CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
‡
The Hunted
“You know he’s in love with her.”
It was a statement, not a question, coming from Luc de Lara. He was standing with Wellesbourne, de Reyne, de Moray, and St. Hèver in front of the tavern where the knights had spent several hours eating, drinking, and having a rare and relaxed conversation. They were currently waiting for the rest of the men – de Wolfe, de Russe, du Reims, de Winter, and Jathan to finish relieving themselves back behind the tavern in a communal toilet. They’d all had a few visits to it during the course of the night but now that they were leaving, there were those who needed to make one final visit.
Those who didn’t were standing in the dark street and it was de Lara’s quiet statement that hung in the air between them now. The mood had gone from warm and satisfied to uncomfortable all in a split second.
“Who?” Wellesbourne said. “De Russe? That much is obvious. I have not seen him pay so much attention to a woman since Abbeville, at least two years ago. Do you remember? The potter’s daughter.”
De Reyne snorted. “His father would never permit it,” he said. “The Count of Roeselare would never stand for his son to marry such a low-born woman.”
De Lara nodded. “He puts a great deal of pressure on Aramis to marry well. No wonder the man tries to stay away from women; his father has all but turned him off of them. But the Earl of Mercia’s sister is another matter altogether.”
“He will never have her,” de Moray, the grumpy old man of the group, spoke softly. When the others looked at him, curiously, he simply shook his head. “She will marry another.”
“Who?” de Reyne wanted to know.
De Moray looked at the collection of men, his brow furrowed. “Have you not seen the way Gate behaves with her? It is not only de Russe who is in love with her, but de Wolfe. I have seen lesser women tear apart strong men so I would be lying if I said this does not concern me.”
De Reyne cast a long glance at St. Hèver, who simply shook his head. “Gaetan is not in love with her,” Kye said quietly. “Interested, I would believe, but the man is not in love with her. I do not believe he knows how.”
“Gate has Adéle warming his bed,” de Reyne put in. “She has already given him two sons. He has no need for anyone else, least of all a Saxon woman.”
St. Hèver nodded in agreement. “If anything, he will take her as a concubine.”
“Until he tires of her,” de Reyne said knowingly.
“Exactly.”
Those two seemed to agree but the others did not. De Lara put up his hands in a supplicating gesture.
“Are you two so blind that you do not see it?” he asked. “Watch how he behaves around her and then you will understand what I mean. De Russe may be in love with the woman but I can promise you that Gaetan is as well. Did you not see how he held her hand when that fossil of an apothecary was carving into her leg? That, good knights, is a man who feels something. Mark my words.”
“Why did you let me drink so much?”
The question came from around the side of the tavern as de Winter suddenly appeared, groaning, followed by Aramis, Gaetan, and the others. The group at the front of the tavern instantly quieted their gossip as the others came to join them. Now, Denis de Winter was evidently miserable and was blaming everyone but himself, so the subject shifted from talk of Gaetan and Aramis to de Winter’s spinning head.
“I can feel the world rock when I close my eyes, which means tomorrow my head will be swollen,” Denis said. “Someone should have stopped me.”
Téo, walking beside him and grinning, slapped the man on the back. “Your head is already swollen and misshapen no matter what you do,” he said. “You have the biggest head I have ever seen.”
De Winter put both hands on his head, outraged. “I do not.”
“It’s the size of a full moon, Denis. I am surprised you can get it into your helm.”
De Winter scowled at him. “Then my head must reflect the size of my manhood,” he sneered. “I can hardly get it into my trousers.”
“That’s not what she said.”
Soft laughter erupted from the group but Denis didn’t like that fact that he was evidently being insulted on his most important body parts. “Who is she? I demand to know.”
Téo simply laughed at him, shaking his head at a drunken de Winter who had a big head and an even bigger manroot. He looked at Gaetan, who was smirking at de Winter as the man looked down into his trousers to make sure he was as well-endowed as he thought he was.
“God’s Bones,” Gaetan muttered, yawning because of the late hour. “The conversations we have among us are most enlightening. Denis, stop looking at yourself. There is something inherently vulgar about that.”
De Winter shrugged but he stopped looking. Then he turned his back on Téo, farted loudly, and walked away. Téo, under a gas assault, waved his hands to chase off the stench and moved well away. In fact, all of the knights shifted, shoving de Winter back into the area of his own smell. Gaetan rubbed at his forehead, knowing they were all weary and somewhat inebriated, and that sleep was in order before all of the farting and insults grew out of hand.
