Читать книгу The Quest - Lyn Stone - Страница 12

Her back to the stream, Iana stood, feet braced apart, her skirts concealing Tam from whatever might emerge from the forest. Be it animal or man, she prepared herself to dash out the brains of it, should it dare approach. She sucked in a deep breath and held it as she hefted the rock in her hand.

“Eh! Here, Woad. I thought she’d be headin’ fer th’ water.”

The greedy-looking man from the village plowed through the brush, grinning at Iana, showing gaps where his front teeth should be. He was enormous, his stomach hanging over his belt, his legs like tree trunks. She did not recall his being so dreadfully big.

A mere ghost of a fellow, skin and bones and stringy white hair, followed him into the small clearing.

The large, shaggy-haired one propped his hands on his hips and wrinkled his brows, attempting to menace her, she supposed.

“We’ll be havin’ the balance of that siller now, lass. Dinna be stingy wi’ it.”

Iana shook her head, glaring at him.

“If ye’ve nae more siller, then we’ll see what else ye’ll offer us fer our trouble. Got treasure under th’ skirts there, ha’ ye, lassie?”

“You’ll have naught from me,” she declared. Where the devil was that knight? Henri might not be able to defend her, but the least he could have done was left her his knife. She weighed the rock again, balancing it, adjusting her grip. It would have to do.

The ghostlike one crept forward even as Shaggy stepped closer, tsking at her weapon as if it were but a pinecone she held.

Suddenly the bushes behind the two men came alive. Henri and Everand burst through, blades flashing hither and yon like rapidly struck sparks off flint.

Howls of rage sent birds flying, small beasts scurrying. Iana almost stumbled backward over Tam. Quickly she crouched, scooped up the babe and hid behind the nearest large tree so they would not be trampled.

Openmouthed, she watched. Lightning-quick steel sliced through worn homespun and leather as if it were butter. The two blades were everywhere at once with no pause.

Next she knew, the two thieves stood bare as the day they were hatched, cowering, whining, hands shaking as they covered what they considered their most valuable parts. Iana trembled with laughter and relief.

Henri, still wearing only his loincloth, teased the chest of the shaggy one with the point of his dagger. Truly, the reiver looked a proper beast, with dark hair covering his shoulders and even his back. A ghastly sight.

“Your hide would make a warm pelt, I’d wager,” Henri observed in a menacing growl, slowly shaving a blade-width’s path across the area over the man’s heart. He then wiped the blade upon the man’s bushy beard. “But it would take years to leach out the stink.”

“Please, sar,” Shaggy begged, “we didna mean nae harm. Let us gae and we’ll stay gone.”

Henri turned to Everand. “What think you, my friend? Should we kill them here, or let them go, and give chase? Do you fancy the hunt?” He nodded as if greatly looking forward to the taunting, giving Everand a clue to the answer he expected, since the lad kenned only French.

Everand bobbed his own head, wearing a look of glee, his small knife holding the ghostie’s chin as high as it would go.

“Twenty paces lead, then. Give us a good hunt and we’ll make it a clean kill. Lie down and whimper, I shall skin you alive. Can you count?”

“Aye,” Shaggy croaked, his eyes wide with fear. Ghostie whimpered.

“Off you go on the count of three! One…two…three!” Henri shouted and gave a war whoop any Highlander would envy. Everand chased through the bushes behind the men, shrieking like a banshee all the while.

Iana fell back from her kneeling position, laughing so hard her sides ached. Tam clung to her like a frightened kitten.

Henri crouched beside them, his smile wide. “You are all right, I assume.”

“A-aye, I am well,” she gasped, hardly able to catch her breath. “How in heaven’s name did you do that?”

“But a game,” he said modestly. “It is better played with swords, but we made do well enough.”

“I should say so! They’ll not slow down right soon, if ever.”

He stood and held out his hand. The sight of his muscles shining with sweat shot a hot tingle of appreciation right down the middle of her. For an instant, she could not tear her gaze away.

