by C. C. Wiley
A thunder of hooves raced toward the camp. Wooden stirrups beat against the beast’s sides as the rider-less horse blindly tore past surprised onlookers. A few brave souls made a half-hearted grab for the loose reins. The gray stallion reared, its deadly hooves cutting through the air.
Terrwyn ducked as the tall gray spun in her direction. She was too slow. Surging forward, its broad chest knocked her down as easily as if she were an old rag doll. Pain shot through her body when she struck a rock half-buried in the ground. Curled protectively in a tight ball, she rolled off to the side and out of danger.
She worked to clear her head and push the fear back into the shadows. It took only seconds, yet the terror felt like it had been there for an eternity. Perhaps it had. Or at least for six years. Despite her vow of never knowing defeat again, it still plagued her, trailing after her like a hound after a fox.
Her dismay plummeted further as Sir William came charging up. Terrwyn flinched as his mount skidded to a stop in front of her. Several soldiers rode behind him. They pulled up, their faces grim. She choked as dirt filled her nostrils, assailing her with more memories.
“You, traitor, will stay where you are. Think to move from that spot and the next thing you feel will be the weight of English iron around your ankles.”
“What is the meaning of this? Someone grab that horse.” James strode to where Terrwyn lay. “Are you harmed?” He knelt down beside her. Running his fingers over her limbs, he poked and prodded her flesh. His examination stopped when he heard her gasp as he pressed on the bruise forming on her hip.
Terrwyn pulled her thoughts together. Her focus was clearer now, clearer than it had been for several weeks. Though concern marked James’s face, she saw him as he once was. A bit younger, less sure of himself.
Her heart hardened. There had been times when she desired his touch, entranced by the graceful beauty in his strong hands, the tenderness in his words. Now, the thought of him anywhere near her flesh was almost too much.
He had been there the last time she saw her brother.
Accompanied by the creaking sound of leather, Sir William swung out of his saddle. Mounted soldiers drew their blades and moved in. Flanked by his men, Sir William motioned for several lengths of rope.
Terrwyn started to rise, scrambling for a purchase with her feet. She stopped when an English soldier pressed his boot into the small of her back.
“Halt,” James ordered the men. “You will cease this at once.”
Sir William held the rope out to James. “Tie it around her wrists.”
James’s eyes widened and then narrowed as if he could not seem to comprehend the audacity. “I see no reason for this.”
“Perhaps a little persuasion will change your mind.” Sir William tilted his head at the man beside him.
With one swift motion, the soldier struck James from behind. The cudgel made a hollow thud as it made contact. James grunted and toppled like a felled tree, his body landing near Terrwyn. His face. So near, she could see each curved lash lining his closed lids. Blood trickled from somewhere on the back of his head. It slid down the smooth skin of his neck and pooled at his jaw. His lids trembled as he tried to force them open.
Terrwyn winced as the soldiers pulled her arms behind her back, tying her wrists together. She moved to sit up and found the weight of someone’s knee pressing her down.
Terrwyn focused on James, on the fullness of his lips. Although she could not hear what he said, she knew anyway. His words, “I’m sorry,” blew softly against her skin.
Before she could respond or ponder her confused feelings, strong hands picked her up and tossed her unceremoniously into Sir William’s quarters. She had never been treated so harshly. Fear washed over her in waves, taking her breath with it. All reason left her head. Once the air returned to her lungs, the shadowy fuzz of confusion began to fade.
Her uncomfortable position became all too clear.
Tied to a post, my ankles and wrists bound—she bitterly recalled her rash words to James as she’d left Cook’s tent. She had foreseen this earlier but thought by using it as a threat herself, she had removed the danger.
The soldiers brought James in and dumped him beside her. True to his word, Sir William carried in iron manacles. “This will slow you down. Owain Glyndwr will not be so willing to wait for you to show yourselves.”
Terrwyn struggled against the ropes as they brought the irons close. “Please, ’tis a terrible mistake.”
Sir William paused long enough to give hope to Terrwyn’s heart. “That it is, my dear Archer,” he snapped. “Though it did not go easy with Edgar Poole when we captured him, he explained how you conspired to create havoc in the king’s army. You should have reconsidered your plans when you chose to deceive me and join with the Welsh sympathizer.” He patted her head. “Mind you, there was a time when I admired a sweet Welsh maiden. Once, I might have even found you a delight. But now, I’ve a vow to my king to uphold and with it comes my pleasure in administering your punishment.”
“Nay. You have it wrong.”
“You’ve made your bed,” said Sir William. “Now deal with the fleas.”
“Pray, listen to me.”
“You have nothing of interest to say.”
“I know where to find your child.”
Surprise flashed across his stern eyes. They were soon shuttered behind uncaring lids. Without another word, he rose and strode from the tent.
Terrwyn rolled over where James lay. Although tears blurred her vision, she could see that he sank deeper into oblivion. The voice of caution dissipated with each new wave of fear. “Wake up, James,” Terrwyn screamed. “Wake up!”
