ON THE TRAIL
“So. You say she went out of this gate?”
“You didn't see exactly where she went, did you? Did you?”
Camden, hearing the harsh, angry voices directed at the sobbing lady, felt his blood heat.
“Stop!” he yelled. “Cannae ye see yer scaring her? Leave her be.”
Everyone – an illustrious everyone, including Lord Rufus and Lady Amabel – stared disbelievingly.
Camden cleared his throat. “Cannae ye see she's distressed? Ask gently, like.”
Lady Amabel nodded. “The knight is right. Leave her be.”
Camden let out a long sigh. “Thanks, milady.” He turned to the pale red-haired lady, who looked at him with greenish-brown eyes, pits of misery.
“Sir?”
“Easy, lass,” he sighed. “Just show me where she was before...” he trailed off. Before she was captured.
He was fairly sure he knew what had happened. How anyone had avoided witnessing it, he had no idea. It happened too fast.
The brigands must have come and gone out of the woodlands too quickly for anyone – even sentries – to notice. He let out a long, shuddering sigh. Nodded at the girl.
“Take me there.”
The lady – her name was something with a “J” letter that he couldn't recall now – nodded, swallowed and led him.
“Here,” she said, indicating a path that led out of the water gate. The ladies had been playing with hoops near the gate, she explained. Rubina had thrown, cast past the scoring-post and run out through the gate to catch the errant projectile.
“She was here,” she said.
Camden stopped and looked about. He was aware, vaguely, of a crowd of nobles behind him at the gates. He didn't look up. He was not looking to earn their favor. He was looking for her.
“Rubina?”
He let out a long, shuddering breath. It seemed he could feel her presence everywhere in the clearing. The woods started a javelin-cast from where she'd last been seen. He followed the trail a little, scouting among the trees. Nothing.
He sighed. What to look for?
Footprints. Hoof prints. Signs of concealed watchers.
It was getting dark, Camden reflected, annoyed, which made everything harder. Why hadn't he heard about this sooner? He cursed under his breath. A pox on the nobles, who'd tried to conceal her sudden disappearance. Why? To preserve her reputation? Theirs? To stop panic sweeping the place?
The last was most likely.
Feeling bitterly angry, Camden knelt in the grass.
“A torch,” he said insistently.
Someone produced one. He smelled the tarred scent of a pitch torch, heard the tearing noise a flame makes, and passed quickly through air. He held out his hand for the brand and held it aloft, scanning the clearing.
Nothing.
He sighed. What did he expect to find? Footprints? A sign?
“Sir?” a guardsman said slowly, “let me. As the head of the guardsmen, I insist that we...”
“Whist,” Camden said, making everyone gasp with affront. He sighed bitterly. Why did everyone around here seem to hold protocol in higher esteem than life? “I'll look. You lot had your go.”
The guardsman looked as if he wanted to stab Camden – his eyes slit and his face went red. Camden ignored him. If he'd been on the wall, keeping an adequate lookout when this happened, someone would have some idea where she was.
Unless...he entertained doubt. Unless it was consensual all along. Mayhap she ran off to marry someone or other? Might be so.
He chuckled to himself. Jealousy! It was ridiculous.
“Sir?” the guard said stiffly. “I think it would be advisable to...”
“Just let me look,” Camden said softly. He raised the torch again. This time, to his surprise, he saw something glinting.
He slit his eyes and walked towards it. Like a sliver of mirrored glass, silvered and cold, it lay on the bank just before the woodland met the grassland. He walked over.
Bending down, he plucked it. It was cold. A token?
It was a coin. Camden felt his heart beat fiercely. He lifted it and squinted at it hard. Someone yelled.
“What you found?”
“Whist,” Camden whispered. Whoever it was went quiet. He held the piece of currency to his eye, studying it carefully.
It was a silver coin. It had writing on it, crudely molded when the coin was minted. He focused on the design. His blood went cold. It held the image of a short-haired man, wearing a crown. On the other side, he could see a design of a cross, each quarter that it cut into the circle decorated with a design of three rounds, almost a flower.
It was an English coin.
He felt his fist tense and he wanted, very badly, to drop it. To crush the image of that proud king off the back, grinding it under his heel. However, he couldn't do that. It was evidence. It was guidance.
“What is it?” someone shouted. He looked up into the baleful dark-eyed stare of Rubina's father and namesake, Lord Rufus. The man's face was a mask of agony. He, too, had been a knight and Camden felt sympathy.
“Sir?” he walked over. The group parted to let him through. Camden passed it over.
He was close enough to see the horror in the man's eyes, though it was quickly veiled. To see his lip tremble, then tense. The fear on his face hardened to implacable anger.
They looked at each other.
