His Fair Lady (14 page)

Pleased, Ana smiled again, wondering why
she’d not thought of the plan before now. ‘Twas far less dangerous
than taking to the forests or purloining horses. Best of all, as
regarded her sacred oath, she’d not be breaking it. She’d be merely
stepping off the roadway to enter a church.

Her mind decided, Ana knew what she must do.
When the group came upon the next church, she need only reach the
church doors in order to claim sanctuary. No longer did one need to
actually enter the church and gain the altar itself, as in times
past. They need only reach the outer doors of the church. Some
buildings even possessed an iron ring, affixed in the stone of the
church’s facade. One need only grip hold of the ring and proclaim
sanctuary in order to gain the church’s protection.

Hope, mingling with anticipation, swelled in
her breast. Her plan would work. It must. However, she’d a far
better chance of success if she could garner someone’s help —
someone who could slow the knight. ‘Twas forgone that he’d give
pursuit, and he could easily outrun her. Given Sir Royce’s size and
strength, perhaps she should enlist the aid of several
“someones.”

Pensively, Ana drew her gaze over the other
travelers. Many of the faces had changed. The good sisters had left
their company in Rouen, as had the master mason and stone cutters
who’d journeyed there to work on the cathedral of St. Ouen.
Piperel, too, remained in the city, though Guy of Lisors traveled
on, ever entertaining them with his lute and verse.

On reflection, Ana realized that most of
those who’d set forth from Le Mans — those who’d been with them at
the time Sir Royce slayed the boar and had been impressed with his
courage and skill — would be averse to challenging him in any way.
On the other hand, there were newcomers amongst them who’d not
witnessed the feat, having only just joined their party. Even when
they heard the tale, they’d likely think it much embellished. There
was not even the swine itself to give proof to the story, having
been eaten many leagues back.

Ana’s gaze paused over two of the newest
members of their troop — a pair of wild-looking Scotsmen in their
strange, voluminous wrappings. They wore their hair and beards long
and shaggy and wound great lengths of plaid cloth about their
persons, these over saffron-colored shirts with baggy sleeves.
Their legs they left bare, and they wore rawhide shoes, ankle high.
Both men were of a good size, she observed, not so large as the
knight, but they appeared to be hardy and strong enough to hinder
Sir Royce for a space of time. Despite all, she hoped they wouldn’t
hurt the knight too badly.

Ana suddenly realized the Scotsmen were
snatching looks her way, one then the other, interest etching their
eyes. ‘Twas not uncommon for her to draw the interest of strangers,
owing to her hair. Many found its moon-pale color a great
curiosity. Perhaps she could use that attraction to her advantage,
she considered. If she could play upon whatever protective
instincts these Scotsmen might harbor toward the gentler sex,
convince them that the knight did ill by her, then mayhap they
would be of a mind to help her.

Ana studied the men more closely, assured
they’d be able to delay Sir Royce long enough for her to gain the
church doors and claim sanctuary. She could picture the scene in
her mind’s eye. Oh, but the knight would be furious when she
outwitted him. Her lips curved upward at the thought.

“Does something amuse you?” Sir Royce asked,
glancing back at her once more.

Ana straightened her posture, easing her
hold on his middle, which, perturbingly, she’d tightened again.

“I’d a pleasant thought, ‘tis all,”
she tossed back, feeling lighthearted and well amused. “I do prefer
to walk for a time and join in the song. The others are beginning
a
rondeau
, I see.”

Sir Royce sent her a suspicious glance, then
gave a shrug. “I suppose it could do no harm. We’ll both walk.”

Reining Hannibal to a halt, the knight
dismounted, then aided her down.

Ana quickly removed her boots before taking
a further step, for her feet still pained her. Wiggling her toes,
she gave forth a contented sigh. “Ah, freedom,” she uttered,
drawing a sharp look from the knight.

Ana caught up her boots and started
forward, not caring what he might think. Instead, she bent her
attention to where the Scotsmen took part in the
rondeau
, singing loudly and off-key
in their odd, warbly voices. The sounds grated on her ears, but
when they stole a glance her way, she only smiled. In the next
instant, their eyes shifted to the knight’s and they turned
frontward again, continuing in their song without a further glance
toward her.

