Siege Of the Heart (34 page)

* * * *

The midday meal came and went, and Isabel strove to ignore the hunger plaguing her.

“Here, eat this.”

Isabel looked up, momentarily blinded by the sunlight that backlit the person before her. She gradually made out the rangy body and golden beard. “Kendrick?” Her voice creaked from disuse.

“As you see,” he said with a small smile. He quickly glanced over his shoulder, then dropped a crust of bread into her lap.

She had given up hope of being fed. “Thank you for thinking of me.” Her polite words did little to cover up the greedy way she snatched the bread and stowed it under a fold in her cloak. There was still so much to ask him, how he had come to be there, but he seemed uneasy they would be caught together.

“Are there others here?”

He shook his head and moved a few feet away but not out of hearing distance.

“You told Julien where to find me,” she said quietly. She was not sure if she should condemn or thank him.

Kendrick looked at her then. “Yes, but—” He walked away from her as a group of Englishmen came toward them.
 

Her disappointment at his disappearance was only partially mitigated by the bread she had hidden away. No doubt Kendrick brought her food of his own free will and was worried he would be caught at it. Everyone, including herself, was uncertain of her standing. She was still a prisoner, despite her brother’s protection.

Nevertheless, she relished the nourishment the bread afforded and did her best not to call attention to Kendrick’s gift, taking stealthy bites when no one was looking.

Toward mid-afternoon, judging by the position of the sun in the sky, more men converged in camp as their duties were completed. As far as she could tell, her brother’s companions were separated into groups responsible for different tasks, with the bondsmen relegated to more menial work. Some collected firewood and kindling, others concentrated on hunting and food preparation. Some served as outlooks on the outskirts of camp. Still others sharpened axes and arrowheads, which spoke more of their intentions than anything else.

With the day’s work behind them, the mood around camp lightened. One knot of men became involved in a game of dice while other groups of men played draughts. Drink was passed around and the men became boastful in their talk and bold in their play. As it grew darker, the campfires blazed higher, and meat was placed on spits, the smell reminding all that supper was near.

Isabel shrank as far away from the firelight as she could. Given her tenuous status, she did not want to attract undue attention even though everyone was probably aware of her presence in camp. It was only a matter of time before someone latched onto it, like a dog worrying a bone, unwilling to leave off.

She found herself watching a particular group of men who had returned from a day of hunting. They immediately gorged themselves on the available ale before launching into a game of draughts nearby. She heard their wild boasts from where she sat. They would soon exhaust all the insults they could throw at each other, and then she feared they would ridicule whatever else was at hand—her.

“And that’s another for me,” bragged a hulking brute of a man with beady eyes nearly lost in his fleshy face. “You know, if you keep losing, we’re going to wonder whether you are man enough to wield that axe of yours.”

The resulting guffaws did little to lessen his younger opponent’s embarrassment. “Fool, I am more a man than you. What was it I heard? You needing to blindfold a woman before she’d have you?”

“Nonsense,” said the first. “A lass need only see my manhood to know the bliss she’d have rutting with me.”

“So then it wasn’t rape I saw between you and that maiden at the last village?”

“No, it wasn’t,” the first man said, anger in his voice. “It was, how do you say…spirited lovemaking. Spirited lasses always bring the best out of ye.”

“No honor comes from taking what is not offered,” the younger ground out.

“Oh no—all this talk about honor. You wouldn’t know honor if it slapped you in the face.”

“I am not the one having trouble finding willing lasses.”

The words pushed the first man over the edge. Their companions seemed to realize the imminent confrontation and took up positions around the two men to keep them from attacking the other.

The first easily shook off the men holding him back by the shoulders. “Then let’s put those words of yours to the test. If you can’t make that creature over there bed you, the rest of your purse is mine.”

“Fool, that woman is off limits, and you know it,” the younger man said with nary a glance at her.

“That woman’s off limits,” the first mimicked, his face flushed with drink. “From what I’ve heard, that trollop has willingly spread her legs for those rutting Norman dogs. It’s time she learned what a good Englishman can show her.”

The men had come closer now, inexorably drawing her into their circle.

“In fact, she is already trussed up, so it should not be too hard.” The first man grabbed her wrists and hauled her to her feet. She did her best to hide her dread, willing her features to remain impassive.

The younger man looked at her with a mixture of pity and disgust. “That’s your way, not mine.”

“She has already known a Norman devil’s bed,” the first man scoffed. “She deserves nothing more.” He tugged again on her ropes.

Isabel forgot how to breathe as the men pressed closer.

“She deserves your respect,” her brother interjected.

Isabel sagged with relief at Julien’s timely arrival and tried not to show emotion. She would not give these men the satisfaction they had succeeded in needling her.

Hoof beats echoed. The men shifted uncomfortably around her. The mysterious Alric must have returned. Even Julien looked upset at the leader’s arrival. The man in question rode straight toward them, two men-at-arms following. Dark brown hair touched his shoulders and his full beard helped mask the bitter lines of his mouth. He carried an axe, like Julien and many of the other Englishman. As he swung down from the saddle, Isabel could see Hastings had left him unscathed. He handed off his reins to one of his men. She was certain his intelligent gaze had not missed the confrontation or the cause behind it as he surveyed the camp.

