“And I could help our mama understand why ’tis wrong to blame you. Now go!”
Stephen pressed his lips to his sister’s warm cheek before striding out.
After retrieving his sword, he went straight to the stable, where Gaetan was already preparing Stephen’s courser. The saddle he chose was a lightweight one, and the bridle was already secured on the stallion’s large head. The animal stamped his feet impatiently. When Stephen leaped onto his mount, his weight agitated the beast further. Stephen steadied him by circling the boy, who fearfully eyed the huge animal he didn’t completely trust.
“I will head east toward Colchester, stopping at Dunmow Keep on my way,” he said, accepting a dagger from the boy. “Should Rowena be found, I want someone to catch up with me immediately.” He then galloped out of the stable.
* * *
Rowena crept forward, hugging her son close in case he awoke. The flickering campfire had attracted her from afar, and she made her way stealthily through the forest toward it. She accidentally snapped a twig and froze, with her head down and body hidden, until she was sure the men in front of her had not heard her over the crackling fire.
Still hidden in the trees, she lifted her head and watched three men as they sat around the fire. One man, whose back was to her, coughed loudly. Though their words were spoken in low tones, they rang clearly through the night. They were Saxons, discussing the division of some money. One, the man who coughed too much, held the purse strings, she thought, for the others were asking when their shares would come.
They leaned toward each other, heads close, and their voices lowered until she could no longer hear them. Finally, two of the men stood and wandered into the woods for a moment. One returned to sit on a mossy log and pick up the conversation.
The third was cooking a rabbit over the fire, turning it on a makeshift spit. The alluring scent of seared meat reached through the trees to fill Rowena’s nostrils. Poaching game was forbidden in the forests, but Rowena knew ’twas done more often than not. King William’s forests were too vast to be successfully guarded all the time. The other man began to scrape the rabbit’s hide with his knife.
Rowena shifted to ease a stiff muscle in her back. She peered hard at the pair, trying to identify them, but with the flickering firelight, their faces were nothing but distorted expressions.
All she wanted was to know which way, if any, they planned to go. ’Twould decide her own route. But they said nothing of their journey. Only one thing was certain. They would not be traveling tonight, which meant she could mayhap put another mile of road in before resting again.
She eased back as quietly as possible. Time to move on.
Then she turned.
A hand clamped over her mouth as an arm swung around to pin the slumbering Andrew to her.
She’d been caught.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Stephen galloped his mount for the first quarter mile, then reined him in. ’Twas hard on the beast, and he could easily roar right past Rowena and not even know it.
He gritted his teeth. Something about her made him lose all sensibility. In London, he prided himself on remaining cool and detached from all emotion, focusing only on the king’s safety. What was it about that tender, pale woman that made him such an addled fool?
Was Josane right, though she didn’t say the word? Did he love her? Aye, he knew he was beginning to care for Rowena, but was he even capable of loving? He’d long since closed off his heart. How could he expect himself to love when he’d been responsible for his beloved brother’s death?
Was he? His heart squeezed as he considered Josane’s words. She had decided not to blame him anymore.
So, could he also stop blaming himself? His heart squeezed. He just couldn’t.
Stephen’s thoughts wandered back to his sister. Her marriage was unraveling like a poorly sewn chemise giving in at the slightest pull and tug. Gilles was spending more and more time dealing with Saxons and less at home, where he should be.
Ahead, the sparse trees thickened, and in the full moon’s light, as it began to set, he spied a simple signpost, the whitewashed letters practically aglow. When he pulled his horse to a halt, he saw the sign read, Haingheham 20 miles, Colcestra 30 miles, Melforda 15 miles.
He had forgotten about this fork in the road. Hedingham and Colchester, he translated from the ancient Saxon language. They were on the same sliver of a road. Long Melford was to the left, a road much better to walk along.
Stephen hesitated. Rowena had Andrew, and because of him, several days’ travel ahead to get to Dunmow, which lay before Colchester. But the road was barely a dirt path and the forest thick and dangerous, harder to walk with a babe. Melford was closer and the road better traveled.
