Carried Away (6 page)

Blythe threw a bed robe over her chemise and hastened down the stairs, meeting her captor as he limped in the doorway, Schnell at his side. He looked haggard. There was blood on his thigh.

“Stay in your chamber, Blythe. There may still be intruders at large. Don’t be afraid. They won’t re-enter the house.”

She wanted to gather him in her arms, soothe away whatever hurt he’d suffered. “What has happened? Who was that man?”

He braced himself against the newel of the banister and sheathed his sword. He hesitated, considering his words. “It seems I have upset someone. They tried to kill me.”

She clasped her hands to her mouth. “Kill you? Who?” She moved towards him. “You’re hurt.”

He held up his hands to reassure her. “It’s a flesh wound. Nothing more. I’ve suffered worse.”

Her belly clenched at the thought of this beautiful man being wounded or scarred in any way.

Anna came rushing with linens and bandages and Bernhardt assisted their master to his chamber. Blythe followed up the stairs, unsure as to whether it was appropriate to do so. She longed to help him, to make sure his wound was properly tended. At the door of his chamber she hesitated, watching nervously as the valet helped him onto the bed. “Will you be well, Black Knight?”

He raked his hand through his hair. “
Ja
, Blythe. I will be well. Anna will tend me. I know you are worried. They were probably the Emperor’s men. The others will be long gone by now, but we have one of them, thanks to Vormund.”

He smiled, but it was a weary smile. “I told you he was a good watchdog. He probably saved my life tonight. Take Schnell with you. You will be safe.”

But will you?

***

His wound healed quickly. The house became an armed camp. No one spoke of the man who’d been captured in the garden, and Blythe was afraid to ask.

One day in October her captor took her hand as they dined together. The stirrings of desire his touch never failed to ignite flared again. “Lady Blythe, on the morrow I’ll be joining my comrades in an attack against Heinrich’s army.”

Her heart plummeted. Should she beg him not to go? He would think she’d lost her wits. “Why must men always fight and kill each other?”

“
Liebling
,” he replied softly, his eyes caressing her quivering lips, “Köln must be freed from the unjust domination of the Emperor. As for us Saxons, well, the conflict has smouldered since the Great Saxon Revolt many, many years ago.”

Liebling? He called me Liebling! Doesn’t that mean darling? Perhaps I’m mistaken, and it means something else?

Dieter was still explaining, rubbing his thumb over her hand. “Heinrich has made attempts to confiscate Saxon counties as fiefs but has always met obstinate resistance. On the morrow we travel nine miles to Andernach to confront him on the plain.”

Blythe was in turmoil. Nine miles! The enemy was a mere nine miles away. She longed to throw her arms around him, beg him not to go, tell him she loved him.

Love him? Do I love him?

She didn’t know his name. He didn’t care about her. She was his prisoner.

She wished his thumb was caressing another part of her body instead of her hand. If she looked up at him, he would see the wanton desire in her eyes. “Black Knight, I wish you
Gottes segen
on the morrow. Godspeed.”

His eyes widened. He placed his palm against her face. A tear trickled unbidden down her cheek and he wiped it away. “If I don’t return from Andernach, be reassured I’ve sent messengers to your family in England. I’m sure they’ll come for you. You’re too precious to lose.”

Her heart fluttered wildly. She could barely speak as relief swept over her. “My family? You don’t intend to sell me? My parents know I’m here?”

He let go of her hand and straightened, a scowl on his face. “Sell you? Is that what you think of me? If your parents don’t yet know your whereabouts, I’m confident they soon will.”

She didn’t know what to say, stung by the anger in his voice. “I’m sorry, I—was afraid. I didn’t know what you intended to do with me.”

“
That makes two of us!” he blurted out, shaking his head. He rose from the table, clicked his heels together and bowed. “I’ll be gone before you rise so I bid you
auf Weidersehen
now.”

