Siege Of the Heart (36 page)

Awareness slowly trickled through her as she assessed the team of Alric’s men, who had dragged her from her hiding place, which was now visible in the dawn’s early rays. She still smarted from her impact with the ground. Blinking back her disorientation, she moved into a crouch. The amusement on the men’s faces told her they thought her a fool for even attempting to escape, but she had to try. She would accept no less.

She waited, willing one of the men to make their move. The man closest to her reached out, and she lunged away. Before she could catch her breath, Alric was suddenly there, grabbing her by the shoulders, destroying any resistance she was capable of.

He slammed her against the nearest tree—her tree, the tree that had kept her safe in the night—crushing her chest into the rough bark. Hard body pressed into hers, he kept her in place while two of his men took position on either side and held down her arms, preventing her from moving.

Alric removed himself with a growl. “There is no way to escape this time, Isabel.” He ran a hand through her hair before suddenly pulling it taut and forcing her to look at him. “There is no one here to stop me from teaching you a lesson.”

She heard him pacing behind her. What was he doing?
 

“You’ve been allowed to run wild for too long. It’s time you learned your place.” A sharp crack punctuated each word. A whip? A branch? She twisted around and saw the supple stick in his hands.

Directly behind her now, Alric traced the stick over her body and down her back. She knew what kind of man he was. All this was to see how far he could bend her before she would snap like a sapling in its first summer storm. He chuckled at her involuntary shudders. “You are not worthy of your English blood,” he decreed.

Even though she had expected it, the first lash surprised her. She struggled to breathe through the biting pain unfettered by the clothes separating the stick from skin. He struck again. The pain sharpened, deepening the inroads of the first strike. Her neck arched back involuntarily with the third switch, her teeth clenched to resist the burn. The men struggled to keep her still as the fourth came down.

It went on, and she could hold back her screams no longer.

23

With the additional men, Captain Radolf’s forces were able to cover twice as much ground as they attempted to ferret out the rebels.

As they traveled, it became increasingly clear just how much the English despaired of the Norman’s presence. Despite the trouble in Ashdown, at least Alex had not felt the blind hatred aimed at them now. Thanks to the Dumonts’ mixed heritage and household, he had been largely protected from the anger and turmoil many still felt. In London, the Norman presence overwhelmed the English townsfolk, making it easier to ignore their resentment. The countryside was different. He was painfully aware there were fewer of his countrymen to help him face down the palpable hostility he encountered in each village. Even Captain Thomas was shunned when attempting to facilitate their efforts by serving as translator.

Shouts pulled Alex out of his thoughts. Hugh and another Norman galloped into camp, his shield bearer barely checking his animal before he dismounted and ran over to Alex.

“We’ve found something.”

Captain Radolf stepped forward. “The rebels?”

Riveted on Alex, Hugh barely spared Radolf a glance.

An inkling of hope spread through him. “Isabel?”

“We don’t know. One of the merchants in Cricklade said a tenant farmer come into town to trade complained of a woman’s screams near dawn but a day ago. The villagers were alarmed and made sure all the womenfolk were accounted for. None were missing. I got directions to the farmer’s to see if there’s more to his story. We haven’t gone yet as I thought you’d want to join us.”

“Indeed. Good work, both of you.” Alex turned to the Norman captain. “With your approval, we would like to investigate this further.”

Radolf laughed. “By all means. I would be a fool to stop you.”

“Thank you. Hugh, fetch Captain Thomas. No doubt he will want to be there as well.”

Hugh nodded.

Alex went through the motions of saddling his steed. Anticipation rushed through him, despite his doubts. It might be any woman, but, that no one was missing from the village kindled his optimism. This report, however unlikely, was their only clue in locating Isabel, and, given the rumored patterns of the rebels, they would have passed through here around the time the English farmer heard screams. If it were Isabel, what did the screams portend? Alex tried to keep from tormenting himself with images of Isabel being tortured or raped, as they were the only scenarios in which he could see his wife crying out in fear or pain. He prayed to God he was wrong.

“Alex, we’re all ready,” Hugh called out. The men waited on their horses.

He nodded in acknowledgment, mounted swiftly and followed Hugh and the others. The ride to the tenant farm was shorter than expected. The farmer waited for them as they rounded the turn in the road, taking a defensive stance in front of his home. The approaching hoof beats must have alarmed the old man.

Alex bid the men rein their horses to a walk and signaled for Captain Thomas to greet the man in English.

He did not attempt to understand their conversation. He had been in England long enough to pick up a few words here and there, but they spoke so rapidly he was not able to discern any of the terms. The Englishman relaxed as Captain Thomas conversed with him, occasionally pointing toward the woods closest to the hut.

“He said it rained two nights ago, and toward dawn, he heard the screams coming from the woods. They only lasted a few moments before it grew quiet again,” Captain Thomas reported.

“How does he know they were a woman’s screams and not a man’s? If the storm was particularly fierce, perhaps it was only thunder that woke him.”

Alex waited as Captain Thomas relayed the questions to the farmer.

“He says both he and his wife were woken up by the noise, but it was not repeated, and they had no way to learn the truth. However, they both agreed it was a woman’s cries.”

Alex took a better look at the territory, surveying the forest just beyond the farmer’s fields.

