Chelynne (43 page)

The servants were her friends. In Welby Manor all the loyalty was for the baron, Harry and Eleanor earning nothing from the staff but their contempt. Chelynne was certain she would be aided there and that those who aided her would remain silent for as long as that was possible.

Though impatient to be going and far from hungry, Chelynne took note of Gordon. He was no longer an agile youth and the ride was showing on him. He was moving slowly as if his muscles were stiff and sore and there was a tiredness about his soft eyes that caused her to yield and allow a short repast at the nearby inn.

When the sun was low in the sky they stopped again, in the next village en route. They would be allowed no more safe travel time that night. All airs were cast aside. They shared a room, the only one available. The meal was taken quickly and Chelynne occupied the bed at Gordon’s insistence while he took a makeshift pallet on the floor. No clothes were removed and carefully placed away, no toilette done by doting servants for Her Ladyship. There was little conversation, just each inquiring of the fitness of the other.

At dawn’s first light Chelynne was up and calling for breakfast. She splashed some water on her face and tucked her hair under a hat, with no fuss and no bother. Gordon rose a bit more slowly.

“Are you up to the ride, sir?” she inquired.

He nodded simply with his mouth full of meat for his hasty breakfast, but his eyes spoke otherwise.

“I’ve no wish to press you, Gordon. It’s a taxing trip and I’m certain I could hire a trustworthy escort.”

The man swallowed and cleared his throat. “I’ll not allow you to go without me, madam. I’ve spent too many years with you and your uncle to take any chances on your safety now.”

She smiled her thanks but said, “You’ll be little protection for me if you’re completely exhausted. Think a little on that, Gordon.”

“I’m no longer a lad, madam, but still I can raise a strong arm in your defense, if need be. I’ll not stay behind.”

“I couldn’t have done this without you. I’ll find some reward that suits your loyalty. I promise you that.”

He laughed low in his throat and looked at her with a gleam in his eyes. “I was hoping you would.”

Chelynne started a little, for though she had fully intended a reward, she never expected a request. His loyalty was too strong and his nature too unselfish. “Would you explain what would please you most?”

“Of a certain,” he replied with enthusiasm. “I don’t think my place is with the new lord of Welbering. I’ll be seeking a new position.”

Of course. She had been foolish not to assume this. Harry would never make life bearable for Gordon, especially since he had done this kindness for Chelynne. “There will be a position for you in my household for as long as you want it, Gordon. Will that do?”

He nodded, came to his feet, and they were off again. The day was the same as the one before. A few hours passed and they stopped for horses. Little changed, only the scenery and the people they passed. The next day was equal. Then in the afternoon sun they came to a crossroads and Chelynne paused. She knew this part of the country. Welbering was in the direction they traveled but not very far down that other road she would find Hawthorne House. She hadn’t given much thought to travel plans. She hadn’t anticipated passing this way. And here she was, in her husband’s holding, only a short distance from his house. She glanced wistfully in that direction, thought of hopeless expectations and shattered dreams.

They hadn’t traveled much farther when they came upon a large group of men blocking the road they journeyed down. Chelynne shivered, only now recalling Chad’s stern warning of the thievery in this shire. A few men hailed them to stop, while others lounged under trees as if lazily passing the day there.

“Where’re ye bound?” one shouted gruffly.

“Welbering,” Gordon answered.

“Welbering,” the man mimicked thoughtfully, scratching his chin. “An’ that be a long ride...down this road, seems. There’s another way ye might be bound to take, lies to the east and runs through Bratonshire.”

“But that’s hours out of our way,” Chelynne cried. “We would be foolish to waste so much time.”

“Well, if yer mind is set to this road there’s a meager toll,” he advised her. “Two pound.”

“Who enforces this toll?” she asked.

“Now, dear,” Gordon admonished her. “I’ve got the sum and we’ll pay the toll.” Gordon seemed to be the doting parent in this twosome. He dug into his pouch and offered the coin.

