Chapter 11

"Are you hungry, my lady?"

Avalene looked up from her sewing to see Armand step through a gap in the willow branches. The smell of wood smoke came to her as if it had followed him. Her stomach rumbled in response. "Aye, a meal would be welcome, Armand. Thank you."

Armand opened his mouth as if he meant to say something more, but changed his mind at the last minute and let the branches fall back into place. Her gaze went to Rami as she heard Armand walk away.

The boy looked terrified, just as he had every time one of the men came anywhere near them. She could not understand why, unless they had somehow mistreated him. It was also possible he was afraid of all men, since his last master had most definitely mistreated him. However, she did not recall seeing any fear in Rami toward Armand before his fall and he now looked at her, the woman he had all but run from, as if she could answer all his prayers. The child was exceedingly strange.

Rami lay on her cloak with his bandaged head resting on her saddlebag. He had drowsed in and out of sleep all day, but now he was clear-eyed and alert. His brown eyes were almost black in the shade of their makeshift tent, narrowed now in an expression that was far too shrewd for a child of his age. He sat up slowly, as if he wanted to be sure Armand was gone before he drew any attention to himself. His gaze returned to her, an unwavering, penetrating stare that made her uncomfortable.

"You want more willow bark tea?" she asked. He nodded eagerly. She set aside her needle and thread as well as the stocking she was mending, and then reached behind one of the saddlebags to retrieve a wineskin that was now filled with the tea she had brewed earlier that day. Rami nodded and took a long drink from the skin.

"Are you hungry?" she asked. " Ha fame? I can ask Armand for an extra portion, if you like."

Rami's eyes grew round and frightened again at either the mention of Armand's name or the extra portion of food, she wasn't sure, but suspected the fear lay with Armand. He shook his head even as he winced, and then launched into a torrent of words spoken so quickly that Avalene could only understand a scant handful. Mercy. Repay. Stupid. Lord Dante.

"Who is Lord Dante?" she asked. All of the color left Rami's face. "Oh, is he your last master? The one who starved you?"

Rami squeaked in fright and scrambled backward when Armand suddenly appeared again, stepping through the trailing willow whips.

"My lady, there is fresh meat roasting on the fire if you would care to join me?" He did not wait for her answer, but turned to the boy. " Ha fame , Rami?"

Rami shook his head so hard that he had to have hurt himself. He lay back down and pulled the cloak up until just the top of his head was visible.

"He seems quite frightened of you," Avalene said, knowing the boy could not understand her words.

Armand ignored the remark and spoke again to Rami. "Soggiorno tranquillo. Capisce?"

"Si, capisco," came the reply.

"He was not bothering me," Avalene protested. "He just needs some rest and then I am sure he will be himself again."

"I am sure you are right," Armand said agreeably. He extended his hand. "Shall we eat, my lady?"

Avalene gave her hand to Armand to help her rise. Beyond the willow tree the sun almost touched the hills to the west, a glowing red beacon framed by dark clouds that would surely bring rain before morning.

Armand had built a fire by the edge of the bluff with what looked like a rabbit roasting on a spit and an iron kettle nestled in the coals. The closer she got to the fire, the more her stomach rumbled at the enticing scents. She took a seat on a ledge as he indicated, and then took a moment to study her companion as he prepared a bowl of food for her.

Armand was, without doubt, the prettiest man she had ever laid eyes upon. Tall and broad-shouldered with blond hair and blue eyes, he fit every idealized description of the hero knights depicted in the troubadours' tales. Verily, he could have walked straight out of Camelot or a painting of the Rapture. All he lacked was a halo.

He handed her a spoon and bowl of food, and then began to fill his own bowl as he asked, "My lady, is something amiss?"

Avalene shook her head. "Do you think Sir Percival will return soon?"

"Aye, my lady."

