Hostage Bride (26 page)

‘She knows that but does not care,’ she said sadly.

‘She must hate him very much,’ he commented.

‘Yes, I believe she does.’ Rosamunde looked at him. ‘You know my lord well. Is there no way we can prevent him from fighting the baron?’

‘At the moment he is sleeping,’ Janquil said. ‘In the morning I shall tell him of the secret way. By such a means we could let our men into the castle. Tell me exactly where the lever is to be found, my lady. I begin to see what we might do.’

‘I know my lord is a brave fighter, but I fear treachery,’ Rosamunde said. ‘When Sigmund discovers I am not there, he will be angry. Raphael will be alone. If the baron chooses, Raphael may be taken prisoner and slain without a chance to fight.’

‘This is what I have always feared,’ Janquil told her. ‘My lord is too stubborn. He might have deceived the baron for your sake, but he is a man of honour, and now he will keep his promise to fight—but there
is
something we might do…’

* * *

‘Be of good heart, my love,’ Raphael said and gazed down into her face. His fingers trailed her cheek and her white throat. Her body felt as if it were melting. She wanted to melt into him so that they need not be
parted—for if he died what was there in life for her? ‘If God is on my side I shall win this day and then we shall be wed. I swear that we shall never be parted again while I live.’

‘I love you,’ Rosamunde said, head high as she smiled bravely. The time for begging was past but now she had a plan to save him if the baron betrayed him. ‘You have my love and my prayers.’

He bent his head and kissed her softly, incredibly proud of her bravery. ‘Keep that in your heart until we meet again.’

Rosamunde nodded and stood back, watching as Janquil mounted and rode off with his master. He turned once, making a slight movement of his head, as if to indicate that all would be well.

Rosamunde blinked and looked at the men waiting to escort her back to Mornay. She walked towards the horse that she was to mount and then stopped, shaking her head.

‘I want to go with the men,’ she said. ‘I want to go back through the passage with you into the castle. I must be there. I cannot ride to safety when my lord may lose his life.’

‘Raphael would hang us all if we allowed you to do that, lady. We must obey his orders,’ said one of the men in dismay.

‘You may, but I shall not,’ Rosamunde said forcefully and turned. She ran up the slight incline towards the ruins. Raphael had no idea what Janquil and the rest of his men had plotted together, but already she could
see the knights and men-at-arms preparing to enter the tunnel. Behind her, the men detailed to escort her had paused, unsure of what to do.

Rosamunde saw the last of the men enter the tunnel and went in after them. Three had flares held aloft but the darkness held no fears for her this time. She was determined to see what happened. Raphael’s men would not dare to interfere if the fight took place, for his fury would know no bounds—but, if the baron betrayed him, they would fall upon them and rescue him. The baron’s men would not expect an attack from within and the attackers would have the advantage.

Hearing a sound behind her, Rosamunde looked over her shoulder and saw that her escort had decided to follow after all. They made no attempt to drag her back, and she smiled, knowing that all the men felt as she did: they wanted to be there in case the baron reneged on his word. They all knew Baron Sigmund was not to be trusted in the slightest. Raphael was in more danger than he imagined.

* * *

‘What?’ Baron Sigmund glared at the old woman as she stood before him. ‘Why can you not bring Lady Rosamunde to watch the combat?’

‘Because she has gone.’ Griselda cackled, a look of wild glee in her eyes. ‘I helped her to escape and she went last night.’

‘Damn you!’ He struck her across the face, knocking her off her feet. Towering over her, he swore furiously.

‘If this is the truth, you will suffer the torments of the damned.’

‘Nothing you do now can harm me,’ Griselda said defiantly as she rose to her feet and stood before him once more. ‘You killed my son, your half-brother. When you did that I vowed revenge—and this day I have it.’

‘Damn you.’ The baron caught his sword but even as he lifted his arm a fanfare drew his attention. ‘You will keep. I have more important work for my sword,’ he snarled.

He strode away, watching as two men rode into the courtyard. Seeing that Raphael had brought only a puny squire with him, he smiled. The fool was unprotected. He had planned to fight man to man in order to show the woman he held hostage that he was invincible in battle and was deserving of her as a prize, but now there was no real purpose to the fight. He had the son of a hated enemy at his mercy. He would hang him and be done with it.

