Jerval recognized the roan stallion in the next instant. It was Thunder, old now, but strong, steady, still valuable. He saw the man slash out at one of the Scots, draw blood, but then another of them closed behind him and jerked off his cap. A thick golden braid swung free.
By all the saints, it was Chandra.
No, no, it simply couldn’t be his wife, that damned stubborn girl he’d locked in their bedchamber to keep her safe. Instant fear froze the blood in his veins.
But he wasn’t surprised. He was many thing in that moment, but no, he wasn’t surprised. He closed his eyes a moment against the fear of it.
He cursed even as he prayed that her hair would save her life. No man—even a Scot—would want to stick his sword through a woman. No, a man would want to rape a woman, not kill her.
“A girl,” Alan Durwald shouted. “It’s a bloody girl.” He could not believe his eyes, and his men pulled their horses back, gaping at her in surprise. Alan slewed his head about to see the mounted Englishmen bearing down on them, their swords at the ready. They’d used this girl for bait? She was their tethered goat? He hated the English to his very soul, always had, but he had never imagined they could be so devious, so conniving.
He gazed for a moment at that beautiful dirty face, recognized the wild fury in her eyes for what it was. What was going on here? He reached out his hand and grabbed her long braid, pulling her off balance. With his other hand, he brought his knife down and severed part of the braid.
Chandra tried to pull away, but in the next instant, the man Alan had smashed his horse against hers, jerked her out of her saddle and thrown her facedown over his thighs. Her sword went spinning from her hand and clattered to the rocky ground. He ripped the quiver off her shoulder and flung it away.
“Let’s be gone, lads, quickly, quickly.” Alan Durwald knew they had but a few moments to escape the Englishmen galloping furiously toward them. “Aye, it’s a marvelous prize we’ve won this trip!”
Chandra yelled at the top of her lungs and tried to rear up, but he smashed his hand down, pinning her.
“Hush, my little lad,” Alan said, and stroked his fingers over her.
She cursed him, but her voice was muffled against his thigh. He laughed harder.
He was ahead of his men now. He shouted back over his shoulder, “I will meet ye at the border. Angus, ye go fetch the other men and the cattle. The rest of ye, fight off the English bastards. I will see that our prize is kept safe.”
Jerval rode straight toward the first of the yelling Scots, his powerful arm raised. The man hacked at him, spittle spewing from his mouth as he shouted curses, but it was quickly over. Jerval’s sword plunged into the man’s chest and emerged a foot from his back. He yanked his sword back and saw the man’s eyes widen in astonishment as he slid off his horse and sprawled on the rocky ground.
Jerval wheeled about in his saddle, looking frantically for Chandra. He saw her, in the distance, thrown facedown in front of one of the Scots. “Mark, kill the rest of them, and then follow me.” He wheeled Pith about and dug in his heels.
“Faster, Sunnart,” Chandra heard the man Alan yelling at his powerful stallion. He looked over his shoulder and saw that one of the Englishmen had turned from his men and was galloping after them. “Well, lass,” Alan said, his hand hard against the small of her back to hold her still, “it appears that one of the English wants ye for himself.”
She knew it had to be Jerval. He would save her. She managed to rear up just a bit and yelled, “It is my husband, and he will kill you. You must let me go.”
“Yer husband? That lie will bring ye many a fair night in hell. If he were yer husband, ye stupid wench, ye wouldn’t be here now. Ye’d be safe, far away from here. No husband would let his wife dress like a boy and ride into battle. No husband would be such a fool unless he wanted to rid himself o’ ye.
“And ye were by yerself. Ye lie, for even a gutless Englishman wouldn’t be that stupid. Now ye think that coward will kill me? I dinna think so, lass. I’m hard to catch, much less kill. He has a bit o’ distance to cover to catch us. Already his beast is tiring. My Sunnart will get us to safety. Ye will bring me a fine ransom, my little lad. Mayhap that man is yer lover? Aye, but ye no longer please him in his bed? He wants to be rid of ye now? Aye, that’s it, isn’t it?” And he laughed.
