“Find them! They cannot be far away!” Archer shouted as he scanned the landscape. “I can almost feel them.”
“Aye, Archer,” called one of his men. “But we are losing the light.”
“No excuses! Find them!” he snarled.
Emelin heard footsteps through the undergrowth coming closer. Dried leaves crunched and brittle twigs cracked under their weight, closer they came until they paused in front of the log. She held her breath and Allard squeezed her shoulders in support. After what seemed like an eternity, the footsteps began to move away. Silently she exhaled; waiting as the long minutes ticked by before Allard whispered in her ear, “They’ve gone.”
Emelin turned to him and gently stroked the strong planes of his face. “Today when that man attacked you, I thought I was going to lose you. I never wish to feel that way again.”
“You must not think on it, my heart.” He smiled before he lowered his head and gently brushed his lips against hers.
“Allard, what I am trying to tell you is that today made me realise that I never want to be without you.”
He searched her face and his eyes softened to brown velvet. “I do not wish to be separated from you either. I want you, Emelin,” he said with quiet conviction.
Her heart fluttered as she smiled back at him. “And I you. I shall follow you to Ravenswood and be yours. If that is what you wish.” Her hand moved about his neck. “For you have my heart, Allard and I cannot be apart from you.”
He gathered into his embrace. “You will be happy…I give you my oath.”
She smiled with overbright eyes and then taking a deep breath she sat up and began to loosen his gambeson and slide it over his injured shoulder. He gave her a quizzing glance. “I must tend your wound, it needs redressing,” she explained with a shake of her head and turning pink with embarrassment.
Allard shrugged out of his shirt and gently urged her to lie down. “It can wait a little longer.” He said quietly as he enfolded her into his arms and lowered his lips to hers. He lingered slowly over the kiss until she became pliant in his arms. She sighed with regret when it ended and was about to protest when his tongue began to trace small circles up her neck towards her ear. His action sent a thousand tiny, tickling sparks racing through her. Her arms wrapped around his muscled shoulders and her hands skimmed over his broad back. She felt the smoothness of his skin, the muscles beneath and she marvelled in his strength. Pushing away from her embrace, he deftly tugged up her dress and pulled it off - passion burned in his eyes as he looked down at her and within an instant her shift followed. Emelin tried to hide her nakedness by rolling on her side but Allard stopped her.
“Emelin, do not turn from me. You are beautiful and I merely have to cast a glance your way for my blood to begin to race.” He gently turned her head so she was facing him and brushed a stray lock of hair away from her enchanting eyes. “But it is your tenderness, your fire and your bravery which has enthralled me. I am captivated and my heart is and will always be…yours.” Tears began to gather in her eyes. “Do not cry, my heart,” he whispered as he caught a tear and wiped it away. He captured her mouth in a long and passionate kiss and covered her body with his own. She felt his weight and was comforted by it; her hands gingerly ran over his broad back and down to his trim waist. Her heart raced as skin touched skin and when Allard’s tongue dipped into her mouth she felt wicked, innocent and coveted all at the same time. He rolled onto his side and took Emelin with him. Breaking off their kiss, his tongue traced a tantalizing path down her neck and lingered in the hollow of her throat. She trembled as he continued a downward spiral to the valley between her breasts. His hand began to draw lazy circles across her taught stomach, sending little shivers of delight coursing through her. She gasped as the circles moved higher and his hand gently caressed her breast. Without warning he dipped his head and claimed the rosy peak with his mouth and a soft moan escaped from her lips. Her head fell back as she surrendered to the pleasure that washed over her. Allard’s fingers stroked her legs and something within her began to tighten. Her senses were assaulted and she was unable to think – only experience. She held her breath as his hand touched between her thighs and felt her heat.
“Breathe, Emelin,” he said gently. He raised his head and she saw his eyes glow with passion. “Just remember to breathe.” He kissed her hungrily on the mouth before positioning himself and with the greatest of care eased into her.
As twilight descended over the tall trees, Emelin revelled and rejoiced in each new sensation Allard shared with her. And as he moved within her, she felt whole - as if a tiny piece of her had always been missing until that very moment. Then finally as the moon began to rise, the lovers clung to each other, spent and breathless.
~* * *~
With the morning sun came an optimism that Emelin had never felt before. As she walked next to Allard, she sent up a silent prayer of thanks for sending him to her. Aye, Archer was still tracking them, and they had eaten the last piece of dry bread last eve, and the water flask was almost empty – but despite this Emelin could not help but smile. The sun shone on her back and warmed her, she felt light, free and happy.
“What are you smiling at?” Allard laughed as he swung her around by the hand and planted a kiss upon her cheek. He found her happiness this morning enchanting and infectious.
“You!” she answered as she sought his lips. She sighed with contentment as his strong arms encircled her. Without a word he guided her over to a cluster of trees until her back rested against the trunk of an ancient oak. He dipped his head and captured her mouth, his hands rested upon her tiny waist. As their kiss deepened his hands started to roam over her body. Her breath quickened as his hands pushed up her skirts and stroked their way along the creamy skin of her legs. His clever fingers danced teasingly along her thighs until they cupped her mound and dipped into her essence. Her head dropped back and a moan of satisfaction sprang from her lips as waves of delight washed over her.
