"Yea, m'lord," Judith replied, watching him rush off toward the stairs.
* * *
A thorough search of the castle was made once Amery learned that no one had seen Jewel in more than an hour or knew where she had gone after she had given Ella to the maid, and his worry increased. But his anger erupted once Rickward informed him that Hadwin was nowhere to be found either. He had assumed she bad gone off alone and that tracking her down would be simple enough since she was not familiar with the land surrounding Burchard and getting off the Isle of Wight would be quite difficult for her. Now it was a different matter. Hadwin knew exactly where to take her, and with the advantage they had, it was possible they were already boarding the galley that would take them to the mainland. Ordering all but Rickward and Stafford to stay behind and secure the castle, Gunther told Amery they would meet him at the stables once they had donned their armor. A few minutes later, the four knights thundered across the drawbridge and out into the snowy darkness.
"Ease thy worries, Amery," Gunther said after they had traveled a mile or so in silence. "We will find them,"
"Will we?" Amery challenged. "The snow is deep and still falling. Even the night is our enemy. I fear we wander in circles while they board the ship that will take them further out of reach."
"Yea, 'tis true we cannot see their tracks, but we know where they are headed, and 'tis in that direction we shall journey, and quickly. Our advantage is Lady Jewel. She is not strong enough to travel at the pace we set, and Hadwin is too blind with love to push her to the limit."
"Love," Amery scoffed. "His love will be the death of him."
"Do not speak so, friend," Gunther begged. "He is foolish, yea, but his love for her will protect her."
"Against Radolf's army?" Amery exploded. "For that is what they will surely face once they reach Harcourt. He will slay them both without a care."
"We will catch them long before your half brother has the chance," Gunther promised. "And when we do, I beg you to understand young Had win's reasons for helping Jewel. He did not know the whole of it, or he would have done as you and I and kept your betrothed at Burchard."
The fierce frown on Amery's brow softened somewhat. "Yea, her beauty and gentle manner have a way of infecting a man's mind. Even I fell victim for a tune." His green eyes darkened. "But no more."
Amery's declaration worried Gunther, and he had opened his mouth to question Amery's meaning when Rickward shouted and drew everyone's attention to the vague light up ahead at the side of the road.
"A campfire, Gunther," he said, pointing a finger. "Over there. Perhaps—"
But his observation was never completely stated, for Amery had already kicked his destrier into a full gallop and was racing down the road toward the spot, his heart pounding nearly as loudly as the horse's hooves against the hard earth. Yet, once he had ridden close enough to see the gruesome sight of blood against the snow and that Hadwin's life had ended in such a brutal manner, he jerked back hard on the reins, his body stiffening in rage.
"Dear God in Heaven," he heard Stafford cry as the man reined in his animal beside him and hurriedly dismounted. "Who would do such a thing?"
"Amery?" Gunther called, riding in with Rickward. "Amery?"
A long silence followed while the brothers left their steeds and went to their cousin, each in turn shedding their helms and kneeling by the slain man's body. And beside Amery, Gunther vowed revenge.
"Orton will pay for this," he growled through clenched teeth. "He will rue the day he stepped upon the soil of my lands and took the life of one so dear to all of us."
"Twas not your enemy, Gunther,' but mine," Amery breathed low, hatred gleaming in his emerald eyes. " 'Twas one of Radolf's knights who did this, and now he has Jewel as well." He pointed to the tracks in the snow. "See there? The prints are tiny, as Jewel's would be, then larger ones follow. She has escaped him, but not for long."
Studying the marks, Gunther agreed. "But they are afoot. Why did they not take horses?"
Amery thus indicated the direction where the steeds had gone. " 'Twould be my guess that the battle that raged here sent them running in fear." The nose guard of his helm masked the angry look that came over his face. "And Jewel as well," he hissed, then turned to face his friend. "Journey back to Burchard and see to Hadwin's. burial. I will avenge his death and rescue Jewel."
"Nay, Amery. You will not go alone. I will accompany you. Rickward and Stafford will see to their cousin's interment. He was my knight, and I shall be the one to strike the fatal blow to his executioner."
