“No one said anything about betraying your men. But if I were you, I would do all I could to ensure that I survived to return to Adalie and your blue-eyed daughter. Are they not worth it?”
Just as he had tried to manipulate her, now she was turning the tables on him. Kristoph was astute enough to realize that and he fought off a smile at a lady who would turn the tables on him. She was cleverer than he gave her credit for.
“They are,” he said. He continued to watch her in the darkness, thinking of another angle to take in their conversation. Maybe if he tried to establish a personal relationship with her…. “May I ask your name, my lady? We have had a rather long conversation and I fear that we have not been properly introduced.”
She wouldn’t look at him when she spoke because there was only a hair’s-width separating her from truly sympathizing with him. “Ghislaine,” she said, “but I suggest you not use it in front of my men. They will not take kindly to hearing my name from your lips.”
“Ghislaine,” he murmured. GIZ-lain. “It is a lovely name. Have you always fought with the army, Ghislaine?”
She nodded. “As long as I can recall,” she said. Then, she turned to look at him. “Before you ask me any more questions, I will tell you that one of my brothers is the Earl of Mercia and another is the Earl of Northumbria. If you were conscious when you heard me speak to a man named Alary, that is also a brother, but he is a demon who walks the earth in a man’s skin. He is wicked and devious, so you must beware of him. I have a feeling he will be back and if he truly wants you, it will be difficult to stop him.”
Kristoph had, indeed, heard her speaking to a man with a voice that was low and gritty, like rocks grating against stone. He appreciated that she had pointed out a serious danger to him but in his condition, there wasn’t much he could do about it. If Alary wanted him, it wasn’t as if he could fight back.
Groaning softly, he rolled to his side and slowly sat up, feeling every ache and every stab of pain in his battered body. His head was throbbing and he winced as he sat there a moment, trying to catch his breath.
“Ghislaine, if I may speak plainly,” he said, resisting the urge to put a hand to his aching head. “I am not part of the Duke of Normandy’s inner circle. I do not know of his plans or even of his operations. I can tell you his strengths and how many men he carries, but you could see that for yourself today. I am afraid that if your men intend to interrogate me, they will be terribly disappointed. If… if I promise to return home to my wife and stay there, will you please let me go?”
Ghislaine looked at him. He sounded sincere, but it was equally possible that he was lying to her. He was finely dressed and she knew he had money, which meant that he more than likely was more to the Norman duke than he said he was.
“Go?” she repeated. “Go where? Do you even know where you are?”
“You could tell me.”
She almost considered it. Ghislaine was having visions of a young mother being informed that her husband was never to return and the same feelings she felt at Hakon’s death began to swamp her. But she resisted them with all her might.
He is the enemy!
“I cannot let you go,” she said. “If you are captured a second time, I will not be able to protect you. The men will beat you to death.”
Kristoph knew that was probably true and he struggled not to feel some desperation in his situation. “They are going to kill me anyway when they realize I cannot tell them anything they want to know,” he said. “At least I would have a fighting chance if you let me run. For my wife and daughter’s sake, will you not do that?”
Now he was bringing the wife and child into the conversation again. She was starting to grow irritated.
“I do not care for your wife or daughter,” she snapped. “They are my enemy, as are you. Stop asking me for favors which are not mine to give. You wielded a sword against my countrymen and now you are our prisoner. Accept your fate as an honorable man would and stop trying to play upon my sympathies.”
So, she knew what he was up to. Kristoph could see that he’d offended her. Even so, it was a chance he’d had to take. He was coming to realize that, in all likelihood, he would never again see his wife or daughter and he began to feel sick inside. God help him, his life was in the hands of people whose king had just been killed by his comrades. He’d been part of the murder.
He knew that Death was coming for him, too.
“If I have offended you, then I am sorry,” he said quietly, sincerely. “And for protecting me against your soldiers… you have my deepest gratitude. I realize you have risked yourself for me and I am most appreciative.”
