Hostage Bride (25 page)

‘I am not afraid.’ She spoke the words aloud to comfort herself. ‘There is an end to this tunnel and I shall come to it if I have courage.’

She had never felt so alone, never been so terrified, but one thought drove her on: she must reach the end and find Raphael before he accepted the baron’s challenge.

* * *

‘God be praised, you have returned unharmed.’ Raphael clapped the brave knight that had carried his message on the shoulder. ‘I prayed that Sigmund would honour the flag of truce but I could not be certain.’

‘He came to the gates himself and spoke with me, my lord. He bade me tell you that this is a matter of blood feud, and you must give your word that this must be settled between the two of you. Sir Edmund was his kinsman and he believes you executed him on a trumped-up charge.’

‘Is that what this is all about?’ Raphael frowned. ‘Did you give him my message? If he will allow Rosamunde to go free, I will accept a truce and leave in peace—but if he refuses I shall fight to the death.’

‘He says he will fight you for her. If you kill him,

his men will allow you to take her, but if you lose she belongs to him.’

‘How can I agree to such a bargain?’ Raphael said, flinging away with a cry of despair. He stood in the darkness, his back towards the knight. A feeling of despair and anger swept over him. ‘I have a plan, but if it does not work she will be at his mercy.’ He shook his head. ‘Leave me, sir. I would be alone to think on this. If I give my word…No, I cannot let him have her.’

‘We could take the castle by force, my lord?’ his man suggested.

‘Perhaps, but men would die—and the baron might make her suffer for it. Leave me now. I shall think on this for a time before you take my answer.’

Raphael felt the pain twist inside him. It was unthinkable to leave Rosamunde to the mercy of Baron Sigmund. He was prepared for single combat and hopeful that he would prevail—but supposing he failed? If he gave his word to the baron that this matter would be settled between the two of them, he could not in all honour allow Janquil to spirit her away as they’d planned.

Be damned to his honour! As a young squire, and then when he was knighted, Raphael had sworn before God always to behave with honour. To give his word and break it was a foul trick and would be a stain upon his reputation for ever—yet the alternative was not to be thought of.

Rosamunde could not be left to that devil’s mercy. Raphael would sacrifice not only his life but also his honour to see her safe.

His mind made up, he summoned his messenger.

‘Go back to Baron Sigmund. At the hour of ten bells tomorrow morning, my squire and I will enter the castle alone under a flag of truce. I shall meet the baron and the winner will win the hand of the lady Rosamunde Meldreth.’

‘But my lord,’ the knight said, somewhat startled, ‘the men are ready to storm the castle and take her.’

‘I have a plan to bring her out,’ Raphael replied. ‘If I fail, you have my permission to do as your hearts dictate. Take revenge for me and rescue my lady if you can for love of me.’

The knight looked puzzled but inclined his head and turned away to where his horse stood ready, a squire waiting to assist him to mount.

Raphael looked back at the camp, where his men were sitting by a fire roasting meat in the flames. They were talking and laughing, seemingly filled with confidence. He could not face them at this moment. Walking into the darkness, he sought solitude and a chance to reflect.

Where was Rosamunde at this moment? He felt that she was in trouble and afraid. Of course she must be, knowing that she was a prisoner of the baron. He might already have harmed her, forced her…No; even the thought was too painful. He could not bear it and thrust it from his mind.

Rosamunde was his. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted a woman in his life. He loved her, loved
her passionately with all his heart and being, in a way that he had not dreamed he could ever love anyone.

As the realisation swept over him, he was filled with a sense of joy mixed with despair. Rosamunde had completely taken away the pain of his first wife’s death and in its place had come a deep, warm and abiding love that he believed would last his whole life. He had never realised that he could love like this. Rosamunde had showed him his true nature and if he lost her now his life would not be worth living.

‘I vow I will not fail you,’ he said, and fell to his knees beneath the branches of an ancient oak. ‘If God grants me victory, I shall show you how much I love you—and if I die I pray that you will be safe.’

Tears slipped down his cheeks in the darkness. He had learned to understand himself and his feelings for Rosamunde—but was it too late for the two of them to find happiness together?

