By Queen's Grace. Shari Anton

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СКАЧАТЬ Thump.

      “Have a care with those stones, Duncan,” Oswuld said. “If you hurt her.”

      “I will not hurt the lady. Unless, of course, she makes me crawl through those brambles to drag her out of that log. What say you, Princess? Do you come out or must I come in?”

      Whether they were sure of where she hid or not, they wouldn’t leave without checking, and she’d be found. Judith sighed.

       Thump. Thump.

      Judith swatted at several, agitated bugs. “Stop that!” she shouted, and crawled out of the log. She stopped short of wading through the brambles as she faced her tormentors.

      The ruffian with the smug grin on his face had to be Duncan. He tossed several stones on the ground and dusted off his hands. The other, a lad barely grown into his beard, must be Oswuld. Oswuld looked malleable, Duncan no less than stubborn, but she wouldn’t know until she tried.

      “Could we come to a bargain?” she asked.

      Both men caught her meaning and shook their heads. She tried again.

      “You know who I am, so you must know that my uncle Alexander and aunt Matilda have the wealth of entire kingdoms at their disposal. Return me to the safety of the abbey and I will see you are both richly rewarded.”

      Oddly enough, ‘twas Duncan who seemed to consider her offer. Oswuld didn’t.

      “We have our duty, my lady,” the younger man said. “Besides, wealth would do neither Duncan nor me any good if my father hunted us down and carved out our hearts, now, would it?”

      “Your father?”

      “Thurkill, the man whose horse you pushed out of your way. He will not forgive you that for a long while, I wager.”

      Judith didn’t care if Thurkill ever forgave her, and didn’t plan to be in his company long enough to find out. Somehow, she must convince these two men to let her go, or escape them once more. Judith plowed through the brambles, this time feeling every prick and scrape. The men moved forward as she came out of the patch, one on each side of her.

      “What you do is unlawful,” she said.

      “And for the greater good of England,” Duncan stated with a gleam of righteousness in his eyes. He grabbed her elbow and steered her back toward the road.

      She jerked away. “I fail to understand how abducting me can possibly benefit the kingdom!”

      “Well, you see, my lady, we-”

      Oswuld interrupted, warning, “Duncan, that is a tale for my father to tell.”

      Duncan took the rebuke with little grace, but said no more.

      During the long walk back to the road, Judith looked for opportunities to escape. But with both men so close, she didn’t find one.

      Thurkill waited where she’d left him, as did everyone else. The nuns still huddled together, unharmed.

      “Took you long enough,” Thurkill complained.

      Oswuld smiled. “She is a smart one, Father. Nearly gave us the slip, she did.”

      Mercy, Oswuld sounded proud of her!

      Duncan nodded in agreement, then grumbled, “Aye, she did. Has a mouth on her, too.”

      Judith bristled, but kept her mouth closed.

      “She can complain all she wishes and it will not change a thing. Let us be off,” Thurkill said.

      The dread returned, with full and shattering force. These men were truly about to take her away. She’d wanted to leave behind the bleakness of the abbey, but not as someone’s prisoner.

      “I beg you to reconsider, Thurkill,” she said, her voice shaking, tears far too close to the surface. “Have you no mercy in your heart?”

      “None. Hand her up.”

      Thurkill reached out a hand. Duncan and Oswuld grabbed her arms.

      Judith screamed.

      

      The woman’s first scream rang with anger, the second revealed her fear.

      Or so Corwin judged from the distant sounds-too far away to be sure and too close to ignore.

      He reined in his horse and signaled the company behind him to halt. Sitting quietly, resting his gauntlet-covered hands on his thighs, he tilted his head to listen. No more screams-only the rustling of a summer breeze through the surrounding woodland and the shuffling of soldiers’ feet on the dusty road.

      William rode up beside him, with his sword already drawn. “Trouble ahead?”

      “I hope not,” Corwin answered, but he wouldn’t be amazed if he found trouble, or at the least suffered another delay. The journey from Wilmont to Cotswold should have taken a sennight to complete, but had now dragged out to nearly a fortnight. A broken wagon axle. A horse gone lame. A nasty illness bringing most of the men low for days. The weather. All had conspired against him.

      At least he’d been able to find a highly skilled carpenter in Romsey who, along with his assistants, now walked at the end of the entourage. The man could do with wood what a sculptor could do with clay or stone. Gerard was sure to be pleased with the man’s work.

      Now, so near to Romsey Abbey, another delay loomed.

      He must investigate, of course, not so much to aid a woman in trouble as to ensure no harm threatened the company of men and wagons in his charge.

      Corwin turned in the saddle and called to Geoffrey, “William and I will go ahead and see what is happening. Keep the company here until we return.”

      Geoffrey nodded.

      Corwin nudged his horse up the road, setting a cautious pace, hoping that whatever situation lay ahead could be resolved quickly. He wanted to deliver his sister’s letter to Romsey Abbey, then be off to Cotswold. If he pushed the company, he could reach the manor by nightfall.

      He crested the hill to see a group of five nuns. One of them, the shortest, seemed to be sobbing into her hands. The others hovered over her as if comforting her.

      William sighed. “Only nuns,” he said, sheathing his sword.

      “Aye, nuns,” Corwin echoed.

      To his chagrin, he wondered if one of the taller blackrobed women might be Judith. Likely not, because all of them wore veils, and unless her circumstances had changed drastically, Judith wouldn’t be veiled.

      He’d thought of Judith too many times over the past few days, probably because of the letter he carried tucked securely between his chain mail and the padded gambeson beneath. Often, he’d envisioned her as the heart-faced, sweet-voiced maiden who’d been so kind to Ardith, whose dove-gray eyes had sparkled with interest in him. Then he would recall their last encounter-Judith’s СКАЧАТЬ