My Noble Knight

by Cynthia Breeding

  It might just help her survive until he found her.

  ◊♦◊

  The sun had just sent its first warming rays filtering through the tops of the trees along the riverbank when Deidre heard the baying of hounds. They were still distant, but she knew they were on her trail.

  Had Gilead set dogs on her? After their incredible night of lovemaking, she hated to think that he would. She had hoped he would believe her note when she said she had coin and could arrange for passage to Armorica from Dun Laoghaire. But would he suspect that Dun Laoghaire was not the direction she was headed? She felt a bit of guilt over that deception and then pushed the thought away, holding close the memories of the many times and different ways that they had made love just hours earlier.

  It was that lovemaking that had cost her time, she knew. She had planned to leave Gilead after the first session and gather her things to be gone well before midnight. But he had felt so comforting and strong, not to mention the imaginative erotic places he took her to, that she was exhausted and had finally fallen asleep in his arms. She had awakened just before dawn.

  The barking was closer now. She would have to take to water to erase her scent. She had stayed on dry ground to make quicker time, but now she stepped into the swiftly flowing current. The water oozed over her boots, soaking her feet immediately with its chill. She grimaced as she sloshed through the shallows, trying to keep her balance against the pull, and not stumble over the many small rocks in the river. She held high the small knapsack that she had packed the previous day with cheese and bread. It might be her only food for days. Her original plan to buy a horse at the nearby village was impossible with the dogs behind her. They’d catch up to her if she stopped now. Ruefully, she wished she’d taken the chance of stealing a horse, but she hadn’t wanted to give Mac Erca any reason to look for her.

  Deidre plodded on, forced to leave the river when it wound seaward. She chose the rockiest ground she could find, climbing boulders, rather than walking around them, to confuse the dogs. She fell twice, bruising her legs on sharp ledges.

  Sometimes the baying was so faint she could hardly hear it. Once, when she tripped over a root from near exhaustion, she stopped for a minute to tear off some bread and a hunk of cheese, but she didn’t dare sit down to eat. Whenever she found a stream, she waded through it, her feet nearly numb with the icy cold of the water, even though it was summer.

  She had blisters on both feet by the time it turned dusk, but she hadn’t heard the dogs in a long time. Either they had lost the trail or their keepers had secured them for the night. She was almost too tired to care. Sleep had been scanty last night and she must have walked at least seven—maybe even eight—leagues today. Her feet felt too heavy to lift off the ground.

  Wearily, Deidre forced herself around another boulder, far too tired to try to climb it, and was delighted to see a small cave of sorts. Actually, it was just a ledge overhang, but the ground beneath it was dry and smooth and would afford enough shelter from wind or rain. She sat down and pulled off her sodden boots and wished she could build a small fire, but the smoke and the light would be a dead giveaway if someone were still trailing her, to say nothing of bandits. She ate a few bites of her small store of food and then curled up beneath the crag, asleep before she’d finished a huge yawn.

  She awoke the next morning to brilliant sunshine and the smell of roasting fowl. For a moment, she was disoriented, thinking she was back at the castle. Then, slowly, she opened her eyes to find a huge bear of a man watching her.

  ◊♦◊

  Her note said she’d headed south toward Dun Laoghaire, but Gilead had ridden only a league or two when he began to have doubts. None of the horses in his grandfather’s stable had been taken, and he’d checked with the smithy in the village as well. No one had seen her and no one had purchased a horse.

  He reined in and shifted in the saddle, surveying the terrain. The land was hilly and studded with large rocks and small boulders. Hard walking unless she’d followed the road. Yet, he should have caught up with her by now, since he was mounted. Gilead hadn’t even seen footprints in the soft dirt. In the distance, he heard the hounds but they were neither coming closer nor fading. If they were on a parallel course, she was somewhere between him and them.

  He nudged his grandfather’s palfrey forward, his eyes scanning the forest that had been cleared a safe arrow shot from the road. Deidre might very well seek the cover of trees, but he doubted she’d venture far in. It was too easy to get lost. Gilead shuddered suddenly, thinking of her moving in circles while the dogs closed in. Yet, the underbrush was too dense to take the horse through. At least, here. He’d have to proceed farther south to where the trees thinned.