Her head snapped back. The soldier who struck her began to bind her to the man she had vowed to hate. “Nay—”
Chapter Fifteen
Pain erupted, forcing Terrwyn to quickly regret the decision to shift positions. After testing her bonds, it did not take long to discover her movements were limited by rope and iron. Her wrists were bound together. Her arms burned from the constant stretch behind her back. She rested her head against the tent pole, concentrating on relaxing the cramp wedged between her shoulder blades.
She no longer wore the cap she had used to conceal her braid. Her ruse exposed, it mattered little that she did not have a cap to hide under. Still, she felt naked without that scrap of material sitting on her head. And she did not care for that feeling at all.
A length of iron chain attached her ankle to James’s dead weight. With the tips of her fingers, she inched the iron links closer until she dragged enough of it into her hands. She gave the short length of chain a swift yank.
James’s foot shot out to the side. Awaking with a start, he groaned when he tried to rub the back of his head. His body stiffened as if suddenly aware his arms were bound and wrapped behind him.
“’Tis good to see you yet live.” Terrwyn jerked the chain again. From the growl emanating from behind her back, she may well have taunted an injured bear.
It took great effort to yank the heavy chain and she did not feel so sparkly herself. Her head felt as if it were twice its normal size. The fact she was bound to an idiot did not improve her mood. Based on the state of James’s injuries, Sir William’s ire was mostly directed toward him. At least she prayed that was true.
Until recently, she had not realized her father and some of the villagers still held ties to Owain Glyndwr. She always thought the warnings from her mam were silly twaddle, worry based on myths and stories told by the hearth. And, sure as she was bound to this post, she never thought James a Welsh sympathizer.
The memory of a young man’s youthful face, awash with embarrassment and concern, flashed in her head. She was certain James—the bastard!—had been there by the prince’s side when the English took young Drem away.
Hope sparked.
When she had peeked at James’s drawings, she’d been taken aback by the image of a man who resembled an older Drem. She needed a better look at those
drawings. Although it had been a considerable span of time since she last saw her brother, their father’s craggy nose and high cheekbones were easy to recognize. It looked as though they had also found a home on her brother’s face. Never had there been two more alike.
Terrwyn’s heart grew heavy with a bit of guilt. She would have to convince Sir William that she and James, that stump-headed man, held no sympathy for Owain Glyndwr. Telling a story of the Welshman’s betrayal would not be so hard. Had she not heard at her own mam’s knee how Father’s involvement with the uprising had cost their family everything? This tale she could do with a tear in her eye. Yet, to persuade Sir William of her love for England would be a difficult task indeed. If she were to gain even half a chance, James must believe her story as well. She prayed he would not make a mess of it.
It was her poor luck to think adding him to her list of champions might make her task easier. She had thought to attach herself to James’s side until she found her brother, though being tied to a post with this man was not at all her intention. She hated to admit it, but no matter how much of a bother he became, if she removed herself from his side, she would lose the opportunity to fulfill her vow.
James shifted his seat. The heat from his body radiated through the sleeves of their leather jerkins. The sound of the iron scratching across the ground taunted her with her inability to move as she wished.
The weight of the chains grew heavier. The coarse rope around her wrist became as scratchy as a pinecone.
Freedom. Right now, she would not care if the villagers poked their noses into her business. She had not seen the amount of freedom she had until she lost it. The need to regain her freedom grew. Her heart began to leap. Her thoughts raced from rational to insane possibility. Goodness knows, whatever trouble James had been in up ’til now had somehow included her. She found herself in the same pot of danger. She did not have the faintest idea how she would get them out of camp, but get them out she would.
Wait! Them? Terrwyn’s breath caught in her throat. Her mounting anxiety crested. Her heart began to slow. She felt as if she were a boat settling itself after a storm.
Fearless of James’s ire, she gave the chain another jerk and smiled when she heard his groaned response.
“What in Satan’s retreat do you want?”
“Do you mind telling me what you did to bring Sir William and his soldiers crashing down upon our head?”
James cleared his throat before answering. “Edgar’s tale reached Sir William’s ear sooner than mine.”
“Should think ’tis simple enough to refute his tale.”
“Aye, but I have no proof and Edgar has enough men to say they saw me at a well-known den of Welsh traitors.”
“He weaves a fine web of lies. There must be just as many willing to refute his word against you.”
“One small problem. I did frequent the Bloated Goat.”
“As I’m sure a countless number of men do.”
“On a night where several disreputable subjects gathered.”
“Never figured you for a Welsh sympathizer. You’re a cur hound to turn on your friend and king.”
“Enough, Terrwyn! Cease speaking of things you don’t understand.”
“Wait!” Terrwyn said. “If Poole saw you there, then that means he was there too. Did you not point that out and demand Sir William to ponder that fact a moment or two?”
“My only satisfaction is in knowing Poole is under guard and unable to deliver his messages to the sympathizers.”
“If only you had something to show you are innocent of Edgar Poole’s charges.”
“’Tis not just Poole’s story that I plot with the Welshmen that has stirred his temper. Your duplicity revealed in front of his men must have struck a nerve and fanned his ire. He won’t be willing to think straight until he has had time to cool. When he is ready to be reasonable I will speak to him again.”