Striding towards Raphael, he saw the squire fall back, and then turn tail and run in the direction of the hall. He laughed, because the man was clearly terrified.

‘Let the rabbit run,’ he said as one of his men moved, as if to stop him. ‘He can do us no harm. He will be caught and dealt with later. He cannot escape.’

‘My squire is here under a flag of truce,’ Raphael said coolly. ‘He must be allowed to leave without harm, whatever the outcome.’

‘I find I am not minded to fight this day,’ the baron drawled. ‘You are a fool, Mornay. You are completely
at my mercy. I do not know why you rode in here without an escort to see fair play, but since you have I shall accept the gift you offer. I hated your father and now I have a score to settle with you. Sir Edmund was my blood kin and his death must be avenged.’

‘We shall settle this by combat as we agreed,’ Raphael said firmly.

‘That was before the wench managed to escape me.’ Sigmund scowled. ‘I see no reason to waste my breath fighting you when I have you at my mercy. Once you are dead, I shall take all that was yours—your lands, your castle
and
your woman.’

‘You are a coward and a fool, sir,’ Raphael retorted. ‘I have come with all honour to fight you. Let it be done according to the rules of chivalry and retain your own honour.’

‘I have none to lose,’ Sigmund said with a sour twist of his mouth. ‘My father wanted to put his bastard in my place. I killed them both and took what belonged to me. Why should I give you the chance to kill me?’

‘You swore that you owed loyalty to King Richard—was even that false?’ Raphael asked heatedly.

‘If Richard comes here I shall bend the knee. I am no fool, but I serve only myself. Richard will not remain in England for long. He loves war and the chance of glory. Besides, he will be too busy holding his throne to bother about my business.’

‘You are a knave and without honour. Your blood would taint my sword,’ Raphael said grimly. ‘I was warned not to trust you and I should have listened.’

‘Take him!’ the baron yelled to his men. ‘Drag him from his horse and bring him here.’

For a moment the men were too stunned to move. They were rogues who lived by the sword, but a flag of truce was sacred, and so was the promise Baron Sigmund had given to fight in single combat.

‘Damn you, do as I tell you!’ the baron roared. ‘Or I’ll hang the lot of you.’

Galvanised into action, four men moved towards Raphael, trying to grab him and pull him from his horse. He drew his sword and slashed at them, cutting into the light armour of chain mail they wore.

‘Pull him down. What are you—weaklings? He is but one man.’

‘One man too many for you,’ Raphael cried and dug his spurs into his horse’s flanks. The beast snorted and leaped forward, shaking off the men on the ground. Raphael rode at the baron, who drew his sword and prepared to defend himself. ‘Will you fight me now? Call off your dogs and fight like a man?’

The baron lashed out at the horse, causing it to shrill, rear up and almost unseat Raphael. He clung on, bending low in the saddle to sweep down with his sword arm and strike at the baron’s arm.

Sigmund gave a scream of anger or pain and struck again, his sword striking the metal guards that protected the lower half of Raphael’s leg.

His men were watching the battle, looking uneasily from one to the other. Then the sound of bloodcurdling cries alerted them and suddenly thirty or forty
men were pouring out into the courtyard. They wore the same colours as Lord Mornay and charged towards him as Raphael whirled on his horse and then rode at the baron once more.

Men-at-arms, who had been trying to decide how best to help the baron, were suddenly under attack themselves. They called for help, and their comrades who had been watching from the battlements began to make their way down the stone steps, but there was room for only one or two at a time.

Raphael had dismounted and was now engaged in hand to hand combat with the baron. Outside, the sound of a fanfare could be heard. Some of the men on the ramparts looked down at the huge company of knights that had gathered below their walls. Suddenly, a cheer came from every throat on the battlements and someone gave the order to lower the drawbridge.

Raphael and the baron fought on, but the rest of the men fell silent and put down their swords, disengaging as the fanfare sounded again and they saw the advance party of knights. They carried the King’s standard and, as they saw it, man after man took up the cheering! Then they threw down their swords and one by one fell to their knees as a tall man rode forward.

‘God save His Majesty! God save the King!’

