“Take care of her,” Bren growled, “or I will be after you, young man.”
“I consider myself amply warned, lady.”
Martha barely had the chance to shout goodbye before the man gathered his reins and cantered swiftly from the village.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
They took to the road, heading north. The hedgerows burst with green life, no longer the stark skeletons Martha recalled from the previous winter. Forge kept pace with the black horse, his pink tongue lolling from his mouth as he ran.
“Send him home,” the rider growled over his shoulder.
“No.” Martha stuffed her pack firmly between their bodies. “If he can keep up, I’ll be glad to have him with me.” She clutched at the high back of the saddle, watching the scenery as it whipped by. “Where are you taking me? Are we going to Edgeway?”
The man grunted.
She tried again. “How do you know Vadim?”
“We are brothers,” he answered curtly.
Martha tensed. “He doesn’t have any brothers.”
“I was speaking figuratively, of course.”
“Oh. Did Vadim send you to fetch me?”
“No. I have been watching the village in his absence.”
“Did he ask you to do so?”
“Why else would I be here, lady?” He was beginning to sound slightly irritated by her barrage of questions, but Martha didn’t care.
“He asked you to take me away if the Evil Earl reared his butt-ugly head?”
The man snorted. She couldn’t tell whether he was amused or disgusted. “Of course. You do ask a lot of questions, m’lady.”
“What did you expect, that I’d follow you like a little lamb?” She settled back against the high back of the saddle. “If Vadim told you I would, then I’m afraid you’ve been sorely misled, my friend.”
“So it would seem.” But the man didn’t seem upset about it. “I am beginning to feel much sympathy for my Lord Vadim.”
“Watch it.” Martha prodded his back. “I am still here, you know.”
He sighed. “I am only too aware of the fact, lady.”
When he lapsed into silence again, she didn’t mind. Their brief conversation had settled much of the panic within her heart. He was definitely Vadim’s man. If he’d been sweeter and more polite, she wouldn’t have trusted him at all.
They traveled along the North Road for another mile or so, then turned left up a narrow track heading for the remains of an abandoned homestead. The stranger dismounted and walked the horse around the back of the tumbledown buildings. When they reached a rickety wooden gate that led to an area of open pasture, the man looked up at her. “We can take the horse no further,” he said. “From here, we travel on foot.”
Martha dismounted with difficulty, hampered by her long skirt. The man stood by and made no attempt to help. As soon as her feet touched the ground, Forge trotted to her side, panting and wagging his tail, covering her hand in hot doggy drool. She was relieved he’d managed to keep up.
While she fussed over Forge, the man untacked his horse, and, after giving the animal a brief pat, he turned it loose in the meadow. Then he stashed the saddle and bridle inside the open doorway of the ruined house and set off walking. He didn’t look back to see if Martha was following.
She sighed. What choice did she have?
Unlike Vadim, this man didn’t wait for her. He strode up the steep, grassy gradient as easily as if it were level ground. For all she struggled to keep up, the man drew farther and farther ahead. From experience, she knew it was better to find her own pace than attempt to match someone else’s. So she stopped trying to compete. Gradually, her breathing slowed, and her heart rate settled into a less frightening rhythm.
It was hot though. She plodded uphill, occasionally swiping her cloak over her sweaty face—the horrid, itchy thing. But wearing the garment was easier than having to carry it.
The man walked on, soon becoming a small dot on the horizon.
Martha was glad of Forge’s company, particularly when they reached the treacherous scree slopes. As the rocks shifted beneath her feet, she clung to his collar, her knuckles white with fear. It was a long way down to the bottom of the hill.
Keeping to her slow and steady pace, Martha gradually began to enjoy the walk. The gentle sounds of the wind rushing through the grass, and the songs of hidden curlews accompanied her panting breaths. When she dared to look up from the narrow path, she saw swallows soaring and diving in the sky overhead.
The man was nowhere in sight.
