Arrow To The Heart (De Bron Saga) (7 page)

“Ah well and good if we can
find the boy!” Chadwick hugged his skinny arms around his horse’s neck.

“Ha, we
will find him, or my name is not Kendrick de Bron!”

It was to be an idle boast for although they searched high and low, looked behind trees, bushes and rocks they came up empty
handed.

“Impossible!” Where had the boy gone? How
was it possible to just vanish?

“Were I not a sensible man I might believe in magic,” Chadwick exclaimed.

“Magic? I think not.” Passing by a huge oak, Kendrick examined the yawning hole in its trunk. A small scrap of torn brown wool gave his fugitives hiding place away.

“He was there?”

Kendrick answered Humbley’s question “Aye, the clever, clever lad. He used the indentation in the trunk to blend into the trees, watching as we rode by.”

“And laughing.” Chadwick added.

“Forsooth, not for long.” Staring out at the horizon, Kendrick watched as the horse and rider galloped down the pathway that led back to the castle. “Clever perhaps, but not as clever as he supposes. Alas for him, he has been seen.”

“And now followed or so I would suppose.” Hesitating for just a moment, Humbley was ready when the order came.

“Aye.” Stuffing the piece of wool in his belt, Kendrick said only one other word. “Now!”

Rowena thankfully saw the wooden grids of the portcullis looming up ahead and sighed with relief, but the moment was ruined when she likewise heard the pounding of hooves and knew that she was being followed.

“Nay!” It could not be so. Ah, but it was.

Not even deigning to look behind her, she recklessly spurred her horse into a wild, mad dash. She couldn’t allow herself to be taken. Far too much was at stake. Grasping the reins tightly, Rowena crooned in her horse’s ear, urging the horse into a dangerous pace that visibly taunted, “Catch me if you dare.”

Kendrick tried, muttering curses under his breath all the while. At last, because his horse was more powerful, he closed the distance between them. “Stop, in the name of the prince! Stop, I say!”

Rowena wanted desperately to tell him to go straight to hell, but she was much too busy concentrating on her horsemanship. Quickly she took evasive action, guiding her horse in the opposite direction. All she could manage to shout out was a breathless, “Nay!”

Angrily Kendrick continued his pursuit, changing direction so that he was able to come up alongside his quarry. “Stop,” he ordered again.

Her heart beating painfully in her breast, Rowena reached out and struck at her pursuer. With a startling show of strength and agility she fought against the man who sought to subdue her. At last, once again, she broke free.

The hooves of her horse clattered loudly against the stones as she rode into the castle courtyard. Dismounting as quickly as she could, Rowena hid her horse at the far end of the stable. Tearing off her hooded cloak, loosening her hair, she ran frantically towards the castle.

Never had there seemed to be so many steps. Taking them two at a time, Rowena burst into her father’s room. “Quickly, pack up your things. We must get out of here.”

Eyeing her up and down, taking note of her dishevelment, Sir William said not one word in argument. He knew enough about the happenings in the kingdom to sense danger. Gathering together the meager possessions he had brought with him to
Nottingham Castle, he was soon ready to go.                                                                     

Chapter Seven

It was dark when Rowena and her father reached the
ir own home of Grantham Manor. Dark and stormy.  Rain and sleet from a sudden storm pelted the earth with a fury that caused her to shudder, bringing to mind tales and legends of spirits and ghosts that had roamed in days of old.  Truly they were showing their anger tonight.  Quickly tethering their horses, Rowena and her father ran to the door. Flinging it open they sought  shelter inside.             

Rowena quickly lit the five wall sconces one by one, smiling as
their small fires illuminated the tapestries adorning the stone walls.  The colorful pictures woven in thread told the history of the Fitz Hugh family, the villains and black sheep as well as the heroes, and daring exploits at the side of all the Norman Kings from William the Conqueror and beyond.  Lovingly the story of her Saxon ancestors was portrayed there as well, reminding her that just like the splendid wall hangings, she was a blending of Norman and Saxon blood.              

"Ah, there is nothing quite so welcome as a man's own hearth," Sir William e
xclaimed as he started a fire. With a contented sign, he rubbed his hands together while the flames warmed him.             

Rowena did not speak.  She was still recalling her narrow escape. The next time she might not be so lucky.  "Yon knight is most certainly a nuisance," she mumbled to herself.
             

"What did you say, daughter?"  Sir William turned his backside to the fire, warming that other part of his anatomy.
             

"I said that Prince John is nothing but a braying ass!"  As were the others in his entourage.
             

Nervously her father looked toward the door, as if fearing that portal had ears.  He lowered his voice.  "Have a care about your talk of John, daughter, lest you bring about our undoing." Pulling off his cloak, he hung it by the fire to dry.
             

