Still standing over near the edge of the tent, Ghislaine watched the activity and she was, in truth, grateful to have been forgotten. This entire incident had been a nightmare, one of frustration and fear. She didn’t even feel much relief that the Normans would soon be doing as she had hoped by rescuing their comrade and, hopefully, killing Alary in the process. Whatever hope she did feel in that action had taken a blow when she’d heard de Wolfe mention that the Duke of Normandy had wanted Harold’s body thrown into the sea. She was even more surprised to hear that her sister, Edith, had evidently already been to view her husband’s body but had left without it.
So much had happened to a family so devastated.
But, perhaps, the worst was yet to come. At this point, nothing was certain. Exhausted, shaken, Ghislaine sank down to her buttocks on the cold ground as de Wolfe went about dressing. But she wasn’t watching the big knight. She was looking at Harold’s exposed face, seeing the damage by the arrow, heartsick over the loss of her sister’s husband. He had been a good man for the most part and very kind to her. Not only was her family devastated, but the country as well. There was a new king, a duke from across the sea. And already, Ghislaine was in league with his men to have her brother killed.
Was it survival?
Was it treason?
Either way, she’d made a deal with the devil. She hoped the price wasn’t too high, whatever that was to be.
CHAPTER FIVE
War Dog
“Where is your little protector?” Alary asked in Kristoph’s language. “She has been so determined to shield you from the rest of us that surely she would not leave your side. Where has she gone, Norman?”
It was daybreak on the day after the battle to end all battles and Kristoph wasn’t in the mood for this line of questioning. On top of the initial injuries he’d had from being knocked off his horse, now he had the pleasure of damaged organs from the kicking he’d taken, a swollen face, probably a broken nose, and loose teeth. There was coagulated blood all in his mouth and down his throat, making swallowing difficult. His head was killing him and he couldn’t see out of one eye because the swelling was so bad. Therefore, the questions being posted to him were not welcome.
“I would not know,” he said through his swollen lips. “I have not exactly been alert as of late.”
Alary was crouched beside the fallen knight. He could see how badly the man was injured but he had no sympathy. He grunted.
“None of my men have seen her, either,” he said. “What did she say to you when she left you? My men said she whispered something to you before she disappeared.”
Kristoph lay there with his eyes closed for a moment before, slowly, opening his eyes as Alary’s question registered. “The last I spoke with her was last night sometime,” he said. “At least, that is the last I recall.”
Alary didn’t doubt the man. The knight had been beaten into unconsciousness last evening and was only now, at daybreak, becoming lucid again. Still, he was hoping to find a clue as to his sister’s whereabouts.
“No one can find her,” he said. “But knowing my sister, she is probably lingering around the edges of the Norman encampment, picking off Normans with her bow. She is quite good with it.”
Kristoph’s eyes remained open for a moment longer before closing; it was too exhausting to keep them open. “It seems to me that she is a seasoned fighter.”
Alary thought on his strong-willed obnoxious youngest sister. “She does as she wishes and no one has stopped her,” he said frankly. “I have two sisters, one of whom is the widow of Harold. Did you know that? The king you killed was my sister’s husband.”
Kristoph didn’t know that and he surely didn’t care. “Many husbands are killed in battle,” he muttered. “It is the way of things.”
Alary’s eyes narrowed. “It is the way of Norman conquest,” he said. “These are not your lands. You should not have come here.”
“Your sister said much the same thing.”
“For once, she was correct.”
“Much as you have followed your king, I too was simply following orders.”
Alary snorted. “I follow no orders.”
“Then why are you here?”
Alary cocked his head. “An excellent question. I suppose the answer is because I deserved something from all of this. Edwin, my brother, is not here, nor is Morcar, my other brother. They did not come south with Harold, but I did. I wanted something for that loyalty.”
“Like what?”
“The Earldom of Wessex, mayhap. I would even take Sussex.”
