Trusting in Faith - A Medieval Romance (The Sword of Glastonbury Series Book 5)

by Shea,Lisa

  Reynald’s face twisted in agony, but he drew to a stop. “Those bastards have her ... I cannot leave her to them!”

  Sarah lowered her sword, slowly taking a step forward. His right hand was clenched where it held his sword to one side; she put her hand on top of his, holding it tenderly. She looked up into his gaze, her eyes full of compassion.

  “Reynald, your sister needs your help. She needs you to rescue her, not to lose your life in futility. We need a larger force. If we are to save her - and her baby - we need to mount an attack.” Her voice dropped, and she moved even closer to him. “Trust me ... please. This is how we save them.”

  Reynald’s face reflected his indecision; she could see the tension in his jaw, through his neck. Then, all of a sudden, he let out a deep breath and nodded. He looked back up at her, his eyes shining with new focus. “Then we must hurry,” he insisted.

  Sarah needed no prodding. “Let me just make sure there are no more injured,” she requested in a rush, “while you get those two onto the horses.” Reynald nodded, and Sarah sprinted off to move amongst the fallen bodies.

  Sarah raced through the camp as quickly as she could. One after another, Sarah knelt by each prone shape, feeling for a pulse. Surely others must have been left alive besides Lloyd and Kyle? Each time she pressed a finger with fervent hope, and each time there was no answering throb. She stood and scanned the clearing – had she checked each one? There was another body by the far side of the campfire; she raced to reach him, quickly kneeling at his side.

  Suddenly there was a snarl and the flash of cold steel as a sharp dagger was pressed hard against her throat. She let out an involuntary cry which cut off short as the blade cut into her neck. She was dragged up to her feet by a strong arm.

  The low growl in her ear was rich with fury. “You whore - how dare you!”

  She flinched, and the knife slid tightly across her neck in warning. A thin stream of warm blood trickled down her throat, sliding along her skin.

  She fought down a rising panic. Her captor was much stronger than she was, and the dagger he held had already proven its sharp edge. Her hands hung uselessly at her side as he slowly dragged her backwards. She was completely at his mercy. She had no say at all in her own life or death. The helplessness of her situation threatened to overwhelm her, and she fought to think, to think ...

  The man behind her gave her a shake, breaking up her efforts. His voice rang with hatred. “They are still warm, and yet you -”

  A low, calm voice echoed across the clearing.

  “You have made a mistake.”

  Sarah’s heart stopped. She lifted her eyes in desperate hope.

  Reynald stood across the campfire in a casual stance. His hand rested loosely on his sword hilt, the sword point down in the ground. His eyes slid to meet hers for a moment, and she breathed in the strength of their reassurance before he returned to gaze steadily at her captor.

  “This woman is not responsible for the attack,” he added with certainty.

  “She was apparently willing to profit from it!” shot back Sarah’s assailant with venom. His hands shook with fury. “I have never seen such a vulture in action!”

  Reynald’s eyes remained quiet, soothing. “She is a healer,” he countered evenly. “You can ask Kyle and Lloyd, the two men she has already bandaged up. She was only hoping for more survivors to help.”

  The hand at her throat wavered for a moment. “I myself came back for Kyle and Lloyd,” the man slowly admitted. “The other men who survived are all in safety; they were the last two left behind.”

  “We will bring these two with us,” reassured Reynald, “and return shortly with a force to rescue the hostages. However, before anything can be done, you must let the healer go.”

  His voice was calm, but Sarah could see the coiled power in his stance. He would be at her side in a moment if things went badly. Her eyes moved from his strong hand, resting with deceptive ease on the hilt of his sword … the tense muscles in his sword arm … the set of his shoulders … he was everything she could hope for, and it might not be enough. The man behind her could still slay her with one draw of the knife, and there would be nothing she could do about it, nothing Reynald could do. The panic rose again.

