Believing Your Eyes - A Medieval Romance (The Sword of Glastonbury Series Book 3)

by Lisa Shea

  A look of respect swept his gaze, and then he turned and headed off at a steady lope through the woods.

  Lucia was right on his heels.

  It wasn’t very difficult to follow the Grays’ trail - they had trampled a wide path through the bushes. About a half-mile down, Lucia and Stephen had another stroke of luck; their horses were waiting near a bush. By the marks in the area, it appeared the Gray scout had tried to take one back with him, but had been kicked or thrown. Stephen and Lucia quickly mounted and continued down the trail.

  Lucia thrilled with the excitement of the chase, but also found a center of calm swell within her at cantering down the path with Stephen at her side. Her mind coursed back to the closeness they were sharing when the Grays had first found them. She reflexively glanced over at Stephen. He returned her gaze with a look holding both pride and longing. Then he had turned to watch ahead, driving his horse harder through the dense brush.

  The pair rode for another two miles, and Lucia became concerned that they had somehow missed a turnoff. Suddenly, Lucia saw a scurrying shape in front of her. Stephen spotted the movement at the same time, and with a cry the two spurred their horses to lunge through the brush after the Gray. The scout darted away from Stephen, to Lucia’s side, and she was able to bring Troy alongside him. He turned his face up to hers in defiant anger.

  Her heart caught in her throat, and time seemed to stop. She would recognize that face anywhere. It was the weasel-like Gray who had tortured and killed Marcie’s brother in the snowstorm battle.

  Lucia’s previous thoughts of charity were quickly drowned in a tidal wave of hatred and fierce retribution. Bringing her leg over the saddle and drawing her sword in one deft motion, she leapt off the moving horse and landed heavily on the thrashing Gray.

  Stephen’s cry was sharp with warning. “Lucia!”

  Lucia dove headfirst into the fight. The Gray slashed with his short sword, adding a twisting move at the end which flung her own sword into the nearby bushes. In seconds Lucia’s dagger was in her right hand and she renewed the attack. All thought of personal safety vanished. This was the man who had ruthlessly tortured Vic and then had slain him.

  He would pay for that.

  Lucia slashed toward his face with her dagger, and he counter-punched her in the arm. Her arm instantly went numb with the impact. She rolled for another attack and he viciously kneed her in the groin. She almost laughed at how his dirty tactics would not be effective against her. Fury driving her on, she pressed down against him as he wriggled for a new advantage. She flipped the dagger into her other hand and brought it down toward his throat as he closed his own hand around her neck.

  There was movement at her peripheral vision. She cried out angrily, “Stay back! He is mine!”

  The Gray laughed roughly at this and used the momentary distraction to push off with his heel, flipping Lucia down on her back. The rough landing knocked the wind out of her, and stars cascaded in front of her eyes as he continued to press down against her throat.

  She had to concentrate.

  She focused on the blade in her hand, on the face that leered above her. His breath reeked like a week-old compost bin, and nausea rolled over her. She strained against him, sweat beading across her face. She needed to get his hand off her neck.

  She deliberately rolled to the left, to leave herself open to a disarming move - and he went for it. At the moment his hand left her throat to go for the knife, she slashed with all her might. The Gray’s eyes opened wide in shock, and he fell across her heavy and unmoving.

  Lucia let her head fall back against the rough ground and stared up at the forest sky as her breath came in heaving gasps. Her dagger dropped from her hand. She couldn’t move, both from his weight and her own exhaustion. As the adrenaline drained out of her body, throbbing pain settled into every corner.

  Marshaling her last ounces of strength, she gave a heave and pushed the mercenary off her, then lay wearily on her side and looked down her own form. There was a large bloodstain on the front of her tunic, and she touched it with one hand. As she did so, Stephen dropped to one knee beside her, sword still in hand.

  Guilt poured over her; she could not look him in the eye.

  He sheathed his sword with one smooth movement before reaching down to touch the bloodied area on her chest.

