The Redeeming (13 page)

“G
aenor is gone.”

The anguish in his mother’s voice striking Garr ahead of her words, he looked up from the journal he had been poring over while awaiting Baron Lavonne’s arrival, tidings of which had been delivered a quarter hour past. “What do you mean, Mother?”

Lady Isobel, accompanied by his wife, crossed the hall and ascended the dais. “When I went to her chamber to make her ready as you asked, I found it empty.”

“You have looked in the garden?”

“Aye. I even sent out servants to search the inner and outer baileys to see if she had taken herself to the falconry or stables, but she is not to be found. She is gone—has once more fled the marriage you press upon her.”

How long gone? When Gaenor had not come belowstairs for the breaking of fast two hours past, he had thought little of it, for there had been many faces absent following the wedding feast that had lasted past the middling of night. At least two hours gone, then, likely more.

Gathering a deep breath to calm his fear for his sister, Garr pushed back his chair and stood. “Where might she have gone?”

His mother shook her head. “I do not know.”

“Summon Sir Durand,” Annyn said. “Methinks he may know something of her disappearance.”

“Why Durand?”

“On the night past, I witnessed an exchange between him and your sister. Though I was too distant to hear what was said, both appeared disturbed by the encounter.”

Annyn was too wise for Garr to not find merit in her observation. He motioned a man-at-arms forward who shortly hastened from the hall to search out Sir Durand, as well as Everard.

Garr was not surprised when only his brother appeared amid preparations to arrest Gaenor’s flight. Though the blind might not know of Sir Durand’s feelings for Beatrix or his anguish over her marriage to Michael, all others knew. Only a few, however, were aware of Gaenor’s feelings for the knight who had delivered her safe to Wulfen Castle the first time she had fled Christian Lavonne.

Months past, when Garr had arrived at Wulfen and found Sir Durand had been given charge of her, he had noted the way Gaenor looked at him and how her face flushed when the knight was near. He had not thought much on it, knowing Sir Durand could not return her feelings with his heart bound elsewhere, but now…

What else was there to conclude but that Sir Durand, aware of Gaenor’s feelings and openly disaffected as he was with the Wulfriths’ decision to allow the marriage between her and Christian Lavonne, had forsaken his fealty and offered to aid in her escape?

“What goes?” Everard asked as he strode across the hall. “Why is your man searching out Sir Durand?”

“To confirm ‘twas he who took Gaenor from Stern.” Garr met his gaze over the bent head of his squire who adjusted his chain mail tunic.

Everard’s stride faltered. “What?”

“Leave us,” Garr ordered his squire. When the young man departed, Garr stepped before his brother. “It would appear Sir Durand has taken Gaenor.”

“Abducted her?”

“Methinks she went willingly, that she accepted his aid to once more flee Lavonne.”

Everard grunted and thrust a hand over his shaved pate. “What hope can Durand have of secreting our sister when the king will soon enough set men after him and all of England will know what he has done?”

“No hope, which is why he will take her to France where he has family.”

Everard was silent for some moments, then said, “Mayhap we ought to let her go, Garr. She does not wish to wed Lavonne—”

“And neither does Durand wish to wed her,” Garr spoke more harshly than intended. “We must bring her back, not only for
her
well-being, but our family’s. Too often I have pushed the king too far, and Henry will surely see this as yet another act of defiance. He will tolerate no more, Everard. You know it to be so.”

Grudgingly, Everard nodded.

“So we ride and bring her back ere more damage is done,” Garr continued, “ere Baron Lavonne—”

“He has come, Garr. Even as I was summoned from the outer bailey, the baron rode upon Stern. Likely, he and Abel are now within the walls.”

Though Garr allowed no words to pass his lips that would be displeasing to God, his tongue was tempted as it had not been in a long time. The plan to set after Gaenor and Sir Durand before the baron’s arrival shattered, he said, “Then it seems they will be joining our search.”

Everard caught his arm. “’Tis possible that when Lavonne learns what has passed,” he said slowly with the turning of his thoughts, “he will defy the king’s decree and forsake a union with our family. After all, twice now our sister has run from him, and this time with a man who was not given charge over her by our family.”

Aye, though Sir Durand had been her escort all those months past, it was Lady Isobel who had set him the task of seeing her daughter safe to Wulfen Castle. This was different. The knight had defiantly spirited her away. Thus, what else was there for Christian Lavonne to conclude than that Sir Durand and Gaenor were lovers?

Garr ground his teeth. “The baron can certainly make a case for rejecting her. And ‘tis possible King Henry will concede, as a man can only be expected to tolerate such behavior so many times before being released from his obligation. Unfortunately, if he refuses Gaenor, the king will extract some price for finding himself once more thwarted. It would not surprise me if he punishes our sister by wedding her to some wretched old man who will make misery of her days.”

Frustration flickered in Everard’s eyes. “Then mayhap we should allow her to escape to France.”

Garr stared at his stalwart brother who others mistook to be lacking in feelings. However, behind his composed face were emotions that writhed with concern for their sister.

“Do you think better on it, Everard, you will realize this is the only course for the Wulfriths, for all will go worse for Gaenor if the king captures her. Even if she makes it to France, Henry has allies there who will do his bidding.”

Everard sighed. “Then we must bring her back.”

“And pray the baron will yet wed her.” Garr settled his shoulders beneath the mail. “Let us go meet Lavonne.”

“Garr? Everard?” their mother called from the lowermost stair. Guessing she had heard their conversation, Garr said, “Do not fear, Mother, we will find her.”

“I know.” She stepped down into the hall. “I just pray you will not be too angry with her. She—”

“I shall endeavor to be fair,” Garr said. Then, remembering Beatrix and her new husband were yet abed, he added, “I would not have this unfortunate event mar Beatrix and Michael’s first day of marriage. Speak naught of it and, if they ask, tell that Everard and I have been called to Wulfen.”