His soft chuckle warned her that he had noticed her fascination. Iana immediately shut her eyes, cursing herself for her wayward thoughts. She ignored his offer of assistance.

When she dared to look again, he had retreated to the edge of the water and begun wading in, his back to her. With a will of their own, her eyes immediately focused upon his uncovered nether cheeks. “Och, my Lord!” she breathed in absolute awe.

“Oui?” He looked over his left shoulder and raised one dark brow. “Qu’est-ce que c’est?”

What is it? he asks. Iana scoffed. Lust was what it was. Pure, unadulterated lust. And she should be ashamed of herself. Not only ashamed, but terrified to be thinking what she was thinking. Not for promise of paradise should she entertain desire for any man. Such would be her undoing and that was a fact.

“Nothing,” she replied, still a bit breathless, keeping her gaze firmly locked upon the tree beside her. “I was about to offer up a prayer.”

“Say one for me, if you will,” he beseeched, his voice rife with amusement.

Just before he disappeared beneath the surface, she thought she heard him say, “Best pray for colder water.”

For the next two days, Henri did as Iana instructed most of the time, giving good reason whenever he had to object. It was obvious to him that she had traveled little in her life, for she pushed the mounts too hard and, as long as Tam’s supply of milk lasted, forgot about obtaining food for the next meal unless reminded.

She always went alone, as she had before, into a village when they passed one. There she would somehow obtain a loaf of bread, a bit of cheese and another sack of the damned oats.

Now and again she would halt her mare, slip off and disappear into the woods for a short while. Only answering nature’s call, he had thought at first. But she would also return with a few sprigs of plants to tuck inside her pouch. Later, when they stopped to rest, he would be required to swallow her harvest in one form or another or have the leaves crushed and pasted upon his wound. It seemed she was more than adequate in her chosen work, for he felt better each day. The fever was completely gone now and he experienced only slight twinges when he moved about too swiftly.

Every time she touched him and each time he felt her eyes upon him, he cursed his ungallant thoughts. The more his body healed and grew freer of the pain, the more it bedeviled him with its growing insistence upon getting closer to her.

He owed this woman his life. How could he offer her the insult of seduction? True, she was a widow, one with her honor intact. Or so she said. There were times he believed it wholeheartedly, but then there was her child to consider. How had she gotten Tam without putting aside that decency of hers at least one time in her life? He supposed she could have been taken by force, but he shoved aside that abominable thought, deciding he had much rather she had gone willingly to any man, rather than believe she had suffered that.

Though he did sense she was wary of him, it did nothing to discourage his desire. He wanted her so badly he ached with it.

Everand had immediately filled the space Henri deliberately put between himself and the woman. The boy’s constant chatter and exaggerated chivalry annoyed him. He who had always been indulgent toward young squires and their follies of the heart, and he who had also never been jealous in his life. Not even of his unfaithful wife.

“How long before we reach Baincroft, sir?” Ev asked him as they rode.

Henri shrugged. “Well, I know how long it takes to travel from Odun in the Highlands to Baincroft. My brother fetched his bride from near there last year and told me of the time involved. Judging by his journey and the maps I studied long ago, I think we must travel about half that distance. It depends upon how long it takes to find crossing at the Clyde. Our passage around the hills beyond will slow us down even more, however. Three more days is my guess,” he told Everand. “Mayhaps four.”

“There is a ferry north of Largsmuth,” Iana informed him. “We should reach that before tonight.”

“You have traveled this way before, then?”

“Aye, once,” she admitted, “though I have not been any farther east than Largsmuth.”

Henri rode on silently, questioning whether he had any right to ask more about her life and what had brought her to that village where Ev had found her. Thus far, she had not welcomed his curiosity and simply ignored him when he asked anything about her past.

“You must have lived near the Clyde when you were wed,” he said in an offhand way, excusing his prying, since he did not phrase it as a question.

