by Lisa Hendrix
“Where are the others?”
Edric shook his head thickly, but Wat called, “Here, sir.”
The two men who should have been guarding the main gate lay sprawled against the posts like drunkards. Uneasiness rapidly replacing his anger, Ari left Wat to wake them and dashed for the hall.
He shoved the door open to find every man in a similar stupor, even Oswald. Ari yanked him up and shouted into his face. “Wake yourself, Marshal. What goes on here? The wall is unguarded and every man asleep.”
Oswald scrubbed his eyes with his hands and struggled to comprehend as Wat came in and starting waking the others. “I … I do not know, messire. All was well.” He thought hard, clearly confounded. “Lord Ivo came as usual, but not Sir Brand. We played chess, I went to bed, and the next thing, you were shaking me.”
“Where are the women?”
“Uh …”
“The pantry, messire,” said Tom, yawning wide. “Bôte sent them all down late. She said Lady Alaida was too tired to have anyone about.”
Alaida. Without bothering to ask, Ari flew up the stairs.
The utter silence of the solar confirmed the worst. Signs of hurried departure were everywhere, from the night linens on the floor to Alaida’s jewel casket lying open and empty on the bed.
“Ah, God,” said Oswald behind him. He pushed past Ari and ransacked the room, ripping aside draperies and opening cupboards and chests as though he might find them inside. His bellow of helpless rage echoed through the hall as he collapsed to his knees. “God help me, I have failed her. I have failed my lady.”
“We’ve all failed her, Marshal, but regret will do her no good.” He scanned the room, taking in what was there and what wasn’t. “Whoever carried them off took warm clothes for the women and things for the child. They intend to keep them alive. For ransom, perhaps. I want everyone awake and in the hall. Hold them there. I want no one disturbing the tracks.”
Oswald stormed downstairs barking orders, and Ari took one more look around the solar. This time, a gleam of metal beneath the bed caught his eye. He crossed to pull the object out: Ivo’s sword and, hooked on it, his gray tunic. With a sick feeling, he reached under the bed and discovered the rest of Ivo’s clothes.
Balls. This was bad. Ivo had clearly turned eagle here … With a groan, Ari looked toward the window. He could see it: the eagle rising over the cradle, Alaida screaming, just as in his visions. But it had been Ivo, not Beatrice. Alaida had seen Ivo change. No one had taken them. She had run in terror.
He sagged against the bedpost and pounded his skull with his fists. “Odin, what have I done?”
He would carve the visions out of his head if he could, but as he’d told Oswald, regret was no use. What was needed now was to fix this. They were going to have to flee, that was certain, but first they must get Alaida and Beatrice safely back, without further exposing Ivo. Working quickly, he rolled Ivo’s clothes inside his linen shirt, then tied the bundle with a strip torn from the bottom of Alaida’s discarded kirtle, checking to be sure none of Ivo’s gray showed. He stepped to the door and called for Tom.
The boy trotted upstairs still yawning. “Messire, have Lady Alaida and Lady Beatrice truly been stolen away?”
“So it seems.” Ari considered how best to say this. “I have a task for you, Squire, but no one must know what you do. Will you swear your silence in service of your lord and lady?”
Wide eyes grave, the boy nodded. “Of course, messire.”
“Go to the stable and saddle Fax.”
“Did Lord Ivo not take him this morning?”
“No. He … had something to do on foot. Take Fax to Merewyn’s cottage and wait there for him. And take these things with you.” Ari indicated the clothes and sword.
“His sword! Messire, he goes nowhere without his sword.”
“He did this morning—but again, no one must know, so I will drop them out the window to you. Can you get out the gate without anyone knowing you go?”
“The guards will see me pass.”
“I’ll call them inside. Get Fax, then whistle when you’re ready. Make sure no one sees you leave, Tom. This is important.”
“I understand, messire. My lord will need his armor, too.”
Ari hesitated. Ivo’s mail would be costly to replace, but … “No. He’ll need to ride light. Run, Tom.”