  Reynald’s eyes flicked again to meet hers, and she could viscerally feel the silent promise in them, the reassurance that he was there, that everything would be all right. She lost herself in his eyes, allowing herself to believe completely in him. Then, in a heartbeat, he was staring again at her captor, all attention focused on the man’s slightest movements.

  A long moment passed. Reynald’s voice dropped into a lower, more steely bass. “Let her go,” he ordered the man, the command clear, the threat palpable.

  For a passage of time the world stood still. Sarah could hear every breath her attacker took as he considered his options. Reynald’s eyes narrowed infinitesimally, and she could see his hand tighten on the sword at his side.

  Then, with a smooth movement, the knife at her throat was lifted away. She was free.

  Reynald put out his left hand, and Sarah did not hesitate. She ran pell-mell into his arms, felt his left arm close tightly around her as she pressed herself hard against his chest. She began to tremble and closed her eyes tightly, willing herself to remain calm. She knew she should get behind him; leave him free to fight, but she could not bring herself to leave the safety of his embrace.

  The harsh voice came again from behind her, slightly penitent. “You talk of soldiers; I assume you must come from the keep. If you can truly bring back a rescue party, we will join with your force to go after them,” the man promised resolutely. “We will wait here until dawn. If you are not here by then, we will delay no further, however. We will go without you.”

  There was the sound of footsteps heading off into the woods, then silence.

  Sarah sighed in relief as Reynald’s arms pulled her in more tightly. She relished the encompassing feeling of the embrace. She was safe, secure … she did not want the moment to end. Her breath came out of her in long, low shuddering moans.

  After several minutes a pair of lips tenderly rested against her forehead, and then she was gently pressed back a step. “Are you all right?” asked Reynald with concern. His eyes moved to the wound at her neck, and his eyes narrowed in anger.

  Sarah absently wiped the back of her hand against the thin cut. “It is nothing,” she reassured him. She drew in several long, cleansing breaths, her center returning. The burnt out camp around her seeped back into her awareness. She tried to shake off the spell of Reynald’s presence, to focus on the problems around them. “Really, I am fine. We have other things to worry about right now. Let us get the two men mounted, and get home.”

  Reynald laid his hand gently against her cheek for a moment, then nodded and turned with her. They moved quickly back to Lloyd and Kyle. Between the two of them, they managed to get the two injured men up onto the horses. Sarah put herself before Lloyd, instructing him to hold tightly onto her waist. Then, as soon as everyone was set, they headed back toward the keep.

  The ride seemed interminable. The injured men tried their best not to complain, but with their injuries the travel was sheer torture. Sarah and Reynald had to stop several times to allow the men to rest rather than faint from the pain.

  It was nearly nightfall by the time the keep gates came into view. Sarah called out for help as soon as they neared the gates and soon the entire household was roused. Rachel, Christopher, and Mathilde were drawn out with the rest, streaming in waves over to the stables to help with the injured men. Rachel’s eyes lit up with interest when she saw Lloyd holding onto Sarah tightly on the back of the horse. She ran over to their side at once.

  “Here, let me help you down,” she called up with enthusiastic concern, offering her arm to Lloyd. He stumbled down wearily, and as soon as he had gained his feet Sarah climbed down after him. Rachel ducked under one of Lloyd’s arms to support him, moving with him in the direction of t
he main keep.

  Sarah left Lloyd to her care and ran over to Kyle, who had been helped from his horse by Reynald. The two were talking quietly, and were joined by two of the castle’s guards. As Sarah drew close, the guards each took up one of Kyle’s arms and helped him struggle toward the building. Reynald turned to face Sarah and her father, now side by side in the stable’s main hall.

  “Kyle confirms that there was a Templar with the attackers, as I feared,” stated Reynald, his face cold and shuttered. “The men were attempting to forcefully merge the wanderers into their own group. When the leaders refused, death was the only other option. The Templar apparently took the women and children to bolster their power, to hold them as hostages in return for money and food.”

