Читать книгу The Saxon Outlaw's Revenge - Elisabeth Hobbes - Страница 12

Chapter Four

Caddoc.

That was his name now. He had worn it so long that his old one sounded false in his ears and he laid claim to no other. When Constance awoke he would impress that on her. By whatever means it took. He placed Constance’s dagger in his belt alongside the sheath containing his own.

As he expected, his declaration they would be taking her was met with mixed reactions. Ulf began protesting about the dangers of letting an enemy into the camp, Gerrod tore himself from his son’s body and began growling for revenge. Only Osgood showed any approval. He finally let go of his swollen nose and moved his hands to their more usual position between his legs.

‘If that was her man he has no more use for her.’ He grinned, glancing at the corpse of the bodyguard. ‘She can warm our beds instead. Do you think Norman dugs taste as sweet as English when you suckle them? They feel similar enough beneath the fingers.’

Caddoc moved to stand in front of Constance, blocking Osgood’s view.

‘She’ll not be used for that,’ he said sharply.

‘Not by us, you mean.’ Osgood’s expression darkened. ‘I saw the way you looked at her. You want her yourself.’

Caddoc looked behind him to where Constance lay, his eyes roving from her feet to head. The tunic she wore was a man’s, cut to the knee and revealing legs that were shapely inside hose that were bound at the calves with cords. The foot sticking out at an awkward ankle was the final confirmation he needed that this was Constance Arnaud. Her cloak spread beneath her and the heavy tunic hinted at a figure that was obviously not male, cinching in by means of a belt at a narrow waist and rising over the swell of her breasts.

Caddoc’s guts twisted with desire. She’d grown from a slender girl into a full woman in the years since he’d last seen her. Or touched her.

Of course he wanted her. Who wouldn’t?

He tore his gaze away.

‘She’ll not be used by any of us. No one touches her.’ He mustered a crooked smirk that he bestowed on Osgood. ‘Though I’m sure the sight of her will give us all the means to sweeten our nights.’

He strode to the monk and guard who knelt by the horses, hands bound behind them.

‘Who knew you were travelling with a woman?’ he asked quietly. ‘Did either of you?’

Both men nodded.

Caddoc delivered a swift kick to the knee of the guard who cried out in pain.

‘And neither of you cared to protect her when we attacked?’

‘We were told to protect the contents of the box,’ the guard muttered.

‘By Lord de Coudray?’ Caddoc asked.

‘By the lady,’ the guard answered, ‘and she insisted on dressing like that despite Rollo telling her it was unfitting.’

Caddoc raised his eyebrows. So the box was important to Constance, too. She had said it was her property. Jewels probably in that case. Constance could try buying her freedom with a bangle or two. She gave a sigh that drew his attention back to her. Her eyes were closed, but she was moving her head from side to side. Her skin was slick with a sheen of sweat, causing tendrils of hair to stick to her cheeks.

‘Get some water from the river,’ he instructed.

Ulf pulled the leather cap from his head and filled it. He returned and poured it over Constance’s head. Before Caddoc could protest that wasn’t what he had meant Constance’s eyes opened and her body convulsed.

With a cry of shock she pushed herself to a seated position, scrabbling back on her heels. Her hand whipped to her waist, feeling the empty sheath where her dagger belonged. She stared frantically around her, then she paled at the sight of the four men standing over her.

Caddoc pushed forward and knelt astride her. She opened her mouth to speak and he clamped one hand across it, pressing down firmly, the other behind her head, buried deep into her thick coil of hair to stop her twisting away. Constance’s brown eyes widened and Caddoc watched as the emotion in them changed from confusion to terror.

‘My name is Caddoc,’ he said. He lowered his voice low so only she could hear. ‘You don’t know me. If you want your throat to stay unslit, you will give no indication that we have ever met, much less were friends. Do you understand?’

Her lips moved beneath his palm, her breath warm, and the movement making his skin tingle. It sent a shiver up the length of his arm. Constance gave a slight nod.

‘I’m going to let go of you now,’ Caddoc said, loud enough for the men to hear. ‘If you try to run as you did before, you won’t get three paces without a sword through your leg. Nod if you agree to be sensible.’

Another nod, but now her eyes blazed contempt. Caddoc removed his hands and stepped away. Constance climbed unsteadily to her feet. She brushed her hands down her body and legs to straighten her tunic, then froze. Her eyes travelled round her audience and she pulled her cloak around her body protectively, reaching up to lift her cowl over her head.

‘We know you’re a woman,’ Osgood reminded her. She dropped her hands to her sides.

