Elizabeth Elliott (11 page)

Whether he planned it or not, that was the result. The boar gathered its weight on its haunches and charged forward. The horses broke into a gallop at the same moment. Claudia’s fingernails dug painfully into the bark, but she kept her attention on Guy as the boar headed straight for him.

The animal swerved at the last moment, and the tip of Guy’s long lance glanced off its side. The slash from the lance did not stop or even slow the boar. It continued to head straight for Guy and his warhorse. Guy dropped his lance, and she realized that he held a sword in his other hand. In one blur of movement, he leaned low in the saddle with his sword extended. Another lance grazed the animal’s left side, but it was the lancer on the right who found a vulnerable purchase between the boar’s rib cage and haunch, an instant before the beast’s tusks would tear into Guy’s warhorse. That piercing blow made the animal stumble, then the lance snapped. The animal flailed its short legs then regained its balance, still looking as deadly as ever, still intent on Guy.

“Evard, Simon! Lances!” Guy gave that order as he wheeled his horse around. The warhorse bucked, then kicked its hind legs out in a flash of ironclad hooves. One hoof connected with its target and stunned the boar, but at a cost. The horse screamed as a long tusk raked into its hindquarter. Two more lances drove into the beast at the same moment, one into its neck in a blow that brought it to ground. Once more it struggled to its feet, this time with less vigor, and another lance appeared to strike its chest dead-center. The animal screamed long and loud.

Claudia turned her head and took deep breaths, trying to erase the bloody images from her mind. She couldn’t block the shouts of the men as they moved in for the kill, nor the eerie, almost human death cries of the beast. She wanted to scream as well.

The boar quieted at last, and Claudia lifted her head to search for Guy. He had dismounted, and another knight held the reins while Guy examined the damage done his horse. A slash of bright red blood streaked down from a wound to its back haunch, and the animal made restless movements as if to escape the pain. From the corner of her eye she saw the other soldiers as they tended their own horses and the fallen boar, but she refused to look in that direction.

“You may come down now, lady.”

The voice startled Claudia. She looked sideways and saw Evard. He was still mounted, his horse standing beneath the tree limb while he twisted in the saddle to look back at her. He gestured to the animal’s rump, then held up one hand. “Step onto my horse’s back, then I will lower you to the ground.”

She glanced toward Guy, then back at Evard.

“The baron must tend to his horse,” he told her. “Surely you do not wish to remain up there?”

Claudia shook her head. She eased her legs off the branch, then more of her weight, until her feet touched down on the horse’s broad back. She was surprised but thankful that the animal remained so still. Evard held her arm to steady her as she slid to the ground.

“Thank you for coming to my rescue,” she told Evard, careful to speak slowly so he could understand her.

“You owe the baron your thanks, my lady.” He would not meet her gaze, and seemed to look anywhere but directly at her. “For coming to your rescue, at least.”

She didn’t dwell on his odd reply. Another dizzy spell caught her off guard, most likely a result of being stretched out for so long on the branch then suddenly standing upright. She covered her eyes with one hand and steadied herself
against the horse’s rump with the other. Evard was dismounted and at her side in an instant.

“Sit here for a moment, Lady Claudia.” He led her a few paces away from his horse, but she refused to sit down.

“I will be fine in a moment,” she assured him.

“What is wrong with you?” Guy asked, as he walked up behind them.

Evard turned to face him, his voice accusing. “She is faint from her ordeal. I will stay with her.”

Guy looked from Evard to Claudia, then back again. “Nay, I do not think that is wise. Send someone for the others. We will continue our journey from here, but first I want Francis to tend my horse. Tell Stephen to ride double with another squire, and I will take his mount.”

Evard gave him a curt nod, but did not move from his place by Claudia’s side. “I did not think you were one to abuse defenseless women,” he said in a low voice, then he turned and stalked away.

Claudia stared after him, shocked that he would speak to his overlord in such a tone, and baffled as to where he came up with such an idea.

“Will you be all right?” Guy asked.

“What did—” She thought better of questioning him when she looked up and saw his scowl. “Aye. The spells do not last. This one has passed.”