  Christopher nodded in understanding, his gaze serious. His voice was sharp with decision. “It is long past time for us to do something about these wolves’ heads,” he agreed. He turned his head. “Cedric, call in all of the forces,” he ordered. “We leave as soon as possible.”

  The burly man saluted and sped off toward a nearby group of soldiers.

  Christopher then turned back to Reynald. “It will undoubtedly take several hours for the men to be brought in from the villages. Come in and fortify yourself with some food and drink. I imagine it will be a very long night.”

  Together they moved into the main hall, where the kitchen staff scurried into action. Soon mead and chicken were brought out, as well as bread and cheese. Sarah wolfed it down hungrily; she had forgotten how long it had been since she ate last. Small groups of men began to arrive in twos and threes from neighboring villages. They seemed eager to join the action, chomping at the bit to head out for the rescue.

  Time sped by in a blur, with guards coming and going, the story being told and retold to each new arrival. Reynald finished his meal quickly, and then turned to Sarah, his eyes serious.

  “Once I rescue Abigail and the baby, I want to be prepared. If Abigail is unconscious, what should I check the baby for, and what should I do to help her survive until we get them back here to you?”

  Sarah’s mouth hung open in shock. “You, tend to an infant? Back here to me? I am going with you!”

  Reynald’s eyes widened in surprise. “No,” he responded flatly. “You are not.”

  Sarah shot to her feet. “You are in no position to tell me what to do,” she insisted hotly. “I know these lands intimately, as you do not. I have been to that camp more times than I can count – could you even find it? To think that I could tell you in a few minutes how to care for an injured baby!”

  Reynald rose to his feet, his eyes steadily on hers. “My sister is already in grave danger,” he replied, his voice tight. “There is no way that I would possibly subject you -”

  “Subject, my foot,” huffed Sarah in anger. “I will go where I wish to go, and I will not be stopped by the likes of -”

  Sarah’s father rose to put his hands placatingly between the couple. “Please, now, we must head out soon, and we need to be as cohesive as we can. There is a serious battle ahead of us; this is no simple bandit group we face.”

  He looked fondly at his daughter. “Sarah, I know that if we try to forbid you to come with us that you will simply trail behind our group. You know I have great respect for your skills. However, you must also acknowledge that compared to the serious training of a Templar, you are as lacking as many of our guards in defense.”

  “Yet your guards are going with you,” snapped Sarah, her eyes sparking.

  “They are,” agreed her father. “If one of them gets into trouble, we handle it as part of the plan. However, if you get into trouble, the entire line will fold, because the men will abandon all else to rescue you. You are that dear to them.”

  Sarah sulkily dropped her eyes. “That’s hardly my fault,” she growled.

  Her father gently patted her shoulder. “I might beg to differ, but be that as it may, the men adore you.” He fondly smiled at her. “So this is my compromise. You may come with us.”

  “What?” cried Reynald, clearly outraged at the idea. “Surely it would be -”

  Sarah’s father cut him off with a stern glance. “Believe me, Reynald, she will come whether we say yea or nay.” He turned to face his daughter. “However, you will swear this vow on the Bible. The moment we come into a situation of conflict, you will retreat to a safe distance and remain there until all fighting is over.”

  Sarah’s heart ached as if he had wrenched it from her chest. “I can help!” she insisted plaintively. “I know I am no match for a Templar’s sword. I accept that. What if it is just a regular bandit guard? What if it is a scout, about to warn -”

  “No,” instructed her father, cutting short all discussion. “Any situation can escalate, and any other guard here can take care of the dangers you mentioned. Either you agree to these terms, or I swear I will lock you in the cellars until we return.”

  Sarah’s blood ran cold, and her face went white with shock. “You would not dare ...”

  Her father did not say a word, and she knew in the depths of her heart that yes, he would do that, if she forced him to. Her emotions swirled in a maelstrom. If she made such a vow, she would be obliged to follow it. What if it came down to a life or death choice, and her father’s life hung in the balance? What if it was Reynald’s life at risk?

