Beauchamp Besieged. Elaine Knighton

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СКАЧАТЬ had presented. Neither gifts nor threats had changed her mind, so Raymond had resigned himself to accept her self-chosen role. She was bright and lovely and of course Giles pursued her constantly.

      “My lord, Wace sent me up with these things.” Shona smiled at Raymond and glanced at Giles, as she set the trencher of bread, mutton stew, and cheese on the table.

      Giles wasted no time on the food. He took the girl’s hand and pulled her to his side, his arm snug about her hips. “Ah, sweet Shona, when shall we be wed, as I have begged for so long?” He gazed up at her, a grin threatening.

      “When thou art true to me, sir, and love none other.” She wound a lock of his sable hair about her fingers. Giles bent his head and rested his cheek in the curve of her trim waist.

      Raymond averted his eyes from the sight of such comfortable familiarity. It only served to accentuate the terrible hole he felt growing in his own gangrenous core. Despite his bold statement to Giles, he was beginning to question his motives for waging war on his brother. How much was revenge, and how much simply a desire for annihilation? Was it Alonso he wished to destroy, or himself? Either way, it was a road straight to hell. But then, he was already there, burning.

      He could not get the mysterious, black-tressed girl out of his thoughts. Ceridwen. He wanted her. Yearned for her. Dreamed of her midnight hair, trailing through his fingers. Her soft lips straining to meet his. He wanted to get his hands on her supple body, and bring a glow of passion to her white skin.

      But even if she lived, she preferred the perils of the great forest to being with him. It was his own damned fault. Raymond retrieved his knife and pushed away from the table. Leaving the food untouched he left the solar, Hamfast bounding after him.

      Giles sighed deeply and stood. Shona, with tousled blond hair peeking from beneath her linen head-cloth, came only to his shoulder. She tilted her head back to look at him.

      “You are ever too great for me, my lord Giles.” She cast her gaze downward.

      “Not so great. And who is to notice, lying down?” He tipped her chin back up with his forefinger.

      She batted at him with small, chapped hands.

      Giles caught both of Shona’s hands in one of his. Putting his free arm about her waist, he lifted her to eye level. “I am yours. Command me as you will.” He moved his mouth nearer and nearer to hers, closing his eyes halfway.

      Shona squirmed in Giles’s grip. “Put me down. Nay, wait.” Her lips met his in a girlish, chaste kiss. “Now put me down.”

      “That is a start, anyway.” He set her carefully on her feet. “I must go after Raymond before he does himself hurt.”

      Shona paused as she reached to clear away the untasted food. “Help him, Sir Giles. None of us can speak to him. Not the way he needs to be spoken to.”

      “I will try, Shona-lass.”

      The dew had not yet dried on the grass, and the mossy, intricately carved cairn-cross rose like a tombstone at the side of the road. Ceridwen avoided its chill shadow as she sat astride the drowsy pony Alys had provided. Her escort, arranged by promise of payment from her father, was late.

      Old Nance rubbed his bulbous nose and peered down the road. “Here ye’ll be safe ’til Rory comes, lass. ’Tis a holy place.”

      Ceridwen frowned. “Aye, but how will I recognize him?”

      “No matter, he’ll find ye. There’s no other maid waitin’ here, God love and bless ye.” Old Nance scratched himself in a resigned manner. “I’d best be on me way. The missus’ll have me privates in the cheese press if I’m late to Mass.”

      “But—”

      “That’s settled, then. Godspeed and fare ye well, lady.” With a wave Nance set off for home at a remarkable pace for his bowed legs. The old man wanted his warm hearth, no doubt.

      Ceridwen hoped the crossroads was indeed a safe place, but the stout dagger at her waist offered reassurance. Rookhaven lay quiet with the master and most of his men at large, but it seemed Raymond’s commands were obeyed whether he was there or not. How she was to return, Ceridwen did not yet know. Meanwhile, she would do her best to sort out a plan.

      The pony raised its head, swiveling its shaggy ears forward. Ceridwen tightened her fingers around the knife-hilt as two men crested the hill. Both were stocky, with similar heads of stiff, red hair, and were armed with short swords. Freemen, and brothers as well, she would warrant. But they carried themselves boldly, and their stares made her uneasy.

      The taller of the two spoke up as they neared. “Good morrow, lady. Me and Sam here was just telling Old Nance how Rory’s still too drunk to be of any use this day.”

      Ceridwen woke her mount with a squeeze of her legs. “Aye?”

      The man smiled. “Even sober, Rory couldn’t find his way across the village square to save his own life. We’ll be your guide and guard, and won’t charge much.” He eyed the bag hanging from her saddle. It had bread and cheese in it, but he obviously envisioned something more valuable.

      “I will go after Nance and speak to him myself. I have naught with which to pay you until I reach home.” Ceridwen hoped she sounded convincing. The men exchanged glances. The one who had done the talking stood by as Sam took a step closer to the pony. Ceridwen’s heart thudded and her stomach muscles tensed.

      The talker smiled again. “Naught? But you’ve just been Beauchamp’s…guest.” He winked at Sam. “When it comes to women, Lord Raymond is generous to a fault. Gives them their due, he does.” Casually, he reached for her pony’s reins.

      “Nay!” Ceridwen kicked the sluggish animal forward and whipped her dagger from its sheath. “Back off! I have taken nothing from Sir Raymond. He can keep his filthy blood-money.”

      The men hesitated, then shrugged and stepped aside as she brandished her blade. Urging the pony past them, Ceridwen managed to put it into a canter. She pounded down the road. There was but one, and as long as it led away from the ruffians, she was satisfied.

      “’Tis a poor bargain you’ve struck, girl! A maid’s innocence is worth a pretty penny to a Beauchamp!”

      The guffawing men were soon left behind, and Ceridwen did not look back. It was broad daylight, after all. She would appeal to the parish priest when she found him, to help her find shelter until she knew what to do.

      Raymond rode his courser west, cursing the lateness of the day, the glowering clouds over the hills, the stubbornness of Welshwomen, and most of all, his own idiocy. He had thought he could accept not knowing Ceridwen’s fate, but the wondering had been unbearable. Upon his return Alys had given him a look that would have curdled milk, and refused to tell him anything.

      But that in itself spoke aloud. Surely if the girl had died, Alys would have shunned him entirely, and made his life a much greater misery than she was doing now. So here he was, searching a dozen sheep tracks and byways, every glen and wayfarer’s resting spot, hope dwindling with every step. Hamfast too scoured the hedgerows, only to follow endless false leads.

      Perhaps Ceridwen was lying in a ditch, or wolves had devoured her. Raymond’s fist tightened on his reins. He should have been with her, seen her home himself, or seen her body home, either way. He was a feckless СКАЧАТЬ