Chapter Sixteen

E rec woke to a gentle prodding that quickly became insistent. The chamber was dark, and he had slumbered so deeply that he did not, for a moment, know where he was.

"Milord," Enide said, shaking his shoulder, "you must wake."

She looked ghastly, with hollows beneath her eyes as though she had spent another sleepless night. He reached out and touched the back of his hand to her cheek. Had she been crying?

"Enide, it is not yet dawn."

"I know. But he will be here at daybreak."

He? He who? An imaginary brigand? Likely he should expect her to have nightmares if he was going to go chopping off heads in front of her. Ladies could be like that. Erec didn't mean to, but he yawned.

" Ooomf !" Half-yawned—then crumpled. He certainly didn't expect her to start pitching knees into his gut! He had bruises on bruises. He didn't need her adding to them. "What was that for?"

"Galoain played you false. He will be here at daybreak with an army."

False? Galoain? "But…but why?"

She looked away. "He wants to steal me."

He stared for a moment, trying to understand. Not that he didn't believe her, but… "He could have stolen you last night. I was unarmed."

Enide shook her head. "No, milord. He still feared you. He wants his knights with him."

Erec rubbed his jaw. That made no sense. What made him imagine Enide would be waiting at dawn to be stolen?

"Please, milord," she whispered, "take me away from here."

"I will," he said at once, climbing from the couch. Whatever the count had said to her, her distress was real. Erec was not so great a fool to imagine he could defend her from an army.

He threw open the door to the chamber and peered down the dark stairs. Their host's lanky servant slept in a heap at the bottom.

"Boy," Erec called.

The lad's head popped up. Then he jumped to his feet. "Milord?"

"Run to the stable and saddle my charger and the lady's palfrey. Hurry."

"Yes, Sire."

The boy sped away. Erec shut the door and rejoined his wife.

"Help me dress," he commanded. As she laced his greaves, her fingers faltered. He touched the top of her head. "Don't be frightened."

She looked up. Worried. "I'm merely tired."

That made him feel worse. He had subjected her to things no lady should suffer. And she was afraid to admit to him that she was afraid.

"I'll do the greaves," he said gruffly, pulling away. "Fetch my scabbard and sword."

The boy knocked on the door just as Erec finished lacing and buckling.

"Your horses are ready, Sire," he called.

"As are we," Erec returned. He nodded to Enide. "Come, lady."

She followed him out the door and down the dark stairway, so close behind he could tell she had lifted her skirts with one hand and was feeling her way along the wall with the other. At the entrance hall, the innkeeper met them. His clothing was disheveled and his face grim.

"Milord," he said. "It cannot be true that you would depart now. It's still nighttime."

"Thank you for your graciousness but we must leave immediately," Erec said, struggling to find his dignified voice. It must look like he was sneaking out without paying. "I beg you to accept the four horses I leave in your stable. The saddles and bridles as well."

"Milord!" The innkeeper bowed deeply and rose quickly. "At least you must allow me to prepare food for you to take on your way. Your generosity—"

"Thank you, but no. We must depart."

He grasped Enide by the elbow and led her past their host, who continued to call blessings upon them. Outside the door, their horses waited, saddled and ready. He felt Enide hesitate.

"What is it now?"

"Prudy is not quick-footed."

Erec's jaw slackened. She was right. But he could not cheapen his gift to the innkeeper by exchanging a horse. Nor could he waste time unsaddling Enide's palfrey and preparing a better mount.

"But you love her so," he said stubbornly.

A crease appeared above her brow, then smoothed away. Her face became as expressionless as a stone.

She moved to the palfrey's side, and he helped her mount, then quickly climbed into his own saddle. Irked, he snatched up Prudy's lead rope and put his spurs to his mount. This was not how a quest was supposed to go—sneaking out of inns in the middle of the night like a thief, having his wife irritated at him for choosing her a slow horse when she needed to flee from lustful counts and their armies. He used to be good at questing before he had a wife to prove it to.

