Wild Is My Love (32 page)

Gavin said, “Do not worry about the tattoo. Perhaps it is good that you removed it. This way no one can see it by accident. When I return home, it can be replaced. Whether I believe as you do or not, I will wear the amulet,” he relented.

“Many things come to me in dreams, Prince Gavin. I saw Alysa far away and in great danger. I saw you in a dark place, but you were not trapped there. I saw you save the life of the man you once viewed as your rival. I saw many fires and much suffering. I saw you and Alysa fleeing the evil of Isobail together; you branded as a wolf-shead and she as a traitor. I saw the death of Prince Alric, and my own.”

“They are but dreams, Giselde; do not fear them.”

Giselde looked into his worried eyes and argued,
“Nay, Hawk of Cumbria, they are warnings. As each one takes place, you will come to trust me more and more. You will beg me to use my powers to aid you, by then other powers will be stronger than mine. Our victory will depend on you, and you will question your instincts, prowess, wits, and skills.”

A strange feeling raced over his flesh, and he did not debate her again. “I sent Keegan with another message. If King Bardwyn and his people can accept my charges against Isobail without physical proof, they should arrive soon and end this conflict. Then I will claim Alysa for my wife.”

“He will believe you when the messages reach him, but all I told you must happen before he arrives. You will see, and believe.”

After leaving Giselde’s hut, Gavin called Alysa’s image to mind. She was not lost to him, and never would be. She knew he loved her and they would be together somehow.

It was after the evening repast when Leitis found a moment to speak privately with Alysa. The head servant hated to impart such dire news, but knew she must. “The herbs you gave me for your father are bad, Alysa— evil, harmful ones,” she said. She did not realize the two pouches Alysa had given her contained different herbs, so she had used some from Giselde’s first bag.

“What do you mean?” Alysa asked incredulously.

“I have given your father nothing but nourishing food for a long time. When you asked me to give Prince Alric the healing herbs, I was afraid to do so without trying them on others first. I did, Alysa. Each one took violently ill within a short time. I burned them afterwards. Beware of the person who tricked you with them,” Leitis warned.

Alarmed, Alysa protested, “That cannot be, Leitis. I
trust the one who gave them to me, trust her with my life.”

“There is no mistake, Alysa. I tested them on several people to make certain I was not wrong before coming to you. All are sick like the prince. I swear it on my life and honor,” she vowed.

The distraught princess knew the woman was telling the truth, and what it meant. “Calm yourself, dear Leitis,” Alysa said. “I believe you. You were right to destroy them. Do as before and give him nothing but good and nourishing food. Tell no one about this trouble. I am sure it is a mistake.”

The moment she was alone, Alysa sank to her bed and cried. She could not forget how eager Giselde had been for her father to get the herbs. On each visit, the woman had asked her about them and Alric’s condition, almost insisting the herbs be used. Alysa’s troubled mind filled with suspicions. She did not believe that Giselde was partnered with Isobail, but she suspected the old woman wanted her father dead. Perhaps Granmannie held Prince Alric responsible for Catriona’s death and for her—Her what? Alysa mused. Banishment? Terrified flight? Perhaps Giselde wanted Alric dead and Alysa to become ruler so Granmannie could return to the life she had once enjoyed here in this castle.

Alysa knew there was no way she could leave the castle walls again today, especially this late in the day. She must not condemn the woman who was so special to her without delving thoroughly into this alarming matter. First, there was the irresistible, mysterious Gavin who tormented her; now, there was her cherished Granmannie. Was this evil invading everyone? Would it eventually consume her too?

So many dead. So many doubts and fears. So much treachery and deceit. The past was clouded. The present
was shadowed. The future looked bleak and dark. If only Baltair would return…

The next morning Isobail summoned Earnon to her chamber. Imperially she gestured him to her side and complained about the defiant bandit chieftain.

“There is but one way to prevent all dissension and defiance,” the learned man advised, wanting to appear to cooperate. “It is a special ritual which grants you total power. The ‘principal man of your blood must die.’ He must be sacrificed on
Lugnassad.”

“Are you mad? Kill my own son, my only son!
Lugnassad
is a Druid belief, a ceremony of the dead on the first of August. What do you know of such forbidden rites?” she demanded.

“I know that only through that ritual can you become all powerful,” Earnon vowed, knowing the date was over a month away and Isobail would never kill Moran. “You can understand why I have never mentioned it before. If it is done properly, nothing could ever harm you and no one could disobey you. You would control everyone’s will.”

Earnon could not believe Isobail’s next question, and it panicked him. “What do you mean by ‘done properly’?”