“But you were not given anything for your show of loyalty?”
Alary sighed heavily, shaking his head. “You and your Normans killed Harold before that could come about.”
“Were it in my power, I would give you what you wanted. I can give you lands in Brittany if you release me. I will give them to you without hesitation.”
Alary looked at him. “Rich lands?”
“Very.”
“Are you titled, then?”
“My father is,” Kristoph said, hearing a sprout of interest in Alary’s voice. “He is the Count of Rennes. He would give you much for my return.”
Alary considered that, but only for a moment. “I do not wish to live in France,” he said. “I was born in England. This is where I will stay.”
Kristoph’s heart sunk. “Then what do you want to release me?”
Alary leaned over him, getting a good look at that swollen face. “You do not seem to understand that I do not want anything at the moment. I am far more interested in your value to me as a Norman.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that through you, I shall know what the Duke of Normandy has planned and I shall use that to my advantage. Where Harold could not defeat your army, mayhap I shall.”
Kristoph was feeling sick, disillusioned. He was also quite hungry and thirsty. “If you give me something to drink, I shall tell you what I know, but I warn you that it will not be very much. I am not privy to Normandy’s plans.”
Something in Alary’s expression suggested he didn’t believe the man one bit. “I would suggest you reconsider that statement,” he said. Then, he glanced up at the sky, which was beginning to lighten as the sun began to rise. “A new day is upon us, kriegshund. It is time to return to my home in the north. We shall become good friends, you and I. And you will tell me all you know.”
Kristoph didn’t say anything more after that. He could hear Alary moving around, calling out to his men and telling them to gather their possessions and horses in preparation for returning home. It was exactly what Kristoph didn’t want to hear. He knew the Normans were only a few miles to the west and if Alary took him away, then the gap would grow and no one would ever find him. They would have no idea where he had gone.
As he lay there listening to the Saxon soldiers gather, visions of his wife filled his head as Gaetan told her that she had become a widow. He thought of his daughter, who would be without a father. There was nothing more he wanted out of life than to return home to his wife and child. Panic set in. He couldn’t leave; he wouldn’t leave. He had to get back to Gaetan.
He wanted to go home.
As wounded as he was, he still managed to roll onto his belly and push himself up onto his hands and knees. Then he tried to stand, but his body was so battered that it made it very difficult. But he ignored the pain, the swimming head; all he could think of was running all the way back to the Norman encampment. He simply had to get there. But just as he lurched to his feet, someone hit him across the back of the head again and he went down like a stone.
Before he blacked out completely, he thought he saw Alary standing over him, laughing.
He was in the grip of the Devil.
Merciful darkness enveloped him.
CHAPTER SIX
A Man Lost
They’d taken the horses as far as they could go before leaving them in a thick copse of trees about a quarter of
a mile from the Saxon encampment.
But they didn’t move on from there, at least not immediately. Gaetan and his men, dressed in clothing that blended with their surroundings – faded greens, browns, natural colors – and certainly none of the brightly colored heraldry that the Normans tended to favor – took pieces of the bushes and trees around them and shoved them into their clothing so that they blended in with their surroundings even more. It was a stealth operation and given that they were going in daylight, they wanted to take every precaution not to be seen.
In truth, it was impressive to watch. Ghislaine had seen her own people do such things, especially when hunting, and this was hunting in a sense. They were hunting for their comrade, and for Alary, and they were trying to make themselves as inconspicuous as possible. But it wasn’t simply the manner in which they were dressing – it was also their attitude in general. There was a professionalism that Ghislaine had never seen before. They worked as a unit and acted like a unit, each man looking out for the man next to him as well as himself. She knew virtually nothing about these men but she could see how much they cared for one another. They were quiet, efficient, and swift.
Impressive, indeed.
