A Widow Plagued (9 page)

She was beautiful and bright. She was strong and competent. What did he really offer her but a dangerous ruse? Gavin's guilt nearly overwhelmed him. Sara deserved a man with the funds and the title to maintain this land and her children safely. Instead, she had been manipulated into marrying him. If he were unable to convince the king of his strength of position, Sara would be out on the street and Hannah would be married to Sir John within the fortnight.

He should have married Hannah as the writ described. Then, he would rightfully hold possession of the keep and title. Instead, he had arrived to find Hannah a child. Twas a task he could not stomach. Instead, he had married the mother of the possible heir. And, like a fool, he had wished for a daughter. Had Sara produced a son, his marriage to her would have ensured the safety of the household. And, yet, fool as he was, he had wished for a daughter, then sons of his own to take over the land some day.

At this rate, some day would never occur. Sara could be forced to surrender Elizabeth to the new and rightful Lord Sander's household, and he and Sara could be thrown out on the streets. Or, worse yet for him, his marriage to Sara could be annulled with the flick of the king's wrist. Why had he not insisted on consummating the marriage immediately? Now, t'would not be possible to do so for another month, at least. Still, he could not truly bring himself to regret the path which he had chosen. Sara was everything he had ever imagined his wife might be.

Even if he lost the keep and had to become a hired sword once more, Gavin would never regret choosing to align himself with Sara. She breathed life into his weary bones. She, more than the lands and title, was the reward for a difficult and dreary struggle towards success.

He would make these soft-hearted decisions of his pay off by becoming a very focused and hard troop leader. If he gave not once inch between now and the moment King Edward awarded him the title and lands. Then, mayhap, he could achieve all he wished for himself, after all.

~

Sir David's thick brown hair hung heavy on his brow. It had been three days since he had made his narrow escape from Sir Gavin's men. He still had the angry red slice across his calf to prove it. Lying here, just below the precipice of the steep embankment, Sir David couldn't help but question the sanity of his plan.

What if Lady Hannah never again came to fetch water from the stream? She had been captured once already. The likelihood of her returning whilst Sir Gavin's men wandered about was slim. And even if she did come to the stream and he could grab her, he'd have five men on him, cutting him down in an instant.

He had to rethink his plan.

~

Finally! The wagon had returned, and their own adventure could begin! Hannah was anxious to leave the keep. The plague had made her own foray into society all but impossible. She was now nearly fourteen and had never left the outer boundaries of the village.

Her spine tingled in anticipation of seeing the king's court. She knew that she was no more than a plain country bumpkin to the sophisticated ladies at court, but she cared not. Hannah simply wished to see the sites for herself, to store up a lifetime of memories, so that when she was old and grey, God willing, she could share stories of this adventure with her grandchildren.

Up until this moment, Hannah knew she was singularly uninteresting. Her light brown hair and eyes, her sallow skin and thin frame had nothing to recommend them. She was not overly clever. She boasted no extraordinary skill with music, needlepoint, or healing. Her only claim to fame had been her near abduction by a band of ruffians. Even in that, she hadn't even managed to free herself from their clutches. She had to be rescued by her family.

This adventure would be one filled with glamour and excitement, rather than terror and shame. Hannah longed for something grand to fill her thoughts and her days, for once. Too much sadness and fear had filled her childhood. There must be something better to look forward to.

Running as a wayward child, down the front steps of the keep, Hannah grinned impishly up at the now dapper figure of Mortichai, seated regally in his blue tunic at the wagon's head. “Do ye return victorious?” she called up, grinning.

“In most ways, aye, My Lady,” Mortichai smiled back. “Although, I do have some happenstances to report back to Lord Sanders.”

Hannah's chest sang with excitement. Reaching up to pat the horse's neck, she looked expectantly at Mortichai. “Take good care of Heath and Heather, Mortichai. They taught me to ride, and I shall never forget them.”