Tom sped from the room. Ari went to the landing and called for Oswald to bring the guards in, then went back to wait by the window and consider his plan for flaws. It seemed like only moments had passed when Tom whistled. He had both Fax and his dun horse ready to ride. Ari dropped the clothes, then the sword and belt, and the boy quickly fastened them to Fax’s saddle.
“Use the postern gate,” Ari called down. “Make sure the yard is clear.”
Tom nodded and started off, and Ari went downstairs. Every voice dropped silent as he strode to the front of the hall.
“Lady Alaida has been taken, along with her child and maid. We do not know who took them or why, so Alnwick is to prepare as if for war.” He waited while worry murmured through the room and settled into a grim determination. “I will carry word to Lord Ivo and Brand, and we will ride down whoever has done this, and get the women back.”
“Please, messire, let me go with you,” pleaded Edric, clearly wanting to redeem himself. “You know I have a good eye.”
Ari shook his head. “Every man is needed here until we know who and what we face. Oswald, you have command. Be ready for anything.”
“Yes, messire, and we will be ready to ride as well, if needed.”
“Good.” Ari looked out over the men and women he had known and laughed with for nearly a year, silently bade them farewell, and left.
Starting at the postern gate, he rode arcs back and forth in the fog until he spotted marks in the soft earth. He wasn’t surprised by what he found: two sets of footprints, both women’s, one light and one heavy, headed toward the bridge. He picked the trail up again on the other side of the river, and saw where they veered west. There were a few hoofprints nearby, but they looked older, and surely if someone was taking them and had mounts, the women would have been put on horseback to make the escape quicker.
No. Alaida was going of her own will and, for whatever reason, on foot. He could easily ride her down, but what then? She was clever and might have figured out he was the raven that rode Brand’s shoulder each night. If so, she would never willingly return with him.
But he could track her at least, and let Ivo know where she’d gone.
Then he could decide what to do.
IN ITS PANIC, the eagle flew fast and far, and by the time Ivo regained a piece of himself and turned the bird back toward the village, the fog had boiled up so thick it hid the land for miles. Disoriented, the bird circled between blue sky and a sea of white, searching for some sign—a familiar tree, the top of the tower—until the exhaustion that had caught Ivo in the solar overcame even the eagle’s strength. Unable to fly more, he sailed down into the mist until he found a tall tree, lit on a sheltered branch, and slept.
When he woke, the fog had burned off and the tower showed in the far distance. He flew toward Alnwick, but it was late and he barely had time to skim past the walls before the approach of sunset forced him toward the woods.
As he passed over Merewyn’s cottage, Fax’s familiar whinny drew him down. He found Tom standing between Fax and his dun, watching the woods as though expecting someone. The boy spotted the bird overhead and called out.
Merewyn came out wiping her hands on a cloth. She looked up and said something to Tom about pottage. The boy vanished into the house, and Merewyn picked up a bundle from the stool by her door and headed into the woods. The eagle followed her to a clearing, where she laid the bundle on the ground, cut the bindings, and stepped away. He sailed down to land nearby, and as the sun slid below the horizon, the pain hit.
Merewyn watched until he started to become more man than eagle, then turned away, giving him priv
acy while he lay there naked and agonized on the ground. The pain still twisted him as he crawled to his clothes.
“She saw me,” said Ivo between pain-clenched teeth.
“Yes, my lord. I guessed when Tom came with Fax, and then Sir Ari came a little while ago and told me all. My lord …” She hesitated, and even from behind her, Ivo could tell she was unhappy about what she had to say. “Lady Alaida is gone, and Lady Beatrice and Bôte with her.”
He froze with one foot in his breeks. “Gone? Gone where?”
“Run from you, my lord. From the eagle.”
Ivo groaned. “Alaida … Why didn’t Ari and Oswald bring them back?”
“Your men think they were stolen away for ransom, and Sir Ari let them believe it, to protect both you and her. But he tracked them. They’re on foot. The raven will show you their path—he comes with Brand.”
“They’re all right, though?”
“Yes, my lord, but there is much troubling about what passed this morning.”
He continued dressing while she told him of how Ari had been delayed in reaching the manor and of what he’d found there.
