A Lily on the Heath 4 (8 page)

The others in his pack—just as wild and rabid as he—must have caught her scent, for all at once they were all there: surrounding her tree, scrabbling at the trunk, leaping and vaulting up toward her. Trampling the torn, bloody body of her man Piall.

And Judith was trapped.

FOUR

Tabby drew in a deep breath,
inhaling the scent of daisies and honeysuckle. Like her mistress, she enjoyed any opportunity to be out of the chill stone walls of the keep. And after two days of rain and cloudiness, it was a blessing to be able to walk through the grasses and vast gardens beyond the hard dirt of the bailey.
 

This morrow, with Lady Judith gone on her hawk-hunting mission, Tabby was left with fewer responsibilities than usual. Normally, she must be available if her mistress needed a change of clothing or wanted to send a message to someone within the court. Not that Tabby would deliver it herself, but she was often sent off to locate a page to do the actual running. She was also responsible for maintaining the chamber and ensuring her lady’s clothing, bedding and other belongings were clean and organized. And then there was the matter of her furry charges, the elderly mutt, the spunky kitten—and any others she might adopt.

But with Lady Judith away for much of the day, Tabby finished her work shortly after the midday meal. Just before she left the chamber for a much-desired walk, wherein she hoped she might find a sweet pear on one of the trees, the expected message came from the queen. Tabby did as she’d been instructed and sent word back that her mistress was indisposed and Lady Judith begged forgiveness for being unable to attend her majesty today.

Moments later, Tabby went out one of the side doors used by the kitchen serfs. Soon she was walking among rosemary, thyme and fragrant lavender. Beyond the worn pathways in the herb garden were the orchards, lined with trees of pears, plums and apples. And past the rows of fruit trees, currently boasting fruits in various stages of growth, was a small meadow bordered by a forest.

Tabby passed a cluster of ladies sitting on a bench surrounded by rose bushes. She saw two maidservants picking herbs, likely for the monks or the physicians who attended the king and queen. An orange-striped cat stalked something through the tall grasses to the north of a row of apple trees. Two boys played hide and seek. On the meadow, a group of five men-at-arms stood, pointing and talking. Two of them held bows and wore quivers filled with arrows.

She skirted all of them—particularly the men-at-arms. Her papa, a skilled fighter, had been killed years ago while defending Lady Judith’s father’s estate, Kentwood, during a siege. Tabby spent the next five summers caring for her grieving mother even while she served the young Lady Judith, and the experience gave her a strong mislike for any man who wielded a sword.

As she meandered along the edge of the meadow, Tabby alternately hummed and sang under her breath, for she always had a song in her head. Keeping a wary eye on the men, she picked a handful of flowers and looked for strawberries. Lady Judith would surely appreciate a small bouquet of daisies and wild lilies, and perhaps even some of the feathery, silky grasses that shimmered in the sunshine. And there was little more pleasurable than a handful of sun-warmed berries.

Something rustled in the tall grass and she caught sight of a white cottontail as a brown hare bounded off into the forest. Now Tabby was singing in a normal tone, for no one was close enough to hear her. She could see people in the distance; she wasn’t alone or unsafe. Lady Judith oft warned her not to go about or beyond the bailey alone, for there were unscrupulous men who’d hardly think twice about tumbling an unaccompanied maid—whether she wanted to lift her skirts or nay.
 

Then, right at the edge of the forest, she heard more rustling. It was more frantic this time. And the creature remained in one place instead of rushing away from her approach. Curious, Tabby stopped singing and walked carefully toward the jolting, jerking brush. Now she could hear sounds of distress, and as she drew closer she heard a soft squeaking.

When she parted the grasses and saw what they hid, she gave a soft gasp and fell to her knees. “Oh, nay,” she cried softly. “Poor soul!”

A white rabbit lay huddled on its side, kicking ineffectually, trembling with obvious pain. Its fur was stained with fresh blood, bright red against its soft coat. A broken arrow was embedded in its left haunch. Tabby cursed the men and their sport, sending a glare in the general direction of the five men-at-arms.