"The way may be long and cold, and we have not prepared for such a journey," Amery cautioned. "'Twould do no one any good if we were both to perish in our task. I ask you to think on it and see the wisdom of my words. Return to Burchard and, by morning light, bring an army to follow with food and fur pelts for warmth. The way will be clearly marked. I shall see to it."
Gunther made to argue, then turned his head away, remaining silent for a moment longer. "Yea, Amery, your way is best," he said. "But I will not wait until morning light. We shall return to this spot and take up the hunt?"
"And wander about in the darkness?" Amery posed. "Wait until the morning, Gunther." Without giving his friend a chance to argue, Amery dismounted and approached the fire, there to lift a burning log to light the way. His horse's reins held in one hand, the torch in the other, he moved away from his companions and toward the trail of footprints leading away from the road and further into the dense woods surrounding him.
The sight of Hadwin's mutilated body scorched his brain, and Amery found himself blinking repeatedly in an effort to erase it from his mind. But again and again the vision haunted him, and he suddenly realized it wasn't the savageness of the young knight's death that tortured him but the thought that Jewel might meet the same end if he did not find her soon ... if she had not already.
He had trodden through the ankle-deep snow for nearly a hundred yards before he noticed droplets of blood beside the footprints, and he stopped suddenly, afraid to go on. They very well could belong to Jewel. Damn his pride and stubbornness for playing with her! Their games could have cost her life!
"And the one responsible will pay with his own," he hissed, setting off again at a faster pace.
The snow was falling more heavily now and was filling up the tracks he followed, making them nearly impossible to see. The log he carried had burned down to a glowing ember, offering little light, and he angrily flung it away. His fingers were cold beneath the gauntlets he wore, and he paused to pull off his gloves and blow warmth into his cupped hands while he decided what he should do next. Slowly glancing all around him, he studied the dark shapes of the trees and rocks, wondering if Jewel wandered aimlessly through the woods or had a destination in mind. Or perhaps the man who pursued her had made that decision for her. As he stood there contemplating his next move and listening to the deathly quiet that surrounded him, his charger suddenly reared its head and snorted loudly, bringing Amery's attention around. Something had frightened the steed, and although Amery could not see what it was or hear a sound from anywhere close by, he sensed he was not alone. Dropping his gauntlets in the snow, he pulled his sword from his scabbard and backed away from the nervous animal, his mind quick and alert.
A movement to his right caught his eye, and he turned to face it, his weapon held ready for battle as he inwardly cursed the darkness that encased him. All the shadows looked the same, and until whoever was out there made a move and revealed himself, Amery would have to trust his instincts. The moments seemed to drag out. Every muscle in his body grew tense, but only his eyes moved to survey the dark shapes before him. Finally, a huge form stepped out from behind a tree about twenty feet away from him, and for a moment Amery was confused. The man wore a monk's robe.
"Halt and state thy name," Amery said when the man started toward him.
The menacing figure, appearing grateful for the chance to pause and lean against the tree, did as he had been bid
den. "'Tis well known to you, Sir Amery," he said, slowly raising one hand to push the hood of his robe off his head. "I am Ian of Wellington, knight to Lady Edlyn and messenger of death."
It had been many years since Amery had last seen Ian, but his voice and size were unmistakably familiar, and the words he spoke convinced him that he had been right all along about the slaughter at Harcourt. He quickly scanned the woods on either side of the knight for another's presence.
"I am alone, Amery," Ian confessed, sounding tired and drawn.
"And Lady Jewel? Where is she?"
A thick-muscled arm was lifted to indicate the encompassing forest. "Out there ... somewhere. I know not which direction she took."
"Hast thou harmed her?" Amery growled.
"Nay." A heavy sigh escaped him, and Ian fell against the tree, then slowly slid along the trunk to sit on the ground. He remained quiet for several moments as if his thoughts were difficult to sort and the words slow to form. Then he laughed. "'Tis fitting, I suppose, that she will be the one to bring about my end," he said, resting his head back against the tree trunk;
"She is the innocent and should not be made to pay for another's greed."
