Kathryn watched as the late-morning rays of sunlight shone through the leaves of passing trees, dappling the ground with uneven light. The air began to warm as the sun rose higher.
Fergus reined in his mount until Kathryn’s horse drew abreast of him. With Bryan engaged in training his men, she and Fergus and three men loyal to her had been able to convince the guard on duty that she had Bryan’s permission to leave. They’d slipped out the main gate and headed for St. Mary’s.
But Fergus had been on edge from the moment they left the castle walls behind. He’d expressed grave misgivings about this boon Kathryn had wheedled from him, had at first refused when she suggested the trip to visit Isobel. Finally he’d agreed but insisted that they take additional men for protection.
Kathryn smiled at him. “Thank you for making this trip today.”
“Aye, well, keep the visit short so that we are safely behind Homelea’s walls before Sir Bryan realizes we’ve left.”
Kathryn laid a hand on his sleeve. “We are on our own lands; we have additional men for protection. Surely you are overly cautious.”
“Perhaps I am, but your safety is my concern. God help me if I fail and the earl finds out about this.”
She pulled her hand back. This was the first time anyone had referred to the Black Knight as earl, and it stunned her. Her father had been the earl for all of her life and it felt somehow disloyal to call someone else by the name. “Really, Fergus, you act as if Sir Bryan truly cared about me.”
“You are his wife. Of course he cares.”
“Aye, he cares for what belongs to him, like his stallion and his chain mail. I don’t flatter myself in thinking I rank higher than his horse.”
Fergus’s voice took on an edge she’d never heard before. “You do your husband injustice with your words, my lady. Come, let us move out faster.” Had Fergus become an admirer of the knight? He signaled the others and all urged their horses into a brisk trot.
Kathryn prodded her horse to a faster pace, the other riders following close behind. Soon the road narrowed and paralleled the river as it led through the woods to the abbey, then edged it, perilously close. Her horse’s ears lay flattened to its head and she felt its apprehension. She shouted to get Fergus’s attention, but the rushing water made it difficult to be heard, and her shouts went unanswered.
Fergus’s horse disappeared as the road curved sharply to the left behind a large boulder on the river’s edge. Kathryn heard a strangled cry and drove her mare forward. As she approached the giant rock, a horse appeared from the trees on Kathryn’s right and the rider grabbed at her bridle. She quickly turned her frightened animal’s head and the stranger missed.
But on every side, men shouted and startled horses whinnied. Her guardians’ defense was scattered at best. She searched frantically for Fergus, while struggling to regain control of her frightened horse.
“Fergus!” she shouted. “Fergus, where are you?”
Kathryn’s mount threw back its head as someone snatched the reins. Kathryn held on, only to realize the bandit was leading her away.
Where is Fergus? She searched frantically as she disengaged her foot from the stirrup to dismount. The man yanked the reins from her hand and pulled them over the horse’s head. Then, as her horse leaped to the side to follow where it was led, she saw Fergus’s unconscious form lying in a heap by the boulder. She wanted desperately to get to Fergus and help him, but dared not jump from the horse for fear of being trampled.
“Let me go!” A low-hanging branch stung her face and tore her veil. A fingernail was ripped to the quick as she tried to wrest the reins back to no avail. Finally, the bandit stopped his horse long enough to pull her onto his own horse, rip her veil in half and use it to bind her hands and gag her. Kathryn struggled until a long, sharp knife nicked at her throat. Defeated for the moment, Kathryn remained still. Hands and mouth secure, her kidnappers returned her to her mount and headed out again.
The horses broke into a canter. She sat the horse the best she could, clinging with her hands bound in front of her. The English accents of her captors left no doubt where they were headed.
BRYAN HALTED THE TRAINING AT MIDDAY to find the castle in an uproar—Kathryn was nowhere to be found. He ordered the grounds to be thoroughly searched and wasn’t surprised when someone discovered that horses were missing. He’d underestimated her determination to go to the abbey; no doubt that was where he’d find her. He’d fetch her back himself.