“Allard, I want you now!” she demanded as she looked up, her eyes clouded with need.
He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around him. “And I want you, my heart – now and forever more,” he vowed as he sank deeply into her.
Emelin gasped as he filled her completely. She became mindless to everything except Allard’s rhythm as he moved exquisitely within her. Tension and pleasure fed upon each other until they peaked into a shattering climax and were left trembling and fulfilled in each other’s arms.
“How very touching - the knight and his lady,” a voice taunted.
Allard and Emelin quickly broke apart as Archer emerged from the thicket. Emelin’s face burned with embarrassment as she wondered if he had been spying on them.
“Although, I will admit a very beautiful lady.”
“Tis I you want,” Allard said as he stood in front of her. “Let Emelin go.”
“I see that you are as noble as ever, Sir Allard de Gerril.” Archer sneered. “And still protecting the weak. How very predictable. Although in this case, I believe she is obviously worth protecting.” An evil light glittered in his pale eyes and it made Emelin shudder.
Allard tilted his head to one side and drawled “You speak as if we are acquainted with each other.”
For a mere second, surprise flashed across Archer’s face. “You do not remember me?” he uttered before he masked his emotions.
“Nay, I do not.”
“Then cast your mind back to when the Barons all marched on Carriweddan.”
“Aye, I remember it well.” Allard said slowly, he was frustrated because he still could not place this man.
“We fought on different sides and I lost far more than my fingers that cursed day.” He spat and held up his maimed hand for Allard to see. “I lost my livelihood, my wife and my unborn son - all because of your order.”
“I did not order this!” Allard declared. “I pleaded for the lives of Carriweddan’s men. He was the traitor, why should his men pay for it when t
hey were bound by oath to follow his orders. No man should pay for another’s sin. Baron Rawley ordered this – not I.”
“Aye, this is why I ride throughout his land and his holdings, to cause as much mischief as I can.”
Allard began to turn in a slow circle, keeping Emelin behind him at all times. Archer’s henchmen had appeared from nowhere and were now encircling Allard like carrion birds over the dead.
“I have also vowed to kill all who were involved that day,” Archer said as he pushed his long red hair over his shoulder. “However, you did show a little mercy and for that so shall I.” His eyes flicked over Emelin and a cold smile spread over his thin lips. “I shall kill you swiftly, with no humiliation.”
Allard flinched at this reference and in his mind’s eye he saw the hanging bodies of his friends.
“And I swear that I will not kill the lady.”
“You shall never have her!” Allard vowed. He felt Emelin touch his shoulder in support, her rapid breathing fanned his neck.
“Oh but I will,” he said as he drew his sword “And in a very short time from now.”
“Wait!” Emelin cried as she stood from behind Allard. “Wait, I need to know the reason.”
“What reason, sweeting?” he asked with amusement colouring his voice.
“Why did you kill my Father?” Emelin asked quietly as she desperately tried to keep her voice steady.
“Your father… I do not recall who he was.”
“My Father was a trinket seller and a good man. You murdered him along with the rest of the party. We were a defenceless group of peddlers, merchants, old monks and servants. My question Archer, is why?”
“The peasant in the cart, of course! You have his eyes, my dear.” Archer grinned at the memory. “He was a hard man to catch and kill – fought like the devil. But now I realise what he was protecting.”
Emelin felt hot, salty tears course down her cheeks, and she reached out and clutched Allard’s hand. “Please answer, why did you kill them? They were no threat. They were unarmed.”
“Just for that very reason, sweeting. I killed them for my own amusement, to anger Baron Rawley and to add some pretty things to our coffers.” He laughed and held up his undamaged hand, on it glistened two of Master Baul’s gold rings. “If you are obedient, I may even give you a pretty bauble to wear.”
“I want nothing from you,” Emelin said.
“You will learn to take everything I give you, everything.”
Sensing the change in Archer’s demeanour, Allard pushed Emelin away from him. With a cry, she fell hard upon the ground. Instantly Archer and his men advanced on Allard, they circled him and drew their swords. No one took any notice of Emelin. They rushed Allard and it took all his wits and training to defend himself – he parried, blocked and thrust in a flurry of strokes until one of Archer’s men sank to the ground.
“Emelin! Run, get away from this place,” Allard roared.
“Fear not, she will be well taken care of,” Archer taunted as he renewed his attack.
Allard managed to bring his sword slicing down, the henchman screamed as it cut deeply into his arm and he automatically dropped his blade. Allard and Archer then turned to face each other. Their swords rang out as they clashed. Each thrust was met and blocked as they fought furiously in the tiny clearing. From the corner of his eye, Allard saw Emelin watching from the tree line. “Emelin, I told you to run!” he barked.
Archer took the opportunity to increase his attack and hissed through his teeth as he brought his sword down in a deadly arc. “She will be mine. I will have her and she will moan and tremble and above all I will make her forget you ever lived.”
Allard blocked his blow and then with a twist of his wrist managed to flick the blade from Archer’s grasp. “Nay, you will never have her!” he cried as he pointed his sword towards Archer’s neck, the point barely touching his Adam’s apple. “You are disarmed – yield, it is over.”
