Knight of Runes

by Ruth A. Casie

  “As you say. But we thought Bran was not a threat either and here we have his sign. Not even hidden, but blatantly on every man’s wrist. He must feel confident. Well, we will see about that. Think on it. And, Doward, if you find anything more about the woman, tell me at once.” He turned back to his men, pointing to the wrist of one of the attackers. “Beware of this sign. If you see it, report it to me. Logan, when we return, gather the captains so we can discuss this with them.”

  They packed up ready to cross the river. “Doward, we put some of the planking back but not all. We will pull the wagon across the bridge with ropes. You’ll go with Logan. The woman will cross with me. I’ll guide your horse across.”

  Down at the water’s edge the river ran swiftly over the rocks, creating rapids. No one wanted to get caught in the current. The men unhitched Shade, secured a rope to each side of the wagon and pulled it across the damaged bridge. Logan, with Doward sitting behind him, crossed the river without any incident. Rebeka watched his safe landing from the shore.

  It was her turn. Arik walked his horse over and easily lifted her up, sitting her on his lap. The moment he touched her she felt a jolt surge through her body. The touch lingered. His hand was strong, calloused and yet soft.

  “Hold on to me. The current is strong.”

  Another command. She felt the bunched muscles of his arms around her and felt protected. His waist was trim and his body firm. The wound on her thigh had opened during the fracas and now throbbed. The pain unsettled her stomach. The last thing she wanted to do was get sick while sitting on his lap. But the sensation of his touch sent butterflies loose in her stomach, making her even more queasy, if that was possible. If Arik noticed her discomfort, he said nothing.

  The current was indeed swift but Arik managed it well. He was an excellent horseman, speaking soothing words to the animal. What a strange combination this domineering gentleness.

  “The shore is not far now,” he whispered. His breath sent a warmth racing through her.

  She stifled the soft moan that came to her lips. Was he talking to the horse or me? She closed her eyes and allowed herself to lean against him and take his strength if only for a few minutes.

  His hand brushed her thigh and sent fresh shards of pain flashing through her. She straightened and took deep breaths of air, concentrating on keeping her seat.

  “Easy,” he told her. “We’re almost there.”

  The last bit of adrenaline spent, Rebeka allowed herself to relax into Arik, his breath hot on her neck. She hadn’t expected it to feel so sensual. She stretched her neck, giving him her ear and heard his soft chuckle. Had she just silently told him she wanted more? Did he understand? She didn’t care.

  Once on the other side of the river, Arik took her to the wagon. He set her down gently, his touch lingering longer than necessary. When he finally let her go, she felt disappointed at the loss of his warmth. Nerves, she thought to herself. That was all it was.

  “We’ll ride hard. I want to get as much distance between us and those attackers as quickly as possible,” Arik told them, urging his horse into a gallop.

  Rebeka held tightly to the seat as they sped down the trail, her thoughts going as fast as the wagon as she tried to make some sense of it all. Wake up, Rebeka. Think! This can’t be real. I can’t be in a different time. It’s impossible. The wagon hit every raised tree root on the trail. The bouncing jarred her but her thoughts never wavered. And if I am—the thought hit her like a lead balloon—how do I get back?

  They rode through the forest for some time. It was a punishing ride. Her hair loose and flying, the cloak streaming behind her, she and Doward raced down the path at breakneck speed. Spent from the fight and her confrontation with Arik, Rebeka fought exhaustion. If she was in a different time—and she was beginning to think it must be true—she knew this period better than most, knew how things were resolved in this time. This was all about surviving. Rebeka was good at that, too.

  Mounted men appeared on the rise in front of them. Rebeka tensed. There appeared to be hundreds, but when she looked at Arik, he didn’t look concerned. Surely, he saw the threat. “When we reach the rise we will be on Arik’s land. His men have come out to meet their lord.” Doward spoke beside her.

  She took a deep breath and nodded, relieved.

  “We’ll stop for Arik to take back command. Afterwards we’ll move on to the Manor.”

