A Lily on the Heath (Medieval Herb Garden #4)

A Lily on the Heath (Medieval Herb Garden #4) Page 12

“How did they mean to travel?” he demanded. “Do you know? By road?”

Thankfully, Tessing once again spoke up. “They would follow the road as far as they could. And then when the forest at the foot of the hills was near, they would head toward the tallest trees wherein one might see the nest of a raptor. If not there, then they would go toward the highest of the hills, where a nest might also be among the rocky peak.”

“We ride. Nevril, Gambert, now,” said the lord just as three of the grooms brought his fierce, dancing warhorse from the stable. Tabby shied away from the dark brown beast, whose hooves were the size of dinner plates and whose strength required the three men to keep him under control—and even then ’twas no easy task. “There’s no time to be lost.”

“We’re with you, Warwick,” said Sir Holbert, then turned to holler for the other men-at-arms from Lilyfare.

“As am I,” announced Lord Hugh. Standing with him was Lord Richard of Castendown. “If we ride fast we’ll be to the hills well before dusk.” He took the reins of his own massive horse.

“We’ll ride fast,” Lord Warwick told him as he vaulted onto the back of his mount. The prancing, whuffling horse settled as soon as he felt his master’s weight. “Do your best to keep pace. Hyah!”

The horse leapt forward and everyone scattered as the stallion and Lord Warwick flew across the bailey yard, clattering beneath the raised portcullis and out over the drawbridge.

Malcolm wasn’t entirely certain why he felt such a numbing yet blazing fear as he bent over Alpha’s neck, the warhorse’s muscles bunching and stretching with each movement. His chest was banded tight and his mind blank but for the focus of: ride, ride, ride!

Of course he always feared for any woman or child—or even a man, even his deadliest of enemies—who would be mauled or so terribly injured, as was clearly what happened to Judith’s mare. And quite possibly to her as well.

And that was where the blinding terror came in. Nay. Not to Judith. Not to exuberant, imperious, confounding Judith.

But it was precisely that unexpected, white-hot fear which drove him now—the fear of what they would find. The images of her, pale and bloody, ripped and slashed…dead. Her life seeping into the grass even as her glorious hair spread around her cold body like fire.

It was only once Clarendon was far in the distance that Mal realized he couldn’t force Alpha to keep such a breakneck pace all the way to…wherever they were going. With regret, he slowed the trusty destrier to a brisk canter and, breathing heavily from the effort of the mad ride and his anxiety, took the opportunity to marshal his thoughts.

On the road coming up behind him—from much too far back—galloped Nevril and Gambert, along with Holbert, whom he’d gleaned was Judith’s master-at-arms, and several more of her men. There was also de Rigonier, Castendown, Ludingdon, and Fleurwelling, and their squires. Mal could have felt a little foolish at his mad dash, blasting out of Clarendon as he’d done, but it wasn’t in his nature to worry on others’ opinions of him.

Nevertheless, when Dirick of Ludingdon and the others caught up with him at last, his friend looked curiously at Mal. “Kind of you to wait for us,” he commented in that understated way of his.

“Alpha needed to run,” Mal replied with a shrug. “Else he’d be champing and stomping all the day. Asides, the longer the delay, the more likely we are to find what we do not wish. I meant to waste no time. If either lay injured or near death, the sooner we find them….”

“Aye,” Dirick replied, but in his sober expression there lurked a hint of levity. “Let us pray we do not find the worst.”

“My lord,” said Nevril, riding up alongside them. He was panting from the exertion of the mad ride as well. “The lady’s maid was beside herself. On the orders of Lady Judith, she sent word to the queen her lady was indisposed today and could not attend her. She is terrified Queen Eleanor will learn of the lie and fears both she and Lady Judith will feel the queen’s wrath if the truth comes out.”

Mal shook his head grimly. “Let us hope that is the least of her worries, Nevril.” He looked ahead and saw, perhaps a half hour in the distance, the tall trees brushing the sky just at the foot of rough hills. “They were searching for raptors. How will we ever find them?”

“We’ll split up,” de Rigonier said, drawing even with Mal and Dirick as Nevril fell back. “Lady Judith prefers to capture her birds by climbing rather than trapping. If we sight nests, we can have a good sense of whither she and Piall have gone. And then we must follow their trail.”

Mal nodded in agreement and they rode along in near silence for a time. For once he almost wished for conversation—that aught might take his mind from the worry churning within. But in the stead of gnawing on what he might find—for he would learn soon enough if his fears would come to pass—Mal distracted himself by wondering on the relationship between Judith and Hugh de Rigonier.