Chandra could see nothing, for the dust the stallion kicked up was clogging her nostrils and burning her eyes. Her plan had gone wrong. Everything had gone wrong. She had broken the glass window in the bedchamber. She had, quite simply, ruined everything.
She had to get away from this man, else he might try to use her to kill Jerval. She would not let that happen. She closed her eyes against the dust, then gritted her teeth. He had to make a mistake soon—he had to. Patience, she had to have patience, and remain alert and ready.
“An insistent man, that Englishman,” Alan said after a few more minutes of hard riding. “He doesn’t know the eastern forest—that will slow him. Aye, we’ll lose him in amongst the trees.”
He raised his hand from her back. Instantly, Chandra tried to wrench herself free. She reared up, twisted even as she was readying to hurl herself to the ground. She nearly made it, knew that when she hit the ground, she had to roll fast. She felt the point of a dagger pressing through her clothes, its razor tip nipping the flesh of her side.
“Hold still, wench, else yer lover will find a dead mistress in a ditch. Does he dress ye like a boy because it pleases him to do so? The English are pederasts—all know that—but to dress a lass like a little warrior and send her out as bait—by a man’s balls, that’s a gutless thing to do. Are ye worth so little to him?”
He believed Jerval was so dishonorable that he’d used her as bait to draw out the Scots? What was a pederast? She lay like a sack of peat, afraid even to breathe. They gained the forest. She saw the blur of trees, heard the crunch of leaves and the tear of bushes beneath Sunnart’s hooves. A branch slashed her face. She pressed her face downward against his thigh to protect herself.
He laughed—the madman actually laughed as he said, “There’ll be time enough later for that, lass. Aye, I’ll show ye what a man can be. A Scotsman is no pederast. It’s pleased I am to see ye so interested. Yer tired of yer cold Englishman? Well, it matters not since he is obviously tired o’ ye.” He jabbed the tip of the knife into her flesh again, and she felt the brief sting, then the wet of her blood beneath her clothes.
Jerval pulled Pith to a halt to wait for his men. He knew he wouldn’t find the Scotsman in the forest; he needed Thoms to track him. Christ, he thought, cold with fear for her, he should have tied her down, left two men to stand over her, guarding her every waking hour. Her pride, her damnable pride. He steeled himself against the sight of her flung facedown before the Scot.
Lambert shouted, “We killed the three bastards. But there’s no sign of the cattle.”
“They split up,” Mark said. “We need to send our men after them.”
Jerval motioned for six men, Rolfe at their head, to go after the cattle.
“Where is milady?” Thoms asked.
“Their leader has her,” Jerval said, and the sound of his own words froze him all the way to his bones, but only for an instant. “He rode into the forest. Thoms, you must track him.”
Then he paused, thinking. “Ranulfe, I don’t believe he will hide in the forest for long. He needs to get to the border, needs to see to the cattle he stole, come together with his other men. We will skirt the forest northward, by the sea. With luck, he’ll veer eventually our way and we’ll have him. But Thoms, find his tracks and keep close to him. It’s possible he may go to the east. We have enough men. Set up a relay so if he decides to come out to the west, we will have warning.”
Jerval was right. Not an hour later, Rolfe shouted, “You were right, Jerval. The bastard is headed northwest, out of the forest. Thoms will stay well behind him, but he said it was obviously the man’s direction. Aye, the damned Scot wants to mak
e better time and he cannot do it in the forest. It’s nearly dark.”
They rode hard, hoping to get well ahead of the Scot before he broke out of the trees. “We must catch them before dark,” Jerval said once, then said it again, and all the men knew what he was thinking.
“Don’t forget that he’s carrying Chandra,” Mark said. “It will slow him even more. You know too that she will fight him at every opportunity.”
Jerval knew it well. He prayed the Scot wouldn’t finally decide she wasn’t worth risking his life for and slit her throat.