“Never!” Archer cried as he launched himself at his foe. They grappled until Allard’s sword fell to the ground. They wrestled each other on the forest floor, first one taking the advantage and then the other. Allard staggered back as Archer’s punch caught the side of his face. He fell against the wounded outlaw, and the man’s good arm snaked out and caught him about the neck.
Allard struggled but was unable to break free. Archer gloated as he walked forward. “A pleasing battle but tis over.” He wiped his bloodied mouth with the back of his hand and then sent three hard punches in succession to Allard’s midsection. He smiled as Allard grunted in pain. Grabbing his hair, he pushed the knight’s head back and searched his face. Archer looked down at his rival in triumph; slowly he unsheathed his knife, its wicked blade glinting in the sunlight.
“Fret not; I will take care of the little dove,” he said as he raised the knife in preparation of plunging it into Allard’s heart. “Fare thee well - I….” He faltered as he looked at Allard with surprise. Then without another word, he sank to the ground with the knife still clutched in his hand. Allard watched with relief as the light faded from his enemy’s eyes.
Emelin stood with a bloody sword trembling in her hands and looked down dispassionately at his body. “That is payment for my father and all the other innocents you have murdered,” she whispered.
The quick and surprising demise of his leader had startled the remaining outlaw and his grip began to lessen. It was enough for Allard to break free. He turned and knocked the man off his feet with an almighty punch and watched with satisfaction as the man fell like a stone.
“So. What kept you?” he asked casually.
“I had trouble finding a big enough branch,” she quipped as she fell into his arms. He lifted her up and kissed her thoroughly on the mouth.
~* * *~
The forest began to thin and give way to patches of green meadow. Emelin and Allard stepped out of the woods, leading a slightly disgruntled Nicodemus and found themselves standing at the top of a hill. Below them the dirt road snaked through the open countryside and in the distance a town could be seen. He mounted Nicodemus and lifted her up and placed her in front of him. The clattering sound of hooves caught his attention; he tensed and urged his horse around to face the oncoming riders. He relaxed and a slow smile tugged the corners of his mouth, as a dozen men rode towards him - his pennant emblazoned with a flying raven fluttered in the breeze.
“Allard!” a young man called as he reined in his horse. “Well, you have led us a merry chase.” He grinned as he slapped Allard on the shoulder.
“Griffin, it is good to see you. I assume you received my message and dealt with the problem.” He smiled at the man’s greeting.
“Aye, that sorry band will never hurt anyone again. I also took the liberty of having our men and the travelling party taken back to Ravenswood for burial – I hope this meets with your approval.”
“Many thanks, it is a weight off my mind,” Allard replied with a nod “Ah, Griffin, this is Emelin,” he said as he squeezed her tight. “Griffin is my friend and second in command.”
“My lady,” he replied and bowed his head.
“Oh, but I am not. I am not – I’m....” Emelin stammered but Allard cut her off before she could finish.
“And the boy?”
“He insisted on coming and refused a new mount.” Griffin smiled as he pointed to the back of the riders.
Emelin gave a cry of joy as she watched Garriden jump off Hebby’s back and race to her side. He held her hand and brought it to his lips. “Emelin, I feared that you were dead.”
“And I you, Garriden.”
“I am glad that you are safe. Heaven be praised for it.” He looked to Allard and saw his raised eyebrow. “And you as well, Master Allard.”
“My thanks, minstrel and do not stray too far away, we will need your service soon enough.” He turned Nicodemus towards the town and said to Emelin “We ride to Cambridge and to the first church we come across.”
Emelin’s brow
furled in confusion. Tilting her head back, she addressed him. “Allard, we must make for St. Benedict’s. That is where the Brothers Arnauf, Carwin and Silas were bound.”
“Aye, we will stop there and tell them of their loss. Yet that is not why I seek a church.”
“Allard, you are speaking in riddles,” she answered with exasperation. “Why do you seek a church?”
“To marry you, of course.”
Emelin stilled as his words sank into her heart. “But, we cannot. You said that we could not.”
“Ah, you do not love me?” he sighed sadly.
“You are everything to me.”
“Then is it that you do not wish to marry me?” he asked in a teasing tone.
“More than anything, but how can it be possible. I am only a trinket seller’s daughter.”
“Aye, but from this day you will also be my wife and Mistress of Ravenswood. You are my heart, Emelin, and I will have no barriers between us. Now, shall we find a church?”
Emelin nodded and a beautiful smile broke over her face. “I love you, Allard.”
“I know,” he answered as he started to nuzzle her neck and she began to melt within his arms. He interrupted his task for a moment and called over his shoulder. “You had better come as well, minstrel – a wedding is in need of bright music!”
Not waiting for an answer, Allard urged the big grey horse into a canter towards the town.
About the Author
I live in a country town about an hour and a half from Melbourne in the Central Highlands, which is old gold mining country. I’m married with three teenage children. I love history, particularly the medieval kind; myths, legends, fairytales and the paranormal.
The Trinket Seller's Daughter Page 5