Somewhere off in the darkness, they could hear men’s voices. At first, the discussion was quiet for the most part but it soon began to grow in intensity. Moreover, the voices were growing closer as men with torches were now moving through the trees. It didn’t take a skilled eye to know that they were heading in their direction.
Ghislaine could see the torches moving through the darkness, growing brighter and brighter, and a sense of foreboding filled her. She knew that Alary’s departure had been temporary but what she hadn’t counted on was that he would return so soon. She was hoping he would at least stay away until morning. She turned to Kristoph.
“Remember what I told you,” she said. “Answer their questions or they will not hesitate to kill you. Do not try to be clever and do not lie; tell them what they need to know and you may yet live through this.”
Kristoph was watching the torches grow closer, too. He was certain that he was watching the beginning of his end and it was difficult to suppress his knightly instincts. These men were his sworn enemy and fighting against them was as natural as breathing. But that same thought came the realization that he was in no condition to fight off a mob. He had no weapons and, from the pain in his chest and shoulder area, he was certain he’d broken a rib or two. While there was still time, he turned to Ghislaine.
“My name is Kristoph de Lohr,” he said, his voice low. “My home is in Brittany, south of Rennes in a village called Lohréac. I serve Gaetan de Wolfe. I do not ask you to risk yourself any more than you have already. But if something happens to me, I want someone to know of my ending. You are a brave and gallant lady, and I shall never forget your kindness to me. Mayhap someday, you will send Gaetan a missive and tell him what became of me so that he can tell my wife. I hope that you will tell him that I met my end bravely, for that is what I intend to do.”
Ghislaine could see the steely resolve in his eyes, even in the darkness. He wasn’t afraid of what was coming, not in the least. In spite of her resistance to him, that resolve greatly impressed her. Not only were Normans capable of mercy, but they were capable of great courage as well.
As the mob with torches grew closer, Ghislaine began to regret that she hadn’t let de Lohr run as he’d asked. Perhaps he could have gotten away; perhaps not. Now, they would never know, for as the mob came into view through the weak moonlight, she could see Alary at the head of it.
That could only mean trouble.
Now, that brave Norman knight would never see his black-haired wife again or the daughter with the pretty blue eyes. He would soon be dead all because Ghislaine hadn’t shown enough mercy to spare his life. Now, she was starting to question every decision she’d made until this point where it pertained to de Lohr. A man’s life had been in her hands and she’d failed him.
She’d failed her sense of mercy.
“I see the prisoner is well enough to sit up,” Alary said as he came upon them, flanked by many men. “That is good. We will make use of him.”
Before Ghislaine could ask what that meant, Alary snapped his fingers to his men and they swarmed on Kristoph, throwing him back to the ground and using hemp rope to bind his arms and legs. From what Ghislaine could see, he wasn’t struggling but they were being very rough with him. When she leapt to her feet to try and protect him, Alary intervened and pulled her away, restraining her while his men t
russed up de Lohr and carried him off into the darkness.
“Wait!” Ghislaine demanded. “Where are you taking him? I told you that he was more valuable alive! What are you doing?”
Alary still had hold of his fairly strong sister. “I am not going to kill him,” he assured her. “At least, not yet. You were correct when you said he will be valuable to our cause. I am going to see just how much the man knows of the Normans and their plans for our country.”
Ghislaine tried to follow the men who were carrying Kristoph away but Alary had a grip on her. “An abused man will be a burden,” she said, finally yanking herself out of her brother’s grasp. “If you hurt him, he will be of no use at all.”
Alary cocked an eyebrow at his sister. “Watch your manner of loyalty, little sister,” he said, a hint of threat in his tone. “If one did not know better, one might suspect you to have sided with the Normans. Is that why they were able to defeat us? Because they had information on our weaknesses from someone who knew of our movements?”