“I shall, My Lady. Thou hast my word,” Mortichai dipped his head resolutely and marched off towards Sir Gavin and the main hall.

Hannah awaited Sir Gavin's man, as he loosed the horses from their carriage and followed him into the horse barn. “I will brush them down,” she assured him, as he placed each in a stall. “I would like to say goodbye.”

Although Sir Gavin's entourage had come boasting eight strong and brave horses, Hannah had grown up with Heath and Heather. The mare and stallion had been her steadfast companions. Hannah thought back to the day when Sara turned the dogs loose in the exterior woods. Oh, how she had cried to lose their company.

“We can't afford to feed such regal beasts, Hannah,” Sara had comforted. “They are strong and can find their own food in the woods.”

Hannah had spent days on end after that, brushing and braiding Heather's mane, racing Heath through the tall grass along the creek's steep embankment. If it hadn't been for these two horses, she would have never made it through the loss of the staff, the loss of her father and her brother.

Now, like so many others in her life, they were leaving, too. She knew they were the least valuable horses in the stock now, with the war horses Sir Gavin brought. Yet, to her, they were priceless. One last time, Hannah threw a blanket over Heath's back and led the two horses out of their stalls and to the fenced-in pasture beyond. She needed to ride with them one last time, to say her final goodbyes.

~

Sir David could not believe his luck. He had only needed to backtrack a few hours up the road to find where Sir Gavin's men had camped for the night. Apparently, they had not wished to continue in the dark.

Just before dawn, Sir David slipped back into the wagon's slatted cage and positioned himself behind a barrel and some food stuffs he found stored there. He would have preferred to ride on “the hounds,” the broad support beam behind the axle, but this wagon's frame stood exposed, for all the world to see. It would never serve as a hiding place, and he would just have to make do.

The achingly slow ride proved fruitful, however. The wagon was welcomed into the keep. Sir David's patience was sorely tested, however, as he had to wait for the soldiers to disburse before he could ease out of the top of the polk in broad daylight. Lying flat on his stomach, heart racing, Sir David wondered for not the first time, what he was really doing.

What could he possibly hope to gain from this experience but a swift death?
Better than a long-suffering sham
e
, he thought to himself dramatically as he swung his legs over the side of the wagon cage and dropped soundlessly onto the balls of his feet. If his cruel brothers had taught him anything growing up, it was how to stay hidden.

Off in the distance, Sir David spied a girl on a horse. No one seemed to be accompanying her. Stealthily, he moved along the edge of the barn and out into the tall grass. Crouching low, beneath the tops of their feathered tips, Sir David managed to position his long, lean frame directly in the path of the horse Hannah rode.

Just as she galloped past, he leaped up and grabbed her from her mount. The horse reared and neighed, pounding frightfully close to their heads. Sir David shielded Hannah's body with his own, forcefully restraining her struggles with brute strength.

Moving on sheer instinct, Sir David grabbed the girl about the waist and dragged her toward the steep embankment.

Hannah overcame her initial shock and stiffened as if to scream. Before she could, however, Sir David shoved his handkerchief in her mouth and proceeded doggedly toward his goal. Hannah clawed and rolled in her attacker's arms, overcoming her lack of strength with a dauntless will to survive.

Sir David was equally determined. The moment he crossed the frigid stream, David dropped her unceremoniously on the ground. He succeeded in knocking the air from her lungs. “N-now, if ye don't wish me to conk ye in the head, then I suggest ye stop fight'n me afore ye get us both killed, fallen down this cliff.”

Hannah looked up at Sir David's chiseled visage, her large doe eyes wide and frightened. She did not move to escape.

Thus reassured, Sir David flung Hannah's limp form over his shoulder and edged down the embankment, with the aid of a sturdy vine. He did not have the benefit of a boat to carry them swiftly down river. Instead, he would have to haul his valuable cargo on foot and that would take precious time. Lucky for Sir David, Sir Gavin owned no dogs for tracking.