Bryan saddled Cerin and had just mounted the horse when a horse and rider raced into the bailey. The rider, one of Kathryn’s men, threw himself off his barely checked animal and ran to where Bryan sat his horse.
“My laird, we were ambushed and the lady seized by English reivers.”
Bryan pounded the saddle so hard Cerin tossed his head. How was he to protect the woman if she disobeyed him? “Ambushed?
Where? Never mind, explain while we ride.” Fearing the worst, Bryan ordered his troops to prepare for a three-day absence.
While they packed food and shelter, he gave orders to Adam.
“Secure the castle after I leave, and open it to no one but me.
Understood?”
“Aye, my laird.”
“Good. Who knows what other mischief is afoot.”
“Take care, brother.” He put his hand on Bryan’s knee. “And bring the lady home.”
Bryan turned Cerin and followed the messenger out of Homelea’s gates, shouting questions and not liking the answers.
When they reached the ambush site, one man was attempting to round up the scattered horses. Another was bent over a figure propped against a giant boulder. Bryan spoke to his squire.
“Thomas, see if you can find any tracks.”
“Aye, my laird.” Taking several men with him, Thomas began a search of the area for the tracks of the marauders.
Bryan dismounted and walked over to Fergus, who appeared to be disoriented from a bloody wound at his temple. Bryan wanted answers. No, he wanted to throttle Fergus, then Kathryn, for leaving the safety of Homelea.
Fergus glanced upward and cringed. “My laird, she is taken.” His shoulders slumped, and Bryan feared the man would pass out. But Fergus rallied to face him once more.
“Tell me what happened,” Bryan demanded.
“Lady Kathryn wished to visit St. Mary’s. To visit an aging nun as she is accustomed to doing each week. I saw no harm.”
Something in the way the man bowed his head made Bryan suspect there was more to the story, but he was more interested in what had happened to Kathryn.
“We were ambushed. They wore no insignia, Sir Bryan. All I can tell you is that the accents were English. I must have struck the rock and by the time I came to my senses, they were gone,” he explained, holding his head as he raised his gaze.
“Who knew of your plans?”
“Only Kathryn and I.”
“Why the devil did you give in to her? Had you completely lost your senses before you hit the rock? Was Kathryn hurt? So help me, if any harm comes to her, Fergus—”
“Kathryn.” Fergus’s voice caught and he bowed his head. “I believe she was trying to warn me when the ambush struck. I’m sorry, my laird. I’m terribly sorry.”
Bryan clenched his fists to keep from striking out with them or his temper. “Lot of good that will do.”
Those words hung between the two men for several minutes.
The return of Thomas and his trackers broke the silence. “It appears they rode their horses into the river. We found where they entered, but not where they left. The stream can be ridden for a good mile or more before they must leave it.”
Bryan didn’t answer, so his squire continued. “We found this on yon wee bush.”
He handed Bryan a scrap of material from a lady’s veil. Bryan took the fluttering material from the man, noting the large tear and speck of fresh blood at one end. Whose blood was this?
Kathryn. I have failed to protect you, just as I feared. Hadn’t he known
he couldn’t keep her safe? He’d tried to tell his father that he didn’t want such responsibility. And now here he stood exactly where Bruce had—someone had captured Bryan’s wife. He found it difficult to control his voice. “Can you track them?”
Thomas nodded. “Aye. ’Twill be difficult and slow once they reach the road.”
Bryan ranted in frustration until the worst of his temper passed. His tantrum didn’t change the situation, but at least he could look at Fergus without strangling him.
“Take your men and go home, Fergus.”
“Nay, my laird. I will help you find Lady Kathryn.”
Bryan doubted that time spent on a horse would improve the man’s headache, but he grudgingly admired him for his insistence on helping.
They spent the next two hours combing the banks of the stream for the trail of Kathryn’s abductors. Once they discovered where they exited the water, Thomas easily tracked the group for several more miles before the tracks joined others on the rough road leading south to England. Now it became nearly impossible to determine which tracks were which.