She waited in vain for him to elaborate, or to make some other comment that might start a conversation. Several hours ago he had told her of Percival's departure to ride on patrol using the same terse tone he employed now. She had been disappointed in both Percival's absence as well as his failure to tell her himself that he was leaving. It was a foolish disappointment. She could not expect him to check with her each time he made a decision. And there might be benefits to his absence. Surely the men who rode with him knew him better than any other. "Have you known Sir Percival very long?"

"Aye, my lady."

"How long?" she asked, getting annoyed with his brusque answers.

"Many years."

It unnerved her the way he held her gaze with each question until she grew uncomfortable under the scrutiny and looked away. He might be pleasing to look upon, but there was something about Armand that she did not like, something aside from his nearly-rude conversational habits.

She concentrated on finishing her meal as she watched Armand refill his bowl.

"If I may have your leave, my lady, I will take a meal to Oliver."

Avalene nodded, and then went to the spring to rinse her hands and get a drink of sweet water. Next she found some bushes to see to more private matters. Armand had still not returned from the ridge by the time she went back to the bluff, so she sat down to keep watch over the valley. She had scarce found her seat when she saw a flash of color at the crest of a hill across the valley, barely distinguishable in the fading light, but there all the same.

Her heart lodged in her throat until she saw a shape that had to be Sir Percival mounted on his big bay horse emerge for a few more seconds before he disappeared again beneath the canopy of trees. She watched the road behind him, but it did not appear he was being followed. Just as she turned to see what was keeping Armand, she heard a series of short whistles and he appeared beside her.

"Go back to the willow tree, my lady." He took the spit that had held the rabbit and began to spread apart the embers in the fire. "Pack whatever you have and be prepared to ride by the time Sir Percival arrives here."

"What is wrong?" she demanded.

"Sir Percival would not return during the daylight unless he encountered a search party," Armand told her, even as he picked up her empty bowl and began to scoop sand and gravel over the ashes. "Pack your things and rouse Rami. Sick or not, he will have to ride."

She hurried to do as he said and found Rami already sitting up and looking anxious. "We must leave."

"Che cosa ha ditto?"

"We must go," she said, trying desperately to remember the word in Italian. The answer suddenly came to her. " Andiamo! You must not be sick again or I am certain Sir Percival will be very displeased. No matter what, if any of the men ask how you feel, tell them you feel fine. Do you understand? Capisce? "

"Come?"

Avalene rolled her eyes, knowing it was not the boy's fault that he couldn't understand her. It was her lack of skills at Italian and her haste to pack their belongings. "Andiamo. Capisce?"

"Sì, andiamo." He rose from the makeshift bed and began to roll up the cloak. "Dobbiamo lasciare."

"Well, I'm sure that means something close enough to what I was trying to say," she muttered.

She piled as much into her arms as possible and left a smaller pile for Rami to carry. As she made her way from the willow, she saw that Rami understood her intent and followed her with the rest of their belongings. The horses were at the top of the ridge and she trudged up the hill to find both Oliver and Armand saddling the horses. Armand went back to the willow to retrieve her saddle. Within scant minutes, the saddlebags were added and the horses stood tethered but ready. She turned to watch the clearing, waiting impatiently as Sir Percival rode up to the ridge and finally dismounted.

"Innaffi il cavallo," he said to Rami, as he handed the boy his reins. Avalene understood enough to know that the horse was to be watered, and Rami set off for the spring on unsteady feet to accomplish the task. Percival barely spared her a glance and turned instead to his men. "The alarm must have gone up soon after we left and they pressed hard in pursuit yesterday. There are close to thirty of them but they are burdened with more packhorses and gear. Still, they are only about four hours behind us."

"We could hide in the hills and let them ride past us," Armand suggested.

"I thought of that as well," Percival said, as he shook his head. "There is only the one road to London in this district and we will run the risk of either catching up with them or meeting them on the road should they decide to turn back. The odds are better that we can outrun them. All of our horses except mine are fresh and they are encumbered with more men and packhorses than we have, which means it will take them longer each day to set and break their camps. We can ride another twenty or thirty miles today and tonight if the moon holds, and gain at least as many more miles tomorrow."

