Treasure So Rare (Women of Strength Time Travel Trilogy)

by Grace Brannigan

  "Recognize you this crest? It is the crest of Weinroof of Camdork."

  Moving swiftly, Erik stepped forward to knock the shield from the other's hold. The shield landed face down in the sand as Erik brought his sword swiftly up against the man's neck. Deliberately, he touched the blade to flesh, pulling the man to his chest, ignoring Camdork's man Ulrich who moved threateningly closer. He could feel the heat of the man at his back.

  "Call him off and drop the sword," Erik instructed softly. Camdork jerked his hand back and Ulrich retreated. He dropped his own sword to the sand and it clattered against the shield. Erik kicked both away with his boot. "I have just arrived, and I find this a poor welcome for a visitor to your land."

  "You must go to Dutton Keep in my stead," choked out the other man.

  "What makes you think you can bid me to follow your orders?"

  The man managed to jerk his head toward his men. Erik turned but too late. Two of Camdork's men grabbed Jock by the elbows and pulled him back, his heels digging into the sand. One of the men held Jock against him, his arm tight against his throat in the same manner that Erik now held Camdork. Jock stared at Erik, grave apology evident in his eyes. His small size gave him no leverage against the giant who held him.

  "You will go in my stead," the man choked, "or my men will make short work of that one. A small twist and his neck will snap. Or perhaps we could make sport and have him drawn and quartered, his innards left for the birds to pick at."

  Erik tightened his fingers, allowing the steel edge to cut into the man's skin, causing a small trickle of blood to run, soaking into his wool mantle. "Why do you threaten my ship and involve me in this scheme? I should cut your throat."

  "Nay, desist. Think you are quick enough before a blade finds its way to your heart?"

  The dark giant, Ulrich, was at his back. Jock was hoisted between two of Camdork's men. With a mutter, Erik stepped back slowly, lowering his sword.

  Camdork straightened. "You have no choice but to do my bidding," he growled, adjusting his hauberk which had been twisted askew, and then he smiled. "In my stead you will go to Dutton Keep. It is hidden deep along the edge of the forest, an advantageous site that controls trade into the countryside. You will find the village and then the keep a mere day's ride from here. You must swear on your scrawny friend's life to do as I bid ye."

  Camdork looked Erik up and down and sneered, "We may look alike but you come from the sea, a sailor, not quite what was expected. But you will have to do."

  "And who is Iliana?" Erik asked coolly.

  "She is pledged to me by the queen. I am on my way to Dutton Keep, but have discovered a vile plot against my queen is afoot. I am needed elsewhere."

  "If I am to go in your stead, I would hear what it is you have planned," Erik declared, a deep tightness in his chest.

  Suspiciously, the other man peered into his face, a muscle twitching alongside his mouth. "It is a simple matter of a betrothal." His smile was feral. "The women of this land warrant the handling of a man unafraid of womanly vapors. I have heard Iliana detests the very idea of marriage -- but I have vowed to have her." He laughed. "My queen has granted my wish."

  "And what is it I must do? If you think so highly of the Lady Iliana, why have me go in your stead?"

  "You are in no position to question what I am about. Suffice it to say you are to be Weinroof of Camdork, affianced to my lady, the fair Iliana of Dutton, until I have no further need of you." He stepped back and looked Eric up and down. "Who else could you be? You will carry my shield. You fit the description given."

  "This ruse will not work."

  Camdork's mouth thinned with displeasure, "The sorcerer Mandrak will see to the rest. I have had the pleasure of meeting my lady Graziela, sister to Iliana, but not Iliana herself. Due to skirmishes and other happenstances, I have not been in this part of the country for some four years." His eyes narrowed and his mouth turned down. "You bear the scars of the lash upon you, as do I." He turned his head and Erik saw the sign of the lash as it scarred through the beard covering his jaw. "She will have heard of these scars." His hand briefly touched his own cheek, his expression turning sour once again. "She will not dare to question the authority of her queen."