He’d witnessed them laughing, jesting, and conversing together. Their informality and ease with the other would be enviable if Mal cared about such things. But for him, a woman—a wife—meant someone to warm his bed, provide an heir, and keep his household running smoothly. Nor would he refuse a fat dowry chest or some other valuable bride’s price if she brought it. Whether they amused each other or even cared for each other beyond a basic affection was of little interest to him. He was a practical man.

Yet since he was a man, and a practical one, he couldn’t help but wonder if Judith and de Rigonier were lovers. It wouldn’t surprise Mal, for it was well-known that Eleanor’s and Henry’s court wasn’t the strictly moral one the queen had left behind when she divorced the pious Louis of France. The priests and bishops—even the flamboyant Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas à Becket—decried the current mode of dress in which women wore tightly-laced gowns to show off their curves. The holy men claimed it was salacious and immodest and contributed to the growing immorality of the court.

That was yet another reason Mal preferred the quiet privacy of his beloved Warwick. The sooner I can return, the happier I shall be. He’d hoped to have his audience with the king on this day, for he needed permission to find a bride and marry as he wished.

But this journey to find Judith was much more important than obtaining permission to wed someone like Lady Beatrice of Delbring.

“There,” he cried, pointing to a clump high in a pine tree, just a half-league north of where they road. “A raptor nest. Where there is one, mayhap shall be Lady Judith.”

“And there is another,” said de Rigonier. “And another. We must divide ourselves.”

This was quickly accomplished, with Mal, Nevril and Gambert heading north on their own. His heart thudding with purpose, Mal kicked Alpha into a full gallop and once again left the others in his dust. As they headed toward the forest of tall, scraggly trees, he felt a moment of bliss at the glorious speed and grace from his warhorse. Oft the destriers were so large and muscular they didn’t have the speed and elegance one needed for such a task, but Alpha was one of a few that had all the skills a battle-bound lord would need.

As they galloped among the tall trees and thickening brush, Mal kept his eyes trained on the nest he spied. It was the first he’d seen from the road, and his senses tingled. Mayhap Judith had seen it too. As they drew closer, he saw something else that made his insides seize up: birds. Circling. Diving down among the treetops then reappearing.

God, nay. Something inside him tripped and he urged Alpha faster, all the while praying also for sure-footedness. They leapt smoothly over a large tree trunk and easily skirted bushes and trees, clumps of dirt flying up from the destrier’s hooves behind them. He bent low over the stallion’s neck to keep from being swept off by a low branch.

Over the pounding of Alpha’s massive hooves, Mal heard frenzied barking and snarling in the distance. The snarling grew closer and louder, and Mal and Alpha smelled it at the same time: blood. In the air. Thick and heavy. Nay. He kept his mind blank as his horse reacted to the smell of blood—the smell of war. What he’d been trained for. Alpha slowed and snorted, then roared on faster.

Suddenly, they burst into a clearing near the tree he sought, and Mal saw the bloodied corpse of a horse. But they blazed past it, scaring away the hawks picking at the carrion, and headed for the feral pack of dogs crowding around a tree. The wolf-like beasts snarled and clawed as if trying to launch themselves up the rough bark. Nearby on the ground was a human corpse—that of a man, praise God—but it was unattended and the wild canines seemed more interested in what was in the tree.

Mal had his sword in hand by then and was ready when the first of the wild, rabid creatures noticed him and launched in his direction. Alpha screamed and reared up on his two back legs, then crashed down, crushing the dog that had come too close. Mal, who easily kept his seat, cried out as he slashed with his broadsword, neatly cleaving the head from the next dog.

At the same time, he heard a voice…from above. A female voice. “I am here! Up here!”

He glanced into the branches, his heart leaping with hope—for it sounded like Judith—but he couldn’t take his eyes from the snarling canines for long enough to see if his prayers had been answered. The rabid creatures terrified him for another reason: should one of them bite Alpha, the destrier would surely become rabid himself. Then Mal would lose one of his most valuable possessions. He wheeled his mount around and galloped back out of the clearing before the worst happened.

Two of the mayhap dozen dogs followed on his tail, leaping and snarling at Alpha’s heels. Yet in the end, the horse was much too fast for them and the gap between them widened. But Mal had to get his mount to safety while going back to rescue whoever was in the tree. He wheeled his horse around sharply, feeling the shudder as Alpha stumbled and nearly fell. Heart in his throat, Mal sent up a prayer of gratitude and patted his horse on the neck, murmuring a thanks to the beast as well.