Hostage Bride

by Anne Herries

  Where was Rosamunde at this moment? He felt that she was in trouble and afraid. Of course she must be, knowing that she was a prisoner of the baron. He might already have harmed her, forced her…No; even the thought was too painful. He could not bear it and thrust it from his mind.

  Rosamunde was his. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted a woman in his life. He loved her, loved her passionately with all his heart and being, in a way that he had not dreamed he could ever love anyone.

  As the realisation swept over him, he was filled with a sense of joy mixed with despair. Rosamunde had completely taken away the pain of his first wife’s death and in its place had come a deep, warm and abiding love that he believed would last his whole life. He had never realised that he could love like this. Rosamunde had showed him his true nature and if he lost her now his life would not be worth living.

  ‘I vow I will not fail you,’ he said, and fell to his knees beneath the branches of an ancient oak. ‘If God grants me victory, I shall show you how much I love you—and if I die I pray that you will be safe.’

  Tears slipped down his cheeks in the darkness. He had learned to understand himself and his feelings for Rosamunde—but was it too late for the two of them to find happiness together?

  ‘I cannot lose you. I cannot let you suffer at that beast’s hands.’

  Rising to his feet, he steeled himself, shutting off emotion as he had so often in the past. He must be strong. Nothing mattered but the woman he had come to love. All his hopes rested with Janquil. His servant was slight, his shape almost womanly. It was his plan that he change clothes with Rosamunde once they were inside. As they had entered under a flag of truce, Rosamunde—masquerading as Janquil—would be allowed to ride out and take Raphael’s fallen body back to his men, if the absolute worst happened.

  If Rosamunde had the courage, she could take Janquil’s place and escape to freedom—but would she? Raphael remembered her declaration of love and feared that she would lose her head and give in to her grief.

  He must kill Baron Sigmund. It was the only way to be certain of securing her freedom. He knew without boasting that he was an excellent fighter, but all the reports of the baron said the other man was truly fearsome in battle. Raphael had to prepare himself for it to be an even fight, with perhaps only an even chance of triumphing.

  * * *

  Once or twice the air in the passage had become very stuffy. Rosamunde had feared that her torch would go out and she would be forced to continue in the dark. She’d heard scuffling in the darkness and knew that there were some kind of creatures here. Once a furry body brushed her ankle and she gave a scream of fright. Would the rats attack her?

  Whatever it was she had disturbed, it went running off, probably as frightened as she. She breathed deeply, her throat tight. How long had she been in this terrible place? It felt like the end of the world, as if she were dead and searching like a lost soul for the way across the River Styx.

  The walls of the tunnel had been damp at one stage, water trickling down the walls. However, for a while now the air had been better and the rock on either side of her was dry. She noticed that she appeared to be climbing upwards and her spirits lifted. Surely she must be coming to the end of this foul journey? Soon she would be out in the fresh air—and then what?

  Griselda had told her she would come out in some ancient ruins. From there she needed to find the village, because Raphael’s camp would not be far away.

  She might soon be with him. Her pulse raced and her pace increased. What time was it? She had no idea whether it was night or morning. Would she be in time to stop the combat between Raphael and the baron?

  Ahead of her she could see a glimmer of light. Running towards it, she began to realise that the entrance to the passage stood open, covered only by living vines. Thrusting them to one side, she emerged into the fresh air and looked about her.

  She was clearly in what had once been a chapel and she could see the shape of a stone cross lying amongst the rubble. What had happened here? For a moment she seemed to hear the cries of terrified priests as invading hordes cut them down and she shivered. The entrance to the passage was guarded by the ghosts of long ago, keeping away curious villagers. She ran through the fallen stones and stood on the grassy bank that rose above the surrounding countryside. Away to her left was a flickering light that gave a red glow to the night. The glow must be the fires of Raphael’s camp; it was no more than half a mile distant.

  Her torch flickered, spluttered and went out. Throwing it down, Rosamunde began to run towards the glow of the campfires.

