A Warrior's Promise (10 page)

He continued shaking his head as he walked,
wondering over it.

Chapter 11

T
hey came upon a small croft. An older woman, Glenna, lived there alone, and though age and toil marred her face and body, there was a vibrancy to her that was remarkable. In exchange for some repairs to her roof and door, the old woman agreed to give them food staples and repair Charlotte's shirt and tunic.

Bryce remained busy outside tending to the few chores. Odin was forced to remain with him, though not without a whining protest when Charlotte followed the old woman into the house, where she set to work, and she and Charlotte began to talk.

“Have you been traveling long?” Glenna asked, working her bone needle skillfully through the linen cloth.

Charlotte was surprised that the woman hadn't commented on her gender when she slipped off the torn tunic. She hadn't been the least bit taken aback. Had she known upon first meeting Charlotte? She hadn't seen any reason to hide her gender. The woman certainly appeared harmless enough though she had yet to ascertain who Glenna favored, the reigning king or the true king. But that wouldn't be hard to find out.

“A week or more,” Charlotte said, wrapping the plaid around her. “That's how long I've been searching for my da.” She didn't say anything about Bryce's mission as it was not for her to say. She watched closely the old woman's reactions as she continued on. “The soldiers took my da from our home, and I've since discovered that it's possible he's being held in the king's secret prison.”

Glenna nodded, not showing an ounce of indignation or protesting the king's actions. That worried Charlotte. Could the woman be a sympathizer of the present king?

“Have you heard of such a place?” Charlotte cautiously asked.

“I pay no heed to petty gossip.”

Did that mean Glenna had heard something but wouldn't share it? Charlotte wasn't sure how next to approach the matter. If Glenna was a king sympathizer, any more Charlotte said could prove to be dangerous for her and Bryce.

“It keeps one safer to mind one's tongue,” Glenna said. “Though a man I once met told me that his daughter would not be able to hold hers if her life depended on it.”

Charlotte's eyes popped wide. Her da had forever said that to her. A ray of hope set her heart pounding in her chest.

“Gave the man water one day when he passed through here,” Glenna continued. “He looked tired and skinny, though his eyes were sharp as was his wit. He told me that he'd be seeing his daughter soon since she knew the way to him.”

She knew the way to him.

Her father had sent her a message. What she didn't understand was why Glenna just didn't come right out and tell her. It made Charlotte wonder if the old woman feared speaking plainly, feared someone's hearing what she had to say.

It hit Charlotte like an unexpected punch. They weren't alone. Someone else was here with them, but where? The one-room cottage wasn't large, though there were dark corners and a bed to hide under. But who would hide?

She noticed that Glenna had stopped stitching even though she wasn't finished, the same moment she heard Odin whining and scratching at the door. Too late Charlotte realized why. Someone stood behind her.

Bravely, Charlotte said, “Is it friend or foe that hides here?”

“That would depend on which king you follow.”

Charlotte went to turn, but the man behind her was fast and yanked her out of the chair, pressing her back hard against him, his lean arm settling tightly against her throat and nearly choking the breath from her.

“Damn it, Odin,” Bryce yelled from outside. “You can't go in.”

Charlotte wished Bryce understood that the dog was trying to warn him. In the next second, she discovered that he well understood Odin. The door burst open, startling all the occupants so badly that they all jumped, giving Charlotte enough time to stomp hard on her captive's foot and turn, swinging, connecting with the tip of the man's jaw, and sending him stumbling back.

Odin reached the culprit before Bryce and pinned him to the ground with his large paws and a snarling growl that had the soldier trembling with fear. Bryce ordered the dog away and, with one hand, hoisted the soldier up.

Charlotte was shocked to see that it was a young skinny lad in soldier dress. He looked no more than four-and-ten years if that. His face was pale; his right eye bruised around the edge, and his lower lip was split and swollen.

He tried to fight Bryce, but it was a senseless struggle. The Highlander obviously had him well in hand. It didn't take long before his useless efforts ceased, and when they did, Bryce dragged him to a chair at the table and forced him to sit.