Despite its agony, the terrified creature tried valiantly to elude her hands when she tried to help him…but he couldn’t move quickly enough. Tabby was able to examine the protruding arrow, noting with relief that it hadn’t gone all the way through the rabbit’s leg. But there would be blood when she pulled it out….

Biting her lip then clenching her teeth, Tabby held her breath and positioned her hand as leverage against the rabbit’s fragile leg. She sent up a prayer and yanked the arrow away with one sharp, smooth movement. The creature squeaked and gave a horrid squeal, then lay there panting and trembling. He watched her with one unblinking pink eye as if to measure her friend or foe. Tabby was relieved to see blood oozing from the wound, but not gushing forth as she’d feared. Maybe it could heal.

“’Tis all I can do for you here,” she said, stroking the creature’s soft fur. “And I trow Lady Judith will have aught to say on her return to find yet another occupant in her chamber, but you must come with me for the rest.”
 

Taking great care, she was just gathering the shuddering creature up into the long skirt of her tunic when she heard footsteps swishing in the grass behind her. She turned, shielding her eyes against the sun.
 

“What do you here, good wench?” called the man as he approached. She recognized him as one of the men-at-arms she’d noticed earlier. He wore a livery she didn’t immediately recognize—therefore he and his master or mistress were new to court. Or were not part of the king’s retinue at all, and mayhap he hailed from a nearby estate. The man’s hair was the color of pale wheat, but his skin was tanned golden and his beard and mustache were honey-colored. He carried a bow and wore a sword at the waist. And, as evidence of his warring ways, there was a long-healed scar along his jaw, running up toward the ear.

Tabby’s heart thudded and her palms went damp. She looked around quickly, suddenly realizing she was out of sight of the others. Nevertheless, she had her own knife—small as it was—tucked into her girdle. She eased it from its sheath, keeping it hidden. The man had made no threatening move, but she meant to be prepared should that change. “I was out for a walk and I found evidence of your sport,” she said—then immediately regretted it.

How many times had Lady Judith bewailed her own thoughtless tongue? And now Tabatha had done the precise thing her mistress warned her against.

“My sport?” rumbled the man. Now he stood so close, his shadow loomed over her.

Tabby swallowed hard. He was big and burly, and the scar made him appear even more forbidding.
Fool! You should not have angered him!
She gripped her knife more tightly and, cuddling the rabbit close in her skirt, rose. “Prithee, let me pass,” she said.

“What do you have there?” he asked. Despite his demand, his voice was kind. Almost gentle. To her relief, he didn’t make a move toward her.

She relaxed a little, but still held the knife behind her. “’Tis naught of interest to you, I trow.” Tabby edged to the side, hoping he would allow her to pass.

“Are you injured?” asked the man suddenly. He stepped closer, now reaching toward her tunic.

“Nay, ’tis not from me,” she replied, realizing blood from the rabbit had seeped through her linen clothing. “’Tis only the fault of you.” And now she moved her arm away to reveal the injured rabbit.
 

“’Sblood, what do you mean to do with that?” he said with amusement in his voice. “Verily, ’twould make a fine stew.”
 

“Nay,” she cried and stepped back. “’Tis because of you he is injured at all. Can you not leave the poor beast free of your violent hand?” Tabby edged further away.

“Ah, miss, I meant it only as a jest,” he said, clearly taken aback by her violent response. “Have you never eaten rabbit stew?”

“’Twas a sad jest,” she spat in return. She was no longer wary of the man, she was furious with him. How dare he say such a thing?

He nodded gravely and rubbed his beard. “’Twas a sad jest indeed. Mayhap I have been in the company of men too long to have a care for what comes off my tongue.”

“Then I pity your wife if you return to her with such unpleasant words about such a helpless creature,” Tabby told him. “Now, pray, allow me to pass. I mean to heal the mess you’ve made of this poor beast.”