"Did you see my uncle?" Avalene asked. Despite his failing eyesight, Lord Brunor was an excellent tracker.

Percival gave her a strange look, and then shook his head. "I was too far away to see their faces."

"The horses are ready to leave," Oliver told him. "If you don't mind switching mounts with Rami, the bay would hardly know the boy was on his back and you would have a fresh horse for the next leg of the ride. Or, would you rather I remove the packs from the Arabian and change the saddles?"

"I'll ride Rami's horse." Percival tilted his head to look past Armand. "Here he is now. Let us depart."

Oliver and Armand began to remove the tethers from the horses while Percival led Bodkin to Avalene and handed her the reins. He lifted her effortlessly into the saddle, his hands lingering only a moment on her waist.

"I take it Rami is well enough to ride or you would be complaining by now," Percival said, still looking up at her as she rearranged her skirts over the saddle.

"He rested most of the day and is well on his way to recovery," she said. "You were kind to allow him time to mend. I doubt his injury will slow us down."

"Excellent. Your curative powers must be exceptional." He glanced over his shoulder toward where his men were busy preparing the horses, and then looked back at her. "There is something that has been bothering me all day."

He crooked his finger, indicating she should come nearer. What had she done wrong to earn such a forbidding look? She leaned down and then almost lost her balance when he cupped the back of her head with one hand to bring her face closer to his.

"It has bothered me that I had to wait all day for another taste of your lips," he murmured. "Kiss me again, Avalene."

She did as he asked and immediately lost herself in its warmth and urgency. All too soon their lips broke apart when her horse shifted its weight. Percival rubbed his thumb across her lower lip as if to seal his kiss there, and then he turned away to mount his own horse. He glanced over his shoulder as they started forward and gave her a mischievous wink. And that gave her plenty to think about for the next few hours.

Oliver, Dante, and Armand stood at the edge of a small creek late the next morning. They watered the horses while Avalene and Rami wandered across the road in the opposite direction, Avalene to find a secluded place to relieve herself and Rami to stay close enough to make certain nothing happened to her.

"You are certain it was Faulke Segrave?" Oliver asked.

Dante wiped away the misty drizzle from his face, and then kept an eye on the brush where the pair had disappeared. This was the first opportunity he'd had to speak privately to his men since he had discovered they were being pursued. "I recognized the lead rider's standard from the banners in Avalene's chamber; the Segrave's bloodred dragon on a black field. Every one of the horsemen had the same device emblazoned on their surcoats and all looked well armed. If Segrave and his men manage to overtake us, 'tis doubtful we could hold out against ten-to-one odds. That they are almost within striking distance means Segrave picked up our trail immediately after Avalene and I left Coleway."

"Aye, so it would seem," Armand agreed.

"The man is determined. I fear he will not be easy to dissuade," Oliver added.

"Aye, I have yet to formulate a persuasive argument that does not involve the threat of death," Dante admitted. "'Tis a dilemma I have never faced before."

He had also not expected to find anyone pursuing them within a score of miles. His guard had been lowered by his own arrogance as well as by distracting thoughts of his captive. He had almost ridden right up to Segrave's party before the sounds of the horses and armor finally penetrated his dulled senses. He had managed to get off the road and make his way to a ridge where he could remain hidden yet still see Segrave's soldiers as they rode by. It had taken time to work his way through the woods and get ahead of their pursuers again. As a result, Segrave's party was uncomfortably close.

"I found another of Mordecai's cards this morning that warns of leaving Avalene alone in the moonlight," he told the men, and then he recited the magician's cryptic message. "I have thought about its meaning all morning and I feel certain that ‘Nature's light in the darkest hour' must mean moonlight."