“I am going back to the apothecary’s hut,” he told them. “I will take Téo and Jathan with me. The rest of you can either sleep in the tavern or in the livery, but return to the apothecary at dawn.”
The men nodded to the orders. “But what if Lady Ghislaine is not well enough to travel?” de Moray asked. “What then?”
That was the question all of them were asking. Gaetan folded his enormous arms in front of his chest in a pensive gesture.
“I suppose we shall decide that tomorrow,” he said. “If the fever is broken, then we shall continue with her. But if it is not, then I suppose she will have to remain. We are close enough to Alary of Mercia’s lair that we more than likely do not need her any longer. The lady and I were speculating earlier today that if Alary is still traveling as slowly as he was when we departed Westerham, then he is a few days behind us, if not more. There will be plenty of time to intercept him and reclaim Kristoph. I am sure the lady would like to be there when we do.”
“She is only our guide, Gate,” Wellesbourne said, which caused everyone to look at him in various stages of disapproval. He grew defensive. “All I am saying is that she has served her purpose. The lady was gravely injured because of us so, mayhap, it is time to relieve her of this burden. I have been in this land enough to be able to find Tenebris, so we do not need her any longer. Moreover, when we meet up with her brother, there is going to be a fight and it does not seem fair to drag her into our battle when she is already injured.”
Gaetan remained even tempered as the others frowned at Bartholomew. “She saved Kristoph from death the day he was captured,” he reminded the man. “We have gotten this far because of her. She has served a valuable purpose and I would no more cast her aside than I would cast one of you aside. Unless anyone has any objections, she will continue to be a part of our contingent while we are on this mission.”
No one seemed to have any objections and Wellesbourne remained silent, fearful that saying any more would only antagonize the group that was clearly sympathetic towards the lady. But Gaetan’s words only seemed to underscore what de Lara had said earlier, about Gaetan being in love with the woman. The Gaetan he knew would have never spared such concerned for a woman. Now, the knights were starting to see it, or at least some of them were.
Gaetan wasn’t aware of their thoughts, of course, but he was eager to get back to the apothecary because he’d been gone longer than he’d anticipated. It had been cathartic to sit with his men over hot food and enjoy good conversation. Even so, his thoughts were never far from Ghislaine. He’d relived that stolen kiss a few times, wondering what it would be like when she actually returned his kisses. The thought had made him smile.
Now, he glanced up in the sky, seeing that the stars had changed because of the late hour. The moon was sitting low on the horizon as clouds drifted across the heavens.
“If no one has anything more to say, then seek your beds, all of you,” he said. “I will see you on the morrow.”
As he turned in the direction of the apothecary’s hut with Téo beside him, Aramis stepped forward. “I would like to go with you to see if the lady’s condition has changed,” he said politely.
Gaetan’s gaze lingered on him a moment. Even though there was an understanding between them about Ghislaine, he didn’t want Aramis hanging around her. He wanted that right reserved for himself. But he couldn’t deny the man because everyone would wonder why he had, so he simply waved him on. As he started to walk, he realized that the entire group was following him, even Wellesbourne, because they all wanted to see how the lady was faring.
Realizing this would now be a group effort, Gaetan simply led the way. In truth, he was pleased that his battle-hardened men were showing their compassion and concern. They’d been through so much death and destruction together that sometimes he wondered if they still had that capacity. He’d often wondered if he still did, but the past several days had shown him that they all did, still. Beneath the warrior facades, there was still something decent beneath although, when in action upon the field of battle, it was difficult to see otherwise.
The apothecary’s hut was an odd-shaped structure that was attached to more structures that belonged to the avenue behind him, which was a street of bakers and grain brokers. In fact, Gaetan had almost missed the apothecary’s door the first time because it was lodged in a half-moon-shaped annex that attached to his hut, all of it set back from the street. This time, he knew exactly where he was going and, putting a finger to his lips to silence the conversation behind him, he opened the door and ducked inside.
That earthy, musty smell was the first thing Gaetan was aware of as he came through the door. It was so dark that he literally couldn’t see anything and he stumbled in the general direction of the bed where he’d left Ghislaine.
