“I tossed the chit in a cellar for a few hours and let it be known to the pretty boy she was with what I planned to do with her. He rode away like a shot and I’m sure he was headed south toward the forest where Montgomery hides. And as for men, there won’t be time for him to collect them. Now he’s surrounded by criminals and out-of-works. None of them can ride a horse, much less wield a sword.”
Alyx bit her lower lip to keep from defending Raine. It was much better that Pagnell thought Raine defenseless; perhaps then Pagnell would send only a few men to capture Raine.
What was she thinking about? Raine would never come after her after what she’d done to him. She doubted very much if he’d speak to Jocelin. The forest guards reported to Raine whenever someone approached, and all Raine had to do was refuse Joss entrance—which he’d surely do. If Jocelin tried to sneak into the forest, Raine could order the guards to kill him. No! Raine wouldn’t do that, would he? And what if Jocelin did somehow get to Raine? Would Raine believe Joss? Would he care what happened to Alyx?
“He’ll come,” Pagnell repeated. “And when he does, we’ll be ready for him.”
Chapter Fourteen
ALYX LOOKED OUT the window of the small stonewalled room and into the courtyard below, watching with horrified fascination as the carpenters built the gallows for her burning. It had been eight long, terrifying days since she’d been taken by Pagnell, and during that time she’d been subjected to a fiasco of a trial.
The men who ran the trial had been some of Pagnell’s relatives, and he’d easily persuaded them to his views. Alyx listened to it all, for they talked about her as if she weren’t there, and her head echoed with Raine’s words.
Raine and she had argued so many times about the rising middle class. Alyx had always adored King Henry, loved the way he was taking away the power from the nobles, was forcing the nobles to pay wages and no longer own serfs. But Raine said the King was turning the nobles into fat merchants, that if the ruling class had to count pennies they would forget their knightly virtues, would no longer know the meaning of honor. She talked of people being more equal, but Raine asked who would do the fighting if England were attacked. If there weren’t a class of people freed from money making to stay strong and practice warfare, who would protect England?
As Alyx sat through the “trial,” she began to see more clearly what Raine meant. The judges didn’t for a minute believe she was a witch, and Alyx marveled at this because the people in her town believed quite strongly in witches, and had a multitude of ways to protect themselves from evil curses.
All the judges cared about was winning the King’s favor and reaping the rewards that came with the King’s pleasure. Pagnell told them that she carried Raine Montgomery’s child and, like vultures, they jumped on this fact. Raine had been declared a traitor, and with a little more pushing, he could have his lands given to someone else. King Henry loved to create his own nobles, to give out titles to anyone rich enough to buy one. The judges hoped he would give some of the Montgomery lands to them if they delivered Raine—or his head—to the King.
Alyx sat silently through the whole proceedings as they plotted and planned, laughed and argued. At the end, they pushed her into a cart and drove her through the little town—she didn’t even know its name—a man walking before her declaring her to be a witch.
As if she were someone else, Alyx watched the people cross themselves, make crosses of their fingers, turn away lest she look on them with an evil eye, and the bolder ones threw food and offal at her. She wanted to cry out that what was being done to her had nothing to do with witchcraft but greed—the greed of men already rich. But as she looked at the fascinated/scared expressions of the dirty, diseased people, she knew she could not reason with them. She was not going to do away with centuries of ignorance in a few minutes.
When the cart ride was over she was dragged to the ruins of an old stone castle, one tower standing, and pushed up the stairs. Many hours later she was given a small bowl of water and Alyx washed the stench from her body as best she could.
They kept her there for days, guards on the floor below and more on the roof. At night the townspeople gathered to circle the tower and chant exorcisms to guard themselves against her evil. Alyx merely sat in the center of the cold little room and tried to listen to the music that ran through her head. She knew the judges delayed her execution to give Raine time to arrive to rescue her. She prayed with all her might for his safety, pleaded with God to let him realize he was walking into a trap. The judges and Pagnell had been so right when they said that Raine could not go for his own knights. In fact, Pagnell had taken his own men north to Raine’s home to guard that Raine did not ride there first.