‘I cannot lose you. I cannot let you suffer at that beast’s hands.’

Rising to his feet, he steeled himself, shutting off emotion as he had so often in the past. He must be strong. Nothing mattered but the woman he had come to love. All his hopes rested with Janquil. His servant was slight, his shape almost womanly. It was his plan that he change clothes with Rosamunde once they were inside. As they had entered under a flag of truce, Rosamunde—masquerading as Janquil—would be allowed to ride out and take Raphael’s fallen body back to his men, if the absolute worst happened.

If Rosamunde had the courage, she could take Janquil’s place and escape to freedom—but would she? Raphael remembered her declaration of love and feared that she would lose her head and give in to her grief.

He must kill Baron Sigmund. It was the only way to be certain of securing her freedom. He knew without boasting that he was an excellent fighter, but all the reports of the baron said the other man was truly fearsome in battle. Raphael had to prepare himself for it to be an even fight, with perhaps only an even chance of triumphing.

* * *

Once or twice the air in the passage had become very stuffy. Rosamunde had feared that her torch would go out and she would be forced to continue in the dark. She’d heard scuffling in the darkness and knew that there were some kind of creatures here. Once a furry body brushed her ankle and she gave a scream of fright. Would the rats attack her?

Whatever it was she had disturbed, it went running off, probably as frightened as she. She breathed deeply, her throat tight. How long had she been in this terrible place? It felt like the end of the world, as if she were dead and searching like a lost soul for the way across the River Styx.

The walls of the tunnel had been damp at one stage, water trickling down the walls. However, for a while now the air had been better and the rock on either side of her was dry. She noticed that she appeared to be climbing
upwards and her spirits lifted. Surely she must be coming to the end of this foul journey? Soon she would be out in the fresh air—and then what?

Griselda had told her she would come out in some ancient ruins. From there she needed to find the village, because Raphael’s camp would not be far away.

She might soon be with him. Her pulse raced and her pace increased. What time was it? She had no idea whether it was night or morning. Would she be in time to stop the combat between Raphael and the baron?

Ahead of her she could see a glimmer of light. Running towards it, she began to realise that the entrance to the passage stood open, covered only by living vines. Thrusting them to one side, she emerged into the fresh air and looked about her.

She was clearly in what had once been a chapel and she could see the shape of a stone cross lying amongst the rubble. What had happened here? For a moment she seemed to hear the cries of terrified priests as invading hordes cut them down and she shivered. The entrance to the passage was guarded by the ghosts of long ago, keeping away curious villagers. She ran through the fallen stones and stood on the grassy bank that rose above the surrounding countryside. Away to her left was a flickering light that gave a red glow to the night. The glow must be the fires of Raphael’s camp; it was no more than half a mile distant.

Her torch flickered, spluttered and went out. Throwing it down, Rosamunde began to run towards the glow of the campfires.

Raphael sat with his back to the tree. He knew that he must rest. He had no appetite for food, yet he ought to eat if only to remain strong for the next day. Baron Sigmund had agreed to meet him in single combat the following morning at ten.

‘Rosamunde, my love,’ he whispered into the darkness. ‘If I could but look upon your face once more…’

Thrusting aside the thoughts that could only make him weak, he rose to his feet. He must rest if he were to be strong enough in the morning. To think of her now would drive him mad.

He stared up at the sky. The moon was full, shedding its silvery light over trees and bushes, the road leading to an early Christian church that had been razed to the ground in the ninth century by invading Vikings. Someone was running from the ruins—a woman. Something about the way she moved drew his gaze, holding it, his heart beginning to drum so it became thunder in his ears. ‘Rosamunde…’ He could not see her and yet his senses drove him forward as he began to run. ‘Rosamunde, my beloved!’

She had seen him and she cried out something. He increased his pace and then she was close enough for him to see her face.

‘It
is
you—my dear one! Rosamunde, they told me you were his prisoner—how came you here?’ he cried out.

