Heartsong (5 page)

She frowned. He couldn’t have heard their plans, surely. Even after she nodded toward Arthur he hesitated.

Garrett roared, “Your horse! Now!”

Arthur raced for his horse, and the soldier driving her cart slapped the reins against the animal’s flank. She tried to ignore the throbbing in her shoulder as the horse moved forward, then she settled herself against the furs. Garrett

glowered at her before starting toward the end of the line.

Carefully, trying to avoid any more pain, she turned to watch as he rode beside the rest of his army. Aye, she and Arthur had to leave today.

Although she doubted he had heard their conversation, Garrett ordered Arthur to ride a goodly pace in front of her. She admitted deShay intended to keep them separated. Today, she even had a soldier walking beside the cart.

The gray clouds began to dissipate and she watched a weak sun begin its climb above them. It was then that Garrett ordered Arthur to the rear of the march. She couldn’t even see him for all the legs of the horses and the walking soldiers. Frustrated, she scowled as deShay rode past.

He stopped and she turned away.

“And good day to you,” he said.

She wondered why that taunting smile angered her so much.

Never had she liked being laughed at. She’d had five brothers who did just that. “It is not a good day,” she shouted back. “I am tired to death of riding. I need to walk, but your man says nay.”

“‘Tis for the best, wench. At least until after the nooning. Then, we’ll see.”

She stared into those deep blue-gray eyes and shivered. Something about him caused a reaction in her, one she couldn’t explain. She gazed at his lips—moist, wide, full—and the strangest sensation flowered in her stomach. More apprehension she told herself.

But, she knew she lied.

“I want to talk to my countryman.”

“I think not.”

Rhianna pouted. Such action oft times worked with her brothers. It seemed deShay was immune.

“Nay,” he answered, wheeled his horse around and raced toward the front.

The long day continued.

For a space of time she counted the minutes, but her panic grew. Arthur could have been a league away, for if she couldn’t see him, she could not signal to him.

Only a small part of the army paused for the midday

meal, and Rhianna wanted to scream. Her brother was not among those stopping to eat. She would have to move away from the soldiers to signal Arthur, but deShay refused to allow her to stroll beside the cart.

When the order to mount up came, she reluctantly ambled to her transport. She had no intention of sitting in that box, so she took her place beside the vehicle and moved forward at the command.

deShay glanced back once but said nothing. Oh, he wasn’t pleased, she could tell that, but he would allow her this tiny favor.

To her delight Arthur rode a few paces to her left, behind a group of foot soldiers. He’d hear her shout. Now, she only had to await the lethargy that soon would surely take its toll.

For over an hour, she strolled along, gazing often at the sky. Again it had turned gray and cloudy. The weather could only aid in their attempt. To her delight, a man behind her yawned. Boredom was sitting in. She’d be willing to bet they were not nearly as alert as they had been that morn.

When she dropped back a foot, then two, she watched the soldier driving the cart, alert for any action on his part. None came. She heard only a grumble, a mutter. Slowly, she slipped back more.

Finally, one of the foot soldiers noticed her position. She saw his confusion, then he frowned.

She had to act.

Now!

She turned and dashed for Arthur.

“Run!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. She rushed toward him, her arms outstretched.

He looked stunned. Then he reacted.

He yanked on the reins of the horse. He dashed off.

Away from the English. Away from her.

“Nay,” Rhianna howled in outrage.

He was a stupid clod! He needed to take her with him.

Three

Stunned, Rhianna watched three knights race after her brother, their swords drawn.

Oh, nay! What had she done?

She started to run after the knights. Her world tilted as she jerked through the air, then over the neck of a horse. But, not just any horse. deShay’s black beast.

His knee dug into her side. Her shoulder burned. She squirmed but deShay wrapped his hand around her narrow waist, holding her immobile. She could not see what was happening to her brother.

“Hold,” deShay yelled. She wondered if his yell was for her, for Arthur, or for his men.