Terrwyn tensed. She had nearly managed to forget the disdain dripping from Sir William when he spoke of Welsh women. If not for James’s interruption, she might have worked out a plan to gain the commander’s good graces. It would have taken a few sweet words. Words so sweet, they melt on your tongue before you said them. If pressed, she might have even offered a promise of a maiden’s greatest gift.
Course she did not intend to keep that promise. That gift would remain intact until she determined it was time—preferably with the man of her heart on her wedding night. That love match did not exist, but one could tempt the fates to bring it about with a wish.
She sighed and attempted to ignore the imp’s voice inside her head. To no avail—she could hear its devilish taunts. What need do I have for keeping my maiden’s gift intact? Without dowry, land or family position, there will be no wedding night. No love match, either. Why wait for the unattainable?
Terrwyn leaned her head against the post and let her shoulders press into James. His warmth flooded her back. Fluid heat flowed through her body, pooling in the center of her core. The image of their limbs tangled in a mass of passion blurred. Terrwyn shook free of the vision and shuddered. Certainly the act between a man and a woman caused nothing but trouble for a woman. Sometimes even death. She would do well to remember that instead of wandering where she should not.
She jerked her foot. The chain between them stretched taut.
“Cease your infantile tantrums,” James said. “You’ll have a soldier on top of us before you take another breath.”
“Infantile?” Terrwyn gripped the rope, working the knot around her wrist.
James lifted his leg and held it. The chain between them stretched tight. Gathering momentum, he swung his foot out and let it drop.
Terrwyn tilted nearly on her side, one leg close to his. The other she was busily scooting closer to keep from splitting herself in two. “One day you’ll regret the day we met,” she warned through gritted teeth.
Satisfaction wove through his voice. “I already do, infant. I already do.”
Terrwyn felt the burn from her hatred begin to grow. How could she have thought she felt something for this man? She sniffed, hurt by how easily he agreed with her. “Do not bother yourself with worry for me. I’ll leave you to yourself, just as soon as I relieve myself of these chains.”
James shifted. “I do not know if you’ve noticed, but we are both in a bit of trouble. Give me half a moment to think of something.”
“No doubt when I speak with one of the brothers from Norwich, I’ll be able to extract myself from this situation.”
“Terrwyn, Sir William ignores my relationship with the king and has me bound to a damn pole. How do you purport we convince Sir William of our usefulness?”
“I don’t. I do not know of your innocence, therefore I cannot swear by it.” Hearing the exasperated sputter behind her, she continued, “I plan to manage on my own. Convince him of my loyalty.”
James grunted. “William has no reason to believe anything you say. Even if you wag your fine bottom in front of him, you’ll not win out.”
“You forget they still need me.” Terrwyn leaned her head back. “Though Sir William may not care for me, King Henry needs archers for his war. ’Tis certain, Simon will offer his appreciation of my talent.”
“Do not be foolish. Even though Henry needs archers, he won’t want a maiden in his ranks. Not unless she’s providing comfort.”
“I think I can persuade William otherwise.”
“Your pride misleads you, Terrwyn. I’ve spent enough time with Sir William to know that he doesn’t change his mind often. Where we are concerned, it will take a great deal to move his decision about us.”
“’Tis why we must separate ways,” she said. “I will be about my business and you shall move about yours.”
“You get ahead of yourself and the small problem that stands between us.”
Terrwyn’s heart caught. Did he recognize her from so long ago? Six years was a long time. She scooted to sit straighter so that she might move her ear closer to
catch his words. “What stands between us, James?”
“Should think it obvious.” He twitched the chain, causing the metal links to jingle. “This. Until one of us finds a way to remove it, we must move as one.”
Hope for a word about Drem evaporated. James was right. As much as she wished to rid him from her life, she needed him. Perhaps sweet fate had played a cruel game. As their pasts linked them together, so were they tied together by iron links. In her mind, both sets of chains were equally heavy. Once she figured out a way to get them out of the encampment, she would work on gaining information regarding her brother.
Terrwyn let her shoulder blades meld into his warmth. “James?”
“Aye?”
“Think on your tent. Do you recall where everything is placed?”
“It matters little if I do or do not. They’ve probably packed everything up.”
“What makes you think that? Why would they be so quick to do so?”
“The camp sounds. There’s a change about to take place.”
Terrwyn listened to the rushed clatter. The horses stomped their hooves, whinnying to each other. “How soon?”
“Probably not until morning. Get a good fresh start on the day.”
“What are we to do, James?”
The sound of footsteps arrived at the tent before he could respond. The tent flap was raised and Simon entered. He cleared his throat and held out a jug.
James turned his head to look over his shoulder. “Come on, man, she cannot take a drink unless you untie her hands.” Hearing Simon’s grunt, James added, “Not to worry.” He lifted his leg that was bound to Terrwyn’s. “We’re stuck at the hip, so to speak.”
Terrwyn let her smile slide to Simon. “’Tis all right if you do not feel comfortable untying me. You could bring the vessel to me, press it to my lips. ‘Twould be as if I sipped from your hand.” She ignored the disgusted snort that came from behind her back. Her smile grew. She closed her eyes and tilted her chin up. Her throat bared to the enemy, she parted her lips and waited.