A Knight for Love (32 page)

Warin waited for the man to disappear before calling to Bennet. “We have our cart.”

Bennet strode out to join Warin. “
Do you think the driver runs still?” He grinned and reached down to pick up the grubby hat. “I’ve never seen a man crawl so far backwards.” He jammed the hat on his head.

Warin gave a tight smile at Bennet’s words. “Aye, he runs knowing he
’s no match for an armed knight.”

“
Do you think this will work?” Bennet stood beside the ox, holding onto the lead with one hand, adjusting the hat with his other. “It’s a tight fit. Will I pass as the driver?”

“It will work.”
Certainty filled Warin’s voice. It had to work. Alyna’s life depended on it.

He swung down off of Citadel. “Here.” He kicked at the snow and dirt of the roadway. “Dirty your face.”

“Aye, and this.” Bennet leaned down and slashed at the hem of his tunic, giving it a ragged appearance. For good measure, he took off his cloak and rubbed it in the muddy snow before throwing it over his shoulders with an exaggerated swirl. He looked to Warin. “How do I look now?”

Warin laughed at Bennet’s smug expression. “You play the role well. Mayhap you missed your calling in life and are better suited as ox driver than knight.”

“Or mummer,” Bennet replied cheerfully. “What next?”

“Wait here.” Warin grabbed the reins of Citadel and stalked away into the woods. He re-appeared a short while later. “The horses should be safe for awhile, we only need enough time to deliver the hay to the stable. When you return, pull the cart off the road and conceal it well. Get the horses and find a hidden spot to watch for us.”

“Aye, to drive a cart is simple enough and the distance is short. I have the easy task. It is you, my lord, who faces danger.”

“Danger?” Warin shrugged. “
Dangerous it may be but danger for a purpose is different than foolhardy danger. It heightens the senses and makes a man keen.”

“You
’re not afraid?”

“For me, nay.” Warin shook his head. “It
’s only fear if you let it become fear. Faulkenburg is a small keep and poorly manned. I will succeed.”

“Aye, you will,” Bennet
announced, nodding stoutly. “And Warin?”

“Aye?” Warin grunted as he hoisted himself up onto the back of the cart.

“Lady Alyna is courageous
. Hold fast.”

Warin paused, legs dangling over the back of the cart. “Your declaration is heartening, Bennet. I can
’t deny I worry for her.”

“She
’s unharmed and waits only for your rescue.”

Bennet’s words were reassuring and Warin was grateful for them.

“You are a true friend, Bennet.” Warin clasped Bennet’s hand. “I would have none but you at my side on this day.”

“And you.” Bennet’s
voice rasped with emotion. He rubbed his eyes and cleared his throat. “I, that is….” His words trailed away.

“Enough, Bennet,” Warin
advised. “We stand here like two besotted fools when there is much to be done.” He began digging through the hay. “Help me.”

“Aye.” Bennet jumped to Warin’s aid
, covering him with the cart’s contents.

Warin
lay back and grasped his sword firmly in his right hand, keeping his left hand firmly over his face. The hay pricked him in a hundred places, even through the seams of his leather jerkin. He had removed his mail and left it behind with the horses. Its weight would hinder him, and too, it clinked when he moved and the noise would give him away.

“The cart appears just as before?”
he asked. Dust tickled his nose and he fought the urge to sneeze. God’s blood, he was uncomfortable.

“Aye.” The hay muffled Bennet’s
voice.

“Then let us go.”

“We’re away,” Bennet mumbled. And with a lurch, the cart began to trundle up the road towards Faulkenburg keep.

But Warin had lied when he had told Bennet he was unafraid. The truth was, he was deathly afraid.

Afraid for Alyna.

Afraid that mayhap she
lay dead already, that Alan had lied about holding her for ransom.

Afraid that the key to his happiness would be snatched away from him before he even had a chance to turn it.

The fates could not be that cruel, could they? He was a fighting man and he had been given a chance to save a life rather than take a life. He need not stand by helpless and lose her. He could save her, proving for once and for all that he deserved to live.

The journey to the Crusades was supposed to have absolved him, but it hadn’t worked that way at all. Instead, he battle
d with the demons of participating in a war he now saw as fruitless. Thousands had died but he had survived, wasn’t that a sign the heavens favored him, that he had earned the right to live?

And now he could rescue Alyna. The Lord had given him one last chance for absolution.
He, Warin, would rescue Alyna, or die trying. Without her there would be nothing for him, only more demons to join the hundreds already milling through his mind.

The wheels of the cart bounced on the frozen ruts of the road with such force h
is head bounced on the flat bed. The sharp knock interrupted his thoughts. The time had come to focus on what he needed to do.

He gritted his teeth. Straw poked at his ears and he had to resist the urge to clear it away.
Any movement might expose his presence before the eyes of the sentry.

They rumbled unchallenged over the drawbridge and through the gatehouse. Finally, he heard Bennet’s voice, calm and reassuring. “We’re here, at the stable.”

Warin shifted and made as if to sit.

“
Wait, my lord. Someone comes,” Bennet hissed. With an inward groan, Warin remained still.

“Good day,” Bennet’s voice was non-assuming, but a little more high-pitched than usual. Whether by intent or by nerves, Warin couldn
’t decide.

“Where is Herlewin?” The unknown voice was brusque, arrogant.

“Ill. He bade me come in his stead,” Bennet replied evenly.

“Ill?” The other man snorted. “Herlewin likes to l
ie abed and seizes upon any excuse to do so.”

S
ilence reigned for a moment then a sword clanged, as if its wearer shifted it to a more comfortable position. “Who are you? I’ve not met you before.”

“Ranulf
.”

“Ranulf? And how come you to be in the village?”

