The road was not in the best of condition and more than once, the horses tripped in the ruts. Even though it was bright and their path well-lit, they ended up slowing their frantic pace because to go any faster, with the conditions, was dangerous. They were surrounded by open fields so their field of visibility was wide, adding to the decision to slow their pace. There were no places to hide for bandits or others who preyed upon open travelers these days, so as long as the knights had a clear field of vision, they were comfortable with the lesser pace.
Hunt had fallen asleep against his mother at some point and Cantia held the boy’s hands at her waist, his little arms wrapped around her so he wouldn’t slide off. In spite of her separation anxiety from Tevin, she was beginning to enjoy the travel with the ghostly moon and fairly mild weather. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and occasionally, a night bird would sail across the darkness. The more distance they put between them and Rochester, the more they all began to calm and settle in for the trip. With any luck, the hard part was over.
Dagan and Gavril eventually came to the fork in the road that Tevin had described and took the road to the left as instructed. They then continued on along a smaller section of road, now being intermittently dotted by clusters of dense, black trees. The trees made the knights nervous so they slung their shields, weapons at the ready, and that made Cantia nervous as well. Men prepared for battle invited apprehension and she found herself looking around, seeing if she could spy robbers hiding out in the growth. Her somewhat pleasant trip was turning apprehensive again.
Somewhere, an owl hooted as they passed through a particularly dark section of trees. It smelled heavily of leaves and wet, eerie phantoms lurking in the blackness. With Cantia caught up in watching the surrounding area for an army of murders to come flying out at them, Dagan, covering their rear, was watching Cantia.
When he had been summoned to escort the lady and her son out of Rochester, he had been in the vault in discussion with Charles again. Their conversation had been quiet and not overheard. During the course of that conversation, he’d come to a great many conclusions, not the least of which was the fact that he had decided to accept Charles’ offer.
It hadn’t been a simple choice, but one he felt was best for him. The difficultly had been in figuring out how to separate the lady from du Reims because the man was rabidly protective of her, and when he had been summoned to escort the lady and her son from Rochester, he considered it an omen. Perhaps God was telling him his decision had been correct, that it was indeed time to take charge of his destiny. It was an unbelievably fortuitous occurrence, one he accepted eagerly.
Now, there were only a couple of things that stood in his way. As the party from Rochester made their way south, Dagan made plans for Gavril and Val. True, his plans for the knights were not honorable and for that, he was sincerely sorry. But his mind was made up. It was the time in his life to take opportunities when presented or remain a lesser knight in du Reims’ stable for the rest of his life. No wealth, no glory, no opportunities for him. This was his last chance.
Dagan knew that Gavril would not go along with his decision, which at this point, signed the man’s death warrant. Val would be a problem also, but she was encumbered with the viscount’s daughter, making her an easy target. The children would be spared and he would take them, plus Cantia, to the nearest church where he would marry the lady without delay. His plan was in place and he was prepared. As they neared a particularly thick cluster of trees and the moon was blotted out by the heavy canopy, Dagan began to move.
At the rear of the column, he spurred his charger forward and unsheathed a large dirk with a heavy steel hilt, one he used for close-quarters combat. He passed close to Val on his right, slugging her on the back of the head as hard as he could and sending her toppling over onto the ground.
As Arabel, who fell off of the horse along with her aunt, screamed in shock and fear, Gavril turned around towards the source of the scream only to see his cousin bearing down on him. Startled, the man didn’t have a chance to unsheathe his sword before Dagan threw the dirk at him, catching him in the neck.
Gavril plummeted to the ground, the enormous dirk in his neck that had not only cut off his air supply, but had severed a major artery. He lifted his hand to remove the weapon, but before he could even get a grip on it, he bled out all over the rocky, uneven road. Gavril de Reigate’s life ended with a view of the heavens above on a lovely night, wondering what in the world had happened to make it all end this way.
