Hannah Howell (9 page)

Revan cursed as he overheard Thomas’s plan. He had hoped that the men would not have expected anyone to chase after Tess. That they had not only expected it but wanted him to do so would make Tess’s rescue much more difficult—if not impossible.

Lying on his stomach in the midst of a thicket and hidden from sight, he had a good view of the campsite. He tried to bolster himself with the fact that he had managed to draw so close to the camp he could hear the plots against him yet had not been espied by his enemies. There was too much to worry about, however. Was his mount far enough away to remain undetected? Would Tess be hurt or killed in the course of any rescue attempt? Each plan of action he devised held more chance of failure than he would have liked.

The plan he finally chose also held a great opportunity for utter failure, but he had no choice. He would decrease the numbers arrayed against him by silencing the two men sent outside of the campsite. Revan was confident he could do that much without difficulty. The problem would come when he went to fetch his horse. He would have to hope that, in the interval between silencing the guards and riding in to grab Tess, no one thought to check on the two sent out to be sentries. He also had to hope that Tess had the wit to react immediately and properly when he did ride into camp. Bursting into the camp would give him the element of surprise, but that would be lost if Tess did not react as he needed her to. All he could do was pray that all went well, and that Tess’s wit was as strong as ever.

He silently cursed again. His chosen hiding place was almost painfully uncomfortable. Sharp sticks and thorns jabbed at him from all angles. It was going to be a long night, he decided as he prepared to await his chance.

When Thomas set a tin plate of lumpy porridge in her lap, Tess stared at it a moment before looking up at him. “I canna eat this.”

“ ’Tis all ye will get, wench. So eat it and shut your mouth.”

“I intend to eat it, ill-made though it is. But I canna do so with my wrists bound, can I?”

“Ye must think I am as dumb as mud.”

Tess forced herself not to respond. Insulting Thomas was all too easy, but it would gain her nothing. She needed her wrists untied and not simply to eat the poor fare he had set before her. Her hands would soon be useless, and, when and if she had a chance to escape, she might not be able to grasp it if she did not get some respite from her bonds.

“If ye willna untie me, then someone must feed me. I canna feed myself with my wrists bound like this.”

“All right, curse you, but just until ye have finished eating.” He untied her, then ordered, “Donald, ye come and sit by this wench and watch her closely.” The moment Donald was squatted by Tess, Thomas went back to the campfire to talk to the two men still seated there.

It was several moments before Tess could even begin to eat. She needed to rub the feeling back into her hands. Grimacing as she picked up the spoon, she ate the porridge, idly wishing that her ability to taste had become as numb as her hands had been. The porridge was gray, stodgy, and lumpy, as well as cold, but she was hungry. It was undoubtedly the worst porridge she had ever eaten. She concentrated on what Thomas and the other men talked of in the vain hope that she could forget what she was putting into her mouth.

“John, I want you and Wallace to take the first watch outside the camp,” ordered Thomas.

“Why must we be the first?” complained John.

“First or last—what matter?”

“If it doesna matter, then ye and Donald can take the first one.”

Thomas spat out a foul oath, then called to Donald, “Come with me. We are to take the first watch.” When Donald stood up and started toward him, he snapped, “Tie the bitch back up first, ye great fool.”

Tess winced as Donald roughly yanked her hands in front of her and tightly rebound them. She had not been granted as long a respite as she had hoped for. As Donald and Thomas disappeared into the night-shrouded forest, she looked toward John and Wallace. The way the two men were staring at her and exchanging hurried whispers made her nervous. She was suddenly convinced that the condition of her hands and wrists would soon be the very least of her troubles. Tess recognized the narrowed glances they were slanting her way. Lust, in its ugliest form.

Attempting to distract them, she struggled to her feet. Both men immediately stood up and took a few steps toward her. For a brief moment she thought about calling out to Thomas and Donald but quickly discarded the idea. She could not be certain those two would stop these men from raping her. They could just as easily join in.

“And just where do ye think ye are going?” demanded John as he cautiously edged toward her.

“To Canterbury to have a wee chat with the archbishop.” That he was so clearly prepared for her to try and bolt did not bode well for her chances of eluding him and his hulking companion. “ ’Tis about time I took myself a pilgrimage.”

“Ye are a saucy wench. Too quick of tongue by far.”