“Nay,” she answered, not looking back at him.

“When you were a lass, then,” he guessed again.

She remained silent.

He smiled to himself. One more piece of the puzzle slipped into place. She was not Iana of Ayr, as she had told them. Ayr was a coastal town not far from where they had come ashore, if he recalled his maps aright. Her girlhood home was near the Firth of Clyde. She’d not denied it. And her grandfather’s Christian name had been Ian. She had let that slip when he was ill. Once he reached Baincroft, he would inquire if anyone there knew a nobleman named Ian who lived near the Clyde.

Why it seemed so important to find out exactly who Iana was, Henri could not say. Possibly because he could not abide a mystery. Then again, it might be because he desired her so fiercely and wanted to know just how available she was to him with regard to her station in life. Unworthy thoughts troubled him, so he dismissed them.

“What is the cost of crossing at Largsmuth?” he asked, determined not to indulge his prurient interest in her any further.

“A schilling, I believe. My bro…I cannot recall the exact price,” she snapped.

Henri smiled. Another slip. She had been about to say brother, he was certain of it. If her brother had been with her at that crossing, he must have been escorting her somewhere, likely to the man she would wed. Women had little cause to leave their homes, otherwise. So it was probable that she had traversed this route in reverse, in order to become a bride. Her husband had died, so she had told Ev. Why had her family not come for her if she had been widowed and left with nothing? Were they all dead?

It seemed that the more answers he obtained about his Iana of Somewhere Nearby, the more questions he found arising.

Iana had dreaded this part of the journey. Left to her own devices, she would not have risked passing this way, near Largsmuth, but would have taken ship on the west coast and gone to a place unknown. Though it was unlikely anyone hereabout would recognize her as sister to Newell, it certainly was not impossible. He had many friends in the area who had visited their home and met her as a girl. Despite all that had happened to her, she had not changed overmuch in looks, save to grow taller.

Sir Henri had taken the lead when she stopped to adjust Tam’s sling. Now he led them directly through the town. Iana kept her head bowed, cutting her gaze right and left, thankfully seeing only strangers.

Largsmuth proved an odd mix of buildings, some wattle and daub, some quite wonderfully constructed of wood. A few of the latter boasted hinged half-walls, let down, propped upon supports and used as tables to display wares of the shopkeepers.

The remainder of the silver chain lay within her pouch, begging to be spent upon a decent gown, shoes that were not encrusted with mud, and soft-scented soaps to soothe her skin. She sighed and rode on, knowing the folly of spending for things she could do without.

“Ah, I see an inn up ahead,” Sir Henri said, turning. “We shall sleep there tonight.”

Then, as if he had read her mind, he added, “And purchase new raiment in these shops, of course. We should not arrive at my brother’s keep looking the part of beggars.”

Everand cleared his throat and eased past her to halt next to his lord. “Sir, we haven’t any coin for that.”

The knight looked back at her, smiling confidently. “Lady Iana will graciously allow us some of the silver from the chain, and I shall repay her the instant we arrive at Baincroft.”

“Nay,” she said, shaking her head. “I say we shall not stay here the night, nor shall we spend my silver upon fripperies, sir.”

His smile disappeared. “You would grudge us this, lady? I had not marked you as miserly. Do you not believe that I will compensate you? I remind you, we did save your silver from the thieves, did we not? You would have none of it, were that not so.”

He had her there. Had it not been for him and the lad, she would have nothing left now, not even her honor. Iana looked around her, keeping her face half-concealed by the rough wimple. She saw no person familiar to her. What could it hurt to rest her bones upon a feather-stuffed bed for a change?

Happening upon someone who knew her face worried her as much as spending the silver. She would not have to go about in the town once they had secured rooms in the inn. Sir Henri could buy what they must have. These townfolk would not remark much upon the fact that he was French, as would have those in the small villages they had passed. Many foreigners must travel through a city this size.