“Thank him for his time,” Alex said, tossing Captain Thomas a small pouch to give to the man. At his signal, the rest of the men directed their mounts to the woods.

“Look for anything out of the ordinary. Torn clothing, footprints, broken plants. The screams would not have carried far, so keep close to the outer perimeter of the forest,” Alex said as he maneuvered his horse between the trees.

Even if they did come across something, there was no way to know if Isabel or the English rebels were involved. Too much time had passed.

After searching the eastern edge of the forest, Alex heard eager shouts. He followed the cries westward and met up with Hugh and another of his men, who clutched something in his hands.

“Well, what is it?”

Hugh nudged the young soldier. “Show him.”

“Here, sir.” The man-at-arms placed the object in Alex’s hand.

He looked down. A scrap of fabric reminding him of the color and texture of Isabel’s cloak cushioned his mother’s pendant necklace. He clenched his fist over the items and slowly raised his head to meet their waiting faces.

“Where did you find this?”

* * * *

Isabel woke with a start—her body had cried out in warning—only to be hampered by the secure leather thongs around her wrists and ankles and the rope tying them together. She gagged at the ill-tasting piece of fabric tightly secured around her head. She adjusted to the bonds, slow to recognize the pain everywhere at once. Her right eye was nearly swollen shut, and her back and sides ached where she had been hit.

Twisting her head around, she winced as the rebel camp greeted her eyes. Osbert, unconscious with a large contusion along his temple, was trussed up beside her. Isabel felt a pang of guilt he had been caught, but the thought left her when Alric suddenly thrust his face into hers, a savage grin stretching across his face.

“Well, well, my lady. I am so glad you’ve woken.”

Isabel tried to turn away but he clamped down on her shoulders and forced her to look at him. His breath licked her cheeks. She winced as the ground dug into her bruised back and pain flared through her once more.

“I hope I need not remind you how I punish those who disobey me.”

She narrowed her eyes, and Alric’s smile widened.

“You should have let me sample you.” He traced his hand over her curves then rested it on her breast, despite her struggles to avoid him. He smirked. “But you have given me something better with your little stunt, and you have my thanks.”

Isabel grunted as he finally removed his touch and stepped away from her. She did her best to still her rampant heartbeat and struggled to bring more air in through her nose. Alric had not gone far enough away for her liking. She still felt his eyes on her as he conversed with one of his men nearby.

Another soldier-at-arms rushed past her and kicked up dirt into her face as he headed toward Alric. “Sir, Dumont and his men will be here any moment.”

“Excellent. Bring them to me at once.”

Isabel swore to herself. She would be used by Alric as leverage against her brother.

Julien could not argue for her release. Not when Alric and the rest of the men would find him unfit to lead if they thought him sympathetic to her, especially since she had tried to escape and injured some of the men in the process. Her unease deepened as booted feet tramped closer. Isabel wanted to see how Julien had managed on the excursion despite his injury. Her brother and Kendrick stood before the rebel leader, dusty and tired. Neither man looked her way. Julien was pale and sweating despite the chill in the air but held himself proudly. What did it cost him to meet Alric’s gaze head on as if nothing was wrong?

“We brought the supplies you requested,” he reported.

“How many bows?” Alric asked.

“A dozen, plus the two bushels of oats and four sacks of flour.”

“Good. What tidings do you bring?”

Julien shared a glance with Kendrick then said, “Only more rumors of a group of Normans searching for rebels.”

“They were last seen in Bampton,” Kendrick added.

Alric shrugged. “No matter. They have proven to be poor hunters.”

“Their numbers have grown,” Julien said. “I think it would be wise if we break camp and—”

“No. These curs are no match for us. We will stay here until the weather improves. At least another week.”

Kendrick spat on the ground but said no more.

“Where is my sister?” Julien asked.

Alric’s eyes sparkled in the waning afternoon light. “Did you not see her? She is over there with the other prisoner.” Alric pointed toward her, smirking.

“Prisoner?” asked Kendrick as he finally faced her.
 

“Sadly, yes. She tried to escape—”

“What have you done to her?” Julien demanded, raking her with his gaze. Isabel felt helpless as he stared, knowing the impossible position he was in. He turned and faced Alric. “I care not if she tried to escape. You had no right to injure her like this!”

“No right? Even if she wasn’t a Norman whore, she deserves every hurt I gave her for attacking me—her and that bondsman of yours.”

“Osbert would have no reason to attack you…” Kendrick looked at Julien and searched his expression. “Unless...”

Red mottled Julien’s face. He took a step toward Alric. “You bastard. How dare you touch her!”

Kendrick grabbed his arm and held him in place. “Julien, don’t,” he said as the older man struggled with his temper.

Alric smiled. “I’ll touch the wench any way I please, Dumont. Although she’s looking poorly right now.”

Isabel’s brother pulled away from Kendrick and stalked closer to Alric. “It’s finished. I’m taking Isabel and my men away from here. You and yours can go your own way.”

“It’s too late for that now. We need to be united against the enemy. I can’t have you and your men breaking ranks over some woman,” Alric stated, coolly appraising Julien’s reaction.

“You do not deserve our loyalty,” her brother bit out.