“Good.” He walked past her and retrieved the sword belt he had tossed aside when the boar first appeared. “Cover yourself before the rest of my soldiers arrive.”

She remembered then that she had thrown her cloak over her shoulders to get the bulky garment out of the way. She gasped and pulled the edges forward until it covered her tattered gown. Guy ignored her as he examined his sword belt for damage, then strapped it around his waist. She glanced around the clearing and realized that all his men watched them. A few looked away to avoid her gaze. Others talked quietly among themselves. It was obvious that she and Guy were the topic of their conversation.

No wonder Evard acted so strangely. Her gown was ripped to shreds. Guy had removed his sword belt and weapons. It did not take long to realize the conclusion his men made of those facts. Her face felt on fire. She turned her back on the men and held out one hand to stop Guy before he could walk past her. “Your men—They think—”

“I know what they think.”

“You must tell them it is not truth!”

He looked grimly amused by her distress. “Why should I?”

“You would have your own men think you so dishonorable?” She shook her head. “You saved my life, Baron. I would not have anyone think you any less noble than you are, much less your own men.”

“What about your own reputation?”

“What about it?”

“Many will believe that I ravished you no matter what I say to the contrary. It will not matter if I order my men to silence. There will be whispers among them, and those whispers will spread. When they journey to tournaments or to court, the gossip will spread beyond Montague.” He folded his arms across his chest. “You are ruined, Claudia, and there is nothing I can do to alter that fact. Does that not concern you more than my own noble reputation?”

“Nay,” she said honestly. “At Lonsdale I told you the reasons I am unlikely to marry, and this is but one more. I knew when I asked you to take me on this journey that most would consider me ruined as a result. I am in your keeping without a servant or tirewoman to vouchsafe my reputation.” She shrugged her shoulders. “It seemed a small price for freedom, indeed, for my very life.”

He stared down at her, then slowly shook his head. “I cannot decide if you are the most cunning woman I have ever met or the most guileless.”

She gave an impatient sigh. “Will you explain to your men that they are mistaken in their beliefs?”

“I will tell Evard the truth of the matter,” he conceded,
“but he is probably the only one who will believe there is not more to the tale. The story will spread faster than the truth. The more one denies gossip, the truer it becomes in many minds.”

He was right. To insist upon the truth would only make the lie that much more believable. And the story would spread beyond Montague. She didn’t care what the English thought of her, but one opinion did matter. If Dante heard the gossip, he would be furious. She didn’t want to think about what he might do if he heard the lie before he heard the truth. “I worried that something like this might happen, and I tried to keep my gown covered for just that reason.” She stared at the ground. “I am sorry, Baron, but I am grateful you did not abandon me after all.”

“Believe me, Claudia, a little gossip is the least of my concerns.” He tilted her chin up with one finger. “Did you really think I would leave you here?”

She lowered her lashes. The gentleness of his touch felt almost like a caress, a temptation to move closer to his warmth into the sheltering safety of his arms. She took a deep breath to rid herself of those fanciful thoughts but caught his scent instead, the faint, masculine smell that she missed when they were apart. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized that she had missed him.

“Claudia?”

She took a shaky step backward and kept her gaze glued to the ground. “Aye, Baron. I know you despise me as much as you despise my family, and I myself suggested you abandon me. I thought you took that suggestion to heart.” She steeled herself to meet his gaze. It wasn’t so hard. His eyes were as warm and welcoming as his touch. She could stare at him for hours, remembered well enough what it felt like when she thought she would never see him again. “Rather than abandon me, you saved my life. I will prove myself worthy of the efforts you made on my behalf.”

“Will you indeed?” His voice lacked any trace of sarcasm.
He sounded curious. “And how do you intend to prove yourself?”

“I will make certain you are free of me,” she said. “And—and I will do everything I can to see that you get Halford Hall for a fair price.”

Both dark brows rose. “And how do you intend to accomplish that?”

She had said too much and tried to retreat to safer ground. “I do not know yet, but I will do what I can.”

“The men are ready to move out,” Evard said from behind her.