“I also slept too hard,” said Ivo, dread slithering up his spine like a viper. “That’s how I was caught. I thought I was merely tired.”
“’Twas more than that, my lord.” She turned, her brow furrowed with concern. “The morning mist was strange. I was milking my goats when it came up. It rose suddenly, from everywhere at once, and I could taste the evil in it. The birds felt it as well. They’ve not sung all day.”
Ivo shook his head. “I sensed nothing.”
“Perhaps because the eagle is not truly a bird, my lord.”
“Tell my wife that.” Bile scalded his throat.
Her eyes filled with sympathy. “I will if you wish, my lord. I can come with you and explain it to her, soothe her fears.”
Ivo shook his head. He’d seen the terror, the repulsion, on Alaida’s face. “She has seen too much magic already to be soothed by more, even from you. Anyway, Bôte saw me as well. Things are too far gone.” He fastened his boots and rose. “My sword?”
“With Tom. He knows none of this, my lord. Just that someone stole them away. I left it for you to tell him if you choose.” She led him back toward the cottage.
Tom met them at the edge of the clearing. “My lord! I heard screams, like an injured man. I thought—”
“’Twas the eagle,” said Merewyn, making Ivo’s heart skip a beat. “On a squirrel.”
“I find myself without weapon, Squire,” said Ivo, anxious to get Tom on to something else and take that doubt off his face.
Tom retrieved the sword and belt. “’Tis sharp, my lord. I honed it while I waited.”
“Good lad.” As Ivo buckled his belt, Merewyn slipped into the cottage and returned bearing a bowl and spoon.
“Eat, my lord, while you wait for Sir Brand.”
Ivo took the bowl gratefully and began shoveling the hot pottage in as fast as he could. Merewyn made another trip inside, this time reappearing with a skin of ale, a loaf of bread, and a plump cheese. Tom stowed them on Fax while Ivo finished his meal.
The sound of heavy horses crashing through the underbrush told them Brand was coming. Ivo handed the bowl to Merewyn and swung up on Fax. Tom went to his dun.
“Where are you going, Squire?”
“With you, my lord.”
Ivo shook his head. “I want you at the castle. Oswald needs men for the wall.”
“But, my lord, I—”
“The wall, Thomas.”
He bowed his head, however unwillingly. “Yes, my lord.”
Brand rode up, leading Ari’s bay. “What is this damnable bird trying to tell me? Where were you this morning? What’s Tom doing here?”
“I’ll tell you on the way,” said Ivo. “My thanks, Healer.”
She stepped forward. “Take me with you, my lord. Lady Alaida will need—”
“No. I won’t put you in danger as well.”
“Danger?” said Brand. “Who’s in danger?”
“Later,” snapped Ivo. “Leave Ari’s horse and come.” He put the spurs to Fax and headed for the river.
BRAND HESITATED A moment, then gave Merewyn a smile and a shrug, tossed the bay’s reins to Tom, and tore off after his friend.
Merewyn watched him go, burning the memory of how he looked into her heart. She might see him again, for a little, but once he and Lord Ivo brought the women back safely, they would be gone forever. Every memory became suddenly precious.
Behind her, Tom cursed softly. She blinked back the tears and turned to find him wearing a sullen frown. “Why are you so angry?”
“Lord Ivo made me squire,” he grumbled. “But he never lets me ride with him.”
“He wants you better trained first, so you’ll be safe.”
“But he doesn’t even take me hunting! I’m good with a bow.”
“Your time will come, Tom. Patience.” He would need a great deal of that now, to find another knight willing to have a bastard stableboy as squire. “Come inside and finish your meal before you go.”
She refilled his bowl and cut him a thick slab of cheese, then left him while she went to care for her animals. When she had finished, she found him standing in the doorway, still aggrieved, fiddling with some small charm that hung on a thin chain around his neck and looking so much like his father that her heart squeezed tight.
“What have you there?” she asked, trying to distract him from his disappointment.
“Hmm? Oh, this.” He held the bit of silver up. “ ’ Tis my good luck piece.”
