The Protector (36 page)

His breath caught.
Nay
. If he thought that his voice would carry that far, he would have hurled the command at them.

Cresting the hill, lumbering into view, came a large wagon pulled by two horses. He cursed inwardly as it rolled slowly down the slope.

Below him Gurwant snapped alert, and the twenty men with him deployed themselves in front of the dais.

The wagon moved into clearer view. Carlos held the reins. Beside him, swaddled in a long cloak, sat Marguerite.

Morvan couldn't believe that he was seeing this. He had been sure that she would never give up the girl—and it had been his own doing that Gurwant had even asked for her. The child's terror would follow him to the grave now.

Carlos drove the wagon right up to the dais, forcing Gurwant's men to move away, and stopped it alongside.

Morvan looked down into the wagon. Piled inside was the movable wealth of La Roche de Roald. Every item of
any value, from the silver dinner plates to the tapestries that hung in the solar, had been thrown in. Atop this mound sat an open chest full of gold and silver coins, many more coins than the estate reserve.

Carlos glanced down behind his seat in a meaningful way. Morvan let his own gaze follow. Under the tapestry, its edge barely visible beneath the clutter, lay a shield. He also saw the very tip of a sword's hilt.

Damn it, what was she up to? Twenty men guarded this dais. Even if he could get the weapon … But maybe Anna just wanted to give him the right to die fighting. It would be like her.

Gurwant walked over to the wagon and surveyed its contents. “The treasure of La Roche de Roald,” he said.

“Part of it. The rest arrives soon,” Carlos said.

“She is coming then?”

“Aye. She is coming.” His tone suggested that Carlos thought Anna had made a bad choice. Morvan agreed. His head and heart almost burst from the turmoil in them. The relief that he would see her one more time fought with fear for her.

Marguerite descended from the wagon, holding her cloak tightly around her. Gurwant looked down at her. She did not even acknowledge his presence, but kept her gaze fixed on Morvan. Gurwant touched the girl's head. Morvan's stomach turned.

“I am not yours until the exchange is made,” Marguerite said stiffly. “I will wait with my lord.” She marched over to the steps, straight-backed and proud. She bore such dignity in her manner that no one thought to stop her. She came up and stood between Morvan and Louis.

Everyone waited, milling around expectantly, the men eyeing the coins pouring out of the chest. Then the air on the plain changed and a soundless noise poured
toward them from the west. Morvan knew what was happening, and Gurwant and the other battle-experienced men recognized it as well. This was the way a field felt when the enemy charged but had not yet become visible.

But the western hills did not fill with soldiers and knights. Instead, snaking over the crest came a long line of horses tethered together, herded by six grooms.

The real treasure of La Roche de Roald. Their value would easily surpass the coin in the chest.

The front of the long file drew near, and the lead groom jumped down from his mount. The other horses were not drawn up, but kept strung out. The grooms dropped to their feet and untethered them, holding them in groups by their reins. She had sent only the stallions.

The horses in one of the distant groups moved a bit. From his raised position Morvan saw the faintest glint of steel on the groom's saddle under a leather flap. His glance quickly shot around the rest of the herd. Except for the lead man, these were not grooms at all, but five of his own knights and soldiers. They stayed out of view, blocked by the horses, slouching to look servile, but he picked out Walter and several of the other recent additions to his retinue.

“My lord, look you to my cloak,” Marguerite whispered. She lifted one edge of her cloak to reveal a dagger hung around her waist. “When she comes.”

“It is too risky for you, child.”

“When she comes, no one will be watching us.”

Perhaps she was right. Indeed, no one watched them now. Certainly not Gurwant, whose gaze examined the western horizon, searching for the woman he both hated and wanted.

Suddenly, on the most distant hill to the north, two
men appeared. One was Ascanio. They dismounted, as if to announce that they would come no farther. Their presence created a new air of anticipation. Gurwant paced forward, away from the dais to the fore of his men.

And then, out of the thinning mist that surrounded the southern hill, a white horse began to emerge. It stopped for a moment, and the early morning sun picked up the gold of long blond curls blowing in the breeze.

The white stallion walked forward into view. The woman riding it became visible. A breathless hush fell over the assembled soldiers. Morvan's own breathing almost stopped too.

She looked like a gold and white goddess riding out of the mists of time. She sat on the stallion as straight-backed, dignified, and authoritative as ever. Her strength and nobility covered her like an invisible cloak, but in truth she wore little else. A golden band encircled her head, and a thin short shift, cinched at her waist with a golden cord, clung to her breasts and rode high on her thighs. The strap of her quiver crossed over her chest, outlining her body. Her loose hair was not yet long enough to cover those breasts and arms and spreading hips. Naked thighs and legs dangled down either side of the horse.

Morvan had seen her completely unclothed many times, but even he was stunned by this confident, erotic image. This was not the same girl whom he had first kissed. This was an Anna fully aware of her desirability and willing to use its power. She frankly challenged every man to dare to want her and try for her.

As she came closer the grooms turned to face the dais so as not to look at her. The stallions at the back of the herd began showing restless agitation.

Her slow progress provided the distraction that they needed. Morvan was jolted out of his reverie by the cuts of Marguerite's blade on the ropes that bound his hands. From his right, he heard Louis mutter, “Holy Jesus.”

Morvan gestured for Marguerite to cut the other men's ropes. “I think that the men loyal to me are supposed to look away, Louis.” He reached up and slipped the noose off his neck.

“You wouldn't deny a condemned man a view of paradise, would you, my lord?” Louis asked sheepishly before he became aware of Marguerite's dagger behind him.

The agitation of the stallions grew, spreading like a ripple in a lake. The horses around the dais became affected.

