Wildewood Revenge (9 page)

“Beg pardon, my lady,” Edmund mumbled, forlornly.

“I distracted you, Edmund,” Grace offered with a smile. He’d also provided her with some interesting snippets about her captor...ammunition should she care to use it.

Edmund scanned the horizon and Grace wondered at the anxiety on his face, perhaps he was worried at Miles’ reaction. More likely she realised, as she followed his gaze, he felt vulnerable in the desolation of the moor. Miles was still some way off and although she didn’t know why, she understood from the boy’s attitude that it was not safe to linger.

“What’s wrong, Edmund?” she asked.

Edmund turned back and pulled his own cloak tightly around his thin frame. “
Yer
should take heed of Sir Miles, my lady. He only means to keep
yer
safe. If he warns of danger, then I reckon there
be
danger
lurkin
’.”

“Are you not a local,
Edmund?”
asked
Grace.

“No, my lady, I was born in Lincoln,
me
father
bein
’ a mason
workin
’ on the great cathedral. He took a tumble from yon scaffolding and met his maker, God rest his soul. I left with Sir Guy shortly after.”

Poor child
,
thought Grace, “Are you happy now, here with Miles? Does he look after you well?” she asked.

His anxious expression was instantly replaced by an infectious grin. “Oh yes, my lady, and I been
hearin
’ great tales of
Wildewood
. It stands on a crag at the centre of a huge forest full of wild creatures. When
yer
stand at the top of the tower
yer
can see Scotland and all them heathens what be
livin
’ yonder. There be deer and wild boar a plenty, herds of hill cattle and flocks of hardy sheep. Miles said, when he were a boy same as me, he would help with the sheep and his mother would nurse yon
orphan lambs in a basket alongside the fire. Can ye imagine that, a fine lady helping with the beasts? I reckon
Wildewood
be a magical place, protected by woodland folk, wild beasts and suchlike. We will all be safe there.”

“Safe from whom?”

“From our enemies,” whispered Edmund.

*  *  *

Heartily sick of the weather, the mind numbing cold and yet another delay, Miles turned his horse and retraced his steps. He slipped from his mount, smoothed his hands down the pony’s foreleg and then stood back and ran his fingers through his damp hair. The pony was lame and would have to be led. He glared at the girl suspiciously, more devilment no doubt. He was beginning to favour the witch theory. It was edging ahead of both nun and spy. His eyes fell automatically to the red wheals still evident on her exposed neck and he wondered again, at his decision to bring her along. The ransom would be no good to any man, if in the meantime she hexed everything he owned.

He turned back to the pony with a muttered curse. Typical of his luck, they were almost home and now obliged to walk the horses. He should’ve kept the girl with him and suffered her tongue. He doubted she’d have the will for trickery with his hands tight around her and a knife between her ribs. He felt her gaze upon him and shrugged it off belligerently. There would be time for reckoning later.

“What shall we do, my lord?” asked Edmund.

“Walk, Edmund, t
hat is what we shall do,” replied Miles shortly. Edmund nodded and shrugged apologetically at Grace.

“Perhaps they can help us?” said Grace and Miles followed her gaze to the far distance where the snowline was broken by a dark body of men approaching at speed on horseback. Miles pulled Grace roughly towards him placing her between himself and his horse. This was not good; it would not do to be caught out in the open by armed men. His own position was perilous to say the least and now he had the added complication of his travelling companion. If this were the sheriff and his men, then his chances of collecting any form of ransom were diminishing rapidly. He turned back to Grace, narrowed his eyes and scrutinised her expression, was this more trickery? Seeing nothing but bewilderment he raised the hood of her cloak to shield her face and pulled the flaps together tightly to cover her unusual garb.

“Stay close to me, do not say anything. Remember
,
if you will, who has tended you these past days, Mademoiselle, should this be the sheriff come to seek you.”

“If that’s the sheriff then maybe I’ll ask for his help. P
erhaps he will take me home,” Grace replied defiantly.

“Enough!” hissed Miles, “This is neither the time nor the place; if you value your life you will say nothing.” Her eyes widened and she snapped her mouth shut. He prayed she would keep it that way, for all their sakes
.

Chapter Ten

“Good day
,
travellers,” called the leader as he drew his band of men to a shuddering halt, mere feet away from Miles. His horse danced nervously. The sweat on its flanks spoke of a long, hard ride. The massive beasts milled about pawing the ground with their hooves, froth spraying from their open mouths as they shook their heads and fought the bit.

Miles stood his ground, hackles rising as he eyed the man who leered at him from atop the nightmarish beast. Grace opened her mouth to announce herself, he caught the movement out of the corner of his eye, but before he could take action to prevent it, the horses wheeled about and the two at the rear almost knocked her from his grasp.

The shock of the near-miss with the horses was nothing however compared to her reaction when she caught sight of the bodies slung across their backs. Men crudely bound with rough rope, their swollen tongues protruding hideously from their mouths. Eyes stared blankly from ashen faces and blood still oozed from their slit throats. She closed her mouth with a snap, and backed straight into his arms. He held her steady, absorbed her shock and turned back to the sheriff.

“Good day to you, sheriff,” he replied as he edged back a little. The man encroached upon their space and Miles did not appreciate it. He was at a disadvantage stood as he was while the sheriff was mounted. He would stand a poor chance of defence from the sheriff’s sword should he choose to wield it, while he had Grace attached to him like a lim
pet.  “You have travelled far. What brings you to this God-
forsaken place?”

The sheriff circled the group as he attempted to satisfy his curiosity.
“I am in search of law
breakers. H
ave you had sight of any Scotsmen on your journey?”