“That’s a wise old man,” came a lazy voice. A man sauntered toward him, with a patch covering his eye and a scarred face that gave Chelynne an instant chill. He looked over the couple astride, a depraved gleam in his eye and his lips parting to show stained and rotting teeth as he leered at Chelynne in particular. His lust was plain and he was completely unabashed. “Be ye ‘is wife or ‘is brat?”

She pinched her lips against a hostile reply and said simply, “The toll is paid and we’ll be on our way.”

“Could be the toll’s gone up in price,” he commented, scratching his lice and eyeing her coldly. One quick look around told her they were completely at the mercy of this band. There was no chance of escape unless they were willingly released. She found her only hope in swinging out at the man with her husband’s earldom, in lieu of the sword she would have preferred.

“I’m interested in this toll. Why is the road taxed?”

“We’ve ‘ad our share o’ trouble along our roads,” he said briefly, in no mood for trivial conversation. She was certain these were not Chad’s men.

“And we’re still in Bryant?”

“Aye.”

“I was told the roads were guarded but I was unaware of the toll. Whose authority have you?”

He chuckled. “A spy, by God.” He reached for her and she quickly pulled back, giving the horse a start and leaving it to dance.

“Let us pass,” Gordon demanded.

“Not just yet, old man. Lord Shayburn imposes this toll,” he said to Chelynne. “What interest ‘ave you in it?”

“It’s a large sum for passage.” She shrugged, playing coy. “And, I was not aware of it.”

“Aye, it’s a fair sum and likely to be more.”

She stiffened indignantly and lifted her chin. “My husband will be interested in this.”

“An’ who be that, me grande dame?” he sneered.

“The earl of Bryant,” she answered clearly. For a moment she had the pleasure of his surprise, but it changed too quickly to that leering grin.

“A pleasure to make yer acquaintance, m’lady.” He smiled. “Fellows,” he said, turning to his companions, “the countess of Bryant.” He made a sweeping bow. “Take ‘er down.”

“What do you dare!” she half shouted, half cried. But she was not heard. Gordon, too, was pulled off his horse, and she was held on both sides by some of the men. Their leader, the loud, insolent man with the patch over his eye, bowed before her. “Captain Alex. At your service, madam.”

“You’re not much at my service,” she spat. “Unhand me!”

“Now, countess, surely ye know that m’lord Shayburn wouldn’t take kindly to sharing a part o’ that toll with His Lordship the earl, eh? We’d be most grateful for your silence on the matter.”

“Of course, just let us pass.”

His laughter was loud and genuinely amused. “In due time, m’lady, in due time.”

Chelynne knew her error. Whatever she might have suffered before the announcement of her title, now she would likely be killed instead. They would kill her and lay blame to the thieves that ravaged this land. As if reading her thoughts, Captain Alex declared, “Another crime for that blackguard who defiles our town.”

There were eager nods and exclamations from the men and they seemed to converge on Chelynne and Gordon as one. She screamed and kicked in anticipation but at the very moment she thought herself lost, loud shouts and cries surrounded them from all sides.

“Good Christ,” Alex muttered, drawing his sword and waving his arms at his men. Chelynne was dragged aside and held still, and in the confusion she saw that a grand, albeit tattered, company of men who must have been hiding nearby had descended on the small party of toll takers. As she studied them she saw that some had actually dropped from the trees, far enough away to go unnoticed. They raced forward like an army of misfit warriors. Most were masked, all were as meagerly attired as yeomen farmers, and of those unmasked she could not recognize one of Chad’s men. These must be that band of thieves, she reasoned, come to upset the road guards and collect their toll. Just as suddenly she realized that the thieves were acting as protectors and the hired protectors had been doing the injustice here.

Still her arms were held, but by one lone man now. She could not see Gordon. They were equal in numbers, these two groups, and she wouldn’t dare bet on the winning side. She would feel safe as a hostage for neither.

