by Ken Johns
“What is it, Lady Mila?” Raymond asked.
“I think we’ll try the other side of the road now.” Mila crossed the flat stones and stepped into the mud on the far side. She spotted a lone set of footprints leading into the woods. The footprints were deep, like a person might leave if they carried a heavy load. The prints led into the forest, where they ended at a tree. Behind the tree, Mila found the chest. Nice job, Jess. The very first tree you came to?
Mila bent over and lifted the lid. The MCV lay in one corner on the pile of coins. She picked it up, choking back tears and not sure which emotion to blame them on. She was happy she’d found the chest, sad that Jess was dead, and desperately hopeful that she might just see her again.
“Have you found something, Lady Mila?” Sir Raymond stood on the edge of the road, looking concerned.
She pocketed the MCV and closed the lid. She grabbed the handles and bent her knees to lift the chest. It did not budge. That’s why it’s at the closest tree. It must have taken all of Jess’s strength to carry it this far.
She smiled and stood up without the chest. “Sir Raymond, thank goodness you’re here.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
April 30, 1341
Evelyn forced herself not to smile.
“Not here?” Reginald’s forehead broke out in a sweat. “What do you mean Sir Raymond is not here?”
“Reginald, calm yourself.” She stepped aside and let him and Henri into her chamber. “I sent him to look after Lady Mila in the forest.”
“But Wessex awaits him. He demands satisfaction.”
The chant of the crowd drifted in through Evelyn’s window. Ray-mon, Ray-mon.
“How can he demand anything?” Evelyn closed the door to keep what little warmth there was in the room. “The tournament was yesterday.”
“He has set up a blockade at the barbican gate. He says no man shall pass until Raymond agrees to face him. He’s calling it a pas d’armes.” Reginald’s gaze fell on Henri. “You. You should be in the forest, looking after the witch. Not Raymond. Whatever were you thinking?”
Evelyn let Reginald stew. He was clearly out of sorts and might well agree to anything. Perhaps this could be turned to her advantage. Since Raymond was not here to finish Wessex himself, she might be able to use this opportunity to regain the trust of…” Might I suggest something?”
“No.” Reginald glared at her.
Evelyn smiled but continued anyway. “Henri is a fine swordsman. Why not have him wear Raymond’s armor and fight in his stead? No one will ever know.”
“Mon Dieu!” It was Henri’s turn to gape at her.
“Yes! That’s very good, Evelyn.” Reginald spun around to Henri. “Get suited up.”
“But, my lord—”
“Shut it. You should have been in the forest. Now you will have to take Raymond’s place in this pas d’armes. I will go out to the gate and tell Wessex that ‘Raymond’ is on his way.” Reginald grinned and rushed from the room. “Hurry now.”
Henri’s face was an ashen mask.
“Oh, come now, Henri. I would never put you in such danger. Besides, Raymond’s armor would never fit you.”
“But—”
She put a finger to his lips. “Raymond is a full head taller than you. The crowd would see the counterfeit at once.”
“No!” Sandra stared at John. She couldn’t believe he was even considering Lady Evelyn’s ridiculous idea.
“Sandra, think about it.” John crossed his arms and glanced toward the open door. He lowered his voice. “If I help with this, she’ll owe us. We don’t have a lot of friends here.”
Evelyn and Henri waited outside the door for John’s answer. Sandra stepped toward John and lowered her own voice to match his. “What makes you think she’ll keep her word? Mila doesn’t trust her anymore.”
There had to be another reason, but he wasn’t telling her. He refused to meet her eye and kept glancing at the door. Sandra took his face in her hands and made him look at her. “What is it? Why won’t you tell me?”
John looked into her eyes and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” then looked away.
Sandra’s heart broke a little bit. They’d been together for thirty-five years, and she was still surprised when John thought he could lie to her. Maybe she should be thankful he was so easy to read, but it always hurt when he pulled this shit.
