Knight Errant (13 page)

“Fra Giovanni, this Sir Robert Clarwyn, Baron Ravensmere, envoy from my cousin the king of England.” She gestured between him and the monk. “I have agreed to accompany Fra Giovanni, the archbishop of Palermo’s emissary, to His Excellency’s country home to lend what aid I may to a clerk who has fallen ill. I request that you accompany me.”

She smiled at him as if she were truly glad to see him. The knot in his stomach tightened. Robert snorted. “And if there is no sick clerk?”

“Should that happen, I shall thank heaven for his recovery, then you and I will return here.”

Something was not right. Without prompting, she was promising to return to the beguinage. Also, when she had had such trouble with men of the church, why did she not doubt this archbishop’s emissary? The monk could be one of Basti’s spies or some other kidnapper. Robert’s delusions about his own father had taught him how appearances could deceive.

“I am glad you wish my escort,” he said. “Because I insist on accompanying you, so that you will have an escort on your return journey.” He spoke to Juliana but looked at Fra Giovanni, daring the man to object.

The monk smiled genially. “Of a certainty, you must come with us, Baron Ravensmere.”

Henry was called to ready Robert’s destrier. Soon he was in the saddle, and the party rode out of the beguinage. Suspecting the worst and hoping he was wrong, Robert made plans for every situation he could imagine.

They rode west from Palermo toward Mount Caputo and then south through a narrow valley bordered by rocky wooded hills that rose on either side. Toward midday they left the valley for the hillsides. The terrain was steep and the riding difficult, but by late evening they had reached the dale where the archbishop had his country home. They dismounted near the stables.

“Come,
Sorella
Juliana
, Sir Robert, we will eat. Then you may tend the clerk.”

Robert took careful note of the position of buildings and the numbers and placement of guards before following Fra Giovanni into the house.

“I could not possibly eat until I assure myself of the clerk’s condition,” Juliana protested.

“As you wish,” the monk agreed smoothly.

A servant was called to guide her to the clerk’s room, but the man advised Fra Giovanni that for the first time in days, the clerk was sleeping peacefully
.

When the monk began to insist, Juliana intervened.

“Let the man sleep. Rest is a most effective treatment for all ills.”

“Then allow me to provide food.”

“Verily, I thank you, for I am famished.”

The monk grinned. “This way.”

The bastard is certainly pleased with himself.
Fra Giovanni wanted Juliana to sup and when she refused, the monk gained his desires by appearing to give her what she thought she wanted.
Life with Juliana would be much easier if I could be as deceptive as that monk.
Possibly all was as the monk and his servants claimed, but Robert refused to let his guard down.

They enjoyed a light repast before being escorted to their separate chambers for the night.

Robert had objected to Juliana being cloistered in the women’s quarters. Fra Giovanni had refused to make other arrangements until she gently suggested that she should be as near as possible to the sick man. It seemed that concern for the archbishop’s clerk overrode any nefarious plans the monk may have had for Juliana, and he agreed to arrange a cot for her in a small antechamber.

The monk took Robert farther down the hallway to another chamber. They exchanged courtesies until the bells rang to signal prayers at Compline, and Fra Giovanni excused himself.

Robert shut his door almost all the way. He stood listening beside the scarcely noticeable space. He planned to be in this room no longer than it took for the household to fall asleep. He would guard Juliana’s safety at all costs. To do otherwise would be to confirm that he was like his father—completely lacking in honor where women were concerned and driven by base need.

He waited until he heard no sounds within the house, then eased open the door. He slipped into the hallway and, keeping to the shadows, made his way silently to where he’d left Juliana. As he neared, he saw the door ajar.

A small cry of protest came from within.

Robert leapt down the hallway and burst through the door just as a heavy
thud
sounded.

Kneeling on the floor, Juliana looked up from where Fra Giovanni had fallen. She gripped a sliver candleholder. “Robert.” She uttered the cry at a whisper, but it was a cry nonetheless. In moments, he held her tightly.

“Did he hurt you?” he growled.