  Despite the obvious danger, Erik sensed the beginnings of an intriguing adventure. He did not question how this could be that he and his ship had sailed to another time. Men had disappeared for years at sea. Had he found a portal to traverse the strictures of time? His own brother, he hoped, had found a way to a different time with his wife Elise...

  Having begun this plotting, Camdork now appeared sullen. "I am told Iliana is similar in appearance to Graziela, fair of form with unblemished skin and fine teeth, and possessed of a gentle nature. My queen knows of my devotion to this match and has therefore ordered this most advantageous marriage. You are merely to go in my stead and keep her safe until I come to claim her. I will explain all to Iliana when the time arrives. Guard her with your life, but be forewarned, should you touch her, I shall kill you and this little man." He jerked his head carelessly toward Jock. "And the ship which you prize so highly will be burned in the water. I order you to see to it Iliana does not escape and harm herself." His smile was a slight twist of thin lips, "Guard her or you shall die in a most gruesome way."

  Erik glanced at Jock, who rolled his eyes and shook his head.

  "Iliana is no longer young," Camdork said. "She was hidden at a country manor until it was determined she was needed when Graziela retired to a monastery. Now that I have expressed my interest in an alliance, no lord or vassal in the kingdom would dare to have her. The agreement has been signed, needs be the ceremony is yet to take place, but we are man and wife in the eyes of England. See that naught happens to my bride."

  "And what reward is there in it for me?" Erik asked.

  Camdork laughed shortly. "You get to live. When I no longer require your services, you may return to your ship."

  Erik felt uneasiness at this plot, and a plot he was sure it was. In his bones he knew things were dreadfully amiss. He would play this game and see it to whatever end. Despite the danger, his appetite was whetted and curiosity aroused. Perhaps he could play the role, if only for a short while. Jock's life depended upon his cooperation as did that of his men and ship, at least until they could get the ship free from whatever held it chained in those waters.

  "Well, then," he said gruffly, feigning impatience, "take me to this keep so that I may do my duty by the queen. When do we leave?"

  Camdork looked at him sharply, brows lowered with suspicion, then he emitted an abrupt laugh. "Right away. 'Tis a fortnight before Mayday, as well you know. You must be fully ensconced at Dutton Keep by the Mayday celebration." Camdork indicated a horse for him to ride. "Come, we will switch garments. Just remember I shall be keeping watch, always near. For now Ulrich will instruct you. You!" he shouted at Jock. "You shall ride with me."

  Erik looked at Jock, knowing him to be a scrappy mate but worried nonetheless. Jock shrugged, then looked resigned. "Be well, Jock," Erik said. Don't do anything foolish.

  Chapter Four

  They left Camdork at the seafront and Erik rode all day along the sea coast with the men at arms. Camdork's man Ulrich ignored him, his massive horse leading the way. The man had been given his orders to keep him in line and to report to Camdork regularly. He'd sent Erik a grim look before turning his back and starting off. Erik too wasn't in favor of this situation but knew enough right now to keep his mouth shut. It was not difficult; Ulrich said not a word.

  Erik took note of everything that went on about him. The men's talk, crude jokes, reminisces about previous skirmishes. It puzzled him greatly why he'd been sent in Camdork's behest. Could he really pull off an impersonation and why did Camdork want to hide? From the little he gleaned by listening to conversations around him, the fellow was truly a beast and a murderer of innocents. He wreaked havoc wherever he went. In his years of service for his government, Erik had seen many a scoun
drel, but a man that thought nothing of killing children and innocents held no regard for life whatsoever.

  Erik needed to tread carefully in this deadly situation. He certainly did not trust Camdork to be a man of honor nor did he trust him to keep his word when this scheme was over. Jock was smart, and he hoped agile enough to evade Camdork when the time was right.

  Erik had to wonder what other trickery this world held. Their ship had been turned end over end to get here and yet the last he had seen of her in the water, she'd look as fit as any other day, and he thanked God for that. It would be his means of escape if his men could free her from whatever witchcraft held her fast in the water.

