Chapter Eleven

“ G od’s wounds, I have never seen so many disgruntled faces,” Walter remarked as they rode slowly into the new camp about an hour after sunrise. “Did the light-skirts all run off yesterday, Eric?”

“With as much as they earn of a night with us?” Eric snorted. “Not likely.”

“Then what is wrong with Rothwell’s men?”

“You do not want to know.”

Walter frowned to see Eric shaking his head, yet grinning, but he was distracted and shouted to those near, “Hold tight! Lady Ella has seen her master.”

A brown blur came racing across the camp to leap onto Ranulf’s destrier. The huge horse did not even snort, used to this particular presence, though the other war-horses reared and snapped, and it took several moments to get them back under control. There were curses aplenty, but at last Ranulf was smiling, so no one cursed very loudly. And the creature who had caused the commotion was oblivious to it, settled now in her favored spot atop Ranulf’s wide shoulder, wrapped half around his neck.

“You were saying, Eric?” Ranulf said now from his position on Eric’s right.

“I was?”

“About Rothwell’s men?”

“Oh.” Eric was chagrined to have been caught ribbing Walter. Neither had known Ranulf had been lis tening to their exchange. “Mayhap you should talk to their master-at-arms. ’Tis doubtful you will believe it coming from me.”

“Do you tell me anyway.”

That tone was not one to argue with. “The way I understand it, had we been delayed just one day in taking the lady, we would have been fighting Rothwell’s men as well as hers.”

“How so?”

“Their one year of service with Rothwell ends today.”

“So?”

“So they do not mean to return to him. Had they been still at Clydon today, they would have offered their service to the lady.”

“And told her our plans?” Walter demanded, outraged.

“Aye. Apparently they hate Rothwell, but he had paid them in advance, so they could not leave his service. So until that service ended, they remained loyal to him.”

Walter whistled. “Incredible. A matter of a few hours made the difference in our success, because those louts clung to the very letter of their contract. That is carrying misplaced loyalty a bit far, especially when the lady would have been eternally grateful to them if they had joined her, and they must have known it.”

Eric nodded. “So there you have the reason for their sour faces this morn.”

“Did Master Scot tell you all this?” Ranulf asked.

“Aye.”

“Think you he will still approach the lady?”

Eric shook his head. “You have her now, so she is no longer in a position to hire anyone. They are only fourteen stronger than us, and our four knights even those odds. They might be stupid, but not that stupid.”

“Will they hire to us, then?” Walter asked.

“Aye, and gladly.”

“Then why were they willing to join the lady’s service?” Ranulf demanded.

Eric chuckled. “For revenge. They hate Rothwell enough that they do not want to see this good fortune come to him. But since that opportunity is lost, and well they know it, they will see to themselves now.”

Ranulf grunted, satisfied for now, but he would have to talk to the master-at-arms himself. “Farring Cross is not large enough to support them all, not with my own men, and I do not even have it yet. Mayhap I can use twenty…tell Master Scot I will work something out with him, to come to me after we make camp tonight. Right now, I needs unwrap the lady and listen to her screams and demands the while my patience lasts. We ride within the hour.”

“She will not remain ungagged for long,” Eric predicted as Ranulf turned about to head back toward the supply cart.

“Mayhap,” Walter said thoughtfully. “But you were not long in her presence yesterday, as we were. You did not see how easily she assumes command. She has been long on her own, after all, nigh on two years with no man to gainsay her. ’Tis as like Ranulf will be doing the screaming and demanding if he must deal with her.”

“’Tis as like he will do that anyway, no matter her reaction.” Eric laughed.

Somehow Reina had managed to sleep the remainder of the night. Given that she could not see or move or do aught toward an escape at present, there was not much else to do but sleep, especially when she was still quite exhausted from one of the most grueling days of her life. And cushioned as she was between sacks, and with her thick cover adding to that, the ride was not as bumpy as it would have been otherwise, not enough to keep her awake. Nor did the removal of her blanket of sacks wake her. But being picked up none too gently has a way of breaking through the deepest slumber.

She was being carried in a pair of sturdy arms, but whose arms she could not say. No word had been spoken near enough for her to hear it, though there were numerous sounds all around her, vague and distant-sounding through the thickness of her cover. Was she to meet this Rothwell now? Was she at least to be unwrapped?

