Siege Of the Heart (35 page)

Isabel watched Alric closely while they ate. As much as she disliked him, his ability to converse with the men and garner their respect was impressive. He wielded his silver tongue well, and it became increasingly clear how this man was able to wrest control of the rebels from her brother. When Alric spoke, the Englishmen listened.

The meal over, the men moved on to their idle chatter. Isabel had grown stiff, and she longed to move about before she retired for the evening. Without her brother there, though, she felt even more vulnerable.

“It is time you upheld your end of the bargain,” Alric said, his words pulling her out of her reverie. She was keenly aware of the way his gaze had fallen on her periodically throughout the supper, a man assessing his prey.

She stiffened. “What bargain? What are you talking about?”

He chuckled at her, indulgent, as if she were a child. “You were in London. You have seen William and his men. I have many…questions. And you must earn your keep.”

Knowing looks passed between the men sitting closest to them, and menace lay behind Alric’s words.

“After all, we went to all that trouble to rescue you.” The hard stare he leveled at her felt as though he could see through her worn clothing to the flesh they adorned.

What little meat and bread she had eaten turned to lead in her stomach, but she would go to hell before she let him know how much he sickened her. “Pray then, explain why you are still treating me as a prisoner?” She raised her bound hands so they were framed by the firelight.

“Because you are not to be trusted. Not yet,” he said with a smug glance at the rest of the men. “Come.”

He grabbed the rope holding her wrists together and pulled her up until she stood unsteadily on her feet. She looked out among the smirking men, seeking, then finding, Osbert. For an instant, her gaze collided with his, but he studiously looked away when Alric dragged her forward.

“I won’t let you do this,” Isabel said as he escorted her from the campfires and his men’s prying eyes.

A muscle in his cheek twitched before he forced another smile. “You are in no position to argue.” His fingers tightened into the flesh of her upper arm, emphasizing the annoyance he felt.

“My brother—”

“Is not here. And you would do well to listen to me.” He left the threat unfinished, hanging over them, as they moved further from the firelight to the edge of the woods bordering the camp. “Tell me what you know about the Bastard.”

Where could she start? She resisted the urge to throw up her hands. “You will have to be more specific.”

The moonlight glinted off his bared teeth. “How many men does he have?”

“In London?” Isabel tried to recall the conversations she overhead between Alex and his men, but she had been so preoccupied with her situation, she had barely listened at the time. The Normans were in control. That was all that mattered.

Alric gave a cruel tug on her wrists, and she nearly tripped. “Five thousand, maybe more. I am not certain. I am only a simple woman and cannot remember—”

His harsh laugh cut her off. “Come now. You expect me to believe you learned nothing, sharing a bed with one of William’s favorites? You may have fooled your brother into thinking you are an unwitting victim in all this, but I know better. Now tell me what you know, and I will consider letting you live to see your brother when he returns.”

“What do you want me to say? Harold’s army was all but destroyed by the Normans. And although you and my brother wish it otherwise, your little band here is not enough to take back this land.”

Alric spat and walked faster, Isabel hard-pressed to keep up with the rope around her ankles shortening her strides. “Mayhap not yet, but the day will come.”

“Your fine words might convince your men, but they do not change the fact the Normans outnumber you. Why, beyond the men I saw in London, there are other contingents sweeping the land for rebels, the remnants of the English army.”

Alric glanced back at her, his face indistinct but no less menacing in the dark. “Ha. If that is true, then there is naught to fear. The bastards will never be able to find us. This is our land.”

“Not any longer.”

He said nothing as he came to a halt near the tree line. The campfire was a mere speck by now and the full force of night had settled over them. She stopped a pace behind him.
 

He finally spoke, keeping his back to her. “The English people are strong. They will not tolerate a foreign ruler.”

“You did not see the London townspeople,” Isabel said softly. Alric cocked his head at that. “They are bitter, angry, yes. But what surprised me most is their resignation. They honestly feel God has abandoned the English people.”

Alric spun toward her. All she could make out was a brief glimmer of his eyes. “I refuse to believe God would punish us with Norman conquerors.”

“But the Pope—”

“The Pope is William’s puppet, naught else.”

What more could she say? She flexed her wrists. “Return me to camp. I have answered your questions.”

He was too still. She barely made out his breaths over the sudden acceleration of her heart.

“Ah, but I still have one more question.” He grabbed her by the hair and tilted her head back. “Why would a good English girl give herself to one of those thieving Normans?”

She swallowed a cry. “I had…no choice.”

Alric laughed, low and bitterly. She imagined a cruel grin stretched across his face. “We all have choices. For example, I could choose to take you back to camp this instant.” He gave her hair a sharp tug. “Or I could lower myself to take a Norman whore as my own and make it all the easier to keep your brother in line.”

Her stomach twisted as his breath wafted over her face.

“Now what do you think I choose?”

When he leaned toward her, Isabel lost herself to instinct, slammed her knee up and out, striking his groin. It was not a direct hit, as her bonds still restricted much of her movements. His startled groan was her reward.

“You stupid bitch.” He struck her across the face with his fist.

