Haunted Knights (Montbryce~The Next Generation Historical Romance) (21 page)

Paulina was awed as Malraux led them into Caen. Her hands were bound and she was wedged between two small iron chests, clinging to the strap that secured them to the donkey. Letyce sulked, seemingly slow to recover from
mal de mer
. Her sneering smile had flickered only once when she espied the animal Paulina was to ride.

Ignoring Letyce’s pouting glare, Paulina gazed at the soaring towers of the two
Abbayes
built by William the Conqueror, one for men, the other for women. She had secretly dreamed of a day she might visit the tomb of the Conqueror’s wife, Matilda, marked by a black slab under the choir of the
Abbaye aux Dames
. Now there was no hope of venturing inside.

As they rode on through the cobbled streets, a shiver snaked up her spine at the forbidding sight of Caen Castle, citadel of Robert Curthose, Duke of Normandie.

Here was the seat of a power that threatened peace in England and Normandie. Vincent and Lucien had explained to her the ongoing political struggle between Curthose and his brother, King Henry.

Denis had told her of the Montbryces’ support for Henry and Curthose’s anger over what he perceived as betrayal. It was rumoured he blamed the Montbryces for the failure of his invasion of England two years earlier. Little had she known she would be passing within a stone’s throw of Curthose’s gates.

They lodged in the home of a kinsman of Malraux’s. He led the donkey into the stable and plucked her from between the chests. “You’ll sleep here,” he said gruffly.

Anger flared. “I am not an animal to sleep in a stable. You promised a bath.”

He chuckled. “Fiery little gnat, aren’t you! There’s water in yon horse trough. Goodnight.”

She watched him swagger off, his arm wrapped possessively around Letyce’s shoulders. They were confident she would not escape, and indeed where would she go in this hostile town? But they were mistaken if they thought they had cowed her. She determined to watch and wait for the right moment. She had barely tasted freedom, and they had taken it away. She would not go meekly to whatever fate they had planned for her.

A curious stable lad unburdened the donkey and led it into a stall. He gawked at her, seemingly uncertain. She put her hands on her hips. “Leave me be.”

To her surprise, he scarpered. She gritted her teeth, found a bucket, and dipped it in the frigid water. The donkey raised its head from the feed bag and fixed its large brown eye on her as she huddled in the corner of its stall, washing as best she could. She stayed as far away from the animal as possible, though sooner or later she would need its warmth or she might freeze to death. Carnac had left her no blanket to ward off the autumn chill.

She knew nothing about making friends, especially with an animal, but fancied knowing a name might help. “I am Paulina,” she whispered to the curious beast. “What is your name?”

She covered her ears, hunching her shoulders as the donkey brayed a loud response, its belly heaving, nostrils flaring.

Determined not to show fear, Paulina responded, “I see. Your name is Soufflette, because you sound like the bellows Agnès pumped mightily to get the fire going in our grate.”