Evening set in; weary and frustrated, Bryan refused to stop even to eat. As darkness enveloped them, Thomas rode up beside him. “We need to call a halt for the night.”
Bryan kept his eyes on the ground, ignoring him.
Thomas muttered under his breath, and Bryan finally reined in Cerin. “You’re right, Thomas. No sense risking the horses in the dark. I’m not so daft and stubborn that I can’t heed good advice when it’s given.”
Looking somewhat abashed to know that Bryan had heard him, Thomas nodded.
“But no campfires. We don’t want to give ourselves away.”
“Aye. No need to chance it.”
After a cold supper Bryan and his companions wrapped their plaids about them and settled in for a few hours of sleep.
But sleep wouldn’t come for Bryan. Too many unanswered questions plagued him. They had not parted on good terms. He’d dismissed Kathryn’s desire to go to the abbey as unimportant, even though she’d tried to tell him how serious she was about going. Did Kathryn know her abductors—had she contrived to visit the abbey in order to flee a marriage she didn’t want? But if that were the case, why had she bothered to seek his permission?
KATHRYN CRIED OUT AGAINST THE GAG as her horse slipped down the stream bank, causing her leg to jam into the pommel once again. With a lunge that threw Kathryn backward, the beast surged through the water, climbed the opposite bank and found solid footing.
They made their way to a small clearing within a copse of pines and halted. No one dismounted.
After several minutes they were joined by another man, who reported, “They are following but slowly. Shall we stop here, Simon, or move on?”
The man called Simon answered, “We’ll return to the road and put some distance behind us before resting the beasts.”
They urged their horses through the dense undergrowth, eventually coming out on the road that led north to Homelea. They turned south and headed at a canter for the English border, fifteen miles away.
Mercifully, the horses could not keep up such a pace and soon slowed to a walk again. By now Kathryn’s legs were chafed and each jolt of the horse sent twinges of pain from her full bladder. Unwillingly, she cried out when the horse stumbled on a rock and the man she now thought of as her jailer led the group into the trees at the side of the road and called a halt.
It was growing dark and there would be no moon tonight. Simon dismounted and told the others to do the same. He turned and lifted Kathryn off the horse and set her none too gently on the ground. To her relief, her legs didn’t buckle.
Her jailer untied her hands. “Leave the gag in place, my lady. None of us are interested in your opinions, and I know well enough what your problem is. We could all use some relief.”
The men fanned out into a circle a discreet distance away and turned their backs to her, as much for their own privacy as hers. Grateful for their consideration, she took care of her needs. Before she stood up, she quietly ripped a piece of material from the hem of her chemise and laid it within a nearby bush.
She stood and moved away from the spot, praying the men would not see the telltale scrap of fabric in the darkness, but that Bryan somehow would notice it.
But her act of defiance did not go unnoticed. One of the men brought Simon the strip of cloth. Shaking his head as if disgusted with her, Simon bound her hands again before lifting her into the saddle.
“Mount up,” Simon ordered his men. “We’ve still an hour or more to the border.”
They’d been riding for nearly three hours, and Kathryn’s skin chafed where her skirt bunched under her knees. The time dragged by. Finally they came to Norham Castle. Someone must have been expecting them, for they gained entrance quickly. Once inside the other men scattered to obey Simon’s crisply given orders.
He removed the gag.
“Whose prisoner am I?” she asked, her mouth dry.
“Mine for now.”
Pins and needles shot through her feet and legs from the hours astride as Kathryn moved about, returning blood to her limbs. She stumbled but regained her balance as Simon pushed her before him, indicating she was to enter the keep.
A young woman, perhaps a few years older than Kathryn, awaited them at the door. She spoke with Simon and though Kathryn strained to hear, they kept their conversation private. Who had planned this kidnapping? She suspected her captors were someone else’s henchmen. But it couldn’t be . . . he certainly wouldn’t . . .