Whirling around, Rowena
couldn't hide her irritation. Once her father had been brave and strong but no more. Now he seemed all too determined to appease John’s whims if it meant avoiding trouble. "We're not in the prince's castle now, Father.  You needn't be so frightened that someone will overhear."

He was quick to answer. “Nay, but I cannot forget our frantic journey here, nor the look on your face when you pushed through our chamber door and bid me to pack my things. Something has happened. What?”

“I overheard John’s treachery and…and I interfered!”

“Ahhhh.”  Sir William woefully buried his face in his hands. “I feared as much.”

“John was going to take Marian prisoner. I couldn’t in good conscience abide such a thing so I—“

“You what?” his hands trembled as he imagined the worst.

“I came upon her abductors and frightened them off.” She smiled sweetly. “’T is all.”

“’T
is enough!” pacing the floor he wrung his hands. “All is lost. We are ruined. John will not waste any time in sending his men here.” He looked towards the door. “They will carry you off and blame me for your transgressions and— ”

“They will not!” Coming up behind her father she gently laid a hand on his shoulder. “I was in disguise, Father. No one got a good look at my face. Not even Marian.”

“Thanks be to God!” Plopping his girth down in a wooden chair, sir William relaxed, then looking up at his daughter, scolded, “Marian, she is the cause of it all. She should never have spoken up but should have remembered a woman’s place.”

“A woman’s place?” Rowena rolled her eyes upward.

Sir William could see an argument brewing and hastened to get the upper hand. “Oh, I know full well what you intended to do during the festivities. To stand up and add your voice to Marian’s.”

“I didn’t….” Ah, but she would have and in hindsight wished she had.

“Which was wise, considering the danger you would have put yourself in. I warn you that it would have been foolhardy.”

“Nevertheless, I wish that I had. At least then one of us would have been brave.” There was a long hesitation then she exclaimed, “How much longer are the men of this land going to hide their heads? How much longer are you going to let a tyrant sweep through the countryside taxing and terrorizing the people?”

“Hush!” Putting his finger to his lips he cautioned her again.  "I said have a care, daughter, and mean it well.  Servants have been known to tattle and with their errant tongues cause mischief."             

"Have a care, have a care!"  Rowena's pati
ence was at the breaking point. "That's all you men ever say, while he whisks the land out from under your very noses.  And taxes. There are so many that even a cleric is pressed to keep track. A penny to collect firewood, though it be in plenty and scattered about. Agistment for the right to graze animals in the forest. Chiminage for the right to carry goods through the forest. Bodel, silver for the right to live in a house on the lord’s land. Why a poor villein even has to provide grain to feed the lord’s horses.”

Sir William defended a system that even he made use of. “That is the way things are, Rowena, the way things have always been.”

“And yet I have heard you too complain.” She took a deep breath. “Why, even upon death a family has to give the lord the dead man’s best animal. And what of me? Were John to make a demand of my maidenhead, would you grant his request, just to keep peace?”

Sir William shouted out, “Of course not!”

“And yet he freely takes anything that suits his needs at the moment--money, sheep, land, castles.” She took a deep breath. “When will he steal our home?  Tell me that, Father."             

His ill temper matched her own.  "Soon, if you don't mind your tongue." 
Just as quickly his mood softened. “Oh, Rowena, I know you were disappointed that I didn’t jump to Marian’s defense, but we will fight John, albeit in our own way.”

"Aye, in our own way."  She longed to tell him about her
escapades in the forest and about how she had fleeced one of John’s haughty lords, but the furl to his brows silenced her.  Caution was her father's way.  He was not daring nor bold and would only chide her for the danger she might have caused had she failed.  But she had
not
failed.

Going to the cellar for some wine, she heated it with a mixture of honey and clove.  Sitting before the fire
, she was silent as she brooded about all that had transpired at the prince's castle.  Something was being planned.  Something that went far beyond kidnapping the Lady Marion.  But what? Just how far was John willing to go? Even so far as murder?

"By firelight you look so much like your mother.  But your temperament......"  Sir William
threw his hands up in the air. "Bah!  It is all my fault."             

Rowena turned her head.  "What is, Father?"
             

"Your will
fulness," he answered sourly. "I took no time to teach you how to be soft and feminine.  Now it is time you found a husband and all you can think of is your hatred for Prince John."             

"A rightly deserved hatred," she shot back, defending herself.
             

"Rightly deserved or not
, I beg you to put it aside and think about your future." Moving closer to her he touched the tip of her nose.  "Why I would wager you were so busy being petulant that you hardly noticed that man who sat beside you at the banquet."             

Rowena stiffened.  "Man?  What man?" she asked coyly, trying not to conjure up the memory of that man kissing her.
Alas, it was impossible not to remember the softness, the fire. Touching her fingers to her lips she shivered, but not from the cold. Instead another emotion flowed through her body, a bewilderingly pleasurable tingle. It was because of the honey, clove and wine of course.