Glancing to Sir Royce, Ana saw the
menacing look he’d just sent them still darkening his face.
Impossible, arrogant man, she simmered, pelting dark thoughts his
way. Well, a little look would not daunt
these
rough-hewn Scotsmen, she was sure. Nor would it her.

Ana fixed her smile in place, demonstrating
to the knight that his intimidations and overbearing manners did
not faze her. Inside, however, her thoughts grew more anxious. With
each passing hour, her plight became more desperate. Once she and
the knight reached the coast and boarded a ship for England,
‘twould be impossible to make her way back on her own. All hope
would be lost.

»«

Ana’s chance to speak with the Scotsmen came
when the band paused on the outskirts of a small village to water
their animals and refresh themselves.

While Sir Royce saw to some pebbles that had
collected in Hannibal’s hooves, she made her way toward the bright
little stream that flowed just beyond a stand of beech trees. She
strove to make her movements appear natural and unsuspicious.
Trailing behind a small number of their companion travelers, she
kept somewhat apart of them, making sure the Scotsmen saw that she
was approachable.

The two stood a little downstream,
downing some form of drink she’d heard them call
uisge beatha
. Ana bent to the
stream, sending them a glance they could not miss, then splashed
her face with water and sleeved away the droplets. Rising, she sent
them what she hoped was an utterly forlorn look, then went to sit
by the trunk of one of the towering beech trees. Mindful, she
settled on the stream side of the tree, out of the knight’s
view.

Scarcely a minute passed, but the
woolly-looking Scotsmen stared boldly her way, exchanging several
words between them. Wiping their mouths, they started toward her,
disregarding the knight’s earlier warnings, as she predicted they
would. At their approach, Ana caught up the hem of her skirt and
dabbed at the side of one eye, as though to catch a tear.

“Does somethin’ distress ye, m’lady?” the
older of the two, possessing a mass of fiery red hair, inquired as
they came to a stop by the tree.

Ana kept her lashes demurely lowered. “I am
not a lady, not a real lady, but only a humble maid of Chinon and a
most anguished one at that.” She wiped at her eyes again.

“How so, lass? Who causes ye sooch
distress?” he pressed.

“Yon knight does.” She sniffled and gestured
past the trunk, back in the direction of Sir Royce. “He took me
from my home, my family, the very steps of the church.”

“The kirk steps?” The second man, dark and
thick-chested, squinched his eyes and brows, his tone appalled.

Ana nodded, miserable.
“
Oui
, on my wedding
day.”

“Och, what gall and a cursed thing tae do,”
declared the first man.

“My betrothed is heartbroken, as am I. He
waits for me even now.” Ana slipped a peek at the men, finding
disappointment in their eyes at the mention of a wedding and a
bridegroom. She sniffled all the more loudly. “He waits for me upon
the church steps, day and night, unwilling to leave them. But alas,
‘tis all in vain.”

“‘
Tis a bluidy outrage,” clamored the
dark-haired man.

“But that is the least of it.” She raised
doleful eyes to theirs.

“There be more, lass?” The two exchanged
glances.

Ana slipped a glance around the tree trunk,
toward where Sir Royce attended Hannibal. He appeared engrossed
with some matter concerning the stallion’s hoof and unconcerned
with her at the moment. Ana returned her gaze to the Scotsmen, then
nodded meekly.

“The knight takes me to England as a bridal
prize to present to an ancient lord across the water. I—” She
allowed her voice to catch. “I am to be no more than a slave to a
man’s, er, earthly needs.”

“Earthly
needs?” The red-haired man canted his head.

“I mean earthy, his earthy cravings.” She
looked from one to another, finding their looks nothing short of
dense. “Uh, base desires. His passions.”

The younger man’s face brightened. “Och, ye
mean the man wishes tae—”

“Och, she knows wha’ she means.” The older
man jabbed him with his elbow, then turned back to Ana. “Dinna fash
yersel’, lass. Ian and I will put an end tae the knight’s foul
schemes.” He started to move off.

