Chapter Two
The dreary day was lined with gray skies and wet earth. A long line of horses trudged through the mud of the road, making it difficult to pull the wagon.
Luke maneuvered his horse to the side of the line warriors. Weary mounted knights passed with slumped shoulders, too tired to look up at him as he waited. The clump clump of the horses sounded as the men rode by. They had ridden from the coast after crossing from France to bring Lord Tristan home. The creak of the wagon wheels came closer. Luke took up pace beside it. Tucked in thick blankets like a swaddled new born, Lord Tristan rested in the back of the wagon. His eyes had not opened since he received his wound on the battlefield fighting the French. During the battle, Luke had been too far away from him to prevent the blow that landed on his head. Luke had managed to make it to his side before the second blow finished his life. It had been a count who begged for his life at the tip of Luke’s sword when Luke got the upper hand. He took the count prisoner, but was too worried about Lord Tristan to truly care. The battle over, physicians hovered about Lord Tristan. Yet, still he had not opened his eyes. Luke offered to escort him home and was granted the pardon by his liege, Prince Edward, to do so. Now, he wasn’t sure if Lord Tristan would survive the trip. Luke glanced at the physician. “How is he?”
A small, round man was seated at Lord Tristan’s side. He shook his head. “He hasn’t woken, my lord.”
But he hasn’t passed. Luke was grateful for that. It took a moment for Luke to realize the title was for him. He acknowledged it with a nod of his head. My lord. He would never get used to the title. Prince Edward had granted him land and a castle in Andover, just outside of Winchester for saving Lord Tristan’s life and capturing the count. Concern hung heavy in the pit of Luke’s stomach as he turned his horse and trotted to the front of the line where his trusted friend, Walter Gray, rode. Luke met his inquisitive gaze with a grim stare before looking away.
“This weather can’t be good for him,” Walt said, gazing at the sky.
Luke didn’t care. “We’ll be at Tiverton soon.”
“He might not make the journey,” Walt said quietly.
“He will,” Luke replied, insistently. He had made a vow to see Lord Tristan home, to his daughters. Mel and Nessa. He was grateful to be on English soil again. After the battle, Luke had somehow come out a hero, distinguishing himself by saving Lord Tristan’s life. He didn’t feel like a hero.
Soon, the castle rose before them. Luke had sent a rider ahead to announce their return. The gates were opened for them and villagers lined the streets in welcome. But Luke noticed the solemnness on their faces. Perhaps because they knew their lord was injured. As they rode to the keep, Luke saw a blonde woman standing before the doors, surrounded by ladies and knights, and quickly recognized her as Mel. His gaze scanned the crowd, but he couldn’t see Nessa. She was probably off riding one of the steeds or planting in the garden. But prickles of apprehension danced up his spine. She should be here to welcome her father home. Luke brought the line to a halt before the keep doors.
A small boy rushed forward to grab the reins of Luke’s horse as he dismounted. Melwyn came forward. She was stunning, much more beautiful than he remembered. She had grown up, become a young woman. Her large blue eyes glinted with concern.
“Luke!” She threw her arms about his shoulders. “Luke!” She pulled back, her eyes dancing over the line of men. Alarm made her eyes wide, and carved deep grooves in her forehead.
“Do not fear,” Luke said softly. “Your father is home. He is—”
“Nessa…” she gasped.
Luke scowled. “Nessa?”
“He took her!” Mel grabbed his arm, shaking it. “You have to do something. I didn’t know what to do. But you can—”
“Someone took her?” Luke clenched his jaw and straightened. “Who took her?” Walt came to his side.
“Urien,” Mel gasped, squeezing his arm. “We were on our way home from the village. He surprised us.”
Urien. Luke’s brow lowered into a scowl. He was the neighboring lord’s son. He had hated Nessa when they were children. Prickles raced across Luke’s neck. He turned to see servants unloading Lord Tristan from the wagon. He glanced back at Mel. “Are you all right?”
Tears welled up in Mel’s eyes. “You have to find her, Luke. You have to.”
“Did you send men after them?”
Mel opened her mouth and then shut it. Guilt filled her quivering lower lip. “I didn’t… I never…”
Nessa was the one who ran in the castle in her father’s absence. Luke knew that even though she was the younger sister, Nessa was the one the people looked to for guidance and protection. She was never any good with tallies nor details, but she was compassionate and they knew she would do whatever it took to take care of them. He grabbed Mel by the arms. “Why didn’t you take guards with you?”
Mel’s lower lip puffed out. “We did. He killed them.”
Luke released Mel. Killed them. He looked toward the open gate. Nessa. Luke stepped away from Mel. “Walt. Stay here. Guard the castle.”
Mel reached for him. “Where are you going?”
“I’ll take five men and go after Nessa. How long—”
“No!” Mel grabbed his chain mail sleeve, halting him. “Don’t leave me!”
Luke took her hands in his, prying them free of his chain mail. “I have to go after Nessa.”
“Send someone else. Don’t leave me,” she begged. “I’m frightened, Luke.”
“Walter will stay here with you. It is my duty to make sure you are both safe.”
She looked at Walter.
“He’ll keep you safe,” Luke reassured her.
“You’ll bring Nessa back?”
“Yes,” Luke promised with conviction.
Mel nodded and released him. She folded her hands into her chest nervously.