  Their troop kept to the roads, riding through the countryside. The grass, Erik thought, should have been fresh and green, but instead was brown and yellow. Even the leaves trying to bud on the tree were small and stunted. The roads traveled were a mired, muddy mess, in some places no more than a goat path, and they tromped through mud up to the horses' knees as they trudged through swamps. The horse he rode was a sturdy steed, a destrier, one of the men had called it, and he was built solidly and was a comfortable ride. Having raised horses with his brother Darien, Erik wondered at the horse's lineage. For an animal so large, he certainly had a beautiful head, and Erik would have bet there was Arabian in his line.

  Erik wasn't too fond of Camdork's garments that he'd been made to wear. A quilted shirt with tiny chain links, and then linen braies the men had called them, and longer trousers over those. To his chagrin, his sturdy leather boots had been taken away, and he'd been given ill fitting leather shoes that felt as if they'd been wet and dried repeatedly, leaving them stiff and chafing already at his ankles. He tried to ignore the stench he carried, since the borrowed clothing was none too clean. All of it had been cast off from Camdork, and Erik looked forward to a hot bath, should that be an option, if they arrived somewhere civilized.

  As they traveled the road gradually became firmer and much dryer, and as they passed a small village, Erik was reminded of his home in the Catskills. Gone, all gone, as his brother was gone. And Elise, sweet Elise. Erik smiled at his thoughts, hoping his brother and sister-in-law had found the place they'd sought in her time.

  The dense foliage and forest gave way to a wide-open clearing. Erik looked up at a castle in the distance, the sun settling upon the stone, giving it a pink-rose hue in the late afternoon glow. The sky was a blue jeweled backdrop, and yet directly over the castle the sky was blood-red. Erik had sailed the world at large since he had been a boy, but never had he experienced such an intense display of color. The cold grey stone of the castle was surrounded by a mystical haze. He shook his head, cautiously glancing around, looking at the faces beside him, wondering if he was the only one seeing that haze.

  None of the other men looked to the sky in appreciation or wonder, they just plodded ahead. How faithful were they to a man of Camdork's breed? Could he buy any of them off and obtain more information? An idea with merit, but right now he was a man without coin. He needed to lay low and listen and watch. His life and that of his men on the Merry Maiden depended upon his skills of observation and his ability to keep his thoughts to himself.

  A shadow passed overhead and he looked up again. He clenched his jaw, biting make the curse that rose to his lips. Mother of God! There was a winged creature in the sky. It appeared half as long as the Merry Maiden, and she was eighty feet long. A dragon.

  No one seemed to pay any heed to the dark winged creature.

  Feeling as if he were being watched, Erik looked to his side. Ulrich's eyes were narrowed on him. Erik jerked a thumb toward the sky. Ulrich tipped his head back slightly, his eyes looking upward. With a frown, he looked back at Eric, shrugging.

  "'Tis only a wer-dragon." Ulrich ignored him once more.

  Erik stared again at the creature, the wings swooping up and down like a bird in flight. A dragon. It turned in the air and flew off just like a bird. On its scaly gray back he saw a sparkling of blue light, like gemstones capturing the light, and then it was gone.

  ¤¤

  As they passed through another small village, Erik noted how well cared for the small thatched-roof houses appeared, the dwellings whitewashed and neat. Small gardens in the side yards, people tending to their animals. Several villagers stopped to watch as their small army ride by, their glances hostile, the men running to pull their children from the path of the trotting horses. A small cart in the road sat at an odd angle and as they drew nearer, and Erik saw the wheel had broken.

  The man jumped off the cart in panic as the troop bore down on him. He ran around the cart and began to help a woman, heavily pregnant, from the cart. A soldier ahead of Erik lunged toward the cart, raising his arm in which he held a stick.

  Erik put his heels to his mount, and his horse responded with quick agility. "Stop!" he yelled, and ran his horse in front of the other man's mount, so that the two horses met shoulder to shoulder.

  The man turned his attention from the couple on the ground, swinging the pointed stick in his hands, his scowl ferocious. Upon seeing Erik, he quickly pulled his horse back and dropped the hand with the weapon.

  "My Lord Camdork, I thought only to get them to move so as not to delay you," the man said.