She stood to face him, tears flowing freely. “Black Knight, on the morrow you’ll leave for war, and I don’t yet know your name.”

He saw the tears, drew her into an embrace, brushed his lips on hers and breathed, “My name is Dieter, Count von Wolfenberg.”

His name was the most wonderful sound she’d ever heard. He was a Count! She closed her eyes and opened her mouth to his coaxing tongue. He braced his legs, cupped her bottom and pressed her body gently against him. She felt his erection and thought of what her mother had said about a man and woman joining their bodies. She wanted to crawl all over him, to possess him, to see him naked.

“Dieter,” she whispered. “Dieter.”

“Blythe,
mein Schatz
, you’re so beautiful. I don’t want to leave you, but I must.”

He pulled away and she felt adrift, frantically trying to remember what
mein Schatz
meant. Was she his
cat
? How could he think her beautiful when she’d done her best to present an ugly countenance?

He clicked his heels together again, bowed stiffly, kissed her hand and left.

For the third time the combatants in the conflict between the Holy Roman Emperor and the city of Köln faced each other, this time on the plain of Andernach. Dieter wished he could keep his mind on the business at hand. All he could think of was the bereft look on Blythe’s face when he’d left her. He’d called her
his sweetheart
. Good thing she didn’t understand German, though sometimes he wondered—

He’d left her quickly or he would have torn the clothes from her body and made love to her on the table. He’d never wanted a woman as much as he wanted Blythe Lacey FitzRam. But she would never love him. He’d frightened her. She thought he was going to sell her. “
Mein Gott
, she would think me capable of that?”

His friend Magnus rode up beside him and they surveyed the mighty host facing them. “What do you think of our chances, Dieter?”

Glad to be distracted from his thoughts of Blythe, he shrugged. “Heinrich has a very strong force, infantry as well as cavalry. Spies tell us he has recruited Franconians, Alemannians, and Bavarians, as well as knights from Burgundy. If he stays true to form, he’ll send his dukes to fight the battle, and await the outcome of the conflict at a distance. We number far fewer but cunning and bravery may win the day for us.”

Would he see Blythe again? What a fool to have left without telling her of his feelings.

Magnus looked to his left and frowned. “What’s the command from Archbishop Frederick? There’s a group on the march?”

Dieter rose up in the stirrups to get a better view. Lorraine’s forces were indeed galloping towards Heinrich’s army. “To throw the enemy off balance a little, he has instructed Duke Henry of Lorraine to rush against their flank.”

Magnus struggled to control his skittish horse. “They’ll be slaughtered.”

“Not if they retreat in time.”

A cloud of dust soon gathered on the near horizon. “
Gut
! Duke Henry is retreating, and they are following him. His actions will have unnerved them somewhat. Now, for our part. Count Theodoric and Count Henry of Kessel will attack with us.”

Amid a frightful din of trumpets, the opposing armies came together in a bone chilling clash of horses and armour. For a long time the struggle remained undecided. Screams and moans rent the air as heads rolled, severed body parts thudded to the ground and horses stumbled in the gory mud. Men grunted, sweated and bled. Cries of momentary victory were smothered by the onslaught of the next wave of aggressors.

The muscles of Dieter’s sword arm were on fire. He was covered in mud and blood, none of it his own,
Gott sei Dank
. Somehow he and Magnus had managed to stay mounted and close to each other. In a brief pause he shouted breathlessly to Magnus. “The Archbishop must send in the Special Force soon, or the day is lost.”

As he spoke a group of young men from Köln, specially chosen for their fighting skills, joined the fray, launching a slashing offensive in a wild berserker rage. Their wild cries sent chills skittering up and down Dieter’s spine.

Magnus too shuddered, but breathed a sigh of relief. “They’ll either prevail or die trying.”

As expected, the enemy fell back under the crazed onslaught.

Dieter realized the critical importance of the next move. He rallied his men. “We must join Count Theodoric in a direct attack on the disordered enemy.”