He turned to Walt. “He couldn’t have gotten far. You have the castle.”
Walt nodded.
Luke swung himself up onto his horse. He pointed at five trustworthy men, ordering them with him. “Ride with me.” He looked at Mel. “I’ll be back.”
Nessa sat on the ground near a tall tree with her knees pulled up to her chest. She hugged her knees as she eyed the men in the camp sitting around the small clearing. She counted them again. Eight, including Urien. Urien. She remembered him from when they were young. He had squired for a while with her father. She couldn’t count the times he had pushed her down in the mud. Only her, never Mel. He took great pleasure in telling her that was because Mel was the heir and she was nothing. She remembered the last time he had shoved her down. She had landed on the wet ground, in a puddle, soaking her beautiful new dress. Hurt and angry, she dug deep in the puddle for a large wad of soaking earth and tossed it at him. It hit him squarely on the cheek. Shocked, she had run. But he had caught her.
She mentally shook herself from her reverie. That had been years ago. She would not be afraid of him, she vowed. She watched him stroll across the camp. Long red hair hung in stringy locks to his shoulders. His hand rested on the pommel of his sword. A big sword. She quickly averted her eyes. I will not be afraid of him. Her gaze came to rest on one of his men. He was hunched over, tearing pieces of meat from the rabbit they had caught. A large piece caught in his black beard, but he continued attacking the meat he was eating. He wore no heraldry. None of them did. Could they be mercenaries? No. Urien was an outcast, banished by his own father’s decree; she had heard the stories of his banishment from several different merchants. He had nothing to pay the men with. She wondered what he had promised them.
A stream gurgled by to her left. She couldn’t see it, but she knew it was there by the rushing sound. She looked up at the leaves of the trees. Beyond them, she saw the sky was darkening. She should try to escape. She didn’t know what plans Urien had for her. He might ransom her. He might try to wed her. The thought alone was enough to make her ill. She had to remember that he thought she was Melwyn. He would never harm Mel; she was too important as heir to Castle Greymount. But if he ever found out she was Nessa, he would kill her. She had no doubt.
Urien spoke to one of the men quietly. There were six men, including Urien, in the camp now. That left two walking the perimeter of the camp on guard duty. Even if she managed to get away from the camp, she would have to be careful not to run into the other two.
Urien turned suddenly and strode toward her.
Nessa tightened her grip on her legs.
He wore leather armor covering his torso and black breeches. He stopped before her.
She stared at his spread legs, her fingers clutching the folds of her cotton traveling skirt.
“Are you hungry?” he asked. “I brought some rabbit for you.”
Nessa was hungry. She nodded.
He held out a piece of rabbit.
She looked up. His fingers were greasy and pudgy. But she was hungry. She took the meat from him and took a bite. He turned to walk away. Nessa swallowed the rabbit. “It’s getting cold,” Nessa called. When he stopped and turned to her, she asked, “When will we arrive at Kernwith Castle?”
“We’re not going there.” His shrewd eyes raked her. “We’re going to the caves.”
Caves? For a moment, her mind wouldn’t fathom what caves. Then she remembered. The St. Agnes caves. She didn’t understand. Why would they be headed there to those wet, cold caves? The caves were many days ride! What could be there?
He squatted before her. “After what happened beneath the oak tree… You remember, don’t you?”
Nessa’s heart hammered in her chest. How could she remember? She was never there! She nodded, fear clenching tight in her stomach.
His gaze softened. “I can’t forget. After all these years. I couldn’t forget. You must have known I’d come for you.”
“But the caves… Why go to the caves?” Nessa couldn’t help asking. She hoped it wouldn’t give her away, but she had to know.
“The legend. You know the legend. You told me of the legend.”
Nessa almost cringed. Not that damned legend again. For a while it had been all Mel could talk about. The legend of the two lovers. She was convinced it was true. That she and Luke were destined to be in love forever. Nessa had never told her that Luke had touched the stain with her. It would have crushed Mel. And then Luke had left with their father to fight the French with Prince Edward. There had been no more time for fantasies or legends. “Of the lovers.”
Urien grinned. “Of the lovers. We will put our hands on the stain, you and I.”
Even as her stomach plummeted in hopelessness, Nessa nodded. Good heavens! She knew she had to escape now. He was a madman. She was very curious as to why Mel would have even spoken to him, let alone told him the legend?
He reached out to her and touched her hand. “I knew Luke was coming to marry you. I had to get to you before he returned.”
She tried not to quiver in repulsion as his greasy fingers trailed along her hand. How would anyone find her? They would think Urien would take her to Kernwith Castle. That was where she thought he was taking her. That would be where they would look. She had to leave some trail. Something. She took another bite of the rabbit.
He stood to tower over her. “You are a guest in my camp. Anything you want is yours.”
She swallowed the rabbit, hard. Then, she forced a grin to her lips.
Urien returned to camp.
As Nessa watched him move away, despair swept through her. Her sister must have sent guards after her. Maybe they would find her. How could she sit and wait for a rescue that might never come? She had to be alert. She finished eating the rabbit. Only the bone remained. She stared at it for a long moment. Maybe it was something she could use. She eased her dress up to her ankle and glanced around, making sure none of the mercenaries were watching. She put the bone into her boot.
She had to look for a way out. She had to escape before Urien found out she wasn’t Mel.