  His voice was low and shaking. “Are you all right?”

  She wondered if he had been upset at her fighting alone or at what she had done. She nodded and sat up. He offered her a hand, and she unsteadily regained her feet.

  The guilt of her actions overwhelmed her. This scout had not threatened them at all - and by all rights would have been an important resource to question. She had no excuse for killing him. Slowly, she turned to face Stephen. She was conscious of the crimson stain on her tunic, of the act she had just performed in cold blood. She couldn’t meet Stephen’s eyes.

  “This is the Gray mercenary that tortured Vic and then killed him,” she explained hesitantly. “Vic was so brave, and so young …”

  She shook her head. There was no excuse.

  Stephen’s hand on her chin gently made her raise her eyes to meet his own. She saw understanding there, and relief. “You did what had to be done,” he replied hoarsely. “To stand back while you fought was the hardest thing I have ever done. If I had lost you ...”

  Lucia could not hold herself back. She flung herself against Stephen’s chest, burying her face in his leather armor. His strong arms immediately wrapped tightly around her body, his cheek pressing down against her brow. The embrace brought her feelings of safety and security that she had not felt in a lifetime. Lucia knew without any question that she wanted to be by his side always.

  If only it were possible …

  The thunder of galloping hoofbeat broke them apart. Stephen’s hand flew to his sword, drawing it in face of this new threat, keeping Lucia next to and behind him. Lucia stood stock still, her own weapons out of reach. The safety she’d felt dissipated like mist on a summer’s day, leaving behind only emptiness. The drumming grew louder, and then suddenly Ian burst into the area, followed by five cavalrymen.

  Ian took in the dead Gray, Stephen’s drawn sword, and Lucia’s bloodied tunic in one glance. He leapt off his mount and raced to her side.

  “My God, Lucia - are you hurt? Your chest! Your leg!” Lucia realized that the bleeding from her leg wound had worsened, undoubtedly exacerbated by the ride here and the rough fighting. Her strength drained out of her as Ian took her by the arm.

  Ian’s voice was bright with energy. “Here, lean on me,” he offered, supporting her.

  Lucia looked up at Ian in confusion. Her thoughts whirled in a jumble of crimson streams and drifting green.

  It should be Stephen.

  The thought echoed through her mind with stronger and stronger power.

  She turned her head to look for him, but then Ian was lifting her into his arms. The sudden whirl brought on a wave of nausea, and she closed her eyes against the sensation, her face tensing in pain. Her leg throbbed and her breath could barely draw into her lungs. She felt heavy, as if Ian was small and insubstantial compared with Stephen’s strength.

  * * *

  Stephen watched, motionless, as Ian lifted Lucia onto his horse. Ian called down to him with real concern, “Are you all right? Can you make it back with the horses?”

  Stephen found he could only nod in assent.

  Ian breathed a sigh of relief, his face brightening. “I will leave some soldiers with you, just in case,” he continued. “I must get Lucia back to Brother Matthew before she loses more blood. Come behind us as soon as you can.”

  Stephen waved him to go on, and watched silently as Ian galloped toward the castle. An empty hole billowed within him, accompanied by a pain that was wholly unrelated to the injuries of the fight.

  There was nothing he could do. Lucia was not his. He himself was sworn to another.

  The world around him drained of color, the tranqu
il blues and shimmering golds shadowing, darkening, until all that remained was the deepest black.

  Chapter 11

  Lucia’s body throbbed with pain. She blinked her eyes open in the morning light. Various parts of her body were bandaged, and her parched throat rasped. She had barely pushed herself into a sitting position when Brother Matthew eased his way into the room, brightening with a smile when he saw that she was awake.

  “Good, good,” he called out agreeably. “I am glad to see you up. He moved to her side and lifted her wrist for a moment to feel her pulse. “You were fortunate to escape with so little damage; your leg will take several weeks to heal properly.” His eyes looked down at hers with tender concern. “You were lucky that Stephen was there to protect you, young lady. This time, when you heal, you might give some thought about staying within the walls.”