  "Drop the stick," Erik said harshly.

  "I am sorry, my Lord Camdork." The man looked down.

  Erik felt the stillness around him. "Ride to the back," he said.

  With tight lips, the man immediately obeyed, urging his horse around the troops and riding to the back of the line.

  "Ride on," he said, and he led the procession around the man, his cart and the pregnant woman. Thinking about the soldier's quick compliance, he wondered again about this charade, pretending to be Camdork. Erik grimaced. He was already getting a taste of the norm for Camdork's brutality.

  "Camdork would not have interfered," said a voice beside him. Erik looked over at Ulrich.

  "Good," he said. "I don't want my actions associated in any way with that scoundrel."

  Ulrich smiled grimly. "Pretender, it is too late for that. You are him. Surely you know a spell has been cast so the men see only Camdork?"

  Erik stared at him. What could he say?

  Ulrich nudged his horse into a canter and rode ahead.

  Erik stared after him, eyes narrowed. He had to wonder why the other men saw him as Camdork and yet Ulrich knew him for who he was -- a pretender?

  ¤¤

  As they drew nearer the keep, Erik stared anew at the sun-burnt fields, the grass stubbled and stunted. Trees were sparse, and the ones that did grow were short and twisted.

  He stared ahead at the keep, marveling at the workmanship in the structure and the ledge it had been erected upon. An enormous water-filled moat surrounded the keep, overrun with green growth along its surface. The wide and sturdy drawbridge had been pulled up against the castle's stone walls. Not a very encouraging welcome for the husband-to-be, he thought grimly. From his viewpoint, it appeared there was no other way inside. He could not blame her ladyship for the lack of welcome, knowing the little he knew of Camdork.

  The lady had good reason to deny this group of renegades entry to her keep, but Erik had to wonder if her denying entry to Camdork would create a hardship for not only herself, but all of her people. He couldn't imagine a queen would take lightly to an official order being challenged.

  His horse shifted beneath him. Erik was in no hurry to storm a medieval castle, which did not even seem possible since there was no feasible point of forced entry. Standing beside the water he looked down into its murky depths as best he could. The moat itself looked to have some kind of metal apparatus beneath the water's surface.

  They sat waiting for a matter of fifteen minutes or more, before the wooden drawbridge was slowly lowered and settled heavily against an upraised earth platform with a dull thump. As they began to cross the drawbridge, the horses' hooves echoed loudly on the wooden planks. The inside gate opened and with a growl Ulrich impati
ently motioned them inside the walls. Erik looked about him as they passed through the stone walls into the inner courtyard. The stone walls were themselves some three feet thick.

  People stood alongside as they entered the cobbled courtyard. A farrier stood with a smoking iron tool in his hand, a woman held a wooden paddle before her, and children peeked from behind the adults. One young woman wielded a straw broom on the end of a long wooden handle. One by one, women washing clothes in wooden tubs paused to watch them ride by and pulled wooden paddles from the wash water. It appeared most of the adult population was ready for a fight and were arming themselves with whatever they had at hand. Having seen the weapons Camdork's small army possessed, he didn't hold out much hope for anyone armed with a wooden washing paddle or farrier iron.

  ¤¤

  Erik felt this entire world was becoming more and more of a mystery. He and his men had been landed in this foreign place, in a time he did not recognize, among people who viewed dragons in the sky as commonplace. Erik could see further proof of the distrust and hostility on every person's face as they watched him, masquerading as Camdork, and the men-at-arms, according to what he'd overheard, were all paid mercenaries.

  And what of the Lady Iliana, he wondered? She would think he was Camdork, a man who by his own account had molested her sister, the lady Graziela. Erik groaned. Therein lay just cause to hate him.

  Upon gaining entry, they now entered the huge bailey cautiously, expecting a rain of arrows or other projectiles. Her ladyship's men stood shoulder to shoulder along the wall walk surrounding the entire bailey. They stood stiffly at attention, apparently unarmed, not a blade, arrow or sword to be seen among them, and for that he was grateful, because he and every other man on horseback were vulnerable targets.