She suffered through another dozen jolts before the horse reared into the air and slammed to a jarring halt.

He loosed his hand and she slid from the horse.

Oh Sweet Jesu, do not let me see my brother impaled upon an English blade.

But, Arthur stood, apparently unharmed, his face white and his arms twisted behind his back by one of Garrett’s men. She sagged with relief.

He was not dead.

Garrett grabbed her and yanked her before him.

“God’s Blood, you stupid wench! Do you want to see your protector slain before your eyes?”

He threw her from him and announced to the man who held Arthur captive. “I do not kill children. Release him.”

“Lydon! Joseph!” He shouted.

Lydon, still mounted, rode toward Garrett. Joseph was beside him in another moment.

“Get the boy,” Garrett ordered Joseph. Then he reached down and grabbed her around the waist, hoisting her up next to the other knight.

“Lydon, your care of the wench begins now. She will ride with you. I have no desire to see her for a time.” He rode away without looking back.

She was glad, aye, she was glad. Overjoyed that he had not ordered Arthur killed. She was just as glad he didn’t want to see her.

But she wanted to comfort her brother. She’d seen his embarrassment when Garrett said he didn’t kill children. Oh, St. Dafydd, but she would have to plan their next escape with more care. And there would be another escape. There had to be.

~ * ~

As dusk colored the evening sky a brilliant violet, the train of soldiers slowed their march. Rhianna, now seated in front of Lydon, slumped over the horse’s neck while bleak, cold reflections chased one another through her thoughts. She gave in to the need to gather some warmth and pulled her cloak closer.

She thought of the old, familiar wooden enclosure of her home and knew that Edward of England and Garrett deShay most likely had ordered it destroyed. Somewhere far behind them in Wales, she could only pray her brothers searched for Arthur and her, but they would only find the stain of the hated English. And, there was more.

Today she had almost lost her youngest brother through her own fault. She struggled as the edges of desperation invaded her soul.

“We stop for the night,” her guard told her as he lifted her from the saddle. “And, I will watch your tent this eve. You will not escape this night.” He glared at her and Rhianna lifted her chin.

“Arthur?” she asked, trying to sound unaffected by his words.

“Joseph will see to your protector.”

The way he said the last had her jerking her head toward him. Did he know, had somehow guessed that they were of the same blood? Nay, it was not possible.

She also knew she would get no chance to talk to Arthur tonight. When they brought her food, she nibbled at it and curled into the furs. But, long into the night, she tossed and turned, thoughts of escape racing through her head. They had to escape, but she had to make a better plan.

Morning came and deShay’s knight waited at the flap of the tent.

“You ride with me,” he said, grabbing her arm and pushing her toward his horse. In minutes, they mounted the steed and were on their way. She held herself rigid in the saddle before him.

For the first time in days, the sun shone bright and clear and white puffs like threads of wool laced the sky. Rhianna concentrated on the land, trying to hold her thoughts at bay.

When deShay had sent word he wanted their surrender, her father told her Knockin was near to the market town of Oswestry. In truth, she’d never been to a market town. She had always been too busy with the work of the keep to do much traveling.

Her thoughts turned to her father’s illegitimate daughter, the tiny child he placed in her arms soon after the mother died birthing her. Lilybet became the daughter she would never bear herself. She had given her half sister all the love she would have given her own child. At five, Lily was a delight and Rhianna had to return to the keep, if it still stood, for no one would care for the child as she did.

She buried her painful thoughts and forced herself to look at the countryside. Where was Oswestry? Startled, she glanced around. She’d paid the rising sun no heed this morn and now it was high in the sky. In what direction had they traveled and how could she and Arthur escape if they didn’t know in which direction to travel?

She had to remedy this immediately.

“Sir,” she turned in the saddle, “I do not know your name, and I would know if we travel north or south?”

“I’m called Sir Lydon Tomlaine, and we go north.”