‘Raphael!’ she cried and threw herself into his arms, a sob in her voice as he held her close. ‘I was locked in
the tower but escaped with an old lady’s help. She hated the baron passionately because he killed her son—his half-brother, baseborn out of wedlock.’

‘My love.’ He clasped her to him, holding her close as if he hardly dared to believe that she was here in his arms. She could hear his heartbeat, feel her own racing wildly as he gazed down at her, his look so wild and passionate that it sent shivers through her. ‘You are safe. God has answered my prayers. Now I can meet my fate with a brave heart.’

She looked up at him, close to tears. ‘No, you must not meet the baron in single combat. No one has ever beaten him. He is bigger and heavier than you, Raphael. There is no need to fight him now. I am free; let us return to the castle and be safe together.’

‘My word is given,’ Raphael said and looked down at her, a smile of understanding on his lips. ‘You must not be afraid for me, my dearest one. I have fought many warriors as brave and fierce as the baron. Now that I know you are free, I can fight with a free heart. Have courage, my dearest, for God is with me and I shall prevail.’

‘Please, I beg you, do not fight him,’ she pleaded. ‘I escaped so that you would not have to give your life for mine. The baron never meant to set me free. Had he killed you, he would have taken me as his whore, or his wife if I pleased him.’

‘That was my fear and will remain so if we leave now. You will never be safe unless I fight him and win,’ Raphael said, and his arms tightened about her. ‘You
must not be anxious, Rosamunde. Now that I do not have to worry for your sake, I shall be stronger.’

‘Please, no…’

He closed her mouth with a passionate kiss, his lips so tender that she near swooned against him. She clung to him but held back her tears, knowing that his mind was set and she must not continue to beg.

‘Hush, my love. I must fight, for this score remains unsettled between us. If it is not settled now we shall none of us be able to rest in peace,’ he said gently.

‘If you die I shall not want to live. I have no one but you. My father is dead and I will not return to my cousin’s service,’ she said brokenly.

He drew back and looked at her. ‘Your father lives and I have already made arrangements for your future. He will have money enough to employ men to defend you both and to give you a dowry, should you choose to marry another.’

‘Baron Sigmund told me my father was dead!’ she exclaimed.

‘He lied. You are not alone, Rosamunde. Besides, I truly believe that I shall prevail,’ he said determinedly.

‘Will nothing sway you?’ She would not beg and yet she truly feared that she would lose him if he fought, for the baron was so strong.

‘Nothing you can say will change what must be,’ Raphael reiterated and smiled at her reassuringly. ‘Fear not, I shall not fail you. Now, I shall take you to the camp. When I ride to meet the baron, six of my men
shall take you back to Mornay. You will wait there until I come for you.’

‘And if you do not return?’ she whispered.

‘Then you must go to your father.’

‘If it is your command, my lord.’

‘Not my command—my wish. I would not have you come to harm, dearest one,’ he said tenderly.

‘I shall do as you bid me, my lord.’

How could she say otherwise? She loved him so, but it would break her heart to lose him.

A tear trickled down her cheek. Raphael frowned and smoothed it away. ‘I must see you safe and then I should rest. I need my strength for the morning and if I spend the entire night with you I should be too weak to fight,’ he teased gently and was rewarded with a wan smile from her.

‘M
y lady, forgive me for not saving you from this ordeal,’ Janquil said as he brought her food and wine. ‘Alone that day, I could do nothing when you were captured by Sir Ian, though I would gladly have given my life for yours. I knew I should be killed and then no one would know where you were. It was my duty to let my lord know what had happened.’

‘Had you not returned to the castle to inform them of my capture, my lord would not have been here to rescue me now. I escaped the castle, but had I been forced to find my own way to Mornay I might have been recaptured or starved to death before I reached safety,’ she acknowledged.

‘Tell me, lady,’ Janquil said as he squatted on the earth beside her. ‘How did you escape? My lord did not tell us.’

‘Through a secret passage that leads from the ruins
to the great hall of the castle. An old woman showed me the way but would not come with me. She wanted to see Baron Sigmund’s face when he discovered that I escaped.’

‘He will kill her.’