Secret Heart

by Speer, Flora

  Having dispatched anyone who could hinder his clever scheme of escape, Walderon would ride through the pass alone, carrying his bags of jewelry and coins and with two spare horses to sell or to keep. He probably knew of a way to cross the river, despite the ruined bridge. If not, he could head upstream along the riverbank until he reached Lake Nalo and his own land, from where passage into the Dominion would be easy over the northern bridge he had ordered repaired.

  Walderon’s plan was clear to Jenia, as was her course of action. She had to convince Mott that she was correct about her uncle’s intentions. And she must not use her small degree of Power against Walderon’s greater strength until she had no alternatives left.

  Chapter 22

  Before Roarke and the others could set out to find Jenia and Sanal, Garit’s squire, Anders, appeared from the bailey with one of the men-at-arms in tow.

  “Sir Roarke,” Anders said, “I may have some useful information. I’ve been asking the men who’ve been on guard duty whether they noticed anything unusual. This fellow has something to tell.”

  “Speak, man,” Roarke ordered the sentry.

  “A few moments before my watch was to end,” the sentry said, “I noticed several people crossing the moat by the hidden stepping stones.”

  “Did you, now?” Roarke regarded the sentry with great interest.

  “Aye, and what’s more, someone met them on the other side,” the sentry continued. “I saw at least two horses. There seemed to be some confusion before they left. It’s been a dark night out there, with clouds and only occasional moonlight, so I can’t be sure exactly how many people I saw. I called down an alarm to the men in the bailey and Anders heard what I said. He told me to come and speak to you at once. But just before I left my post, I looked toward the same place again and I couldn’t see any movement at all. So, I may have been mistaken about the whole incident.”

  “No,” Roarke assured him, “you were not mistaken. I’ll go up to the battlements with you right now. I want you to show me exactly where you were standing and which way you were looking when you noticed the disruption below.”

  “Yes, I see,” the sentry said. “That will give you a fair idea where to begin searching for those people.”

  The direction proved to be northeastward, and Roarke returned to the great hall with some hope of finding Jenia quickly, before Walderon could do her serious harm. Within half an hour he, Lord Giles, and their company were riding that way. Once daylight appeared they found some fresh horse droppings and a few broken branches, but no sign of the fugitives.

  As the autumn morning lengthened toward midday and Roarke was on the verge of despair for Jenia’s safety, they met a troop of horsemen, about twenty in number, who were heading for Thury. Roarke recognized the colorful but now bedraggled clothing of Walderon’s company that had gathered in the meadow on the previous day. At his quiet command the men with him blocked the track so the oncoming horsemen were forced to halt.

  Lord Giles sat mounted beside Roarke, waiting with his usual outward calm, though Roarke sensed an inner tension on the older man’s part.

  “Are you Walderon’s men?” Roarke demanded of the fellow who appeared to be the leader.

  “We were,” the leader said, “until our lord directed us to ride west.”

  “Are you saying you disobeyed him?” Roarke asked in some surprise. Seldom did simple men-at-arms dare to defy the master to whom they had sworn their services.

  “Aye,” came the ready answer. “We talked it over among ourselves and agreed that Walderon has deserted us, which no honest lord would ever do to his people. We belong to Thury, so we are returning there. We’ve no place else to go.”

  “What is your name?” Roarke asked, impressed in spite of himself with the rough dignity of the men who faced him.

  “I’m Hal, sir, and I swear to you, we have no stomach for a fight.” As if to prove his point, Hal spread wide his weaponless hands. “You see in us a band of weary men. We’ve been riding for five days now, first toward Calean in a grand cavalcade, then back to Thury at top speed, only to spend a day in the woods waiting for Lord Walderon to return from the castle. And now we’ve spent the better part of a night and another day in the saddle since Walderon escaped from Thury. You must be looking for the women. Lady Jenia told me to find you,” Hal ended with a shrewd glance at Roarke.

  “Are the ladies safe?” Lord Giles asked.