“Very well,” she agreed reluctantly. “Make for the inn.”

He gave a firm nod and urged the bay on down the cobbled street toward the two-story building with the hanging sign.

“Lead the mounts through that alley,” he ordered Everand, pointing to the space between the inn and a cloth merchant’s stall. “There should be a stable in back. See to our beasts yourself, for I do not trust strangers to feed them properly.” He turned to her and waited.

For a moment, she did not realize what he expected of her. Then she remembered. Sighing, she untied the bag containing the chain and plopped it in his outstretched hand.

“Merci,” he said, and smiled reassuringly. “I will repay you, Iana.” In seconds, he had forced apart several of the links with his knife blade.

Iana’s heart sank when he tucked the entire pouch inside his doublet instead of giving it back. Less than half the chain remained since she had paid for their horses and every sackful of food she had begged from the local populace ’twixt here and the coast.

“Follow me, my lady, and remain close,” he warned. “There are likely to be ruffians hanging about the public room.”

She did as he asked, for she had never stayed in an inn before and did not know what to expect once they entered. When she had traveled this way with Newell, Dorothea and their retainers, they had carried their own tents, furnishings, servants and victuals.

When Henri led her inside, she saw that she had been wise to heed him. Several men gathered around a chest-high bench, laughing and toasting each other, well on their way to becoming drunk.

Sir Henri nodded amiably to them and hailed the publican. “We would like rooms,” he informed the man.

“You only need the one,” the bearded proprietor told him. “’Tis large and will sleep four. Two beds.”

Henri looked down at her. “One will do.” Something in his eyes warned her not to protest his decision. In truth, Iana had no objection at all. Propriety had been cast aside the moment she had found him, so that was not an issue. More importantly, one room would cost considerably less than two.

She winced a bit when he handed over two of the silver links. One should have been enough.

“We require one night’s lodging, enough food to carry us through three days travel, milk for the child and stabling of our mounts. Also, bring us three buckets of hot water as quickly as you can warm it.” He had not lowered his hand after turning over the silver. “I will have three marks in change.”

Two of the men at the bench stopped drinking to watch the dealings when the publican laughed at Sir Henri. “You jest!”

“No jest,” Henri declared softly. The look in his eyes held a warning and his smile had ceased to be. “Three marks, no less. Else we shall take our room elsewhere.”

The innkeeper turned away, hawked and spat. With a shrug, he reached into a purse at his waist and withdrew the coins, dropping them into the knight’s hand. “Aye, well, times is hard.”

Henri waited a moment longer, raised a dark brow in challenge to the men who were watching, then followed the publican up the stairs.

Iana almost grasped the tail of his doublet in her worry over being left behind. This was a frightening place, she thought, and the men looked hard-edged despite their previous mellow mood. She now understood her brother’s abhorrence of abiding in public inns.

Everand joined them before they had settled in. “The stables are more than adequate, sir,” he reported. “I saw to the feed. The man there says his master will beat him if he does not curry every animal, so I let him do it.”

“You will judge whether he has made a proper job of it before you sleep,” Henri instructed. “For now, you remain here with Lady Iana and Thomasina while I see to our other needs. Bar the door and do not open it unless you hear my voice direct you to do so. I shall return before they send someone with our food and water for washing.”

“As you wish,” Everand replied, then added, “Father.”

Henri smiled at him, a singular expression that spoke of his affection for the lad. He said nothing, only placed a large hand on Ev’s shoulder and gave it a fond shake. Then he left.

Everand quickly dropped the heavy bar across the door into its fittings and turned to her, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the portal. “You need not fear, lady. I shall guard you with my life. And your babe, of course.”

She might have laughed at him for pretension, had she not seen what he could do with a knife. “We are glad to have your protection. Tam and I thank you for it.”

He pushed away from the door and came to sit upon the bed where Tam lay sleeping. With one finger, he awkwardly pushed an inky wisp of hair off the child’s cheek. “She does not have the look of you.”