But night was falling. It wouldn’t be long now. Jerval thought of the man alone with his wife and thought he’d choke on his rage, and his helplessness.
Alan Durwald reined in his exhausted stallion and slewed his head back. A gentle rise blocked his view, but he could see no clouds of dust from pursuing horses. They’d been out of the forest for only a few minutes now. There was no one about. He was safe. He’d lost the Englishman. He said, even as he pressed his fingers inward on her hips, “Well, my cheeky little lady, it appears that yer lover has at last given up, or I’ve outsmarted him or mayhap he just didn’t care. Another half hour, and it will be dark. And then, wench, we can take our rest. I do hope yer lover will still want to pay yer ransom when I’m done with ye.”
You will have to kill me first, Chandra thought. She tried to pull herself upward, but he grabbed her hair, wrapping it tight about his hand, making her scalp burn, and pressed her face down again. She saw the crimson of the sun setting over the sea. Please, she prayed silently, please be close by.
Alan Durwald clicked Sunnart forward toward the next rise, swiveling about in his saddle again to look back at the rutted path behind them. He was pleased until he turned forward again. Chandra felt him tense, and then he cursed, a torrent of Scottish oaths she did not understand, but she felt the fury of them to her bones. He whipped his horse about and rode back south, back toward the forest. He cursed again. He saw more of the English coming out of the forest. They’d been tracking him. Somehow the others had gotten ahead of him. What to do? He was pinned between the two groups.
Suddenly, Sunnart stumbled, and his great body heaved with effort, throwing Chandra up against the man’s chest. She gave a howl of fury and mashed her fist into his groin as the stallion reared. Alan grunted in pain, tried to control the panicked Sunnart. Chandra threw herself sideways, breaking free of his arm.
Her joy lasted only until she struck the rocky ground. The impact knocked the breath from her, and she rolled head over heels down a sharp incline. Jagged rocks tore through her clothes and flesh. She couldn’t stop herself, her fingers grabbing at rocks, at bushes, but she couldn’t keep a hold. Then her head struck a rock and she didn’t know when she finally rolled to a stop.
“Wake up, Chandra. Damn you, don’t you dare die on me.”
She slowly opened her eyes at the sound of his furious voice. Jerval? Her head felt as though it would explode, the pain was so bad.
“Look at me, you damned woman!”
She blinked then and looked up into her husband’s face. He looked angrier than she’d ever seen him. He looked ready to kill. She managed to wet her lips. “Did you catch him?”
“Good, you’re awake.” He paid her no more attention. He was feeling each of her arms, her legs. “Is there pain?” He was pressing his hand against her belly.
“No.”
“And here?”
His hands were splayed on her ribs. She winced.
“I don’t think they’re broken. By all the saints’ white teeth, you’re a mess.” Jerval lifted her slowly to her feet. “Can you stand?”
“Please, Jerval, did you catch him? He is their leader.”
“My men are chasing him, but he’s veered into the forest again between our two forces. I decided to see if you were alive.”
“You must ride after him, Jerval. You mustn’t let him escape.”
“Shut up,” he said and released her. There was blood on his hands, her blood. “Your head will hurt from that rock you hit, but you deserve it.”
He had believed he could forgive her anything if only he found her alive. He’d been wrong. He took a step back from her, knowing that if he touched her again, he would thrash her, mayhap even strangle her. He wiped her blood on his trousers.
She saw his fury, knew that fury of his was greater than it had been just the moment before, but it didn’t matter. She said, “He saw you coming after him and whipped his horse about, but his horse stumbled and I hit him in the groin and managed to jump. His name is Alan. That’s what his men called him. He is their leader. We must hurry, Jerval, before he gets too far ahead of us.”
Jerval stared down at her, angry cords straining in his neck. He was nearly incoherent with rage. He drew a deep breath, still not approaching her. He said, his voice as low and soft as a gentle mist, “Do you have any idea what would have happened to you if we had not seen the Scots surround you?”