Alyx sat and thought over the men in Raine’s camp, what poor soldiers they were, how lazily they trained—and how much they hated her. “Please,” she prayed, “do not let Raine come alone. If he comes, let him have a guard and let the men protect him.”
Before daylight on the ninth day, a fat, stinking old woman came bearing a plain white linen sheath for Alyx to wear. Without a protest, calmly, Alyx slipped it on, leaving it loose over her stomach. At the proceedings she’d pleaded for her child’s life, but the men had only given her a blank look, totally uninterested in her. One of the judges told Pagnell to silence her and one slap from him had made Alyx hold her tongue. There was nothing she could say to sway them anyway. They figured they had to burn her now while Raine was still hot for her and the child must also be endangered. Pagnell laughed and said he’d hold Raine and make him watch while Alyx burned.
With her chin high, using all her strength to control the shaking in her knees, Alyx descended the stairs before the old woman who carried Alyx’s dress over her arm—pay for risking being in the same room with the witch.
A priest waited at the foot of the stairs, and quickly, Alyx made her confession, denying that she was a witch or that she carried the Devil’s child. With an air of disbelief, he blessed and sent her on her way.
It must have looked strange, Alyx thought, for someone of her size to be escorted by so many large men: one in front, one in back, two on each side. The clanking of the full armor they wore was the only thing louder than the pounding of her heart as she fixed her eyes on the platform in front of her. A tall stake reached skyward and all around it was a pile of brush and dried grasses.
The crowd was joyous as they watched her approach, jubilant at the special treat that awaited them. Not many witches were burned nowadays.
As Alyx climbed the stairs, the guards kept her circled, their backs to her as their eyes scanned the horizon. Involuntarily, Alyx also looked at the landscape. Hope and fear mixed together within her. She feared for Raine’s life should he try to save her, yet she hoped she would not have to die.
A guard grabbed her arm, pulled her to the stake and tightly tied her wrists behind her.
Alyx lifted her eyes skyward, fully aware that this would be the last time she’d see the day. The early morning sunlight was just lightening the day and she looked across the high brush and into the crowd. It was bad, very bad, that these were the last faces she’d ever see, that she’d go to Heaven—or Hell—with these faces on her mind.
Closing her eyes, she tried to picture Raine.
“Get on with it,” came a voice that made Alyx open her eyes. Voices were life to her; she’d more likely remember a voice than a face or a name. Scanning the crowd, she saw no one she knew. They all seemed to be an especially dirty, scarred lot.
“Let me light the fire,” came the voice again, and this time Alyx looked into Rosamund’s eyes. A chill went all over her skin, her scalp tightening and a tiny flame of hope surged through her.
The guards, all around her, were taking their time in lighting the fire as they studied the country around them, looking for some sign of a knight and his men.
Not sure whether to trust her eyes, she looked at the crowd again.
“What’re ye waitin’ for?” came a voice Alyx kne
w as well as her own. There, in the forefront, with blackened teeth and a dirty, bloody bandage over one eye was Jocelin. Beside him stood a man Alyx recognized from the forest camp, one of the men who’d accused her of stealing. They were changed, some looking dirtier than she remembered, but the whole forest camp was there, gazing up at her with half-smiles of conspiracy as they saw she recognized them.
In spite of all she could do, tears began coursing down her cheeks, but through her blurred vision she could see that Joss was trying to say something to her. It took a long moment to understand what he was mouthing.
“This fire should make the witch sing loudly,” he said, and Alyx recognized exasperation in his voice.
Surreptitiously, she glanced at the guards as they frowned at the bare distance, never even glancing at the crowd at the foot of the platform.
“We’ve waited long enough,” said one of the black-robed judges from behind Alyx. “Let the witch burn.”
One of the guards lowered a flaming torch toward the bracken and as he did so, Alyx filled her lungs to capacity with air. Desperation, fear, hope, joy, all combined in her voice and the note she emitted was so strong, so loud, that for a moment everyone was paralyzed.