“What goes on here?” Bryce demanded of either Glenna or the soldier, his imposing glance darting from one to the other.

Glenna sighed. “He tells me he's escaped the king's soldiers, doesn't want to be one of them.” She shook her head. “But how do I trust he tells me the truth? The king could be planting his soldiers to spy on us poor folk.”

Bryce planted his hands flat on the table beside the soldier, who had yet to look at anyone. When he finally raised his head, tears shone in his eyes.

“I never wanted to be a soldier. The king's men came one day to my family's croft and dragged me off, telling me it was my duty to serve the king.” He shook his head, and a tear fell. “I'm a farmer like my father. I want nothing to do with soldiering.”

“It's a good story, but is it the truth?” Glenna said with a snort.

“What say you?” Bryce asked, looking to Charlotte. “You see more than most. Do you think he favors us with truth or tale?”

Charlotte had first sympathized with the young soldier, being so bruised and battered, but the more she watched him as he spoke, the more she questioned. His hands showed no signs of farmer's toil. He did, however, bear the hardened mark on his finger of one who often used a bow. And it troubled her that he hadn't referred to his father as “da,” a more endearing term than “father.” Once being forced to sit at the table, he had kept his eyes averted from the three of them, and she wondered if he had taken time to conjure tears.

“Some things don't fit,” she found herself saying.

Bryce's hand clamped hard on the soldier's shoulder.

“I thought the same myself,” Glenna said, “him showing up here suddenly, weeping, yet forcing his way into my home.”

“I was frightened, afraid you'd turn me away and not help,” the soldier said, more tears filling his eyes, ready to spill over. “I don't want to be a soldier for King Kenneth; I want to be a soldier for the true king.”

Charlotte realized his mistake as soon as the words left his mouth, and, surprisingly, Odin did as well. He moved closer, snarling at the soldier.

“You just sealed your fate,” Bryce said.

The soldier's tears suddenly dried, and he paled, as if he knew that his ruse had been discovered; still, he didn't surrender. “How? I did nothing wrong. I want to fight for the true king.”

Charlotte went to stand next to Bryce, her small shoulder brushing his thick-muscled arm. Odin moved to Bryce's other side, his snarling never ceasing.

“I am at the true king's service,” the young soldier claimed much too anxiously.

Bryce laughed and looked to Charlotte. “He's like you, speaking before he thinks.”

Charlotte punched Bryce in the arm though her small fist suffered for it, not that she let him see it, though he did grin; damn him.

“You want to tell him why his own words sealed his fate?” Bryce asked Charlotte, but it was Glenna who answered.

“The true king has no soldiers fight for him. Only those who wish to be free fight with him,” Glenna said, her shoulders squaring and her chin high. “He is one of us, and we fight together.”

Charlotte wanted to hug the woman, for her words echoed her father's sentiments and for a moment it was almost as if he were there with her. And in that moment she missed her da terribly. Without realizing it, she leaned against Bryce, and, without hesitation, he slipped his arm around her and held her tight.

How his arms could feel so familiar or so comfortable she didn't know and didn't care. She only knew that he made her feel safe and protected, and there was where she wanted to be.

“The truth,” Bryce demanded of the soldier.

“I speak the truth,” the soldier insisted.

“Then why did you grab the wee one here and nearly choke her?” Bryce asked.

Charlotte saw the soldier turn pale, and she quickly glanced up at Bryce. If he hadn't been holding her tight, she would have stepped away from him; his look was murderous.

“I-I-” the soldier fumbled, trying to explain.

“The truth comes easily when you're an honorable man,” Bryce said, and the soldier paled to a ghostly white.

“They made me do it; I didn't want to,” the soldier cried, tears streaming down his reddening cheeks. “I told them I wasn't good at lying, but they wouldn't listen. It was either obey or die.”

“I don't trust him,” Glenna said. “He lies and keeps lying. I tell you, King Kenneth is planting spies. He's desperate to find the true king. He knows the people are against him and that the true king will soon claim the throne.”