  They crossed the boundary on to Arik’s holding. The men on the rise waited in a double line. They sat at attention, silent and alert as their lord and his party passed through.

  Arik reached the end of the line and turned to face the battalions in front of him. A man—captain of the guard judging by the braid on his uniform and jeweled dirk in his belt—came forward, saluting smartly before reaching out a hand to his lord. “Sir, your men welcome you home.” Arik raised a hand in greeting and the men erupted in a warm hearty cheer.

  Rebeka stood with Doward by the wagon and watched the men pay homage to their chief. She knew the value of rituals and especially the homecoming ceremony. It was a discussion topic on leadership techniques in her course.

  He sat on his horse, a beacon for his men to see. His face was stern but she saw the twinkle in his eyes and recognized passion and camaraderie. He truly loved these men.

  After the formal greeting, Arik told his troops to stand down. “No one is to go far. Once the horses have rested, I want to move on to the Manor.”

  The wind stirred the trees, forcing the leaves to turn up exposing their underside. The rain would start soon. The raid and incident with Arik pressed on Rebeka’s mind. She pulled the cloak tighter and set off to speak to Doward.

  “Don’t say anything.” He put up a hand as she got close. “I was able to soothe Arik and the men. I assured them you were suffering from your fall down the mountain. All decided to accept the explanation. You are fortunate.”

  “Yes, I know and I thank you for intervening on my behalf. But, Doward…”

  “I understand, Rebeka. Where you come from your actions and attitudes are acceptable. You must realize here they’re not. You have to accommodate.”

  She was annoyed with his expectation of how she, or any woman for that matter, should behave. “I am who I am. I can’t be anyone other than me.”

  “Hear me, m’lady. If you want to get back to where you belong, you need Arik’s cooperation. Being at odds with him will not get you what you want. It could get you killed. Again I tell you, you must accommodate.”

  Exasperated, she knew he was right. She changed the subject. “Doward, you said you know something about the symbol I identified on the men who attacked us. At first I thought it was a T but I think it’s an Ogham symbol. What does it mean to you?”

  “You know this symbol?” Doward inhaled deeply.

  “Ogham is a system of writing using horizontal and slanting strokes to represent letters and is usually cut into stone or wood.”

  Doward gave her a blank stare. She thought he had difficulty grasping the concept.

  “You can see the symbols on graves and boundary markers. They’re on the signpost in the meadow. Druids used these symbols to record tales, histories and the like.” She looked at his face. Comprehension began to dawn. “Each symbol relates to a tree. If I’m correct, this is the symbol H for the hawthorn tree. Do you have any idea why it would be branded on to the men’s wrists?”

  “It’s difficult to explain. It’s a symbol used by Bran.” Doward frowned and shifted from one foot to the other. His obvious discomfort surprised her.

  “Who’s Bran?” A chill spread through her.

  “Bran and Arik trained together as young men.” He didn’t offer anything more. “These attacks have been happening for some time. I thought them only to be desperate villagers. But now with this mark I see they are desperate villagers with trained mercenaries behind them. You were right. The strategy was professional while the attack was amateur. I must get ready to leave. Stay here while I ready Sha
de.”

  Rebeka sat on the ground, her staff across her lap. She concentrated on her breathing, calming it, controlling it. The ebb and flow of the world around her became peaceful and rejuvenating, her strength returned. Her eyes closed, she heard George’s voice.

  “I made arrangements for the books to be delivered to you tomorrow.”

  She frowned at the errant thought and dismissed it. But there was something else at the edge, an image she couldn’t quite make out. Before it came into focus it fell into itself and dispersed in a cloud.

  “The wagon is ready,” Doward said beside her. “Before we reach the Manor, I must take you into my confidence.” She opened her eyes and gave him her full attention. “I have watched you face things any man, let alone a woman, would have found devastating yet you take on the challenge head on. You are an exceptional woman, stubborn and smart.”

  “Is that a bad thing? Being smart?”

  He spoke with quiet emphasis. “Few know the ancient symbols and how the Druids used them. But I need to know, from where and what time do you come?”

  “What an odd question.”