Suddenly, the white stallion broke into a gallop. Anna charged at the stallions and then pivoted away, arching around to the left and heading directly at Gurwant. The stallions of La Roche de Roald followed her, and a herd of horses began stampeding toward the dais.

Walter and the others held on to their mounts and rose to their saddles. Swords appeared from under flaps, and the knights allowed their horses to follow the others. Confusion broke out as the enemy tried to retain their panicking steeds. Gurwant turned, cold eyes hard with anger, and began pushing his way to the dais. And still Anna rode toward them, a bow in her hands now.

Morvan jumped into the wagon. Gurwant ran toward him, battle-ax raised.

An arrow thudded into the ground in front of his feet. Gurwant halted and turned in fury. Anna galloped past, turning in her saddle with another arrow aimed at her adversary's head. Morvan grabbed the sword and shield and held it aloft. She nodded and urged her horse onward,
the trailing herd blocking Gurwant's movements more surely than the arrow had.

Carlos had freed the wagon's horses. “The other one is for you,” he shouted as he swung up on one.

“Get the child out,” Morvan yelled, but already Marguerite was jumping into Carlos's arms.

“Louis, take the other horse. I will be better on foot,” Morvan commanded. He stood on the wagon, protecting Louis's retreat, and his other two men jumped to the ground and ran to the field north of the melee. Anna waited there, arrow ready, to cover the group scurrying to safety.

The herd of horses caught the scent of their leader. They flowed toward him, taking some of the horses belonging to Haarold's men with them. From his perch on the wagon, Morvan could see the northern plain clearly. Anna raised her bow in salute, then turned her horse and headed toward Ascanio.

Swords began to meet each other with ferocity. Walter and the other four were seriously outnumbered, but they were playing for time rather than fighting for their lives. There was an army nearby.

Morvan knew that he should wait for it too. But Gurwant had found his horse and mounted and was coming toward him, battle-ax gripped in an outstretched arm. Jumping down from the wagon, Morvan faced the bulk of the destrier.

The ax fell with a terrific force on Morvan's upraised shield, the impact bringing him to his knees beside the horse. He rolled toward the animal's rump, away from Gurwant's next blow. While his adversary strained to turn the animal, Morvan struck at thick legs with his sword. The huge weight of the destrier sagged to the ground.

Cursing, Gurwant disentangled himself from the saddle
and rose. He faced Morvan over the length of the fallen horse.

Shouts went up and men began streaming away from the dais. Morvan did not take his eyes off Gurwant to look behind him, but he knew what he would see. The army had arrived.

Morvan stepped away from the horse, and Gurwant did likewise. They faced each other in the open space in front of the scaffold. An eerie silence fell upon the plain, and Morvan glanced to the western hills. Strung out along its crest stood Anna's army, and at one end Anna herself, her body cloaked now, beside Ascanio and the stranger.

Walter and the others circled around behind Gurwant. Morvan gestured for them to stay back.

Gurwant glanced toward Anna and grinned. “She is one hell of a woman, isn't she?”

“Aye, she is that,” Morvan said.

“Brittany will ever regret that she didn't marry me and bear my sons.”

“Brittany does not need such as you.”

Gurwant made a taunting gesture with his ax. “Will you kill
all
the men who looked at her?”

“Only the one who brought it on her.”

“Perhaps not, Englishman. Your wife is not here to save you this time.”

“Hope that I don't fail, Gurwant. If I do she will claim you for herself. Future generations will know you as the only Beaumanoir killed by a woman in battle.” He gestured for Walter. “Help him remove his armor.”

“You are not so sure of your skill then?” Gurwant taunted.

“I am sure. I just don't want to waste all morning killing you.”

A horse approached while Walter helped Gurwant remove the plate. A man Morvan had never seen stopped his horse between them.

Gurwant glanced up. “Greetings, cousin.”

The stranger looked over the small assembly, pausing a moment to take Morvan's measure. “I am Robert de Beaumanoir. This is my kinsman.”

“You brought the ransom, then. You will not leave empty-handed. He is yours, after we are done here. You can bring his body home,” Morvan said.

Robert smirked sourly. “You are fortunate, Gurwant, that Sir Morvan fights you with honor. If this man hanged you on the gallows that you prepared for him, I would be hard pressed to object.”

Gurwant shrugged. “It was a good plan. Who expected a woman and a girl to thwart it?”

“Anyone who learned, as I have, what the woman and girl held against you.” He looked down at his kinsman. “Die well, cousin.”

“I don't plan to die.”

Robert glanced at Walter and the other mounted men, and then at the waiting army. “The how and when may not yet be written, but it is safe to say that you die this day.” He stepped his horse back.

Morvan faced the western horizon, and fixed his gaze on Anna. He sent his heart and soul out to her and let himself bask in the warmth of their living bond. After a moment, she raised her arm, turned her horse, and disappeared down the back of the hill.

He turned around and faced Gurwant.

A
NNA SAT AT A TABLE
in the hall watching the closed solar door. By the time she arrived in the castle, Morvan and the vassals had already sequestered themselves inside that chamber with Haarold and Paul. She knew what was happening, just as she knew how it would end.

She glanced down at her blue gown. Underneath she still wore the scandalous costume that had been part of her plan. She wondered what Morvan would say to her about that particular detail of his rescue. Actually, she wondered what he would say about all of it.

He was alive and Gurwant was dead and nothing else should really matter, she told herself. Eventually, however, he would begin assessing the risks and realize that she had taken tremendous chances. After the initial exhilaration of not dying wore off, how would he react?

She was not surprised that he had not come for her immediately after dealing with Gurwant. She knew that his mind had been filled with what was occurring in the solar right now. An unpleasant judgment awaited him there, and she couldn't blame him for wanting to be done with it before any celebration or reunion took place.