"A most eligible man, that's who.
Dark haired and bold"  One booted foot tapped in agitation on the hard earthen floor.

Remembering his glittering brown eyes Rowena blushed in spite of herself.  "Oh, that man."  She was quick to give her opinion.  "He was naug
ht but a vain and pompous braggart, one of the Prince's hounds to follow at the royal heels."  She stuck her nose up in the air.   "I hardly even noticed him."             

"Certainly he took notice of you.
And I took notice of him." Rowena could sense a lecture coming.  "He is the sort of man I would like to see you married to before I die.  A man who could take care of you."             

"Married to
! Him!"  Rowena nearly spilled her wine. "Marry you say. I would as soon be thrust into the jaws of a dragon!"  She shook her head angrily as she remembered the taste of his kiss, the feel of his fingers on her skin.  Why, the man had brutally pawed her as if her wishes in the happenings had not even mattered. Marry a man like that?  Never!             

"
A dragon, you say. Would you?"  William's mouth tugged up into a smile.  "Daughter you protest too....."   A loud banging upon the door interrupted them.  "God's blood, what is that uproar?"  He soon had his answer as the door was thrust open and a woman pushed into the room.   Her arms were outstretched, imploring help. A flash of lightning illuminated her tear stained face. "Gwyneth!"

“What is it? What has happened?” Rowena hastened to the side of the woman who had been her childhood nurse, friend and companion.

"They....they came.  They took all," Gwyneth warbled, throwing her hands about like a wounded bird. She looked so pitiful standing there, her garments soaking wet.

It was obvious that the old woman was on the verge of hysterics. Rowena asked softly, “Took what?
” Trying to calm Gwyneth, she put her arm around the distraught woman once again.             

"Took everything.  Ethelred tried to fight them, but
…but… there were too many.  Too many.  And now his heart......."               

"Take me to him
."  Compassionately Sir William followed Gwyneth to the rickety wagon just outside the door, bent down to pick up the wet and blood-covered figure of the white-haired Ethelred, and gently carried him inside. He placed him gently upon the reeds before the fire, then knelt down beside him.             

"
They came. Who came?"  Rowena knew the answer before the words were out.             

"The p
rince's men.  They claimed the cottage, our poor little cottage and....and threw us out into the storm."             

"Damn them!"  Rowena's face flushed with anger. 
What kind of man would steal the cottage of an old man and old woman? What kind of monster would want to harm two gentle old souls? "Is no one safe from that reptile's evil?  No, of course not."  Regaining control of her emotions, she sought to calm her old nurse, giving the woman a sip of the hot wine.  "Here, it will be all right," she crooned, not believing her own words for a moment.             

"No!  No! Nothing will ever be right again,"
Gwyneth gasped, casting he eyes towards her husband.  His face was deathly pale, his features contorted in a grimace of the pain he had suffered, his hand still clutched at his chest. 

"They've killed him
.  He has not the strength to do battle and yet he fought them for my sake."  She too seemed on the verge of collapse and Rowena could only guess at the furor they must have been engulfed in.             

"I warned you, Father.  Do you now urge me to "have a care"? she raged, gently mopping the damp from
Gwyneth's brow. 
Oh, if only I were a man I would show them all
, she thought sourly.  But she wasn't. She was a woman, condemned by the skirts she was forced to wear.  All she could do was to buzz around the prince’s men like a gnat, annoying and humiliating them.  She hadn’t the power to fight, at least not hard enough to make a difference.

"Rowena, there wasn't anything that you or I could have done."  Sir William's tone sounded as if he were talking to a child.  "I know the world can sometimes be cruel but...."
             

"But nothing!"  Though she knew it to be disrespectful
, Rowena muttered beneath her breath, "Cowards every one."             

This time she went to
o far and sparked her father’s anger. "Daughter, hold your tongue!"  For just a moment it seemed that William would strike her, but his raised hand fell uselessly at his side.  "You...you are too young to understand."             

"Too......"  Rowena grew suddenly silent as she
thought she heard a deep gurgle come from Ethelred's throat.  Hurrying to his side she put her head to his chest, listening for the beat of his heart. There was no beat, only the steady gaze of Ethelred’s eyes that frightened her, as if he was seeing beyond her into another world. “Ethelred…”

Not wanting to admit to the reality of Ethelred’s death, Gwyneth threw herself forward, grabbing for his hand. “Husband. Husband, speak to me.” Like a woman possessed she pushed at his chest, trying hard to make him come alive again.

It was no use. He was dead. There was nothing anyone could do.

“Poor old soul. H
e who never harmed a living creature.” Sir William reached out his big hands, closing the old man’s eyelids.