She took a deep breath and released it before she started the all-too-familiar dance. “Really? Because I think you know exactly what I’m talking about. Let’s look at the facts.” Sandra held up her index finger. “One. You don’t trust this woman any more than I do. You said so yourself. Two.” She added another finger. “There is no evidence to suggest she will honor any kind of arrangement. And three.” She added another finger. “You are not a stupid man, just a stubborn one.”
John grimaced but refused to meet her eye.
Sandra put down her hand. “Please, tell me why you are so willing to risk fighting this man.”
John stepped in and grabbed her into a hug. His warm bulk around her felt good, but she wasn’t about to let him off the hook. She pushed him back and looked up into his face. His eyes brimmed with tears. Sandra’s mouth fell open, and her heart leapt into her throat.
“I have to,” John growled. “Evelyn said Wessex helped the bishop convince Reginald to execute Jess. No way he gets a pass.”
And there it was.
John walked out the door.
“Henri will take you to Raymond’s pavilion and help you get into his armor.” Lady Evelyn handed John a cloak with a hood. “Put this on. You cannot be seen until you are in full armor with the visor closed.”
John knelt in Raymond’s armor in the outer bailey. Lady Evelyn made a show of leaning over and kissing his helmet.
“Henri is waiting in the pavilion to help you out of the armor,” she whispered. “I shall await your return with Sandra in the tower.”
John stood and walked toward the barbican gate. The crowd opened and let him pass. As soon as John was in range, Wessex came at him with the largest sword John had ever seen. The grip had room for two hands, but Wessex only needed one. He brandished it above his head before slashing it down as though it were a toy. The hardened steel clanged off John’s shoulder piece, but the impact resonated deep in his joint.
The crowd let out a collective oooh that echoed through the barbican gate.
John growled out a breath and sidestepped, focusing his anger. Henri had said his armor would stop any slashing or hacking, but John decided not to press his luck. Sooner or later Wessex would try thrusting, and John needed the fight to be over before that happened.
He backed away, lifting his own weapon to his shoulder. Its armored shaft fit his hands perfectly, and the weight of its head promised damage and pain wherever it made contact. The war hammer was aptly named. Not only did it have the hammer side, but it also had a perfectly tapered back end with a single tine that could concentrate the force of a strike right through an armor plate. The spike at the end of the shaft added thrusting to the weapon’s already extensive capabilities.
Wessex came at him again, this time with a horizontal slash from the right. John blocked it with the hammer handle, stepped inside, and clanged the hammerhead off Wessex’s helm. Wessex staggered back and lowered his sword arm.
John took the opportunity to swing the weapon in a full circle behind his head. The weight of the accelerating hammer pulled on his arms, and he gripped the shaft tighter with both hands. Wessex took a step back, and John let the weapon do another revolution. As the hammer head came around from behind, he lunged for Wessex and aimed the swing into his left elbow.
It impacted with a satisfying crash. Wessex’s shaped elbow piece pancaked under the pressure. John smiled and took a deep breath as Wessex tried to raise his sword arm. Henri had tried to teach him the names of the armor pieces in the short time they’d had, but in the end, John had just focused on learning the weak points.
“Damn you!” Wessex’s elbow armor was binding nicely on the surrounding pieces. He couldn’t flex the arm, making it effectively useless. Wessex deftly tossed the sword to his other hand and caught it, swinging the giant blade up toward John’s legs in a single movement.
John managed to bend his leg, and the blow glanced off one of the fins on the outside of his knee. That was too close. He swapped his grip and hammered at Wessex’s other elbow.
Wessex anticipated and took the blow on his chest-plate. Wessex’s sword came for John’s neck.
John tilted his head in the direction of the blow to make sure there was no gap between his helmet and chest-plate. As the blow struck, Wessex’s arm was extended, and John thrust his hammer up into the exposed armpit. Wessex’s armor absorbed most of the attack, but the hammer spike came away bloody.
Wessex backed away with his left hand under his right arm.
“Do you yield, sir?” John asked quietly, hoping he would not.
