Cast Love Aside (31 page)

“Erland cannot do anything to Norbard,”
Magnus said in response to Desmond's remarks. “He’s imprisoned in
England.”

“Does Norbard know?” Desmond asked.

“Probably not, unless he has some secret
source of information,” Magnus admitted. Dismissing the question of
how much Norbard knew, he began to speak of what he planned for
that day. “We must leave here shortly after noontime in order to
reach our rendezvous with Captain Piers. Norbard may decide to
track us with dogs again, so we'll walk part of the way in the
stream, before we take to dry land and make a run for it.” He rose
from the base of the tree where he had been sitting and looked
downstream as if judging how good their chances were.

“You’re a fool if you think Norbard won't
have men posted on both sides of the stream,” Desmond said.
“Furthermore, he’ll be able to see the
Daisy
from some
distance away, and he'll quickly guess why she is lying off-shore.
Do you intend for all of us to swim to the ship, or are we to wait
on the beach for a rowboat, while Norbard's men-at-arms hack us to
pieces? And who's to say that Captain Piers will arrive where he's
supposed to be, at the appointed time?”

“I don't see that we have many choices,”
Magnus said.

“No, you wouldn't,” Desmond responded in a
scathing tone. “There are always better choices than the ones you
make.”

A tense moment passed before Magnus said, “In
that case, tell us what you think we ought to do.”

“We could steal some horses and ride for
Normandy,” Desmond said. “We'd be safe enough there, where King
Henry rules, and we wouldn't have to wait for a cursed,
undependable ship to appear.” He got to his feet to pace to the
edge of the island and back again, his restlessness giving Lilianne
the impression that he was eager to be on his way.

“Your idea does seem a bit precipitous,”
Braedon said, “especially when we consider how reliable Captain
Piers has always been. Personally, I prefer to wait for the
Daisy
.”

“I will not sit idly by while Norbard closes
in on us,” Desmond exclaimed. “Nor will I return to that filthy
cell, to survive on stale bread and sour cider until I'm executed.
I am leaving.”

“No,” Magnus said. “You are not.”

“Ah, but I am,” Desmond told him and took a
single, purposeful step toward the stream.

Magnus was much larger than his brother and
more heavily built, but he could move as quickly as a pouncing
lion. Before anyone in their little group had time to draw another
breath or make a move to stop him, Magnus punched Desmond hard on
the jaw, knocking him flat on his back.

“What are you doing?” Gilbert cried. Leaping
to his feet, he placed himself between the brothers. “Desmond has
suffered enough. And, while he was suffering, he tried his best to
help me. I won't allow you to abuse him.”

“Trust me, Gilbert; Desmond hasn't begun to
suffer,” Magnus said. Rubbing his knuckles, he stepped around
Gilbert, to loom over the felled man. “You may not leave us, and
you will follow my orders until we reach England. If you want to
complain about me to Royce, or to King Henry, feel free to do so
then. We haven't come this far, or risked all of our lives, to have
you ruin our mission with your heedless, irresponsible antics. Do
you understand me?”

Desmond got to his feet slowly, one hand
rubbing his jaw. Planting his fists at his waist he faced Magnus,
standing so close that they were nose to nose, with barely an inch
separating them.

“If you ever lay a hand on me again,” Desmond
said, “I will kill you. Do
you
understand me?”

“Desmond, really, you are the most provoking
man!” Lilianne exclaimed. “Almost every thought that Magnus has is
devoted to returning you safely to England. The least you could do
is thank him for releasing you from captivity, but I haven't heard
a single word of gratitude. Instead, you try your hardest to arouse
his temper. I insist you begin to behave like a grown man, instead
of acting like a naughty boy.”

For a moment Desmond looked very much like
the naughty boy she had called him, a boy caught out in deliberate
mischief. Lilianne saw his surprise that any woman would dare to
speak to him in such a manner, and she thought she detected a flash
of shame in his gaze. The emotion was gone in an instant and
Desmond swung back to face his brother. His next words reminded
Lilianne of a child who had been reprimanded and who knew he was in
the wrong, for he changed to a completely different subject.

“After the adventures of yesterday my feet
are sore,” Desmond declared. “The guards at the manor stole my
boots. I lay claim to the boots of the first man we kill.”