Which would she take?
His courser anxious to move again, Stephen gripped the reins. He had to decide, and quickly, for he didn’t want to waste time. Should he take the Colchester route, Rowena could easily reach Melford before he realized she was not on that road. If he took the way to Melford, she could become lost in the difficult path that was supposed to be the way to Colchester.
Yet, she’d have had to come that way to Kingstown. ’Twould be more familiar to her.
His horse turned toward Melford, preferring the wider route.
Lord, give me wisdom.
Stephen shut his eyes, then after a moment’s breath of time, he swung his horse to the right. Rowena would go to her friend and a dangerous path would not stop her. She was not one to shirk a difficult task or take the road better traveled.
* * *
Rowena fought off her assailant, awakening Andrew, who screamed his own protest.
“Silence, woman, or I will slice off your head!”
She stilled immediately and found herself being dragged through the trees until her captor reached the campfire. There, he tossed her onto the ground.
Rowena threw out her hands to prevent falling on Andrew. His screams rent the night air.
“’Tis a woman?” one man called out as he stood. “We’re being followed by a woman and her brat?”
Her captor hauled her up and yanked off the hood of her cloak, revealing her pale hair. “Nay, not any woman, but the one I told you of. Rowena.”
She spun at his voice and gasped. Her attacker! The man she’d drawn on the parchment for Stephen! The one Stephen had searched for and who had escaped.
Lord in Heaven, protect me! Stephen, find me!
Andrew screamed even louder. She huddled down, trying to soothe him, shaking all over and knowing he would sense her fear and continue his screams.
“This is that woman? Why is she following us?”
Hundar prodded her with his foot. “Why did you follow us?”
“I–I didn’t. I have run away from Kingstown.”
“Going where?”
“To Dunmow Keep. I have friends there.” She continued to bob Andrew in a vain attempt to soothe him.
“Why are you running away? You would have a good life at the manor.”
“Why did you attack me?”
Leaning forward, Hundar pressed a knifepoint to her throat. “Answer me!”
“I would not have a good life at the manor! My father has come for me, and I don’t wish to return to my home. He sold me before.”
Hundar scoffed as he grimaced as if in pain. “Sold you? ’Tis an unlikely story.”
“’Tis true!” She eased away from his blade as she looked him up and down. “You’re injured.”
“A little stiff, but no Norman soldier will ever best me in a good fight. I was ready for him.”
She gasped. “You escaped Lord Stephen’s men as if you knew they were coming!”
The man laughed, then fell into a fit of phlegm-filled coughing again. Sweat beaded on his face as he spat. When he was finished, he said, “Like Lord Stephen, I have my spies.”
With Andrew settling, Rowena peered up at Hundar. He sweated so much. Was he ill? “I don’t understand. I don’t kno
w you. Why did you attack me?”
“For the coins. I have been well paid.”
“We have been well paid, Hundar,” one of the men corrected him. “Remember we helped you.”
“You’ve done nothing!” he snapped at the other two. “Be thankful for what I give you!”
“I want it now,” one growled.
“You’ll get it when I see fit to give it to you. Look, we have more than coins now. We have the woman.”
The one cooking the rabbit stood. “And what would we do with her? You hired us to hide you and swear to your innocence if necessary. I won’t kidnap anyone.”
“You’ll do as I say!”
The cook threw down the poker he held. “Nay! You’ll not change the agreement.”
“Think, Hundar!” the other man said. “We cannot just kidnap her and then let her go so she can finger us. And I won’t be killing my own kind. She’s a Saxon, and by the looks of that babe, she’s had enough problems with Normans. We should leave her be.”
“You’ll both do as I say!”
“Then pay us now and be done with us,” the first man said. “I won’t have anyone’s blood on my hands. And I won’t have you holding the purse strings like a Norman overlord.”