Jocelin was the first to move. With a cry much like Alyx’s, he leaped to the top of the platform and behind him came twenty men and women. One confessed murderer threw his weight onto the guard holding the torch, sending the flames backward, to land in the pile of branches behind Alyx, where they went up instantly.
There were six guards and four judges on the platform. The judges ran away at the first sign of trouble, their robes raised to their knees, flying out behind them.
Smoke curled around Alyx’s body as she watched the men and women fight the steel-clad knights. With each blow that hit flesh she felt it in her own. These people she had treated so badly were risking their lives to save her.
The smoke grew thicker, making her cough and her eyes water. Heat, like the hottest sun, hurt the back of her. Trying to see, she looked at the people around her, fully aware how fragile they were compared to the knights in their heavy armor. Her only consolation was that Raine had been sensible enough not to risk his life in this fight. At least he’d stayed away somewhere safe.
It was some time before she became aware that one of the knights was not being attacked by the forest people. It was only when she heard his roar, hollow from inside the helmet, that she realized that one of her guards was Raine.
“Jocelin! Cut her loose!” Raine commanded as he brought a double-edged ax down on the shoulder of an armored knight, sending the man to his knees. A woman jumped on the fallen knight, pulled his helmet off, while a one-eyed man slammed a club into the head of the dazed knight.
The smoke was so thick Alyx could see no more and her throat was raw from coughing. More tears flowed as Joss cut the ropes about her wrists, grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the burning brush.
“Come with me,” he said, pulling her by the hand.
She’d halted, looking back at the platform. Raine fought two men at once, swinging mightily at them with a steel-studded mace, sidestepping, moving with slow grace in the heavy armor. Behind blazed the fire, flashing off the men’s armor, turning it to a frightening, bloody red.
“Alyx!” Jocelin shouted at her. “Raine gave me orders of where to take you. He’s angry enough at both of us. For once, obey him.”
“I can’t leave him!” she tried to say, but her raw throat and the lump there made it come out as a croak.
One strong pull from Joss and they were running together. After a very long time she saw horses coming toward them.
“He’s late,” Joss yelled, panting from the run. “Come on, Alyx!”
At least the running kept her mind from the danger Raine was in. Carrying the extra weight of her unborn child made her awkward, and she needed every bit of her wind.
When they reached the horses, Jocelin mounted and pulled her up behind him and, to her chagrin, they headed away from where Raine and the others fought. Alyx tried to protest, but again her voice failed her. Her silence was so uncharacteristic that Joss turned to look at her, and his snort of laughter showed he understood her predicament.
They rode hard for two hours and when they stopped at last, it was at a monastery. Alyx, exhausted from her fear during the last several days, could hardly stand when Joss helped her down.
“Is your voice really gone?” Joss asked, half amused, half in sympathy.
She again tried to speak, but only a rasp that hurt her throat came out.
“Maybe it’s better this way. Raine is angry enough to tear the tongues out of both of us. Are you all right, though? They didn’t harm you while you were a captive?”
Alyx shook her head.
Before Joss could speak again, a tonsured, brownrobed monk opened the heavy wooden door.
“Won’t you come in, my children? We are ready for you.”
Alyx touched Jocelin’s arm and frowned in question. What did the monk mean by “ready”?
“Come inside. You’ll find out,” Joss said, smiling.
Inside the wall was a large, lovely courtyard, green and shady in the early morning August sunlight. There were doors off three sides of the courtyard, a thick stone wall behind them.
“We have a few rooms for women visitors,” the monk said, glancing down at Alyx’s soot-covered coarse white gown. “Lord Raine has made arrangements for your comfort.”
Moments later Alyx was in a spacious room off the courtyard and given a mug of thick buttermilk to drink. She was only halfway through it when the sound of clanging steel came through the door.
“Alyxandria!” came a bellow that could only be Raine’s.
