Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume 1

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Something in the muddy road had his attention.

  There were footprints, but they weren’t normal footprints – the left one was normal but the right one looked like only half a foot, as if whoever they belonged to was favoring the right leg. It looked very odd. Better still, there were dog tracks beside it. Peering closely, Luc could see that the footsteps led all the way down the avenue that ran next to the church. It was a clue as far as he was concerned so he put his fingers in his mouth and emitted a piercing whistle that had the knights in the stable emerging.

  He pointed to the ground.

  “Here!” he shouted. “I think I have found her trail!”

  That had de Russe, de Winter, and St. Hèver running from the stable, clustering around de Lara and looking at what he was pointing out. St. Hèver crouched down, touching the foot imprints and looking at the paw prints that ran alongside.

  “This must be her,” he said. “It is a small imprint, a woman’s imprint, and I would know those dog prints anywhere. Denis, run and find Gaetan. He will want to know.”

  De Winter ran off into the darkness, following the sounds of men calling for Ghislaine in the distance. But Aramis snatched the torch from de Lara and began to follow the footprints. When Luc and Kye went to follow him, he waved the men off.

  “Nay,” he said. “Remain here and wait for Gaetan. I am going to see where these lead.”

  Luc and Kye simply nodded, watching de Russe as the man practically ran alongside the footprints before taking a sharp right turn to follow them back behind the cathedral. At that point, he disappeared from their sight, but they knew why he was running. Better to make it to the lady before Gaetan did. All of that talk about both de Wolfe and de Russe being in love with the same woman was starting to play true, but both de Lara and St. Hèver simply looked at each other knowingly and shook their heads; if de Russe wanted to risk Gaetan’s wrath, then that was his business.

  They weren’t going to get involved.

  In truth, they were absolutely right – Aramis wasn’t going to wait for Gaetan. He wanted to find the lady himself because he was as concerned for her as Gaetan was, if not more so. He’d graciously agreed to stand aside because of Gaetan’s interest in the woman but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to show Ghislaine how much he cared about her. He would be the first to find her, the first to show her that he was the one, out of all of them, who was the most concerned. He was obsessed with locating her as he followed the imprints along the west side of the cathedral until they suddenly disappeared into a cluster of foliage next to the river.

  That was where they ended. Now, he was stumped, trying to find her foot impressions in the mud beneath the canopy of trees but it was impossible. Even with the torch in his hand, there simply wasn’t enough light. Therefore, he came to an unhappy halt, unwilling to enter the cluster of bushes any further because he didn’t want to step on any of her imprints that might be there. Daylight would make them more visible and he didn’t want to tramp on anything.

  For the moment, his search seemed to come to an end but a flicker of flame caught his attention. Isolated the source, he could see two men on the bridge several yards away, huddled around a fire to stave off the night and an idea occurred to him. Quickly, he climbed the slope to the road above where it connected to the bridge. Approaching the men on guard, he held out his hands to show that he had no weapons.

  “Gentle men,” he said evenly. “I am searching for an injured woman. Have you seen a limping woman pass this way?”

  He had startled the men, evidenced by the fact that one of them jumped up so fast that his three-legged stool toppled over. They didn’t have swords but they had clubs, and they grabbed at their weapons as the enormous Norman knight approached. Frightened and suspicious, they wielded the clubs, ready to strike.

  “Woman?” one of them spouted off. “There’s been no woman tonight!”

  Aramis came to a halt. “I believe you,” he said. “But I am tracking her footprints and they lead off over there near the river. She may be under the bridge. Do you mind if I look?”

  The pair didn’t move, looking at him very apprehensively. “Where did you come from?” the second man demanded. “Who are you?”

  Aramis knew they’d picked up on his accent. “I mean you no harm. As I said, I am looking for a woman who is injured. It is possible she is even under the bridge, hiding.”

  As he said it, a group of men came charging up behind him, running along the path between the river and the cathedral. The thunder of their feet was enough to terrify the bridge guards completely, who suddenly began banging on a bell that was perched on the end of the bridge. It was obviously some kind of warning system because all around them, lights began flickering on in the homes. The toll of the bell carried and Worcester was coming alive.

  That was not what Aramis had wanted to see. Quickly, he whirled around to the knights who were running up behind him, including Gaetan, and threw up his hands.

  “Stop!” he roared. “You have just alerted the entire town!”

  Winded, Gaetan came to a halt, looking around to see that, indeed, lights were appearing in windows and voices of alarm could be heard. The bridge guards were still banging on the bell and he could see, very quickly, that the situation was deteriorating rapidly. He grabbed Aramis by the arm.

  “Did you find her?” he demanded.

  Aramis shook his head, running back to the spot where the foot imprints had disappeared into the bushes near the river. He was pointing at the mud but no one could really see what he was talking about; the torches were burning out and the moon had sunk over the horizon. It was far too dark to see anything.

  “The imprints disappeared here,” he pointed out. “Either she went into the river or she hid beneath the bridge, but you startled those fool guards before they would allow me to see.”