The alchemist thought quickly and replied, “His heart must be carved from his body while he still lives, then you must consume it while it is still warm and beating. Which only lasts a few minutes.”

She scoffed, “No one could do such a horrid thing!”

“That is why there has never been an all powerful ruler.”

Isobail quickly changed the subject. “What of Baltair? I want him dead this week, the moment he returns and I have sent for him. I’ll rely on you to handle it.”

Earnon knew he would lose Kyra to Calum after Baltair
was dead. He had no choice. He must comply, then wait to be reunited with his love soon, as they had planned. “This week is perfect. I was to tell you when you returned, but things distracted us.”

“Yes,” she murmured, “perfect…”

Near the stables Alysa listened to the men’s disheartening tales about the new band of raiders terrorizing the area, led by a masked man on a golden charger with blond mane and tail. She could not believe they were talking about Gavin. Why would he go so far to dupe the real brigands? But Giselde had told her she could trust Gavin! Things were not going right. She had to see Gavin and Giselde.

The gates were locked and guarded today. Under Isobail’s strict orders, no one was to leave the castle without her permission. Nothing Alysa said convinced Isobail to allow her to go riding, and Alysa realized she could not press Isobail without arousing her suspicions. When her stepmother suggested “tomorrow,” Alysa could only smile and agree.

Kyra’s betrothal to Sir Calum was announced Tuesday morning and the banns sent to all large villages to be posted. Kyra played her part well, convincing everyone she was in love with Calum and eager to marry him. As plotted, many overheard the girl begging her mother to allow them to wed within the next week or two. Finally Princess Isobail relented and sent for Sir Calum, who could arrive by Saturday for the wedding to be held on Sunday.

Work began immediately on Kyra’s special dress and other additions to her wardrobe. Servants were set to cleaning the castle from top to bottom and the wards from end to end. Plans were made for meals and the wedding feast. Invitations to guests were sent by messengers, and arrangements for their accommodations were discussed. Nearly everyone in and around the castle was involved with the impending event.

Alysa hoped she could get away during the commotion; not just away from the castle for a ride, but away to her grandfather for help. She believed she had allowed her imagination to run wild too long. Now she
must
act, wisely and bravely. She had to stop depending on others to solve her problems, especially when she did not know whom to trust anymore. There was too
much mystery surrounding Gavin, and Giselde had often seemed unsympathetic to her father’s plight. At times she even had the impression that the two were partnered in some curious way, and that added to her distrust.

She recalled, for instance, too many inexplicable clues: Giselde had warned her not to help, hinder, endanger, or question Gavin, and to remain at home. Was there some reason why Granmannie wanted to keep her away from her love? Worse, Alysa felt so confused about people’s loyalties that she wondered if she had exposed Gavin to danger by enlightening Giselde about him.

Distraught, she secretly packed a change of clothes and a few supplies. From the kitchen and pantry she sneaked a water pouch, which could be filled along the road later, fruit, cheese, and a bag of bannocks—flat cakes made of barley and oats. She stuffed everything into a bag, including a sharp dagger, then slipped to the stable to hide them in Calliope’s saddle pouches. Everything was ready.

The moment for her escape came late that afternoon. From her window she saw carts preparing to leave for the village to collect supplies for the castle and the wedding. She hurried out and asked Isobail if she could accompany the servants and guards. Preoccupied, Isobail promptly relented. Alysa rushed to the stable, saddled her beloved horse, and left.

In the village the soldiers entered a local pub while the servants gathered provisions. Everyone thought Alysa was visiting friends while they carried out their tasks, so she easily slipped away without being seen. She galloped northeast, planning to reach the coast and ride along the shoreline through Logris and into Cambria. Once inside her grandfather’s border, she would find someone to take her to him.

An hour later Alysa was surrounded by a large band of unkempt bandits. No path or time for escape was
left open to her. Petrified, she stared at their leader who was approaching her from the wide circle of attentive men with hungry faces. She was reminded of the legend of Bran, who found himself surrounded by drooling wolves, but he unsheathed his enchanted sword and slew them. She eyed the leering, intimidating bandit who called himself Skane.

“I know who you are, my pretty wench,” Alysa’s captor teased in a way that alarmed her further. When he lifted a heavy lock of hair she slapped his hand and glared at him, causing him to chuckle loudly.

He yelled to his followers, who held back at a distance to observe the entertaining confrontation, “A woman with real spirit and courage! She will make a good wife and slave for our friend Hengist, a tasty morsel to tame and enjoy!” He made noises in his throat which implied lustful hunger, then licked his lips suggestively. Leaning toward Alysa, he murmured, “Hengist will pay a fortune to purchase the last Viking queen.”