Miles shook his head, glanced at the bodies and his stomach clenched. He tightened his grip on Grace and willed her to be silent. They were after Scots rustlers not missing nuns, and the Scots could look after themselves, and yet, the man seemed determined in his efforts to get a look at Grace.

“You should not linger here, Sir, it is not safe.” The sheriff yanked viciously at the reins and the horse fought the bit angrily, wheeling ever closer.
“There are villains abroad
and another storm is brewing. Where are you and your good lady headed?” He leaned down from the saddle for a closer look.

Grace balked at the sight of his florid, pockmarked features, the spittle spraying liberally from between flaccid jowls and broken black teeth. Miles felt her fear. He contained the quivers which shook her slight frame, within his embrace.

“We look for somewhere to break our journey,” said Miles, he did not care to mention
Wildewood
. “The lady is unwell and the pony is lame.” He tightened his arm around Grace’s shoulders and prayed she would not betray him. To his surprise and relief she executed a perfect swoon and buried her face in his chest with a dramatic gasp. “We must seek shelter,” he added and he turned and lifted Grace onto the back of his horse. “If you will excuse us
,
we will take our leave.” He swung up behind her and taking the pony’s reins from Edmund he gestured at him to follow on foot.

“But surely you do not expect that I would leave you out here at the mercy of the weather and the lawless. No
,
Sir...” said the
sheriff with a glint in his eye, “m
y men and I will escort you and y
our good lady to
The
Wedder
Inn.
William Craig will have room, no doubt.”

He called to one of his men to make room for the boy on the back of his horse and Edmund glanced quickly at Miles. Miles gave the slightest incline of his head. By necessity they were obliged to accept the sheriff’s offer.

“What’s happening?” whispered Grace. “Where are we going now?” She clutched the front of the saddle and for once did not resist as he tightened his grip around her waist. He turned the horse away from the sheriff and scanned the accompanying men quickly. Too many to fight and he had not the horse power to flee. He swallowed his unease, unwilling to reveal just how rattled he was.

“A slight diversion, Mademoiselle, I must ask that you continue this charade,” he breathed hoarsely against her ear. “I do not trust the sheriff. We must ensure we do not give him cause to question our account.”

“But...but isn’t he the law?” Confusion and fear caused her words to stutter. “Shouldn’t he be helping us?”

Miles laughed humourlessly. “He acts on behalf of the king bu
t is in the pay of the barons. H
e upholds his own laws, those that bring the greatest reward.”

“You know him?” She sounded appalled and Miles winced. He knew far greater monsters than this and recalled occasions when he’d behaved almost as badly.

“I know the likes of him but I do not know this man personally, and that is in our favour.”

“Why?”

Miles smiled sourly “Because he is a collector of bodies and I have no desire to add to his collection.”

Miles had little inclination to visit The
Wedder
Inn either. It would
take them in the opposite direction from
Wildewood
and they were frustratingly close. However, he would rather that, than have the sheriff follow him home. He
did not need the man’s attention
and didn’t enjoy the man’s obvious interest in Grace.

He was equally puzzled by the sheriff’s lack of interest or knowledge in the missing nun from Kirk
Knowe
. He’d expected to be questioned and been prepared to feign ignorance. Perhaps the alarm was yet to be raised although that seemed unlikely. They must have missed her by now. He needed to keep her close, particularly at the inn; if they were separated he was unsure what she would do. He’d a lot to lose if she betrayed him, not least the ransom.

The sheriff rode frustratingly close, slowing his horse to keep pace with Miles. “Your good lady is very quiet,” he stated slyly. “Is all well?”

“It will be wh
en we are able to rest, sheriff. I fear we slow you down.
P
please
feel
free to continue your manhunt. W
e will find the inn ourselves.” Miles wanted rid of the man but realised that would not be easy.

“I would not hear of it, Sir,” replied the sheriff. He smirked and Miles held his gaze coolly. Something was afoot but caught up as he was with the mystery of the girl’s identity he couldn’t decide whether the interest of the odious sheriff was mere coincidence or more likely connected. He was certain of one thing. He couldn’t afford to let Grace out of his sight at the inn. If the sheriff were to catch her on her own he would be unable to guarantee her story or her safety.

A shout came then from one of the men who stood in his stirrups and pointed north where the moor rose again. Riders could be seen in the far distance heading away from them. The remaining Scots raiding party no doubt and the sheriff glanced quickly from the Scots quarry to Grace,
shrouded beneath her cloak, sheltered against Miles chest. His face was a torment of indecision and intrigue and it gave Miles a measure of power to know that the man’s greed would naturally have him follow the bounty hanging on each Scottish head.

“If you are sure you do not need our escort then we will resume our chase,” said the sheriff. “Perhaps we will meet at the inn?” He studied Miles for a moment, as if about to make further comment. Then he hauled the horse around with a cruel hand and headed north. He had Scots to kill.

Edmund was dumped unceremoniously onto the snowy ground, and with a curt nod, the hunting party were off at a gallop. Miles watched them go, waited until they were out of sight then dismounted and hoisted Edmund up in front of Grace. He passed the reins of his horse to Edmund, gathered up the reins of the pony and headed for
Wildewood
. When they reached the point where they had first encountered the sheriff he stopped and gestured for Edmund to dismount, he had walked far enough. It was time for the boy to stretch his legs.

“We will ride
ahead,
you will
follow on foot with the pony. S
he must be allowed to take her time or the lameness will be prolonged.” Edmund nodded, his disappointment at being left behind, and his anxiety regarding the sheriff, clearly evident in his pinched face.