She didn’t see him again until she crested the top of the hill. He was sitting on a large rock, his face uncovered, drinking from the bladder he carried on his belt. As Martha approached, he hurriedly rearranged the fabric mask around the lower half of his face.
“Don’t mind me.” Martha flopped down on the rock beside him. “There’s no need to cover up on my account. My hubby is an outlaw too, remember?” Forge jumped up and settled himself on the rock behind them, basking in the sunshine.
“I do not doubt your loyalty, m’lady, but a good torturer can extract the truth from even the most trustworthy,” he replied. “It is better this way. After all, you cannot tell what you do not know.”
Martha shuddered. How easily he spoke of such terrible things. “In that case, I guess there’s no point in asking for your name.”
The man shrugged and offered the bladder to her. She sniffed suspiciously at the contents before raising it to her lips. Ale. Warm, sweet ale. The perfect lubricant for a parched throat. After taking a few hefty gulps, she handed it back. “Thanks. Have another drink if you like. I promise not to look at you.”
She stared straight ahead, her mind spinning with the events of the day. And it wasn’t over yet. Why had she ever considered staying on in this mad world? As much as she loved Vadim, the stranger’s arrival was a timely reminder of just how stupid an idea it really was. If the opportunity to leave ever presented itself, she was gone.
“You would have done better to marry a farmer,” the man commented, unconsciously reading her mind. “Not that anyone here is truly safe anymore.”
Martha had no intention of discussing her ‘marriage’ with him and quickly changed the subject. “Where are you taking me?”
“‘Tis not far now.” He stood up. “Shall we proceed? I am keen to return to my duties.”
“And what might they be? If it’s not a state secret, of course.”
“I will continue to observe Darumvale. We follow the Earl’s movements closely, m’lady. Like a poisonous snake, it is always better to know exactly where he is at all times.” They set off walking. This time, the man shortened his stride to match Martha’s.
“So why hasn’t someone chopped off this snake’s head before now?” she asked, glancing at Forge who’d found a little stream to drink from.
The man made a sound of grim amusement from behind his mask. “You make it sound so simple. Unfortunately, the Earl is seldom without his guards. Even when he is, he is far too slippery to hold. Whatever spirit watches over him guards him well. Many men have died attempting to end Lord Edgeway’s life.”
At length, they reached a series of caves burrowed into the mountainside. The man took Martha inside the largest of them. “What is this fixation they have with caves?” she muttered as she explored her new surroundings. But he heard her.
“They are a haven for us. Even the Earl’s men dare not stray too far into the mountains. These are our lands.” His blue eyes glittered above his mask. “Not even the King can claim them.”
She dropped her pack to the compacted, hard floor then took off her cloak. “Is that what happened to you? Did someone take your lands? Vadim told me what happened to the old noble families. Is that why you’re doing this?”
The man regarded her curiously, staring as if she’d suddenly grown another head.
“You must ask your husband,” he said at last. “It is not my place to tell you anything.”
Great. Yet another mystery.
“The woodpile is over yonder.” He gestured toward the back of the cave. “There is a spring outside that is safe to drink from. Your friends gave me plenty of food.” He indicated the pack he’d brought with him from the village. “Is there anything else you require of me before I leave?”
He was going already?
“No—I’m good, thanks,” she heard herself reply. Crouching down, Martha unrolled her bedding by the doorway. “When will you be back?” With effort, she made it sound like a casual question.
“I will try and look in on you each evening.”
Don’t just leave me here!
“Fine.”
What about the wolves?
As he walked past her, heading outside, she battled the urge to grab at the train of his cloak and keep him there.
He paused and looked back at her. “If two nights pass and you have not seen me, you must consider I am dead and make other arrangements. Is that clear?”
She nodded, not knowing what else to say. What ‘other arrangements’? Darumvale or Edgeway were her only options. “I understand. Call me needy if you like, but I’d prefer it if you stayed alive.”
The man’s eyes crinkled above his mask as though he was smiling. “I will endeavor to do as you ask. Farewell.”