  Gaetan and Wellesbourne made their way into the foliage, ripping it apart as they came to the river’s edge but it was simply too dark to see very much. People were now starting to come out of their homes with weapons, with shouts of alarm going up. Gaetan knew they had to get out of there or risk fighting off the entire town.

  “Damnation,” he hissed. “We must get out of here. We cannot do battle against everyone in the village.”

  Jathan, standing aback behind the knights who were hunting around in the foliage, looked about fearfully at the townspeople, up in arms. “We can seek sanctuary in the cathedral,” he told them. “We can explain to the priests that we are looking for a lost woman!”

  Not seeing a figure in the water, or even near it, Gaetan made his way out of the bushes as the others looked about as well. “How long would it be before the priests, loyal to the Saxons and not the Normans, opened the doors to the cathedral and let the mob take us away?” he asked, eyeing the people now coming out onto the road by the bridge. “Nay, we must leave now. We will cross the bridge to the other side of the river and….”

  A shout cut him off. “Gate!” It was Wellesbourne. “On the bridge! Look!”

  Everyone strained to see what he was pointing to and, beneath the starry sky, they could see the outline of a big shaggy dog at the opposite end of the bridge.

  God’s Bones, Gaetan knew that shape. He knew that dog.

  Camulos!

  “Cam!” he hissed. He began grabbing men, pulling them from the foliage even as he was running himself. “Come on! We must get across the bridge! She is on the other side!”

  There wasn’t one knight among them who had ever moved faster in his life. In short order, they were plowing through the crowds on the bridge, riding as fast as they could for the dog, who turned and ran up the road, through the dark fields and black forests beyond.

  They followed.

  Ghislaine wasn’t sure how long she had been walking, only that it seemed like endless hours in an endless night. The sky above changed with the hour and she’d lost her bearings some time ago, but she refused to turn back. She refused to go back to that town w
here Gaetan had left her.

  So she continued to walk in the dark, limping heavily on her bad leg. She was confident that once daylight came, she’d be able to discover where she was and go from there. Tenebris wasn’t far from Worcester and, knowing that’s where Gaetan and his men had gone, she was certain she could catch up to them.

  Those were her thoughts, anyway.

  But the reality was that she was still running something of a fever and her body was near to the point of collapse because of her injury. She was weak and the more she walked, the more muddled her mind became. It was oh-so-dark now that the moon had set, making it difficult to go any further. The sky blended with the land and Ghislaine’s rational self, the one that was being suppressed by the illness taking over her mind, knew that it was time to stop. She simply couldn’t go any further.

  Stumbling off the road, Ghislaine pulled the coat she was wearing up around her head, protectively, and wandered into a forest that stretched as far as the eye could see. There was protection here from the road and from the elements, for the most part. Around her were the sounds of the night, of nocturnal creatures looking for food, but she wandered and wandered until something tripped her and she fell forward, into a flooring of leaves that had fallen from the canopy as winter approached. It was rather soft, if not very cold, but Ghislaine wasn’t one to be choosy. With the skirt of her cote wrapped up around her head for warmth and protection, she toppled over into the leaves, exhausted, wounded, and muddled.

  Sleep claimed her immediately.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  ‡

  Capable of Killing

  Near Warwick, 40 miles from Tenebris

  Travel had been slow with Alary and his men, something Kristoph had been exceedingly grateful for considering the injuries he’d sustained during his capture those weeks ago. His ribs were much better and he was feeling as close to normal as could be expected given the circumstances. He still wasn’t getting enough to eat and with all of the walking he’d been doing, because Alary still wouldn’t allow him to ride a horse, he’d lost a significant amount of weight. His trousers were hanging on him now. His wife wasn’t going to even recognize him.

  He’d also grown a fairly bushy beard and his blonde hair, usually cut short, had grown. It was shaggy and dirty, something that bothered him because he was usually well-groomed. But that was of little consequence considering his circumstances, circumstances he soon intended to change.

  He was working on a plan.

  Alary didn’t know he was feeling as good as he was. He was still walking hunched over, pretending to be in pain, and he had generally been acting ill. There was a reason for this; Alary kept him in irons and he was hoping that, at some point, the irons would be removed and he would be able to escape. He was essentially trying to lull his captors into a false sense of security and, so far, it was working.

  He’d been concocting a plan for the last several days. He knew they were far to the north, nearing Alary’s stronghold, and his soldier friend had spoken freely about their path and the towns they’d traveled through, so he had a fairly good idea of where they were and where they were going.

  It was also true that he never doubted for a moment that Gaetan and his comrades were somewhere nearby, perhaps not following him on the same path, but Kristoph knew they were planning to rescue him. Even after Alary’s threat, when news had come from Alary’s spies that they were no longer being followed, Kristoph knew that wasn’t true. His longtime friends and brothers would come for him.

  He would stake his life on it.

  But it was difficult to wait them out, hence the plan he’d been formulating. If he could simply break free of Alary, he could run and hide and the man couldn’t find him. Then he could make his way south, back the way they’d come, and, hopefully, find traces of Gaetan and the men to follow. If they were looking for him, perhaps he could look for them. It wasn’t the best plan, but he simply couldn’t remain Alary’s prisoner any longer. He was afraid that one more day, or even one more hour, might see Alary cut something else off or decide to beat him again. He wasn’t going to stand by while that happened.