With all of the screaming and chaos, Cantia’s palfrey had bolted off the road, dumping both her and Hunt onto the ground. As she picked herself up and grabbed her son, having no idea what was going on, Dagan came thundering in her direction.
“Halt!” Dagan bellowed, seeing that she was preparing to run. “Stay where you are.”
Frightened, Cantia froze. “What has happened?” She could hear Arabel crying. “Arabel! Is she injured? And where is Val?”
Dagan pulled his foaming charger to a halt, gazing down at the lovely Lady Penden and her tow-headed son. He tried not to feel guilty for what he had just done.
“Stay here and do not move,” he instructed.
Uncertain, Cantia did as she was told, holding tight to Hunt as Dagan reined his charger over to where Val was lying unconscious in the grass by the side of the road. Arabel was sitting beside her aunt, weeping, as Dagan dismounted his charger and picked the girl up. Arabel wept harder, trying to resist him, as he carried the girl over to where Cantia and Hunt were huddled. Cantia instinctively held out her arms to the girl and Dagan deposited her into the waiting embrace.
Cantia wasn’t a particularly large woman so holding Arabel was somewhat cumbersome, but she held her as tightly and as securely as she could manage. Arabel wrapped her thin arms around Cantia’s neck, sobbing, as Cantia shushed her softly. Dagan stood in front of the pair, fists resting on his hips.
“Now,” he began softly, with a firm yet sinister cast to his tone. “You and I have something to discuss, lady.”
Cantia looked up from Arabel’s lowered head. “What…?” she shook her head, her fear and confusion growing. “What are you talking about? Have we been attacked?”
Dagan shook his head. “We have not,” he said. “What I did was necessary.”
Cantia stared at him, his angular features beneath the muted moonlight, and her heart began to pound. “What you did?” she repeated. “What do you mean?”
Dagan wouldn’t look over his shoulder at the carnage he had created. It was easier to pretend he was still an honorable knight if he didn’t see it.
“Charles Penden has presented me with a proposal that I have decided to accept,” he said. “You are to be my wife and, along with that, your property shall become mine. It is my intention to ransom the viscount’s daughter for Charles Penden’s release and your dowry, whereupon you, me, Charles and your son will be able to live quite comfortably anywhere we choose.”
Cantia stared at him. It began to occur to her that what happened was not a random attack from unseen bandits, but an enemy that had come from within. Dagan, the big, quiet knight she’d barely said two words to since she had met him, had turned and Charles Penden was at the heart of it. By hook, crook or magic, Charles had somehow bewitched the man to turn against her. Damn him! Furious, terrified, she snapped.
“I am not Charles Penden’s chattel to be brokered,” she backed away from Dagan with Arabel in her arms. “And I am certainly not to be brokered to a lowly knight in exchange for a madman’s freedom. Have you lost your senses?”
Dagan remained cool. “Fortunately, no,” he said, rather drolly. “I realize this is something of a shock, Lady Penden, but perhaps you will come to understand my reasoning if would allow me to explain.”
Cantia was still backing away from him, nearly in a panic. “I will not listen to anything,” she snarled, trying to get a glimpse of Val still lying in a heap near the road. “Let me see to Val immediately and you had
better pray that she is not severely injured, do you hear me? You will go back to your horse and wait until we are ready to continue.”
She was giving orders, trying to gain control of the situation, but Dagan would not relent. “You may not see to Val,” he was standing between Cantia and Tevin’s downed sister. Then he looked at Hunt, huddled apprehensively behind his mother. “Master Penden, you will go and retrieve your mother’s palfrey. She is over by the tree line.”
He was pointing but Hunt shook his head fearfully and burrowed his face into the back of his mother. Cantia was trying to edge her way in Val’s direction.
“I am not going anywhere with you,” she snarled. “You are mad, do you hear? I am going to help Val and I will kill you if you stand in my way.”
Dagan’s movements were slow, deliberate, as he kept himself between Cantia and Val. Cantia was trying very hard to reach the woman but it was difficult considering she had the burden of a small boy and a crippled girl. Dagan admired the woman’s pluck.