When he was gone, Martha slowly unpacked her things; the task took only a few moments to complete. Lonely and miserable, she dragged her bedroll outside the cave entrance and sat in the late sunshine, watching the shadows lengthen. Pangs of worry gnawed her belly, and not just for her own sorry hide. She stroked Forge’s head as it lay on her lap, and looked into the valley below.
The Evil Earl would be at the village by now. How would the villagers fare? She prayed he wouldn’t stay long. Martha felt awful, hiding away in comparative safety while her friends had little choice but to face him. But what else could she do?
Darumvale was a small place, and the Earl probably knew everyone who lived there. A stranger would attract many awkward questions. And what if he remembered her from their previous encounter, as Vadim feared he might? What would the Earl do to a woman who’d been keeping company with outlaws?
The truth and her cover story were equally dangerous. If either were revealed, the villagers’ fate might be even worse. All she could do was wait and hope.
It was still dark when Forge woke her. His deep rumbling growls sounded blood-curdling in the night.
Martha sat up, heart thundering, her scalp prickling with fear. “What is it?” she whispered, hugging the dog’s neck.
Tense as stone, Forge faced the cave entrance. Though he made no attempt to go outside, he continued growling.
Something was definitely out there.
Cautiously, she peered into the dark beyond the cave entrance. Dawn wasn’t too far off. Fingers of red and gold already streaked the inky sky. She longed for the comfort of the fire, but it had burned low, its glowing embers casting almost no light.
Wolves? No. Forge would be going off his tree if they were around. These growls were just a gentle warning.
Taking a shuddering breath, Martha kicked off her blanket and got up. Thank God she’d slept fully clothed. Facing an intruder dressed only in her nightwear would’ve made her feel even more vulnerable. Forge got up too, his growls still rumbling in his throat.
Summoning her feeble courage, she held her breath and tiptoed to the cave entrance and groped for the sturdy stick she’d left propped by the wall. Slowly, she poked her head outside.
Everything looked as it should. The world slumbered on, quiet and still. The various lumps and shadows all looked familiar in the half-night. She strained her ears, listening for anything that didn’t belong. Except for Forge’s growling, all she heard was the sighing of the wind. She exhaled. But the dog remained rigid at her side.
“You daft old thing, scaring me like that.” Martha patted him with a clammy hand. Relief made her feel giddy. “There’s nothing out there. Come on. Let’s go and make breakfast, hmm?”
To her surprise, Forge didn’t follow. He bounded off several paces and snuffled excitedly at something on the ground. Then he raised his head and whined at her.
“What’s that?” Martha picked up her skirts and strode through the dewy grass towards him. “Little Timmy’s fallen down a mine shaft?” She stumbled over a sturdy root and swore. “That’d better not be a dead bird, Forge. If you roll in it, you’ll be sleeping outside, alright?”
But it wasn’t a bird.
“Oh, fuck. No!”
She set off running toward the man lying motionless on the heather. The outlaw who’d brought her from Darumvale.
“Move, Forge!” She pushed the dog aside. “Good boy. Let me see him.” The man’s eyes were closed. “Can you hear me?” She shook his arm. The man groaned. An unmistakable metallic tang assaulted her nose. Blood? Hands shaking, she carefully frisked his body. Two short wooden shafts protruded from his abdomen. Arrows? My God! This can’t be happening. Hot bile rose up into her mouth, but she swallowed it back. The man needed help. Unfortunately for him, hers was all he had.
“Mister?” Damn. She didn’t even know his name.
His eyelids flickered open. “You…must…leave…this place.” He struggled for breath. “They may be…tracking me.”
“Shh.” Martha stroked his hair. “Let’s get you sorted out first.”
“No!” He wrenched off his facemask, revealing the face it concealed.
Her heart sank even further. She knew then, his wounds must be very serious indeed. “There is…no time.” He gripped her hand, but he was so weak she barely felt it.
