A Lady's Charade (Medieval Romance Novel) (38 page)

She could hear her captors now. They weren’t very far off in the forest just behind her. They whispered, and their horses walked silently, a twig snapping beneath their hooves every so often.
Oh God!
She ducked down to the ground, crouching low, afraid they might have seen her. But when they made no move to run toward her, nor shout at her, she slowly raised herself from the ground to a hunched over position.

She made quick work of untying the horse, praising and whispering to him as she grabbed his mane and hauled herself to his back. Thank goodness she was a proficient rider, or else she wasn’t sure how she would have been able to climb onto the horse’s back without a saddle to guide her. There was no saddle in sight, and she didn’t have to time to put one on anyway. Urgency filled her. She had to remember to breath.

She crouched low on the horse’s back, hugging his neck, trying to sink into the animal’s form as she slowly led him to the forest edge, then urged him into a full gallop once she broke through the trees. The shouts from the men behind her echoed in her ears. They’d seen her escape. She urged the horse faster, but it refused, slowing to a trot.

“Come on, horse, please, I must escape,” she said desperately, urging the horse on, begging him. She didn’t want them to catch her. Whatever they had planned for her would be worse if they caught her.

But her horse wouldn’t listen! The animal was skittish of the shadows, the snapping of the sticks beneath his hooves, and the rustling of the leaves above.

Chloe cried out at the sound of hoof beats behind her, in front of her, to the sides. It seemed they came from everywhere and all at once. She could just picture being surrounded and hunted down like a stag. They were gaining on her. Her horse slowed down even further at the sound of the others getting closer.

“No, horse! Go, go, go,” Chloe chanted, tears streaming down her face. She panicked, looking all around her. She didn’t know which way to go. Everything looked the same. There was no specific path, and she had no clue which way they’d come from in the first place. She reached behind her and slammed her palm into the horse’s flank, a stinging slap that left her own palm tender. The horse seemed to feel her angst, and picked up speed, barreling forward.

They tore through the forest, Chloe clutching the animal’s neck and hoping the imbeciles that chased her wouldn’t be able to catch up.

She closed her eyes and let the horse lead her, slapping the mare periodically on the flank. A few minutes later the sound of the men behind her disappeared and it was only she and her horse in the woods. She urged her mount forward not willing to see if the men would catch up to her, not caring about why they stopped. Her only goal was to get away, far, far, away.

The tired horse came to a stop abruptly, nearly sending Chloe tumbling to the ground below. She caught herself, sat up on the horses’ back and stared around the forest, trying to see what had made the horse stop moving.

She could see nothing. The sun had now set, and there was nothing visible beyond dark shadows. Above the moonlight came through a few spaces left open by the leaves, but she couldn’t see the stars. Fearing the heathens who chased her possessed a special call that would make the horse stop, she dismounted slowly. Her bare feet protested at the feel of rocks, leaves and broken branches beneath them.

She slapped the horse on the flank one final time ironically, sending the animal on its way now that she no longer rode him. Then she slowly crept into the dense forest, keeping close to the heavy foliage. The hilt of her dagger dug into her skin, she had such a grip on it.

She didn’t know which way to go, or how she would get home. All she knew was that she needed to keep moving forward. Let the men follow the tracks of the horse. They wouldn’t know which direction she’d gone. She only had to worry about any other criminals lurking in the forest. Her bit her lip hard, drawing blood when her hair snagged on a branch, ripping from her scalp. In the darkness she tried to pull the limp pieces from the branches so as not to leave any clues, but she could see hardly anything. Her feet seared with pain at the cuts, and bruises on them. Her temple hurt where her captors had hit her, and her scalp stung from the hair that had been ripped out. All over she ached, and wished only to fall to the forest floor in a heap, cry, and hug herself to sleep. Perhaps death would be a welcome haven to the fear and pain she felt.

No!
Her mind shouted. Wiping the tears from her eyes, Chloe pushed forward. She would persevere. She had to.

****

The men-at-arms tore threw the forest like wraiths bent on devouring the souls of heathens. The sun had begun to set, casting eerie shadows among the trees. The distant howls of wolves and screeches of bats would have sent many a man’s blood running cold. But not them.

No, the only thing that would stop their mission was death. And they’d fight like hell to make sure it wasn’t their lives that succumbed. Peasants and vagabonds ran from the sight of the knights as they tore threw the lands.

Sweat trickled from every pore of Alexander’s body, leaving his skin a slick sheen. His charger breathed heavily beneath him, but showed no signs of a struggle, only the opposite as if Hero knew they were dead set on a fight.

Alexander stared ahead at the dense foliage, and hoped the abductors had been stupid enough to set up their camp close by. They had traveled about three hours from Hardwyck, and Alexander knew if they were smart criminals, they would still be hours away. But he counted on them being quite stupid—after all, they had insulted the dragon.

“Douglas, you have done a good deed for your mistress. When we locate her, you will be rewarded. You will stay with us to identify the men when they are spotted.”

“Aye, my lord, with pleasure. Lady Chloe cured me when I was ill. I would do anything for her.”