  Raphael sat with his back to the tree. He knew that he must rest. He had no appetite for food, yet he ought to eat if only to remain strong for the next day. Baron Sigmund had agreed to meet him in single combat the following morning at ten.

  ‘Rosamunde, my love,’ he whispered into the darkness. ‘If I could but look upon your face once more…’

  Thrusting aside the thoughts that could only make him weak, he rose to his feet. He must rest if he were to be strong enough in the morning. To think of her now would drive him mad.

  He stared up at the sky. The moon was full, shedding its silvery light over trees and bushes, the road leading to an early Christian church that had been razed to the ground in the ninth century by invading Vikings. Someone was running from the ruins—a woman. Something about the way she moved drew his gaze, holding it, his heart beginning to drum so it became thunder in his ears. ‘Rosamunde…’ He could not see her and yet his senses drove him forward as he began to run. ‘Rosamunde, my beloved!’

  She had seen him and she cried out something. He increased his pace and then she was close enough for him to see her face.

  ‘It is you—my dear one! Rosamunde, they told me you were his prisoner—how came you here?’ he cried out.

  ‘Raphael!’ she cried and threw herself into his arms, a sob in her voice as he held her close. ‘I was locked in the tower but escaped with an old lady’s help. She hated the baron passionately because he killed her son—his half-brother, baseborn out of wedlock.’

  ‘My love.’ He clasped her to him, holding her close as if he hardly dared to believe that she was here in his arms. She could hear his heartbeat, feel her own racing wildly as he gazed down at her, his look so wild and passionate that it sent shivers through her. ‘You are safe. God has answered my prayers. Now I can meet my fate with a brave heart.’

  She looked up at him, close to tears. ‘No, you must not meet the baron in single combat. No one has ever beaten him. He is bigger and heavier than you, Raphael. There is no need to fight him now. I am free; let us return to the castle and be safe together.’

  ‘My word is given,’ Raphael said and looked down at her, a smile of understanding on his lips. ‘You must not be afraid for me, my dearest one. I have fought many warriors as brave and fierce as the baron. Now that I know you are free, I can fight with a free heart. Have courage, my dearest, for God is with me and I shall prevail.’

  ‘Please, I beg you, do not fight him,’ she pleaded. ‘I escaped so that you would not have to give your life for mine. The baron never meant to set me free. Had he killed you, he would have taken me as his whore, or his wife if I pleased him.’

  ‘That was my fear and will remain so if we leave now. You will never be safe unless I fight him and win,’ Raphael said, and his arms tightened about her. ‘You must not be anxious, Rosamunde. Now that I do not have to worry for your sake, I shall be stronger.’

  ‘Please, no…’

  He closed her mouth with a passionate kiss, his lips so tender that she near swooned against him. She clung to him but held back her tears, knowing that his mind was set and she must not continue to beg.

  ‘Hush, my love. I must fight, for this score remains unsettled between us. If it is not settled now we shall none of us be able to rest in peace,’ he said gently.

  ‘If you die I shall not want to live. I have no one but you. My father is dead and I will not return t
o my cousin’s service,’ she said brokenly.

  He drew back and looked at her. ‘Your father lives and I have already made arrangements for your future. He will have money enough to employ men to defend you both and to give you a dowry, should you choose to marry another.’

  ‘Baron Sigmund told me my father was dead!’ she exclaimed.

  ‘He lied. You are not alone, Rosamunde. Besides, I truly believe that I shall prevail,’ he said determinedly.

  ‘Will nothing sway you?’ She would not beg and yet she truly feared that she would lose him if he fought, for the baron was so strong.

  ‘Nothing you can say will change what must be,’ Raphael reiterated and smiled at her reassuringly. ‘Fear not, I shall not fail you. Now, I shall take you to the camp. When I ride to meet the baron, six of my men shall take you back to Mornay. You will wait there until I come for you.’

  ‘And if you do not return?’ she whispered.

  ‘Then you must go to your father.’

  ‘If it is your command, my lord.’

  ‘Not my command—my wish. I would not have you come to harm, dearest one,’ he said tenderly.