Leaning so close, Alysa smelled his foul breath and odorous body. She suppressed the urge to vomit by swallowing rapidly, since she wanted to reveal no weakness before this dangerous man. Baltair had been right, she thought: the Vikings were a real threat to her. His next words stunned and distressed her.

“Our leader will not be happy with me for stealing you, little flower; she has picked you to become the wife of her unlucky son. She warned me to leave you alone, but how can I refuse when you fall into my lap? Besides, you will vanish before she learns I am to blame.” To his men he shouted, “Where is Gavin Hawk? This is his task.”

His task?
Again a veil of mystery shrouded the handsome warrior. Alysa hoped her astonishment did not show, because it would look suspicious for her to respond to Gavin Hawk’s name. Her love was supposed to work with the brigands and unmask them, but she
had not expected to hear his name in this manner. Again she wondered if she could trust him.

When the men shrugged ignorance, Skane said, “I cannot wait to find him. I must send her to Hengist myself.” The leader chose three men to deliver Alysa to the Jute chieftain who lived in a stronghold that had been carved from Logris’s belly. He ordered, “Tell Hengist to get the money together and we will come for our reward soon. If he refuses to pay heavily for her but keeps her, tell him I will reveal her captor and location to the rulers of Damnonia, Cambria, and Logris. He will not want to provoke them.”

Frantic, Alysa screamed at him, “I have heard that Hengist already has a wife! Why not ransom me to my father? Or to King Vortigern?”

Skane laughed and replied, “Vikings take more than one wife if it suits them, and you will more than suit him. One look at you, pretty wench, and no doubt Hengist will toss out all other women in his bed. As for your father, he could never match the Jute’s reward for you, if he could even crawl out of bed to offer one.”

“But what of King Vortigern?”

“Vortigern has made enough mistakes without getting entangled with the sale of Damnonia’s heir,” Skane retorted, his words telling Alysa that the King of Logris was not involved with the brigands. “Nay, pretty wench, you are a feast made for Hengist’s table and lips.”

The band howled and laughed, agreeing with their vulgar leader. Skane shouted, “Boast of this deed to no one, then we can keep the whole reward to split amongst ourselves.”

Despite the fading light, Alysa noticed a few quickly concealed looks that implied tightly leashed dissension. Obviously this was not the entire band, and their leader was suggesting disloyalty to the others. She was relieved when Skane ordered his three men to keep her safe and not “touch a single hair on her bonny head.” He
crudely declared that if she were not “pure of body on delivery,” Hengist might reject her and come after them.

In the rapidly approaching twilight, Alysa, bound and gagged, was led away by three men while Skane and his remaining band rode off to drink, whore, and revel in the nearby villages.

By this time Alysa had been missed and a search was on for her. Word had been sent to the castle, and Isobail had nearly panicked. She had ordered every available man to look for the princess.

Isobail did not know Alysa had run away from the castle with clothes and supplies, and she suspected that Skane was behind Alysa’s disappearance. Isobail would speak to him about it at their scheduled meeting that night. She and Moran had Alysa ensnared, so she was not going to give up the girl easily.

Gavin invited Sheriff Trahern to join him at his table in the tavern. A familiar face in the region by now, no one—except the women—paid much attention to the adventurer who claimed to be merely passing through. No one seemed to realize that Damnonia, almost encircled by water, was not a land to be “passed through” casually.

Trahern whispered, “There is big trouble, Hawk. We need to speak privately. Wait a few minutes, then join me at the edge of the village.” The sheriff finished his drink, thanked Gavin for standing the round, and departed.

Gavin lingered a while, then followed. He met Trahern and they rode a short distance away. “We believe Skane has betrayed us, and we need your help,” Trahern explained, then told Gavin about the afternoon’s
events and the chieftains prior words about Alysa. “We want you to find her and return her. Then kill him.”

Within an hour Gavin located one of the disgruntled brigands and enticed the drinking man to disclose the incident and Alysa’s whereabouts. At his camp, as Gavin prepared to go after her, he told his men to stay away from the brigands so they would not suspect he was missing. Then he rushed to Giselde and revealed the bad news, explaining that he was heading to rescue Alysa.

“Wait!” the old woman shouted.

“What is it, Giselde? Time is precious.”

“Before you find her and speak with her, there are other things you must know.” She revealed everything to the shocked man, including the truth about Moran’s parentage. “This is why I must keep silent, and you must too.”

“You warned me of Alysa’s capture, and that has come to pass,” Gavin said. “The more I learn about you and Isobail, the more I believe she might have murdered your daughter. Do not worry, my dear Giselde, I will never tell Alysa about Moran.”