  She turned to look up at Reynald. His eyes were rich with concern. She realized in an instant that she would rather be by his side - no matter under what restrictions - than trapped in the keep praying for his safe return. She did not hesitate a moment further.

  “I swear, on the Holy Bible, that I will stay out of any conflict,” she vowed solemnly, her eyes fixed on his.

  Reynald’s gaze took on a haunted look, and he reached out a hand to take hers. Her father discreetly drew away, allowing them a measure of privacy. Sarah moved to stand near Reynald, and a warmth flowed through her at his nearness.

  Reynald’s voice was hoarse. “Sarah, this is going to be very dangerous.” His eyes moved to her throat, lingering on the cut which still gave a faint throb of pain. “I cannot begin to express how courageous it is that you wish to help my sister. But I would not put you both in peril.”

  Sarah’s eyes flashed. “I have already sworn to stay out of any fight,” she reminded him fiercely. “You will not get any more from me.”

  His hand moved tenderly to her cheek, shushing her. She half-closed her eyes, leaning against his touch. “I know that ... I know that,” he murmured. “Please, just stay safe. For me.”

  “For you,” she echoed gently, and for a moment it almost seemed that he was going to draw her in against him. Then there was a loud cheer as another force arrived, and Reynald was called over for introductions.

  Sarah glanced around for her mother and sister; she could not find either in the crowded room. She made her way through the throng to her father’s side.

  “They are in the infirmary,” replied her father shortly to the query. “Where you should be, I might add.” He turned to give final instructions to Cedric, who stood at attention by his side.

  Sarah took a step back, stung by his remark. It was true, of course. She had years of medical experience; she could be a help to the injured men currently under their care.

  She shook her head, moving to the stairs to gather supplies from her room. There might be a few wounded men currently in the keep, but the upcoming fight promised to provide many more patients needing her attention. If she were at the actual battle site, she could save men who might otherwise be lost.

  By the time she came downstairs again, the men were massing in the courtyard, many of them mounted. Lou had already prepared her steed for her, and she smiled at him in thanks as she pulled herself up and got settled for the long ride ahead. In a few moments the group was heading out through the main gates.

  Sarah led them through the darkness straight toward the camp, all thought of secrecy long gone. They were thirty men strong, with many seasoned fighters in the
mix. A few were concerned to hear that a woman would accompany them, but when it was explained that only Sarah knew where the camp was, and had been to the area many times, they reluctantly accepted her as a guide.

  The time passed quickly as they thundered through the night, riding past village and forest in a blur of motion. It seemed that no time at all had passed before they were back at the location of the burnt tents and smoking ruins. A group of twenty armed men awaited them in the clearing, their eyes glowing with fierce anger. The motley crew gave brief greetings to the incoming keep’s forces before forming up to move out.

  Christopher turned to his daughter as the milling men settled into order. “It is time for you to take the rear position,” he ordered in a low voice. “We will be following their trail from here.” Sarah bit her tongue and complied without response. She knew she was lucky to be there, and did not want to question him in front of the troops. Reynald and her father took positions at the front of the team and waved them to start into motion.

  It was not difficult to pick up the path of the attackers. The bandit group had moved north, leaving behind a clear trail, even in the moonlight. The pursuers followed the route over a stream, down a long ravine, and up through a clearing.

  As the night wore on, the group eased to a slower pace. Each member watched the forest with sharp eyes, careful to ensure they did not miss any turnings of one or more in the party off of the main path.

  Sarah had ridden these trails many times over the years and did her best to watch at open junctures for stray footprints, faint marks in the moonlight. Maybe a child had gotten away … maybe a mother had left a token for them to follow. The group headed past a burbling brook, then turned down into the base of a narrow valley.

  Something struck Sarah as odd, and she rolled it around in her mind. She knew this ravine well. There was always a large partridge flock nestled in here for the night. Why were they not scattering at the troop’s movements, as they always did when she rode through in the dark? She drew her horse to a stop for a moment, looking around to reassure herself that she was not mistaken about their location.