"Radolf's," Amery finished.
"And Lady Edlyn," he said, turning his head to look at Amery. "More so the latter."
"Then you know the truth about Harcourt?"
"I was there," he replied, closing his eyes and leaning back against the tree again. "I have always been there. I have seen every evil thing Lady Edlyn has done, and still I love her." His huge body shook, and when he spoke again, his voice was tight with tears. "She poisoned my friend, and I did naught to stop her. She abused the child I had grown to love as a son. She ordered the deaths of trusting friends, and I did naught to stop her!" His outburst seemed to cause him a great deal of pain, for he winced and quickly raised a hand to his brow. "I have killed many whose crimes were only that they stood in her way. I am more evil than she, for I knew the difference and went blindly on, thinking each time I would win her love." His hand dropped to his side. "Oh, but what a fool I have been. Her mind is closed and her heart is made of ice. Amery? Amery?"
All the while Amery had grown to manhood, he had distantly admired Ian, for the knight had been true and bound by honor to the lord of Wellington. To hear his confession tore at Amery's heart and stirred his hatred for the one who had ruined so many lives. Lowering his sword, for he sensed no danger from this dying knight, he moved closer so that he could look into the man's eyes. His own widened in surprise when he saw the glistening stream of blood flowing down the side of Ian's face.
"Amery, I beg thy forgiveness and pray her wicked ways have not hardened thy heart as well. Find Lady Jewel. Protect her. Do not... let... her .. . return to ... Har—" Nothing more passed his lips, for Ian's shoulders slumped and his head fell forward, and before Amery could reach out a hand to catch him, the silent knight's lifeless body crumpled to the ground.
* * *
The stillness of the night was shattered by the pounding of hooves against the road as the party of five made its way through the deep snow. In the lead, two knights dressed in full armor kept a watchful eye for any who might appear before them, their swords drawn and a pledge of death upon their lips. Their journey from London had been long and cold, though none had complained except for one of the two women in the group, and nothing any of the others had said or done had pleased her.
"How much longer, Stanmore?" she whined. "My feet and hands are numb, and I swear I shall never walk again after riding on this nag."
"Not far, m'lady," the knight answered over his shoulder,
I then turned back to watch the road and hide his disgust, for the mare she rode had been specially selected for its gentleness.
"You said that shortly after we left the boat," she snapped. "How far is not far?"
"Tell her two days," the knight who rode beside Stanmore whispered.
"What Hube?" the woman demanded. "You spoke too softly."
"Only a bend or two in the road, m'lady," Hube called back. "We'll arrive at Burchard before Brother Howard has warmed his hands by the fire."
"Ha! Don't speak to me of warmth," she raved. "Only the summer sun will ever chase away the chill I feel."
"I warned her about journeying on such a night," Stanmore mumbled to his companion. "We could have stayed at the monastery until morning and traveled by daylight. But nay. She is too anxious to return to her brother's castle."
"Tis Amery of Wellington she is eager for, Stanmore," Hube pointed out. "Everyone in England knows that except Sir Amery." He snorted sarcastically. "And Sir Amery won't look twice at her when there are younger, more beautiful women to choose from than Lady Mertice." He shifted irritably in the saddle. "She is such a fool. Only rumor tells of Sir Gunther's and Sir Amery's return here. We very well may be ordered upon the road on the morrow to seek them once again if the rumor proves to be misleading, for I fear Lady Mertice will not stop until she finds him."
"Yea, friend, you speak the truth. She is blinded by the hope of snaring Sir Amery as a husband." He laughed softly. " 'Twould be a good match, I think—he with a heavy hand for chattering women."
"I have not heard of his violence with women," Hube insisted with a frown. "Only his dislike for their nagging ways. He would walk away before he'd strike her."
"Yea, 'tis true," Stanmore admitted, then turned a smile on his friend. "Only wishing on my part."
Hube wiggled his brows and grinned wickedly. "Yea, 'twould be a treat to see her laid low by a fist to her jaw." Sighing, he looked back at the road. "Someday, perhaps, it will come to pass. There must be one among us who would ignore the results for a chance to silence her endless complaining. Her brother never will."