“We ride,” Lord Rufus said. “The whole troop! As many as we can muster. We storm the forest and we get her back.”
Camden tensed.
“No,” he said.
Lord Rufus, already turned, whipped round.
“How dare you?” he said quietly.
Camden blinked. He was intimidated, he had to admit. Rubina's father was vast-shouldered, his bulked-out form swathed in a bearskin cloak. The air around him cracked with anger. His brown eyes were flat with loathing.
Swallowing, he stood his ground. “Milord, forgive me,” he said respectfully. “But let me go ahead. It is wiser.”
He saw his lordship glare at him. He prepared words to counter him, and then frowned.
“You are right,” he nodded. “It's safer for her.”
Camden let out a long sigh. It was far less dangerous if he went ahead alone. For a start, if the men heard an army on their heels, they'd be most likely to kill Rubina and melt away into the forest, or take her with them to some inaccessible place behind enemy lines. In addition, if the entire garrison blazed off in pursuit, they might find themselves forcing the hand of the English king to war before they were adequately prepared.
I think it would be worth it, to save Rubina. However, the king would exile the duke, were he to cause war before we were adequately prepared.
The duke nodded. “I see sense,” he said. His voice wept, if he did not – tense and tight with hard-held tears. Camden bled for him.
“I'll go ahead,” he said. “Send a force of eight men behind me, an hour behind at least. This is a scouting party. I reckon about five.”
The duke nodded. His big head turned to the guardsman.
“Assemble eight of the house guard,” he said simply. “Follow this man's directive.”
“Very good, milord,” the guard said. He directed a sour look at Camden.
He isn't pleased he has to obey me. Camden let out an indifferent sigh. At this point, he didn't worry over making enemies. He had to save Rubina. Feuds could be settled later, as time granted.
Camden turned away, putting the coin back into his pocket. He glanced about. It was dark, the torch cutting a swathe through the blue nightfall, sending shadows dancing in the forest. He had to be crazy, attempting to ride after her now.
Even if it were not dangerous, it's quite impossible to see.
He had no idea how they would track her.
“Sir Camden?”
He whipped round sharply, hearing his name. He found himself staring into a pale, wide-eyed face. It was a lady, pale-haired and tear-streaked. She regarded him stiffly.
“My good sir? If I can suggest aught?”
“Yes?” he frowned. He dimly recognized her as a lady he'd seen with Rubina once or twice. Mayhap she knew something about this no-one did.
“It's too dark to track her. But Lady Jessamine's lap-dog knows her scent.”
Dogs! He wanted to cry. It was so obvious. “Of course! Thank you. We'll use the hunting dogs.”
The lady grinned. He saw her blue eyes sparkle and realized she had a keen wit. “I suppose that's better than Thistle would have been.”
He laughed. “I think so. Though I thank you for the suggestion. It will make this quest possible.”
He looked into her eyes. She nodded. She was, he noticed, trying hard not to cry. He felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Camden?”
He turned to see Sean standing behind him.
“Yes?”
“I'll come with you?”
He shook his head. Noticed the lady glance at Sean, and saw him nod fractionally in her direction.
“It's well,” he said levelly to Sean. “I'm not going alone. Take care of things here.” He raised a brow and saw Sean nod, getting his message. Take care of the lady.
Camden turned away then, toward the duke.
“Sir?”
“Yes?”
“Could you grant permission to use the royal hunting dogs? They can track her. If someone can give them aught to track her with?”
The duke nodded briskly. “I'll see to it.”
Camden sighed. He felt his back ache, as if he was actually physically bearing the burden of all these hopes. The duke, his pale, drawn-faced lady, the friends and companions of Rubina. His own heart.
“Sir?” the guardsmen said. “Your orders?”
“Follow me,” Camden said tiredly. “Try not to get lost.”
The man nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Camden gave him a sidelong glare, wondering if he was being mocked. However, the youth seemed sincere and he forgot about it, burying it under his worry for Rubina. He had to find her soon. She had already been missing since that afternoon. Six hours.
He shuddered. She could be anywhere by now.
Ten minutes later, mounted and cloaked, six hounds and four men behind him, with five verderers to follow and hold the dogs, they were ready. The dogs were boar-hounds, massive, shaggy and slavering-jawed. Camden tried not to be aware of their growls and the deep, belling noise they made in response to the hunt master.
They were going to hunt down the English.
Find Rubina. Bring her home as well.
Camden closed his eyes, not allowing himself to think about what he would do to the English if they had harmed her. He would not let himself dwell on those thoughts. He had no room in his heart for anger, or for vengeance. Only for action. As well as a desperate plea: Find her. Let me find her soon and bring her safely home.
Nothing else was worth considering.