She doused a spark of nostalgia for the cozy chambers at Kingston Gorse and set about arranging a bed in the straw.

~~~

They travelled south from Caen through the flat fields and plains of Normandie. Paulina was not permitted to control the donkey, but her fear of the animal lessened. It seemed that once the beast had a name, it was less intimidating. She was relieved not to be riding a horse, such as Letyce’s palfrey. At least a fall from a donkey would not be from as great a height.

Letyce’s only interaction with Paulina consisted of sneers and snide remarks about being afraid of horses. Paulina did her best to conceal her growing level of comfort with the donkey.

Let her think what she will.

Letyce’s main preoccupation was with Malraux de Carnac. She flirted with him constantly, fluttering her eyelashes, and thrusting her breasts. Her behaviour disgusted Paulina. Did the woman not see the contempt in Malraux’s eyes?

Malraux fondled Letyce’s breasts frequently, on horseback! Horrified as she was, Paulina’s body heated at the thought of Denis putting his hands on her breasts. Why had she treated him coldly?

She was certain Denis and Adam had already set out to rescue her, but how would they know where she was? They were headed for Malraux’s lands, but she had no idea where his estates were. It would be foolhardy to rely only on Denis.

She overheard Malraux mention her betrothed more than once. It chilled her. It was as if Malraux wanted Denis to follow them and attempt a rescue.

She determined to watch for an opportunity to escape, though how to accomplish such a thing in unknown foreign territory on a donkey with her hands tied was daunting. But if she did not escape, death awaited, of that she was sure.

They encountered few people on the road. Malraux’s snarls deterred those who gawked at Paulina. Letyce whined when informed they would be avoiding castles and villages. “I cannot sleep out of doors. Why can we not stay where there is a bed?”

Malraux shook his head. “Normandie is a land full of fear and mistrust, divided in two camps, Curthose’s and Henry’s. People are suspicious of strangers. They remain indoors and do not travel about. We will keep to ourselves and avoid arousing interest.”

Each time they espied a castle off in the distance, Letyce sulked, asking petulantly, “And what fine
demesne
are we bypassing now?”

This had a curious effect on Malraux. Instead of ignoring her, he reined them to a halt, announced the name of the castle, assisted her down from her mount, and then drew her behind nearby bushes or trees.

Paulina was left atop the tethered donkey, ignored, watching the placid animal’s ears twitch away flies.

When they emerged, Letyce’s hair and clothing was dishevelled, the pout replaced by a sultry grin.

Malraux constantly complained of their slow pace as he swaggered back to his mount, yet, every hour or two, the scene would be repeated as he and Letyce disappeared into the bushes.

They were rutting dogs, Paulina thought with disgust, but their appetites might provide her only opportunity for escape.

They had been on the road for hours. Paulina was exhausted and barely heard Letyce ask her usual question. Her heart fell as she contemplated another wait while the fools fornicated. She narrowed her eyes in the fading light and in the distance saw the outline of a large castle atop a promontory. It seemed to be flanked by orchards of some kind.

Malraux dismounted, but came to her instead of Letyce. Fear beat a tattoo in her throat. Surely he did not intend to touch her inappropriately? Letyce would tear her apart. He untied her wrists, and put his hands on her waist to lift her down. She beat at his chest, her hands fisted.

He laughed. “What a ferocious little chit you are. Don’t worry; you’re too small for my tastes. We will camp here. Make yourself useful and gather wood for a fire, while Letyce and I entertain each other. It will be a delicious irony for her since yonder is the
demesne
of the mighty Montbryces.”

Fear and elation swirled in Paulina’s heart. They were within sight of Montbryce Castle, stronghold of the
Comte
de Montbryce, Adam’s cousin, Robert! Here was her opportunity, but was she courageous enough to seize it? Malraux evidently judged her too much of a coward to attempt an escape.

Rubbing her wrists, she searched for firewood, all the while watching the Breton and a simpering Letyce saunter off, his hand on her
derrière
.

She looked over to where Malraux had tethered the animals. Impatient for his tryst, he had not removed the saddles. Soufflette turned one sad brown eye to her. Should she attempt escape on the donkey? Would the animal obey her, or balk, sensing her fear? She had heard Soufflette bray. It was enough to wake the dead and would surely bring Malraux running. In any case, the baggage would make a speedy ride impossible.

Letyce’s palfrey stood next to the donkey. If she reached the stirrup and clambered onto the horse, how would she get it to go where she wanted? She closed her eyes, her knees trembling. “Rosa, if only you were here.”

A vision sprang into her memory; Rosamunda, laughing confidently atop Nox the first time she had ever sat a horse. What made her sister a horsewoman?

She shows no fear.

Paulina’s eyes flitted to the only other mount, Malraux’s enormous gelding. Not an option. It had to be the palfrey. She took a deep breath, dropped the kindling she had gathered, and strode over to the horse, brushing dirt from her hands.

The forlorn look in Soufflette’s eyes undid her. She stopped a moment to kiss the donkey’s nose and rub her ears. It came to her then, like a thunderbolt, that she was not afraid of Soufflette.

This gave her courage. Willing her hands not to shake, she untied the palfrey’s tether. The animal shifted, making it difficult to get her foot in the stirrup. She prayed the donkey would not sound the alarm.

Moans of pleasure drifted from the bushes. The palfrey’s ears pricked up. Paulina hung on to the saddle for dear life, but the animal refused to stand still. The gelding shifted nervously. Sweat trickled down Paulina’s spine. The lovebirds would soon return.

She looked the horse in the eye, pointed a rigid finger at it, and whispered through gritted teeth, “Be still.”

To her surprise, the horse obeyed. Her foot slipped into the stirrup just as she feared her hipbone might break. She struggled to lie belly down on the saddle, then swung her leg over. She tightened her grip on the reins, dug in her calves, and turned the horse in the direction of the castle.

