By Queen's Grace Page 8

  “How is that?” he asked.

  “Most comfortable,” she said, and held out her hand for the reins.

  Corwin didn’t give them over. “Not yet, Judith. Thurkill still is not sure getting you a horse was a wise thing to do. You may have to settle for being led all the way to the rebel camp.” He tugged on the reins to urge the mare forward. “So, when was the last time you sat a horse?”

  Judith buried her disappointment. Naturally, Thurkill feared she would use the mare in another attempt to escape.

  “Five years ago,” she answered, taking what pleasure she could in the ride. The mare possessed a smooth gait, and sitting in a saddle was a grand improvement over straddling the rump of Thurkill’s horse.

  “So long?”

  “I was ten and three when my father sent me to Romsey Abbey. The only horses there belonging to the queen’s guard, and then only when she was in residence. Not that it made any difference. The abbess forbade me to go near them.”

  “Why so? Most noblewomen can ride, and do it well. Did she worry for your safety?”

  “She worried that riding would remind me of home, and that I was of royal blood, and. well. I think she may have feared as Thurkill fears, that I might escape.”

  Corwin led the horse around the campsite at an easy walk. For all she wasn’t in control, Judith still enjoyed the ride.

  “Would you have tried to escape?”

  “Nay. I knew my duty. I was sent to Romsey as a companion to Queen Matilda when she visited. In turn, Matilda taught me the ways of the court and the workings of politics. My father wished me to become educated so I might one day be a helpmate to whoever is chosen as my husband. So I stayed.”

  “And were you content?”

  She let out a light laugh, hearing the sadness in it. “I was given no choice.”

  No choice at all. Except the offer made by Abbess Christina, who’d wanted her to take the veil and eventually become an abbess, which hadn’t truly been a choice. Judith knew she wasn’t suited to life in a cloister. Corwin had played a part in that realization, though he didn’t know it.

  Handsome and agreeable, he’d made a grand first impression. Her young heart had fairly fluttered at his smile. His kindness was a quality she’d much admired. Corwin had seemed the answer to a maiden’s dream. If someone had asked her that day ‘to choose between Corwin and another, she might well have chosen Corwin.

  Foolish thoughts. Her family wouldn’t have allowed her to make such a marriage. ‘Twas useless to dwell on what could never be, to wish for things one couldn’t have. She reached down to pat the mare’s neck.

  “Her gait is so smooth I could ride for hours,” she said, changing the subject from her past to the present. She didn’t particularly want to think of the future, either-a future wrought with uncertainty.

  “You might be careful of what you say, my lady. If Duncan returns soon, we might ride fast until the sun sets.”

  “With the sheriff on our tails.”

  “Mayhap.”

  Then she would have to make a choice. Follow Corwin, or make a dash for the sheriff.

  Once more, Corwin made a circle of the campsite. When he finally stopped, he reached up to help her down. She braced her hands on his shoulders, so wide and solid. His hands warm on her waist, he eased her down as if she were featherlight.

  “Judith?”

  She looked up into eyes of startling blue, into a face touched by gentleness yet set in an intent expression.

  “When this is done,” he said, “I will take you to wherever and to whomever you choose to go. I swear it you.”

  Then he bent his head, and just as she realized what he was about, his lips were on hers in a kiss so gentle she nearly swooned, but so brief she wondered if it had happened.

  Her tingling mouth knew, and her trembling body knew, though her mind needed a moment to realize he’d truly kissed her. When it did, she spun her head to look for her kidnappers. She needn’t have worried. Corwin had placed the mare so Thurkill and Oswuld couldn’t see them.

  For the life of her, she couldn’t decide if she should seek another kiss or berate him soundly for taking dangerous liberties. She reached up and touched his cheek.

  “You grow a beard,” she said, the roughness of it still a whisper of a memory against her chin.

  “Like it?”

  She didn’t have the chance to answer. Duncan galloped into the camp as if Satan himself was snapping at his heels.

  Corwin shifted in the saddle to ease his continuing discomfort and tried to concentrate on the task at hand: evading the sheriff.