  He had to make his move.

  Tonight, they were on the outskirts of Warwick, a fairly large town that had seen its share of traffic throughout the evening. Once again, Kristoph was in the livery with his guards and the animals, cushioned by surprisingly fresh hay this night as the sounds of the tavern across the yard filled the air. There was laughter and the smell of meat in the air, and he could even hear what he thought was a citole. Someone was playing and singing.

  As he lay back and listened to the sounds that were comforting and friendly in nature, and not reminding him of his dire situation, his friendly guard, Mostig, came out of the back of the tavern with a trencher of food in his hands.

  Kristoph saw the man enter the livery and he sat up, eagerly awaiting his only meal of the day. Mostig approached him and delivered the food at his feet. There was a hunk of boiled meat on it and a heaping pile of boiled vegetables, and Kristoph began eating like a man who had never seen food in his life. He shoved it in his mouth, devouring it, as Mostig loosened his chains.

  “It is crowded in the tavern tonight,” Mostig said. “There is a great Saxon lord inside, traveling with his daughter. Lord Alary has told him of you and he is interested.”

  Mouth full, Kristoph looked at Mostig with curiosity. “Interested? What do you mean?”

  “In you.”

  “Why?”

  “For his daughter from what I heard.”

  Kristoph stopped chewing, struggling to swallow what was in his mouth. “For his daughter?” he repeated, puzzled. “I do not understand.”

  Mostig shrugged. “The homely girl is not married yet.”

  “But… I am already married.”

  “That will not make the lord happy.”

  Kristoph frowned. “You know I am married,” he said. “We have spoken of my wife and daughter frequently. I cannot and will not marry another woman.”

  Mostig wasn’t unsympathetic. He and the Norman knight had been together constantly and they’d formed an odd bond of sorts. Mostig even considered them friends, as strange as that seemed. In a sense, he was concerned for his friend’s safety because he knew Alary. He knew what the man was capable of. A worried expression rippled across his face.

  “But the lord offered to pay Lord Alary a great deal for you,” he said. “Lord Alary is considering it. Norman, if you marry her, then you will no longer be subject to Lord Alary and his whims. He can no longer cut your finger off or beat you or harm you. If you are sold, then you must go for your own sake. Get out of here while you can.”

  Kristoph couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He stopped eating completely and fixed Mostig with a serious glare. “I told Alary my family would pay him well for my safe return but he would not take it,” he said, incredulous. “Yet, he will sell me to a Saxon lord as a husband for the man’s daughter?”

  His voice was growing loud and Mostig hastened to quiet him. “Do not speak so loudly or Lord Alary will hear,” he hissed. “If you are sold, it will be the best thing for you. Do you understand? They will more than likely not keep you in irons. You will be… free.”

  It was a hint to escape, as clear as the subject had ever been spoken of between them, and Kristoph backed off a little, studying the man and considering his words. Certainly, a husband would not be kept in chains. Kristoph pondered the idea a moment before speaking.

  “Mostig, I have not said this to you before, but I will now,” he said. “You are a man without a family… help me escape and I shall see that you are amply rewarded. You could command a fine bride with the money I would reward you with. Does this not appeal to you?”

  Mostig’s eyes widened. “I could not do it! Lord Alary would kill me if he discovered what I had done!”

  Kristoph could see the fear in the man’s eyes. “You will come with me,” he assured him. “Alary would never see you again. You
do not have to worry about such things. The money I could give you would keep you comfortable for the rest of your life, I assure you. Mostig, please – will you not help me?”

  Mostig was staring at him with big eyes, perhaps seriously considering the offer. He was torn between his fear of Alary and the lure of a great reward. He scratched his head after a moment, watching Kristopher as the man resumed his meal.

  “I… I do not know,” he finally said. “It would be a terrible risk. Lord Alary has allies everywhere in the north. We would have to flee to the south.”

  Kristoph finished the last of the meat, chewing loudly. “And we could do that,” he said, trying to sound confident because he was attempting to convince the man to betray his liege. “Once I reach my Norman brethren, you would have nothing to fear. Mayhap, you could even serve me. I have hundreds of men but you would have a place of honor among them.”

  Mostig liked that thought a great deal. With Alary, he had no place of honor. He was a soldier, just like all the rest. But what this Norman was promising him was appealing. He was a weak man, in truth, and simply wanted to find someplace where he belonged. Ever since he’d lost his family, that was his only desire. Now, the Norman was offering him such a thing. It was difficult to resist.

  “Would… would I live in Normandy?” he asked timidly. “I have never been there, you know.”

  Kristoph began to feel some hope. Was it possible he could sway his guard to help him? “You could live wherever you wanted to,” he said. “I intend to have lands here in England, so if you wanted to live here, you could. Or, you could go to my properties in Normandy. It would be your choice.”

  Mostig liked what he was hearing and he was quite seriously considering everything he’d been told. Still, he was fearful, mostly of Alary. He’d seen what the man was capable of with traitors and he was genuinely concerned that his attempt to help a prisoner might be discovered. That fear kept him from accepting Kristoph’s offer.