As the sun peeped over the horizon, Martha could see him properly. Tears blurred her eyes. He was young, barely out of his teens, far too young to be dying on a mountain. Sweat beaded his pale brow. His grimacing lips were tinged with blue. “Leave me,” he whispered, his eyes pleading.
“I will.” She forced a smile. “Soon.” She glanced at the arrows sticking out of his tunic. The leather was dark, saturated with blood. The ends of the arrows were gone. He’d probably broken them off himself. Martha was no doctor, but even she knew the man was beyond all earthly aid. It was a miracle he’d made it this far.
“Are you thirsty?” she asked.
He nodded once then closed his eyes.
She ran to the cave, returning seconds later clutching a bladder of ale in one hand and her cloak in the other. Please be alive!
He was. Barely. Martha covered the man-child with her cloak and moved behind him, supporting his head so he could drink from the bladder. Most of the ale trickled over his downy cheeks. But he must have swallowed some for she saw his throat contracting. “Better?”
What a stupid thing to say! He’s dying, you fool.
She dabbed his face dry with her handkerchief then carefully laid him back down. She stretched out beside him. Forge lay at the man’s other side, whining softly. “Is there any…message you want to leave for anyone?” she asked, clasping his cold hand. Tears ran unchecked down her face.
“My…family…are gone.” He drew another rasping breath. “Tell Vadim…I tried to…stop them. I tried to—” He gasped, writhing in pain. Fresh blood welled from the corners of his mouth.
“Hush.” Martha put her arms around him and cuddled him against her breast. Resting her cheek on his head, she slowly rocked him like a mother with a restless child. “It’s all right,” she soothed. “I’ll tell him. You did well. Vadim will be proud of you. Rest now. Ssh.”
“You are…worthy of him, m’lady. I see…it now…”
He didn’t speak again.
Martha held him long after he’d gone, unable to let go, her tears slowly soaking his hair.
Eventually, when her aching arms demanded it, she laid the man down onto the heather. Flakes of drying blood covered her hands and clothes, crumbling into dust whenever she moved. She felt sick. This time, when hot bile rushed into her mouth, she let it out and retched in the grass for
several minutes. Forge watched her through sorrowful eyes.
When her stomach was empty, Martha sat up and drew a sleeve across her sour mouth. She stared at the man’s body. It was the first time she’d seen a dead person. What an ending to such a young life. After gently closed his staring eyes, she scrambled stiffly to her feet. This wasn’t the right time to mourn him, not when he’d died trying to warn her. She owed it to him to escape if she could.
But she couldn’t leave him out in the open for the wolves.
After reluctantly reclaiming her bloody cloak, she covered the man’s face with a blanket, then raced back and forth across the plateau, gathering as many rocks as she could lift. She stacked them around the dead man in a makeshift, grisly cairn. It wasn’t the best grave in the world, but it was the best she could do. At least he was decently covered now.
With Forge at her side, she stood over his grave and said a silent prayer.
I didn’t even know your name, but I truly hope you’ve found peace.
Ten minutes later, she was packed up and on the move. Her options were limited. Darumvale was out of the question, and if she walked toward Edgeway, chances were she’d encounter the Earl or his men on the road. If caves were good enough for outlaws, they were good enough for her. And she knew just where to find some.
Casting many nervous glances into the valley, Martha set off for the mountain she’d visited last winter with Vadim. It was easy enough to spot. Looming in the distance like an anvil, it dwarfed the surrounding hills. It looked a long way off, but they might reach it before dark if they didn’t dawdle.
The sun shone bright and warm in a light-blue sky. It was another beautiful spring day, but Martha was too depressed to appreciate it. She couldn’t stop crying.
At any moment she expected someone to see her. To hear a cry of, ‘there she is’. But it didn’t come. Except for the occasional rabbit or startled bird, she encountered no one. Forge seemed aware of her distress and padded quietly at Martha’s side, forsaking even the slowest rabbits.
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