by Shea,Lisa
It certainly was the ravine; she remembered that stony outcropping quite clearly. There, behind it, a glint of metal in the moonlight …
“Reynald!” she cried out in alarm, instinctively starting forward.
There was a flash of motion.
A wave of men flooded in from the left and right, drawing a loop closed around the soldiers. Her companions reacted in a heartbeat. Swords flew out of their scabbards, and the area became locked in combat, the noise of steel on steel ringing out all around her.
Reynald swung his mount in a circle, clearing away the two attackers who had descended on him. His eyes sought out Sarah’s and held them for a long heartbeat. Sarah nodded to him in resolution, understanding his plea. Every ounce of muscle in her body insisted that she fly down to help, join in the defense, but she held herself still. She determinedly backed her horse up to a higher location, making sure she could be seen by her father and Reynald, staying well away from the attack.
She watched, heart in throat, as Reynald leapt from his horse and cleared a path through the bandits. His sword moved with sure precision, his muscular body cycling through positions in an easy flow as he overtook each enemy in turn. He seemed aware of every man around him, and several times stepped in to help shield a companion from attack before turning to take on a new opponent.
Dragging her eyes away from his progress, Sarah turned to scan the combatants for her father. She finally spotted him at the far end of the field, locked in combat with a muscular man several inches taller than he was.
Sarah blanched in fear, her fingers tightening on the reins. She had always idolized her father as an invincible fighter, a man who could not be bested. However, his opponent seemed far more capable than the rabble of bandits around him. The burly attacker swung his sword with precision, laying down a series of thrusts that her father only barely fended off.
Sarah was nearly overwhelmed by the urge to race into action. She harshly reminded herself again to stay out of the fray. If she went down into the raging battle, she would only serve to distract the men who desperately needed to stay focused. Her own skills and additional blade could hardly make up for the disruption her presence would cause.
Still, to see her father in trouble ...
Her eyes sharpened, and she gazed down at the battlefield in confusion. Suddenly it seemed as if her father’s opponent had two weapons. Was it a mere shadow? There was the sword in his right hand ... and what was that ...
The man turned sideways, and the moonlight hit him more clearly. She now saw that he held a thick wooden branch hidden behind his back, clutched tightly in his left hand. He sprang into motion, spinning it with great force at her father’s knee. She thought she could hear the loud crack as his leg broke, even over the cries and clangs of combat filling the night.
“Father!” she screamed out in anguish, stretched to the breaking point.
Reynald instantly looked up at her call, then followed the direction of her gaze to where her father now collapsed to the ground. In a heartbeat he was running full tilt, interjecting himself between the attacker and her father. She cried out in relief, her knuckles turning white with the strain of watching.
The battle slowly eased into quiet; most of the bandits had either been slain or had run off. Only Reynald and his opponent remained, slowly circling each other.
“Bruce. I should have known it would be you,” growled Reynald, his voice carrying easily in the night air.
Bruce dramatically shrugged, spinning his blade in his grip. His blonde-white hair shone in the moonlight. “Reynald the dutiful,” he taunted. “So it has been you hounding us this whole way.” He seemed an equal match to Reynald’s height and build. Sarah glanced between the two men in nervous apprehension.
Reynald eyed his fellow Templar with smoldering anger. “You were tainted even in the Holy Land. There were always reports of missing items when you escorted pilgrims down your stretch of road.”
“As well there should have been,” Bruce chuckled in return. “Those pilgrims were wealthy beyond measure, and we were putting our lives on the line for them! They could easily afford to pay us ten times what I took.”
“You made a vow,” snapped Reynald. “You swore to protect the innocent.”
Bruce lunged without warning. The two men crossed blades in clanging reverberation several times before they separated and circled each other again.
“You were always far too loyal to those vows,” sneered Bruce. “Live a little. Life is too short to take too seriously.”
Reynald swung his blade into a high position. “Life is too short to be without honor,” he responded crisply, his eyes focused.
Bruce laughed out loud. “Then let me help make yours even shorter.” Without another word, he launched into a fully involved attack.
Sarah was transfixed by the flurry of swords. Both men were consummate soldiers, blocking and striking with the speed of a cobra. They turned and twisted, rolling beneath a slicing blow, spinning from a lunging attack.
The fight caught her absolute attention, and the world fell away. Reynald ducked under a vicious strike, turning to spin his blade at Bruce’s calf. Bruce leapt back with only inches to spare, and was swinging a fresh assault in the same movement. Sarah gasped, sure the sword would connect with Reynald’s arm, but somehow he twisted aside, only a thin red line tracing along the arc of the blade. He threw a shoulder hard into Bruce’s side, and the men blurred into motion anew.
Sarah held her breath. She could not tell if either man was gaining ground as they spun in a whirlwind of moving blades. She watched, fixated on each movement, praying that Reynald would make it through.
The men slammed together with a loud crash, and she could not tell where the blades landed. Then suddenly the pair was staggering apart, both men unsteadily weaving.