"Aye, that would make sense," Oliver said. "So that means she will be safe as long as she is not left alone at night, but does that also mean we will stay a step ahead of Segrave?"

"'Tis likely everything will proceed as planned so long as we make certain Avalene is never left alone while it is dark."

Dante actually looked forward to accomplishing that goal. Avalene had slept in his arms again last night, albeit far less comfortably than in their lair beneath the willow tree. Yesterday they had ridden the thirty miles he had been determined to put behind them before clouds finally obscured the moon and they had to stop or risk injuring the horses. They had barely dismounted and unsaddled the horses before the rain had started. The massive oaks they camped beneath had offered only temporary protection from the rain and their clothes were soon soaked through to their skin.

The only pleasant part of the night had been the hours he had spent holding Avalene beneath his cloak, their bodies pressed tightly together for warmth. He still marveled at the way she turned to him for comfort, almost kittenish in the way she burrowed into his hold. Still, the rain was a miserable companion and certainly not conducive to what he had originally planned for the evening. Not one of the pleasures he had fantasized about since their interlude beneath the willow tree had materialized. Now with the Segraves close on their trail, the odds were becoming less favorable that they would enjoy any of their trysts, the innocent rites of courtship he had planned to carry out before they reached London. That was another strike against Segrave. He was beginning to heartily regret his promise to spare the man's life.

"If the weather improves we can be in London by the end of the week," Armand said. "Segrave will have a hard time finding us once we are swallowed up by the city and safely behind the palace walls."

"I studied the faces of the men who rode with him," Dante said. "None were familiar from Coleway and all of the men wore the Segrave standard rather than Coleway's."

"My lord," Oliver murmured, with a nod of his head toward Rami and Avalene.

Dante watched the bedraggled pair make their way toward them. Rami held Avalene's arm as if he were escorting his lady across a grand piazza instead of a muddy English road, chattering to her about God only knew what. He doubted Avalene understood more than every third word.

The boy acted fully recovered from his fall, although Dante suspected he still suffered from headaches. Still, Rami had turned out to be much more amiable with Avalene than Dante had hoped, given their troubled introduction. His original plan to send Rami to his sister to train as a squire no longer sounded so logical. Rami was not English and never would be. He was far more adept at the machinations and intrigues that took place within an Italian household. Rami had listened without question to the part he would play in the plan to abduct Lady Avalene, and then had the gall to make a few suggestions as to how best to deceive the lady. Some of what he suggested was rather clever. A child his age who was that well versed in deception belonged in Venice.

Avalene, on the other hand, made him think of the beautiful blond Madonna paintings that could be found in almost every church. There was something serene and yet commanding about her presence. Throughout their escape, not one of the situations he had put her into had ruffled her composure, and yet she blushed prettily whenever he spoke of his desire for her. Not once had she complained about the weather or the other discomforts of the journey, and yet he knew she suffered as much as or more than any of them. She took every hardship in stride and even managed to remain in good spirits. The way she smiled at him, like she was doing right now, made him feel as if he had just received an undeserved blessing.

"Are we still making good time?" she asked, as she came closer.

"Aye," he said. "If we can keep up this pace, we will stay ahead of the search party." He knew she meant to take her reins when she reached toward him. Instead, he took her hand and lifted it to his lips to kiss the back of her kid glove. As always, her blush pleased him. "Would you like to ride with me for a while? Perhaps you could sleep."

"I do not want to slow us down," she said, although she did not withdraw her hand from his.

He had been making a concerted effort to touch or hold her whenever the opportunity arose, as long as it did not interfere with their flight. Just a day ago she would have withdrawn her hand from his as quickly as possible. His small attentions during the day coupled with how intimately he held her each night were having their effect. That she now stood calmly within his hold was an encouraging sign. "We will make the best time if you ride your own horse, but tell me if you become too tired."