  ‘I shall do as you bid me, my lord.’

  How could she say otherwise? She loved him so, but it would break her heart to lose him.

  A tear trickled down her cheek. Raphael frowned and smoothed it away. ‘I must see you safe and then I should rest. I need my strength for the morning and if I spend the entire night with you I should be too weak to fight,’ he teased gently and was rewarded with a wan smile from her.

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘My lady, forgive me for not saving you from this ordeal,’ Janquil said as he brought her food and wine. ‘Alone that day, I could do nothing when you were captured by Sir Ian, though I would gladly have given my life for yours. I knew I should be killed and then no one would know where you were. It was my duty to let my lord know what had happened.’

  ‘Had you not returned to the castle to inform them of my capture, my lord would not have been here to rescue me now. I escaped the castle, but had I been forced to find my own way to Mornay I might have been recaptured or starved to death before I reached safety,’ she acknowledged.

  ‘Tell me, lady,’ Janquil said as he squatted on the earth beside her. ‘How did you escape? My lord did not tell us.’

  ‘Through a secret passage that leads from the ruins to the great hall of the castle. An old woman showed me the way but would not come with me. She wanted to see Baron Sigmund’s face when he discovered that I escaped.’

  ‘He will kill her.’

  ‘She knows that but does not care,’ she said sadly.

  ‘She must hate him very much,’ he commented.

  ‘Yes, I believe she does.’ Rosamunde looked at him. ‘You know my lord well. Is there no way we can prevent him from fighting the baron?’

  ‘At the moment he is sleeping,’ Janquil said. ‘In the morning I shall tell him of the secret way. By such a means we could let our men into the castle. Tell me exactly where the lever is to be found, my lady. I begin to see what we might do.’

  ‘I know my lord is a brave fighter, but I fear treachery,’ Rosamunde said. ‘When Sigmund discovers I am not there, he will be angry. Raphael will be alone. If the baron chooses, Raphael may be taken prisoner and slain without a chance to fight.’

  ‘This is what I have always feared,’ Janquil told her. ‘My lord is too stubborn. He might have deceived the baron for your sake, but he is a man of honour, and now he will keep his promise to fight—but there is something we might do…’

  * * *

  ‘Be of good heart, my love,’ Raphael said and gazed down into her face. His fingers trailed her cheek and her white throat. Her body felt as if it were melting. She wanted to melt into him so that they need not be parted—for if he died what was there in life for her? ‘If God is on my side I shall win this day and then we shall be wed. I swear that we shall never be parted again while I live.’

  ‘I love you,’ Rosamunde said, head high as she smiled bravely. The time for begging was past but now she had a plan to save him if the baron betrayed him. ‘You have my love and my prayers.’

  He bent his head and kissed her softly, incredibly proud of her bravery. ‘Keep that in your heart until we meet again.’

  Rosamunde nodded and stood back, watching as Janquil mounted and rode off with his master. He turned once, making a slight movement of his head, as if to indicate that all would be well.

  Rosamunde blinked and looked at the men waiting to escort her back to Mornay. She walked towards the horse that she was to mount and then stopped, shaking her head.

  ‘I want to go with the men,’ she said. ‘I want to go back through the passage with you into the castle. I must be there. I cannot ride to safety when my lord may lose his life.’

  ‘Raphael would hang us all if we allowed you to do that, lady. We must obey his orders,’ said one of the men in dismay.

  ‘You may, but I shall not,’ Rosamunde said forcefully and turned. She ran up the slight incline towards the ruins. Raphael had no idea what Janquil and the rest of his men had plotted together, but already she could see the knights and men-at-arms preparing to enter the tunnel. Behind her, the men detailed to escort her had paused, unsure of what to do.

  Rosamunde saw the last of the men enter the tunnel and went in after them. Three had flares held aloft but the darkness held no fears for her this time. She was determined to see what happened. Raphael’s men would not dare to interfere if the fight took place, for his fury would know no bounds—but, if the baron betrayed him, they would fall upon them and rescue him. The baron’s men would not expect an attack from within and the attackers would have the advantage.