Hundar grabbed Rowena’s arm to yank her closer. The man’s sweat and filth overpowered her, and she gasped at the stench. His arms were thin but sinewy, like the ancient vines that covered the south side of the chapel. He continued to cough in her ear. “You’ll do as I say, or this woman’s death will be on your heads, do you understand? I’ll swear you killed her, not me! See what Lord Stephen does then!”
Rowena wrenched free and drove the heel of her palm hard into his nose. He cried out and dropped his dagger. The two others leaped on him to scramble for his sack of coins, but in the dirt and darkness, they struggled to find it.
Abruptly, a loud whinny cut the air, and through the brush and trees sprang a huge horse. Rowena lunged out of the way as a long Norman sword arced downward to slice into one man’s side. He screamed, then turned and staggered painfully into the forest. Hundar still hunkered down, his hands covering his face. The cook backed up. The rider turned his mount and the animal kicked the cook hard. The man landed on the outer edge of the fire, singeing his back.
Rowena peered up at the rider. “Stephen!”
He dismounted, grabbing a length of thong from his belt. Then he tied up the cook as the man fought back with the intent to kill. Rowena glanced over at Hundar, who seemed to be squatting with his hands covering his face.
Seems to be. Nothing is as it seems. Hundar was too tense, his fingers spread open too much. He pulled in his breath, and Rowena knew what was coming. “Stephen, watch out!”
Immediately Stephen spun, released his dagger and pinned the man to the downed log. Something clattered to a rock beneath them. Rowena kicked it far. It was another dagger, one that Hundar had had hidden away.
Shooting Rowena a thankful nod, Stephen bound Hundar, as well. The man coughed and spat at his feet, then swore at Rowena.
Disgusted, she turned away to peer into the forest for the third man. “There’s another man!”
“He won’t be back,” Stephen said. “He’s injured and he would have to face his friends’ anger for leaving should he return. Are you unhurt?”
She checked Andrew, who was screaming again. “I’m fine, but Andrew is more than upset.”
“A ride on a horse will calm him.” Stephen bent and grabbed the coin purse. With a frown and a soft mutter, he pocketed the delicate leather pouch and then mounted his horse again. Bending forward, he wrapped his arm around Rowena’s back. She stiffened.
“Nay, Rowena. Relax. Trust me.”
She held her breath. Trust him? Stephen was surely going to turn her over to her father again. With Kingstown on edge, she would be sacrificed to find and arrest rebels, or even to keep the peace. Or she would be called a liar, for punishing her father would incite the villagers, who’d see it as Norman oppression yet again.
But Stephen had found her, and ’twas what she’d prayed for. Was her belief so weak that a babe’s was stronger?
Lord, strengthen my faith.
Rowena looked up at him, eyes watering, watching him as he blurred before her. He’d come for her, and her heart nearly leaped from her chest at the thought.
With a swallow, she battled the doubts that flared within her foolish heart. And hadn’t she just seen the subtle language Hundar’s body spoke and had warned Stephen of it? She’d worked alongside him as he’d once asked her to. Trust him. She took a deep breath and reached for him.
He swung her up onto his lap. She clasped Andrew with one hand, though his sling stayed firm, and with the other, she gripped Stephen.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He leaned forward and kissed her soundly on the lips. Oh, to have him hold her again! The feel of his strong arms around her, the warmth of his lips on hers, battled any doubts within. She shut her eyes while cushioning Andrew’s head as it lay against Stephen’s hard chest.
But when he broke the kiss, she saw his expression had turned grim. “Do not thank me, yet, Rowena. This matter is not finished, I’ve just realized. It has taken a difficult turn, I fear.”
He then swung the horse around and, shielding her and Andrew with his strong arm, he drove the animal through the brush toward the narrow road some distance away. Rowena felt her heart pound in her throat at his cryptic warning, but dared not ask him to explain.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Stephen kept the horse at a canter, hoping the gentle bobbing would soothe Andrew. His crying eased, thankfully, but in its stead came a silence as weighty as a woman heavy with child.