‘Who are you?’ Gerrod growled, stalking across to tower over her.

Caddoc watched as the short, slender woman faced the giant bear of a man. He expected her to cower, but instead she straightened her back, raised her chin and looked him in the eye. In a voice that betrayed none of the fear he imagined she was feeling she answered, ‘I am Constance Arnaud. I am travelling to Hamestan to the house of Robert de Coudray. When he finds out what you have done he will have your heads.’

She included Caddoc in the look of hatred she flashed around. He doubted any of them heard her threat because at the name of de Coudray they began shouting over her. He cursed his lack of foresight. He had warned her not to speak his name, but had placed no injunction on her not to reveal her own.

Gerrod seized her by the arms and began dragging her across the path until he had backed her against the trunk of a tree.

‘Give me a sword,’ he roared. ‘I’ll send her back to the Pig a piece at a time.’

Constance’s face drained of colour.

The guard started to struggle to his feet, only to be kicked in the chest by Ulf. Osgood picked up his staff and advanced on the monk.

‘Enough!’ Caddoc roared.

Gerrod spat an oath. He pulled the rope from his waist and began to bind Constance to the tree, overpowering her struggles with ease as he passed the rope around her waist and chest, pinning her arms to her side.

‘I said get me a sword.’ Gerrod turned to Constance and snarled, ‘My son died today. Your blood can join his.’

‘Please, no,’ Constance begged. ‘I have harmed no one!’

Her lips trembled and Caddoc realised her self-possession was ice thin. She turned her wide brown eyes on her captor.

‘Please, have compassion.’

‘There is no place for compassion in the world you people have created,’ Gerrod snarled.

Constance winced.

Caddoc pressed his fingertips to his temples. He looked to where Wulf lay, his face serene in death. He was younger than Caddoc had been the year of the conquest. He would never reach the age when Caddoc had been whipped and mutilated by this woman’s brother-in-law. He brushed his finger over his lobeless ear. How could he deny Gerrod the revenge he sought when every day the same yearning for vengeance had consumed him for years?

‘Then you?’ Constance said. Her face was white and her eyes wide with terror. Caddoc’s heart thundered with an intensity that was painful. Perhaps she read it on his face because her expression changed, courage flowing into her face.

‘Will you intervene for me? Caddoc.’

A spear of lightning coursed through Caddoc at the inflection with which she spoke his name. Was she threatening him? It sent an unexpected thrill through him. He came closer, masking the admiration he felt. He put a hand on Gerrod’s shoulder.

‘Let me speak to her,’ he asked. ‘I want to know what she thinks she has to bargain with.’

Gerrod moved back to Wulf’s body like a sleepwalker and began cradling it once more. Caddoc crossed his arms, planted his legs apart and faced Constance a pace away from her. She looked away first and his lips twitched into a triumphant smile.

‘These are the men I live with. I owe them my loyalty. Why should I save you?’ he asked.

‘Because I saved your life,’ she reminded him quietly. She raised her head and met his gaze. ‘I won’t insult you by asking for compassion. I can see you don’t possess that, but you owe me a debt. A life for a life. Yours for mine.’

No compassion? It wounded him deeper than he expected, but what room did he have in a life such as his for a thing such as that?

Caddoc ground his teeth. She clearly did not intend to invoke the closeness they had once shared, though she could not have forgotten it. Perhaps it meant so little to her she did not think it worth recalling. He pictured Constance’s body swinging on the scaffold in Hamestan marketplace. Saw the look of anguish on de Coudray’s face as he beheld the corpse of his sister-in-law. The Pig’s cries rang like song in Caddoc’s imagination. Bile filled his throat. He swallowed it down, shutting his eyes in denial of what he had wanted to do. He opened his eyes to find Constance still staring at him.

‘Very well. If they will accept my intervention, my debt is repaid, but that is all I can do for you. Your courage is admirable, but if you insist in provoking trouble I will not protect you further.’

He turned his back on her so he did not have to read the expression on her face.

‘There’s no point in acting rashly. If she is a friend of de Coudray, she may be more use to us alive than dead,’ he said. ‘It’s getting dark and I want to be gone. If things change we can reconsider how we use her, but no one else is dying now.’

Gerrod raised his head. He peered through red-rimmed eyes at Caddoc, then past him at Constance.

‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ she whispered.

Caddoc tensed, waiting for Gerrod to explode. Was the woman determined to die after all? He had always believed her intervention in his execution had been motivated by her feelings for him, but now he wondered if she was simply incapable of keeping quiet when she should know better.