“I understand and appreciate your loyalty, but you will forgive me when I deny you again,” he said evenly. “Send your son to get your palfrey. I’ve already killed two this night and a third would not be such an effort if I feel my wants are not being met.”
Cantia’s rage took a dousing. She stared at the man. “Why are you doing this?” she finally asked, hoarsely. “What have we done that would make you do this to us?”
Dagan struggled against his innate sense of regret, of uncertainty. It was difficult to stay on course. “Nothing, my lady,” he said after a moment. “But you must understand that you do not have any choice in the matter. The decision has been made. It would be best if you do not resist.”
“Please… do not do this.”
“Tell your son to retrieve your horse. Do it now.”
Sickened, terrified, she swallowed her resistance and sent Hunt to gather the mare. In her arms, Arabel was sniffling and trembling, and she squeezed the girl reassuringly. The truth was that her arms were beginning to hurt, carrying the girl around, but she would not let on. The only other alternative was for Dagan to carry her and Cantia wasn’t about to let the man touch her.
Frightened and edgy, Cantia found herself wondering how she could get herself and the children out of this. As it turned out, Geoff wasn’t the one to worry about at all. It had been Charles and a rogue knight. The irony of the situation was unfathomable. She wondered if she would live long enough to tell Tevin.
As she stood several feet away from Dagan, inspecting the man, trying to determine her next course of action, a shrieking sound pierced the air a split second before something hit Dagan in the chest and the man grunted, hurling to the ground. Startled, Cantia screamed, realizing there was a big arrow protruding from Dagan’s torso. Behind her, she could hear Hunt yelling, the yellow dog barking, and the palfrey nickering fearfully.
As she turned around, she could see men rushing from the trees. They were shrouded by shadows and it was difficult to get a good look at them, but she could hear Hunt hollering and panic swamped her.
“Hunt!” she screamed. “Hunt, come to me! Run!”
It was a futile call because Hunt was already being swallowed up by the phantom men. They were everywhere, like a swarm of locusts, and she could hear their frightening chatter. They only used the light of the moon to guide them as they overcame their victims. The next thing Cantia realized, someone put a blanket over her head as she tried to get away with Arabel in her arms. Struggling, fighting, Arabel was taken from her and she could hear the young girl screaming.
Terrified, Cantia fought like a wildcat as someone picked her up and hauled her off, wrapped up in a hot, smelly blanket so she couldn’t see or get her arms free. She began screaming for the children, calling their name, before finally resorting to begging for their lives. But her abductors never said a word to her. They just kept running.
As quickly as they had emerged, they disappeared back into the darkness, leaving two dead knights in their wake.
CHAPTER TWELVE
It was nearing noon on a day that was showing the promise of warmer weather. A cloudless sky glistened overhead and Tevin found himself gazing from the lancet window, looking up to the sky and wondering how Cantia was faring. The solar of Rochester had a west-facing window and he leaned against the sill, watching the birds flock over the river, hearing the distant bells of the boats. It was lovely and serene, but it meant absolutely nothing to him without Cantia by his side.
He hadn’t been away from her for more than twelve hours but, as he had predicted, he missed her more with each breath he took. It was a physical pain, manifesting itself in his chest until he could scarcely breathe. He turned away from the window, his thoughts moving from Cantia to Geoff and thankful for the fact that his cousin had drank himself into a stupor the night before and was still sleeping off the excess. The man hadn’t given the effort of thought to the missing Lady Penden or to Val, and Tevin was grateful. The delay had given him time to think up a plausible reason for the missing. He was prepared.
So he went back to his map table, studying the area north of the Dartford crossing where two of Geoff’s men, who had been in the area only yesterday, had come to Rochester with tales of an armed buildup. An army was gathering and Tevin was preparing to send more of his trusted men into the area as spies to see what more information they could gather.
