A Lady's Charade (Medieval Romance Novel) (4 page)

What had her father done?

She may have been a woman of tender age, but even at eighteen she knew right from wrong and a lie from the truth.

Judging from the onslaught of military might hailing at them from beyond the castle walls, South Hearth did not belong free and clear to the Fergusson clan as announced by her father.

The English were claiming it back.

Her chest heaved with labored breaths. Her heart raced a staccato inside her chest. Between the two she was sure her ribs would burst at any moment. South Hearth had been her childhood home. She could almost here her father as he’d ranted at supper that evening, “
One day, when I am gone, you and your husband will rule the Fergusson clan, and South Hearth shall remain in Scots hands, not bloody English scum!”
Her father had the best of intentions for the clan, she was sure. He was more of a man of action rather than thought. And on more than one occasion she was clear he cared more for himself and his reputation than her future. Trying to claim back South Hearth would only create a lifetime of struggle for her as a leader. But then again, he wanted her to marry his second in command, so perhaps he didn’t fear that she’d have to deal with it, but her husband. But she’d made a decision that afternoon by the pond. For as long as she could, she would refuse his wishes. Not even if they dragged her bound and gagged to the altar would she marry Angus.

“My lady!” shrieked Nicola. The woman rushed into the room, tripping on her own gown before lifting it with trembling hands. “Come, we must go.”

“Wh-what?” Leave? She couldn’t run away. Not from her parents, her people, her duties. She may not want to marry whom her parents chose for her, but that didn’t mean she would desert the clan altogether.

“Your parents have instructed me to hide you away. Come now, they said they’d be along. We must hurry.” Nicola’s French accent grew heavier with her own fear.

“Oh,
mon dieu
, they are upon us! Their leader intends to take back the castle and marry you! Away, we must be away!” She turned about the room, and paced, like a hen looking for her chicks, but not actually seeing what surrounded her.

“Nicola!” She didn’t mean to shout, but she needed the woman to regain some sense.

The maid stopped her mindless circling and grasped Chloe on the wrist. “This way,
ma cherie
.”

She pulled back the tapestry on the wall of Chloe’s fantasy knight, opened the secret panel and pushed Chloe inside. The corridor was dark and musty. The air so thick with age it choked her. She coughed and put her hand on the wall to steady herself. Something small and hairy crawled across her fingertips. She shrieked.

“My lady,
non
! You must be silent, else they hear you.” Nicola shut the panel door, grasped Chloe’s hand and pulled her through the darkness.

What seemed like hours passed, until finally, they reached the end. They squeezed through a tight rocky opening, pushed back foliage, and emerged into the woods beyond South Hearth’s castle walls. From what she knew, the enemy lay in wait all around her. She bit her lip to keep from whimpering.

Nicola motioned her forward, and together they walked stealthily south for several hours, not stopping for a break, fear of being attacked their motivation to keep going. Two old nags tied to a tree in the middle of the forest came into view. Nicola indicated for her to mount one, while she mounted the other. They continued their journey south in silence, well into the night. Why were they headed South? They were for sure well into England now. When it was nearly dawn they pulled to a stop outside a small abandoned croft.

“Your parents told us to stay here. They will rendezvous with us by morning.” Nicola opened the door and hustled her inside.

“But we are in England,” Chloe said, stating the obvious.

“
Oui
, my lady. Your
maman
thought it safest.”

Chloe shivered. “Can we light a fire, I’m chilled.”

“
Non
, my lady. ‘Twill only bring attention. Here you must change into this.” Nicola handed her a pile of clothes and a cloak. “Peasant clothes, no one will recognize you.”

Her maid set out a meager meal of bread, cheese and watered wine. “Eat when you are ready,
ma cherie
. Rest. Lord and Lady Fergusson will fetch us very soon.”

Very soon
turned into weeks. Chloe was scared, nervous. An emotional disaster. Not knowing what had become of anything left her hands a wringing mess. Had the English army massacred her parents? Her clan? Was anyone left?

Their supplies depleted and with nothing to eat, Nicola and Chloe decided it was best to hunt for whatever berries, nuts, roots and other vegetation they could find.

They tried to find berries, but it was now December, and there was no hope of foraging. Chloe had only a dagger, and no bow and arrows with which to hunt. Their bellies rolled with hunger.

“My lady, do you hear that?” Nicola asked.

Chloe listened, and in the distance could hear the sounds of horse’s hooves, men thrashing through the brush. “
Maman!
Papa!”

They rushed back to the croft, but stopped short, Nicola running into Chloe’s back. Sitting atop horses in front of the hut, was a frightening sight. These men were not her parents, nor were they from her clan. They were English. Knights, and what looked like a lord, with a wrinkled face of nearly sixty summers, who sat front and center, a thick ermine cloak covering his rakish figure.

Dressed in peasants clothing, the lord would not have been able to recognize that Chloe was indeed of noble birth, and lucky for her, her French accent hid her Scottish heritage.

“Yes.”

“Are we not at war with the French?” A few of his men snickered. Some licked their lips with anticipation, like they were going to eat her alive.

She nodded. “But you see, my father was English, and I feel the blood of England flows through my veins much richer then that of the French.”

The old lord laughed. The sound was brittle and made him cough. He had wisps of gray hair the fluttered with the wind. His cheek bones were prominent, jutting out of his face. “Then I should not kill you?”

“No!” she lamented.

Nicola whimpered behind her.