Gerrod sagged like a sack losing its contents.

‘Take her alive if you will,’ he said to Caddoc, and sighed. ‘But anything that happens will be on your head. Let’s be gone from here.’

The men sorted matters quickly. The remaining guard was stripped of his boots, cloak and mail and left blindfold with his hands bound behind him to the bridge.

‘Tell whoever finds you that Caddoc the Fierce sends his regards,’ Caddoc growled.

The cart blocking the bridge was righted and Wulf’s body, wrapped in his father’s cloak, was gently placed in the back alongside the strongbox and panniers. The two other corpses were left beside the path. The monk pleaded and was allowed to speak his prayer over them. Gerrod did not protest when he glanced towards Wulf and allowed the monk to repeat his prayer before securing him alongside the guard.

Through it all Constance had said nothing, but when Caddoc loosened the rope binding her he noticed the tracks in the dirt on her cheeks. They could have been from the water Ulf had thrown on her, but she saw him looking and violently wiped a sleeve across her face.

‘You’ll travel in the cart at first, but soon we’ll be walking,’ he told her.

‘I’ll need my stick,’ she answered, pointing to the staff she had thrown in his path. He retrieved it quickly, noting that while he left her she stood motionless and did not try to run. Good. She was able to take advice when she chose which might be enough to keep her alive.

Ulf led Constance to the cart and lifted her into the back. He bound her wrists together, securing the end of the rope to the rail at the side of the cart, then pulled her cloak around her to hide her bonds from anyone who might pass by.

‘Blindfold her,’ Caddoc instructed.

Constance moaned softly.

‘We can’t let her see where we’re taking her,’ he explained, more for her benefit than Ulf’s. ‘I don’t want any chance of her leading de Coudray to us.’

‘How would she do that?’ Osgood asked. He ripped his dagger through the dead guard’s cloak, tearing off a long, wide strip that he wound tightly around Constance’s eyes. He pulled her hood down across her face and spoke close to her ear.

‘Once she’s there she won’t be leaving.’

Caddoc clenched his fists. He could not contradict Osgood’s words and had no idea what would transpire, but for good or ill the decision was made.

* * *

Constance jolted around in the darkness, feeling sicker with every lurch of the cart. She had lost her sense of direction almost as soon as the cart started moving and now it no longer felt like they were on the road, but she could not be sure. She had tried tallying each time the wheel creaked a full turn, but had lost count, and with it all track of time. It was getting darker, though. The colder air that caressed the lower half of her face told her that the sun must have set.

Bound together her hands could not fully grip hold of the wooden rail and she shifted with each movement.

She wished her hands were free and she could brace herself against the side of the cart.

She wished she had crept away to safety before she had been noticed rather than drawing attention to herself trying to help.

She wished she could not clearly picture the expression on Aelric’s face when she had appealed to him to save her from death.

He had considered letting the big man kill her. She had seen the temptation in his eyes before he had saved her. Aelric, the gentle boy who once had never wielded a sword. If she had not seen the scar Robert had given him she would never have believed the angry-eyed, bearded wild man could be the same person.

The cart stopped abruptly. Someone fumbled with the rope, untying it from the rail, but leaving Constance’s hands bound. He took tight hold of her by her upper arms and hauled her to her feet. She wondered whose hands they were. Not Aelric—or Caddoc, as she supposed she must now think of him—she suspected he would have been gentler. Perhaps not, though. Her first hope on recognising him was that he would prove an ally. Now she was far from sure he was a friend to her at all, but his good grace was all that had kept her alive.

She was lifted from the cart, placed on her feet and turned around. A bottle was put to into her hands. Her unseen captor helped her raise it to her lips and she drank thirstily, not caring what the contents were. It turned out to be beer. The weak, sour-tasting brew she remembered from when she had lived in Cheshire before. She pulled a face.

‘I supposed a fine Norman lady like you would prefer wine.’ The voice she recognised as belonging to Osgood spoke scathingly from somewhere off to her left.

So it had not been him who had dragged her from the cart. She breathed a sigh of relief. Despite his harsh words he had stared at her with open hunger he did not bother to conceal and it made her flesh crawl. She was glad he had not been the one to touch her.

She did not dignify his jibe with an answer, but the idea of a warm cup of wine had never been more appealing. She took another deep swig of beer out of pride before holding the bottle out for someone to take it.

‘Let’s keep going,’ Aelric said. ‘We’re leaving the cart with Osgood and going the rest of the way on foot.’