“Then tell her nothing now, Gavin, or she will suspect you lie or keep things from her,” she warned. “She is clever and persuasive.”

Gavin promised, “When I find her, which I will, I will tell her only that I love her.”

After hours of riding, the three brigands escorting Alysa stopped to rest and water their horses. Then the hard journey began once more, with no further rest until dawn. They slept only a few hours before the journey was under way again.

As the day slipped beyond noon, Alysa realized how
much distance was being placed between her and her home, her father, and Gavin. She had been allowed little privacy, and she despised these men more and more with each mile traveled. There had been no way to reason with them, to evoke treachery against their leader, leave a trail, or escape. She questioned her fate, the powers of Good, and her strength to endure whatever lay before her until she could slip away.

In the royal forest near Malvern Castle Princess Kyra Ahern made her way to “the witch’s hut.” She had learned enough from Earnon to know which herbs she needed for her purposes, but she dared not steal them from her lover. She was delighted when she found the old woman was not at home. She quickly collected the things she wanted and placed them inside a leather pouch.

Before Kyra could leave, Giselde returned with a basket of plants, saw her and asked in her feigned tongue, “What be ye doin’ ‘ere?”

“I needed certain herbs, old woman. You were not home and I was in a hurry, so I gathered them. Here,” she said, offering Giselde a jeweled bracelet, “this should be enough payment.”

Giselde eyed the collection and realized the girl had learned much, no doubt from Earnon. Having heard about Kyra’s betrothal, she wondered why the girl needed such dangerous items. “Hae ye become ae witch?” Giselde inquired, pointing to the pouch.

“I have been studying under a powerful sorcerer,” Kyra admitted.

“Why do ye not ask him for supplies?”

“Ask no questions, old witch, just take the payment,” Kyra shouted.

“Nay!” Giselde shouted back. “Tis not enough, an’ they be bad! Why need ye them?” she demanded.

“Out of my way, old woman!” Kyra warned, narrowing her eyes. “Do you want me to sic my mother’s dogs on you?”

“Do so after ye tell ‘er why ye want me dead!”

Kyra frowned. “You have been paid, witch. Out of my way.”

“Ye canna leave ‘ere wif me special potions an’ herbs! They be mine! Tell me why ye need them! If ye reason be good—”

“It is private, stupid beast!” Kyra screamed, and glanced about for a weapon. She seized a heavy clay pot, and before the old woman could react, smashed it forcefully over Giselde’s head. The old woman was knocked to the floor, and blood oozed from a deep gash. Kyra noticed no breathing, and was satisfied that the old woman was dead. Smiling, she gathered more herbs. While ransacking the hut, she noticed Giselde’s locked chest. Yanking the key from the woman’s neck, Kyra opened it and searched it. Finding the jewels that she and others had used as payment to the old woman, the avaricious girl stole them and left.

Alysa stared into the camp fire. On this second night alone with the brigands, she was cold and afraid. The men were drinking heavily, joking crudely and glancing at her in a frightening manner. If only they would untie her… She was startled when another man entered camp: Gavin Hawk! She listened to him explain that Skane had sent him to make certain the girl reached her destination safely, and heard him joke about how tempting she was. He glanced at Alysa and grinned, passing his tongue over his lips suggestively. She did not know if she wanted to scream, cry, or faint.

The men were lulled by Gavin’s behavior into settling back, drinking, and talking. Suddenly Gavin attacked,
punching the man sitting on the log next to him, whirling and kicking another in the gut, then flinging his blade into the chest of the third man with a gracefully sweeping motion. The man he had punched sat up, ready to fight, but Gavin forcefully elbowed him in the nose. Then drawing his sword, he plunged it into the man he had struck in the midriff.

Alysa watched Gavin check each man for life, finding none. She could not believe how quickly and expertly he had slain all three. He crossed to her and cut her free. She removed her gag and stared at him in confusion, remaining still.

“I wish I could have signaled you not to be afraid, but they might have seen me. I had to pretend until I had them fooled, and until they drank enough to even the odds,” he teased. “Come, m’love, before others arrive,” he coaxed, offering his hand. “If they discover they have captured Thisbe instead of Princess Alysa, they will be angry with both of us. When I heard of this deed last night, I came after you as quickly as possible. Did they harm you?” he asked, wishing he did not have to deceive her.

“I am fine, Gavin,” she replied. “How did you find me?”

“Since my return I have been riding with them to unmask their leader and to obtain evidence against Isobail. Many of the bandits are disenchanted with Skane and impressed with me, so I was told of your capture. I followed you as quickly as possible.”