  He stopped at the next village to inquire. “Does anyone here have a horse for sale?” he asked the smithy.

  “Aye. I’ve a fine mare.” The man ran an appreciative eye over the bay. “Would ye be looking to trade?”

  Gilead patted the gelding’s neck. “Nae. I just thought someone might have purchased an animal this morn.”

  The smithy shook his head. “A band of gypsies passed through this morn, but they only stopped because one of their horses had slipped a shoe. Seemed to be in a hurry to reach Loaghaire.”

  Gilead felt a glimmer of hope. Could Deidre have met up with them and offered coin to take her south? “Did ye notice if there was a woman with them?”

  The smithy grinned. “There’s always women with them. Comely lasses, too, with their dark eyes and hair—”

  “How about a woman with light hair?” Gilead clarified.

  The man shrugged. “Canna say. One wagon kept its curtains pulled tight, but I heard female voices in there. One sounded angry.”

  Fear stabbed at Gilead. Most of the gypsy bands that roamed the countryside in Eire caused no harm, but there weren’t many blonde, Saxon-looking women here, either. If they thought Deidre might fetch a good price...

  “Thanks,” he said and spun his mount around, setting off at a canter that liberally spewed dust over two men stepping out of a tavern. He hardly noticed. If the gypsies were in a hurry, he had to reach the port of Dun Loaghaire before they put Deidre on a ship bound for Saracen country and the slave trade that bought young women.

  ◊♦◊

  Deidre stared at the huge man sitting on his haunches, calmly turning the spit. His massive hands were like bear’s paws and the wild, shaggy, black hair and bushy beard only enhanced that picture in her mind.

  Where had he come from? Obviously, he had been there long enough to build a small fire and roast the hare that he must have caught. How long had he been watching her? All night? She trembled at the thought. Stupid of her to fall so sound asleep.

  Did he mean to rape her? Somehow, she thought not. He’d have had the opportunity if he’d wanted to. She slowly pushed herself to a sitting position.

  “Are ye hungry?” the man asked, and his voice, in contrast to his fierce appearance, was pleasantly low and steady. Almost mesmerizing.

  “Who...who are you?” Deidre stammered. His midnight eyes seemed to glow as he watched her. For a moment, she felt panic seep in. Had she wandered onto a faerie mound in her exhaustion last night? If legends were to be believed, the Tuatha dé Danaan were said to appear to mortals now and then. Only those people usually weren’t seen again.

  “The name’s Duncan,” the man said and tore off a chunk of meat and handed it to her. “Ye’d best eat, lass.”

  Deidre accepted it tentatively and took a small bite. The hare was succulent and tender. Only then did she realize how ravenous she was. She devoured it nearly without chewing and the man laughed, a definitely human sound, and handed her more.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  He lifted a thick eyebrow. “At the moment? Protecting ye. ’Tis not wise to sleep without a fire to protect ye from the wild beasts.”

  She considered him. Perhaps he lived nearby and would help her. “I’m trying to get to Tara,” she sai
d. “I got separated from my escort...” She hesitated, thinking of how true that had been when Gilead had first found her, so this was just a little lie. If she could buy a horse, she’d be fine, but could she trust this man to know she had coin?

  “Why do ye want to go to Tara?”

  “I...” How much should she tell him? “I...want to make a pilgrimage. To see the shrine of the Lia Fail.”

  “It’s gone, ye know. Some say Fergus Mor took it.”

  Deidre frowned. She hadn’t heard that Fergus may have been the one to steal it. The Stone of Destiny was a powerful relic. If the Scotti actually had it, he would be nearly unbeatable. Was that part of the reason Gilead’s father was so adamant about retaining allies?

  “Still, I’d like to see the place. Could you help me get there?”

  He seemed to think about it. Then he shook his head. “The Mac Erca would be put out if I did that.”

  “The Mac Erca?” Deidre felt a jolt that turned her stomach to lead. Had she been found out? She swallowed the lump in her throat and decided to bluff. Maybe he didn’t know who she was. “Why would the high king mind if a simple woman wanted to pay tribute at the shrine?”