Ghislaine was already dressed in a manner that made her blend with the land and trees – she was wearing a long tunic made from wool that had been dyed with onion, making it a dull shade of brown. She crouched in the bramble that smelled heavily of earth and compost, away from the men who were preparing to stalk the Anglo-Saxon encampment, alternately watching the camp in the distance and the men around her.
If they felt any trepidation, they didn’t show it, which kept her from showing any as well. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing that she was genuinely frightened to have returned to her own encampment.
Alary was here, somewhere, and she wasn’t looking forward to seeing the man.
But she was also alternately watching de Wolfe in the midst of all of this or, at least, trying to pretend like she wasn’t. Even if she hadn’t known he was the man in command, simply from the way he dealt with his men and the way they reacted to him would have told her that he was. He wasn’t heavy-handed. In fact, she’d not heard him raise his voice or give any real measure of direction, but a word here or there and his men knew exactly what was expected of them. She’d heard of men commanding simply by their sheer presence but she’d never seen it before until now. De Wolfe literally commanded simply by being there. Men obeyed.
But it was more than his overwhelming presence that had her impressed; it was his appearance as well. The more she looked at him, the more she realized that he was unlike any man she had ever seen. The men she knew, for the most part, were pale, with light or dark hair, a few of them muscular, or tall, and, on occasion, she had come across a man she thought was handsome.
But de Wolfe looked like he’d stepped out of some other world. He was a big man, bigger than any man she’d ever seen, with fists the size of her head. He had a square-jawed face that was handsome enough but when he smiled – and she’d only seen it once, just a flash to one of his men – his face changed dramatically. It was enough to make her heart skip a beat.
But those were foolish thoughts, to be sure, and she was frustrated at herself for thinking them. She refused to admit that her Norman enemy had her intrigued. Therefore, she returned her focus to the encampment in the distance, watching men move about, trying to single out anyone she knew, especially Alary. It was mid-morning by now and she knew he would be up and about, prowling, scheming. What worried her the most was what had become of de Lohr. She couldn’t see him from where she sat. It was imperative she locate him.
“Lady Ghislaine.”
Startled by her whispered name, Ghislaine turned to see de Wolfe standing behind her with one of his men alongside. It was the same man who had offered to negotiate for de Lohr, as a man of the church, although she didn’t know his name. She didn’t know any of their names. De Wolfe and the man crouched down a few feet away to be more on her level.
“This is Jathan,” de Wolfe said quietly. “He is my priest. Jathan offered himself up as a prisoner once before and he has done it again, so I have agreed. I believe the best plan of action would be for you to enter the encampment with Jathan as your captive. If your absence has been discovered, you can simply say you were hunting for Norman prisoners on the battlefield. Is that something your men would believe?”
Ghislaine nodded. “I believe so,” she said. “I mentioned that it is possible my absence has not even been noticed, but if it has, it will make it seem as if I am telling the truth when I bring a Norman captive with me.”
De Wolfe lifted an eyebrow in agreement although he didn’t seem to be overly enthusiastic about his priest offering himself up as a prisoner. That much had been obvious earlier in the tent when the same discussion had come up, but clearly, de Wolfe had reconsidered that. He glanced at the priest as he spoke.
“It is hoped that Jathan will be taken to where de Lohr is so he can help Kristoph when the time comes to free him,” he said. “Mayhap, you can tell your brother you have brought him another prisoner. A gift, as it were. Surely he would take him to where his other prisoners are being held.”
Ghislaine looked at the priest. “That is a reasonable certainty,” she said hesitantly. “But Alary will not care that he is a priest. He will treat him like any other prisoner.”
De Wolfe nodded. “That is the hope.”
Ghislaine cast him a long look. “You must be careful what you hope for. You do not know how my brother is.”
De Wolfe cocked his head. “Nay, I do not, but I have been a warrior my entire life and I have seen the wicked souls of men. Jathan knows the risks.”
