's keeps.
"How came you to be back here, my lady? Did you not escape with the other women?"
The woman hesitated and Gareth wondered if she, too, had been hit on the head. Finally she answered, “I was with the others, but my horse bolted and I became separated from the group." For some reason Gareth had the impression she was not telling the truth, but shrugged. What espionage could one lady-in-waiting engage in?
When they reached the clearing where the men had spread out their blankets, Elena said, "Where is the camp? Where are the others?"
"Others, my lady?" Bryant asked politely.
"Where are the tents? Where are the other ladies?"
"My lady, they are all with King Richard, as Sir Gareth told you."
Seemingly recovered from her earlier shock, she sputtered in fury. “After all I have been through today, you expect me to make do with no inn? No camp? Where, precisely, am I supposed to sleep?"
Bryant hurried over to his bedroll and picked it up. "You may gladly take my blanket, my lady."
"A blanket? Have you no cots, no tents? This is ridiculous! I cannot be expected to sleep rolled up in a blanket with three servants. I am Lady Elena de Vignon!" Gareth's head snapped up and he grimaced at the pain the sudden movement caused his tender skull. "I am part of the king's court. I cannot--"
"You are more than welcome to climb back on your horse and continue down the road if you do not like our accommodations," Gareth snapped. "But should you choose to stay, pray remember that we are not servants and will not be treated as such."
In the bleaching moonlight, Elena stared in mute outrage at him. Before she could respond, the three men silently stretched out on the ground. Elena slowly wrapped the rough blanket around her shoulders and carefully sat down.
"If you have any measure of sense, you'll unsaddle your horse before you sleep."
"Gareth, she's a gentle lady; they're not trained as a stable hand," Cynan argued.
"Then she shouldn't be riding."
"You are the rudest man I have ever had the displeasure to meet," said Elena as she sat up abruptly.
"Just ignore him my lady, I'll see to your horse for you," volunteered Bryant.
With a sigh of relief, Elena laid back down.
"You will at least have the courtesy to thank Bryant for tending your horse, lest I be provoked to call you the rudest woman I have ever had the displeasure to meet," said Gareth.
Though the moon’s light washed her face of color, Gareth could read her indignant thoughts easily for her outrage was laughably evident. She could not believe his gall, would tell the king of his arrogance as soon as she reached him. And yet, she realized—for Gareth saw the dawning realization lift her brows in surprise--she must first reach Richard and he and his friends were her only way there. "My thanks, Bryant, for both your blanket and your assistance," Elena said sweetly before cursing Bryant's companion under her breath.
"Know you this lady that you are so unchivalrous, Sir Knight?" Cynan asked quietly as he and Gareth settled down to sleep.
"Aye. She's a conceited lady of Richard's court who has no manners to those without a title."
"Do I know her?"
"I've no doubt you'll recognize her come morn," Gareth said and then turned his back on Cynan and went to sleep.
***
"You're right, Gareth, I do remember this beauty," said Cynan as he peeked at the still-sleeping Elena the next morning. "But I do not remember having any occasion to know whether she's conceited or not."
"Trust me, she is." Gareth flushed as he remembered her saying, "Do not think to woo me with proud stories of your herd back home." He rubbed his sword arm with his left hand. It was stiff and sore from its exertions of the day before and Gareth was reminded of his first month of training with a sword. Then, as now, he had scarce been able to lift his sword arm above his head, but that ache was nothing to the throb in his head and the soreness of his leg.
The men washed down their breakfast of dried meat with wine and rolled up their blankets, but still Elena slept. As Gareth and Cynan saddled the horses, Bryant walked over to Elena. "My lady?" he called softly. "My lady, 'tis morn and we must be going." Elena did not respond.
Gareth finished saddling Isrid and walked over to Bryant. Nudging Elena with the toe of his boot he said loudly, "If you mean to sleep all day, kindly return Bryant's blanket so we may continue our journey.”
Elena opened her eyes at the harsh voice. Her evident confusion gave her face a softly innocent look before she realized where she was and the haughty mask slipped back over her features. When she remained on the ground, Gareth said sharply, "Are you coming or not?"