He immediately thought of Simon and John for the duty, those two disobedient knights who had shrugged the escort duty to Dagan and Gavril. He hadn’t seen the men since yesterday but he knew they were around, more than likely attempting to wait out their liege’s displeasure. He smirked when he thought of sending the pair on a scout mission into dangerous territory. Perhaps running into an ambush or having arrows shot at their head would make them sorry they had disobeyed their liege on the relatively easy escort mission.
As he settled down to figure out a covert route for his men to take where they could make a quick escape, Myles appeared in the doorway.
“Tevin,” his voice was low, swift. “You must come immediately.”
Tevin didn’t give thought to the fact that the man did not address him formally. He was more concerned with the tone of his voice.
“What is the matter?” he asked.
Myles’ expression tightened. “No questions,” he hissed. “You must come. Now.”
He ducked out of the doorway, heading for the keep entry. Tevin follow, more curious than concerned, as they made their way out of the keep and headed towards the knight’s quarters. Myles was walking quickly, stiffly, all coiled up like a spring ready to pop as they crossed the ward and approached the thick stone building that housed the knights. Built against the perimeter wall of Rochester, it was a squat, imposing structure.
It was moderately dark inside due to the fact that the building had no windows except for big ventilation holes up by the roof line. The floor plan consisted of a large common room and six smaller sleeping chambers. It was dusty and dark at any given time. There were a few senior men-at-arms crowded into the common room, eyeing Tevin with some concern as he entered. Tevin didn’t particularly notice the expressions, as he was more focused on Myles as the man led him into a tiny corridor and indicated the first room to the right.
Tevin stuck his head into the chamber, his gaze first envisioning a darkened room and nothing more. Then, he saw a big yellow dog lying next to the small bed and it took him a moment to realize it was George. George lifted his head when he saw Tevin, big sad doggy eyes gazing up at him as the tail thumped wearily against the floor. The last Tevin had seen of the dog, he had left with Cantia and the rest of the group. Startled to realize the dog had returned, his gaze moved to the bed.
Val lay upon the mattress, bruised and beaten. Lying on her right side, she had a massive compress of some kind against her head and neck. Tevin must have made some kind of noise because her eyes opened and she turned stiffly to look at him as he collapsed to his knees beside the bed. Tev
in’s face was white with terror.
“Val,” he hissed. “What are you doing here?”
Val’s eyes filled with tears and she grasped her brother’s hand. Her lovely face was scraped from where she had fallen on it and the lump on the back of her head was causing her horrific pain. She clutched at Tevin.
“Oh, Tevin,” she wept. “We… we were ambushed. They killed Dagan and Gavril, and took Cantia and the children.”
Tevin felt as if he had been hit in the gut. He couldn’t breathe and he could feel his face flushing hot, then cold again. He began to shake uncontrollably, holding on to Val’s hand with a death grip.
“What happened?” he struggled with everything he possessed to remain calm. “Did you see who it was? Did they bear colors or anything else of note?”
Val was weeping in pain and sorrow. “Nay,” she breathed. “I was knocked unconscious and when I woke up, Dagan and Gavril were dead and Cantia missing. I… my head… it was difficult to move so I do not know how long I lay in the grass before rising to my feet. It was nighttime when the attack happened and at least dawn when I awoke. I started to walk back to Rochester and found Dagan’s charger a little way up the road. I was able to ride him back here so I could tell you what happened.”
Tevin could see how badly she was injured. He stroked her head, gently, though his hand was trembling. “I can only imagine how much pain you are in,” he murmured. “You were very brave, Val.”
Val’s eyes spilled over. “I am so sorry, Tevin,” she whispered. “I never saw what hit me. I had no chance to defend Arabel or Cantia.”
He shook his head, soothing her. “It is not your fault,” he said, but his voice was tremulous. He tried to keep his head, asking questions that might help them make sense of it all. “You heard or saw nothing before you lost consciousness?”
Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume 1 Page 60