“Of course I know. My father trained me well, if you would just but recognize it. I would have killed two of them, but then I would have been hurt or killed myself.”
It was true. He closed his eyes a moment, words beyond him.
“Thank you,” she said low. She lightly touched her dirty fingers to his shoulder.
“Do not touch me.”
He’d spaced each word apart. She dropped her hand. “Thank you for coming after me.”
“I should have let you fend for yourself.”
“I did fend for myself. I managed to get away from him.”
“I saw what happened. When he realized that he was caught between my men, his horse panicked and you took your chance, as I would expect anyone to. Now, you know what he intended, don’t you? He would have raped you, and then if he had not killed you, you would have been hauled across the border and held for ransom. By God, it might have been good riddance.”
“Aye, I know what he intended. I would have died first before I let him rape me. He thought you had used me as bait, that I was your mistress, that since all Englishmen were pederasts, it pleased you to dress me up like a boy.”
“Now I am a pederast,” he said, and then he laughed. “The truth of it is that you did make excellent bait. We had ridden past him, as you know. I doubt we would have caught him if he hadn’t come out to get you.” And he laughed more.
“What is a pederast?”
“It is a man who prefers other men, not women.”
“But that makes no sense at all.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“I don’t feel well,” she said then, and fell to her knees and vomited, shaking and heaving, wanting to die. She hurt all over.
He didn’t touch her, just stood over her, his arms crossed over his chest. When she was done heaving, he said, “He sliced off your braid, a good foot of it. You look more like a boy now than before. Oh, yes, his name is Alan Durwald. He is rather infamous for the ferocity of his raids.”
She felt too wretched to touch her hair, but she felt it dangling to her shoulders, no further. “It is just hair,” she managed to say at last. “It isn’t important.”
Thoms shouted, “He escaped us, Jerval. Damnation, but he knows every hiding place in the forest. That wouldn’t matter so much, but now it is dark and we haven’t a chance of tracking him.”
“I know,” Jerval called back. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Is Chandra all right?” Mark said as he swung off his horse’s back.
“She is herself,” Jerval said, his teeth clenched. He strode to his destrier and leapt into the saddle. “We will hope Ranulfe and his men find and secure the cattle. Now there is nothing more for us here. We will ride down the coast a bit until we find a sheltered inlet for the night. Tomorrow we return to Camberley.”
Bayon was leading the roan stallion to her. He nickered as she walked to him. She stood there a moment, staring up. She hurt everywhere, felt the chill evening air and the blood drying against her flesh through her torn
clothes. But it didn’t matter. Alan Durwald was gone. She was safe. She gritted her teeth and pulled herself up into the saddle.
Jerval watched her from the corner of his eye, but did not turn to face her. When she rode up next to him, he said, “Just how did you get out of my bedchamber?”
“I knotted sheets and climbed out the window.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Did it not occur to you that everyone would be frantic when they found you gone?”
“I was sorry for that. Truly I was, but don’t you see, I had to prove myself to you?”
“Aye, you did just that, didn’t you? And look at the outcome. Not so very skilled, are you? You didn’t stand a chance.”
“I would have if I had been one of your men, if I had fought at your side, if I had not been alone. No one could have managed by himself. Perhaps you would have, but it would have been very difficult, even for you.”
She was utterly serious. He said nothing for a very long time, then, “I have been wondering if I can haul you out to sea and drown you.”
She wondered if he meant it. Then she felt too numb to care.
CHAPTER 18
They stopped to make camp twenty minutes later. It was dark, with thick clouds rolling across the sky and a half moon giving enough light to collect wood for a fire. Chandra found herself alone, for the men as well as her husband ignored her and kept their distance. It was cold. She pulled her blanket around her shoulders and moved closer to the fire. She was jerking the burned rabbit meat away from the bone when Mark came around the fire to sit cross-legged beside her.
He saw that she was covered with cuts and bruises. He said, however, “You are eating, so you must feel all right.”
“Aye. My head hurts, that is all.”