“I need to walk about some. Riding all day as we did has left me sore and cramped.” She began to slowly pace in a circle; John and Wallace moved to flank her.

“A wench like yourself ought to be well accustomed to that. I wager ye have been riding Sir Halyard day and night.”

“Such wit. Ye must have the guardroom at my uncle’s keep rocked with hilarity day and night.”

Wallace chuckled and John flushed, glaring even harder at Tess. “Ye are a sour-tongued wench. I mean to mend that, I do. I have got something here that will sweeten you up.” He leered at her.

It was difficult to stifle her panic, but Tess maintained a calm facade as she continued to idly pace. “So, ye mean to rape me. My, how surprising.” She paused briefly to send him a hard, cold stare. “Ye touch me, lay even one filthy finger upon me, and I shall see ye roasting in Hell’s fires.”

For a moment both men simply stared at her, their mouths slightly agape, with a look of shock and a hint of fear. Tess began to walk again. She knew that soon their torpid minds would conclude that her threat was heartfelt but empty. Since the moment she reached her uncle’s she would be murdered, there would be no chance for her to avenge whatever indignities they now forced upon her. As far as she could see, only a miracle could save her now. Such things had been very scarce in her short life. She prayed that, if she was unable to escape rape, it would not scar the memories of all she had shared with Revan.

 

 

Revan carefully lowered Thomas’s limp body to the ground. He knew it would have been wiser to kill both Thomas and Donald instead of just rendering them unconscious. However, he had never had the stomach for slipping a knife into an unsuspecting man. Wrapping his arm about their throats and banging them offside the head with a rock was about as underhanded as he could tolerate. As he took one last look at Tess before he retrieved his horse, Revan decided it was time he overcame such niceties of feeling.

When he saw what was happening in camp, Revan nearly charged straight in. Neither man was touching Tess, yet their intentions were blatantly clear. He ached to end their slow advance on Tess, wanted to stop them before they could even lay a hand on her, but he knew that would be a mistake. The two men had the look of mercenaries and were both older and heavier than he. For them to have survived so long in such a brutal craft, they had to have skill. He dared not chance a direct battle with war-hardened men. It might be more heroic, but right now it was far more important to free Tess.

He took one brief but close look at her. She appeared unaware of the danger, calmly walking in a circle, but then he saw her hands. Tess had them clasped together so tightly her knuckles were bone white. She knew exactly what was about to happen and was fighting to be brave. He was filled with admiration for her but knew now was not the time to indulge in it. She was more in need of rescue than respect.

With extreme care Revan crept away from the campsite. As soon as he felt confident that no one there could hear him, he began to move faster. He soon raced for his horse. Time was not something he had much of, not if he was going to stop those men from touching Tess. He admitted to himself that, while fear for Tess was certainly part of what drove him, so was possession. The thought of another man touching Tess, especially if she was unwilling, brought forth a strong emotion within him, and it was sheer blinding rage.

Revan threw himself on the back of his mount. For a little while he held the horse to a slow and cautious pace through the wood. As he drew closer to the small clearing where the camp was, the trees began to thin out. He urged his horse to a faster pace until soon he was racing toward the camp at a full gallop, his mount’s pounding hoofbeats echoing through the night-shadowed forest.

Tess stiffened as John reached out for her. However, his hand never touched her, for he paused, frowning as he looked toward the woods that encircled them. It took her a moment to still the pounding in her ears caused by her growing fear, but then she heard what he had—hoofbeats. The sound echoed through the wood in such a way it was difficult to tell from which direction they came or even how many horsemen there were. An instant later a lone rider burst into the clearing, and Tess knew the sweet, heady taste of renewed hope.

“Revan,” she whispered as he rode straight toward her and her two erstwhile assailants.

Wallace flung himself out of harm’s way, but John stood where he was, gaping. Revan kicked him full in the face as he rode by. He sped past Tess, then turned his mount and headed back in her direction. She held out her bound hands. Easing the pace of his horse, Revan grabbed her by the ropes about her wrists and yanked her up across the saddle in front of him. He had to grasp her by the hem of her doublet and give her an added boost to steady her before he could urge his mount to a greater speed.

Wallace and John were on their feet and drawing their swords by the time Revan had his horse up to a pace that enabled him to elude them. Keeping his mount at a speed that allowed for some small measure of caution, Revan plunged back into the wood, leaving Wallace and John bellowing for Thomas and Donald. He knew all four men would be on his trail as soon as they were able.