Merewyn looked closer, and the hairs rose on her arms. “Where did you get that?”
“My—A man found it in the well the last time they cleaned it. He gave it to me.”
A man. Aelfwine, he meant—he’d been the one lowered into the well five years ago to scoop out the muck, the only one who’d been willing to go down. This was probably the last gift he’d ever given the boy. But that wasn’t what chilled her. “Has Lord Ivo ever seen it?”
He looked at her oddly. “I don’t think so. I keep it under my shirt most times. But I think its luck made him choose me for squire. See?” He tilted the token in the fading light. “’Tis an eagle, like his shield.”
No, like the one Brand had shown her in Ari’s book—Lord Ivo’s amulet. Well. Curse. Token. Monster. Sleeping men. Her mind spun over it all at dizzying speed, and suddenly her cottage vanished and she was sailing over the land north of the river, watching Bôte lay Lady Beatrice before the standing stone.
“Merewyn?”
She thumped back to earth and, without pausing to think, ran inside and grabbed her rune sticks off the shelf. “Mother, what must I do?”
She dropped the sticks on the table by Tom’s empty bowl. Only three fell face up: Guide, Lover, Death. Her breath caught in her throat, but she nodded, obedient to the Goddess even in this. “I understand, Mother. So mote it be.”
Tom stared at her from the door. “I had heard you were a witch.”
“Only a small one. Squire, are you willing to disobey your lord to help save his lady and daughter?”
He jerked his head toward the runes. “Do your sticks say I must?”
“No. They say I must, but I have no way to follow them. Will you help me?”
He stared at her, then nodded and started toward the horses. “The bay is faster. Sir Ari will forgive us, I think.”
When he put a hand down to help her up, his strength surprised her. “You’re becoming a man, Tom.”
“Aye.” He gave her a wise look over his shoulder. “As good a one as my father, I hope.”
So he did know. Merewyn wrapped her arms around his waist and gave him the hug she would never give a son of her own body. “If you are, you will surely become the knight Lord Ivo wants you to be. Can we catch them?”
“Aye. Hold tight.” He dug his toes into the bay’s ribs and they were off.
CHAPTER 29
&nbs
p; TO AVOID THE bridge and the eyes of Alnwick’s guards, Brand and Ivo forded the river above the upper weir, then turned west. As they followed the raven over the moors, Ivo explained the situation as best he could.
“So we are through here,” said Brand heavily. “Once we see them safely home, we must go.”
To hear it put so bluntly made Ivo’s gut knot, but he nodded. “Aye.”
“I had finally … Merewyn.” Brand’s groan came from so deep it seemed to rise from the soil beneath them. “I didn’t even tell her farewell.”
“I could say nothing before the boy. I’m sorry.”
“She knows, though?”
“Aye. She’ll understand.” Unlike Alaida, who would never understand why he’d done what he had, how badly he had wanted her and all she represented. The only good thing in all this was that he hadn’t had to take Beatrice from her—Beatrice, whom he would never hear laugh or see walk. “I should have stayed in the woods.”
“No. You were right to come out. We cannot hide forever. You’ve shown us we can live among men again.”
“Only to leave. No matter what we do, no matter how long we make it last, we will always have to leave.” Leave wives and daughters and friends and eager young squires.
“’Tis no worse than other men face when they go to war,” said Brand.
“Other men go to war hoping to come home. We leave with no hope at all.” He thought of Beatrice again, and of Alaida, who had warmed him clear through and now would teach his daughter to fear and despise him. “We can never return.”
“Perhaps you can find a way,” countered Brand. “But even if you cannot, at least you’ve tasted a man’s life once more.”
“And found it bitter.”
“No, Ivar. You’ve had a wife and a child. That is as sweet as life ever gets.”
Ivo had nothing to say to that truth. They rode on in silence until the raven veered south from the track. The land seemed familiar from the day the eagle had followed Alaida. Suddenly, he knew where they must be going. “The standing stone.”
“From Wat’s story?”
Ivo nodded. “’Tis just ahead, in the wood near the bottom of that hill. What would they be doing at the stone? They haven’t come very far.”