A Lily on the Heath 4 (10 page)

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.

“Off with you,” he said as they headed at a breakneck speed toward a low, thick tree branch directly in front of them. “
Go
, Alpha.”

Sword in hand, the dogs barking madly in their wake, Mal half-crouched, rising, in his stirrups, his weight on the balls of his feet. As they barreled toward the branch, he braced himself.

The bark was rough and hard, and he slammed into it hard enough that half his breath was knocked out, but he caught it as planned, curving his arm around it. Alpha streaked on past and as soon as the horse was out from beneath Mal, he dropped to the ground.
 

Just in time to face the raving beasts.
 

FIVE

Judith gripped the tree trunk
tightly as a horseman blasted into the clearing below. Relief swept through her, followed by admiration when she watched the mail-clad knight remain in his saddle even as his massive warhorse snorted, rearing violently in the midst of the feral dogs. She heard the sickening thud as one of its hooves crushed a canine to the ground.

From her perch high up in the branches, Judith could see little detail other than the blur of blue and gray from the knight’s shield, the sleek, dark coat of his horse, and a flash of steel as he swung his broadsword to behead one of the mad dogs. The sounds were horrible: squealing, thudding, snarling.

Then just as quickly as he’d come, her presumed savior and his mount bolted out of the clearing. Two of Judith’s four-legged captors followed, barking and streaking behind, but the others remained. Their frenzied snarls, red eyes, and foaming mouths didn’t seem to have lessened in the hours they’d had her trapped. Every time the pack began to quiet or edge away, something would happen to start them up again, and thus she’d been stranded.

Judith hadn’t been on the ground for nearly four hours, and she was tired, hungry, and frustrated. And frightened. If she hadn’t had the rope to tie herself to the trunk, surely she would have tumbled down by now. But now that help had arrived—or so she thought—Judith had a sudden burst of strength.

Shortly after the warrior on the horse galloped away, she heard a sharp whistle in the distance, followed by the bellow of a horn echoing among the trees. Moments later, a man ran into the clearing brandishing his sword. At first, Judith wasn’t certain whether it was the same man who’d been on the horse. She climbed down to the lower branches, watching in hope, fear and amazement as he drew the dogs’ attention to him with a ferocious war cry.

Between shield and sword, he fought off two of the dogs before the others
 
were able to twist their writhing bodies away from the tree and bound over to him. But then they all seemed to swarm toward her rescuer at once, and Judith’s heart was in her throat as five canines leapt toward him. He was much more vulnerable on foot, and from above she watched tensely. He spun and slashed, blocking snarling fangs and maniac claws neatly with his shield, then slicing and slashing with his weapon. The dogs cried and squealed, thumping to the ground or staggering away, howling in pain.

The sound of more horses thudding through the forest caught Judith’s attention, and she climbed up two more branches in order to see. A group of men-at-arms streaked toward them, bounding through the woods.
 

More help. Aye, Judith was saved.

A loud, victorious cry from below drew her attention back to the man as he stabbed the last dog, heaving the beast away from the end of his sword.

“Judith!” he bellowed up into the tree, his face tilted toward her for the first time.

Her heart leapt.
Malcolm?
Nay, impossible. But she was already clambering down as quickly as she could on stiff legs and arms, her heart light and relieved.

“Judith, are you there?” he shouted again as the other horses arrived in the clearing. It
was
Malcolm!

“Aye! ’Tis me!” she called as her foot slipped and she skimmed wildly down the trunk. Judith gasped in pain as the rough bark scraped down her arms and a cheek, but she caught herself before tumbling all the way to the ground. That would have been most mortifying.

By the time she recovered and stepped onto the lowest branch, however, he was waiting there. She didn’t even have the chance to ease herself off the branch before Malcolm snatched her down.

Judith staggered a bit as he placed her quickly and unceremoniously on her feet, but before he could speak, she launched herself back into his arms. “Thank you, Mal,” she cried, throwing her arms up around his broad shoulders. “Oh, I do not know how you—all of you,” she added, looking beyond his mail-covered arm at the others in the clearing, “came to be here, but thank you! ’Tis a miracle you found me!”
 

Mal, who seemed to have naught to say, set her back from him almost as quickly as she’d gotten there, but Judith cared not. Now that she was on the ground, she had other things on her mind. After all, she’d been up a tree for four hours. “I must needs have some privacy,” she said, gesturing to the woods.

But though she started off quickly, Judith halted at Piall’s body. One of the younger men—Mal’s squire, she thought—had already begun to cover it, but that did little good to hide the horrible sight. Her stomach lurched and she pressed a hand against her mouth, sickened by the carnage as well as the knowledge he was gone. “Oh, Piall,” she managed to say, closing her eyes tightly. Her breath hitched and her insides churned. ’Twas a terrible, needless loss.