He had bloodied her lip. The metallic taste sent a rush of panic through her. She spat at him as he came after her again. She managed to twist out of his reach, thanking God the bond slaves had kept his ale cup full at supper. It gave her a small measure of hope. If Alric had been sober, she feared she would not be able to evade him for long.

He swung out again and caught her with his fist, sending her scrabbling across the wet ground. Reaching out with her bound hands, she searched for a sharp rock or stick, anything to repel him. He lunged as she closed her hand around a stone. Grabbing her hips, he swung her around to face him. She did not resist his power, instead using it as momentum as she locked her arm and drove the stone into his temple.

He grunted and toppled back, dazed, leaving her enough time to move away from him. Too soon he was back on his feet. He lurched forward, and his weight dragged her with him to the ground. She pushed her hands up and locked the rope between her wrists against his windpipe, trying to keep him away from her.

He groped her even as she struggled. She tried once more to buck him off her, but her body was weakening. Alric managed to grab her wrists and force them away from his neck. No… She could not bear the thought of having his mouth on her, but his face moved inexorably closer. Their harsh breaths mingled.

She had no more strength to fight back. She closed her eyes against the coming onslaught.

Instead, she heard a dull crack. Alric’s dead weight fell against her, squeezing whatever air she had left in her lungs. She opened her eyes in disbelief and saw Osbert silhouetted before her, a heavy tree branch in hand. She shoved Alric off her and got to her feet, unsure of what she should do.

She struggled for breath. “I…thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank your brother,” Osbert said curtly. “Here.” He held out her seax. She snatched it from him and sliced through the ropes shackling her hands and ankles.

Rubbing her wrist, she turned to Osbert, the man who had captured her only to help her escape. She opened her mouth to speak, but he forestalled her.

“Begone with you.”

Without sparing Alric a second glance, she ran.

* * * *

She fell to her knees, her overexerted muscles unable to carry her any longer. Days of not eating well had taken its toll. Each labored breath echoed the pain in her chest, which tightened whenever Alric’s words and actions slithered to the forefront of her mind. Her skin burned where he had dared to put his hands on her. She still felt the press of his beard against her face. She shuddered.

It started to rain, softly at first, saturating her clothes and skin and the woods around her. Isabel pushed wet hair out of her face and took stock of her surroundings. Only a stone’s throw away, a dense tangle of trees would provide better cover. Alric would have men on horseback after her once he recovered. Despite her protesting muscles, she settled herself deep within the copse, doing her best to ignore the way the trickling rain and still-frozen ground stole her remaining warmth.

She gave a small prayer of thanks for the drizzle. It would make tracking her much more difficult, concealing her scent and shrouding her from view. As the stitch in her side lessened, she evaluated the cuts and scratches she had sustained on her flight through the woods. At least she had not turned her ankle on any of the slippery tree roots and stones she had passed over. She could feel the swelling around her right eye and lip where Alric hit her. The rest of her would be covered with bruises, for the tender spots were already making themselves known.

It was not long before she heard the horses crashing through the bracken, sticks snapping with each step, and the men’s shouts as they were forced to cut a path through the woods. Searching for her. Isabel tucked into herself as tightly as she could and covered herself as much as possible with her travel-stained cloak. She held her breath, willing the seconds to slip by, as she heard the horses—many more than she expected—pass her hidden den on either side until they were lost in the night.

Alone once more, she gulped in greedy breaths. What if the men doubled back? She dared not stay in one place for too long. Isabel rose to her feet and fought her way through the brush, searching for a tree to scale so she would not be underfoot if the men came back through. She moved as silently as possible among the branches. A misstep would surely bring them upon her. After she had put a good amount of distance between her and her last hiding spot, she found a tree large enough to hold her.

Peering into the darkness, she strained to hear anything over her clamoring heartbeat. She held still for a long moment, and then relaxed. Still alone.

After hiking up her skirt, she dug her numb fingers into the sodden bark. May she have the strength...

She had barely begun before she started to slide down, her palms tearing to shreds on the rough surface. Gritting her teeth, she adjusted her grip and pulled herself up the rest of the way by sheer force of will, seeking purchase with her booted feet. The effort made her dizzy, and once she made the first limb, could do nothing except breathe in and out, clenching and clasping her sore hands. She needed to get a little bit higher before she would let herself rest.

Climbing was easier now, the branches closer to each other than to the ground. She finally stopped at the apex of two larger limbs where they branched out from the trunk. Without a thought to the decomposing leaves and lichen softening her perch, she closed her eyes and bid her body relax into the rough bark cradling her. She had almost fallen asleep, when a loud snapping shattered the silence.

Isabel started, having forgotten where she was, and fingered the necklace Alex had given her. She smoothed the length of chain as she surveyed the darkness around her. What could have made that sound? Had Alric’s men found her? Yet there was only silence.

Her panicked heartbeat slowed. She knew she should stay alert. In case she needed to find another place to hide. She would only close her eyes for a moment. Just one moment…

* * * *

Isabel hit the ground in a rush, landing on her stomach, unable to breathe.

She had dreamed she heard triumphant shouts. A low-level buzzing had filtered into her consciousness and insisted she wake. At first, she thought she had merely fallen out of the tree in her sleep, too exhausted to keep from slipping from her perch. The rough hands that grabbed and forced her upright told her otherwise.