She murmured her agreement, and then walked to her horse and waited patiently for him to help her mount. He made sure his hands lingered on her waist and brushed intimately along her hip and thigh. He felt a measure of satisfaction when he saw her shiver, certain it had little to do with the weather. He intended to take every opportunity to learn the shape and feel of her, and make her more and more comfortable beneath his touch while he was about it. If the skies cleared they might even have a dry bed for the night. He had spent most of the long hours in the saddle thinking of the things he would do with her when they weren't riding. Not all involved kisses and caresses, but those played a major role. He did not want to take things too far while they were on the road, but he was determined to make the most of what little time they had alone together. She would be ready and willing to take him as her lover by the time they reached London, where they would have privacy as well as a comfortable bed. She would be his at last.

As he turned his horse toward the east, he allowed his imagination free rein over fantasies about how they would spend their first few days in London.

Unfortunately, the weather grew markedly worse rather than better, changing over from a light drizzle to a steady rain. Lightning flashed in the distance, followed by an ominous roll of thunder that made his horse toss its head and take an uneasy sidestep, as if they could somehow walk around the sound. They were crossing a wide meadow where the sights and sounds of the storm felt more intense than when they were beneath the canopy of the forest.

Dante's gaze went to Rami and then to Avalene, who both rode ahead of him. All of the horses were struggling with mud that sucked at their hooves. The horses were spaced farther apart as a result, but they were all within a dozen lengths of each other. Rami rode at point and was just passing beneath a large oak, the only tree in the meadow. Both Rami and Avalene looked pitiful with their hoods pulled low and their shoulders slumped. They had to be cold and soaked to the bone like the rest of them, but he and his men, and even Rami, were accustomed to these sorts of hardships. Avalene was hunched over so far in her saddle that she looked ready to fall off her horse if a good wind caught her. She would never hold up if this weather continued for another four days. Perhaps it was time to have her ride with him again.

A chill wind touched the back of his neck and he glanced over his shoulder. Armand rode behind him with Oliver and the packhorses bringing up the rear. Behind Oliver a towering bank of ominous black clouds marched steadily toward them and the wind suddenly began to gust even as the temperature became instantly cooler. The tall grass in the meadow turned choppy, as if the meadow had suddenly become the churning waters of a sea. The wind created green currents and waves that flattened huge sections of grass across the meadow, then shifted direction just as quickly to allow grass in the calmer areas to spring back to attention.

Even as he watched, the feeble daylight took on an eerie shade of yellow-green and a solid wall of gray rain moved toward them. The thunder became a constant rumble and the force of the rain pelting the forest sounded almost like the rolling beat of hundreds of drums. Dante's horse shied nervously when rain mixed with hail began to sting them with the ferocity of a swarm of angry bees.

He looked for Avalene but suddenly could not see beyond a few feet in front of his own horse. Still, he was almost certain she would stop under the tree where she would be safe and spared the sting of the hail. Rami was so determined to prove his injury would not slow them down that Dante was equally certain the boy would still be riding, which meant Avalene would be…alone. Safe and alone.

A wave of panic rolled over him as quickly as the storm had come upon them. The signs became glaringly obvious even as he spurred his horse forward. The Queen…is alone and seems safe.… Beware Nature's light in the darkest hour . He had never known the sky to be darker during the daytime yet such a strange shade of green.

Those thoughts had no more than crossed his mind when the air around him suddenly changed, becoming utterly still and silent. Hail continued to fall from the sky, no longer driven by the winds but landing as if they were pebbles tossed carelessly from an open hand. Just as the last lumps of hail fell, the next sign appeared in an abrupt burst of blinding light, a bolt of lightning that shot straight into the heart of the oak that sheltered Avalene. The shaft of lightning that split the sky was as wide as a river and brighter than the sun. In an instant the entire top half of the tree burst into a cloud of red and gold flames.