Sarah’s world came to a screeching halt, and her heart thundered from her chest. Was Reynald hurt? Was it a serious injury? She strained forward, desperate to see …
Bruce took a menacing step toward Reynald, and a cry escaped from her lips. It could not be …
As she watched, frozen, Bruce’s forward foot failed under his weight. He timbered forward, falling in slow motion, landing hard on his face with a thud. There was an echo of the sound, and then he lay still, unmoving.
Reynald stood alone at the center of the clearing, standing over his fallen fellow knight, his face weary with sadness.
Sarah hesitated one moment, then two, then her knees were driving into her steed’s flanks, driving him into a hard gallop. Reynald moved with fatigued slowness to talk with the nearby group of solders. He seemed all right … suddenly her father’s more serious injury hammered at her attention.
She raced her horse down the slope, driving directly toward Christopher’s side. As she reached the edge of the group surrounding him, she was off her mount in an instant, grabbing her bag and sprinting at top speed. She slid to a stop alongside her father and pulled aside his leggings.
Her father gasped out in pain. “It seems to be broken.” He slumped back against the ground.
Sarah could see that clearly. She called out to whoever was nearby, “I will need some sturdy branches to build a splint -”
A calm voice answered by her side. “Already have them.”
She glanced up to meet Reynald’s eyes, and she let out a deep sigh. She owed him so much already ...
“Thank you,” she offered him, putting all of her emotion and feeling into those two words. She saw that his smile of acknowledgement understood her meaning, and as he handed her the pieces of wood, he held her hands for a moment.
“No, thank you for staying out of the fight,” he responded. “I can only imagine how hard that was for you. I know if it were me, it would have eaten me up alive.”
Sarah blushed crimson and turned her face down to the task at hand. She quickly cleaned up her father’s wound as best she could, then wrapped and splinted it. Soon Reynald and another soldier were helping hi
m onto his horse.
Sarah looked around. A number of the other guards were injured as well, although none as seriously as her father. She moved from man to man, tending them as best she could, preparing them for travel home.
Finally done with the last injury, she stood wearily and surveyed the scene. The soldiers had gathered up the bandit bodies and draped them over the horses to bring them back to town and have them identified. Everybody appeared ready to move out.
Reynald and her father, both already mounted, were deep in conversation at the head of the group. She walked briskly over to Reynald’s side, scanning the two men as she went. Reynald’s arm had the red scratch running down its length, but the blood had already begun drying. He appeared otherwise unhurt. Her father’s leg was well bandaged and he was seated on his horse with the help of a wedged blanket.
The two broke off their discussion at her approach. She looked between the two men in concern.
“I know I am here only as a nurse, but I hope you are deciding to retreat and gather more men, rather than to press on with what we have left …?”
Reynald sighed, but nodded. “Yes, I have accepted that,” he admitted. “It can be discussed when we return to the keep, how best to mount this attack.” His look slid over to Bruce’s body, draped over a nearby horse. “We did take out one of the captains, however. That, at least, should make it easier to finish off the assault the next time.”
Cedric came over leading Sarah’s horse, and she mounted. In a moment the group started into motion.
The troop headed back toward the keep, making their way slowly but steadily through the night. Sarah stayed alongside her father, checking to make sure he was alert and upright in the saddle. It was nearly dawn before they came to the gates, but despite the early hour the entire keep’s inhabitants waited tensely in the courtyard, eager for news.
Mathilde flew forward at the sight of her husband in bandages, drawing him into her arms as he carefully dismounted.
His face creased in pain. “It is all right; it is only my leg,” he hoarsely reassured her. He did not argue as she insistently helped him move toward the main keep doors, calling for the doctor to assist her with her husband.
Sarah watched them hobble away, her brow furrowed with concern. She had always thought of her father as able to take on any challenge. To see him so ruthlessly injured ... she shook her head, wearily lowering herself from her own mount, gathering up the strength to tend to the injured.
A squealing form ran past her, and she turned to see her sister, barely dressed in a bright red wrap, running to embrace Reynald. “You saved my father! How can I ever thank you?” the blonde apparition cried out in adoration. “You are so strong, so brave. Please, let me get you some ale. Would you rather have wine or mead? Just tell me what you want and it is yours.” She snuggled against him in delight.
Sarah’s cheeks flared pink with shame, and she strode to the far side of the courtyard, burying herself in the work of bandages and poultices. The scene replayed over and over in her mind as she tended to the injured. She flushed with embarrassment over her sister’s blatant behavior.
Yet, as she turned over the situation in her mind, she had to admit that another part of her echoed the feelings Rachel had so boldly displayed. She was giddy with relief that Reynald had saved her father. She shone with overwhelming admiration for how Reynald fought during the battle, helping all those around him.
She knew that a large part of her was jealous of Rachel. Her sister was able to unabashedly shout out emotions that Sarah held trapped, hidden, in her own heart.
Finally each man was tended to and under the care of the doctors. Sarah pushed the hair back from her brow and stumbled through the main doors, heading to the stairs which led up to the bedchambers.
She paused as she reached the steps up to her room, then shook her head. She was not ready for sleep yet. Despite her body’s exhaustion, she was emotionally keyed up even as dawn stretched its first fingers of light across the horizon. She would not be able to fall asleep, not for a while yet.
