His Fair Lady (48 page)

“Guy, remain here. Tell the others where
we’ve gone. Kenric, Harbin, let’s get this gate open and the horses
through.”

Again came the scream, tortured, haunted,
curdling Royce’s blood.

“Catch up with me!” he called, not wasting a
moment further as he headed across the open field toward the
woodland.

Scanning the long stretch of trees where the
forest began, he knew Juliana and Friston could have entered them
at any point. Equally frustrating, the snow lay turned all about,
offering no help, no clear tracks to follow.

His eyes drew to a dark, regular shape
outlined against the moon-brightened snow. A feather. Another lay
just ahead, and shortly beyond, still another. All were of similar
size — chicken feathers, dyed black, like
those on
the
mummer’s costume. Royce smiled. Juliana had left
him a trail to guide his steps.

“I shall not fail you, love,” he swore,
lengthening his stride, following the path she’d marked.

Gaining the woodland’s edge, his thoughts
shifted to Friston. Royce unsheathed his sword and cast himself
onward into the forest, an unholy fury raging through his
heart.

»«

Juliana panted for breath, her lungs
stinging with cold as Friston dragged her with him through the
brush and trees. Still the flood of images came, her past alive
within her once again.

She saw herself bathing in a small chamber,
just off the main hall in Vaux’s manor house. Her mother’s
beautiful voice floated through the partially open door as she sang
a familiar tune and plucked the strings of her lute.

Abruptly, the music stopped. Shouts sounded,
then screams and the clanging of metal. The servants in the back
chamber rushed to peer through the door, as did her nurse Aldis.
Alarmed for her mother, Juliana climbed from the tub, catching up a
towel and hurrying to join the others.

Chaos reigned in the hall, soldiers in black
garb pouring through the front entrance, their swords drawn and
slashing, most within unarmed. The Mandeville men-at-arms ringed
her mother, defending her furiously though sorely outnumbered. One
by one they fell, the rest ever tightening the circle around Lady
Alyce and fighting on.

Another man in black garb moved into view.
He appeared the leader of the rest for he bellowed out orders.
Juliana saw his face only fleetingly as he crossed swords with
Eadric Montfort, captain of the Mandeville guard, the last left
standing now, protecting her mother. Eadric fought skillfully and
with a swipe of his blade sliced open the side of the man’s face.
Just when Eadric would have finished him, another of the attackers
came at him from the side, running him through.

Juliana’s scream mingled with that of her
mother. She watched terrified as Lady Alyce launched herself at the
man with the slashed face. He brought his sword hilt down against
the side of her mother’s head, battering her again and again before
drawing his blade across her throat. Beautiful Alyce fell, tangled
in her veil, her life’s blood soaking the rushes. As the carnage
continued, the man turned in Juliana’s direction, his face
bleeding, firelight glancing off his sword. ‘Twas Rennart de
Friston.

“Come away, come away!” her nurse hissed,
yanking Juliana along by the hand and fleeing out a back door.

Juliana felt another yank to her hand then
realized ‘twas Friston forcing her steps forward through the snowy
forest. Ahead, still at some distance, she saw the flicker of
torchlights through the trees. Her heart lurched as she recognized
their source to be the boats on the river. The Wye lay far nearer
to the game park than she’d thought. Distressingly near.

Her thoughts reached back to Vaux, to when
she and Aldis escaped the manor house and fled for the river that
lay behind it. They first gained cover in a stand of woods midway
between the manor and river. From there, they witnessed further
bloodshed as soldiers spilled out of the manor and began
slaughtering the sheep in their folds and anything else that moved.
Beyond the manor’s enclosure walls, fire engulfed the village and
screams rang out. Juliana could not see what horrors passed
there.

“We must reach the water,” Aldis told her.
“I see two row boats by the mill house. We’ll take one and use the
river to get away. Now, run child, as fast as your feet can carry
you, and pray we’ll not be seen.”

With that, they dashed hand in hand toward
the mill. Reaching the river safely, Aldis worked frantically to
right one of the overturned boats, Juliana helping her. But as they
did, the miller and his family emerged from their house, hearing
the clamor from the village and seeking its cause. Unwittingly,
they drew the soldiers’ attention.