  Duncan arched his brow again. “He wouldna mind a simple woman doing that. But he wants ye back. Deidre.”

  The lead weight thudded to her feet, rooting her to the spot.

  He knew! Her shoulders slumped. “How did you find me? I threw off the hounds yesterday.”

  The man smiled, revealing surprising canine eyeteeth, and jerked his thumb toward a spiny gorse shrub nearby.

  Deidre turned her head and then gasped, scooting back under the protection of the crag in her near panic.

  The wolf raised his massive head from his huge paws, his golden eyes penetrating even as his tongue lolled to the side in a cynical grin.

  “He’ll not hurt ye,” Duncan said and whistled. The wolf slunk forward on its belly and pushed his nose under his master’s hand. Duncan gave him what was left of the meat “... unless I tell him to.”

  Deidre could believe that. Now that she saw them together, and especially after seeing those sharp teeth, the man looked more like a wolf than a bear. She shivered.

  “We’d best be getting back,” he said as he stood. “I think, if it’s the same to ye, I’ll be getting us some horses to ride back. I nigh wore my boots out, tracking ye.” He gave her a grudging look of respect. “I’ll say this for ye. I dinna think ye would last this far. Whatever ye are running from, it must be bad.”

  She looked at him dismally as they started along a deer path that would lead to the road and a village. “I’m running from my death, most likely.”

  Duncan frowned, but was silent as they walked on, the wolf placidly padding by his side.

  ◊♦◊

  By the time Gilead reached Dun Loaghaire the following day, the gelding was nearly blown. He didn’t dare push his stouthearted horse any faster that a walk, yet every fiber in his being was screaming that he would be too late.

  There were only two ships tied to the wharf, one a fishing vessel and the other a small sailing craft. There were no signs of gypsies anywhere. Gilead breathed a sigh of relief as he made his way to the harbor master’s shanty. But the relief was short lived.

  “Aye,” the man said when Gilead asked if any ships had sailed in the last day. “The Ahman left at dawn, loaded with cargo.”

  “Did she take any passengers?” Gilead asked.

  The dock master rubbed the stubble on his face. “Strange thing, that. A gypsy came in and bought two tickets.”

  Gypsies. So they were here. Gilead hesitated and then asked, “Was there a blonde woman with him?”

  The man frowned. “Canna rightly say, lad. They boarded while it was still dark.”

  “Where were they headed?”

  “Constantinople.”

  Gilead’s heart thudded. Right in the middle of a nest of wealthy sultans. He pulled out some coin. “Get one of those two boats at the pier ready to sail.”

  Greed shown on his face, but the harbor master shook his head. “The sail’s mast is cracked, if ye dinna notice. The fishing-boat has been taking on water and needs the hull tarred. It’d not last in the high seas but an hour or two.”

  Gilead bit back a retort. It wasn’t the man’s fault that Deidre might be on board a vessel bound for white slavery. All he could do was ride back and take command of his father’s warship and hope the galley was fast enough to catch up to the bulkier cargo vessel.

  He traded the horse he’d ridden for a young, half broken stallion. The gelding had served him well, but he couldn’t ask the horse to put up with the strain of a fast ride back north. The younger animal would have the stamina for it.

  The horse reared when he mounted, but Gilead swung him around and dug his heels into the flanks, causing the stallion to whinny shrilly and plunge into a full gallop.

  He took only brief periods to rest the horse and continued on through the night, wearily climbing the hill that led to his grandfather’s castle as the sun shot its first brilliant rays of red and orange across the sky.

  Even as early as it was, his grandfather and mother were both up, breaking their fast. Packed trunks stood in the entrance, waiting to be loaded.

  “Ye’ll be needing those to stay here a while longer, Mother,” Gilead said when she’d jumped up to hug him, as Mac Erca glowered at him. “I’m taking the ship to Constantinople.”

  Elen’s eyes widened. “Ye are so set on not marrying Dallis that ye’d run off?”