  Measuring her answer, she hesitated as he stared at the ground. Did he have the same suspicion? Dare she trust him? “The last memory I have I was in England, standing at the Avebury stones.” She paused for a moment then answered quickly over her rapidly beating heart. “It was May 1, 2011.”

  She watched his head pop up and his eyes fly to her face. “Rebeka,” he began, but she interrupted.

  “Doward, I must tell you everything.” The words flooded out as if from a breached dam. More than anything, she wanted confirmation. “I was sent to do research. I decided to go look at the standing stones in Avebury. I walked between The Cove stones and something happened. Everything went black. I couldn’t see and I was pinned to the spot. It was like being in the center of a whirling funnel of clouds. When I finally was able to move, the earth seemed to melt away beneath my feet and I began to fall and tumble. The next thing I knew, I landed on the trail almost where you found me. And, Doward, I have evidence. Here, look at these…” She took out her camera to show Doward pictures of the oak and the marker. He drew back startled, then reached out a tentative hand towards the camera.

  “May I?”

  She watched him as he studied the evidence she presented. “Remarkable,” he whispered softly to himself as he flipped through the pictures. He smiled at Rebeka. “Truly remarkable.” He handed the camera back to her reluctantly. “It is what I suspected also. We must figure out how to get you back. No one must know where you are from. There is much superstition here and I am concerned for your safety. Until we can figure out how to send you back, you must try to fit in, not stand out. This must be our secret. Now, we need to prepare how you arrived here and we must both be accurate in our telling. Do you understand? Your life depends on it.”

  “Yes, I’ll do my best. I can’t stay here. It could affect the future.” Secrets. The whispered word echoed in her mind. It grew more intense, more urgent. With a burst of understanding, she remembered how her solicitor, George Hughes, told her the old books to be delivered to her contained secrets. The thought planted itself firmly in her mind. “If my suspicions are correct, I may find the answer in the library at the Manor.”

  “What makes you so certain?”

  “Some of them I’ve seen briefly before. It’s only a hunch but it’s the only place I can think to start.”

  “You have seen some of them before?”

  “Yes, Doward, before I stepped through the stones I visited Fayne Manor. I looked at the documents in the library—I was to research them.” She didn’t mention the family tie. She wasn’t certain about the relationship and until she was, she didn’t want to mention it.

  “Get ready to leave. I need to speak to Arik. I’ll let him know you’re a scribe from London and need use of the Manor library in search of information regarding the land.”

  She nodded, hesitating. “What…what year is it?”

  “Today is the second day of May. In the year 1605.”

  He moved his head close to her and held her eyes with his. “You’re in the right place but the wrong time. To set things straight, you must go back. Perhaps your being here is the reason for the strange lightning and weather, although I’m not certain. My abilities are limited.”

  “Doward, I agree with you. I can’t stay here. Who knows what would happen. I must go back. Do you know how to get me back?” She hoped he had the answer.

  “No, I don’t.” He patted her hand, a reassuring smile on his face. “Stay here while I speak to Arik.”

  “She’s in my care. Of course I’ll protect her.” Arik stiffened at the request from Doward.

  “Don’t take insult. I meant none. I want only to stress the importance.”

  Arik eased. “No insult taken. I understand your concern. But, Doward, she can take care of herself.”

  “Yes, but there is something else. Arik, she may be able to help us find the information we need about the land.”

  “Doward, I am not a simpleton. She’s out of place here, her speech and her attitude all speak of it. Tell me what you suspect.”

  “She’s a scholar from London, an excellent scribe and document translator. News of the problems with the land appears to have traveled far. She feels the answers may be in the writings in your library. She has come to investigate.”

  Arik stood thoughtfully. “So the king has sent her.” He sounded relieved. “Sir Stuart and I petitioned him months ago for assistance. But he sent us a woman?” He shrugged. “Do you think she can help?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I’ll bring her to the Manor, keep her safe there and give her access to the library. You needn’t worry.”

  “Good, many thanks, friend. Then I’ll make ready to leave.”