  Hearing a sound behind her, Rosamunde looked over her shoulder and saw that her escort had decided to follow after all. They made no attempt to drag her back, and she smiled, knowing that all the men felt as she did: they wanted to be there in case the baron reneged on his word. They all knew Baron Sigmund was not to be trusted in the slightest. Raphael was in more danger than he imagined.

  * * *

  ‘What?’ Baron Sigmund glared at the old woman as she stood before him. ‘Why can you not bring Lady Rosamunde to watch the combat?’

  ‘Because she has gone.’ Griselda cackled, a look of wild glee in her eyes. ‘I helped her to escape and she went last night.’

  ‘Damn you!’ He struck her across the face, knocking her off her feet. Towering over her, he swore furiously.

  ‘If this is the truth, you will suffer the torments of the damned.’

  ‘Nothing you do now can harm me,’ Griselda said defiantly as she rose to her feet and stood before him once more. ‘You killed my son, your half-brother. When you did that I vowed revenge—and this day I have it.’

  ‘Damn you.’ The baron caught his sword but even as he lifted his arm a fanfare drew his attention. ‘You will keep. I have more important work for my sword,’ he snarled.

  He strode away, watching as two men rode into the courtyard. Seeing that Raphael had brought only a puny squire with him, he smiled. The fool was unprotected. He had planned to fight man to man in order to show the woman he held hostage that he was invincible in battle and was deserving of her as a prize, but now there was no real purpose to the fight. He had the son of a hated enemy at his mercy. He would hang him and be done with it.

  Striding towards Raphael, he saw the squire fall back, and then turn tail and run in the direction of the hall. He laughed, because the man was clearly terrified.

  ‘Let the rabbit run,’ he said as one of his men moved, as if to stop him. ‘He can do us no harm. He will be caught and dealt with later. He cannot escape.’

  ‘My squire is here under a flag of truce,’ Raphael said coolly. ‘He must be allowed to leave without harm, whatever the outcome.’

  ‘I find I am not minded to fight this day,’ the baron drawled. ‘You are a fool, Mornay. You are completely at my mercy. I do not know why you rode
in here without an escort to see fair play, but since you have I shall accept the gift you offer. I hated your father and now I have a score to settle with you. Sir Edmund was my blood kin and his death must be avenged.’

  ‘We shall settle this by combat as we agreed,’ Raphael said firmly.

  ‘That was before the wench managed to escape me.’ Sigmund scowled. ‘I see no reason to waste my breath fighting you when I have you at my mercy. Once you are dead, I shall take all that was yours—your lands, your castle and your woman.’

  ‘You are a coward and a fool, sir,’ Raphael retorted. ‘I have come with all honour to fight you. Let it be done according to the rules of chivalry and retain your own honour.’

  ‘I have none to lose,’ Sigmund said with a sour twist of his mouth. ‘My father wanted to put his bastard in my place. I killed them both and took what belonged to me. Why should I give you the chance to kill me?’

  ‘You swore that you owed loyalty to King Richard—was even that false?’ Raphael asked heatedly.

  ‘If Richard comes here I shall bend the knee. I am no fool, but I serve only myself. Richard will not remain in England for long. He loves war and the chance of glory. Besides, he will be too busy holding his throne to bother about my business.’

  ‘You are a knave and without honour. Your blood would taint my sword,’ Raphael said grimly. ‘I was warned not to trust you and I should have listened.’

  ‘Take him!’ the baron yelled to his men. ‘Drag him from his horse and bring him here.’

  For a moment the men were too stunned to move. They were rogues who lived by the sword, but a flag of truce was sacred, and so was the promise Baron Sigmund had given to fight in single combat.

  ‘Damn you, do as I tell you!’ the baron roared. ‘Or I’ll hang the lot of you.’

  Galvanised into action, four men moved towards Raphael, trying to grab him and pull him from his horse. He drew his sword and slashed at them, cutting into the light armour of chain mail they wore.