There were so many unspoken issues that needed to be sorted out. Finally, unable to stand it any longer, he drew his horse to a halt. “You ran away, Rowena. You stole some food like a child, too.”
She didn’t answer immediately, but rather clung to him with her head down. Finally, she whispered, “I would have replaced it. I was planning to ask Lady Ediva to send some back here, and I would have worked for the cost.”
He made a soft noise and hoped it didn’t sound disapproving. He cared not for the lost provisions. Rather, he needed to start this conversation with something.
Rowena added, “What are you going to do with those two? You can’t leave them tied up there.”
“Nay, I won’t. I will dispatch a pair of guards to bring them in. The third man is too injured to return to help them. I will send the dog to find him.”
They dropped into silence again. Stephen wondered if he should urge the horse to walk. As if the stallion knew his master, the beast stamped his foot in answer. To ease the edginess, he turned it in a wide circle.
They had not finished this conversation, but he could see no way to segue back to what needed to be said. He finally said firmly, “You need to explain your actions.”
Rowena tipped her head to one side and pressed her cheek against Andrew’s soft curls. He waited.
Did Stephen want her to defend herself? Aye. He could engage that, but not this heavy silence.
Were you planning to argue your point? What was your point? How you forced her decision to run away? How you were justified to treat her father so kindly?
He wasn’t. But he did not want a rebellion. Or was it just the way he preferred to work?
Slyly, hoping those who opposed you would slip up and make a mistake, so you could justify an arrest? Or accusingly, like Josane, until the truth of your actions slapped you in the face?
Stephen tightened his grip on the reins. ’Twas easier to fight on his own terms than to risk the unknown. Aye, and ’twas easier to do what he wanted than to trust that God had His own plan.
What about his plans? Such as the ones he’d implemented using Rowena as bait. In his quest to find her, he’d set aside the fact he’d used her for the safety of the kingdom, but now, holding her, he could not go further until he admitted it to her.
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“Rowena, I need to confess something.”
She looked up at him.
“I used you as bait to find your attacker, but not because you were attacked. Not completely, anyway, but rather, ’twas part of an order from the king.”
“What order?”
“I was to find any rebels who might plot against the king. I was to arrest them and take them to London to be questioned and punished. King William cannot put whole platoons in each village, for his men fight the Welsh and up north. So he must use people like me to remove any threat to his sovereignty. I guessed that whoever would hurt you would also rebel against the king, and that is the real reason I used you as bait. For that, I am sorry. ’Twas wrong of me.”
Rowena was silent for a moment. “Why are you telling me this now?”
“Because I trust you. I didn’t completely before, and we both know you can’t demand another’s faith when you don’t trust people yourself. Do you forgive me?”
As he looked down at her, her expression changed. “If you trust me with this, Stephen, then will you trust me with something else?”
“What is that?”
“To know fully in your heart that you are not to blame for your brother’s death. I have watched you and heard what is said about how you feel about it. But ’tisn’t true, Stephen. Corvin was killed in battle. Don’t believe anyone who says ’twas your fault. Can you trust me with that truth?”
Blinking and tightening his jaw, Stephen urged the horse forward. They rode for some time, with him mulling over Rowena’s words.
In a moment back at the campsite, he realized, his attention on fighting the cook, he hadn’t seen Hundar prepare to attack him. Rowena saved his life.
He could have died, and then where would Rowena be?
He’d been looking in another direction that day at Hastings. Corvin had also been fighting while Stephen’s attention was diverted by that one Saxon. ’Twas a tragic accident.
“I know I am not to blame for Corvin’s death.” The words slipped from his lips before he could stop them. But they were true.
Rowena did not look up. Shouldn’t she say something? All she offered him was a small sniffle and a tightened grip. And what did she mean by her soft crying? He hated being so unsure.
Sheltered by the Warrior (Viking Warriors Book 3) (Historical Romance) Page 21