CHAPTER THIRTEEN
‡
Dogs of War
The next five days of travel had seen Ghislaine, Gaetan, and the knights making at least twenty-five miles a day, sometimes more if the pushed the horses. They’d been making excellent time without the army to drag them down, and the war horses were hearty and well-fed. They rested every night for several hours before beginning the trek in the morning again. There was a drive behind their swift travel, something felt intently by every man – they had to make it north before Alary did to intercept him before he could make it to Tenebris.
It was the fuel that fed their fire.
Now that it was just the eleven of them, including Jathan, travel had been a different experience than it had when the army was all around them. The knights still rode in formation – men on point, men in the middle, men covering the rear, but there was more conversation. Quiet snippets of it bounced around and the travel, in general, was more relaxed but no less determined. Also of note was the fact that they rode with their shields slung over their left knees, which they hadn’t done before, and they rode in tight quarters with Ghislaine in the middle. It was a defensive formation in case they were attacked. But so far, their travel had been thankfully uneventful.
After the incident five days ago, Ghislaine was no longer riding up near Gaetan, as he remained in the front, but de Russe never left her side. He remained on her left while Wellesbourne was on her right. Even when the other men changed positions, those two remained the same. Ghislaine was coming to think that they’d been appointed her protectors or they were simply keeping an eye on her just in case she really did have something to do with tipping off her brother. She was the enemy, after all. Ghislaine kept having to remind herself of that.
But she never asked them because the men really didn’t talk to her. She was genuinely disappointed that they had taken a step or two back in their relationship. They were back to simply tolerating her again because of what happened with Gunnora and Ghislaine wasn’t sure what more she could do to change their minds. There seemed to be some debate among them as to who trusted her and who didn’t, something that left her feeling sad and uncomfortable. Now, all she could do was take comfort in the big gray dog that seemed to follow her every move.
Camulos the dog had taken a liking to her and, try as she might, she couldn’t shake the beast so she’d stopped trying. He was the only real companionship she had now. He even slept with her, a great big smelly dog who loved to cuddle, and she found herself overcoming her dislike of dogs because of it. She found it very strange that so seasoned a knight should have a dog that wasn’t a killer, but she was glad for her sake. The dog gave her camaraderie when no one else really did.
But her disappointment wasn’t only in the situation, or what had happened with Kristoph’s finger. Her most heartfelt disappointment was in the fact that Gaetan seemed removed from her now, hardly speaking to her these past few days. He would only address her if it had something to do with the road or their travel in general, but that was where it ended.
Even at the end of the day when they would stop and camp for the night, with Wellesbourne and St. Hèver building massive bonfires to keep the darkness away, Gaetan would stay clear of her as she ate with Jathan and the dog while Gaetan and his men sat around one of the big bonfires. She was so very sad that she was no longer privileged enough to sit and talk to Gaetan. She kept reflecting back to the night at Westerham when they’d included her in their drinking and revelry. It was the best night of her life.
She missed, very much, what she would no longer know.
Therefore, Ghislaine was resigned to this journey, so quiet and so lonely even though she was surrounded by men. He heart felt like a rock, heavy and weighty, cold and crumbling. Once, Gaetan had breathed a little bit of life into it but that momentary light had been fleeting. Thoughts of him and the sight of him, still made her heart flutter but it was like the death throes of a dying beast.
Quiver, quiver…
Quiver….
Like anything else that wasn’t nurtured or fed, soon enough, her heart would flutter no more.
Therefore, she distracted herself as they moved along, pretending to study the land when her mind teetered on the edge of self-pity. More and more, however, her focus on the land surrounding them was occupying her time because they were entering an area known for its strange people and dark customs. Even if Gaetan didn’t want to speak to her, it was time she speak to him because they were entering an area he needed to know something about and she didn’t want to be blamed again for withholding information.
Coming off of a slight rise with a vast valley spread out below in the distance, they were quickly approaching the shadowlands.
“Jathan,” she turned to the priest. “I must speak with Gaetan. It is important. Would you ask permission?”
The priest, who had riding next to her quietly for the past few days, nodded his head and kicked the sides of his shaggy horse, forcing the animal to move faster than it wanted to. He made his way up to Gaetan at the front and Ghislaine could see the priest speaking to Gaetan and pointing back to Ghislaine. Gaetan didn’t respond, or at least she didn’t see him respond, until several moments later when Jathan finally came back to her and invited her forward. Digging her heels into the sides of her shaggy mare, she cantered forward until she came to Gaetan.