~~~

Paulina would not later recall much of the ride, except the mind-numbing terror of it. Her feet dangled above the stirrups. The horse seemed determined to go in a direction that would take her past her goal by a mile. She dared not turn around to look behind, but there was no mistaking the sounds of a horse in hot pursuit.

Malraux!

He yelled curses and threats. She curled her body lower, clinging to the mane, willing the horse to make for the safety of the castle.

She would never know if it was someone lighting torches on the battlements to dispel the gathering darkness that caught the horse’s attention, or if it sensed the presence of other animals. In any event, the palfrey changed its course, headed straight for the castle’s walls.

She remembered Malraux’s caution that guards would be on the watch for intruders. How to make them see she was not a threat. Screaming seemed a good idea. She took a deep breath and let out a high pitched wail. It startled the horse into galloping faster. If she fell now—

Her cloak billowed like a flapping sail, and suddenly it was gone, torn away by the cold wind that had already numbed her face into a grimace.

The castle gate loomed up. It was shut. Unless the horse stopped of its own accord, she would be dashed to pieces against the thick wood.

Suddenly the gate crashed open. Horses spilled out, riding towards her. Perhaps they thought it was an attack and had come to thwart her advance. Could they not see she was a woman, a tiny one at that?

Her screams echoed in her ears as she bellowed the first thing that came into her head. “Sancerre! Sancerre! Sancerre!”

~~~

Robert de Montbryce was inspecting the guard on the battlements when he was alerted to the incoming rider. He ordered the torches lit earlier than usual. “Whoever it is approaches at great speed,” he said to his Steward.

Squinting into the gloom of dusk, it was difficult to make out who the rider was. He had flattened his body to the horse, and rode as if the hounds of hell pursued him. As the rider came nearer, Robert gasped. “It’s a child.”

Then another rider, a man, came into view. Robert cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled out an order to the riders waiting below. “It’s a child seeking sanctuary. Ride out to provide safe passage. Another rider is in pursuit.”

From his vantage point he watched the drama unfold. His men-at-arms rode out towards the boy. The rider in pursuit reined his horse to a halt. The boy came on at speed, shrieking something. It sounded like
Saint Cyr
. Why would the lad be—

He gripped his Steward’s arm. “
Dieu
! Can it be Denis’ betrothed, the kidnapped girl of the message brought by pigeon? She has saved us the trouble of rescuing her!”

The pursuing rider directed his mount to where the lost cloak lay. He dismounted quickly, picked it up, then rode away at a gallop.

One of Robert’s outriders grasped the reins of the incoming horse and slowed it to a trot. The woman slumped forward as her mount was led through the gate. Robert hastened down from the battlements to lift her from the snorting horse.

She was tiny! He cradled her in his arms as she sobbed. “You’re safe now. I am Robert de Montbryce.”

Then it occurred to him she was not from Normandie and might not understand his language, so he reassured her in Anglo-Norman. She seemed unable to speak. He carried her into the Keep, where Dorianne waited, having been alerted by the Steward.