“Nay, I did not give him time to touch me.”

“Did you kill him?”

“I do not think so.”

“What of the clerk?”

“He is not here. Fra Giovanni told me so before he announced that though I was an evil creature, he would bless me with the seed from his body. That’s when I hit him.”

“Bastard.”

“Worse than that, he is Basti’s tool and intended to leave with me for Rome while you slept.”

“I am sorry.”

She swallowed to clear her throat. “Thank you, but I am not. He got no more than he deserved. We must leave and quickly.”

Robert released his hold on her. “First let me check our host. ’Twould be difficult if he rouses too soon.”

While he bent over the monk, Juliana gathered her belongings and went to stand by the door.

“What did you do?” she asked.

“I’ve tied and gagged him with cloth torn from the bed hangings.”

“Excellent. There is a door to the yard over here.”

Under cloudy skies, they made their way in silence to the stables and were lucky enough to encounter no one. Juliana kept watch while Robert saddled the horses and muffled their hooves with rags. He handed her the mare’s reins, then pointed toward an exit at the back of the stables.

“But the gate is over there,” she whispered.

“Aye, and ’twill be watched. We must find a postern and leave that way,” he whispered back.

“And if that, too, is watched?”

“’Tis likely to have only one guard, if that, and I can deal silently with one man.”

Taking care to be quiet and watch for guards, they made their way along the wall until they found the unguarded postern. The gate opened with very little noise. Leading the horses, they picked their way carefully over the rocky ground that separated the country home from the hills a league distant.

They had covered half the distance when a shout went up from the house.

“Our departure is discovered. We must hurry.” Robert grasped Juliana about the waist and lifted her into her saddle, then bent to remove the cloth from the horses’ hooves and tossed the rags behind a nearby bush.

“At least we still have the cover of the clouds. They do not yet know where we are.”

“But not for long.” Robert leapt to his saddle and pointed toward the sky.

Juliana followed his gesture to see the moon edging out from behind its cloudy curtain.

“Oh no.”

“The moment that moonlight strikes your white horse we will be as visible as if we had a beacon to light the way.”

Juliana wasted no time in reply but set her mare to a ground-eating lope.

Robert sent his destrier thundering after her, praying they would reach the hills in time to lose their pursuers. He held to the pace of her smaller mount, using himself and his larger horse to shelter Juliana. So swift a ride over unfamiliar terrain in the dark held as many dangers as a hoard of pursuers. One misstep could break a neck, but given the consequences of being caught, a broken neck was worth the risk.

They raced onward. Still, the sounds of pursuit grew closer with each stride. He could see the mare was tiring. Arrows flew past his head. As Juliana’s steed continued to fail, he shifted the reins to one hand and with the other plucked her from her saddle to place her facing him on the broad pommel of his saddle.

“Hold on,” he yelled.

He waited only to feel her arms tighten around his waist, then urged the destrier to even greater speed. Fury washed through him. He wanted to kill the men who placed Juliana in such danger. But first he had to get her to safety.

Mother of God, help us find cover quickly
. He headed away from the trail to Palermo, hoping to create false confidence in their pursuers. He knew quite well where he was, but they would believe him to be lost. To make the deception work, he must first elude them.

The howls from the pack of men sounded entirely too close. Robert spied a dip in the hillside and rode hard for it. He splashed over a small stream and turned to follow a rocky cleft that time had carved in the hill. Sharp cliffs rose on both sides, blocking the moonlight.

The pursuers’ shouts echoed off the walls of the passage. He dodged between a pair of rocks, away from the stream and out of sight of the pack. He had to find shelter soon. His gelding could not keep this pace for much longer.

“On your left. I think I see a space.” Juliana’s words flew at him. “It’s behind us now.”

Robert hauled on the reins, guiding the horse at her direction. A bush blocked the way. He shifted his weight and tightened his thighs until the destrier leapt and cleared the bush. They hit the ground with a jarring
thud
and nearly ran headlong into the cliff face. He reined in hard, and the gelding turned, missing the wall by a hair. The awkward movement threw Robert off balance, and he crashed against the stone. Juliana grunted at the impact.