He was riding tall and proud astride his big war beast as Ghislaine came up to ride beside him, but he didn’t look at her. He kept his eyes on the road ahead.
“What is so important that you must speak with me?” he asked.
His voice sounded so unkind. Ghislaine’s heart sank and she sighed heavily, unsure how much of his coldness she could take. Her disappointment and sadness in his treatment of her was starting to turn into something else.
Resentment wasn’t far off.
“I thought you should know that we are entering the realm of the shadowlands,” she said, her manner as unfriendly as his was. “The people who live here are secretive and dark, and have been known to eat their enemies. Although there are a few abbeys here, the church has not been able to change their ways. In fact, several years ago, we heard that they ate the priests who had tried to convert them to Christ. An old name for them is the Cilternsaetan, but before that, it was something worse. They were known as caro comdenti.”
Gaetan turned to look at her, translating the Latin. “Flesh eater?”
Ghislaine nodded, meeting his gaze briefly before looking away. “I told you there was danger on this road.”
Gaetan was looking at her even when she looked away. It was a stolen look as far as he was concerned, a moment in which he could look at that angelic face and have a reason to do so. He’d spent the past two days struggling with what he was feeling for her, trying to tell himself that she was disloyal to him, an untrustworthy enemy, but what his mind told him and what his heart yearned for were two different things.
He didn’t want to talk to her. He didn’t want to look at her. He’d kept himself well away from her, and she’d kept herself away from him as well. He was content. Not happy, but content. But now, here she was, and in looking at her he realized just how much he’d missed her. Something about this woman was growing on him, inside him, just like a parasite, and he couldn’t shake her no matter how hard he tried.
In fact, he was thinking more about missing her than the words she was speaking, so it took him a moment to shake off his daydreams to realize she was telling him something quite serious. He reined his horse to a stop and the entire group came to a halt behind him, but Gaetan motioned for the group to come near and they closed in around them. He gestured at Ghislaine.
“The lady has told me something about the people in this area,” he said. “The ancient name for them is caro comdenti. It seems that when she warned us of danger along this road, it includes a people who eat the flesh of their enemies.”
Everyone, especially Jathan, began looking around them with some concern. They were in a light collection of trees to the east while off to the northwest was an expanse of flat, open grass as far as the eye could see. In fact, the entire area was flat and a mighty river ran off to the west; he could see the glistening of the water now and again.
But the land looked empty of people and oddly empty of animals or birds. In fact, all was quite still, which was troubling. It was easy to get an uneasy feeling about it, especially now with what the lady had told Gaetan.
“Has Edwin had any run-ins with these people?” Téo asked. “We are in Mercia, after all. These are his lands.”
Ghislaine shook her head. “Edwin’s seat of Tamworth Castle is to the north in an area of more civilized people. He does not spend much time in this area if he can help it. Some say these lands are cursed.”
“But you suggested this road,” Gaetan pointed out. “If you knew this area was so terribly dangerous, why did you suggest it?”
Ghislaine looked at him. “Because it would have taken us much longer to reach the only other road that leads to the north,” she said. “You wanted to parallel Alary and that is exactly what we are doing, but it does not come easily. I warned you the day we left the army back at Westerham. Do you not recall?”
Gaetan did. He remembered saying something about the fact that they would be heavily armed, so he couldn’t blame Ghislaine for taking them down a dangerous path. She had, indeed, warned them. Rather than admit that, however, he simply brushed it aside.
“Is there a town or somewhere to stay the night?” he asked. “Dusk will be upon at some point and I am not entirely sure I wish to sleep in the open tonight if there are men waiting to harvest my flesh.”
Ghislaine pointed down the road, northward. “Evesham is not too far away and Worcester beyond that,” she said. “We could make it to Evesham but it would be after dark. There is an abbey there where we could seek shelter.”
Over near Gaetan, Wellesbourne snorted. “The abbey is a beacon in a sea of darkness,” he said as the knights turned in his direction. “Remember that I am from the Marches between Mercia and Wales. I have been about these lands before with my father and what she says is true. It is a cursed land but it is also our only option if we want to make north before Alary does. I would strongly suggest we make it to Evesham, as the lady has suggested, as quickly as we can. Legends and ghost stories abound in this land. Some say it is not only cursed, but haunted.”
Jathan crossed himself fearfully as the other knights looked at Wellesbourne with varied levels of amusement. “Since when did you become so superstitious,” St. Hèver wanted to know. “Ghosts do not exist.”
Wellesbourne looked at him, pointedly. “Have you ever seen one?”
Kye shook his head. “I have not. Show me one and I will believe. In fact, I’d rather like to see one.”
