La Flamme (Historical Romance) (9 page)

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Sabine rolled her head from side to side, biting her lip to keep from crying out. Why was the woman, Ysabel, hurting her?

"Please, no more," she groaned. "Do not touch my leg. Leave me alone!"

Had Sabine looked into Ysabel's eyes, she would have seen the compassion there. "This I must do, if the leg is to heal properly,
ma petite
."

Sabine pushed Ysabel's hand away. "I was not tortured when I broke my leg the other time. Even though the bone had punctured my skin, still it was not this painful."

"Whoever attended you then was more butcher than physician," Ysabel said scornfully. "I do not like inflicting pain on you, and if it were not necessary, I would not do it."

Ysabel was tall for a woman, and it was difficult to judge her age. Her hair was mostly gray, and she wore it away from her face and hung over her shoulder in a long braid. The blue of her eyes was so pale, that at times they appeared to blend with the whites. At the moment those eyes gleamed with determination.

"Why must you hurt me?"

Ysabel pulled up a stool and took Sabine's hand in hers. "It is for you to decide if you can endure the pain. I will tell you only this—if I stretch the leg and massage the muscles twice a day, it might be that your leg will heal properly and you will no longer be crippled."

Sabine was afraid to hope; surely she had misunderstood. "Are you saying that I will no longer walk with a limp?"

"Of this I cannot be certain. But if you will trust me, I may be able to help you."

Sabine hesitated for only a moment. "I do trust you."

"Then you must decide if you can endure the pain."

"I have not known a day without pain in a very long time. I will endure what I must."

"Shall I continue?"

Sabine licked her dry lips before she answered. "Yes, please do what you can."

"If you feel like screaming, no one will mind."

She nodded as Ysabel began tightening the splints. The pain was so intense that Sabine did indeed scream until she finally lost consciousness.

Three weeks passed and the roads were still unpassable for the heavy wagons. It rained daily, adding to Marie's misery and fueling her temper. Only Richard seemed to calm her.

It was nearing sundown as Sabine sat huddled near the waning campfire, a blanket about her shoulders, her aching leg propped on a low stool. The weather had turned colder, a reminder that winter would soon grip the land.

Sabine watched Marie de Baillard balancing Richard on her knee, while singing a French children's rhyme.

Ysabel approached Sabine, her eyes always searching, probing, as if she could extract the deepest secrets from the young girl's mind. The old woman pulled up a campstool and sat beside her. "Today 1 ventured beyond the nearby village to the village of Woodbridge. There is much crying and sadness there."

Sabine gazed into the fire, afraid to look at Ysabel. "Why should I care about that?"

"I moved among the crowd, telling fortunes to those who would pay, and I am certain their sadness concerns you personally."

Sabine hurriedly attempted to change the subject. "Can you really see into the future?"

"No more than you," Ysabel replied with honesty. "But I long ago learned that people are willing to pay if you tell them what they want to hear. They resent paying for ill tidings, therefore, I always predict good fortune and great love. It matters little what I say, for I am gone long before they discover the truth."

Sabine couldn't keep from laughing. "You are wicked."

Ysabel smiled, easing the deep wrinkles about her mouth. "Perhaps I am. Or, perhaps, I merely play the fox and use my cunning."

Sabine wiggled her foot and stretched it toward the fire. Although the leg still ached, Ysabel had her walk about once in the morning and then again in the evening, and Sabine felt that her leg was growing stronger.

"Sabine, would you not like to hear what I learned about the people in the castle?" Ysabel asked.

A lone tear rolled down Sabine's cheek. "I know what happened—I was there."

Ysabel nodded. "I was certain of that."

She raised her eyes to Ysabel. "Did you hear about... have you word—what happened to Lord Woodbridge?"

Ysabel shifted her weight and poked a stick at the fire, seducing the burning embers into a warming flame that licked at the pot that hung suspended above it.

"It is whispered that the great lord died by treacherous means."

Sabine wiped her tears on the sleeve of her gown. "Then he is dead?"

"
Oui
. The great lord was entombed while you were still out of your head with fever. It is said that his friends and allies are many and that they rally to the castle and village to protect the people. Even the king has sent soldiers."

Sabine glued her eyes to the stew that bubbled in the pot. She would not cry—she must not cry. "Is there nothing more you can tell me?"

"It is also said that the villagers still comb the woods and search the banks of the stream that ran through their master's estate, in hopes of finding the lord's daughter and son. It is feared that they drowned. The people want to find their bodies so they can have a proper burial. It seems that the Woodbridge family was much revered."

Sabine lifted her eyes to Ysabel and saw pity there. "You know who I am, do you not?"

"You are the great lord's daughter, and Richard is his son. From what I gleaned, I should call him Lord Richard, and you are a duchess, are you not?"

Fear tore at Sabine's mind. "No, please do not do use a title when addressing my brother or myself. Did you tell anyone about us?"

"I told only the fortunes of those who paid me the price. No one asked if 1 knew of you or the child, and I did not volunteer any information."

"I don't understand any of what happened," Sabine said, her eyes swimming with tears.

Ysabel watched the girl carefully as she began to speak. "They said also that the duchess's own husband instigated the raid."

Sabine buried her face in trembling hands. "I believe it is the truth. If Garreth Blackthorn has done this, then he may yet be searching for us. Richard and I must leave before we are discovered."

"You cannot leave until your leg knits," Ysabel said firmly. "I will not allow you to undo the healing."

Sabine closed her eyes. "There is no refuge for us. I don't know the faces of all my enemies, or even who I can trust."