  They were traveling at a good pace, but not fast enough to suit him. Thurkill insisted on leading Judith’s mare, which slowed them. Several hours remained before nightfall, time enough to get a good lead on the sheriff and his men-if Duncan was right about the sheriff making a thorough search of Oxford. With luck, the sheriff wouldn’t leave the city until tomorrow morning.

  Damn. Corwin shouldn’t have kissed Judith, not even gotten near her. What if the mare had shied and exposed their brief touch of lips to Thurkill? What if Judith had cried out in either surprise or anger?

  But neither had happened. The well-trained mare had stood her ground, and Judith. she’d retasted the kiss with the tip of her tongue and looked up at him as if she craved more of a sweet treat.

  He’d kissed her more than an hour ago. The band had ridden several leagues to gain ground on the sheriff. Corwin purposely rode at the back, placing Duncan and Oswuld between him and Judith, hoping if he didn’t see her clearly the kiss would no longer haunt him.

  Useless gesture. Corwin didn’t need to see the woman to know the feel of her palms braced on his shoulders, the warmth of her body against his hands, the sweetness of her lips pressed to his. He could tell himself from now until the second coming that he’d kissed her to give comfort and offer sympathy. To seal a promise given. Nonsense, all of it. He’d kissed her because she was there, in his arms, and it had felt so right.

  On the day they’d met he’d wondered how Judith would taste, how she would respond. Since their reunion, thoughts of her had haunted his nights and brightened his days. He’d ached to hold her, press her close, feel her warmth, always wondering if her lips were as soft and moist as they looked. Now he knew, and doubted he would ever forget. His desire for her might lessen with time and distance. The sharp pangs of lust might fade into a sweet memory.

  But he would never forget.

  A low, distant rumbling set the hair on the back of Corwin’s neck to tingling. Corwin never ignored his instincts; they’d saved his hide far too many times. The group of riders coming up hard and fast behind them might not be the sheriff’s men, but he couldn’t take the risk. Quickly, he overtook Thurkill and did what came naturally-gave orders.

  “A large group comes up on our rear. Mayhap the sheriff, mayhap not. Judith, slide on with Thurkill. Oswuld, grab hold of her horse and remain behind with me. The rest of you head for the river and find a place to hide until the danger is past.”

  “Why not just make a run for it?” Duncan asked.

  “Because if it is the sheriff, he will likely catch us. I may be able to misdirect him. If not, there is no harm done.”

  “He is right, Duncan,” Thurkill said before Duncan could voice another objection. “If Corwin can cause a delay in his progress, we stand a better chance of evading capture.”

  Corwin met Thurkill’s evaluating stare head-on. It lasted only moments before Thurkill said, “We will do as you say. Duncan will wipe out our tracks, so we will need to watch for you. If we are unable to rejoin, meet us at the White Swan Inn, south of Coventry.”

  Duncan’s horse pranced, reacting to his rider’s anger. In disbelief, Duncan turned away from Thurkill and sidled toward Corwin. “I obey because Thurkill orders me to,” he said, spitting out the words. “I swear to you, Corwin of Lenvil, if the sheriff catches us,your life is forfeit.”

  “Protect Judith. I will see what I ca
n do with the sheriff.”

  The lady they all vowed to keep safe, though for different reasons, wore a strange expression. With her brow scrunched and her mouth forming a pout, Corwin couldn’t tell if she expressed concern or was pondering on how to thwart his plan.

  Thurkill spurred his horse. Duncan followed in his dust.

  Corwin hated letting Judith out of his sight, entrusting Thurkill and Duncan with her well-being. If anything happened to her, therebels’ lives were forfeit. He watched until they disappeared around a curve in the road.

  “Now what?” Oswuld asked.

  “We block the road. Keep your sword at the ready.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  Sounds of the approaching horses grew louder. Oswuld was far more nervous now than he’d been when entering the Norman stronghold. “The same as you did at Aimsley. Stay on your horse and let me do the talking. If there is trouble, ride for all you are worth and take care not to lead them to your father. And Oswuld, if this is the sheriff, he will be Norman and speak in his own language. You will not know what we say.”