Ghislaine’s focus settled on the priest, who seemed resolute about the situation. There was no fear in his eyes and Ghislaine was sure the man had no idea what he was getting in to, but she didn’t argue. It was a plan that made sense and now it was time to act, for time was growing short. The longer they waited, the more chance there was of Alary leaving the camp and taking de Wolfe’s knight with him. Rising to her feet, she brushed the dirt and leaves off her leather hose.
“Then I shall take him and discover where my brother is keeping your man,” she said, pulling the leather cap that de Wolfe had yanked off her head, now tucked into the belt at her waist. “I will return as soon as I can.”
De Wolfe and Jathan stood up, too, and de Wolfe’s other men began crowding around now that the first move on the Anglo-Saxon encampment was about to be made. Ghislaine gathered her long hair in one hand and wounded it up sloppily on her head, pulling the cap down over it. Hair stuck out all over the place even as she pulled the ties down around her neck and secured it. Then, she unsheathed a long, sharp dagger that had been tied to her belt and pointed it at Jathan.
“Come with me,” she said to the priest. “And you’d better make it look as if you are afraid of me and my dagger, or this will not go well.”
“Pretend I’m holding a dagger on you, Priest,” Wellesbourne growled from behind de Wolfe. “That should make you scared enough.”
Jathan gave him a rather droll look. “The only thing that scares me about you is your lack of piety, Wellesbourne,” he muttered. “God is going to strike you down one of these days and when he does, I do not wish to be anywhere near you lest we both go up in flames. Shall we depart, my lady?”
Ghislaine could see that the threats bouncing about weren’t serious. Wellesbourne had a hint of a smile on his lips, as did a couple of the other knights, but de Wolfe had no humor on his face. He simply pointed through the bramble.
“Go,” he commanded quietly. When Ghislaine moved forward, he suddenly grabbed her by the arm. “And if you think to betray me and my men by telling your brother that we are gathered in the bramble, know that I will have St. Hèver in the trees with an arrow pointed right at you. He can kill you from quite a distance, so do not make any foolish moves.”
Ghislaine looked at him, a hul
king presence in the shadowed trees, and her irritation rose. “So we are back to threats, are we?” she asked, offended. “The fact that I came to you with information about your knight wasn’t enough. The fact that I have risked my life and continue to risk it for a Norman enemy still means nothing to you. Then, by all means, keep your man trained on me and if you believe I am betraying you, then kill me. But you had better make sure you kill me with the first shot because if you do not, I am fairly good with a bow myself and you will be the first one I will come for.”
With that, she shoved Jathan forward, her dagger at his back, and pushed him right through the trees. When he stumbled, she pushed him again, kicking him right in the arse when he turned around to see why she was beating on him so. Together, they burst through the trees and into the clearing beyond, in full view of the Anglo-Saxon encampment about a quarter of a mile away.
Gaetan and his men watched them head off and St. Hèver moved into position with his crossbow, using a tree trunk to steady himself and his weapon. He was aiming right at the lady and her prisoner as the rest of Gaetan’s men slowly moved up to gain a better view of them through the trees.
“I do believe she threatened you,” Luc de Lara muttered to Gaetan.
He snorted. “Aye, she did,” Gaetan replied. “But no more than I threatened her.”
Luc simply nodded, his gaze tracking the woman and the priest, as they all were. “Do you really believe she will betray us?”
Gaetan lifted his big shoulders, vaguely. “We shall soon know,” he said. “You and Denis flank them as they move. Stay to the trees, however, and stop when it is no longer safe to travel. Keep an eye on the pair for as long as you can.”
Luc nodded, moving through the other knights until he came to Denis. Young and excitable, Denis was more than agreeable to the orders and the two of them suddenly took off into the foliage, pushing through the heavy bramble and trying to remain silent as they moved. Gaetan watched them head off until he lost them in the shadow. Then, he moved up beside Téo and Aramis, standing between them as the men watched the Saxon warrior lady and the priest head towards the enemy encampment.
The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe Page 10