"Do not discredit Sir Gnnther, Hube," Stanmore rallied in defense. "He has been gone several years and has forgotten the ways of his sister. One day with her will show him her true self. Especially once he learns how she treated Lady Anne while he was gone."
"Now there is a noble dame if I ever knew one. I was truly glad when Lady Mertice decided to return to London for a time. Her absence gave rest to Lady Anne's soft nature." He sadly shook his head. "For her sake, I pray the rumor of Sir Gunther's return is true."
Stanmore held his laughter for fear, Mertice would hear and question him. "And thus place the curse of her tongue on poor Sir Amery?" he teased.
"His shoulders are wide," Hube answered. "He will bear it well."
The other started to respond when Hube's attention was suddenly drawn to a dark shape moving among the trees by the side of the road a short way ahead, and he jerked back on his horse's reins to bring the group to a halt.
"What is it now?" Mertice wailed, annoyed by the delay.
"Someone's out there," Hube told the man at his side, completely ignoring Mertice. "By the road. See him?"
"Yea." Stanmore nodded, pulling his sword. Then in a louder voice, he cried, "Halt! You there, near the road! Step out where we can see you."
The figure straightened as though about to do as Stanmore had commanded, but rather than moving away from the trees, it turned and headed deeper into the woods. Yet the staggering gait of the stranger told the two knights that, whoever he was, he had either had too much to drink or was very ill, and without obtaining Mertice's consent, both knights dismounted to investigate.
"Where are you going?" she shrieked fearfully, then turned to the knight who rode in back of her with her maid. "Draw your sword and stay with me. Tis I you should protect, not wander off as those fools have done."
"But Lady Mertice," the maid objected, "the stranger is in need of aid. 'Tis cold—"
"We owe him nothing!" she barked. "To tarry will only be the death of us all!"
"Yea, m'lady," the young girl murmured, then shifted to get a better view of Hube and Stanmore. She was thankful the two of them had had the courage to disobey Mertice, for whoever the stranger was, he should not be wandering in the woods at this late hour—especial
ly in the cold.
"It's a woman!" Hube called back to the rest once he and Stanmore had approached close enough to see. "Celeste, bring the lap blanket. She's cold and nearly out of her wits."
"Then leave her!" Mertice ordered in a rage. "We are not responsible for a crazy woman."
"I will not!" Hube retorted, "Not on the eve of Christ's birth or any night!"
Shocked by the knight's brazen disobedience, Mertice merely sat there with her mouth gaping open, and, seeing her chance to help without getting permission, Celeste quickly slid from her mount, clutched the fur robe to her chest, and dashed through the ankle-deep snow to the woman.
"Where has she come from?" the' maid asked worriedly as she wrapped the frail, trembling body in the blanket.
"Tis a question only she can answer." Stanmore frowned, bending to sweep the tiny woman up in his arms. "We'll take her to Burchard and see that she's cared for. On the morrow we'll talk with Sir Gunther about her."
"I do not remember seeing her among the serfs at Burchard," Hube commented. "I would have remembered one so beautiful with hair this color."
"Yea," Stanmore murmured, staring down into the face haloed with coppery curls. "Something terrible must have frightened her." He hugged her to him when she shivered violently. "But she is safe now." Turning, he started back toward the horses.
"She may ride with me, Stanmore," Hube offered, agilely swinging himself up on his destrier, then holding out his arms to take her.
Having seen his ward safely deposited in his companion's embrace, Stanmore helped Celeste mount, handed her the reins, then quickly stepped up into his own saddle, unaware of the angry glare all four of them received from Mertice. Not that he would have cared if he had, for he had already decided to speak with the woman's brother about joining Sir Gunther's knights rather than staying with this ill-tempered, nasty woman. With a nod from Hube that he was ready to travel on, Stanmore kicked his charger's sides and set the group off down the road at a quicker pace than before. The young, mysterious woman needed to get in out of the cold, and soon.
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