  “Yes, of course,” demurred Lucia with docile agreement. It would do no good to get into an argument with the kind brother. She rested quietly while he poked and prodded at her, then he was gone, leaving her in peace.

  The day faded in and out. She had a small bowl of soup brought by Ellie, and Anna came to sit by her side for a short while.

  Lucia looked up at her friend. “Did they find any other Grays?” she asked wearily. “Ellie seems almost unwilling to talk with me, and nobody else has been by.”

  Anna’s eyes seemed shadowed. “You rest up,” she soothed. “Everything is being taken care of.” Lucia felt she should press the question, but her eyelids slid down, and she found herself drifting away.

  The chair by her side remained resolutely empty.

  * * *

  Morning had come around again, and the Sunday church bells tolled out clearly in the gentle light. She pushed her covers off with an effort. She had been neglecting mass, but her injuries were not serious enough to hold her back today. Surely she could make it down to the stone chapel and back again. She was half dressed by the time Ellie came into the room.

  The young girl saw at once what she was up to. “Are you sure you are ready?” she asked, her voice concerned.

  “If I lay here like a slug, I will only become more lethargic,” ground out Lucia, pulling her dress down over her chemise.

  “If you push yourself too hard, you will relapse and take twice as long to recover,” pointed out Ellie quietly.

  “I promise, no rides, no swords,” agreed Lucia. “Just a quiet walk to the chapel, and then some sitting. I can manage that.”

  Ellie nodded, helping Lucia brush her hair out. In a short while, the two made their way down to the small stone building.

  Anna slid her way down the pew to sit on Lucia’s other side, and in a moment the familiar litany slid over her. Lucia lost herself in the music of the words, let her mind be swept up in the serenity of the ritual.

  “ … a prayer for the men who are at this moment out bearing arms against a brutal foe …”

  Lucia’s eyes sprang up, and she almost stood in alarm. Anna felt her movement and put a hand in restraint on her shoulder.

  Lucia’s voice was a low growl. “You never said -”

  “Shhhh,” responded Anna, motioning with her head toward Matthew. “Later,” she soothed her friend.

  Lucia took another look around her. She had not paid attention before, but she now realized that the chapel was perhaps only half full, and most of those present were women. Stephen, Ian, Marcus, Hector – none were to be seen, nor were any of the other guards. Her body tensed; with practiced effort she forced herself to relax again. It would not do her any good to get riled up now.

  Still, the moment the service was over she was standing, drawing Anna out of the stone room and out into the bright sun of the courtyard. The air was frosty and crisp, and her breath came out in bright puffs.

  “What is going on?” she bit out in frustration.

  “Nothing to worry about,” reassured Anna, patting her friend on the arm. “Those scouts which attacked you were in advance of a small raiding party. Stephen figured the Grays would send out a second group to try to figure out why the scouts had not returned, and he laid a trap for them yesterday. They were able to pick off another eight Grays without loss of life.”

  Her eyes shaded in worry. “The men have an even larger trap put out today. Stephen is testing just how many scouting parties the Grays will send before they give up or return in force.”

  “I should be there,” insisted Lucia, turning to head back toward her room. “I am a good archer. I could easily help with an ambush.” She ran a few steps, then winced, drawing to a stop, pressing a hand hard against her leg.

  A harsh call came from behind her. “What are you doing out of bed?”

  Lucia whirled, nearly dropping to one knee as the pain at her leg throbbed into vicious heat. Stephen took a step forward, then halted as Ellie worked her way around to slip beneath Lucia’s shoulder.

  Stephen’s voice was a growl. “You should be resting,” he snapped, drawing his eyes along her injuries.

  “I should be out in those woods, that is where I should be,” she hotly shot back, her hand moving to press hard against the wound. “You could use an archer if you have laid an ambush!”

  “You are hardly in any position to be a help,” he pointed out curtly, “and we have ample archers in our ranks. You will do us far more good if you rest back up to full strength.”