“Quick, under the boat before they see you!”
Aldis ordered Juliana.

Slipping beneath, Juliana clutched the
toweling about her and peered out again. Her eyes met with the
sight of the soldiers converging on the miller, his wife, and
daughters and mercilessly cutting them down. The soldiers then
directed their gazes toward the boats.

Juliana scooted back, shaking violently. She
suddenly realized Aldis was not with her. Hearing the thud of
footsteps passing, she dared to look out again. Dread filled her
soul as she saw Aldis running along the river bank, drawing the
soldiers after her, away from the boat. Within scant minutes, the
men descended on her, their blades slashing, stabbing.

She must have fainted, Juliana realized, for
her next memory was that of Royce, lifting the boat off her. She
was terrified at first. But when he took her up into his arms, she
spied the red Crusader cross upon his shoulder, the same as her
father wore, and knew the young man would not hurt her. God had
sent him expressly to save her.

As she pulled her thoughts from the past and
focused on Friston, anguish fused with anger in Juliana’s
heart.

“You were there! You led the others and
ordered them to kill everyone at Vaux.” She tried to pull free of
his grasp but failed. “You killed my mother and our Mandeville
guards. Why?” she screamed, balling her free hand and striking at
his back, his shoulder, then at his chest as he turned toward
her.

He snared her wrist easily and dragged her
over to a tree, thrusting her against it. “‘Twas their misfortune
and yours to be guests of the Lord of Vaux. I did but repay the
misery wrought on my own lands, my own family.”

“And so you sought revenge?”

“Nay,
justice
. Who could have known that, once Philip
returned from Crusade, I would climb so high in rank, to serve as
minister to his right hand? Or that ‘twould be revealed the wife of
Vaux’s lord had shared blood ties with the king — the king whose
favor I now held?”

Friston’s gloved hand slid up and around
Juliana’s neck, gripping her with a light, deliberate pressure.

“So you see, my sweet, your existence is a
complication. One I cannot abide. You can identify me, place me at
Vaux on that fateful night.”

Juliana grabbed for his hand as he increased
the pressure on her neck. At the same time, she thought to hear a
sound off to her left, a rustling in the bushes. As her attention
returned to Friston, she found him brushing his lips against her
hair.

“‘
Tis a shame I cannot let you live.
You’ve grown to be quite a beauty.”

Juliana shrank at his look, but he took no
notice as he trapped her with his body against the tree.

“I wouldn’t mind having a piece of what you
gave de Warrene,” he breathed at her ear. When she averted her
face, he caught her jaw in his hand and forced her to look at him.
“Come now. Again, the truth is carried in your eyes. You’re no
virgin. Not anymore. You know the game. And the park is for
sporting after all.”

Juliana struggled as he pressed his
lips against her throat, but found she could not win
free
.
Her mind reeled as he
pushed her cloak aside, the sharp air instantly chilling her
through the thinness of her gown. What had he done with his sword?
Juliana wondered wildly. Propped it against the tree, she thought.
But the knives he’d returned to his belt.

Again came the distinct rustling of brush
nearby.

“Something is there. An animal,” she gasped
out, trying to distract him.

“Only a night scavenger. Nothing to
interfere with us.”

Friston started to force his kiss on her,
but the sharp snapping of twigs and low, snorting sounds drew up
his head. As he focused his attention toward the noise, Juliana
seized the moment and grabbed for the knife in his belt, pulling it
out. The Frenchman’s hand shot to hers, deflecting the blade, but
not before it caught him in the side. Recoiling at the pain, his
grip slackened, providing Juliana the opportunity to shove from
beneath him and break free.

Juliana ran blindly through the forest,
swatting away the tangles of growth and low branches. She could
hear Friston hot behind her, cursing as he gave pursuit. Despite
the aid of the bright moonlight, vision remained poor in the woods
with no clear path to see. Juliana followed her instincts as she
hastened on, but moments later her foot caught on something unseen,
sending her sprawling, then tumbling downward.