“Very well. Perhaps I can take you to my village where you will be much safer and more comfortable. Hmm?” His offer was enticing, but there was something inherently foreboding about the man. A shiver raced along her spine. But then Nicola’s stomach growled, and hers did in turn. “Two women, alone should not be walking about the forest. Have you not heard the news?”

“News?” Chloe echoed, still trying to formulate in her mind if they should run or go with this man.

“Aye. A band of Scottish heathens is running about these parts. They tried, only the Lord knows why, to take back the English stronghold of South Hearth. Simpletons, brigands, savages, they are.”

They gathered their sad mounts and what little belongings they had, and set out with the knights. They rode their horses for hours, and still the lord and his knights had not offered them a morsel to eat. The sun faded beneath the sky when they made camp.

The men set about making fires, handing out provisions and setting up crude tents. When yet again no one offered them food, drink or sleeping space, Chloe grew wary. Why had the lord offered to take them along if he was only going to ignore them?

“Ladies, please.” The lord’s brittle voice rang out in the night as he indicated for them to come and sit beside him near the fire.

Hands clasped together, Nicola and Chloe approached, then sat on the cold ground. One knight passed them a jug of wine, another some oatcakes, and another dried meat.

Chloe tried with all her might not to tear into the food, but she couldn’t help it, she was ravenous. The men spoke softly, their lecherous eyes roving over the women as they spoke, telling stories of their time overseas fighting the French and then back home fighting the Scots. They told of how they’d tortured, burned, raped and pillaged. Chloe tried desperately to listen, learn some news about her family, but she couldn’t distinguish one tale from the other. And the vile things they said had her mind reeling.

Her nerves were so frazzled, and her bladder full. If they had to run into the night to escape these would be rapists, they would. It was becoming more and more obvious that the men had not taken them along to help them, but for much worse. “Nicola, let us freshen up in the woods,” she whispered to her maid.

“
Oui
.”

“If you’ll excuse us, my lord.”

“With pleasure.” But the smile on his face was not pleasant, it was sinister in fact.

When they broke through the trees at the edge of the clearing, Chloe grasped Nicola’s hand in hers and they started to run. But the men were fast and on their heels. One grasped Nicola’s mantel ripping it from her.

Chloe tripped and fell to the ground, kicking out at her assailants.

“
S’enfuir! S’enfuir pour sauver sa peau!
” Nicola screamed.

And run for her life, she did. Chloe scrambled to her feet and took off, the screams of her maid, grunts and laughter of the men echoing in her ears. One brittle, laugh rang out most of all, followed by hacking coughs.

****

Something nibbled on her fingers. No pecked.

Chloe opened her eyes and shooed away the black crow that pecked at the blood on her fingertips from where she’d grasped and grabbed at the ground—rocks and sticks tearing the flesh from her. Then she stilled and listened.

Nothing but the sounds of nature greeted her.

She shivered, her eyes swollen and achy from the tears she’d cried. She had no more tears to cry. Somehow in the night she’d built a thick stone wall around her heart, her mind.
Poor, poor Nicola
. She choked, bile rising in her throat, then turned her head quickly, coming to all fours as she retched.

Her companion was dead.

And she knew who to blame. If only she had a name to go with his face.

One day, I swear to the Lord in Heaven, I will have my revenge.

Chloe stood on shaky legs and picked her way through the forest. Unknowingly, she’d gone in a wide circle, and only realized it when she broke through the trees and saw the remnants of the camp. The only thing left, besides rubbish, was her horse. She took a moment to make sure she was alone, and then rushed the animal, burying her face in its side, breathing in its musky, sweaty scent.

She climbed onto his back and not knowing which way was north or south, headed straight.

Hours later, her toes long since numb, body aching, decidedly set on no longer moving, Chloe sat in a heap on the muddy ground, shaded by the oak trees of the forest behind her. Although she had no motivation to continue forward, fear still filled her heart. She was so utterly alone and vulnerable. A whirlwind had picked her up, tossed her about, and dumped her into a living hell. If she hadn’t been sure she was still alive, she might believe she was walking in the very depths of purgatory. What sin had she committed to suffer so?

Oh, there were plenty of sins she could think of. Speaking with a French accent, when she was Scots—well half Scots anyway—had been her father’s major complaint. The man cared not a wit that her mother was born and raised in Versailles. Allowing a couple of young beaus to steal kisses from her at the French court—Nicola had thrashed her with her tongue about that.
Oh Nicola…
She could still hear her maid’s screams echoing in her ears.

Perhaps this was a test of her fortitude.

In the distance, she could see a village. But she just didn’t have the energy to keep moving. A high wall surrounded the village, much like the one at South Hearth. Had she come full circle?

The high wall protecting the village, only furthered her fear of being on the outside. Such a high wall for fortification certainly meant the town was often under attack, didn’t it? Every sound set her on edge. She supposed most towns had some form of protection, but never before had she cause to speculate.

Was she being stalked by a man or beast, ready to jump her when she least expected it? Chloe shivered at the thought even more as the wind picked up around her. Her eyes, wide with trepidation, surveyed the area. She didn’t dare blink.

She didn’t want to cry for fear her tears would freeze onto her cheeks, already numb from the cold.

Her brother had always said when danger lurks the birds stop singing. She heard no birds. The logical side of her said it was winter, so there would be no birds about. But the part of her that was filled with fear refused to listen to reason.

At every noise the horse’s ears perked up and he snorted, setting her more on edge than she already was.

Moisture from where Chloe’s body warmed the frozen earth began collecting into the fabric of her peasant clothing. Goosebumps covered her skin from the winter chill and she shivered as a slight breeze passed over her. The thin hood she wore over her braided hair afforded little warmth.