“Never!” Wessex raised his sword, but it came up slowly and only halfway. He couldn’t lift the shoulder.
John swung the hammer around behind his head. The hammer accelerated and came out on his right, aimed at Wessex’s helmet. Just before impact, John spun the hammer backwards, and the tapered end penetrated Wessex’s helmet like a can opener. The crowd gasped as Wessex collapsed to his knees and fell on his face.
John walked out of the barbican gate and across the field toward Raymond’s pavilion, leaving the weapon in Wessex’s skull. He told himself it had been for Jess, but deep down he knew it was really for him. This world had taken his baby, and anyone even remotely connected with her death would pay the ultimate price. He was still mad as hell.
Sandra stood at the tower window, listening desperately to the crowd below. She had no idea if John would even survive this ridiculous pas d’armes. Ever since Jess’s… She couldn’t say it, even to herself, but ever since then, John was different. She knew he was grieving, but it was more than that. His behavior was reckless and even a bit frightening. Didn’t that stupid, macho, selfish bastard of a man know that she and Mila needed him alive? She loved him, and she hated him, and he had to do something soon to help her decide which impulse was stronger.
Lady Evelyn appeared at the door, and a guard let her in. Sandra watched her close the door behind her. Lady Evelyn smiled briefly and walked over to Sandra.
“There are some things I need to say,” Sandra said before Evelyn could speak.
Lady Evelyn gestured for her to continue.
Sandra struggled to control the urge to tell the woman off. “I think you used to be in charge here. Henri obeys you as readily as he does Reginald.”
An unreadable look flickered across Lady Evelyn’s face, but it was enough to tell Sandra she was on the right track.
“Little brother hasn’t been doing a very good job of running the barony, and you’re here to set things right.” Sandra paused, but Evelyn had her mask back in place and revealed nothing. Sandra held up her hands. “I’m not judging. I get that you live in a harsh world, where men rule and women follow. You have to fight for everything you want with every means at your disposal. Believe me, it’s not much different where I come from. Women still have to fight for what they want. If we let our guard down, even for a second, the old prejudices resurface.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Lady Evelyn spoke softly.
“I am trying to say that you don’t have to pretend with me. I get it. If you want something from me, just ask for it. Hell, if I can think of a way to help, I’ll offer it.” Sandra touched Lady Evelyn’s arm. “But please, stop manipulating my family.” Sandra’s throat tightened up. She took a long breath to calm herself. “I need them alive.”
Sandra searched Lady Evelyn’s face for any sign of concession.
After an uncomfortable silence, Evelyn cleared her throat. “Mila is safe. I sent Raymond to watch over her on her journey.”
Sandra stifled the urge to hug her. She wasn’t quite sure how it would be received, so she simply said, “Thank you.”
Sandra waited for Evelyn to speak next, hoping she would fill the silence with her own thoughts. But Evelyn just stood there smiling back at her.
John started the long climb to the tower with his hood up and Henri by his side. When he reached the top of the stairs, Henri stood aside and let him enter first.
Sandra spun from the window where she stood with Lady Evelyn. “Are you all right?” Her eyes flitted down his body and back up to his face before they drained of concern. “Do you feel better now?”
“Yes, thank you.” He braced for what was to come. Sandra had been against the idea from the start, and of course she was right to be. It wasn’t going to bring Jess back, and it put him—and therefore her and Mila—at risk. But damn, it sure as hell felt good to see that shit-sack sink to the ground.
“Well, that makes one of us.” She crossed her arms.
“I’m sorry, babe. I won’t do it again,” said John.
“Yes, you will.”
She was right. She knew it and he knew it, and there was no point in denying it. As long as he breathed, anybody who harmed his family would pay.
“Thank you, John,” said Lady Evelyn. “Raymond’s honor is intact. I am indebted to you.”
“Okay, then let’s go.”
“That would not be wise.” Lady Evelyn shook her head.
“Why not?”
“Because Lady Mila will return here with or without the prize my brother seeks. If you are not here, she will face his anger alone.”