Ghislaine’s blood ran cold and she yanked her wrist from her brother’s grasp, bringing up the other hand to strike him squarely across the face. But Alary was fast and he was able to block her strike, but just barely. She managed to scratch his chin. Ghislaine glared at him.
“I will never hear such an insinuation come from your mouth again,” she hissed. “I no more contributed to the Norman victory than you did. But in my case, at least I tried to prevent it while you remained at the rear of the army, letting your men go forth to do the fighting in your stead.”
As he insulted her, she insulted him even deeper. Alary’s jaw hardened as he faced off against her.
“I will pretend I did not hear you say that,” he said. “Watch yourself, little sister. Your protection of the Norman knight does not please anyone here. Word may get back to Edwin.”
“As word of your lack of action may get back to him as well. Do not threaten me, Alary. You cannot best me.”
Alary cocked an eyebrow. “We shall see,” he said, stepping back from her, out of striking range. His sister was a warrior at heart and she was not afraid to attack him and, truth be told, he had a healthy respect for her because, at times, she could be just as unpredictable as he could. “After I am finished interrogating your Norman friend, I shall take him back with me to Tenebris.”
Tenebris was a hunting lodge used by the Mercian kings but since Edwin had exiled Alary, it was now the place where the dark brother lived. In the wilds west of Kidderminster and located in an area known as the Far Forest, it was a place that most men avoided now. It had a reputation of darkness and debauchery. Ghislaine knew that if her brother took the knight to Tenebris, no one would ever see the man again.
I would like to see my wife and daughter again.
If de Lohr went to Tenebris, that would not happen.
“And do what with him?” Ghislaine wanted to know, hating herself for sounding as if she cared. “He is my prisoner. I told you that. You have no right to take him with you.”
Alary grinned. “Little Ghislaine and her prize,” he mocked. “Thank you for capturing the knight. Now I shall take him from you. If you want him back, then your men will have to fight my men for him. I think my men want him more, eh?”
Ghislaine’s general attitude towards her brother was one of disdain but there were occasions when she genuinely hated him. This was one of those times. He was teasing her, trying to bait her, and it was difficult not to respond to it. He’d been doing it all their lives and the brother/sister dynamic could be more emotional than most.
“If that is your wish, then I shall order my men to retake him,” she said, trembling because she was so angry. “And when they are done defeating your men, I will have them go after you.”
Alary was smug in his stance. Before the situation grew out of hand, he went to the truth of the matter. “Let me be plain, little sister,” he said. “If you send your men to take him, I will kill him before they can do it and that will be the end of your prize. If you do not wish him harmed, then it would be better if you did not try.”
Ghislaine knew it was not a threat. This dark and hateful man would shove a dagger between the Norman knight’s ribs purely out of spite, because he would not want his sister to have him and for no other reason than that. The knight would cease to be a captive at that point and simply become a possession. Therefore, the hatred in her heart towards her brother was building.
“Why would you do this?” she demanded, frustrated. “I told you that a Norman spared my life, which is why I spared the knight’s. I told you that he was my prisoner. You have no right to take him.”
Alary was moving away from her now, heading in the direction his men had taken the Norman knight. “Yet I have taken him,” he pointed out, taunting. “Come for him if you wish. I will kill him before I surrender him to you.”
Ghislaine watched him as he went. “Edwin shall know of what you’ve done.”
It was meant to be a threat but Alary simply shrugged, turning and heading off into the darkness. Her threat had no meaning to him.
Even after he was gone, there was a stench in the air that suggested his evilness had not left at all. It was still there, all around her, his gloating victory in taking her prisoner from her. Infuriated, it was all Ghislaine could do to keep from shouting in anger. She had a bow and a quiver of arrows slung over her back. Had there been any light, she would have sailed one of those deadly darts right into her brother’s back and felt no remorse at all. He’d taken what belonged to her.
The Norman knight.