Charlotte caught the sudden flare of the soldier's nostrils. He was angry with Glenna's words. He dropped his head to the table, and she assumed it was to hide his reaction, but then she noticed his hand inch down along his leg.

She shoved Bryce away from her just as the soldier flew up from the chair, dirk in hand, and lunged toward them. The tip caught her arm and would have sliced down the length of it, if it wasn't for Odin, who launched himself at the soldier. The force of his big body knocked the soldier to the ground.

Charlotte's eyes turned wide when she saw the soldier raise his dirk against Odin. She didn't think; she reacted. She was suddenly lifted in the air, tucked under Bryce's arm while he, with little effort, relieved the soldier of the weapon.

Odin stood guard over him as Bryce planted Charlotte in a chair, stuck his face in hers, and said, “Stay here; don't dare move.” He looked over at Glenna, who had moved a safe distance away from the melee. “See to her arm.”

The woman nodded and walked over to Charlotte.

Charlotte paid her no heed, her attention remaining on Bryce.

With a sharp command, he ordered Odin off the soldier. The dog obeyed immediately, and as soon as he did, Bryce grabbed the soldier by his tunic and tossed him toward the door. The soldier scurried to his feet, but Bryce grabbed him again before he could right himself.

Blood dripped from the various bite marks to his arms and near his throat. No doubt Odin could easily have killed him, but it seemed that the large dog had simply taunted him.

Bryce dragged him to the door.

The soldier's dark eyes glared with anger. “You will suffer for your foolishness.”

Bryce yanked the soldier right up to his face. “You want to face me in battle like an honorable man, I'm ready, unlike your king, who kills without thought or reason.”

He yanked open the door and tossed the soldier outside. He followed, Odin at his side and the soldier hurrying to get to his feet and lunging at Bryce.

Bryce deflected the young soldier with a simple shove.

He scrambled to his feet and rushed at Bryce again, and again Bryce shoved him aside. The third time he launched himself at Bryce with a fury and with a hard shove, the soldier stumbled and, unable to right himself, he fell . . . on the blade of the axe sticking out of a log.

“The fool was in a hurry to rush to his death,” Glenna spat from the open door.

Bryce turned around. “A pity he gives his life for one who cares naught for him. King Kenneth would have seen him dead for failing his mission.”

“The king is that quick to kill one of his own?” Charlotte asked with a wince, as Glenna returned to tending her wound.

Bryce walked over to her and hunkered down on his haunches beside her. “The king will not be so quick to kill your da, not when he wants something from him. There is time to save him.”

He knew her worry well; she had voiced it enough times. And yet he patiently reminded her each time. She almost reached out to rest her hand on his face, so grateful was she to have him with her. And amazed at how only moments before his eyes looked ready to kill while now they were tender and filled with concern.

“Is the wound deep?” Bryce asked of Glenna.

“A scratch, nothing more,” she said. “It's a brave one she is, defending you and the dog.”

“More foolish than brave,” Bryce said, and glared at Charlotte, their faces so close that she spotted the tiniest of scars along the top of his cheek, not at all visible otherwise.

“Aren't we all when we protect those we care for?” Glenna said.

Bryce and Charlotte quickly turned away from each other, Odin taking the opportunity to squeeze between them and rest his head on Charlotte's leg.

“That animal sure does love you,” Glenna said, winding a cloth around Charlotte's injured arm.

Charlotte caught the hasty glance Bryce shot their way though he quickly avoided her eyes before they could catch his. She wondered what he thought, the look in his eyes foreign to her, though she had thought she was familiar with all his expressions.

“I better see to burying the soldier and getting those chores done,” he said. “We'll need to be leaving soon.”

“And I have her tunic to finish stitching,” Glenna said, cleaning up around Charlotte.

“You,” Bryce said, pointing at Charlotte. “Rest!” He shook his head, mumbling as he walked out. “Ribs, cheek, arm, what's next?”

“He favors you,” Glenna said with a firm nod.

“We just met.”

“As if that makes a difference.”

“We don't know each other,” Charlotte persisted in protesting.