“Sir Tomlaine, do we go north from Wales?” Rhianna asked.

“Aye,” Lydon chuckled, “and east and once, a bit west. But, I think you want to know the direction we take so you will know how to plan your escape.” His voice grew harsh. “But, know this! My Lord deShay has given you into my care and while you are with me you will not succeed.”

Dejection tugged at her. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth knowing not what cruel situation they would find when they reached Knockin. She shuddered, remembering her brothers and how they had laughed about men and how they used women. More dread raced through her. Garrett deShay could be no different. What would she do if he tried to bed her?

Unable to answer her own question, she blanked those thoughts from her mind and gave herself over to surveying the changing countryside, softer perhaps than Brynn Ffrydd, not as rugged, but beautiful in its own right. Rolling hills stretched out before her. The dull tans and drab yellows of drying grass gave way to the darker green of forest foliage.

Behind her trailed the bright colors of deShay’s army. Ahead of her rode the knights, the warm August sun glinting from their armor and shields. A few feet in front of Lydon and her, Arthur sat his nag and clung to the mane of the beast as he struggled to stay on the horse’s bare back. The knight at his side held the reins.

She looked for deShay and thought to find him in the parade before her. But the Baron of Knockin was not there. Had Garrett deShay left his men?

Still, they traveled on. The sun was still high above when Lydon stopped his destrier and dismounted. Without a word, he hauled her from the saddle.

“What do you do?” she asked, suddenly filled with apprehension. Surely this man would not claim her.

Lydon stared at the ground and suggested, “I thought you might need a bit more privacy than the men.”

Rhianna blushed at his suggestion and wondered if she should apologize for her thoughts. Nay, he was the enemy. She would say nothing.

Without another word, he led her forward and when the trees hid them from the rest of the army, he stomped off toward a distance boulder. He glanced in her direction once, then turned his back shouting, “If you try to escape me, we will not stop again.”

She cringed as he took his leave. For an instant she considered trying to run, then shook her head. Nay, not yet. She and Arthur must go together. Leaving without Arthur would never do, for if deShay were to discover he held the youngest son of a Prince of Wales, Arthur’s life would surely be forfeit. Besides, without a horse and a weapon, neither she nor Arthur would have a chance at success. Shrugging her stiff shoulder, she stumbled toward the trees for the privacy Lydon had provided.

When she’d seen to her needs, she started back toward the knight, knowing she would have to bide her time.

A deep rose and soft purple laced the sky above the trees to the west when Lydon stopped again. “Look yonder, over those trees. Tis Knockin.”

Rhianna gazed past his pointed finger. She saw first another hill, then atop that hill she glimpsed what could be a town, with gray stone walls reflecting the falling afternoon sun. Some kind of tower pressed into the sky. She swallowed her fear and pulled her shoulders back. With her nose pointed into the air, she sat the horse and imagined their arrival at the castle behind those gray blocks.

Would Baron deShay be waiting for her? Would tonight see the end of the maiden, Rhianna Ap Brynn Ffrydd? She closed her eyes and murmured a quick prayer.

They traveled on. The road twisted and turned as they climbed the hill to the town. As they drew nearer to the top, she could not still her pounding heart. A deep ditch surrounded the place and tall gray stones rose to protect those within. Suddenly, she realized what she viewed was not a town at all, but rather, the curtain walls of the keep.

With each step the horse took, she felt those gray blocks reach out to ensnare her. She stared at the home of the Baron of Knockin and tensed with dread.

She had expected something constructed of wood, something like her own keep, something from which she could escape. Not a prison made of stone.

Tipping her head back, she gazed up at the curtain of gray. Knockin was huge, beyond all comprehension. A tower guarded one corner and as they approached, an enormous gatehouse rose from the stone. She stared at the cavernous opening, black against the gray. It looked like the mouth of a monstrous serpent, waiting to devour her.