"You can trust Jacques and Marie, and you can trust me. You will, I believe, journey with us to France, where you will be safe." Ysabel's eyes grew reflective. "When one has enemies, one must become shrewd."

"My enemy is more influential than you can imagine. He sits on the right hand of the king. With that kind of power, he can reach across the Channel to me.

"Everyone has a weakness, and so does your Garreth Blackthorn. You will allow him to believe that you drowned, while you come to France with us. One day you shall grow strong and confront your enemy—but that day is far away."

Sabine merely lowered her head. "Do Monsieur and Madame de Baillard know our true identities?"

"They have not said so to me—but I believe they have guessed the truth. I shall ask them if you can go with us. I believe they will agree."

"I have been nothing but a burden to the de Baillards and have contributed nothing to our keep." Sabine tugged at the golden chain about her neck. "I have this locket that belonged to my mother—I believe it is very valuable. You could sell it when we are far away from my father's village. Many may have seen my mother wear the locket and recognize it." Sabine held her hand out to Ysabel. "There is also this ring that was given to me by my . . . husband on our wedding day. I fear there is nowhere to sell it because it is engraved with a dragon, the Blackthorn coat-of-arms. There are few in England who would not recognize it."

"Why have you not removed the ring?"

"I . . . do not know. Perhaps I wear it to remind myself to despise the man who put it on my finger."

Ysabel closed her hand over Sabine's. "Keep them both for now. You may have need of them later."

Sabine glanced across the camp where Madame de Baillard still held Richard on her lap. "If anyone objects to our accompanying you to France, I believe it will be madame."

"I do not think so. Marie will be loath to part with your brother, for she has become quite attached to him."

"France," Sabine said wistfully. "I have always wanted to visit the land of my mother's birth, but not as a fugitive."

Ysabel lifted Sabine's hand, turned it over, and studied the palm for a long moment. "France will be good to you. You shall walk in the footsteps of fame."

Sabine smiled. "So, you would practice your witchery on me? Did I not hear you say that you tell people what they wish to hear?"

Ysabel tossed a stick in the fire and watched the sparks fly. "Sometimes the truth comes disguised in the remnants of suspicion to a nonbeliever—but it is the truth nonetheless."

Sabine touched Ysabel's arm. "I know not where my path will lead, but I do know that there are those who wish to harm me and my brother. I would be less than honest if 1 accompanied the de Baillards to France without informing them of the danger to anyone who aids us."

The more Ysabel came to know Sabine, the more she liked her. The young girl was frightened and she did not know where to turn for help, but still she possessed honor and would not put others in danger. "Come, I will assist you into the wagon."

Sabine leaned heavily on Ysabel. Once inside, she eased her weight onto the bed, then Ysabel lifted her foot, placing it on a cushion.

"You are yet young, Sabine. Soon you will take the first step toward tomorrow—there will be pain, but this too shall pass."

"You are not speaking of my leg."

"I speak of your inner self. You have much courage, and it will take you through many difficult times."

"1 do not feel that I have courage." Sabine stared down at the ring for a moment before yanking if off her finger. "I no longer need this to remind me that evil often appears in the form of goodness. How could the same man who held me comfortingly in his arms while I wept for my mother, take the life of my father?"

"Have courage,
ma petite
. Tomorrow the roads will be dry enough to travel, and we will leave this place."

"Ysabel, you have taken Richard and me into your wagon, giving us your bed, while you sleep on the floor. How can we repay your kindness?"

"Kindness is its own reward. Once someone helped me when my need was great."

"Who, Ysabel?"

"The de Baillards."

Sabine studied her bare hand, wishing she dared throw Garreth's ring out the window, for the sight of it offended her. Instead, she clutched it so tightly it cut into her palm. "I am angry that I was forced to leave my own home. 1 want to go to my husband and . . . and plunge a knife into his black heart for his treachery."

"Face your grief now, and later, when you are stronger, you can face the anger. I would caution you that revenge is destructive, oft times harming the innocent." The old woman moved toward the door. "I will go now to speak to Marie and Jacques, then I shall bring Richard to you."

When Ysabel left, Sabine allowed hot tears to flood her eyes. "Oh,
Maman
, the pain in my leg is nothing compared to the pain I feel in my heart. What shall I do—what shall I do?"

Marie de Baillard still sat on the steps, holding Richard, while Jacques was gathering their supplies and loading the wagon.

"I'll take Richard to his sister," Ysabel said, reaching for the young boy. "I will surely miss them when we leave tomorrow."

Marie tightened her arms protectively about him. "What do you mean, old woman? Those two children will be coming with us."

"I merely supposed that you would not want to be bothered with them, and that they would be left behind."

"The girl is not well enough to be on her own, much less take care of this precious child," Marie stated, glancing at her husband. "Tell Ysabel that they must come with us, Jacques."

He smiled at Ysabel, realizing the game she was playing, then turned to his wife and sighed regretfully. "We cannot keep them with us, Marie—you know this. We have no coins for food. We may even be forced to sell the wagons to pay our fare home."

"You will not sell my wagon. We will find another way to get home. Have we not always managed? This wagon is the only home that ever belonged to me, and i will not return to France without it."

"We have never been this desperate," Ysabel said.

Marie stood up, her eyes sparkling angrily. "Do you think me a fool, old woman?"

Ysabel met her gaze squarely. "I have never considered you a fool, Marie."

Marie nodded. "I know the identity of the girl and boy, and I know that they are in danger. So, I refuse to leave them behind to be murdered. They go with us when we leave in the morning." Marie looked first at Ysabel and then at her husband, daring either of them to contradict her. "That is the way it's to be, and I've said my last word on the matter."