“She’s making sense,” said Sandra.
John clenched his fists. “I know. Dammit.” He huffed. “But… she’s out there. I can’t just sit around and do nothing. What’s the plan?”
“The plan?” Lady Evelyn glanced at Sandra.
“Yeah. If your brother decides to keep the money and not let us out, what’s our backup plan?”
“Back up?” Lady Evelyn smiled. “Why would we back up?”
“Seriously?” John took a calming breath. He was sure she was playing at not understanding him. “Our second plan. You know, if our first plan doesn’t work?”
“I am sure I do not know what you mean.” She glanced at Henri, still standing by the door, and stopped talking.
He had to assume Henri was not part of the backup plan.
Chapter Forty-Nine
April 30, 1341
Mila, Margaret, and Sir Raymond rode out of the forest at dusk and made their way across the fields. The castle loomed above the town, its tan and brown stonework a stark contrast to the surrounding green.
“Thank you for your help today, Sir Raymond.”
“You are welcome, Lady Mila.”
Mila had the MCV and the silver to buy her parents’ freedom, but something felt off. She should have been happy, but imminent failure hung over her like a blanket. She had no idea what she would do if Sir Reginald did not keep his word.
She glanced at Raymond. “If it were up to you, how would you negotiate my parents’ release?”
“I would not.”
What? Surely Raymond wasn’t about to flip-flop his allegiance already. He hadn’t yet had a chance to communicate with Lady Evelyn. “Why not?”
“It would not be necessary. I would simply rescue them.” Raymond stated it like it was a fact.
Of course, he would, but that was no help to Mila. She couldn’t rescue her parents. The guards knew what she looked like—they’d seen her leave. They would be expecting her. Unless… She smiled. “Exactly how would you rescue my parents?”
“Lady Mila, you do not possess the skill or the knowledge.”
“But you do, so share it with me,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone.
Raymond shook his head. “It takes a lifetime to develop the skills of a swordsman.”
“Yes, but it only takes a minute to share your knowledge of the castle.”
Raymond said nothing, and Mila gave him a m
oment to think. No doubt he was deciding if this would in any way contradict Lady Evelyn’s instructions to protect Mila.
“You can’t let me wander into the castle unprepared.” Mila gave him a mischievous smile and added, with as much innocence and light as she could muster, “Surely that would be the death of me.”
Raymond smiled.
“Tell me what I need to know.”
He nudged his horse closer to Mila’s and lowered his voice. “Evelyn says there is a narrow path that leads around the curtain wall along the clifftops at the back of the castle. You will come to a postern gate guarded by a giant idiot.”
“Why only one guy?” Mila interrupted. “That’s not very secure.”
“There is nothing but a cliff beyond that wall. No sizeable force could attack the gate. They would have to approach in single file.” Raymond closed his eyes and shook his head. “May I continue?”
Mila nodded. “Sorry.”
“Inside, there is a long passage and a set of stairs.”
Mila smiled and interrupted again. “Are you sure all this is necessary?”
“You said you wanted to sneak into the castle.”
“Yes, but why don’t you just come with me and show me the way? It would be the best way to ensure my safety.” Mila smiled. “N’est-ce pas?”
“Indeed.” Raymond broke out laughing. “C’est vrai.”
“There is just one more thing.” Mila pointed at the chest on the packhorse. “Where do we hide this while we’re in the castle?”
“They are very discreet at the Dover Dove,” Raymond nodded. “Lady Evelyn often makes use of their services.”
Once again, it all came down to trust. Mila was confident that Raymond could rescue her parents. The silver was just her backup plan. She would keep the MCV with her. That was her lifeline. “That sounds fine,” she said.
Raymond led them through the town gate and down a back alley to the stables behind the Dover Dove where he carried the silver up to Lady Evelyn’s room.
Mila held the door as he walked in and placed it on the floor. She beckoned Margaret in so she could close the hall door. “How’s your leg?”