Now, she was thinking of him, the big warrior from across the sea. Norman knight. Damn the man. She knew his name now and she knew he had a family; a wife and child he adored. He’d asked her to let him go and she’d refused. Now, he was in Alary’s hands and that more than likely would mean his death. Tenebris… indeed, it would mean his death.
Ghislaine could hear sounds in the direction the knight had been taken. There were a pair of fires in the darkness, cooking fires for men to warm a meal out of whatever supplies they happened to have. Not strangely, she could hear what sounded like a fight because there was a good deal of thumping and slapping going on. Men were laughing. It didn’t take much imagination to realize that they were beating the Norman knight again, probably because Alary told them to.
De Lohr, his name had been. Regardless of Alary’s threat, Ghislaine couldn’t let them beat the man to death. She was compelled to protect him again.
As she headed over in the direction of the noise, her thoughts turned to what de Lohr had told her. Mayhap someday, you will send Gaetan a missive and tell him what became of me so that he can tell my wife. I hope that you will tell him that I met my end bravely, for that is what I intend to do.
Such noble words from a man who had shown nothing but quiet resolve and bravery throughout his capture. He’d never wept, or begged, or shown weakness in any fashion. Even when he’d asked her to let him go, he hadn’t pleaded with her. He’d simply asked. Norman courage. She admired it, far more than she admired Anglo-Saxon mercy at the moment. Surely such a courageous man didn’t deserve the fate that awaited him.
Something inside of her was screaming to help him.
More than that, something inside her was screaming for vengeance against Alary. Cruel and wicked bastard that he was, he could be erased from the world tomorrow and no one would miss him. With his taunts and actions, he had pushed her beyond reason and there was a large part of her that wanted vengeance against him. Tonight, he took her prisoner; tomorrow, who knew what he would take? Moreover, he’d accused her of siding with the Normans. That was unforgiveable slander because Alary wouldn’t keep it to himself. He would tell others about this day and it was quite possible that men would start to doubt her loyalties. It would destroy all she’d worked hard for.
Something had to be done.
Gaetan de Wolfe. De Lohr had mentioned the man as his commander. He had asked her to send a message to him
. Perhaps she could do more than that; she could tell de Wolfe just where her brother and de Lohr were. De Wolfe could save his man and Alary would be collateral damage. Odd how that thought brought a smile to her lips. Her greedy, wicked brother would be dead and so would his suspicious mind and uncontrollable tongue. She would be doing her people a favor, in fact, and Edwin might even thank de Wolfe for such a service.
There might be some kind of bond struck between the Normans and the Earl of Mercia because of it.
A bond over Alary’s death.
By the time Ghislaine reached the men who were pounding on de Lohr, she had a firm plan in mind. De Lohr was being beaten badly and she, once again, had to throw herself between him and the men who wanted to kill him. Alary’s men wouldn’t go out of their way to hit her but they kept trying to strike out at the knight behind her, going around her to grab de Lohr by the hair or club him in his already-damaged ribs. That went on for a while as Alary simply stood back and watched, laughing every time his sister received a blow meant for de Lohr. It was entertainment for him. But for Ghislaine, it only sealed Alary’s fate.
She was going to send the Normans right to him.
As the night went on, the beating stopped and men, exhausted from a day of battle, wandered off to sleep in the forest. Left alone with the wounded knight, Ghislaine did what she could for de Lohr, who was a swollen, bleeding mess at this point. She could only hope the men had gotten their bloodlust out and would leave him alone from this point on but she didn’t really believe that. Still, she couldn’t remain with him because she had something very important to do. It was a task that only she could undertake and, if discovered, could mean her death. If she was caught going to the Norman encampment, then everything Alary had insinuated about her would be believed. She was taking a terrible risk.
But it had to be done.
In the hour before dawn, as the eastern sky began to lighten, Ghislaine moved from her post guarding the Norman knight and knelt down next to him as he lay upon the cold ground, battered and swollen. Leaning over his head, she whispered in his ear.
Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume 1 Page 6