Resigned, she moved through the keep and out the back doors, making her way to a stone bench by her garden. Perhaps if she sat for a while her mind would settle and let her body rest.
She watched as light slowly filtering across the landscape, listened as the first birds added their song to the world. There were so many thoughts jumbling in her mind. Thoughts of her father fighting for his life, the bandit looming over him. Thoughts of her inability to move, trapped on the outcropping, watching events play out. The image of Reynald, swift and sure, riding in to the rescue …
The images took on a dream-like quality. In her dream, Reynald turned to look at her, surrounded by the fray. His eyes met hers, and he saluted her. He was her protector … he was her partner …
It was as if a warm light was suddenly shining down on her, illuminating her in its glow. She knew what she had to do. She had to tell him how she felt. She had to tell him before it was too late. Her whole life was about truth, and honesty, and this was her test.
A rough voice sounded at her ear. “Good God, Sarah.”
Sarah blinked her eyes, the gritty surface of the stone bench pressing against her cheek. Reynald was kneeling down beside her, his eyes bright with concern. “Sarah, have you been out here since we came back?”
It was still early morning, and a gentle mist swirled around the gazebo. Reynald had changed into the outfit he wore for his morning practice. Apparently even a night-long combat was not enough to dissuade him from his dawn routines.
Sarah sleepily rubbed at her eyes, pushing herself wearily up to a sitting position. “I wanted to talk with you,” she explained fuzzily, her thoughts not quite connecting together.
Reynald’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Talk with me about what? Could it not wait until after you had a decent sleep? You must be exhausted!”
Sarah shook her head. “It could not wait.”
Her eyes drew into focus, and she found herself eye to eye with Reynald, her hands held in his. His eyes were tender with concern. He did not press. With infinite patience, he knelt by her side, waiting for her to begin.
Sarah’s mouth went dry. The man before her emanated strength. It was not just his broad shoulders and well-muscled form. It was the knowledge that he would stand by his vows, that he would speak the truth. She had wanted to praise him for his efforts of the night before, to thank him whole heartedly for rescuing her father from certain death. Yet, at his steady gaze, all such thoughts fled her mind, and only one remained.
I love you.
Reynald blinked in surprise, and Sarah blushed as crimson as a rose in full bloom. She immediately looked down, lost in confusion. She had not spoken the words aloud, but she wondered how clearly the message had projected in her eyes. She had not meant to let him know the depth of her feelings. Her dream aside, she did not have the strength to broach that subject. Not with his stay here numbering in hours. Not with Rachel …
She struggled to find her voice, keeping her eyes lowered.
“I wanted to tell you ... how grateful I am for what you did last night,” she stated, her voice weary. “It was an honor to see your strength in action. I know I speak for everyone here when I thank you for saving my father’s life.”
Reynald put a hand beneath her chin and slowly raised her face to meet his own gaze. “I know how much strength it took you to remain still, to wait for the area to clear before coming down,” he replied tenderly.
His eyes remained focused on her own, searching for something ...
Sarah turned her head again, unwilling to have him see more than she wished to share. She was exhausted. “I should probably get to sleep now,” she yawned, her body completely drained of energy. “I will leave you to your morning routine.”
She allowed Reynald to help her stand, but then waved him off, making her way to the door. “I am fine from here,” she insisted. “Please, go on with your practice.”
It took
all her strength to turn her back on him, to make her way alone up the stairs and into her room.
Chapter 19
Sarah slept straight through the day and into the night. By the time she had come down for food the next morning, Reynald and her father were deep in conversation with several of the guard captains. Her father looked older than she had remembered, bundled into a large chair by the main table, his leg well wrapped in bandages. Her mother sat to his side, a look of quiet concern on her face.
Her father looked up. “The group is going to Dorrie’s. A messenger has already been sent,” he announced without preamble as Sarah entered the room. “Yes, you can go with them, to set up a medical base at the keep there. Your skills will undoubtedly be quite useful. That keep is the most central location for a larger force to gather. They can be ready to leave from there in two day’s time.”
Rachel’s voice rung out with delight. “This is wonderful - I will go too, then!” she cried. “I have not seen Walter in many years!”
“No,” snapped her father.
Rachel blinked in surprise, staring at him.
He gave her a weary smile. “You know that would not be appropriate,” he added in a quieter tone of voice.
Rachel plunked back down in her chair, her face sullen. “I do not see why she can go and I have to stay behind,” she grumped. “That is not fair at all.”
Reynald turned to Rachel, his voice gentle. “We will only be gone a few days. I am sure we all will greatly appreciate the homecoming preparations you have made for us at that time.”
Rachel brightened at this, and Sarah bit her tongue. It was Rachel’s own doing that the tense situation existed between her, Walter, and Dorrie, but she imagined that Rachel did not see it that way at all. She gave quiet thanks that her father had set down the rule, rather than leaving it to her to tackle.
Sarah quickly ate and dressed, gathering up the supplies she would need. Her practiced haste served her well; when she went down into the main hall with her gear she found the forces still in disarray. It was clear it would be another hour or two before the group was ready to move out.