Wellesbourne shook his head, a gesture of regret. “If we do not make it out of this land, then you may become one. Gate, I suggest we get moving. There is no time to waste.”
There was some urgency to Wellesbourne’s statement, which spurred the other knights forward. The man didn’t show concern for no reason at all, which meant he must have, indeed, been wary about their surroundings. No one wanted to discount that. As the group began to move out, Camulos suddenly began barking.
The lazy sweet dog of their liege wasn’t one to bark, which immediately put everyone on edge. He was trotting up ahead of them, into an area that was fairly dense with trees. They could see the end of the tree line beyond where the road opened up again into fields, but in order to get to that open space, they had to pass through a thicket of trees that lined both sides of the road. The dog was wandering up into that sheltered area, barking at the trees.
Gaetan didn’t like that in the least. Camulos may have been a lazy, good-for-nothing dog, but he was nonetheless alert and, at times, had been an excellent warning system. Silently, he lifted a balled fist and immediately, every knight unsheathed his broadsword or at least put a hand to the hilt of their weapon. Up towards the front of their group, Denis de Winter already had l’Espada out, the metal blade gleaming in the weak light.
They were ready for a fight.
But Ghislaine was very suspicious about what was going on. The tribes around here were unorganized and rough, but they were cunning in that they used the land to their advantage. The Normans did not; heavily armed, they believed they could withstand anything because of their superior weapons and armor and tactics. They didn’t even try to hide themselves. Perhaps their superiority was true in an open battle, but in covert warfare, it might not be so effective.
Ghislaine couldn’t stand the thought of Gaetan being cut down because he fought one way while the caro comdenti fought another. He hadn’t seemed to be apt to really listen to her on this journey, instead, relying on his men or on Wellesbourne who, it seemed, hadn’t been home in almost twenty years. Times changed, as did areas and towns in that time. Gaetan and his men were entering this land like warriors on a quest when what they needed to do was be as unobtrusive as possible.
That arrogance was going to cost them if they weren’t careful.
The dog was milling around up on the road, sniffing the ground, but he’d stopped barking. He even stopped to look back at the knights behind him, men who had slowed their forward progression considerably. But Ghislaine’s warrior instincts were taking over; she had little doubt that there was someone, or something, waiting for them up in those trees. She could feel it. Men with arrows, perhaps, or axes, both of them sharp projectiles that would come sailing out at the Normans as they passed through. A glance at Gaetan and the others showed that they were ready for a fight, tensed up and prepared. They were waiting for it to come to them.
But Ghislaine couldn’t wait. Better to draw out what was lying in wait and remove the element of surprise to give the Normans targets to strike at. If there was, indeed, someone waiting in the trees, then it would take away their advantage if she was able to draw them out. And if there was no one waiting… well, she would look like a fool. But it was better than permitting Gaetan and his men to be cut down.
She had brought them along this road. Perhaps, in a sense, she needed to protect them from it.
When the dog began barking again, Ghislaine kicked her mare as hard as she could and the horse bolted, tearing up the road and into the collection of trees. She could hear someone shouting behind her, men shouting out her name, but she ignored them. She was about halfway down the shaded path when the arrows suddenly began flying from the trees and she heard men in the foliage, barking like dogs. They were howling and hooting, and an arrow zinged by her head. Gasping with fright, she lay down on the mare, putting her head next to the horse’s neck for protection. More arrows, more barking, and then sounds of a fight behind her.
And then, an arrow struck her.
A large yew arrow with a barbed iron head went straight into her right thigh, straight through it, and embedded itself in the mare’s body. Startled by the pain, the mare came to a sudden halt but Ghislaine didn’t fall off because she was pinned to the horse by the arrow. She tried to control the horse with one hand while trying to remove the arrow with the other, but she couldn’t get a good grip on the shaft. Without a weapon, she was vulnerable to the men who were now rushing her from the trees. Terrified that she was about to be captured, she tried to get the mare moving but the horse wasn’t cooperating.
Her terror was replaced by great surprise when two war horses suddenly appeared and the men who had charged her from the trees were cut down by broadswords that were singing a deadly song as they sailed through the air. The attackers were still barking and Ghislaine caught sight of them, dirty men in leather and loincloths, faces painted with mud and twigs in their hair. Some had iron-head axes and still others had bows and arrows, but even in their greater number they were no match for the Norman knights on horseback.
Still, it was a battle from the start as Gaetan and his men cut down the savage tribe that ambushed them from the trees. Soon, the road was littered with headless bodies, bloodied limbs, and carnage, but the dog-people didn’t give up. They were tenacious, but so were the knights. There were far more of the dog-people than the Normans and they seemed to come in waves, but the Norman knights handled them easily.