Gradually becoming aware of what was happening, Raphael stood back, lowering his sword. He would not fight in the presence of his king, for all men must bend the knee. In that moment, the baron struck a terrific blow against his shield and sent him staggering back.

The baron stood over him, his sword hovering as Raphael fended his shield and struggled to rise.

A woman’s scream was heard and suddenly Rosamunde came from nowhere; racing towards the baron, she flung herself on his back and put both hands over his eyes, blinding him. He had been so intent on his kill that he was taken aback, and turned round and round in a circle, trying to shake her off and roaring in frustration. Her nails scratched across his face, poking at his eyes and making him yell out in pain. In seconds Raphael was on his feet. He picked up his sword and struck at the baron’s legs, which was the only place he could strike without injuring her. Rosamunde fell off and lay on the ground, winded and shaken, until Janquil rushed to pick her up and carry her to safety.

‘Enough!’ the King cried. ‘The next man to use his sword in anger will be hanged by my order.’

Baron Sigmund’s head swivelled. He saw Richard’s face and his own fell, his mouth opening in shock. He stood back, finally dropping his sword. Then he went down on one knee, leaving Raphael and the King the only two men still standing.

‘Well, my old friend, it seems that I am in time,’ Richard said and smiled. ‘Though from what I could see you were well on your way to victory before I arrived.’

‘It seems someone else had less faith in me than you, sire,’ Raphael said, and looked angry. Across the compound Janquil was trying to control Rosamunde but she broke from his hold and ran to Raphael’s side. ‘That was the most foolish thing I have ever seen. I sent
you home. Why did you defy me and come here?’ he asked furiously.

‘We all came through the secret way,’ Rosamunde explained. ‘We feared treachery from the baron—he might have killed you had the men not come to your aid.’

‘Go back to Janquil at once,’ Raphael ordered, his lips white.

‘You are angry because I tried to help you.’ The colour drained from her face. ‘You were down. I thought he would kill you before you could rise.’

‘I should not have allowed that to happen, lady,’ the King said and smiled at her. ‘Your action was brave but unnecessary. Your lord was in command of the situation.’

‘How could he…?’ Suddenly realising who she was addressing, Rosamunde’s cheeks flooded with colour and she sank into a curtsey. ‘Forgive me, sire. I meant no disrespect.’

‘Go with Janquil, as your lord requested,’ Richard advised her. ‘Yet I would not have you leave us too soon. Your lord hath told me of his intention to wed, and you have proved yourself worthy of our respect. It is in my mind that I would speak with you later in private—after I have dealt with the situation here.’

‘Yes, sire.’ She glanced at Raphael but his expression was icy cold. ‘Forgive me.’

Rosamunde bowed her head and returned to Janquil. She knew from Raphael’s manner that he was very angry indeed with her.

‘I have offended my lord,’ she said dismally to Janquil.

‘He was so angry with me. What have I done that was so very wrong?’

‘You have made a fool of him before his men,’ Janquil explained. ‘It was clear that you imagined he needed help, and that shames him.’

‘But the baron stood over him. He would have killed him.’

‘He was in no way finished,’ Janquil argued. ‘The baron struck a foul blow after Raphael put down his sword because he was in the King’s presence. However, I have seen him down, without either shield or sword, and yet winning the contest. My lord is a mighty warrior indeed. You should not have acted as you did, lady.’

‘Then why did you open the secret way for the rest of us?’

‘Because the baron is an evil man who would not have stuck to his bargain. He reneged on his promise to meet Raphael in single combat. Had the men not disobeyed his orders and entered the castle, Sir Raphael might have been hanged in revenge for Sir Edmund.’

Rosamunde bit her lip. She looked across the compound, wishing that she could be there and hear what was going on.

‘What will happen now?’

‘The King is mediating between them,’ Janquil said. ‘It might be that he will decide they should settle this by combat.’

‘No!’ Rosamunde caught the sob that rose to her lips. ‘My lord may be killed after all.’

‘No, look—the baron is on both knees before the King.’

‘Now he has risen to his feet.’ Rosamunde wrung her hands in distress. She dared not disobey either the King or Raphael by approaching them and she could only watch as the King began to speak.

‘Oh…’ she gasped. ‘The baron is picking up his sword. What is going to happen?’