  “The last time I saw them, Walderon had his wife mounted with him and Lady Jenia was on a horse by herself. Sir Roarke, she told me that Walderon caused Lady Chantal’s death.”

  “He did.” Roarke sensed that Jenia had meant that last detail as a message to him by Hal, so he’d know he was on the right track to find her. “Do you know which way Walderon was planning to travel after you left him?”

  “When you come to the fork in the road,” Hal said, “head east.”

  “And hope Walderon stayed on the same road,” Roarke said. Looking over the band of horsemen with Hal, he asked, “How many men does he have left?”

  “Eighteen, plus Burke and Mott,” said Hal. “And the two women, of course. My lords, will we be accepted back into Thury? Some of us have wives there, and a few of us have children.”

  “Return to Thury,” Roarke instructed. “Call up to the sentries and ask to speak to Lord Garit. Tell him that Sir Roarke said you could camp in the meadow until I return so long as you stay well away from the moat and the drawbridge. If you want to get word to your families that you are safe, Lord Garit will do that for you. But you are to make no attempt to storm the castle gates or to enter by any other way. Your futures, and the lives of your families, depend on your good behavior.”

  “You have my word on it, Sir Roarke, and my thanks,” Hal said. “We’ll do as you ordered.”

  “‘The lives of their families?’“ Lord Giles repeated as Walderon’s former men-at-arms rode on toward Thury. “Roarke, you have never in your life harmed a woman or a child, nor ordered any to be killed.”

  “Ah, but Hal doesn’t know that, does he?” Roarke asked with a quick smile. “He probably thinks we are the same kind of uncaring nobles as Walderon. He’ll see to it that his men do as I instructed.”

  “We must find the women,” Lord Giles said, his face grim. “I promised Sanal she would be safe from Walderon and then I failed to protect her. Poor woman, she cannot defend herself against him. She never could.”

  “I want Jenia safe just as much as you want to rescue Lady Sanal,” Roarke responded. “I swear to you, we’ll have both of them out of Walderon’s clutches before night falls.”

  They rode on, heading for the fork Hal had mentioned and then turning east. Occasionally, they discerned signs of horses having passed, so they knew they were on the right path. In mid afternoon they came upon another band of men who were heading north.

  “I know the leader,” Lord Giles said when the troop wheeled to face them. “He is Walderon’s primary henchman. But, where is Walderon?”

  “Perhaps the henchman will tell us,” Roarke suggested.

  “Don’t expect Burke to be as accommodating as Hal was,” Lord Giles warned. “From the look of those men, we are going to have to fight.”

  “Good,” Roarke replied. “I am in a mood to use my sword on someone.”

  Burke refused to discuss where Walderon might be. Furthermore, he would not allow Roarke and his company to pass. Roarke decided they had no choice but to fight, so fight they all did, in a brief but extremely fierce encounter. When it was over, one of Lord Giles’s squires and four men-at-arms were injured. On the other side, a dozen of Burke’s men were dead, with several more wounded.

  “Burke is dead, too, I see,” Lord Giles remarked as they counted up the casualties. “That’s too bad. We might have persuaded him to provide information about Walderon’s intentions.”

  “I consider your life more important than anything Burke could tell us,” Roarke said. “He was about to strike you from behind when I st
opped him. I do not regret his death.”

  “It was not a knightly blow on his part,” Lord Giles observed dryly, looking down at Burke’s still form. “Perhaps he would have lied to us. Roarke, I thank you for protecting my back.”

  “Let’s find out if any of the living know where Walderon has gone,” Roarke suggested.

  A short time later, after leaving half a dozen men-at-arms to bury the dead and stand guard over the wounded, Roarke and Lord Giles remounted and rode on, directed by one of the wounded men from Burke’s company, who was even more angry over Walderon’s desertion than Hal and his troop had been earlier.

  Toward sunset they found Walderon.

  “Two men, two women, and three horses,” Roarke said, lifting his right hand to signal their troop to halt. “Why didn’t Walderon keep a guard to protect himself?”