She turned around and noticed that the other soldiers had joined them. She had been so intent on her conversation with Guy that she didn’t hear their approach.

“Set a half dozen men to make a litter,” Guy ordered. “We shall dine on roast boar tomorrow. Have Stephen make room in a baggage cart for Lady Claudia. ’Tis too long a journey to burden his palfrey with two riders.” He turned and walked past her without another word.

“I will see that you are made comfortable,” Evard said, scowling as he watched him go.

“You are kind,” Claudia murmured. She knew the reason for his scowl, but decided it was not her place to interfere with Guy’s men. Evard would learn the truth soon enough from his overlord, then he would likely turn his scowls in her direction once more.

Evard motioned toward a two-wheeled cart that had pulled up beside them. A squire sat atop the gray gelding, which eliminated the need for a driver.

“There might be enough space near the quivers.” Evard pointed toward a stack of arrows at the center of the cart. Armor and weaponry crammed every available inch, but Evard started to climb into the cart. “I will stack the bows upright to make enough room.”

“Evard!”

Claudia glanced up to see Guy order Evard to the front of the procession with a gesture of his hand.

“You must excuse me, my lady. Young Jack here will help you get settled. We will stop to water the horses in about an hour when we reach the stream on the other side of the forest. I will check on you then to make sure you are comfortable.”

The baggage cart proved cramped, but Claudia did not complain of her small quarters. She managed to make enough space in the cart to curl up and sleep. It wasn’t comfortable. In fact, she thought it impossible to sleep in such a position until she woke up late that afternoon and realized she had done just that. She felt as if she could sleep forever. Every muscle in her body ached, and her head felt as if good Friar Thomas had taken a mace to it, the wretched man.

Rather than days, it seemed as if a lifetime had passed since she and Thomas had talked in the chapel gardens. Her whole life had changed from the moment she met Guy, along with the way she looked at everyone in it. The gentle friar was a spy and a knight, her uncle and a man of God would hang her to gain a few bags of gold, and the man she would dream about forever would probably forget her existence the moment he was rid of her. On top of all that, Guy spoke aloud the fear she had harbored for months. There was more than a small possibility that Dante was dead.

She untangled her leg from a crossbow and struggled to sit up. Self-pity would accomplish nothing, and she pushed those grim thoughts firmly aside. She had awakened because of the shouts from the soldiers who accompanied her, the calls to open the gates, then the cries of greetings. By the time she gathered her sleep-muddled senses they were inside the walls of a castle, a castle that must be Montague. The bailey they passed through looked larger than any at Lonsdale, with well-kept outbuildings along the walls and a few buildings that stood on their own. As orderly as the place looked, it smelled awful. The cart drew to a stop and she discovered the source of the foul odor. The cart had pulled up next to the stables.

Three young men dressed in brightly colored tunics stood
before a mound of soiled straw, and each leaned on a pitchfork. It took her a moment to comprehend that they were cleaning the stables in such fine clothes. A punishment for some boyish prank, no doubt, for they were too well dressed to be serfs.

She turned to survey the other castle folk who had halted their work to watch the procession of Baron Montague’s soldiers. Everyone in the bailey wore clothing too fine for the tasks they had set aside. Two women stood next to a vat of boiling tallow, dressed in simple but costly cambric frocks. A man with a bundle of wood slung over his back wore dark green hose and a matching tunic of woven linen. She looked from one building to the next, at the dozens and dozens of people gathered there. No one wore simple smocks or rough-spun tunics, and their clothing looked every color of the rainbow. Where were the serfs and villeins? Even freemen could not afford the clothing these people wore.

“You are to come with me, Lady Claudia.”

She turned toward the voice. A soldier stood near the back of the cart. He extended one hand to help her down, but had to wait while she picked her way around the stack of bows. He took her hand just long enough to steady her as she stepped down from the cart, then he turned and walked toward the front of the procession. Most of the soldiers led their horses toward the stable or gave directions to young boys who hurried forward to hold the reins of their mounts. The boys could not be stable lads, for they wore clothes fit for a squire. Surely there could not be so many squires in one castle, and what squire would serve a simple soldier?