Chapter Three
On the second day of Yuletide my love gave to me,
a home, a blanket and a fireside to warm me...
On the long road to Hellborne, Lesslyn had time to live within her thoughts—and fears. Dressed in one of Elspeth’s kirtles—a pale blue, with a matching wool mantel trimmed with grey wolf fur—never had she worn anything so fine. She felt like a fairy princess. Mayhap that lent her flights of fancy, filling the hours of riding through the snow-covered countryside. To pass the time, she conjured twenty different meetings between the earl and her. Some brought a secret smile to her lips. Others sent a pitter of dread to her heart, fearing he would spot her for the liar she was with only a stare from his eyes—the color of fog.
The worry was almost enough to make her turn the chestnut horse around and flee back to Sancerre. One time she even glanced back, her mind torn. But then, she recalled Elspeth was already with Aristide di Conti. She would have to return to Sancerre with tides of Elspeth bolting from the arranged marriage, and soon to flee the country. Regardless of their differences over the years, she could not do that to her. After seeing Aristide and hearing his assurances to cherish and protect her sister, she had to admit the two did seem in love and suited. The young man impressed her by insisting that half of his guard ride on to Hellborne to assure Lesslyn arrived safely.
Knowing this was the day that the earl should meet up with their party, she had chosen the lovely blue gown, hoping to look her best. She feared the effort was ruined by her chattering teeth. The morn had held a hint of warmth on the rising breeze and a promise of a beautiful day. But then the wind shifted, the sky turned dark and snow began to fall. And fall. Had she anticipated the sudden storm, she would have dressed in more serviceable clothing. It was hard to stay warm when one was covered in thick, wet snow.
Lesslyn turned in the saddle to glance back at the cart carrying poor Ena. The wain hit a dip in the roadway and the cart bounced from side-to-side, causing the woman to fall upon her hands and knees in straw strewn on the cart floor. The hood of her heavy brown mantle—one of Lesslyn’s—fell over her forehead and face. Awkwardly, she tried to push it back, but lost her balance and fell forward. The hood dropped down again. Finally, shoving it off her head, Ena look to the sky as if asking what she had done to deserve such a punishment.
Over the years, Ena had been her only friend. Sadness had touched Lesslyn when she considered that she would have to leave Ena behind. Then, Elspeth had felt it necessary to send Lesslyn off with a personal maidservant, saying it would be expected of the daughter of a baron. When her sister brought up the lacking detail, Lesslyn jumped at a chance of taking Ena with her.
In many ways, though her station was low-born, they had commonality. Both were orphaned at an early age, but had been taken in by less than caring family. If she were grasping at a new life, why should Ena not be given the same chance? When she proposed the change, Ena had said not a word, but went away hurriedly. She came back with a small pack of her meager belongings, and smiled. “I be ready, my lady.”
Currently, she appeared to be having second thoughts about the trip, now she had jostled around in the rickety two-wheeled cart for three days. Precisely why Lesslyn had elected to ride instead of bouncing about in the wain.
William, head of the guard, pulled his mount alongside hers. “My lady, I wonder—should we not call halt and shelter up ahead in that stand of pines? The limbs will provide a break against the snowfall and the wind. The needles will be dry and full of pine sap so we can start a fire to warm you.”
She knew William spoke the rightness of the situation. Howbeit, as tired and cold as she was, she pondered if stopping were a good idea. “I admit I am chilled. Only, wouldst not the pause delay meeting up with the earl as arranged? How far are we from Hellborne?”
William frowned. “In this weather? I cannot say for certain. The earl sent word he would meet us on this road and escort us the rest of the way. Howbeit, what if he is of the same mind and has held up and shelters against this storm? Also to consider—we have to fear brigands seeing us as exposed to attack.”
“Surely, none wouldst dare to attack a cadre bound for Hellborne?” she opined. “I assumed men feared the earl too much for such an affront.”
William’s mouth compressed before he answered. Disapproval molded his face. “In this land, I suppose three men are feared above all others: Julian Challon, Redam Maignart—and the third being the Earl of Hellborne, Greyson de Verre. How they travel through life creates enemies, my lady. Men willing to risk much—or with naught left to lose—might seek to settle a score. They mayhap could also be lured by the notion of gaining a fat purse for a ransom. These are troubled times. One cannot be too careful."
Laughter bubbled forth from Lesslyn before she could stop it. “Ransom? For me? I fear no man wouldst bother.”
William gave her a soft smile. “You fail to see your value, my lady.”