Fast on that thought, she was set down and literally unwrapped, rolled out of her cover and several feet farther with the impetus. She came to rest facedown, her nose buried in thick grass, the strong verdant smell of it nigh choking her. Well, what did she expect? Fitz Hugh had said he did not care if she went to Rothwell naked. Rolled out at his feet and nearly naked was just as bad. But when she rolled to her side and managed to use her bound wrists and an elbow to push herself to a sitting position, she found only the giant and his youngest squire present.

She had been brought into a tent, not a very large one, and quite empty, though there was a place or two where the grass was flattened, indicating something had been there earlier but had since been re moved or packed away. His camp, then, but where had the rest of his men gone? The light coming through the walls revealed it was morning. She could assume they would not be here long.

The boy, Lanzo, stood next to the giant, looking rather startled, as if he had not expected Reina to be treated so carelessly. He held a bundle of clothes in one arm and a stool in the other, which he finally recalled and set down. Fitz Hugh was crouched on his haunches, likely to avoid stooping in a tent not large enough for his impossible height. He looked no more friendly than he ever had to her, golden brows drawn together, lips tight over clenched teeth. Obviously he would prefer not to be anywhere near her, though for some reason felt it his chore to deal with her himself.

He proved her earlier conclusion when he stood up to come nearer but could not stand straight. Then he was back on his haunches next to her, reaching for the bound hands she had resting in her lap.

“Take care of her feet, Lanzo,” he ordered without looking back at the boy. “We do not have all day to waste here.”

He had not said anything to her, had not met her gaze directly, nor did he now, looking down instead at the knot on her wrists he was trying to pick apart. Lanzo had moved to kneel by her side where she had her legs tucked under her, and without being asked, she moved her feet farther to the side so he could reach them. Unfortunately, that threw her balance off and one shoulder slumped lower than the other, causing the loose material of her shift to slump also, halfway down her arm.

Cool air against bare skin brought instant color to Reina’s cheeks. She could not have been more horrified if she had been sitting there completely naked, for that would have been intentional, meant to humiliate her and put her at a disadvantage. This was accidental and much more embarrassing because it should not have happened at all, regardless that it was not yet noticed. And worse, when she tried to raise her hands to slip the material back on her shoulder before it was noticed, the stupid giant refused to let go of her wrists, probably thinking she was trying to resist his efforts to free her, though why he should think she did not want to be free was beyond her.

A glance to the side showed the boy was not as unobservant as the man. He was paralyzed, his eyes agog, his mouth dropped open as he stared at her. But he was just a boy, she told herself, even as she turned a shade darker in color. ’Twas the man’s eyes Reina wanted to avoid. Righting her shoulder was the wrong thing to do, however, for it only bared more skin, though she found that out too late.

Desperately, she tried again to raise her hands—to have the horror finally realized. Fitz Hugh’s eyes came up in irritation, but rose no farther than the bared breast staring him right in the face.

Reina groaned behind her gag, but nobody seemed to hear it. In his surprise, Fitz Hugh was holding even tighter to the ties about her wrists, though his fingers had stilled on the knots. She still could not raise her hands and he just stared at her breast, just as the boy was doing, as if neither of them had ever seen one before. Reina could not even try getting to her feet to turn her back on them. Even if the man would let go of her wrists, to raise up on her knees to get to her feet would shove her breasts right in his face. Though this might snap him out of his bemused stare, she did not care to try it. Some men might construe something like that as an invitation, and if he should think so…

It was Lanzo who came to her rescue at last, though he seemed pained to do so. Hot color had rushed into his cheeks when his senses returned to realize Reina could not correct the matter herself. His hand moved toward her hesitantly, thumb and forefinger extended, trembling; and carefully, as if he would die if he actually touched her skin, he plucked the material off her arm to set it back on her shoulder.

That the top of the shift caught on the tip of her breast and shriveled the nipple before covering it was of no moment to anyone but the man still staring at it. Reina was simply relieved to be halfway decent again. Not even those violet eyes meeting hers for the briefest second before lowering to her wrists could discompose her again. The damage was done. Best forget it as he appeared willing to do.

But she did wonder what had happened to the angry visage for that brief moment when he looked up at her. Angry, Ranulf Fitz Hugh was still handsome. Bemused, he was devastating. She liked the angry visage better. She could breathe easier when he was merely handsome, though why that was so she did not know.

And the frown was back when he still had no luck untying her. At last he drew his dagger, and though it was a tight squeeze between her wrists, the ties were quickly severed. A flick by her feet and at her cheek, and the rest of the cloths fell away, too.