Behind him, he could hear his men bumping around and he shushed them, irritated that there wasn’t so much as a taper lit in the room. As he put his hand out, knowing the bed was somewhere nearby, someone struck a flint and stone behind him. A soft yellow glow flickered in the room and he turned to see the apothecary light the taper by his head.
“Apologies, my lord,” the old man said. “I fell asleep and did not realize the candle had gone out as well.”
He was lifting the taper as he spoke but when his gaze fell on the bed, he suddenly came to a halt. Seeing the old man’s puzzled expression, Gaetan whirled around to see what had the old man stumped and he, too, saw the empty bed. So did the other knights. After a moment’s shock to digest the unexpected sight, everyone was suddenly dropping to their knees, looking on the floor, searching for the lady who had evidently fallen from the bed. That included Gaetan; he lifted the bed up to get a look underneath.
But it only took a few moments to realize that Ghislaine wasn’t on the floor. She hadn’t fallen off and rolled under one of the cluttered tables, nor was she rolled up in a corner. She wasn’t anywhere to be found. Now, the realization set in that she was not in the hut at all. She was gone.
Gaetan turned accusing eyes to the apothecary.
“Where is she?” he boomed.
The old man wasn’t easily rattled, but he was showing some concern. “I was here the entire time, though asleep,” he admitted. “But she could not have left. I could not have been asleep for that long.”
Gaetan threw the bed to the ground, breaking off two of the legs. “You were asleep long enough that someone came in and took her,” he snarled. In a rage, he reached out and grabbed the old man. “You said you would watch over her!”
The old man was fragile and in danger of being crushed. “Kill me and I cannot help you!” he cried with more emotion than they had seen from him since the beginning. “Let me go!”
De Lara, nearest Gaetan, reached out to ease the man’s hands off the old man’s bird-like arms. When the old man stumbled back, finally freed, he picked up a stick that was laying on the table next to him and backed away, holding up the stick in front of him defensively as de Lara, and then Téo, pulled Gaetan back so he wouldn’t kill the old man.
There was horrible tension in the air with the realization that Ghislaine had disappeared. Apprehension fed rage. Sensing this, the apothecary knew he had to explain himself or risk being torn apart by nine angry-looking men.
It would be a terrible death.
“I would have heard if someone had entered,” the old man said, shaken. “The lady would have made noise, at least. And that big ugly dog you left would have barked. No one took her!”
That big ugly dog you left would have barked. That sentence stopped Gaetan’s rage, at least for the moment. “The dog,” he said, looking around frantically. “Did anyone see Cam?”
The knights were all shaking their heads, tensed up and waiting for the next command. But de Russe was already moving for the door.
“We cannot stand around and discuss this,” Aramis said, his voice edgy. “If no one took her out of here, then she must have left under her own power and the dog went with her. The old man is right; Cam would have barked had there been a struggle and I’m sure the old man would have awoken as well. With that leg, she could not have gone far. We must find her.”
That made as much sense as anything else and Gaetan was struggling not to panic. He’d never been so rattled in his entire life. “How could she walk out with her leg as injured as it was?” he wanted to know. “Walking would have been impossible.”
De Russe, near the door, looked at him. “You have said yourself she is a determined brave woman,” he said. “It must not have been impossible, for she is clearly gone.”
She was, indeed, and they had to find her. There was no more time for speculation. Gaetan moved away from the old man, following de Russe out of the door as the rest of the knights followed. The last person out was Jathan, who felt rather badly for the terrified old man. He’d nearly been torn apart limb from limb for falling asleep. As the others ran out, he paused.
“Be calm, my friend,” he said quietly. “Those men are the Anges de Guerre. They are fearsome, but they are not reckless. You have saved their Saxon guide and although they are fearful for her safety, they will respect you because you helped her. It is their fear for her safety that causes them to behave so. If she returns, keep her here.”
The old man still kept the stick up between him and the rather round knight who looked more like a priest in the brown robes he wore. He couldn’t even find comfort in the words. All he knew was that a very big man had just tried to kill him, so he kept the stick up in front of him even as the man in the brown robes quit the hut.
After they were gone, Mannig threw the wooden bar across the door and locked it.
But no one heard the bar being set; they were focused on finding Ghislaine. As Gaetan, Téo, de Reyne, de Moray, and Wellesbourne began milling around the apothecary’s hut and branching outward, searching the buildings surrounding the hut and every little crevice they could find, de Russe, de Winter, and St. Hèver went running towards the livery to collect their horses and search on horseback. They could cover more ground that way.