  Oswuld sighed. “I guessed as much. One would think the rulers of a country would take the time to learn the tongue of those they rule, if only to give orders.”

  Corwin placed his warhorse in the middle of the narrow road and dismounted. He didn’t have long to wait until the group appeared. At its head rode a man clad in chain mail, followed by only a handful of soldiers. Sedrick had said the sheriff led a company of twelve. Mayhap Corwin had worried for nothing.

  His hope disappeared when the leader slowed and then stopped. The lank man of middling years leaned forward and asked in Norman French, “Might I assume you are Corwin of Lenvil?”

  “Who asks?”

  “Robert of Oxford, Sheriff of Hampshire.”

  “Then you assume correctly. How did you know?”

  “Your man, William, gave me a rather detailed description of you-” his eyes darted about Corwin’s person, “-and your horse and sword hilt. Would that I had received as good a description of our villains from the nuns. Three bearded Saxons. One old, two young. The younger men named Osgoode and Dunstan, or so they thought. Not much, hmm?”

  “Ah, well,” Corwin said, smiling. “At least to you they gave names.”

  The sheriff’s gaze finally rested on Oswuld. “I expected you to be alone.”

  “I thought it wise to hire an extra set of eyes,” Corwin said, staying with the same story he’d told Sedrick this morning. This man was smart, missed nothing. The sheriff truly had no reason to suspect Corwin of anything other than setting out to rescue Judith. Still, Corwin knew it best to draw no adverse attention.

  “And the mare?” the sheriff asked.

  “Purchased this morning at Aimsley, for Lady Judith if’ I find her. Sedrick told me you intended to search Oxford today. I gather you did not find her.”

  “Not as yet, but I will.” The conviction in the sheriffs tone gave Corwin a moment’s pause. “I left part of my force to search the city, but no one I talked with remembered seeing a woman in a nun’s robe in the company of three men. ‘Twould be an oddity people would remark upon. I suspect they are somewhere ahead of me yet, as you do, or you would not be here.”

  Corwin seized the chance to misdirect the sheriff.

  “I begin to wonder if I am mistaken.”

  “Truly? Why so?”

  “Obviously, our villains took Lady Judith in order to demand a ransom for her return. Agreed?”

  “One would think so.”

  “Just because they headed north after the kidnapping does not mean they continued north for a long way. Did you lose their trail in the forest, not far from the abbey, as I did?”

  The sheriff made a face, revealing his chagrin. “They seemed to travel in circles. But they did make the road, eventually. As you did.”

  “True. Since then, signs of their passing have been harder to find, and I wonder if we have not both been played for fools. Consider, Sheriff. One of them could have taken the lady to a place of safekeeping, and the others are leading the two of us away from her.”

  The sheriff thought about the suggestion, then shook his head. “‘Tis possible, Corwin, but my gut tells me they all head north. If I do not find them by the time I reach Coventry, then I will have to give your suspicion more thought. For now, I will stay the course.”

  The man was both tenacious and cautious; Corwin would give him that. He swallowed his disappointment in not turning the sheriff around. “Will you follow the road?”

  “Aye, for the most part. You are most welcome to ride with me.”

  A natural thing for Corwin to do if he were still in pursuit of the rebels, intent on rescuing Judith and bringing the brigands to justice. Instead, he had to find their hiding place to keep them from going to Coventry and possibly being caught.

  “Consider this, Sheriff. I will do you the favor of searching the river from here to where it bends west. If I do not find them, I will head back to Cotswold and leave the search in your capable hands. If I do find them, I will send word to you in Coventry.”

  The sheriff smiled. “When William told me of you, he also bragged of your skill with a sword. If you find them, try not to kill them all. I want to see at least one hang.”

  Corwin gave a slight bow. “I shall do my best, my lord sheriff.”

  With a flourish, Robert, Sheriff of Hampshire, continued his journey north, along the road Thurkill had taken and Corwin prayed fervently that he’d left.