The room she was led to was clean and modestly furnished, and the bed looked most inviting after the long, uncomfortable ride. The woman would not make eye contact. “My name is Peggy. If ye have need of anything, let me know.” Peggy hurried out, closing the door behind her. Kathryn heard scratching and bumping outside the door and concluded Simon or one of his men would sleep there. Glancing about the room, she noticed the only window in her room—high, narrow, and shuttered tightly.
Somehow she must discover a means to escape. But sleep would have to come first. Wearily Kathryn crawled into the bed, and slept fitfully.
BRYAN’S MOOD HAD NOT IMPROVED by dawn. The lack of sleep and nagging questions compounded his frustration at Kathryn’s disappearance. He nearly saddled up to ride on alone until reason prevailed.
As the dawn became daylight, they ate a cold breakfast. Bryan glared at Fergus, who kept his head down, not meeting Bryan’s gaze. A huge bruise purpled the left side of Fergus’s face, and a blood-tinged bandage covered what Bryan suspected was a painful gash just above his ear.
But as bad as the injury must feel this morning, Fergus would be far more pained by Kathryn’s abduction. The man was loyal to her first and above all others. Bryan felt a moment’s remorse for his harsh words the night before. Knowing he must make the first move to heal the rift, he asked gruffly, “From the looks of your face, I wonder how your head feels this morning.”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
Fergus wouldn’t look at him. “Do you think they’re headed for Norham?”
“’Tis most likely. It’s close.”
“Then Edward must have taken her.” Fergus looked up, finally.
“Or Carleton.” Bryan could feel his own agitation rising.
Fergus winced, as if the thought pained him, too.
“If you had obeyed my orders . . .” Bryan slammed his fist into his palm. “You placed her in danger. How could you be so careless?”
“Are you worried about her, or is it that you don’t want Rodney to have her?” Fergus shot back.
“How dare you say that? She is my wife—of course I care about her.”
“As much as you care for your horse?”
Annoyed and puzzled, he roared, “What does my horse have to do with this?”
“Kathryn believes she is lower in your esteem than Cerin.”
“You go too far, Fergus.” He lowered his voice, and the menace
was clear. “She is my wife. I vowed to protect her and I have failed. Because of your carelessness.”
Thomas walked over and took a seat between them. Bryan suspected the younger man feared he and Fergus would come to blows. And well they might before this was over.
Bryan heaved a sigh. “No sense sitting here blaming ourselves. Let’s mount up.”
They broke camp and followed the tracks south until they reached a clearing within sight of Norham. Thomas scouted ahead while the rest of them dismounted and waited in the cover of the trees.
He returned shortly. “The tracks lead straight to Norham.”
“If ’tis Carleton, I swear I’ll kill him if he so much as touches her.”
“Will we mount a rescue?” Fergus asked.
Bryan paced. Had Kathryn gone willingly? He didn’t want to believe it but he couldn’t be sure. Mayhap she’d played him for a fool, seeking permission to go to St. Mary’s then acting resigned to his refusal in order to defray suspicion. He stood in front of Fergus and Thomas. “Are we in agreement that no matter who holds her, it is most likely at Carleton’s order and that Kathryn is in danger?”
The others nodded.
“Do we also agree that Kathryn wants to be rescued?”
“What are you implying?” Fergus growled.
In a calmer voice Thomas asked, “What reason do ye have to question yer lady’s loyalty?”
Bryan shot a glance at Kathryn’s friend, but Fergus’s expression was unreadable. If he knew anything about the intricacies of Bryan’s relationship with Kathryn, he was not going to share it.
Returning his glance to Thomas, he answered the man’s question. “Kathryn and I have been married but a short while, and I don’t know her feelings about many things. I do know that she didn’t want to marry and she has continued to . . . she does not seem reconciled to the marriage. When last we met, I was less than a patient, loving husband.”
Thomas nodded.
Bryan continued. “I have no way of knowing Kathryn’s true desire in this matter of marriage.” Again Bryan glanced at Fergus. Fergus met his gaze and didn’t back down, even as Bryan said, “She does not confide in me. Perhaps her affection lies elsewhere.”
The Price of Freedom Page 14