If only he had done that to begin with, Reina thought resentfully, then she would not have this em barrassing incident between them to color what she was feeling. She had every right to rail at him for what he had done to her, but at the moment, she wished he would just go away.

But he did not. He drew the stool to him and sat down right in front of her. That he had not offered her the stool was no more than she could expect after everything else. The man was the most unchivalrous knight she had ever met. And if he thought she was going to remain sitting in this demeaning position at his feet, he was crazy.

Reina ignored him for a moment whilst she spat out the cloth in her mouth and flexed her jaw to ease the stiffness from it. She took another moment to rub her wrists before slowly getting to her feet. With as much dignity as she could manage with her hair streaming about her in a tangled mess, and wearing no more than a thin shift that fell only just past her knees, she walked to where her cover had been tossed at the side of the tent and drew it around her like a mantle. Only then did she deign to face the enemy.

“So, Sir Knight,” she began in a deceptively pleasant tone. “If you have aught to impart to me, do you get to it right quickly. I cannot stomach your presence for very long.”

That stung enough to bring him soaring to his feet, only he forgot the tent would not accommodate him. Reina almost laughed to see his expression when his head struck the ceiling, shaking the walls so much the tent was in danger of collapsing. He was forced to sit back down, where his newest anger was still intimidating, but not nearly as much as it would be were he towering over her.

“I see the feeling is mutual,” she said before he could, thereby stealing his thunder and making his expression darken even more. “At least we have that in common, so if you can find a tongue that knows aught besides lies, do bring it forth.”

She saw he had to strain this time to remain sitting, but he did discover his voice, a very loud one directed at Lanzo. “Gag her!”

Reina stiffened and rounded on the hapless youth before he could take a step toward her. “Touch me, boy, and I will box your ears so hard you will hear bells for a sennight. If he is too cowardly to hear what I have to say of him, let him gag me himself. He does it so gently .” And her cerulean eyes seemed that much lighter as they came back to rest on the knight, daring him to just try it.

“Cowardly, lady? I care naught what you think of me, but you waste time—”

“Aye,” she cut in with a sneer. “A baseborn knight would not care, which your manner claims you to be.”

“You have that aright,” he growled back.

It was deflating for an intended insult to turn out to be a truth instead. And perhaps she was pressing her luck just a little in deliberately provoking him. He looked now as if he were about to come apart, his body was straining so hard not to come after her and throttle her. Well, she had made her point and her disdain clear. Best get on with hearing what he had to say.

“Well, then,” she said on a sigh, “let us waste no more time, the sooner to part company.” And yet she just could not seem to stop herself from adding, “What has your duplicity accomplished?”

“You harp on lies and duplicity, lady, but you opened your gates to me.”

“Because you pretended to give aid!”

“I did give aid. What I did not do was slaughter the rest of your people to take you out of Clydon yesterday, which would have been more easily done. If your misplaced dignity is not worth those lives, say so.”

That effectively knocked the steam out of her. She knew very well that to have taken her any other way than he had would have left countless bodies behind.

“None of that discounts that you had no right to take me at all,” she said in a quieter, though no less bitter, tone. “You did not come from my lord as you claimed.”

“There you are mistaken, lady,” he was pleased to tell her. “As your betrothed, Lord Rothwell is your lord, and I act on his behalf. And he does have the right to take you and force you to honor your betrothal contract with him. Whether ’twas your idea or Shefford’s to put him aside is of no moment. He does not choose to be put aside.”

Reina listened to this quite calmly, and then confounded the man by smiling at him. “If you believe that nonsense, you have been duped. My betrothed died two years ago, just before my father left for the Holy Land. There was no time before he left to arrange another alliance. He charged me to see to the matter, and through correspondence with him, I had two men he and I both approved, and ’tis one of these I would have been wed to within the week.”

“Who?”

“That is hardly a concern of yours, other than this Rothwell you mention is not one of them. I have never even heard of the man, and if he says he has a contract, he lies.”

“Or you do.”

Reina’s chin came up sharply. “I have my father’s letters to prove what I say.”

“Then produce them.”

“Idiot!” she hissed in exasperation. “The letters are at Clydon.”

“So you want me to believe, but I would be an idiot the day I take a lady at her word,” he snorted.

Her eyes narrowed on him at that left-handed insult. “Then you still intend to take me to your lord?”

“He is not my lord, but aye, for five hundred marks, you most definitely will go to him. What I want to know from you is why my task was made so easy. Why were you so poorly protected?”