“My, my, Dumont. Surely your sister knows better than to keep company with these men.”

At his words, the first man released his grip on her. Without his support, she struggled to stay upright, her shackled feet precariously balancing her. Julien grabbed her by the shoulder as she started to sway. Before he removed his hand, he squeezed her in what she hoped was a comforting if not cautionary gesture.

Seeing their leader had trained his gaze on Isabel and her brother, the rest of the men crept away to rejoin the others around the fire, no doubt eager to avoid any censure for their actions.

Once the men were far enough away, the Englishman spoke again. “Forgive them. Most are simple farmers and do not know how to give a lady proper respect.”

“I am sure I am not worthy of such respect in their eyes…or yours,” Isabel said.

He was silent for a moment, and she ignored the way Julien tensed beside her. “Indeed, your forthrightness should surprise me not, from what your brother told me, but I find myself amused nonetheless. Forgive me, where are my manners? My name is Alric of Evesham. Welcome to our camp.” With a flourish, he gestured at their surroundings.

Isabel remained unaffected by the display while Julien stood awkwardly silent next to her. “My brother told me to ask you whether I can have my ropes removed.”

“Did he now?” Alric flicked an inscrutable look at Julien.

“Am I a prisoner?” Isabel asked, which brought his gaze back to her.

He gave a short laugh. “A prisoner? No. We went to a great deal of trouble to rescue you from those Norman brutes.”

She raised her wrists, displaying the corded rope. “Then these are?”

“Merely precautions. We don’t want you getting overexcited. There is much to be done.”

“You do realize, I cannot be ransomed. As my brother can attest, our father’s legacy has already been passed on in marriage.”

“Where do you get such ideas, my dear? Your brother informed us of your plight, and we were eager to rescue such an innocent from Norman corruption.”

Isabel studied him, put off by his honeyed words and his too-handsome bearing. His tone was a counterpoint to the sharp look in his eyes and tightness in his jaw. No wonder Julien did not want to provoke him. He was not a man who would forgive easily.

“Enough talk. I’m hungry,” Alric said.

He led Julien and Isabel to the fire. Men cheered or raised their cups as he passed. He took the central seat, bidding Isabel to sit beside him. She did not miss the way her brother winced as he stiffly sat cross-legged on the ground nearby. Alric gave the signal for food to be served, and a bondsman brought over meat and bread. Isabel was hard-pressed to keep the food from spilling on her, but she managed to feed herself with her hands tied, nonetheless.

“Dumont, I’ll need you and Kendrick to take two men to Burford to get some supplies. Leave after you have eaten your fill.”

Julien gave her a harsh look, bidding her to be silent, before he turned to Alric. “As you wish.”

“I’ll expect your return in two days’ time.”

Julien grunted in acknowledgment, and Isabel’s hopes sunk. Days of hard riding would further impede recovery from his injury. Julien’s presence was the only reason she was being treated fairly. If she protested his assignment, she might weaken him further in the eyes of his men. Deep in her gut, she knew the next two days would be the hardest yet without Julien or Kendrick around.

When her brother finished eating, he drew her up beside him and led her to her blankets.

“Julien…”

“Behave, little sister. I’ll be back soon.” A bitter laugh bubbled up inside her, but all Julien offered in return was a quelling look. Then he was gone.

* * * *

The next morning, a stranger jostled Isabel awake. “Who are you?” she asked blearily, trying to get her wits about her. A thin layer of frost covered her blanket. Daylight had just broken, and she could hear the men beginning to stir.

“I’m hurt you don’t remember me, lass.”

Isabel shook away the rest of the sleep still clinging to her and reassessed the man before her. He was the man behind her kidnapping, the one who brought her here in the first place.

“You!” She threw herself out of his grip.

“Not so fast, lass. Your brother bade me look after ye while he was away. If you don’t like it, then you won’t mind if I send Alric over instead.”

Isabel stilled, recalling the rebel leader’s steely gaze. She wanted no part of him.
 

The man snorted. “Thought not.” He guided her to her feet and led her outside the camp so she could relieve herself. He also gave her the opportunity to walk about a bit to work out some of the stiffness from sleeping on the ground. Throughout it all, she refused to speak to him.

Just before they returned to the camp, the man pulled her off the path between two bushes. For what purpose? Her stomach lurched when she realized she could no longer make out the campfires. She tried to shake the man off, but he held firm. His hand on her chin forced her to face him.

“Alric will be looking for an excuse to use you against Julien.” He let her go once he had her attention.

“What is your name?”

“Osbert of Tamworth”

She nodded. “Well, Osbert, somehow I doubt I’ll be able to prevent Alric from doing what he sets his mind to.”

Osbert backed off. “Just remember there is only so much I am willing to do for a Norman whore.”

Isabel flinched at his words but did not protest as he pulled her back on the trail toward camp. He deposited her at her blankets before he returned to his duties. She understood his warning for what it was, but she knew Alric was both cunning and determined.
 

If he wanted to use her against her brother, she was in no condition to protest, being half-starved, weaponless and without companions.

22

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Waiting for the men’s return was Isabel’s only occupation. Once Alric arrived in camp, he again requested her presence next to him during the meal with a sharp tug on her ropes. His touch sent warnings throughout her body.