  “What is the status?” Lucia pulled herself up, wincing again at the sharp pain that zagged through her body.

  He paused a minute, his eyes drawing over her with worry, before nodding. “There is a lull,” he stated, his brow easing slightly. “After that first set of seven you and I took on, there were eight more the second day, and then six today. My guess is that they will stop coming. They will realize we are too well prepared for a casual sortie, and retreat to build up a larger force.”

  He glanced up at the wall behind her. “They would need some time to organize a larger attack. My guess is it would come several months from now.”

  “Right, in May, maybe June,” agreed Lucia, her mind skipping through the possibilities. “That gives them a few months of warmer weather to build up their reserves, to draw their troops together and raid some early crop farms. Then, when they are well fed, well rested, and the weather is on their side, when they have light to see by and our troops are spread thin watching over our farmers and villages, they will focus the attack.”

  Anna broke in with exasperation. “What in the world are you two talking about?” she cried. “How can you possibly know what those cretins are thinking?”

  The noon bell rang, and Lucia winced at the sound, then moaned as the wound in her leg throbbed into fresh agony. Stephen’s eyes went to Ellie. His voice was low and curt. “Get her back to her room. She is to stay there all day tomorrow at the very least.”

  Ellie glanced sideways at Lucia. “I will try my best.”

  Lucia’s body ached from all sides and she did not resist as Ellie walked her along the stairs back up to her room. Her head touched the pillow, and the world slipped away.

  * * *

  Heavy footsteps sounded along the corridor, and Lucia sprung to wakefulness, rubbing her eyes against the faint morning light. Stephen was coming to talk with her. It had been so long since he was in her room, by her side …

  The door pushed open, and she sunk back down against the bed in disappointment. Ian’s eyes looked attentively around the room and brightened when he saw Lucia was awake. He stepped in, closing the door behind him and coming to sit at her side with eager interest.

  “We are victorious!” he cried out in delight, taking her hand in his. “We have driven the Grays away!”

  “The Grays did send in a main force after all?” asked Lucia in confusion, pushing herself quickly to a sitting position.

  Ian shook his head roughly, his eyes bristling slightly. “No, no, but we are victorious all the same,” he insisted. “I watched with my group all afternoon long yesterday. There were no more forays, no more
scouting parties sent. They have given up! We are saved!”

  Lucia’s mouth quirked slightly. She would not have put such a positive spin on the short term respite, but she did not want to dispel Ian’s joy. She allowed herself to smile, to relax against the headboard. “That is wonderful news, Ian. I am very happy to hear that.”

  “Let me tell you exactly how it happened,” insisted Ian with delight. He launched into a second by second review of the past few days, starting with when he had heard Stephen’s horn blast. By the time he had finished, Ellie had brought over a plate of cheese and bread for them, and Lucia was starting to feel more human. She moved to swing her legs around.

  Ellie stepped forward. “Not on your life,” she warned, her gaze fierce. “Stephen said you were to remain in bed for another day at least. I take his orders very seriously.”

  Ian frowned, his eyes moving sharply to Lucia. “Stephen was here?”

  Lucia kept her face neutral, seeing the glint of jealousy shine from Ian’s gaze. “No, he has not been here,” she demurred. “I only ran into him and Anna briefly, at church yesterday.

  “Oh, of course,” agreed Ian, slightly mollified. “I could not be there – I was on duty at the time. Keeping the lands safe.”

  Ellie looked between the two. “Lucia really does need her sleep,” she commented quietly. “Perhaps you could come back later?”

  “Of course,” agreed Ian, drawing himself to a standing position. “Until then!” He smiled, then turned and strode out of the room.

  It was only a short while later that Brother Matthew came in to check on her. “No infection so far,” he smiled with appreciation after a quick but through examination. “If only all of my patients healed as quickly as you do. Of course, most of my patients do not get themselves into nearly as much trouble in the first place.”

  “I am just lucky, I guess,” chuckled Lucia. “Thank you for your time, I know you must be busy.”