Tess struggled not to complain and thus distract Revan as they made their swift but precarious way through the trees. For as long as she could she endured being flung over the saddle like a sack of grain. Her stomach was roiling from being bounced against the hard saddle, and her head pulsed with pain. Finally she had to speak out. Even if it cost them a few precious moments of delay, she had to get upright.

“Revan.” Her voice wavered in time with the horse’s pace and was weakened by her breathlessness. “I canna bear it any longer. Let me up.”

“Sorry, lass,” he said as he quickly reined to a halt, then helped her sit up. “We canna pause to rest,” he added as he neatly untied her wrists. “Those fools will soon be after us.”

“Ah, so after riding all day, they now force us to ride all night.”

“I fear so, loving. We will rest when I feel certain we have placed a safe distance between us and them and find a secure place to camp.”

She sighed with resignation as he spurred the horse onward again. All she could do was hold on and pray that they did not have some terrible accident while riding in the treacherous shadowy landscape of night.

The light hurt Tess’s eyes. Cursing softly, she closed them again. It could not have been more than a few minutes since they had stopped fleeing her uncle’s hirelings. Revan could not be so cruel as to make her rise so soon after she had lain down, yet that had to be his booted foot nudging her in the back. As she turned onto her back, she mused groggily that the moss-covered ground did not feel as soft and welcoming as it had when she had first spread a blanket over it and collapsed onto the rough bed. She glared at Revan.

“Ye said we would rest,” she grumbled. “I have barely gotten myself settled.”

“I fear ye are in error, dearling. Ye have been deeply asleep for nearly six hours. Can ye not recall that ’twas just dawn when we halted, yet ’tis now high nooning.” He pointed up at the sun.

“It doesna feel like hours since I closed my eyes, but mere moments.”

He gave her a smile full of sympathy as he helped her to her feet. She stretched and rubbed the small of her back as she looked around. They were in a gully between two hillsides, probably the result of past, heavy winter runoffs. It was a good hiding place, but, seeing Revan already packing up their meager belongings, she knew they had lingered as long as he could allow them to.

She quickly moved to the shelter of some scrub bushes to relieve herself. Returning to their small campsite, she took the waterskin from Revan’s mount and sparingly washed up. She was still too sleepy to talk so ate in silence as they shared a small breakfast of the ever-present porridge. It was not until they were mounted and on their way that she saw the bald carcasses of two birds dangling from a rope tied to his saddle.

“So ye did catch some game,” she murmured, idly deciding that, although it was pleasant to ride along wrapped in his arms, she preferred riding behind him. It was far less confining and she could hang on to his strong body if the need arose.

“Aye. When we camp for the night, we can have ourselves a fine feast.”

“There is something to look forward to.”

“ ’Twas tempting to cook them this morning, but I dared not build too large a fire. So I but readied them for roasting as ye snored.”

“I dinna snore.”

“Nay, of course not.”

She ignored his soft laughter. “I thank ye for coming to my rescue. In truth, I didna expect ye to. After all, ye must get to the king. Then, too, ye had to ken that they would set a trap for you.”

“Oh, aye. I could see how they could use you to bait it, although I was a wee bit surprised to find that they had the wit for such a plan. If I had had any doubts about your fate, I wouldna have come after you.” He was not so sure he spoke the truth but forced the weight of confidence into his voice. “If pressed, I can claim ye were needed to further the cause of King James. After all, ye were privy to much of what was said and done at your uncle’s.”

“ ’Tis ever wise to plan one’s excuses beforehand.” She smiled faintly when he chuckled. “I dinna think I was ever so pleased to see anyone in all my born days.”

“ ’Twas clear to see that ye were in some trouble.”

“Aye, but I was planning my escape.”

“Ah, of course.”

The sarcastic tone of his voice prompted her to insist, “I was.”

They began to amiably argue the chances of her escaping without his aid. Tess knew she had had no chance at all but felt obligated to diminish his arrogance. It struck her as decidedly odd that their pleasant bickering should make her feel good. His somewhat bland explanation for why he had come after her had stung a little. This evidence of an easy camaraderie between them soothed that. He might not feel the depth of emotion she wished him to, but he was not indifferent, either.

It was not long before she became drowsy. Resting against Revan’s broad back, she gave in to it, slipping into a pleasant state of half-sleep. She knew he would warn her when and if she needed to be alert.

