Knight's Rebellion. Suzanne Barclay

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СКАЧАТЬ word had come from London.

      “Then we must look to ourselves and take back that which Ranulf has stolen from all of us,” Darcy said firmly.

      “Aye, we must.” And God save us all. “I will ride back along the line and see how the men fare,” Gowain said, as much because it was his way to check on things himself as because he was restless with the dozens of worries that beset him.

      The pair who rode directly behind him were seasoned veterans who’d followed him from France. Despite long hours in the saddle, Robert Lakely and Jean de Braise sat tall and alert, ready to spring into action at any sign of trouble. Seeing Gowain change direction, they moved to accompany him.

      “Keep your places,” Gowain said. “I’ll be right back.”

      “I’d go with you, just in case there is trouble,” said Jean, older than Lakely and prone to pessimism.

      “I’d have you here, for that reason,” Gowain replied and headed down the column. He nodded to the men he passed, noting keenly the condition of each. His soldiers had borne the brunt of both the attack on the wagons and the skirmish with Ranulf’s men, yet the farmers and tradesmen turned warrior looked the most haggard. A few sported red splotches on their rough tunics.

      Arthur Jenkins was by far the worst, bent over and wavering slightly in his saddle. “Not far, now, Arthur,” he called. “Can you make it, or would you ride in the wagon?”

      “Nay. I think my arm’s broke, and the wagon’d jostle it worse than my horse does,” he said through lips gone white.

      Gowain’s jaw tightened with suppressed fury…against Ranulf, King Richard and even God. These good people did not deserve the suffering that life had thrust upon them. Damn, but he wished he could find a way to take Malpas without their help.

      When he came abreast of the middle wagon driven by Henry Denys, Gowain turned to ride with it. “How goes it?”

      Henry shrugged and jerked his head toward the back of the wagon. “Better ask my brother. I’ve been that busy trying to avoid the worst of the ruts.”

      Ralph Denys sat in the back of the wagon, arms folded over his chest, dour gaze fixed on the nun ministering to her patients. “Nobody’s died…yet,” he muttered.

      A sigh of relief hissed through Gowain’s teeth, and he moved a bit closer. “Sister, you have saved—”

      “No thanks to you.” Her eyes were not soft or gentle, now, but blazed like hot coals in her ashen face.

      Gowain drew back, the praise he’d been about to offer catching in his throat. “I do not answer to you.”

      “And you can be grateful for that. If you were my father’s man, he’d whip you raw for such callous disregard of human life.”

      “Would he, now?” Gowain’s eyes narrowed, studying the regal tilt of her head. “And who might your illustrious sire be?”

      She blinked, then lowered her lashes, effectively shielding her eyes. “No one you would know.”

      “Ah. But I might have heard of him.”

      “Not all men’s names are whispered about like an ill wind.”

      “I long ago ceased to care what others said of me.” He gathered the reins to leave.

      “Wait.” She stretched out a hand to him, and he noted she yet wore her gloves, stained from her night’s labors. Odd she should keep her hands covered, for the air was not that chilled. “How much farther to your camp?”

      “A mile, no more,” he said curtly.

      She nodded and fell back on her haunches beside Stork. “Good. Send ahead and bid them heat water. I will also need bandages…clean bandages,” she added, eyeing his filthy tunic.

      “You are adept at issuing orders, Sister.”

      “And you slow to follow them,” she snapped. Her raised chin and contemptuous expression clearly showed her willfulness. “If you do not value their lives, think how hard it may be to replace them with other boys willing to follow you into battle.”

      “On the contrary, Sister,” Gowain said icily, straining to contain a temper he usually had no trouble controlling. “It is easy to find boys who will fight for me. The water will be waiting.” He spurred his horse forward so swiftly a cry went up.

      “Are we attacked?” Henry called as he passed the wagon.

      “Nay.” But he was beset by a sharp-tongued shrew of a nun. He’d thought Blanche haughty, but this one left her in the shade. He wanted her gone, wished he could send her on to Newstead. If she was in league with Ranulf, however, she’d quickly tell his half brother about the size of Gowain’s force and location of his camp. Gowain could not afford to take that chance.

      Nor could he be without a healer till the wounded recovered. None of the other women in camp had her skill. Much as he hated to need anyone, he needed the nun.

      

      “We’re here, Sister.” Henry halted the wagon.

      Alys shifted on her numb knees. The forest through which they’d traveled most of the night still surrounded them on three sides. Ahead lay a ridge of jagged mountain peaks. Set out against the gray sky of early dawn, they seemed to growl at the heavens like the teeth of some great, defiant monster. What a bleak, fitting place for an outlaw band, yet she saw no tents or lean-tos. “Surely you do not live in the open.”

      He chuckled, revealing broken teeth set in a face as craggy as the mountains. “Nay. Camp is up there wi’ the crows.”

      Alys tipped her head back and looked where he pointed. “All I see are stone and sky.”

      “Aye. ‘Tis what’s made it nigh impossible for Ranulf the Cruel to find us. There’s caves up there, the entrance hidden well back among the rocks. The trail’s narrow, tricky as hell…er, if ye’ll pardon my speech, Sister…and well guarded. Even if Ranulf did find it, he’d not drag us out in a hundred years.”

      Alys groaned faintly. She’d hoped Gowain’s camp would be in the forest, so that she might slip away into the trees and escape. Once trapped in the mountain, how would she ever get out?

      Her throat constricted as the enormity of her situation truly sank in. She was the prisoner of a vicious outlaw, protected only by her habit and his necessity. Had Stork not assumed she was a nun, had they not needed her to keep the men alive, she’d be dead, or worse….

      What would happen if they discovered she wasn’t a nun?

      Alys clasped her arms around her shivering body and struggled to stay calm. There had to be a way out. She’d keep her wits calm and her eyes open for a chance to steal a horse and ride off. Better to be lost in the woods than to be the prisoner of such as these. Mayhap she could find her way to Eastham and Ranulf.

      Ranulf, of course.

      Alys nearly laughed aloud in relief. Ranulf had wanted to wed her. Surely he would not leave her to the outlaws’ mercy. He’d either send trackers to follow them to this hideout, or СКАЧАТЬ