The explosion of sound that immediately followed was nearly as spectacular, a force so powerful that the ground shook, the sound so loud that Dante's ears rang. His horse stopped dead in its tracks but Dante kept going. Half-blinded and mostly deaf, time seemed to slow down as he sailed through the air. He had a ridiculous thought that this was the first time in his adult life that he had been unseated from a horse.

The landing was harder than he anticipated. It knocked the thoughts from his head and the breath from his body. He rolled onto his back, gasping for air until he felt as much as heard his horse's hooves pounding dangerously close to where he lay. He curled into a ball and covered his head with one arm while he rubbed mud from his eyes with his free hand. The horse was probably blinded by the lightning as much as he was, and could trample him without knowing it.

His vision finally cleared and he could see that his horse had started to buck as if there were a demon on its back. Even as he struggled to his feet, the bucking turned into long leaps and then the animal bolted toward the forest, passing Armand at a dead run.

Armand had been thrown as well but had somehow managed to hold on to his horse's reins. He now had his hands full with a different problem. The long reins gave his horse plenty of room to rear up and Armand was doing his best to stay clear of the deadly hooves that slashed the air above him.

Dante turned toward the sound of more rapidly approaching hoofbeats and found himself directly in the path of Avalene's horse. Even as he made a diving leap to one side, he caught a glimpse of her ashen face and heard her strangled cry of "Help!" as the horse bolted past him. He was on his feet in an instant, but could only watch helplessly as her horse raced past Armand and Oliver, and then disappeared over the crest of the hill.

Oliver was still mounted, but the packhorses had entangled themselves in the tether lines along with Oliver's horse, and the animals could do little more than trot in nervous circles. God only knew Rami's fate. Dante wasted a few precious seconds venting the vilest curse that had ever passed his lips, and then he took off at a run toward Armand, who had his horse under control by the time Dante reached him.

"Both of us!" Dante shouted, pointing toward Armand's horse. Armand understood and swung into the saddle, then held out his hand so Dante could mount behind him.

They spied Dante's horse as soon as they reached the top of the hill. The reins trailed along the ground and the horse stepped on the lines and tripped itself twice before they were close enough to grab the bridle. An instant later, Dante was back on his own horse, thankful the reins that had hampered the animal's flight hadn't snapped. He held them to a slow but still dangerous canter, given the condition of the road. He scanned the road ahead and the surrounding brush. There was no sign of Avalene.

"There!" Armand shouted, over another boom of thunder. He pointed toward a spot in the road.

At last Dante saw long gashes amongst the puddles where a horse had lost its footing in the mud, but there was no sign that it had gone down. At least the horse was instinctively staying to the road.

They entered the forest again and found the road firmer, which made her trail easier to follow. The branches above them were too high to strike a rider, but she would be hard pressed to avoid low-hanging branches if the horse took her off the road. The farther they rode, the more he hoped for such an accident. Where was she?

Soon ancient oak, elm, and walnut trees rose high above the forest floor. Rain dripped from the canopy of leaves but no longer fell in torrents. The thick carpet of moss and decaying leaves muffled the sounds of the storm as well as their horses' hoofbeats.

They had ridden several miles when Dante reined in his horse before a bend in the road. He had a bad feeling about this forest. Armand pulled up beside him.

"Go find Rami and help Oliver gather the horses, and then take them into the woods near the edge of the forest," Dante said. "Make sure no one can see or hear you from the road. If I do not return by nightfall, search for me in this area."

"Aye, my lord."

Armand turned his horse and rode back toward the clearing. Dante left the road and led his horse to a thick clump of brush, where he dismounted. Satisfied that the animal was hidden from view, he made his way forward on foot. Over the years he had learned to trust his instincts and every one of them was on high alert.

His caution was soon rewarded when he found Avalene, but his relief at finding her unharmed was short lived. She was surrounded by more than a score of soldiers, and all wore the colors of Faulke Segrave.

Dante flattened his body against the mossy bark of the tree trunk and muttered under his breath, "And this makes the day perfect."