“Herlewin’s wife is sister to my wife,” Bennet lied smoothly. “Raiders burnt down our hut and stole our cattle. We’ve traveled far in search of shelter.”

“You seek shelter with Herlewin?” The other man guffawed. “
I wouldn’t call his hovel shelter. The roof thatch rots and the walls bow. You’d do better to live in the woods.”

“Ah well,” Bennet
sighed, “my wife wishes to live with her sister. I do as I am told, it’s easier that way.”

“Aye
,” the other man snickered. “A wise man avoids a woman’s shrewish tongue.” His tone was insulting, as if trying to provoke Bennet.

Bennet, howe
ver, would not rise to the bait.

“
We’re only here until the spring,” he replied mildly, “then we’ll move on. If you please, good sir, I wish to deliver the hay and return home. The day is chill and a warm fire and a mug of ale await me. Where do you want this?”

“Over there.”

“As you wish,” Bennet said. Warin heard him croon softly to the ox as the cart lurched and rolled a little. “Here?”

“Aye,” said the other. “And tell Herlewin that Wimarc finds him an idle knave. Mayhap you, Ranulf, should take Herlewin’s place and send him on his way, for you appear much stronger than he.”

“I’ll tell him,” Bennet chuckled, ostensibly amused by the comment. “But neither he nor his wife will be happy to hear it.”

Wimarc laughed and slapped Bennet across the back.

It must have been a sound blow for Bennet coughed with the strength of it. As Wimarc walked away, the echoes of his laughter receded until silence claimed the air again.

“Warin,” Bennet whispered. “The door to the stable lies to your left. When the sentries have turned their backs and on my count of three, I will tip the cart. It will provide cover for you to sneak in.”

The next few moments crawled by but finally he heard Bennet’s whispered count.

“One, two, three.” Bennet grunted as he tilted the cart.

Warin slid down with the shifting pile, landing awkwardly on his back. Hay floated over him and he had to blink to clear his eyes. Raising himself on his elbows, he turned his head and saw the door.

“Go!” Bennet hissed. “The sentries have two steps more before they turn back this way.”

Warin nodded and scrambled to his feet. Crouching, he broke free of the hay and dashed the few steps into the haven of the stable.

Just inside the door, he paused a few seconds to get his bearings. He charged towards a roughly hewn feed trough and ducked in behind, kneeling on the grain-strewn ground.

He glanced back over his shoulder through the open door. Bennet tugged the rein of the ox, and man and beast disappeared from view. Then the sentries hailed Bennet as the cart passed unimpeded through the bailey towards the gatehouse and out. An auspicious start – Bennet had carried out his part and none suspected him.

So far all went well.
Blood pounded through his body, setting every nerve fiber to tingling, heightening his senses to an acute level.

Was that his imagination or did he hear Alyna’s voice on the breeze drift
ing in through the open door? Nay, it couldn’t be, a fair distance still separated him from the keep. He shook his head to clear the fanciful notion and to keep his thoughts on rescuing his wife.

A rope. He needed a rope if he had any hope of breaching the wall with Alyna.
He peered over the top of the trough and through the gloom of the stable spied several coils hanging from pegs beside the door. He crawled over and grabbed one.

Returning to his niche behind the trough, he unrolled
the rope, unsheathing his knife from his boot to cut it into several differing lengths. The shorter pieces he wedged into his belt, while the remaining length he looped to sling over his shoulder.

He ran his thumb along the edge of the blade before stuffing it back into his boot.
Then he settled in to wait for darkness to fall.

Chapter Twenty-One

The moon
made a crescent sliver in the chill murkiness of winter’s night when Warin made his move. On stealthy feet, he darted through the bailey of Faulkenburg, dodging from the shadows of one hut to another. He crouched as he ran, keeping his hand on the hilt of his sword to keep it silent. At the hut nearest the stepped path leading to Faulkenburg’s castle tower, he stopped to calm his breath.

“Only two man the gate,” he muttered as he watched the figures of the guardsmen warming their hands on a small fire built in the shelter of the palisade wall. Those two
didn’t expect a threat for their weapons lay beside them on the ground and their interest lay on the flask of wine they shared.

Somewhere someone ate
for the odor of freshly cooked meat teased his nostrils. His stomach growled and he pulled his lips back into a thin-lipped grin. How ironic to be betrayed by the grumbling of his empty stomach. He jammed his fist in his belly and focused again on the guards.

Both men had their backs to him. Quietly, he removed his sword and the coiled rope and laid them on the ground. When one of the men arose and disappeared inside the gatehouse, he ran up behind the remaining guard and with the hilt of his knife, knocked him unconscious. Grabbing the man by his ankles, he dragged the limp body to the side of the gatehouse. The man stirred and groaned and Warin delivered another blow, this time a swift kick to the temple with his heel. The guard fell silent and Warin wondered briefly whether the blow had been strong enough to kill.

There was no time to ponder further on that guard’s fate, for the other guard stepped out of the gatehouse. The man stopped and looked about in visible puzzlement at his compatriot’s disappearance. He opened his mouth to shout but before he could make a sound, Warin hurtled himself through the air, catching him waist high and knocking him to the ground. The guard struggled and although strong, was no match for the avenging silhouette. Soon he too, lay silent and limp from the blow delivered to his skull.

Warin dragged the second man around the corner and placed him beside the first, tying them together back to back with the lengths of rope from his belt. Before retrieving his sword and the coiled rope, he stuffed their mouths with cloth hacked from their cloaks. As he passed by, he nudged them with his foot to ensure both
remained unconscious.

Through the gatehouse he darted and then, hugging the palisade wall, began the climb towards the castle proper. At the top, he stopped where it opened up into the small yard in front of the castle.