A masked man came in her direction, forcing her captor to loose her and take up his sword or die where he stood. She had a strange and eerie sensation as he approached, a recognition, but her thoughts were fast flying in this mayhem and she didn’t think on it. And it was no boxing match. They were, both sides, intent on finishing lives.

She scrambled away and made for her horse, hoping Gordon would have sense enough to follow her if he could free himself. As she prepared to mount she was pulled from behind by Alex himself and thrown to the ground. He held her with a large hand around her throat and fished for his dagger. He sought to quickly close her mouth for good.

She rolled and struggled, unaware of her actions, for the most part instinctively pursuing survival. Her skirts were drawn up in the tussle and her hand found the pearl handle of her knife. She plunged it into the unsuspecting man’s shoulder. It felt like nothing else she had done in her life. For a moment Captain Alex stared down at her in wonder and then he grabbed the dagger with his other hand and rolled over.

Chelynne took advantage of her temporary freedom, knowing that if she stopped him at all it wouldn’t be for long. She could sense him behind her as she fled toward the trees. Suddenly she heard a loud thud and a groan just behind her. She turned to see the same man who had rescued her from her first captor pinning Alex to the ground.

Alex squirmed under the man’s superior weight, trying in vain to throw him off. Chelynne was mesmerized by the sight. Her dagger lay just inches from Alex’s hand. But the masked man did not look at Alex. He looked directly at Chelynne, his eyes the only visible part of his face. He held her with the glittering hardness of his eyes for a moment and then almost casually he reached for the dagger and turned his attention to Alex.

Alex ceased his struggle and stared into his opponent’s eyes. His mouth opened as if he would speak but the knife was plunged mercilessly into his chest. Chelynne’s hand went to her mouth to stifle her cry as she backed away in horror. The trunk of a tree stopped her and she was frozen there. The masked man stood and began to walk toward her slowly, the anger in his eyes making her certain she would be his next victim.

“My lady,” Gordon called from the road. Both Chelynne and the masked man looked in his direction. He was astride with her horse in tow. She looked back at the masked man. His eyes crinkled at the corners as if he were smiling. He folded his arms across his chest and she saw that his own weapon was still sheathed at his belt. Just behind him she could see her dagger protruding from Captain Alex’s chest.

Carefully she inched her way toward Gordon and after just a few steps she could see that he didn’t mean to stop her. He was letting her go. She lifted her skirts and ran toward her horse.

Mounted, she looked once more at the riotous scene. She could no longer tell which of the men had been the one to save her but she silently prayed he would not be hurt.

Gordon and Chelynne rode at a fearful and frantic pace, looking over their shoulders a number of times for following aggressors. When they came upon a town with an inn they stopped in sheer exhaustion, relieved to be among good people again. That was the first time they talked and all Gordon could say was, “What do you make of that, madam?”

She brushed her skirts, thankful there was no blood on her that could not be easily washed off. “My husband must be told at once. He couldn’t be aware of their state or he would have...I’m certain he would have done something more. The guards are far worse than the thieves.”

“Will you tell him?”

“Somehow...I shall.” They took a hasty meal, and by the time Chelynne had finished she had thought of the best means. She asked the innkeeper for a pen and ink and sat down to write to Chad. It would take all her remaining coin to have the message sent, but they were close enough to their destination to make do on what little money Gordon carried.

This would be easier than telling him in person and answering his questions. She explained briefly: they were set upon by guards exacting a heavy toll by the privy order of Lord Shayburn. She didn’t mention they were without escort, that they feared for their lives for a time. She closed with the assurance that they would travel wide of that shire on the return trip, signing only her initials.

Gordon had found a lad to carry the message, and he was given careful instructions and some coin, to be doubled when the earl had the message in hand.

“Put this only in the hand of the earl of Bryant,” she warned him sternly. “If you find trouble at his house you may explain that it is from his wife, but no place else should you give that information.”