  “How are your tracking skills, Oswuld? Think we can find your father?”

  “Mayhap. I gather there is some urgency? I do not understand French, but understood the wordCoventry. Is that where he intends to go?”

  “I tried to alter his course, but to no avail. We need to warn Thurkill.”

  Oswuld smiled. “I do believe you are truly a rebel now, Corwin. This makes the second time today you have misled a Norman. They will not be pleased when they find out.”

  Inwardly, Corwin cringed. No matter what happened with the rebellion, there may very well be a penalty to pay for having lied to the sheriff. “Only one. Sedrick is Flemish, not Norman. Besides, the punishment for joining the rebellion will be severe if it fails. I do hope this leader of yours is a good commander or we will all hang right beside him.”

  “Too true.” Oswuld looked up the road. “I hope Duncan did not cover his tracks too well, but knowing him, he did a thorough job.”

  Duncan certainly had. After two hours and as many backtrackings, Corwin finally found the spot where they’d. left the road. After that, he counted on a broken twig here and a hoofprint in the leaf-carpeted forest floor there-and a good bit of luck-to guide his way.

  Corwin was about to give up when he saw Duncan at the edge of the water-across the river.

  “Duncan!” Oswuld cried out. “Where did you cross?”

  Duncan pointed downstream. “Back a ways, other side the man-height boulder. The horses will need to swim some.”

  Corwin turned his warhorse around and retraced his path. By the time he and Oswuld crossed the river and found the campsite, Corwin was wet and tired, and wanted nothing more than a bite to eat and a patch of long grass on which to lay his head.

  Judith came up, looking worried. She laid a hand on Oswuld’s leg as he sat on his mount. “I think you should have a word with your father. The ride this afternoon taxed him sorely. He does not look well.”

  Corwin swore inwardly. If the old man died, or even grew too ill to retain command, Duncan would certainly take over as leader. Given the man’s distrust and animosity, Corwin didn’t doubt that one of Duncan’s first acts as leader would be to rid the band of its newest member.

  Chapter Seven

  Judith helped Corwin with the horses while Oswuld mixed a potion for his father. Duncan hadn’t yet returned from his fishing, and Judith hoped he’d catch several trout. For their evening meal Thurkill wasn’t the only one tired of rabbit and squirrel, and Dunca
n hadn’t brought back supplies.

  “How bad is Thurkill?” Corwin asked as he removed the saddle from Judith’s mare.

  “He tells me he needs something to eat and a night’s rest, but I fear there is more to his illness than weariness. While we were crossing the river, he might have fallen off the horse had I not held him on.”

  “Oswuld told me his father has a heart ailment.”

  That explained why Thurkill had rubbed at his chest last night. Why he’d spent part of the mad dash to this spot slumped forward and had nearly slid off the saddle while crossing the river. She’d suspected he was in great pain after detecting hawthorn in his potion, though she hadn’t known the pain was in his heart.

  “Does Duncan know?” she asked.

  “I think so. Why?”

  “He pushed us hard,” she said, her ire rising once more. “Neither Thurkill nor I saw any reason to cross the river-” taxing the horses, getting her skirts wet, soaking

  her boots, which would take forever to dry out “-but Duncan insisted. He believed the more obstacles we placed between us and the sheriff, the better. Was the sheriff behind us?”

  “Aye.” Corwin handed her his blanket. “Rub the mare down with this while I unsaddle the other two.”

  “You sent the sheriff on his way, I suppose.”

  “You knew that was my intent”

  She’d known, but hadn’t uttered a word of protest when Corwin ordered her off her mare and onto Thurkill’s horse. She’d obeyed his command immediately, even knowing if she turned her mare around and bolted toward the oncoming riders, she might be headed toward a safe haven instead of still being held captive.

  True, Thurkill had held the mare’s reins, and he might have not allowed her to escape. But she hadn’t tried.

  The mare leaned into the rubdown, enjoying the scratch of wool against her hide. Judith found a measure of peace in the work.