“Nay, she does not,” Iana admitted.

“I had a small sister,” he said softly, in the voice of the young lad he was instead of the deliberately deepened tone he used most of the time. After a long hesitation, his gaze still resting upon Tam, he added, “She died with my mother.”

Iana felt her heart twist just watching his remembered grief. “I regret your loss, Everand. And then your father died, also?”

He nodded, still not meeting her eyes. When he answered, he seemed almost lost in his thoughts. “He wasted away with grief, I believe. He wanted death. My brothers were all gone, my mother and sister, as well. There was only me. When Lord Henri came one day to select cloth for his new court garb, my father pleaded with him to offer me employment.”

He glanced up, the corners of his mouth tipped in a sad smile. “You should have heard the plaudits my sire heaped upon my head whilst asking that boon, lady. I feared never to live up to his praise of me. Wishful lies, most of it, yet Lord Henri accepted it as truth. I refused to leave home until my father breathed his last. Then my new master came for me and made me his squire.”

“And now his son,” she added, sitting down at his side, pressing her hand on top of his. “I’ll wager both your old father and your new feel great pride in you, the one in heaven and the other who directs your life here.”

He shrugged with modesty. “I pray it is true, though I have unworthy thoughts betimes.” He glanced up at her from beneath his long lashes. “And, like your poor Thomasina, I do not seem to grow properly.”

The urge to comfort the motherless boy overwhelmed her. Iana put her arms around Everand and held him to her, brushing a kiss upon his brow. “Take heart, Everand. My own brother remained much smaller than his years should have made him until he was near sixteen. Then he quickly grew near as tall as Sir Henri.”

“You cannot mean it!” Ev exclaimed, pulling back from her, his large eyes rounded with hope. “Shall I, do you think?”

“Wait and see,” she advised, pinching his cheek lightly and giving it a pat. “And even should you not attain such great height, it matters not at all. Deeds make the man, Everand. Always remember that. Your deeds will speak for you, not your size, nor your wealth, nor your way with words. Deeds are all that matter in life.”

He inclined his head thoughtfully. “So says Sir Henri, or something to that effect. I suppose I must believe it.”

There came a scratch upon the door then and he leapt up from the bed, his hand on his knife hilt, doubtless hoping for a chance to perform the heroics of which they had spoken.

“Who goes?” he demanded in his deepest voice.

“I bring your supper,” a man declared. The iron handle of the door moved downward, but the bolt held fast.

“That is not the publican,” Iana whispered.

“Come back later,” Everand ordered loudly. Then, very quietly, he said to her, “It must be one of those ruffians thinking to steal from us.”

After a few moments of silence, something heavy banged against the door. The bolt shook in its fittings. “Mercy, he means to break it down,” she gasped.

“Take the chamber pot and stand to one side of the door,” Everand told her. “Aim for his head if he breaks through. I’ll finish him off with my blade.”

The man rammed against the door again. Iana grabbed up the heavy clay pot and ran to her station. Everand gripped his eating knife and assumed a fighting stance.

With the third blow, the entire portal came off its rusty hinges and collapsed into the room. Iana struck swiftly, threw her full weight behind the swing of the pot and connected with a solid thunk.

Stunned, the brute just stood there, his weapon drawn back to strike.

Everand flung his knife and lifted a stool, tossing that as well. The blade struck true, to the left of the rogue’s breastbone. His beefy hand grabbed it just as the stool hit his head. With little more than a groan of dismay, the man toppled like a felled tree, landing flat upon the door itself. The wicked short sword bounced out of his hand with a clang and landed in the corner.

For a moment she and Everand just stood there, frozen with the shock of their success. Then the lad’s lips kicked up in a semblance of a smile and he shrugged. “We did it!”

“Do you think he is dead?” Iana asked. Everand walked over to the man and nudged him with his boot. He did not stir.