They trotted through the quiet town streets and out the gate. Erec urged both horses into a canter. Looking over his shoulder, he could see Prudy dragging at the rope and Enide biting her lip with worry. Stretching far off into the distance in all directions were farmers' fields. The road cut a straight path through them. On such a road, the fastest horse would win the race.

Why had she waited until the last minute to tell him?

An image of the two tête-à-tête beside the hearth rose before him. Galoain and Enide must have discussed this treachery. Why hadn't she warned him sooner? Had she been weighing her options? What had tipped the scales?

Galoain had played him false, admiring his bravery and strength. The tale of the bandits had made him yearn for the days of his own youth, so he'd said. Erec felt sick. Had he grown that desperate for praise? Or worse. Had he always been so?

Now he heard the thundering of multitudinous hoofbeats. The count had gathered an army indeed.

Run, Prudy, run!

"Milord," Enide panted, shouting. "We must reach the woods and hide. If Galoain catches us, he will kill you."

She was predicting his death now? He reined in sharply.

"Lady, have I ever failed you? Don't count me dead until I do!" He caught sight of her stricken face. Those could not be the last words he ever spoke to her. "Go, wait in the forest. I'll find you."

When she galloped off, Erec surveyed the field. Galoain's lust had made him foolhardy. He had an army of knights that appeared a hundred strong. But he rode so far ahead of them, they would be no use to him. Erec gripped his lance and shield and charged.

As they clashed, the force of the count's lance splintered Erec's shield, but Erec was well set in his saddle and did not lose his stirrups. His own lance hit Galoain's shield low, shattering it to pieces. He drove the weapon cleanly through the villain's abdomen and saw him fall.

He'd killed the villain. Good. There was now a small chance for escape—if he and Enide could outride the army.

Erec turned for the forest. Halfway there, he realized he heard no hoofbeats following. Looking behind, he saw the knights gathered round the count. Curious, Erec halted and watched. Why weren't they chasing the man who had killed their lord? They were duty-bound to do so. Instead, they were hoisting the count's body as if to return to the castle. All except for a lone rider, who loped his horse toward Erec in a manner not at all belligerent. As the rider drew closer, Erec recognized Allan.

"Sire," the squire called. "Count Galoain sends word. He regrets the wrong he has done you. His loyal knights wanted to give chase, but he refused them permission. As for the lady…" Erec tensed. Allan finished, "To the wise and courteous lady, he sends his regards and says he kept his word."

"What word was that?" Erec demanded.

The squire looked at the ground. "That is all he said."

"Very well." It was not well at all. "Did I kill him?"

"No. I think he might live."

Unsure how he felt about that, Erec said only, "Godspeed." Then he whirled his mount and returned to his lady. She was not hiding amidst the trees as she ought, but rather waiting on the road at the forest's edge. Her face was flushed, and she was wringing her hands.

"I am not dead," he announced. He meant to sound triumphant, but since he was stating the obvious it came out sounding petulant.

"Praise God." She looked as if she wanted to weep.

"Galoain is not either."

She didn't react. He wanted to know what the count had promised her. He didn't know how to ask.

"He sent his regards."

She rubbed her nose and stared. "How very strange."

"Yes." He decided to tell her. "He said to tell you he kept his word."

For a long moment, she sat astride Prudy with her brow furrowed, saying nothing. Then she blinked and looked at him, wide-eyed and innocent. "I know! He vowed he would always esteem me. And that he would give me all that I wanted."

" Pssht. A fine thing to promise another man's wife." His chest throbbed. He'd set off on this accursed quest to prove that he was still the same valiant knight who inspired troubadours' songs, a knight deserving of the loveliest maiden at court. She was still the loveliest. Did he still deserve her?

"Lead on," he said, trying to command, but in a voice far too apologetic. "We aren't being pursued. We need not enter the forest."

Watching Enide ride on before him, so graceful, so fair, Erec felt something tug at the edges of his heart, lifting his spirits. It was something she had said. What was it?

Oh. All that she wanted . And the count gave her… him .