Meanwhile, Ghislaine and the two knights who had ridden to her aid seemed to be boxed in by a swarm of the dog-men but, in short order, the attackers fell away and someone grabbed hold of her horse’s reins, tearing off down the road to get her out of harm’s way. Ghislaine simply held on to the horse’s neck, in anguish with the arrow still through her thigh.
She watched the road pass beneath the mare’s feet, praying they would make it to safety as the ground whizzed by and rocks kicked up in her face. Time seemed to have little meaning as they ran, but jostling her leg was sheer agony and with every move the horse made, she struggled not to cry out. But soon enough, the horse came to a halt and hands were reaching out to steady her. Someone pulled her into a sitting position and when she looked around, she saw Gaetan bailing off his horse and rushing to her side along with de Moray, his bloodied sword still drawn. De Moray stood guard to make sure they weren’t attacked again as someone slid onto the back of her horse and held her steady.
“Easy, my lady.” It was Aramis behind her, bracing her right thigh against his enormous right thigh to keep it steady as Gaetan tried to get a look at what had happened. “We shall remove this quickly, have no fear. Stay still.”
Ghislaine was in pain, in distress. “I am sorry,” she gasped. “I knew there was someone in those trees, waiting for us, and I thought if I drew them out, they would lose the element of surprise.”
Gaetan looked up at her, an oddly compassionate expression on his face, something Ghislaine hadn’t seen in days. His focus moved to Aramis, sitting behind her and holding her fast, before returning to the arrow.
“It was a clever move, little mouse,” Gaetan said as he tried to get a look at the underside of her thigh where the arrow had her pinned. “It was also astonishingly brave. But had you told me your plans, I would have sent an armored man in your stead so we would not find ourselves in the position we do now.”
He was back to complimenting her and rebuking her in the same breath. “Had I told you my plans, you would have stopped me,” she said frankly. “I took you along this road, de Wolfe. It was my duty to protect you when I sensed danger. You do not know these lands; I do. I know what these people are capable of and I could not… I would not….”
She trailed off, unable to finish. Gaetan didn’t say anything after that. He had his hand on her leg, which was covered with those leather trousers she liked to wear, even beneath the cotes he had given her. In truth, he didn’t trust himself to speak because he still wasn’t over the shock of seeing her risk her life for him and his men. Never in his life had he met a woman of such bravery, but in that bravery there had been great danger. Now, she had an arrow through her thigh, anchoring her to the horse. He could see that it was embedded fairly deeply and he pushed aside any emotion he was feeling to logically address the injury.
But it was a struggle.
“It will cause you more pain if I try to pull it out and I am not entirely sure I can because of the way it is embedded in the mare,” he said, hating the fact that he was starting to feel queasy at the sight of her with an arrow in her. “I am going to break the shaft and then we will lift you off of it.”
Ghislaine was looking at him steadily, pale-faced, with beads of sweat on her upper lip, but her expression was one of faith. Total faith. Gaetan locked eyes with her and, at that moment, something changed for him. This strong noble woman had been trying to do the right thing since nearly the moment they met. Not including their brief encounter on the battlefield, she had been trying to help men she didn’t even know save their comrade. Her motives weren’t entirely altruistic; she wanted to be rid of a half-brother who had made her life miserable. But more than once, she had gone above the call of duty to help men who were, in theory, her enemy.
But not anymore.
At this moment, she had proven herself to him.
“We need more hands to help, Gate,” Aramis said, his voice tense. “I can lift her up but we must have more hands to steady both her and the leg.”
Gaetan could see his point. He turned to see de Moray standing behind them, sword in hand and legs braced, prepared for anything that might come charging out at them. Back on the road beneath the canopy of trees, he could see his men on horseback and several bodies on the ground. There was still some fighting going on but, as he watched, Jathan and Luc de Lara came shooting out of the chaos, heading in their direction.
Jathan and Luc were on them quickly but their rush caused the injured mare to dance about nervously and Ghislaine gasped in pain as Aramis tried to hold both her and the horse steady. Gaetan, too, was trying to keep the mare from moving around as Luc and Jathan rushed up to see her injury.
“I cannot remove this arrow, as it is embedded in the horse,” Gaetan explained to them, quickly. “It has her pinned. I am going to break the shaft and then we will try to lift her off of it. Luc, get on her other side and prepare to help lift her up on my command. Jathan, find something to stanch the blood flow. We will need to bind the wound.”