“Done,” Magnus said, as if they had just
struck a bargain.

“If there's to be fighting against Norbard,”
Gilbert cried, “I’ll need a knife or a sword.”

“We’ll try to avoid a battle,” Magnus said,
still glowering at Desmond.

Lilianne was afraid Desmond would utter some
new inflammatory remark in an attempt to goad Magnus into further
violence. She was grateful when he shot a glance in her direction,
then shrugged and walked away. She saw how closely Magnus watched
him, but Desmond made no attempt to set off on his own. Gradually,
the anger between them seemed to subside.

As the sun reached its zenith they ate the
last of their food. Then, on Magnus's order they departed from
their island shelter and began to wade downstream. No one spoke.
They were all listening for the barking of dogs or the sound of
men-at-arms tramping through the underbrush. So far as they could
tell, Norbard did not have men watching for them along the
stream.

When they finally took to the land again they
moved cautiously through the forest until they were close to the
isolated spot where Captain Piers was to send a rowboat to meet
them.

“I don't see the
Daisy,”
Desmond said,
peering toward the sea.

“We’re early,” Magnus told him. “We will
wait.”

Desmond swore under his breath and added a
complaint about his aching feet. Despite her continuing irritation
with him, Lilianne could sympathize, for Desmond's badly torn hose
were no protection from stones or broken branches that lay on the
forest floor, and he had stubbed his toes several times.

For the next hour or two they remained in the
shelter of the trees, seldom speaking, and Lilianne could see in
their faces that the men were growing more worried. No travelers
passed along the dirt road toward either Calais or Boulogne, and
the beach lay completely deserted. More importantly, not a single
ship appeared.

Gilbert napped and woke, and slept again.
Desmond paced with restless energy, occasionally swearing about his
sore feet. Magnus stared out to sea, where mist obscured the
horizon, while William and Braedon stood guard in case Norbard
should find them and attack.

Just when Lilianne thought she could bear no
more waiting, Magnus stirred and pointed to a shape emerging from
the mist.

“There she is,” he said quietly.

“You can't be sure it's the
Daisy,
”
Desmond objected.

“It is,” Braedon said, squinting toward the
oncoming ship. “I recognize the sail.”

“Do we have to signal to Captain Piers?”
Lilianne asked.

“No.” Magnus's arm came around her shoulders.
“By the arrangements I made with him, as soon as the ship is close
enough to shore, he’ll order a rowboat let down. The rowers are to
wait just beyond the surf until we show ourselves. When we see the
rowboat, we’ll run across the beach to the water's edge to meet it.
Until then, we stay hidden where we are.”

The
Daisy
drew steadily nearer, and
Lilianne's heart began to beat faster. She prayed that Norbard
would not find them. Just a little longer, she told herself, and if
fortune favored them, they would all be out of danger. Gilbert
would be safe. Desmond would be rescued. Magnus's mission would be
successfully completed. She couldn’t think beyond that.

“Gilbert,” she murmured, gently shaking the
dozing boy, “wake up. It's almost time for us to leave.”

“Here comes the rowboat,” Braedon said.

“Let's go,” Magnus ordered.

His hand on Lilianne's back urged her
forward. With Gilbert at her side she raced out of the trees,
across the muddy road, through a section of bushes and rough
grasses, and onto the sloping, sandy beach. Braedon and William
were in the lead and the rowers must have seen them, for Lilianne
noticed how the men strained to pull the boat through the surf.
Gilbert gave an excited laugh and ran faster, outdistancing
Lilianne.

Behind her, Desmond began to cough. Lilianne
glanced around to see him doubled over, gasping for breath, with
one arm clutching his injured ribs. Magnus slowed, waiting for his
brother. When Desmond continued to cough, Magnus backtracked to
catch him around the waist and support him.

From the direction of the road came the sound
of hooves and loud voices, as Norbard and half a dozen men-at-arms
appeared. A shout of triumph rang across the beach, telling
Lilianne that she and her companions had been recognized. With
Norbard yelling for haste, lest their quarry slip away, the
horsemen rode right through the bushes and well onto the sand
before dismounting.