  Dallis. He hadn’t even thought about her or that his marriage was less than a week away. “Nae. Deidre has been abducted, I think, and may be on a ship that sailed yesterday morning. I must intercept before she...” He couldn’t bring himself to go on.

  “Before I what?”

  Gilead froze, sure that he was hearing things. Slowly, he turned to see Deidre standing in the doorway. He crossed the room in three strides and gathered her into his arms. “Ye’re here! And safe!” He inhaled the light fragrant scent of her hair and clean skin and realized he probably smelled worse than his horse. But for just a moment longer, he wanted to savor the way she clung to him, soft breasts pressed against his chest, arms clasped tightly around his neck. He knew he would still lose her, for the only place she would be really safe from Niall was at the Black Loch, but right now, this felt so good. So right.

  A shadow rose from a far corner of the hall. Duncan whistled to his wolf and left the room, shaking his head.

  ◊♦◊

  “I still don’t understand why ye dinna tell me,” Gilead grumbled as they sat on the stern deck of the pitching ship.

  Deidre grasped the edge of the bench to avoid flying off it as a rogue wave lifted the bow of the galley and sent it crashing deep into a trough, washing the foredeck with green water. Elen had retired below deck as soon as the ship made the turn into open water and a confused sea, but Deidre was determined to stay above deck where she could breathe fresh air and try to keep an eye on the horizon. It made her stomach less queasy.

  “If I had told you, would you have let me go?” She had admitted to Gilead earlier that something about the empty shrine at Tara had pulled her toward it.

  “Not by yerself.”

  Deidre raised an eyebrow. “You would have come with me? Your grandfather would have been furious.”

  He shrugged. “Mayhap. But it would have been too late for him to do anything about it.”

  “And what excuse would you have given when we returned? You’ve vowed to keep my search for the Stone a secret.”

  Gilead scowled. “I’d have thought of something.” He hesitated a moment. “Do ye really think yer Stone is there?”

  “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “When your mother spoke of the Lia Fail, I felt dizzy, just like I did the afternoon you’d had the talk with Mac Erca. There’s something that pulls me. Yet, the closer I got to Tara... I felt nothing.”

  The ship heeled over sharply to starboard as a s
trong gust caught the square sail fully. Deidre slid along the seat, stopped only by Gilead’s hard thigh. He wrapped an arm around her waist, his other leg braced on the deck, holding them in place. He felt so warm and solid in the damp chill of the sea. She snuggled against his chest and felt him take a sharp breath.

  “Once I have ye safely off to Armorica, I’ll come back and see if I can find anything at Tara,” he murmured into her hair.

  Deidre looked up at him, warmth spreading through her as gratitude flooded her. Gilead believed in her cause—that the Stone belonged with the Goddess—and was willing to help, even if she couldn’t be here. And she trusted him. If he found the Stone, he’d make sure she received it. Maybe he’d even bring it himself to Brocéliande.

  “Thank you,” she said and sat up reluctantly as the captain walked by and gave them both a knowing grin. Gilead had bribed the captain to keep the sailors on board once they landed on Scottish shores, without liberty, until he could make sure another boat was available to take her south to Kernow. If there wasn’t one, his father’s galley would turn at once and set back out to sea. Gilead had refused to tell her the story he’d given the captain, but by the man’s lecherous smiling, she could only imagine that he thought Gilead was hying a leman away to a remote spot for personal sport before he got married. It galled her to think she could not set the man straight, but in truth, she almost wished that it were true. She longed to have Gilead make love to her once more before... Resolutely, she pushed from her head the image of the beautiful Dallis enjoying Gilead’s embrace and kisses. She’d go mad if she thought about Gilead doing to Dallis what he’d done with her.

  “Tell me how I’ll find your grandmother.”

  He smiled. “Doona fash. She will find ye. She’ll know ye’re coming.”

  Deidre stared at him. “How? Does she have the Sight?”

  “Some say that. Others...” His voice trailed off.

  “What?” Deidre persisted. “What do others say?”

  “The water faeries I told ye about. Some folks feel they still watch for ships from their homeland to bring their people safely ashore.” He shrugged. “’Tis probably some nonsense my grandmother started herself.”