There was a huge sense of urgency among them, each man concerned for the safety of their little guide. Up by The Kings Head, where they’d recently eaten, there were fatted torches outside of the establishment, shoved into iron sconces and smoking heavily, but it was the only bit of light on the street so de Reyne and de Lara went to steal them. With the moon low in the sky, the city was in near darkness and they very much needed the light.
Now, with something to light their way, the knights went about calling Ghislaine’s name in the darkness, trying doors and, if unlocked, sticking their heads inside to see what was beyond. They startled more than one person that way. As de Russe and the others disappeared into the livery across from the cathedral, de Lara followed behind them with his torch. He was just crossing the road when he suddenly came to a halt.
Something in the muddy road had his attention.
There were footprints, but they weren’t normal footprints – the left one was normal but the right one looked like only half a foot, as if whoever they belonged to was favoring the right leg. It looked very odd. Better still, there were dog tracks beside it. Peering closely, Luc could see that the footsteps led all the way down the avenue that ran next to the church. It was a clue as far as he was concerned so he put his fingers in his mouth and emitted a piercing whistle that had the knights in the stable emerging.
He pointed to the ground.
“Here!” he shouted. “I think I have found her trail!”
That had de Russe, de Winter, and St. Hèver running from the stable, clustering around de Lara and looking at what he was pointing out. St. Hèver crouched down, touching the foot imprints and looking at the paw prints that ran alongside.
“This must be her,” he said. “It is a small imprint, a woman’s imprint, and I would know those dog prints anywhere. Denis, run and find Gaetan. He will want to know.”
De Winter ran off into the darkness, following the sounds of men calling for Ghislaine in the distance. But Aramis snatched the torch from de Lara and began to follow the footprints. When Luc and Kye went to follow him, he waved the men off.
“Nay,” he said. “Remain here and wait for Gaetan. I am going to see where these lead.”
Luc and Kye simply nodded, watching de Russe as the man practically ran alongside the footprints before taking a sharp right turn to follow them back behind the cathedral. At that point, he disappeared from their sight, but they knew why he was running. Better to make it to the lady before Gaetan did. All of that talk about both de Wolfe and de Russe being in love with the same woman was starting to play true, but both de Lara and St. Hèver simply looked at each other knowingly and shook their heads; if de Russe wanted to risk Gaetan’s wrath, then that was his business.
They weren’t going to get involved.
In truth, they were absolutely right – Aramis wasn’t going to wait for Gaetan. He wanted to find the lady himself because he was as concerned for her as Gaetan was, if not more so. He’d graciously agreed to stand aside because of Gaetan’s interest in the woman but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to show Ghislaine how much he cared about her. He would be the first to find her, the first to show her that he was the one, out of all of them, who was the most concerned. He was obsessed with locating her as he followed the imprints along the west side of the cathedral until they suddenly disappeared into a cluster of foliage next to the river.
That was where they ended. Now, he was stumped, trying to find her foot impressions in the mud beneath the canopy of trees but it was impossible. Even with the torch in his hand, there simply wasn’t enough light. Therefore, he came to an unhappy halt, unwilling to enter the cluster of bushes any further because he didn’t want to step on any of her imprints that might be there. Daylight would make them more visible and he didn’t want to tramp on anything.
For the moment, his search seemed to come to an end but a flicker of flame caught his attention. Isolated the source, he could see two men on the bridge several yards away, huddled around a fire to stave off the night and an idea occurred to him. Quickly, he climbed the slope to the road above where it connected to the bridge. Approaching the men on guard, he held out his hands to show that he had no weapons.
“Gentle men,” he said evenly. “I am searching for an injured woman. Have you seen a limping woman pass this way?”
He had startled the men, evidenced by the fact that one of them jumped up so fast that his three-legged stool toppled over. They didn’t have swords but they had clubs, and they grabbed at their weapons as the enormous Norman knight approached. Frightened and suspicious, they wielded the clubs, ready to strike.
“Woman?” one of them spouted off. “There’s been no woman tonight!”
Aramis came to a halt. “I believe you,” he said. “But I am tracking her footprints and they lead off over there near the river. She may be under the bridge. Do you mind if I look?”
The pair didn’t move, looking at him very apprehensively. “Where did you come from?” the second man demanded. “Who are you?”
Aramis knew they’d picked up on his accent. “I mean you no harm. As I said, I am looking for a woman who is injured. It is possible she is even under the bridge, hiding.”