 

 

“Tess,” whispered Revan. “Tessa, ye must wake up. We need to hide ourselves for a while.”

Surprised that she had fallen completely asleep yet not fallen off the horse, Tess struggled to fully wake up. Revan was urging his mount through a thick copse of trees on the brow of a small hill. A quick glance up at the sky told her it was midafternoon. She wondered briefly how far they had managed to travel while she had been slumped unawares against Revan. What she did not immediately see was why Revan believed they had to hide themselves away for a time.

Revan halted his horse, dismounted, and quickly helped her down from the saddle. “There are some men in the hollow.”

“Douglas men? Or my uncle’s?” she asked as he looped his mount’s reins over a branch of an alder tree.

“I didna wait to see.” He took her by the hand and led her toward the edge of the hill overlooking the hollow. “I thought it best to try and judge that whilst still unseen.”

He laid down on his stomach, and she did the same. Tess inched forward over the rocky ground right along with him. She wondered why he did not wince and decided his front was a lot harder than hers. Once at the very edge of the hill she looked down into the hollow but saw nothing. She frowned at Revan.

“I see no one. Are ye certain there are men near at hand?”

“Very certain. I was about to take the same path they are. They startled some birds, and so I saw them in time to elude them. I turned round and set this hill between us. There—look.”

Tess strained forward to get a better look as riders entered the hollow between the hill she and Revan crouched on and the one opposite them. There were at least twenty men. She frowned at the pair who led the small force. Something was very familiar about the man who rode the heavy-set black stallion with the white stockings. She was not sure if it was the horse she recognized or the man who rode it, but the shock of familiarity could not be denied. Tess wished she could remember where or when she had seen the man. It would explain why the sight of him with this small force alarmed her so.

“Douglas men,” Revan hissed. “They ride to join the earl’s traitorous army.”

“Are ye certain, Revan?” Tess thought she recognized the colors the men wore as those of the Douglases, but she was not sure. She had never done a serious study of heraldry.

“Aye. Though they dinna fly his banner, most wear the earl’s colors. Except for the man on the black stallion and the two men riding directly behind him. They wear no man’s colors,” he muttered.

“And that is a bad thing?” She began to wish she had paid more heed to the ways of knights and soldiers so that she did not have to ask Revan so many questions now.

“ ’Tis suspicious. A man wears his colors to be marked as friend as well as foe. Such markings can save him from being struck down by his own allies. Nay, a man usually has a good reason for not wearing his colors when he goes abroad. He clearly feels he risks more by being identified.”

“Simon wore no colors,” she murmured, staring at the man they discussed.

“Simon was spying.” He frowned. “A spy marks himself as no man’s or any man’s. He must not be seen as an enemy to those he would spy upon, and he doesna want his friends to see him with the enemy and thus mark him as a traitor. The question must be—which does this man fear? That he is exposed to his friends or to his foes?”

“Such intrigues. Why must they go on?”

“Power, loving. Those who have none crave some, and many who have some crave more.”

She glanced at him to catch him frowning at her. “Is there something wrong?”

“I but puzzled over the way ye stare at that man so hard.”

Tess sighed. “I canna shake the feeling that I have seen him before. The pity is, I canna recall the when nor the where. Yet something within me tells me ’tis very important that I do. I feel both recognition and alarm when I look upon him. ’Tis so important, I ken it, yet, curse my addled brain, the memory willna come.”

“Mayhaps if we draw closer.” Taking her by the hand, he urged her to follow as he crept through the undergrowth covering the rocky hillside. “Ye may just be too distant to see what would bring forth the memory.”

“Is that not a bit risky?” She struggled to creep along, keeping hidden in the trees and undergrowth but not stumbling, thus giving them away. “I thought we were supposed to be hiding.”

“ ’Tis best if we are unseen, but this could be very important.”

“This could also be but foolishness, simply my mind playing tricks upon me.”

“I canna believe ye are subject to such fancies.”

“I thank ye for that confidence in me. I pray it isna unearned.”

Tess studied the man when they paused halfway down the hillside. He was tall and bone thin. His face was of a hawkish cast. The closer look did bring a stronger sense of recognition. It also increased her sense of alarm.