They cheered and followed him as he galloped into the melee. Though it seemed like hours later, they subjugated the dispirited enemy in a short time. Many of the Emperor’s knights were killed or taken prisoner. None of the leaders on the side of Köln were killed or captured except Count Henry of Kessel, a friend of Dieter’s, who fell under a horse’s hooves and perished.

Dieter’s heroic leadership was later credited with tipping the precarious balance in favour of Köln’s forces. Heinrich had failed to capture the city. He abandoned the siege to return to Mainz and his infant Queen.

***

Blythe wandered the halls and chambers of Dieter’s home, the three dogs her ever-present companions. “You miss him too, don’t you?” she said to Vormund, rubbing his ear. Löwe and Schnell nuzzled for her attention.

She played with the idea of attempting an escape while he was gone. But where would she go? Was it possible to get to Tuitium? What would she find if she did make it there? She’d no love of the Emperor, whereas Count Dieter von Wolfenberg—did she want to escape?

The dogs wouldn’t let me go!

The servants were polite, but they also waited nervously for their master’s return. She no longer thought of them as her guards, but doubted they would allow her to leave. She worried about her family. Aidan especially would be bereft at her absence. If only England wasn’t so far away. A woman alone would never survive such a journey.

Perhaps if she disguised herself as a nun? But where to procure such a garb? She’d heard stories of women who’d taken holy orders being raped and murdered. Her own Viking ancestors had not been blameless in that regard.

She had no appetite. Even the garden failed to delight. It seemed there was no recourse but to wait for Dieter’s return. But what if he didn’t come back? What if he was killed? The thought sent her scurrying to her chamber where she collapsed on the bed, sobbing. The handsome knight of her dreams had come into her life, but he didn’t love her, and might never return from Andernach.

“Agneta! Aidan! At last! News of Blythe.” Caedmon’s voice rang through the manor house at Shelfhoc. He clutched a parchment, brandishing it high above his head. “Where is everybody?”

At the age of two score and seven, Caedmon was still an active and virile man, though he suffered from rheumatism in the winter, and his black hair had turned completely gray. He teased Agneta that it was she who kept him young.

Ragna came running. “We were in the Hall. They have found my sister?”

Together they hurried there, bursting through the door with excitement, both shouting at once.

Agneta stood quickly and Caedmon threw his arms around her, laughing. “It’s news of Blythe, at last!”

His wife clasped her hands to her mouth as tears trickled down her cheeks. “Blythe,” she whispered.

Caedmon knew he was shouting, but couldn’t seem to do otherwise. “She’s in Cologne! Of all places! I passed through there during my misbegotten journey to the Crusade!”

Aidan had by now jumped up to grab the parchment from his father’s hands. “What’s she doing there?”

Caedmon slapped his son on the back. “As you see, my boy, she’s said to be a
guest
of someone named Count Dieter von Wolfenberg. We’re invited to
retrieve
her, which is an odd choice of words. The whole epistle is ambiguous. There is no outright mention of money, but—”

Aidan looked angry. “You mean they want us to pay to free her? Is she a prisoner?”

Caedmon scratched his head. “I’m not sure. Though the letter is in perfect English, it was obviously written by someone whose native tongue isn’t English. It’s almost too perfect. I wonder how she came to be a “guest” of this man? The last we heard from our King Henry she was taken forcefully from the cathedral at Mainz when someone tried to kidnap Matilda. Now the abductor wants us to
retrieve
her.”

“Will we all go, Father?” asked sixteen year old Edwin.

Caedmon tousled his youngest son’s hair. “No Edwin, the Empire can be a dangerous place, but I’ll certainly go to
retrieve
my girl.”

“And I will accompany you, Father,” Aidan said with authority.

Caedmon was about to argue, but it was Aidan’s right as Blythe’s twin brother to aid in her rescue. His son had been in torment while Blythe was missing.