“Nay, not here or now, good sirs. Sir Royce
de Warrene is a man of great skill and will lop off your heads in
an instant if he reaches his sword. Even if he doesn’t, no one will
aid you. The knight takes me with the express approval of King
John. He carries papers bearing the king’s seal.”

“John Softsword? Och, there be the devil’s
spawn.” The older man spat in the dirt, the other after him.

Ana nodded gravely. “The same. But there is
a way to foil their plans — the king’s, the knight’s, and the
ancient lord’s.”

“Ye may count on us, lass. We’re
listenin’.”

Ana stood to her feet and gazed back at the
knight. He appeared to be done with Hannibal and wiped his hands on
a cloth. At the same time, he cast his glance about, undoubtedly
seeking her. Ana turned back to her companions, knowing she must
speak quickly.

“Such brave men you are. Very well then,
this is what I have in mind . . .”

»«

Juliana was up to something. Royce could
smell it in the air. See it in the glow of her face. If that was
not enough, he’d been garnering dark looks for the past hour.
Curiously, they were leveled at him from those newest to their
company, particularly the two barbarous-looking Scotsmen.

Royce pondered that, scanning the horizon
and the rolling landscape, awash with burgundies and golds. High
overhead, a hawk circled with easy, gliding grace.

He drew his thought back. Perhaps
‘twas the ugly bruise spreading over the left half of his face that
drew the frown — the bruise
and
the speculations amongst their new companions as to how he’d
gained it. Yet, that wouldn’t explain the looks of disapproval —
censure, really — that he thought to read in their eyes.

The Scotsmen — Ian and Malcolm MacGregor by
name, he’d learned — had exchanged words with Juliana by the
stream. They’d moved off once Royce had finished with Hannibal and
started toward the maid. What might they have discussed, he
wondered. Despite Juliana’s recent oath, he far from trusted her.
On the other hand, the maid could be amazingly naïve at times. Was
she unaware of the Scotsmen’s keen interest in her? Had she not
seen the wolfish looks in their eyes?

Royce sharpened his gaze over the men,
taking their measure, then decided he best keep a close eye on
them. At least Juliana’s mood had improved for the moment, and for
that he was grateful. Yet, ‘twas not necessarily a good sign, he
conceded. In recent days, her apparent happiness was naught but a
prelude to new mischief. Best he redouble his vigilance concerning
the maid. She was far too clever for her own good.

Just then the tinsmith who’d recently joined
them sent Royce the blackest of looks. He blinked at that,
wondering what he’d done to bring such disfavor. In recent days,
he’d been hailed as a hero for saving the maid and slaying the
vicious boar single-handedly. Now, ‘twould seem, he was regarded as
something akin to a species that fed at the bottom of a lake.

»«

The woodlands progressively diminished
as the travelers entered the Bray region with its flat, open
stretches, broken periodically by valleys and streams. It was only
after crossing the Somme River that they came upon another forested
area. According to Sir Royce, ‘twas the
Forét de Crécy
.

The trees soon disappeared once more, but in
time the group came to a small wooded valley. As the road dipped
downward, Ana caught sight of a building of pale limestone set
against a backdrop of golden foliage. By its lofty belfry, pricking
at the sky, she knew it at once to be a church.

Ana’s excitement rose and doubled. ‘Twas the
first church they’d come across since she’d laid her plans. On the
other hand, she knew her companions had no intentions of halting
here, for there remained ten miles yet to travel before reaching
their destination of Nouvion.

It mattered not, Ana decided. She must seize
the opportunity waiting for her here in the valley. There might not
be another such occasion this day.

As the group trod on, following the road
into the valley, drawing ever nearer to the church, Ana studied it
intently. It sat back from the road further than she might have
hoped to find, but ‘twas not at an impossible distance. The
architecture itself delighted the eye with elaborate carved
moldings upon its facade and a great semicircular tympanum,
sculpted with figures, crowning the entrance. What interested Ana
most, however, were the two great double doors, which she could see
clearly now.