  “Perhaps because he couldn’t trust his men-at-arms,” Lord Giles suggested. “The men we’ve talked with have expressed a strong dislike for him.”

  They sat for a time, unnoticed as far as they could tell, watching the little party plod onward through a winding, narrow defile where the stony mountains pressed close on either side. A limp figure, presumably Sanal, was draped face down in front of Walderon. The sight elicited a soft curse from Lord Giles that made Roarke smile to himself, though he made no comment. He felt like uttering a far more powerful oath when he noticed Jenia’s plight.

  On the horse directly behind Walderon sat a burly man in leather armor who held the reins of the third horse. And on that horse rode Jenia, with her back straight and her chin high as if she was daring Walderon to break her spirit or defeat her. Even from such a distance, Roarke could see her hands were tied.

  His heart lifted with joy and relief that she was still alive, and then sank with apprehension at the difficulty he faced in extricating her from Walderon’s clutches without harm. There had to be a way. He’d have to move rapidly, and silently, too, until the very last instant. His mind began to worry over the problem like a dog with a bone too large for its mouth.

  “From the look of them, they are all exhausted, and the horses even more so,” Lord Giles remarked. “We could surround them, but Walderon is sure to use the women as hostages for his own escape. Never doubt that he will use his Power if he feels himself personally threatened, though I doubt he will expend himself if he sees a way to avoid it.”

  “We can’t let him escape,” Roarke insisted. “He must answer for his crimes. And we have to make certain Jenia and Lady Sanal aren’t hurt in the melee.”

  “We’ll need a trick, then, and I prefer that it not be a magical trick. Walderon would only respond with his own corrupt Power, and who knows what damage he would cause to the women?” Lord Giles raised his eyebrows and looked at Roarke. “As I recall, in the days when you were a squire, you were rather clever at devising tricky military maneuvers. I shall enjoy watching you turn one of those maneuvers into action.”

  “Oh, no, my friend,” Roarke said. “You won’t merely watch; you will participate. I’m going to need your help. “Before we left Thury, I took a close look at the map in the guardroom. Somewhere near us is a sort of side corridor, a loop that rejoins the pass farther on. I want you to lead half our men through that corridor quickly enough to head off Walderon and quietly enough that he won’t suspect what is happening.

  “Helping you will be my pleasure,” Lord Giles responded, his gaze returning to Lady Sanal’s unmoving form.

  As Walderon and his captives rode on, Jenia frequently looked around, hoping she’d see Roarke approaching. She prayed he would arrive soon, for darkness was about to fall and she did not want to face the night with Walderon and Mott. In addition, she was seriously worried about Sanal, who had sobbed loudly once too often and then fainted when Walderon struck her on the side of her head to silence her. Sanal hadn’t moved since Walderon had flung her head down across his horse, with her still-bound hands dangling along the horse’s flank.

  As the sun sank lower Jenia looked back the way they’d come and glimpsed a reflection on something beside the rough track they were following. It looked like the sun shining on metal. The path was bordered by a great many large rocks. An armed troop could easily hide among those rocks while waiting for the right time to attack.

  Heartened by the possibility, she turned her head toward Walderon and Mott. They were watching the road ahead while they spoke in low voices. They weren’t paying any attention to her, so she swung around in the saddle as far as she could without falling and searched again for the reflection.

  The brief glitter was gone, but she saw Roarke sitting on his dark stallion, with Elwin at his left shoulder. Though they were half hidden among the boulders and they did not move she could not mistake Roarke’s beloved figure.

  Across the distance between them his gaze met hers. Jenia thought he was trying to convey a message to her or, perhaps, instructions. What, she asked herself, would he need her to do to aid in the rescue he was undoubtedly planning? And how would she know when to act? As if he could sense her questions, Roarke pointed to a spot off to one side of the path. Jenia looked in that direction and saw a slight movement, a motion that flickered for an instant and then was gone. Walderon and Mott hadn’t noticed, for they continued their intense conversation, which seemed to be about what to do with the women.