Out of habit, Alyx opened her mouth to answer him in kind, but only a painful yelp came out. With her hand at her throat, she opened the door.
Raine whirled to look at her and for a moment their eyes locked. There were shadows under his eyes and his hair was sweat-plastered to his head in black curls. Dents in his armor were numerous. But what was frightening was the fury in his eyes.
“Come out here,” he growled, and his tone left no room for disobedience.
When she stood before him he clutched her shoulders, stared for a moment at her stomach, then looked back into her eyes. “I should beat you soundly for this,” he said.
Alyx tried to speak, but the rawness of her throat made tears in her eyes.
He looked puzzled for a moment, then one dimple flashed in his cheek. “The smoke take your voice away?”
She nodded.
“Good! That’s the best news I’ve heard in months. When we get through with this I have a few things to say to you and for once you’re going to listen.” With that he grabbed her shoulder and pushed her toward a small gate in the wall. Outside was a tall, deeply recessed door that obviously belonged to a chapel. Not waiting for her to enter on her own, Raine opened the door and pushed her inside. Before the altar stood Jocelin and a tall, slim man whom Alyx had never seen before.
“In your armor?” the stranger asked, looking at Alyx curiously.
“If I took time to change no doubt she’d slip through my fingers again. You have the ring, Gavin?”
Alyx’s eyes opened wide at the name. So this was Raine’s older brother, the man she’d written to and begged to help control Raine’s anger at Roger Chatworth. As she looked up at Gavin, thinking he wasn’t at all like Raine physically and Raine was so much more handsome, she was barely aware of a priest before them, talking.
“Pay attention, Alyx,” Raine commanded, and Gavin coughed to cover a laugh.
In consternation, Alyx looked at the men surrounding her. Jocelin’s eyes danced with laughter, Raine’s smouldered with barely controlled rage and Gavin seemed to be amusedly tolerant of everything. The priest was waiting patiently for something from her.
“Alyx!” Raine growled. “I know you can’t speak, but you could at least nod your head—unless of course you’d rather n
ot marry me. Perhaps you’d rather have Jocelin . . . again?”
“Marry?” she mouthed.
“For the Lord’s sake, Raine! Sorry, Father,” Gavin said. “Have pity on her. She’s had a shock. One minute she’s about to be burned at the stake and the next she’s getting married. She needs a moment to adjust.”
“And since when have you known so much about women?” Raine asked hostilely. “You dumped Judith on your doorstep hardly minutes after you married her, and if I hadn’t broken my leg, she’d have been alone.”
“If you hadn’t been there she might have come to me sooner. As it was—”
“Quiet!” Jocelin shouted, then stepped backward when the two Montgomery brothers turned their wrath on him. He took a deep breath. “Alyx was looking at Lord Gavin and I’m not sure she realized she was marrying Lord Raine. Perhaps if it were explained to her, she’d answer the questions properly, even without her voice.”
The full realization of what was going on hit Alyx and, with her usual ladylike finesse, her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open.
“Is that horror at the idea?” Gavin laughed.
Raine looked away from Alyx, obviously not sure what her expression meant. “She carries my child. She will marry me,” he said flatly.
Alyx couldn’t speak, but she could hiss at him through her teeth, and when Raine still wouldn’t look at her she looked about for other means of getting his attention. He didn’t ask her to marry him, didn’t allow her the sweet pleasure of throwing herself at him and telling him she loved him, but instead stood sullen and angry and announced she would marry him.
“Would you like to borrow my sword?” Gavin asked, and his voice was so full of laughter he could hardly speak. “Oh, Raine.” He slapped his brother’s shoulder, making the armor clank, but Raine didn’t move. “I hope she leads you a merry chase. Judith’s going to like a sister-in-law who looks daggers at her husband. It’ll make her feel less alone in the world.”
Raine didn’t bother to look at Gavin and Alyx sensed there was some old argument involved. Never in her life had she wished more for the power of her voice than she did at this moment. She’d make Raine look at her if she could speak.