The man bent toward the grass, and when he straightened he was holding the arrow she’d pulled from the rabbit’s haunch. “’Tis a pity I must correct you,” he said, reaching into the quiver on his back. “For as you will see, should you care to look, ’tis not my arrow you withdrew from the creature.”

Tabby hardly glanced at the two arrows he showed her: the broken one and the one from his supply. “Very well. ’T may not have been yours on this time, but it could well be in the future.”

“Nay, miss. For I am a much better shot than whoever loosed that arrow,” he said. And for the first time, Tabby caught a glint of humor in his eyes.

“And so you say. I doubt I should ever find out the truth of that statement or nay,” she told him, slipping her small dagger back into its sheath. “Good day, sir.”

She’d walked hardly three steps away when he called after her. “What is your name, then, comely miss?”

She hesitated, then flung an answer over her shoulder, “I am called Tabatha.” Her feet kept at a rapid pace, but somehow when she heard movement in the grass behind her, she wasn’t surprised he’d followed.

“Truly, what do you intend to do with that mangled creature, Tabatha?” asked the man as he fell into step with her. His long legs took one pace for every two of her shorter ones. “Methinks there’s little hope for the wee beastie.”

“If I cannot heal him, then at the least he will die in comfort and safety. Which is more than I could say for my papa, who died alone and on a field of battle.” Tabby’s eyes widened, for she couldn’t believe those words had spilled from her mouth. Was Lady Judith’s loose tongue now become contagious to her?

“I’m very sorry for your papa,” her unwanted companion replied.
 

Tabby made a sound of dismissal and continued to walk at a fast pace. They’d reached the edge of the orchard now and there were others in view. She kept the still-trembling rabbit wrapped closely next to her, however, for she cared not to draw more attention to herself.
 

“Good day, O nameless sir,” she said, turning away at a large clump of yellow-sprigged myrtle.

“I am called Nevril,” he called after her. “Best of luck with the wee critter.”

~*~

With the furious, feral dogs
snarling just below her perch, Judith could not go down…but she could go back up.

And so she did, climbing back up into the tall, swaying pine. She took much more care this time, knowing if she fell not only would Piall—oh,
dear Piall
!—not be there to catch her, but the rabid canines would. And so she went very slowly, branch by branch, trying not to think about the dire situation.

She’d lost one of her most trusted men. Judith’s eyes filled with tears and her stomach lurched, horror at the manner of his death at last sinking in.

And at least one horse was gone…for she’d seen the remains, torn into shreds by the possessed beasts. ’Twas clear to Judith the pack of dogs weren’t hungry and desirous of eating, but that they were well and truly maddened. Wild animals only killed what was necessary for survival, but these creatures were different. Bent only on destruction.

Judith’s hope was to climb high enough that they’d forget about her and eventually leave. Then she must take the chance and climb back down, and hope…what? That she could somehow make her way to help? She had no horse to ride. She wasn’t certain where to go. She and Piall had traveled nearly two hours from Clarendon. Judith didn’t know the way back. They’d passed no town or village on the way, although she remembered Piall pointing out the direction of Marchmonte.
 

She drew in a deep breath, inhaling the fresh pine scent.
Cease your worrying
.
You are resourceful and smart. You will find a way out of this.

With that private lecture, Judith gathered her resolve and climbed still higher. The snarling and barking continued below, but she was safely far away from the beasts.
 

When she reached the nest, Judith once more tied herself to the pine trunk. To her relief, the two eyases were still alive but no longer as desperate for food. They seemed to have settled to rest.
 

She used the advantage of height in the tree to decide which direction she must go once she was able to climb down. Hills rolled in seemingly infinite waves, and the scrub of trees studding the rocky hills didn’t appear welcoming. There was a roadway in the distance, and Judith realized it was her best opportunity. If she could find her way to the road, eventually it would lead her to help.