She inclined her head. “Godspeed, my sons.”

O
nly himself to blame.

Still, Christian fomented over the tidings received upon reaching Stern Castle six hours past. Though occupied this past sennight with the havoc wreaked by his brother who yet evaded capture, he had been set for his private audience with Gaenor. Now, it seemed it would be public—providing they overtook her and Sir Durand. Durand who was surely the one to whom Gaenor had entrusted her heart, with whom she had spent the night past, and who might have stolen the gift of her virtue that was to have been Christian’s.

Alternately gripped with jealousy, anger, and a sense of betrayal for what they had shared at the stream, he perspired deep into the tunic beneath his chain mail as the declining sun blistered the sky. It would be dark before long, but even if the Wulfriths paused for the night, he would press on.

He gripped the reins tighter and squeezed his eyes closed.
Lord, let her not have so easily gone into the arms of another. Let the feelings between us sustain her though she surely thought never to see me again.

He opened his eyes. Was he asking too much? Especially considering her feelings for Sir Durand?

“I hope ‘tis for my sister you pray,” Sir Abel raised his voice above the pounding of hooves, “and your forbearance.”

Christian looked at the knight where he had drawn alongside. He resented the interruption, but it did not anger him as it might have done a sennight past. Despite the strain that was yet between him and Abel, during their pursuit of Robert and his brigands they had come to a kind of understanding and grudging respect for the other’s abilities. They tolerated one another well—when they pursued a common enemy. Now they pursued Abel’s sister whose flight from Stern Castle portended ill for her family.

Though Baron Wulfrith and his brothers had not appealed to Christian to wed their sister regardless of her having once more fled, Christian knew that if he petitioned the king, Henry would likely release him from the decree. But he would make no such petition, for he was determined to wed Gaenor. Of course, if she had given herself to—

“Well?” Sir Abel pressed.

Christian narrowed his gaze on the knight. “I do pray for your sister and my forbearance. You should as well.”

“I shall consider it.”

As obstinate as ever…

Christian urged his mount ahead.

S
he had made a mistake. She had known it the moment she stepped through the sally port and found Sir Durand waiting for her…when they crept to the wood…when they mounted the horse there…when she put her arms around him to hold tight and felt him stiffen. But still she had gone, and with each league she had grown heavier with regret. Once could be forgiven, but to twice flee marriage was beyond dishonorable to the Wulfrith name. Could she do it again, she would do it different, but it was too late. By now, Baron Lavonne had arrived and found his bride gone. Soon, the king would set men after her and Durand. What else was there but to press on?

Weary from hours of clinging to Sir Durand, with only two brief stops to allow them and their mount to eat and drink, she sank deeper against the knight’s back and blinked at the landscape that sped past now that they had left the shelter of the wood.

Were they yet upon the barony of Abingdale? Though Sir Durand had told her it was fastest to pass through the southernmost corner, the thought of entering Baron Lavonne’s lands, even for a short time, caused chill bumps to rise across her limbs. Or was the waning day responsible?

She lifted her head from the knight’s back and glanced at the sky. It was streaked with oranges, reds, and purples, the rays of the setting sun all that remained of daylight.

They would ride through the night, a difficult undertaking but necessary to outdistance their pursuers. Unfortunately, their flight had not gone unobserved, for once they had met with a group of villagers and twice they had spotted riders in the distance. If it was told that a single horse bearing a knight and lady had passed near, their course would be known.

Wishing it was not too slow and dangerous to often make use of the cover of the wood, Gaenor pressed her face to Sir Durand’s back again and once more felt him stiffen. How it hurt, this regret of his that she was not Beatrix!

Hours later, mantle drawn tight about her, eyes closed against the night sky, mind meandering between dream and reality, she was shaken awake when the horse lurched.

Gripping Sir Durand tighter, she jerked her head up as the man before her spat one oath after another and dragged on the reins. Without any pretense of gentleness, he unclasped Gaenor’s hands from about his waist and jumped to the ground.

“Let us pray he has but taken a stone.” He bent to inspect the horse’s hooves.

As he did not offer to assist her down, Gaenor slid from the animal’s back. In silence, she watched as Sir Durand lifted the left hoof. Since the quarter moon provided only bare light, he ran his hand over it before moving to the right hoof.

A moment later, a foul curse flew from his mouth, at the end of which he growled, “He is lamed!”

Then no longer of use to them. If not for their flight, it was possible the horse could be healed of its affliction, but now it would have to be put it down. As much pained by the animal’s sacrifice as the fear stealing upon her, Gaenor turned away in anticipation of the dagger Sir Durand would draw.

“We will send him opposite,” he said.

She looked around and saw him remove the packs from behind the saddle. “Opposite?”

“If I put him down now and he is found, it will be known we have entered the wood here.”

“You could put him down in the wood.” Gaenor winced at the tremble in her voice.

“Better we send him opposite. Without the burden of carrying us, he will be able to distance himself and perhaps lead our pursuers astray.”

Their pursuers who were surely drawing near and would not pause for the night. How near were they? And without the speed of a horse, was it possible that she and Sir Durand might yet escape? Not likely.

Sir Durand slapped the animal’s hindquarter. With a whinny, the destrier trotted off, the severity of its laming less obvious now that it was unburdened.

“Come.” Sir Durand pivoted.

She followed him to the bordering wood, stumbling often as the uneven ground that had proved the destrier’s undoing attempted to undo her. Momentarily entertaining the possibility that Sir Durand might also send her opposite if she was lamed, she trailed him among the darkly-shadowed trees.