As he said it, a group of men came charging up behind him, running along the path between the river and the cathedral. The thunder of their feet was enough to terrify the bridge guards completely, who suddenly began banging on a bell that was perched on the end of the bridge. It was obviously some kind of warning system because all around them, lights began flickering on in the homes. The toll of the bell carried and Worcester was coming alive.
That was not what Aramis had wanted to see. Quickly, he whirled around to the knights who were running up behind him, including Gaetan, and threw up his hands.
“Stop!” he roared. “You have just alerted the entire town!”
Winded, Gaetan came to a halt, looking around to see that, indeed, lights were appearing in windows and voices of alarm could be heard. The bridge guards were still banging on the bell and he could see, very quickly, that the situation was deteriorating rapidly. He grabbed Aramis by the arm.
“Did you find her?” he demanded.
Aramis shook his head, running back to the spot where the foot imprints had disappeared into the bushes near the river. He was pointing at the mud but no one could really see what he was talking about; the torches were burning out and the moon had sunk over the horizon. It was far too dark to see anything.
“The imprints disappeared here,” he pointed out. “Either she went into the river or she hid beneath the bridge, but you startled those fool guards before they would allow me to see.”
Gaetan and Wellesbourne made their way into the foliage, ripping it apart as they came to the river’s edge but it was simply too dark to see very much. People were now starting to come out of their homes with weapons, with shouts of alarm going up. Gaetan knew they had to get out of there or risk fighting off the entire town.
“Damnation,” he hissed. “We must get out of here. We cannot do battle against everyone in the village.”
Jathan, standing aback behind the knights who were hunting around in the foliage, looked about fearfully at the townspeople, up in arms. “We can seek sanctuary in the cathedral,” he told them. “We can explain to the priests that we are looking for a lost woman!”
Not seeing a figure in the water, or even near it, Gaetan made his way out of the bushes as the others looked about as well. “How long would it be before the priests, loyal to the Saxons and not the Normans, opened the doors to the cathedral and let the mob take us away?” he asked, eyeing the people now coming out onto the road by the bridge. “Nay, we must leave now. We will cross the bridge to the other side of the river and….”
A shout cut him off. “Gate!” It was Wellesbourne. “On the bridge! Look!”
Everyone strained to see what he was pointing to and, beneath the starry sky, they could see the outline of a big shaggy dog at the opposite end of the bridge.
God’s Bones, Gaetan knew that shape. He knew that dog.
Camulos!
“Cam!” he hissed. He began grabbing men, pulling them from the foliage even as he was running himself. “Come on! We must get across the bridge! She is on the other side!”
There wasn’t one knight among them who had ever moved faster in his life. In short order, they were plowing through the crowds on the bridge, riding as fast as they could for the dog, who turned and ran up the road, through the dark fields and black forests beyond.
They followed.
Ghislaine wasn’t sure how long she had been walking, only that it seemed like endless hours in an endless night. The sky above changed with the hour and she’d lost her bearings some time ago, but she refused to turn back. She refused to go back to that town where Gaetan had left her.
So she continued to walk in the dark, limping heavily on her bad leg. She was confident that once daylight came, she’d be able to discover where she was and go from there. Tenebris wasn’t far from Worcester and, knowing that’s where Gaetan and his men had gone, she was certain she could catch up to them.
Those were her thoughts, anyway.
But the reality was that she was still running something of a fever and her body was near to the point of collapse because of her injury. She was weak and the more she walked, the more muddled her mind became. It was oh-so-dark now that the moon had set, making it difficult to go any further. The sky blended with the land and Ghislaine’s rational self, the one that was being suppressed by the illness taking over her mind, knew that it was time to stop. She simply couldn’t go any further.
Stumbling off the road, Ghislaine pulled the coat she was wearing up around her head, protectively, and wandered into a forest that stretched as far as the eye could see. There was protection here from the road and from the elements, for the most part. Around her were the sounds of the night, of nocturnal creatures looking for food, but she wandered and wandered until something tripped her and she fell forward, into a flooring of leaves that had fallen from the canopy as winter approached. It was rather soft, if not very cold, but Ghislaine wasn’t one to be choosy. With the skirt of her cote wrapped up around her head for warmth and protection, she toppled over into the leaves, exhausted, wounded, and muddled.
Sleep claimed her immediately.