Together they knelt and rolled the brigand off the fallen door so that he lay on his back. Everand retrieved his trusty knife, grimaced at the bloody blade, then wiped it clean upon the wretch’s filthy jerkin.

Iana felt the man’s neck vein for a heartbeat and found none. Blood welled out of the vacant wound in his chest and stained a dark crimson circle upon his yellowed sark. If they did not move him soon, they would have a puddle upon the floor.

“We’ve killed him, I think. What should we do now?” she asked.

Everand bounced to his feet, went to the doorway and leaned out into the corridor.

Apparently, the noise of the fracas had drawn no attention. Or it was possible happenings of this sort were so commonplace they did not merit anyone’s notice.

The lad stepped back, looked down at their attacker and blew out a sigh. “Could we lift him high enough to get him out the window?”

“I believe so,” Iana said. “He is quite large, but there are two of us.”

“Then we should tidy up. The landlord will not be pleased by this, I am quite certain.”

Iana agreed with that. Even if they could prove the man intended to rob them—which they could not—they would have to stay here until there was an inquiry into his death. She did not want to think what might happen to them, since they could not prove he had meant them harm.

Together they struggled to drag the man toward the window that opened to the back of the building. With the greatest of effort, they managed to get his upper half through the opening, then tumbled him out and watched him land upon the ground between the inn and the stables.

“Do you think anyone will guess we threw him out this window?” she asked in a whisper. “What of the stable lad?”

“Busy inside there with our mounts. There’s no one about to have seen us do it,” Ev assured her. “Likely whoever discovers him will believe he was accosted down there in the back dooryard.”

Iana stared down at the man for some time to see whether she might have been mistaken and he would bestir himself after all. When he did not, she finally turned away.

Everand was grunting, diligently trying to prop the door back into place, so she went to assist him. Together, they got it upright within the opening, though they had no way now to secure it. At least it would afford them a bit of privacy. If anyone else came along, they would stop and scratch or knock, instead of walking right into the chamber.

“What of the blood on the outside of the door?” she asked, wringing her hands to keep them from shaking.

Ev patted her arm. “Do not worry. There was little on it. He mostly bled when I took out the knife. There by the window where we lifted him is the worst of it.”

“I will take care of it,” Iana declared, gathering up her scattered wits and berating herself for her weakness. If a mere lad could deal with all this, then so could she.

She unpacked the remainder of the rags she had brought for use as bandages, and wiped up as much of the gore as she could. So stained the raw wood was after many years of occupancy and abuse, the smears left were hardly noticeable.

Amazingly, wee Tam had slept through the entire incident. All in all, Iana felt things had worked out much better than they might have done. They had given a right good account of themselves, she and Everand, and Iana decided not to bemoan the fact that the cursed lout had met his end here. Had they not been successful, they might be the ones lying dead.

“The chamber pot was a fine idea, Ev,” she told him, her voice less steady than she would have liked.

“It was, was it not?” he acknowledged pridefully.

“Aye, I admit I was not quick enough to consider it. And your aim with the blade was true as a marksman’s arrow. I commend you.”

“Resourceful, that is what Sir Henri says I am.” He shrugged as he helped her pick up the pieces of broken crockery that littered the floor. They tossed the shards onto the small blanket she had spread upon the floor to collect them. “He always says that about me.”

Iana sighed, feeling rather numb now that her heart had stopped hammering so hard. “Does he ever mention humility, by any chance?”

Ev cocked his head, thought a moment, then shook it. “Not that I have ever heard.”

She could believe that rightly enough. Finished with their task, they gathered up the ends of the blanket and carried it to the window. No sooner had they tossed out its contents than they heard a loud knocking.

Suddenly the door fell flat into the room with a bang.

Iana jumped clear off the floor and Ev cried out a warning.

Henri stood in the opening, fist raised and mouth agape as he stared down at the unhinged panel of boards.