“There’s no need for you to look at him, my lady,” someone said kindly. A large hand brushed her shoulder and gently directed her toward the forest. She glanced up at Lord Dirick, whose handsome face was serious and sympathetic. “See to your needs, and we will attend to your man.”

The reality of the situation settling heavy on her, Judith walked into the woods on unsteady feet and did what she needed to do. She cried a bit, too, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. Piall had given his life for her—because of her whim to go hunting, and because he was insistent on being her protector. The guilt weighed heavily on her, and Judith stayed in the woods mayhap longer than she needed to. When she returned to the clearing, she caught Mal’s eye; he’d been watching for her. He stood to the side, tying up the reins of a massive warhorse to a sturdy tree. She nodded at him, allowing her grief to show, then turned to find that the carnage from the slain dogs was being attended to.

“They must be burned,” Mal told her as he came over. She felt his attention settle on her scraped cheek, but he said naught about it. “For if another animal eats the tainted meat, the madness will spread.” As if to emphasize his words, the horses standing to the side of the clearing stomped and snorted, their eyes a little wild at the scent of tainted blood.

“Aye,” Judith said, then turned to eye the tree once more. She considered for a moment, then drew in a breath and exhaled. Her decision was made. Piall’s death would not be completely in vain.

“What are you doing, my lady?” Mal demanded when he saw her approach the tall pine.
 
He’d been helping to dig a burial hole with the point of his long, triangular shield and now he stood upright.

Despite the pain in her arms from the slide down the trunk, Judith knew she must climb up again. “Holbert, if you please?” she ordered.
 

Her man knew what she wished, and the next thing she knew, Judith was back in the lower branch of the tree. Her metal-tipped boots worked just as well as they had before, and though she’d been up and down the span of branches many times since arriving here, Judith climbed once more. This time, though, her muscles protested and trembled with effort. But she was stubborn. This journey would yield some good, she hoped.

A short time later, once more at the nest which held the two eyases—now no longer as hungry, due to her sharing the bit of dried meat with them—she carefully scooped them out. Their mouths opened wide and silent, they froze in obvious terror as she bundled them into the soft linen cloth from her pouch. “Poor things,” she murmured, taking care not to injure the delicate wings. ’Twas a risk to take them from the nest so small, but if she left them there, they would surely die.

Then, just as carefully—and with no little bit of pain—she made her way back down to the ground.
 

“Judith!” a voice exclaimed as her feet touched the blood-soaked grass.

She turned to see Hugh de Rigonier, along with Fleuwelling and Castendown and a contingent of other men now gathered in the clearing. Mayhap the horn she’d heard earlier had been a signal to them.
 

Still carefully holding the bundle of baby raptors, she greeted Hugh as he maneuvered over, still mounted on his horse. His arms strained to keep the massive beast under control, and she was forced to step back from the dancing hooves.

“You are safe,” he said, looking down at her. “Praise be.”
 

“All in thanks to Warwick,” she told him. “But Piall is dead.”

“I am aggrieved to hear that.” Hugh tightened the reins in his hand and leaned down toward her. “But you are unhurt?”

“’Tis time to ride,” Malcolm announced. “If we mean to return to Clarendon before ’tis full dark. Nevril, you and Barth stay with Castendown and Fleuwelling and see that all the remains are buried.” He glanced at Judith. “I fear the same must be done for your man as well,” he said. “For he was attacked by the mad dogs and carries the taint.”

She nodded, her eyes filling with sudden tears. Even worse than she’d imagined. “Aye. Though he has died unshriven, I will speak with Father Anselm about paying an indulgence for him. Mayhap there is yet hope of saving his soul.”

Malcolm nodded, his expression softening slightly. He looked as if he were about to speak, but Hugh interrupted. “Lady Judith rides with me.” He dismounted, his feet thudding onto the ground with the jangle of chain mail.

“Wait, Hugh,” she said as he reached for her. She hesitated, then went to Holbert. “Piall had a small cage. Mayhap—”

“Aye, my lady. I’ll find it. Or make one,” Holbert assured her, carefully taking the bundle of birds she offered. “But now you must get you back to the keep. I smell rain in the air again, and night is due to fall.” His expression was as grim as she felt and she patted his arm.

“Many thanks,” she told him, then swept her attention over the men in the clearing. Several of them were still digging graves for the dogs, and it would take them some time. “Thank you all.”

Hugh lifted her onto his horse, and the beast shifted and pranced at her light weight. But she’d hardly settled on the back, riding astride due to her man’s breeches, when Hugh swung up in front of her. She wrapped her arms around his waist and prepared for a long ride back to Clarendon.