She edged even closer. To her horror her foot loosened a few stones, and they tumbled noisily down the hillside. She and Revan held themselves tensely still, but it did no good. A man heard, then saw the stones, and his gaze followed their path back up the hill. Despite their cover, he saw Revan and Tess and cried out an alarm.

Revan cursed, grabbed Tess by the hand, and raced back up the hill. The few times she stumbled, he did not hesitate but dragged her along until she regained her footing. Once he reached his horse, he threw her into the saddle, unhitched the animal, and flung himself up behind her.

“Hang on, lass,” he ordered as he urged his steed down the hillside away from those men now racing to catch them. “We shall have a hard ride to shake these curs.”

Since he had put her in front of him, she had only the saddle pommel or the horse’s mane to cling to. She chose the mane, for it gave her a better hold. It also forced her to lean forward out of Revan’s way.

As they came down off of the hill, men closed in on them from the right and the left. More came from behind, having charged up the hill only to chase Revan back down another slope. Revan spurred his mount forward through the only opening left—straight ahead. Tess felt the wind stirred by the swing of swords, but she and Revan slipped through the closing net unscathed. Douglas’s men bellowed their frustration and, despite a moment’s confusion as they all fought to change direction, were soon after her and Revan.

She began to fear for Revan’s poor horse as they thundered over the rough ground. It could not possibly carry the two of them for very long at full speed. They kept a safe distance between them and their pursuers, the occasional arrow shot falling uselessly short, but they could not lengthen that span. It seemed to her that it was simply a matter of whose mount began to tire sooner. Tess prayed it was not Revan’s horse that faltered first.

“ ’Twill be hazardous ahead, loving!” Revan shouted. “Hold tight, for I mean to try twisting and turning until I lose them.”

Ahead of them lay a thick wood. It would take skill to wend their way through, and Revan intended to make it even more difficult for them by veering erratically. Tess closed her eyes and began to pray as they plunged into the forest.

Finally the horse’s pace eased, and she no longer needed to concentrate on staying in the saddle. Little by little she eased the stiffness within her body, a stiffness born as much from fear as from holding the same awkward pose for too long. By the time she was sitting upright, Revan had reined his horse in to a slow walk. The poor animal was weary, but Tess felt confident that it would recover. She turned her thoughts to their pursuers but could neither see nor hear them.

“Have we lost them, then?” she asked and slumped against Revan.

“Aye, dearling, I believe we have.”

“So your weaving and veering worked.”

“Well, aye, though a bit of luck didna hurt, either. The poor fools got themselves all atangle. The last I heard, their leader was bellowing for them to rally round him, that they didna have the time to waste on such a mad chase.”

“Which would mean that they are expected to be at a muster somewhere and soon.”

“ ’Twould seem so. They could have run us down, but they didna wish to spend any longer at the game.”

“Do ye think they recognized us?”

“Nay. They would never have given up the chase had they kenned who we were. They probably thought us just curious lads and decided we couldna have heard anything of much importance.”

“Yet they chased us.” She did not dare to think the danger had passed quite so easily.

“Well, we bolted. ’Twas natural for them to give chase. It may have just taken them a while to decide that we couldna have learned anything worth tiring their horses over.”

“I pray ye are right. ’Tis difficult to set aside one’s fears, though. So what do we do now? Stay within the forest?”

“Not in this part. ’Tis so close to where we finally shook our hunters that I wouldna dare to light a fire. And we have some fowl to roast, aye?”

“Aye.” She smiled when she felt him kiss her ear. “I do look forward to that.”

“And ye shall have it as soon as I can find us a clearing. This poor lad needs a rest and some water as well.” He reached around her to pat his mount’s neck. “I hate to lose the last hour or so of daylight, but I canna push him any harder.”

“Nay, he must rest. What is his name? I have never heard ye call him by any name.”

Revan cleared his throat, then grimaced when she looked at him over her shoulder. “He doesna have a name.”

“Ye havena named the poor fellow? Everyone names his mount. Is he a new one, then?”

“Nay, I have had him for nigh on three years. I just havena given it much thought. So I just call him Horse.”

“That is no proper name! Nay, especially not after all he has done for us. I shall have to give the matter some thought. He needs a name to suit his skill and speed. Horse—humph! I am amazed he hasna tossed ye right out of the saddle ere now. Ye have no doubt sorely bruised his pride and vanity.” She patted the animal’s neck. “I shall think of a name that will make this poor gelding feel the stallion again.”