With an exasperated sigh, Elena stood, her obviously stiff and cramped muscles slowing the effort. Bryant smiled shyly at her and bent to retrieve the blanket.
"Shall I help you onto your horse, my lady?" Cynan asked, trying hard to keep from laughing at Gareth. Never had he seen his friend treat a woman so. And never before had he met a woman quite as imperious as Elena.
"Not before breakfast, I think."
"You slept through breakfast," Gareth said. "Now get on your horse."
"How dare you address me in such a manner!"
Gareth ignored her as he climbed onto Isrid. Cynan helped Elena mount and then handed her some dried meat. "I'm afraid you will have to eat while we ride, my lady." Turning to Bryant he said, "You go ahead and ride the first leg. I'm so glad to be going home, I'll probably fly instead of walk."
Bryant laughed as he climbed up behind Gareth. "You will be flying until your feet hurt. Then you'll be hollering for me to give you your rightful seat."
"Where's that?"
"On the horse's ass, no doubt," Gareth broke in and the three men laughed good-naturedly.
Chapter 5
Elena stared at the men, appalled that they would use such vulgar language in front of her. She shifted her gaze to the hard brown thing in her hand. Was she supposed to eat this? She took a tentative bite, or rather, she tried to take a bite, but could not tear off so much as a morsel. Glancing up to make sure none of the men were looking in her direction, she tried again, pulling on the meat with both hands. She succeeded in tearing off a large chunk, which she proceeded to chew, or rather tried to chew. What am I to do now? she thought. This was like trying to gnaw on boot leather. Elena was wondering if she could discreetly spit out the meat when Bryant leaned over and held out a wineskin.
"If you take a swallow and let it sit in your mouth a bit, 'twill be easier to chew, my lady."
Elena took the skin and poured some wine in her mouth. As she sat there with her large mouthful, trying to ignore the wretched taste, she saw the amused look in the grey eyes of the man in front of Bryant. Tears of anger and humiliation pricked behind her eyes and she pointedly turned her head away from his mocking look. The insolent knave! Elena finally managed to chew the now-soft beef and took another swallow of wine.
They rode through the forest over what looked like no road or trail Elena had ever seen. She couldn't understand why they weren't traveling on the main road. Surely that would have been the fastest route to Haddon Hall.
> "Is this not prettier to look at than some old dusty road?" was Cynan's response when Elena questioned him.
Elena glanced around the heavily wooded surroundings. The trees were lush and green, and pink flowering vines crept up many of the trunks. The sun scarcely made it's way through the thick leaves, and instead cast a soft green light over them as well as the forest floor. Beneath the horses' feet, the ground was soft with moss and years of accumulated mulch. Elena shrugged. "I would prefer to be back with King Richard's party than enjoy the scenery. Why can we not travel the road?"
The three men exchanged glances. Finally, Bryant spoke up. "My lady, we fear for your safety. The villains who attacked us yesterday may still be around. We would not jeopardize your safety."
Elena opened her mouth to tell them that the Woodvilles were by now long gone. She snapped it shut again when she realized she would be revealing more than she had claimed to know. As they rode, she tried to decide what, exactly, she would tell the king. If she told him of Elizabeth’s escape, he may thank her for the information. If he realized that Elena was aware of why the princess escaped, he may very well want to silence Elena, for were he to marry his niece, the public outcry would be immense. She could offer her silence in return for the groom of her choice. Elena smiled at the thought and did not notice the tree branch just ahead.
“Ooof!” she said as the hanging leaves whacked her in the face. She sputtered angrily and glared over her shoulder at the offending tree. A sudden thought replaced her annoyance with fear.
King Richard was not a man to endure her threat with good grace. Oh yes, he would silence her, but not by paying her price. Though she knew the king favored her, she also knew that the position of lady-in-waiting carried no weight in matters of state. It was entirely possible that the king would use other, more permanent means to silence her. The image of Richard’s two young nephews—long since silenced--floated before her eyes, causing her to smack into yet another branch.
“God’s nightgown!” she cursed.
A Dishonorable Knight Page 4