Ahead of Lilianne, the rowboat skimmed
through the surf. Safety was so tantalizingly close.... Lilianne
willed her legs to pump faster. She was already on wet sand, and
Gilbert was almost at the boat. William caught the bow, holding the
craft steady.

Braedon grabbed Gilbert around the waist,
lifted him and dumped him into the boat. The next thing Lilianne
knew, Magnus swooped down on her, catching her and tossing her
almost on top of Gilbert, who quickly scrambled out of the way.

By the time Lilianne had righted herself, the
men on shore were engaged in a fierce battle. Even Desmond was
involved, using the sword he had snatched up back at the manor.

A cry from William caught Lilianne's
attention. She watched in horror as a streak of red appeared on the
left side of his tunic. Gilbert leaned out of the rowboat to seize
William's sword from his failing hands and Lilianne, without a
second thought, twisted both of her own hands into William's
clothing and dragged him aboard. He fell into the bottom of the
rowboat, where he lay unmoving.

“We ain't stayin' here to be slaughtered,”
yelled one of the rowers.

“Braedon, stop them from leaving!” Lilianne
screamed to the nearest of the battling men.

Braedon heard her and laid a heavy hand on
the side of the boat to prevent the rowers from departing. An
incoming wave aided his effort, but Norbard and the men-at-arms
were determined that no one should escape. Lilianne saw a slashing
broadsword strike Desmond's left arm.

“Desmond, get on board!” Braedon shouted. He
was still holding the rowboat steady with his left hand while he
used the sword in his right hand to fend off two men at once.

In the next instant Lilianne watched in
frozen horror as Norbard splashed through the water to confront
Magnus. With grim determination on his face, Norbard raised his
sword to deal a killing blow. Magnus lifted his own sword to parry
the strike. Desmond joined him and together the two brothers smote
Norbard, slashing each of his arms.

Norbard went down, submerged in salt water
until his men hauled him out and dragged him to the beach.

Meanwhile, Desmond hung white-faced against
the rowboat. A moment later Magnus heaved his brother over the
side.

“You next, Braedon,” Magnus ordered in a
remarkably calm voice.

Braedon didn't argue; he threw his sword into
the boat and jumped in after it.

Magnus shoved hard on the bow of the boat,
using his mighty strength to turn it and push it so far into the
surf that Norbard's men were unlikely to venture after them.

“Row, damn you!” Magnus shouted to the men at
the oars. Slowly, painfully, he dragged himself up and, with
Lilianne and Braedon both helping him, he climbed into the
rowboat.

“One of the oarsmen is wounded,” Gilbert
cried.

“How the devil did that happen?” Magnus
gasped.

“I didn’t see,” Gilbert answered, “but his
shoulder is bleeding.”

“Then, I'll row,” Magnus said, shoving the
injured man aside and sliding into his place.

“You’re bleeding, too,” Gilbert objected.
“Magnus, I can row. I'll help you.”

Gilbert sat next to Magnus and placed his
hands on an oar. From the look he sent in Lilianne's direction she
knew better than to tell him to stop. Having been denied a chance
to fight, Gilbert wanted to contribute as best he could to their
escape.

Magnus smiled at her in silent reassurance
and Lilianne felt tears stinging her eyelids. They had done it;
they were safely away from France.

But at what cost? Seeing the bleeding men
slumped in the bottom of the rowboat, Lilianne could only pray they
would all survive.

* * * * *

It took some time to hoist the wounded onto
the
Daisy.
Once again Lilianne climbed up the net, with
Gilbert scrambling nimbly in her wake and swearing manfully at the
blisters on his palms.

“Well, you would insist on rowing,” Lilianne
told him.

“I'd do it again,” Gilbert said. “Do you need
help?”

“I can manage. I’m fast becoming an expert at
net-climbing.” She swung her legs over the rail and tumbled onto
the deck to face Captain Piers.

“Good heavens!” she exclaimed, staring at the
captain's blackened and swollen eye and his split lip. “What
happened to you?”

“'Twas my other passenger did this, shortly
after ye left me,” Captain Piers explained. “That cursed Norbard
fellow wanted ta know why ye were aboard and what ye were plannin'
ta do once ye got ta France.”