Juliana screamed as she plunged down an
incline. Instantly she realized ‘twas the ravine that enclosed the
park. Brambles, stones, and woody debris slowed her fall, a thicket
of shrubbery finally stopping her. She raised onto her elbows and
saw Friston standing at the top of the embankment, his blade
glinting. He appeared to search for her, the dim light and brush
concealing her position.

Glancing into the inky depths of the ravine,
Juliana wondered how far it stretched to the bottom and what form
of wildlife might move there. She discarded any idea of scaling
down it in order to reach the other side and climb out. Instead,
she returned her attention to the rim of woods overhead.
Cautiously, she began climbing upward, at a wide angle, moving away
from Friston and back in the direction of the wall that surrounded
the keep.

Just as she gained the top, successfully
eluding the Frenchman, she heard a thrashing in the bushes, then
saw something large and dark trot through the brush. ‘Twas the size
of a sheep. Only sheep were not so massive or with humped backs.
Nor did they grunt or snort like this animal.

“Oh God, no, not again!” she muttered
beneath her breath, catching a glimpse of the animal’s hideous
mouth, its teeth bristling. ‘Twas a boar. Was there something about
her that drew these creatures? she wondered, frantic. But as she
mentally took hold of herself, she perceived a way to use the
creature to her advantage.

Quickly, Juliana felt for rocks and sticks —
anything she could throw and that would carry a distance. She then
looked about for a sturdy tree — the nearest one she could climb
that would give her refuge. Deciding on one at the edge of the
ravine, she began to move toward it.

She still had a short distance to reach the
tree when Friston came into view. If only she could draw the boar’s
attention to the Frenchman — throw the rocks and sticks close to
where he stood, create enough noise to seize the animal’s interest.
With luck, the boar would attack, possibly disable him or worse.
Would that make her a murderess if the pig should kill him? Yet, if
she did nothing, Friston would certainly kill her.

Before Juliana could think further on it,
Friston shouted out, seeing her, and started toward her. He made
sufficient noise to attract the pig, still it made no attempt to
charge. Worse, the Frenchman was closing on her own position. She’d
no wish to find herself at the end of its tusks. Frustrated at the
beast’s passivity, she hurled several stones into the bushes at it,
hoping to rile its temper. A high, discordant squeal told her she
had.

Juliana’s heart quickened with excitement
and dread, seeing Friston turn toward the creature as it emerged
from the bushes, obviously maddened. Quickly, she ran for the tree,
scrambling up and onto its lowermost branch. She began to climb
higher, then halted at the bellow of a man’s voice. ‘Twas not the
Frenchman she heard, but Royce!

“Friston!” Royce roared as he appeared in
the clearing, his sword braced before him as he faced the
Frenchman, unaware of the danger nearby. “Where is my lady? What
have you done with her, cur?”

Desperately, Juliana sought the wild pig but
could not immediately spot it. Still, the danger was no less. She’d
stirred the beast, and once it set its narrow mind to attack, it
would do so, undeterred. But instead of having one target, it now
had two. The boar could kill either man, or both, with a swipe of
its tusks.

“Royce!” she cried out. “There’s a boar in
the brush!”

At the sound of her voice, Royce glanced in
her direction, distracted. Instantly, Friston sprang forward, his
sword slashing. Royce met Friston’s steel with his own, their
blades clanging as he warded off the blow then rained down one of
his own. Together the two knights battled, their swords ringing as
they hammered and hewed at one another.

Juliana watched, her heart frozen in her
throat as the men warred on, a deadly match that could have but one
end. A shrill squeal jarred her from the scene. ‘Twas then she
spied the boar to the right of the men, at a short distance, pawing
the ground and clashing its tusks over its teeth.

Realizing it was poised to attack, Juliana
started to climb from the tree, yelling and tossing sticks as she
did, trying to divert the beast’s attention to herself. But it
ignored her fully. Single-minded, the boar drove toward the two
men, its ears pricked and eyes rolled back as it entered the fray.
For a moment the forms melted together in the dim light, men and
beast scuffling, then a horrid scream rent the air — a human
scream. One of the men suddenly rose up, his form separating from
the others as he gripped his sword by the pommel and plunged it
downward. A hideous squealing followed, then silence.