Alexander bit his tongue, for his reply would have been that, as his mistress the boy should do anything for her regardless. But he knew how much the people loved Chloe and he did not rebuke the lad, instead he nodded. Drawing his sword and pointing toward the trees, the men drew their horses forward for the steady march through the forest. Alexander whirled his sword in the air, directing his five fastest, slinkiest knights to edge ahead of them as lookouts.

If anyone could spot someone or something amiss it was those five, Jared, Austin, Eugene, Everett and Lowell. A smile began to grow on his face as they marched on. He was glad he had such loyal men and that he’d trained all of his warriors hard and well. They were the elite warriors in all of England, and could march to war in complete silence, following hand signals, or answer to the secret bird calls that he himself had created. He had special units that could break from the group and complete tasks, while still maintaining contact and communication with the rest. He had a gut feeling they would find these wretches sooner, rather than later, and he couldn’t wait to tear them limb from limb.

A bird call ahead indicated that one of his men had sighted something. Alexander edged ahead of the group and gave the signal for his men to slow down but be at the ready.

He nodded to Lowell when he saw him. The knight nodded back and then with his arms showed Alexander where to look. His gaze followed the direction. To the naked and untrained eye, not much could be seen, but to Alexander who had trained fiercely for years, he could make out from the brush and dirt on the ground that recent movement had been made through here. He dismounted and carefully examined the earth. Divots and grooves where indeed in the ground. From the space between the grooves he could discern that it had been from a wagon, just as Douglas indicated. The divots were made by horse hooves.

Remounting his horse, he signaled to his men to turn in the direction the tracking was taking them, and onward they went. Again he heard the bird call, this time from Eugene.

He pointed to his ear, and Alexander listened. He could hear shouts from men. They were distant, but close enough that if Alexander and his men could hear, then whoever made those shouts could likely hear them as well. Alexander held up his hands for the men to stop. He swirled his sword in the air and pointed forward. His five lookouts crept forward, and he kept pace with them, Edward at his side. The remaining men would wait for the signal and then come forward.

As they gained on the shouts, Alexander could make out the distinct voices of three men. He signaled to his five companions to lay low and listen to the unknown men who spoke.

At that, Alexander felt the blood boil within him. They were talking about Chloe. Edward placed a bracing hand on his shoulder, and Alexander realized he was about to burst in on the soon-to-be dead men.

Edward whispered in his ear, his voice so quiet it was almost silent. “They know the direction she went. We must follow them, to find her. Once found, we will tear them apart.”

Alexander nodded, knowing this was the best course of action. There were three men, and seven of them. The men ahead split up in different directions, and the seven of them split up as well, two men to each of their one, and Alexander would move ahead, hoping to find Chloe first.

They dispersed, Alexander letting them know that as soon as she was found, all three criminals were to die.

Every nerve in Alexander’s body was one fire, every sound was Chloe, and he shook his head to gain control. He would be no help to her, if didn’t have his wits about him. He strained to hear any sound that could be human, and his sensitive ears didn’t miss a beat. Drawing his sword slowly, he turned Hero in the direction of the sound. It had been faint, like that of a whimper.

“Chloe?” his voice was quiet, but broke the silence. There was no answer, but the whimpering he heard stopped.

“Chloe, if you can hear me, it is Alexander.” He stopped moving and waited.

From behind a large brush pile he could see movement. Chloe’s angelic face came into view, skeptical at first, and then jubilant. She jumped from the dense foliage, dressed in a barely there film of fabric, and ran to him. He dismounted quickly, sheathing his sword and ran to her, catching her in the air and swirling about. His heart felt like it was going to burst with joy. He actually felt what might be tears stinging his eyes. All he could do was squeeze her to him.

“Chloe, I thought I would never find you.”

“Oh, Alexander, it was so terrible, just hold me.” Her voice, usually so loud and opinionated, was tiny and scared. She shivered in his arms.

“Let me look at you,” he said, putting her at arms length. He frowned as he looked at her torn nightdress, her bloody feet. He gasped at the bruise on her face, kissing it tenderly and then the tender rope burns on her wrists and ankles. “They have hurt you,” he growled pulling her to him again, the tenderness of his touch offsetting the roughness of his voice.

“Only a little. These bruises will heal.” The strength in her voice impressed Alexander.

She was trying to be strong for him. He smiled on the top of her head, and then grasped her face in his hands and kissed her. It was a hungry, furious kiss. The kiss of a man who had almost lost his love. She kissed him back just as hungrily, her hands snaking around his waist, gripping him just as tightly as he held her.

“You’re shivering. I believe one of my men has a blanket for you.” They mounted, with Chloe sitting in front of Alexander, his arm encircling her waist. He wore no armor, and let his heat envelop her.

He had to issue the call to let his men know that he had found her. The six who stalked the heathens would exact their executions, and meet him with the other men. Chloe shuddered when she heard him make the sound.

“The villains have been spotted, my lord. Lowell and Eugene are stalking them now, but we thought you might like to do the honors yourself. Let me take the lady back to camp, so you might exact the punishment yourself.”

Alexander thought for a moment, not wanting to let go of Chloe now that he’d found her. But he still seethed with rage, and felt that if his men carried out his ire in deed, then he would not feel the satisfaction of closure.