  Arik watched Doward walk away. There is something more going on here. I can feel it deep inside. He glanced at Rebeka as she stood by the wagon, seeing past the bruising to the curve of her profile, the sleek look of her body. She was self-assured and had an almost regal manner in the way she carried herself. I wonder how she looks without all those bruises. Her reaction when she sat on my lap. I could swear I heard her moan. A mental picture of her relaxing into him came to mind. He ventured she didn’t realize her eyes were closed, nor the look of ecstasy on her face. The mere thought sent tendrils of heat through him. He smiled. That was a different conquest and for a different time. He mounted Spirit and rode over to the wagon.

  “Mount up!” His men got into formation. With Arik, Marcus and Logan at the lead, the wagon took its place in line. Arik turned to the assembly. “To hearth and home,” Arik declared and the men started forward.

  Behind him, he heard a gasp and turned to look. Rebeka stared back at him, a shocked expression on her face.

  Chapter Eight

  Big plump raindrops sprinkled down, splattering when they landed with a loud plopping sound. They pelted the riders, growing in intensity until the skies opened, and the rain came down in large blinding sheets. Rebeka was cold and uncomfortable but she’d been in rainstorms before. This one was no different. She winced with each bounce of the wagon as it sped along. The gash on her thigh throbbed and felt warm. Fighting the river crossing and now this bouncing only aggravated it. Her wound needed some attention but there was nothing she could do now. She ignored the pain.

  “Does he always drive his men this hard?” She held on to the wagon frame.

  “His men are not complaining. They would follow him anywhere.” Doward looked at her, his brows wrinkled. “No one would question him. He leads his men with respect and devotion. It is what he seeks back from them. Watch as he rides the column to see and be seen. Each feels a personal connection. It is his strength.”

  Rebeka watched Arik charge up the line, encouraging his men. His muscled body, penetrating stare, his strong yet graceful movements all spoke of command and control. The men called out to him as he passed. He acknowledged them with a raised fi
st.

  “We are close now,” said Doward. “We’ll turn onto the Manor drive up ahead.”

  The closeness to home seemed to spur the men on. Everyone hunkered down and picked up the pace even more to get out of the weather.

  They came through the line of oaks and onto the rise. Arik stood sentinel as the men raced on. The wind picked up, whipping the rain into stinging darts attacking them and as the temperature dropped, lightning streaked across the sky, and rolls of thunder rumbled in the distance. The wagon was the last to pass. Arik pulled up behind it and rode for home.

  They arrived well into the evening. They crossed into the Manor courtyard and the guards closed the gates for the night. Logan and the soldiers vanished, presumably to the barracks, Rebeka surmised. Arik and the wagon stopped in the front courtyard. He went inside with Doward. Rebeka, trying not to limp, followed behind and found herself in the Great Hall.

  “Jeannie,” Arik called. A woman, probably a housekeeper, came out and gave a low curtsy. “Some warm ale.”

  “Arik, the men are all here.” Logan entered the hall, the captains behind him.

  “What news do you have?”

  “Lord Arik, other than some routine items it has been quiet. The only excitement was Alfred’s boy, Luke. He made some mischief but he has been reprimanded.” The rest of his men reported. Arik listened patiently, satisfied all was well.

  Jeannie brought in the ale and stood ready to replenish the tankards.

  It was Arik’s turn. “We were attacked at the Stone, near the log bridge. A mark branded the wrists of all the attackers.”

  Standing at the other end of the large hearth to dry out and get warm, a feverish Rebeka stood gazing at the room, trying to keep it in focus. At the mention of the attack, she listened carefully. Caught up in Arik’s account she came forward. “Yes,” she blurted out, “I thought at first it was a T but the more I think about it the more I think it was an H branded on the inside right wrist of each attacker.” Doward went to say something but she continued. “As I told Arik, the men used a good strategy in separating us but they were not skilled fighters. They were rather uncommitted to the fight.” As she spoke, she looked from man to man, her eyes finally resting on Arik. The men seemed uneasy. Arik, on the other hand, looked uninterested. He said nothing, but when she finished speaking, came toward her.