Lesslyn was surprised by his words, so much so she was unsure how to respond. Men never paid her much mind when she stood in the shadow of her golden sister. Surely, a colorful kirtle and mantle did not magically transform the brown wren?
She had no chance to give a response as screams split the air. They seemed to come from all directions at once. Her guards were turning every which way, heads whipping around, trying to locate from where the threat would come. The hushed landscape suddenly saw movement as men ran from the shelter of the trees and shrubs on both sides.
William called for more riders to move up before them. Poor Ena pulled her hood up and huddled in the corner of the wain, hoping to make herself as small a target as possible.
Snatching up the rein on her horse, William dragged the animal under low hanging boughs of the tall trees. Pulling back a limb on one, he motioned for her to ride into the space between two close pines. “Stay here. I will return for you when all is clear,” he barked, before leaving her hidden in the shadows.
The limbs dipped low from the weight of the heavy wet snow, so she had to lean forward over her horse’s neck to try and see what was happening. Shouts and cries echoed all around the road. Horses from her cadre flew by as the men, with swords drawn, clashed with horsemen now coming down the trail. Enemies on foot rushed forward, trying to drag the mounted knights from their destriers. Having only the narrow view of what was ensuing, she had no way to tell how many men were attacking them, or under whose banner they fought.
Something went flying past her head. Startled, she gasped as she turned to see an arrow lodged in the tree trunk, still vibrating. Shaken, unsure what to do, she watched as bodies were falling to the snow-covered ground. Horses reared, fighting, screaming as they lashed out with teeth and hooves. Swords clanged as they crashed together. The stomach-churning sounds of men dying in agony.
Lesslyn wanted to put her hands over her ears to blot out the too-real nightmare. Never had she been exposed to any sort of fighting before, leaving her unprepared for facing an all-out battle, the ugliness of men sliced half open by the swing of a sword, or hear the sickening sound as arrows found purchase and lodged in a chest. She hated staying hidden, yet knew she risked harm should she venture out. The palfrey was getting nervous, the scent of blood spooking it, causing the beast to shift from hoof-to-hoof. She patted its neck, trying to calm the fidgeting. Her mind remained frozen, unable to decide what she needed to do.
One man in ragged clothes, directly in front of her, yelled out to be heard above the din, “Riders coming!” He and the others afoot fled as horsemen came in from the north.
Her hands trembled, but she struggled not to convey her fear to the animal. It was getting harder to keep it calm as men shouted in fear, in agony.
A straggler, running down the roadway, jerked up short in the face of the oncoming cavalry. In panic, he looked around. He turned and came crashing through the tree limbs. Eyes wild, blood flowed from the side of his face, down his neck, and into the edge of the boiled jack. He seemed shocked to find her hiding there. He raised his sword.
“Get off the horse! Now!” he demanded, reaching out for the bridle. Stupidly, he jerked on the leather lead. “Get down, wench! The Devil hisself comes!”
Too startled to think, let alone move, she sat on the palfrey and gaped. She looked about to see if any of her guard were close to call for help. Again, he yanked on the tether. The horse started a deep throated rumble and backed up three steps. Lesslyn grabbed the high, square cantle, in effort not to lose her seat in the sidesaddle. Her right hand went to her waist, and she removed the dagger from the small sheath. Like everything else in life, it was up to her to protect herself.
The half-crazed man reached up to drag her from the horse. Lesslyn did not hesitate, but drove the knife into his lower arm. His howl blended together with her scream as he refused to let go. The mare bounced on its front hooves, and then took off. The instant the animal hit bowing limbs, he ducked down to fly under them. She could not get low enough. A thigh-sized bough caught her in the head, sending her backward and out of the saddle.
Lesslyn hit the ground hard, knocking the air from her lungs. She lay there, struggling to draw a breath and finding it impossible. Worse, the pain in her head was nearly blinding her vision. She frantically struggled to focus. Only, she could not move, no matter how fear drove her.
“You stupid bitch!” the man snarled.
She blinked and her sight began to come into focus, enough so she could see the savage warrior had his sword drawn back and was ready to kill her.
Lesslyn lay there in the snow, the sounds of battle receding to mute. The snow was falling heavily. Big fluffy flakes hit her face.
And she was going to die.
She almost laughed at the injustice of it all. To finally stop being a shadow—a brown wren—and reach out for a life with both hands, only to end up dying on the road to Hellborne.
She saw the sword start to descend, and closed her eyes.