The priest, pale-faced with the rush of battle, went running back to his horse to collect bandages from his saddlebags as Gaetan prepared to break the shaft. He looked up at Aramis to see if the man had Ghislaine properly braced.
“Do not let her move,” he told Aramis quietly, steadily. “Hold her fast. Luc, help him steady her while I break this.”
Ghislaine had her head turned away, hearing Gaetan’s words. She had never been more terrified in her life. She was in excruciating pain as she felt hands on her left leg and thigh, holding it still, while Aramis wrapped his enormous arms around her to keep her from bolting once Gaetan jostled the arrow. They’d all had their share of wounds enough to know how painful something like this was, so once Aramis nodded briefly to Gaetan to signal he had a good grip on the lady, Gaetan went quickly to work.
Grasping the shaft of the arrow just above her thigh, he snapped the shaft in half. As Ghislaine bit off her cries of pain, he took hold of her right leg and, with Aramis shifting his grip and lifting, pulled her leg off the arrow that was still stuck into the side of the horse. Ghislaine screamed in pain as they did so, made worse by the fact that it wasn’t a clean removal; something had her leg stuck to the arrow so the first attempt at removal was only partial. Gaetan had to grasp hold of the underside of the arrow to hold it steady and had his men lift again, this time with de Moray’s help, to pull her right leg completely off of the shaft. Finally, her leg came free.
Aramis handed her down to Gaetan, who cradled her against his chest as Jathan rushed up with a wad of boiled linen and a bladder of wine that was part of their provisions. As Luc and Marc went to work removing the remainder of the arrow from the poor little mare, Aramis went to assist Gaetan and Jathan in wrapping the lady’s leg. Aramis took a close look at the wound before he let the priest put bandages on it.
“’Tis a dirty wound, Gate,” he said grimly. “I can see bits of her cote and other debris in it. It must be cleaned.”
Gaetan shook his head. “Not now,” he said. “We must get her to safety before we clean the wound. Douse it with the wine and wrap it. We must get out of here.”
Aramis knew that; they all did. He eyed Ghislaine, who was trying very hard to be brave, before taking the wine bladder and dousing the liquid onto the wound. It was the only thing they had to clean it at the moment but the sting of the alcohol had Ghislaine biting off her screams in her hand. It was horrific battlefield medicine. With great haste, Aramis and Jathan then proceeded to bind the leg tightly as the rest of the knights began trickling down the road.
“How is the lady?” Téo asked, pulling his worn horse to a nervous halt.
Aramis was binding the leg so tightly that Ghislaine was weeping softly in pain, hand over her face and her head against Gaetan’s shoulder. Gaetan turned to glance at Téo, an expression on his face that suggested he was becoming ill.
“Injured,” he said simply. “The arrow has been removed but the wound must be tended. We cannot do that here. Has the fighting stopped?”
Téo nodded. “For the most part,” he said. “St. Hèver and Wellesbourne are dispatching the wounded, but many of those fools ran off. They will return for their dead and we do not want to be here when they come back.”
“Agreed. Is anyone injured?”
“Only the lady.”
Gaetan was relieved, at least in the aspect that none of his men had been wounded. “De Moray!” he barked.
Marc appeared at his side. “Aye, Gate?”
“The mare?”
De Moray turned to look at the little animal as Luc patched up the puncture. “The mare’s wound is deep but it did not puncture anything vital,” he said. “But that was not an arrow from a tree-dweller. It had a heavy iron head on it that had barbs to embed it in whatever it struck. That is why you could not remove it easily.”
An iron arrowhead with spines in it was a dastardly piece of equipment, designed to maim. “Our tree-dwellers have had some contact with tribes who know how to make weapons to not only kill but to inflict great pain in doing it,” he said ominously. Then, he shifted Ghislaine in Marc’s direction. “Now that we know that, we will be more careful bringing an army into this land. Here, take the lady while I gather my horse. You will take charge of the mare.”
De Moray gently took Ghislaine from Gaetan, holding her in his big arms as Gaetan went for his war horse and Aramis finished binding the leg. By the time de Russe was finished with the dressing, all of the knights had joined them, all of them greatly concerned for the lady who had taken the arrow to her leg. As they jockeyed for position to see the extent of the damage, Gaetan vaulted onto his war horse and rode alongside de Moray, extending his arms for the lady. When she was carefully handed up to him, he settled her across his big thighs and gathered his reins, digging his spurs into the sides of his animal and tearing off down the road as his men followed closely.
At breakneck speed, the knights made their way to the safety of Evesham Abbey.