“Left again.”

Robert complied, spying the narrow gorge in that moment. He ordered the steed into the space. Instantly, the sounds of pursuit became muffled. With moonlight blocked, the gorge was darker than pitch. The horse had to step with slow care.

Dotted with boulders and brush, eventually the way broadened. The moon cast huge shadows and distorted perception. Sounds of pursuit had ceased some time ago. But rage still flooded Robert. Half of him wished the pack would catch them so he could gut each and every one of the men. The saner half knew he would be lucky to get Juliana back to the beguinage in one piece. Robert moved from rock to bush to rock, winding and shifting his path in an attempt to confuse any followers. Sometime later, he stumbled upon a shallow cave.

Keeping to the shadows, he reined to a halt and observed the lay of the land. The cliff face would guard their backs. Approach from the front was restricted by the slim crevasse through which they had just traveled. The place was defensible against a small number. If a large group attacked, he would just have to slit Juliana’s throat to save her a more painful fate and then kill as many of the attackers as possible before he died, too. His breath stopped for a moment at the thought of Juliana dead. The rage that sustained him since her capture faltered in the face of fear that she might die by his hand.

He could not let her die, and if that meant he never took revenge on those who sought to capture her, so be it. Her safety came first. This place was as safe as any other the night would provide.

The horse huffed, drawing in great gulps of air. The destrier needed rest and water. Robert ached in every bone. Juliana must feel ten times his pain. She could scarce be used to such hard riding. She was strangely silent, he thought, as he shifted to help her to the ground.

Blood trickled from a cut on her forehead, where a lump formed. More blood oozed from a band of scrapes across one cheek and dripped down her neck. Below that, from shoulder to wrist of one arm, her sleeve lay in shreds, dotted with flecks of dirt and a darker red.

“Juliana?”

She slipped sideways, and he caught her before she fell. ’Twas a wonder she had not fallen off during their escape. He struggled to lower them both to the ground. That the horse was too exhausted to object to the awkward process was a dubious blessing.

He carried Juliana into the cave, checked for sign of animal inhabitants, then searched her for more injuries. Try though he might, he could find nothing but scrapes and bruises. What had happened to her? Could he have done anything to prevent it? He knew he could not, and fury rippled through him once more that the monk and his men had dared threaten her well-being. He clenched his fists against the urge to strike out.

He forced gentleness into his hands and made her as comfortable as possible. Then he went back to the horse for his small store of water and a cloth to clean her cuts as best he could. Close inspection of her face showed him parched lips.

Robert soaked a clean corner of the cloth and squeezed a trickle of water between her lips, then passed the dampened rag over her mouth. Her tongue licked out, and a groan issued as she turned her head to follow the moisture.

“Juliana? Can you hear me?”

Her eyelids fluttered open. “Robert,” she croaked and lifted the hand of her uninjured arm to her face. “My head hurts. My whole body hurts, and my arm feels like it is on fire.”

He nearly laughed with relief at her small complaints when he had been so very worried about her. “The skin is scraped, but your arm is whole. Do you know where you are?”

She cast a sideways glance and quirked a brow at him. “Lying in the dirt, more than a day’s ride from Palermo?”

“Good. You have not lost your senses. Do you know what happened? How you scraped your face and tore the skin of your arm to shreds?”

She coughed.

He gave her more water.

“The cliff. When you jumped the bush and turned so quickly, I hit the cliff face with that side of my body and head.”

He nodded. “I should kill that monk and his men for forcing you to this.”

“One against so many?” She gave a dry laugh. “You are a mighty warrior, Robert, but even you could not take out more than one at a time.”

“True.” He had to laugh with her. She was right. “Still, I regret that I cannot wreak vengeance on them. ’Twould ease the pain of failing to save other women from death and destruction.”

Juliana yawned, stretched, and reclined on the ground, cushioning her cheek on her hand. “I am so tired, I thought you spoke of rescuing other women. That’s foolish. There are no other women here.”