Reina was still reeling over the paltry sum he had been offered to ruin her life. As for his wanting answers from her now…

“Go to hell, Fitz Hugh. I am done talking to someone so unreasonably pigheaded. For that matter, I am done suffering his presence.”

So saying, she took flight, and with no one standing between her and the front of the tent, ’twas not difficult. That she blundered into the midst of his entire camp gave her only momentary pause. The thunderous roar she left behind was incentive enough to quicken her step; and, barefoot or not, she raced straight for the nearest horse she spotted, sending up a word of thanks that it was a gelding rather than a war-horse, and still saddled, too. The men lounging all around her, under trees and in front of cooking fires, merely gaped at her as she sped through them, too surprised to do anything.

For not having planned her escape, she was doing remarkably well, and even believed she could actually make it now that she had reached the horse. The cover had to go in order for her to hoist herself into the saddle without a boost up, but that was a small sacrifice to make for success. The horse was not that many hands tall, and once her foot found the stirrup, she managed to pull herself up the rest of the way.

But there her problems began. That her shift rode halfway up her thighs as she sat astride was the least of them. The horse did not care for her light weight on its back and made haste to let her know. That was not her main problem either, for she was not inexperienced with difficult mounts. Her biggest problem was that every man in camp had stood up by then, fully aware now what she was about. There was a solid wall of them blocking the three directions that would take her away from the enraged knight, too close for her to pick up the speed to break through them. The only opening available was back the way she had come, right though the heart of the camp. As long as she could generate enough speed to knock away anyone who tried to stop her, there was still a chance.

She wasted no more time thinking about it, but drew the horse about and dug her bare heels into its sides. Disdainfully, it would not budge, and after all its sidestepping and head tossing until then! Furiously, Reina gave it a sharp taste of the reins she had gathered in one fist, then almost lost her seat when it bolted. But that was the speed she needed, and the first few men who dared get in her way dived for cover when they saw she would run them down rather than stop.

Unfortunately, the closer she got to the end of the camp, the braver they got, reaching for the reins, banging into her knees as they missed, trying to frighten the horse with wildly waving arms. One fellow succeeded in latching onto her arm, but a sharp twist made him loose his grip before she lost her balance. And then she saw Walter de Breaute coming at her, taller than all the others, more able to reach up to her because of his extra height, and she steered away from him, only to find herself riding right at Fitz Hugh on her other side—too late. He did no more than hold out an arm as she passed, and she was plucked right off the horse, the animal riding on without her, while she felt as if she had run into a stone wall.

She lost her breath at the impact of his arm with her belly, and that it still squeezed her while holding her to his side did not make it easy for her to start breathing again. But once her lungs finally filled with air, she let out a screech of outraged fury, half for being stopped, half because she was being hefted back to the tent rather than being allowed to walk.

“Cretin! Devil-spawned lout! Put me dow —”

The word ended on a whoosh when he tightened the iron band about her waist. She started to struggle then, kicking backwards at him, hammering at his arm and the shoulder she could reach. But he seemed not to notice her efforts at all, just kept marching along, with her practically sitting on his hip, her feet a long way from the ground.

When he did set her down, it was directly in front of the tent opening. She got a look at his face then, and it was thunderous.

“Lady, you are more trouble than you are worth,” he rumbled out.

If he had not said that, she might have become truly afraid of him at last, for his visage was terrible to behold. But those words rubbed her on the raw. And besides, if he ever did strike her with one of those clublike fists that he was clenching at his sides, she would not be alive to worry about it ever happening again.

“Nay, that is where you are so stupid, Fitz Hugh,” she said with contempt. “My worth is well known and makes your Judas fee insignificant. Clydon earns four times as much in just one year. Your friend Rothwell knows it, even if you do not. Well he will laugh at how little he had to pay to steal a fortune and the power behind it.”

For that she got a light push on her shoulder that sent her stumbling backwards into the tent. “Five minutes you have to dress yourself ere this tent comes down. In ten we ride out.”

That was all he said, or rather shouted in at her. No comment on what she had said, just change before the tent was dismantled. He really was a loutish bear, in size as well as intelligence. Jesú , he could ask for anything and she would give it, just to get out of this fix. His bargaining power was unbelievable, because she was at present in his possession. But did he see that? Nay, all he saw was the five hundred marks he would be earning, and unfortunately, that was the one thing she could not offer him, thanks to her father having emptied their coffers for King Richard’s Crusade.