  When Jenia looked at Roarke again she saw his hand rise and she understood. She had often seen him make the same gesture during their ride from Calean to Thury. His lifted hand meant for the men under his command to prepare to carry out an order. When Roarke’s hand came down he expected instant obedience.

  Jenia realized that he must have sent a group of his men on a circuitous route to a position at one side of Walderon’s party. Roarke planned to attack from two directions at once. She had only a moment in which to guess what he wanted her to do. She decided to create a diversion to confuse Walderon and Mott just as they were being attacked.

  Suddenly, Roarke’s hand slashed downward, his chainmail glove glittering in a shaft of golden sunlight. The immediate thunder of hoofbeats made Walderon wheel his horse around as he looked for the source of the noise.

  Jenia’s hands were too numb for her to use them, but she lifted her arms, finally dislodging the heavy bundle she carried, dumping it to the ground and startling her horse. At the same time she kicked her mount’s flanks hard. Using only her knees to guide the animal, Jenia began shrieking as loudly as she could while she rode straight into the side of Walderon’s horse. He shouted at Mott to stop her and Mott pulled hard on the reins he still held.

  Both men were paying attention only to her, which was what she wanted. But she had to be careful not to look around to see if the two parts of Roarke’s troop were converging on them. She needed to keep her enemies watching her for just a few moments longer.

  Risking her life to create the major diversion that would provide the time she knew Roarke needed to reach her, Jenia swung one leg over the horse’s back and tried to dismount. Mott hadn’t bothered to shorten the stirrups for her, so she had no way to slow her descent and she couldn’t hold on to the saddle. She landed hard on the ground, the impact knocking the breath out of her, but she was able to curl herself into a ball so she’d make a smaller target for the horses’ hooves, or for her uncle’s fury.

  As she tried to gather her wits she heard a shout and a long, drawn out scream that surely came from Sanal. The pounding noise of horse hooves became so loud that Jenia feared she’d be trampled, but she could not seem to catch her breath or move.

  A screech sounded over her head and Mott fell out of his saddle. He landed in a heap near Jenia and lay still.

  She became aware of a peculiar silence. A pair of booted feet appeared beside her head. She blinked, trying to think whose boots those were. They were made of simple brown leather, not a knight’s chainmail, nor Walderon’s elegant wine-red footwear. A youthful voice identified the wearer.

  “Walderon’s man-at-arms is more fortunate t
han he deserves, to die so easily,” said Elwin, reaching to help her sit up. “Lord Garit would have made his death slower and much more painful than a simple broken neck. My lady, can you stand unaided?”

  “Yes, I think so.” Jenia finally drew a breath. “Just let me hold on to you for a moment. I am a bit winded.”

  “I’m not surprised. Roarke insisted that you’d know to create a diversion. You were amazing. When you yelled and rode at Walderon, you sounded like an ancient warrior queen riding into battle.” Elwin grinned at her in boyish delight. “Just like the old stories my grandmother used to tell me. Did you yell again when Walderon’s man was about to slash you with his sword?”

  Jenia didn’t want to discuss what Mott had intended to do to her. “Where is Roarke?” she asked of the squire.

  “He told me to stay with you while he chases down Lord Walderon. He said he won’t be gone for very long.”

  “And Aunt Sanal?”

  “Lord Giles is with her.”

  “Where are they?”

  “Over there.” Elwin pointed to a spot where the narrow pass widened a little and a tall rock provided a bit of shelter. “I’ll escort you to them.”

  Lord Giles had cut the thongs binding Sanal’s wrists and he made short work of releasing Jenia’s hands, too. Before she could thank him, he went pale and staggered backward, stopping only when he reached the tall rock.

  “Giles!” Sanal screamed, stumbling toward him.

  “Sanal, Jenia, I need your help.” Lord Giles spoke in a low, ragged voice that indicated he was enduring a terrible strain.