With luck, he could camp out in a cave tonight and make his way back to his father's keep.
Ye
a,
what then
?
he thought morosely. Lord Polk was likely to turn Hannah Sanders over to his brother, John, to wed and bed. In that way, John could gain the title.
Think, David, thin
k
, he ordered himself. How could he keep the girl, and the glory for himself?

~

Sara looked down at her sleeping babe and smiled. Only two weeks old and already the child's cheeks and belly had rounded out nicely.
She should make it through winte
r
, Sara sighed. All too many bairns did not. Walking toward the narrow window of the solar, Sara's smile widened to see Hannah riding about with her horses. Twas good for the girl to get out and active once more. She had been so melancholy since the death of her father and brother.

Many did not recognize the subtle beauty within Hannah, but as she sat astride the chestnut stallion, her tan hair flying behind her, she seemed a young Diana on the hunt. Sara could not love another creature more than she loved these two daughters. Hannah, with fierce loyalty and pride, and Elizabeth, with deep protection and affection.

Suddenly, the scene changed before her. Hannah must have fallen. The horse had reared, spooked by something...bees, perhaps? Was Hannah okay? The grass rippled, and the horse ran off...Sara could not see what had become of Hannah. Watching just long enough to see that Hannah had not rallied from her fall, Sara scooped Elizabeth into her arms and rushed down the stone steps to seek help.

Where was everyone? Millie must be in the sunken kitchen, preparing the noonday meal. She would find help in the bailey. Stepping out into the sun, Sara was momentarily blinded, her panic rising as her mother's instincts told her something was terribly wrong with her eldest daughter. Strong hands encased her arms.

“Is everything alright?” Gavin questioned, concern in his voice for her abrupt appearance.

“Nay, Gavin, tis not. I saw Hannah fall from her horse in the far pasture. Please, for the love of God, go after her!”

Gavin nodded and jogged out towards the pasture.

Hannah sank upon the stone steps and began to pray that everything would be fine, that Hannah had only been stunned and had soon rallied from her fall. “Please, God, do not allow Death to stalk my family once more.”

Long minutes dragged by until Sara could bear it no more. Rushing along the side of the keep, she stepped down into the kitchen. “Millie!” she called abruptly. “Take Elizabeth. Hannah is hurt.” Shoving the infant in her companion's arms, she grabbed the bottom of her gown, leaped up the kitchen steps, and ran towards the outer pasture.

Heath and Heather stood, grazing amid Sir Gavin's other horses. Gavin and Hannah, however, were no where to be found. Using the alignment of the solar's window to locate approximately where she saw Hannah fall, Sara scanned the field. Her gut clenched in fear, as she noted how close they were to the steep embankment.

Could Hannah have wandered and toppled off, disoriented from her fall? Rushing over to the edge, she saw Gavin, scaling the steep slope by aid of a vine that grew along the roots of the trees there. Silently, she watched his progress and his focus.

When Gavin reached the bottom, he walked around in a small circle, then crouched to look at something in the mud.

“What is it?” Sara called. “Where is Hannah?”

Gavin looked up at his bride and shook his head. “I believe that Hannah has been kidnapped.”

Sara froze, then a small shaking began in her core, spreading to her outer extremities. “That cannot be. I saw for myself that she fell. Perhaps she simply climbed down and went for her own adventure. She did so when I got rid of her dogs, Gavin. Mayhap she is angry with me for giving away her horses and has gone for a bit of an escape.”

“There are two pairs of imprints here, Sara. Hannah's imprints show only once, then deeper prints, of a tall man show heavier, as if she were carried off.”

Sara sank to the ground, adrift in anguish. “God's teeth, Gavin, save her!”

Gavin sighed and looked up at Sara's stricken features. How had he failed these two women yet again? Would he ever be able to keep them safe? “Send Thomas and James after me. James knows how to track, and Tom is a strong fighter. We will get her back Sara, make haste!”