By Queen's Grace. Shari Anton

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      The crystal blue sky and early summer sun had called hard to Judith. Tagging along on an outing to gather medicinal plants, to escape the abbey’s gloom for a morning, had seemed such a good idea. Until now.

      Judith held back a strong curse directed both at the ruffian intent on kidnapping her and at herself for putting a group of innocent nuns in danger. If she’d remained in her cell, patiently waiting for an answer from Matilda, she wouldn’t now be in this dire fix.

      From atop his horse, an older man-obviously the leader-stretched out his hand toward her. “You have naught to fear, Lady Judith, if you will just come quiet like,” he said.

      Judith glared at the man, who shifted in his saddle, fully expecting her to relent. He appeared to be about her father’s age, slightly grayed and life worn, sporting a full, shaggy beard. A warrior still, by the hard-muscled look of him. A Saxon, by the sound of him.

      Several paces down the road, two young men, also mounted on fine steeds, held Sister Mary Margaret and four other nuns-who huddled together and prayed for deliverance-at bay.

      If she fought, if she ran, would the ruffians harm her companions? Judith didn’t think so. The men risked forfeiting their immortal souls if they harmed the nuns. Besides, ‘twas she the brigands had come for. They’d singled her out, knowing her identity.

      Sweet heaven, she’d been foolish to put herself at risk. She’d been warned of the dangers a royal heiress faced from those who would use her for their own gain. But she’d been outside of the abbey walls many times over the past years and nothing untoward had ever happened.

      “What do you want of me?” she asked, her voice amazingly steady considering how her hands shook, hidden within the sleeves of her robe.

      To her surprise the ruffian smiled at her. Almost tenderly.

      “You have a destiny to fulfill, lass,” he said. “We have not the time for explanations, but know that you will want for no comfort or proper deference.”

      Judith summoned every ounce of royal blood in her veins and tilted her chin higher. “‘Tis a strange deference you show me, brigand. If you truly wish to give me my due, be gone!”

      His smile disappeared. “I cannot, my lady. I have my orders. ‘Tis for you to decide to come quietly or by force.”

      “By whose orders?”

      “My lord’s, soon to be yours, too.” He stretched out a hand. “Come, my lady. We must be off.”

      So, some noble thought to force her into marriage to raise his standing at court, did he? ‘Twas not an unheard-of practice. Judith had just never thought it could happen to her. Still wouldn’t happen, if she could help it.

      She slid her hands from her sleeves. “You may tell yourlord to go straight to hell!”

      She rushed the horse, slapping it hard on the rump. The brigand swore as his mount reared, but Judith didn’t stop to admire her handiwork. Skirts hiked nearly to her knees, she bolted into the woods.

      “Oswuld! Duncan! Catch her!” the man called out.

      She didn’t give a thought to being quiet about her flight, just to putting distance between herself and the ruffians. Twigs snapped beneath her booted feet. Tree limbs reached out to tear her black robe. Still she ran, leaping over logs and winding among the trees, in a headlong rush for a spot where she knew she could hide in thick underbrush.

      If she lost her pursuers, she could later regain the road and make a dash for the safe haven of the abbey, the same abbey she’d been thinking of as a prison for so many weeks now. Amazing how one’s view of the world could change so quickly.

      Judith gave a brief thought to her companions and prayed that they would remain safe. She would have the ruffian leader’s head on a pike, hoisted high over the abbey’s door, if he harmed one hair on Sister Mary Margaret’s head.

      Over the noise of her panting she could now hear the two men who gave chase. They shouted back and forth at each other, directing the search. One even had the gall to call out to her, suggesting she be sensible and halt ner foolish flight. She couldn’t hope to escape them, he taunted.

      Despite the ache in her chest and the pain in her legs, Judith quickened her pace. She ducked under a stout oak branch and headed down the steep hill beyond. She fell at the bottom and landed hard on the forest floor.

      “I see her, Duncan! This way!”

      Judith scrambled to her feet. She didn’t look back. If she could make it over the next hill, she would be safe.

      “To your left, Oswuld! Keep on her heels!”

      Up she ran, slipping on the long grass, her entire being focused on the top of the rise. Sheer force of will got her over. Only a few yards off stood her refuge-a fallen oak, nearly hollow, smothered by vines and guarded by brambles. Quickly, ignoring scrapes and pricks, Judith crawled into the sanctuary of the oak and curled up as small as she could.

      She buried her face in her robe to muffle her panting. Mercy, she hadn’t run so hard since her early youth. She longed to draw a deep, refreshing breath, but didn’t dare. From the rustling sounds, she could tell that the men had reached the top of the rise.

      They came to a halt. Judith could almost feel their searching eyes pass over her hiding place, looking for some sign of her.

      “Duncan?”

      Silence stretched into eternity.

      “This way, I think,” he finally answered. “Aye, look here, a piece of her robe.”

      Judith closed her eyes and silently cursed.

      The men resumed the chase, thundering past her hiding place in the direction they thought she’d run.

      Acute relief trembled through her limbs. She’d done it. She was safe. Her heart still pounded, but it would calm. The fear she’d masked with anger began to abate.

      The men would search for a while yet, but unable to find her, would return to their leader and report failure. By then, she’d be well on her way to the abbey. Until she was sure the men were gone, however, she would remain where she was, shooing away the bugs that made the rotted log their home, picking at the burrs that clung to her torn robe.

      She wrinkled her nose against the stench of her nest. She could bear it, having no choice.

      Abbess Christina was going to have a fit. Over the torn robe. Over her leaving the abbey without permission and then wandering so far away. Punishment, this time, would involve far harsher measures than scrubbing pots. But for all the abbess would bluster, she would also know how to proceed. These ruffians must be caught and dealt with before they could do further mischief.

      Judith jumped when a thump reverberated through the log, as though something had hit it. A squirrel? Rabbit? An animal with sharper teeth?

      “You might as well come out, my lady,” said a voice she now recognized as Duncan’s. “I would as soon not come in to drag you out.”

      Nay! This couldn’t be! How had they found her? Why hadn’t she heard them circle back? None of the answers mattered, СКАЧАТЬ