A hand took hold of her elbow and began to lead her. Constance stiffened instinctively at the unfamiliar touch of a man. Memories of Piteur leading her to his chamber reared up unpleasantly, causing her to gag. She stuck her feet out nervously, not knowing what was in front of her, and took a few shuffling steps. Her foot squelched into a puddle and she pulled it out with a cry of disgust, causing her to lose her balance. The grip on her elbow tightened and a hand rested on her lower back, guiding her onward firmly. She succeeded in taking a few more steps until her foot snagged on something in the undergrowth and she stopped again.

‘You’ll have to walk faster than this,’ Aelric muttered in her ear. ‘The others are already far ahead.’

So it was his hand at her waist. The knowledge sent disconcerting shivers down Constance’s spine.

‘I can’t. I need my stick,’ she said irritably.

‘I’m not giving you something you can use as a weapon,’ Aelric said with a laugh.

‘What do you think I could do blindfold and with my hands bound?’ Constance demanded.

‘I’ll help you,’ Aelric replied.

His arm came around her waist. He held her close to his side and began guiding her, muttering instructions where to place her feet to avoid tangles. For the first time since the ambush she felt oddly safe. Her body relaxed as she leaned against him, but her mind whirled at the contact, sending her back into the past.

The second time they met it had been spring, not many weeks later than it was today. A time after they had settled in Hamestan, but before the thegns rose against her people. A market day filled with rare laughter and music where Constance had believed they were becoming accepted, that they could live in peace alongside each other.

There had been dancing and she’d watched enviously as the girls spun about the circle with their skirts flying, trying to ignore the stares and whispers.

Aelric had been at the centre of the knot, a set of pipes to his lips and his red-blond hair falling into his eyes. He had paused his tune as he spotted her watching and threaded his way through the circle towards her and held out his hand. When she indicated the stick she leaned on his expression hadn’t been one of pity or ridicule like she was used to, but regret. Instead of turning immediately back to the dance he’d taken her hand and bowed, then walked with her through the marketplace, leaving his friends behind.

She’d fallen a little bit in love with him at that moment and now his touch was in danger of awakening something long dormant.

‘Constance! What are you doing?’ Aelric muttered angrily in her ear, bringing her sharply back to the present.

She realised she had stopped walking again. Disconcerted that she had been thinking of such things, she shook herself free of his hold only to find her hair tangling in a low branch. She reached her hands up, flailing around her head.

‘This is too hard,’ she complained. ‘I keep catching my feet and tripping. You’ll have to let me see where I’m going.’

He spoke rapidly in a language she did not understand, but from the tone of the throaty, lyrical words he was swearing.

‘When will you cease trying to push my tolerance? I’ve told you no and I’ve told you why.’

Constance stamped her good foot in frustration.

‘Unless we’re in the centre of Hamestan itself I doubt I’ll recognise where we are,’ she snapped, and then as an afterthought, added: ‘In fact, I probably wouldn’t recognise Hamestan either. I haven’t been there for seven years.’

There was silence, then the cloth was pushed back from her eyes by callused hands. Even dusk seemed bright after the blackness she had been subjected to. She stared around. Aelric need not have feared that she would be able to lead anyone to them. The trees were broad trunked and towered over them with no sign of a pathway and every direction looking identical. They could have been anywhere.

‘Thank you,’ Constance said. She risked a smile, but Aelric remained stern faced. His eyes flickered to the side and she followed his gaze. The two other men were watching them suspiciously. Her stomach clenched as she saw the large man was carrying the body of his son. Unbidden her lip trembled. She held her hands up in front of her and raised an eyebrow at Aelric questioningly.

‘I’ll give you your sight, but your hands will remain bound,’ Aelric said.

‘Why?’ Constance asked. ‘I’m not going to run. I can’t and even if I could your friends would cut me down quick enough.’

She raised her chin and looked at him disdainfully. ‘That would solve your dilemma, wouldn’t it? If I died and it was nothing of your doing, your conscience would be clear!’

Aelric bared his teeth. He reached for the dagger at his waist and she feared she had gone too far, but he cut her bonds. Blood rushed into her hands and she rubbed her wrists vigorously until they stopped stinging.

‘Thank you,’ she said.

Aelric ignored her. He whistled and the older man threw Constance’s stick to him. Aelric pushed it into her hands, nodding curtly. ‘No more delays.’

He held out a hand for her to pass by and she walked in front of him to where the other man beckoned her. Though she had to grit her teeth in determination not to show the discomfort she was in she could not prevent a wave of relief cresting inside her. Aelric had done as she asked. It was a small triumph, but it was a victory nevertheless and for the first time hope stirred inside her.