Siege Of the Heart (32 page)

Once the last of the soup was gone, Julien set the bowl aside and looked at her in silence.

She was consoled by his gaze and hoped the circumstances belied his relief at being reunited with her. Just seeing him again was a balm on her soul, easing the guilt and pain, which had plagued her for far too long. But, she was beginning to cramp and could not wait any longer to fracture the moment. “Are you going to untie me?”

An apologetic look stole over his features. “Not yet.” He casually glanced over his shoulder. Surely the men around camp were too occupied in their own endeavors to overhear their exchange. Julien finally turned back to her. “Father bade you to stay in Ashdown,” he said in French.

It took her a moment to absorb the accusing tone he had levied at her. “How could I stay there when William would have our family greet him in London?”

He shook his head. “Still, your actions have made it all the easier for some Norman cur to take advantage of you.”

“I have only done what William wished of me,” she said, not sure why she needed to defend herself.

Julien sneered. “And how many men did you sleep with before you secured such a favorable future? You should have been married off to a nice Englishman well before now. I argued with Father to get you settled on more than one occasion. But you were always too stubborn. And now you have let yourself be defiled by these conquerors.”

She knew the signs, knew that he was impassioned with English rhetoric and imbued with a false sense of superiority. Her temper rose to match his, but she found the emotions sapped too much of her strength to show him just how unjust his words were. She wanted to shake some sense into him, but everything about the situation prevented her. She was speaking to Julien the rebel, not her brother.

“You forget our namesake. There was never any danger to me, to us, from them. Only our loyalties needed to be confirmed,” Isabel said through her teeth.

“I was not about to let those Norman fiends take our country from us. They had not the right…”

“They had the Pope’s blessing,” she said quietly.

He faltered for an instant before he found the thread of the argument he had memorized by now. “Rome does not command us.” The response was firm, but it could not fool Isabel.

“You have already lost. Just look at you and your men. You are nothing but animals in hiding. Julien, you would have been spared if you had not—”

“Had not what? Fought for my king, fought for the glory of my country? I did my duty, something you and our father never could understand.”

“Julien…”

“No, Isabel, you need to listen to me. I saved you from the Normans, saved you from having to sell yourself like some common house whore to those men.”

“But I have already been married off. It is too late to speak of saving.”

Her somber tone brought a frown to his face. “I tried to stop it, stop them from taking you, but you were always so closely guarded, even on the road to London.”

“What do you mean?” He watched her, patiently waiting for her to puzzle it out as he had when they shared their lessons so long ago. Isabel shook her head, trying to make sense of his words. “Are you saying you organized the raid against Alexandre’s men?”

He gave a short nod. “I was surprised at how fiercely you were protected.” He quieted, then softly, he began again, his voice full of condemnation. “I heard how you yourself fought against my men.”

“How could I have known…” He had tried so hard to reunite them and prevent her from having to fulfill William’s plans. At that moment, though, with Julien’s grim gaze on her, the brutish men surrounding them and the coarse ropes cutting into her skin, she would have fought against her brother’s men all over again had she known this awaited her.

His words interrupted her thoughts. “You know not how it felt to think you had to marry a Norman to secure your place. It disgusted me I left you to such a fate.”

“How did you find out?”

He gave a bitter laugh. “William is still too much in thrall over his victory at Hastings to realize there are still so many who would defy him. When Kendrick joined our band, he had some interesting things to tell me.”

Everything fell into place as his words faded into silence. Kendrick… His wistful gaze as he rode through the gates of her father’s castle was still vivid in her mind. “Is he here?” she asked, surveying the other men more closely. If Julien knew this much about her activities, what did he make of Alexandre?

Julien shook his head. “He and some of the other men journey to one of the local towns for supplies.”

Isabel could not suppress a frown. “Do not tell me you have resorted to blackmailing the countryside for food and supplies.”

The flare of anger in her brother’s eyes stole her breath. He clenched his fists. She wondered if he would smack her for such brutal censure, but there was nothing. “We will be the ones to rid this land of the thieving Normans. And the English people know that,” he finally said.

Tears welled behind her eyelids. She felt so helpless, not for her situation but for her misguided brother and his men. They would die before accepting a different—Norman—way of life, and she could do naught to stop it.

“I am sorry I was too late.”

The sincerity in his voice wrenched her heart. “It is not so hopeless as you make it sound. Alexandre is a good man, and he cares about our people.”

“Bah, he has only poisoned your mind against your country, against your own blood. Just like
Maman
, spreading her legs for some Norman whoreson,” he said with a harsh eye on her still-torn clothing not completely hidden by the folds of her cloak.

Mortification swept through her but she fought for control, concentrating on the ugliness of his words and not the hurt they caused. “Blame me not for finding a few moments of pleasure in all this chaos. I had no one to turn to, and William’s demands left me no choice.”

Something must have gotten through to him for he let the matter drop and switched to English. “We will talk no more on it tonight. You are with us, and we should take comfort in being together again.”

“Julien, you do not know how difficult it was when I learned you and father were dead.”

“I know, little sister, I know, but I am the one who is going to take care of you now. So worry not.”

“But Alexandre and his men…”

“They will not waste their time searching for you. You are not worth the trouble.”

She slowly nodded but his callous words only kindled her secret fears. After all, Alex had already achieved what he had hoped for when he fought for William. Worse still, what if he assumed she ran away? He knew of her temper, her reluctance to marry, her desire to protect her people. He would think on those things and decide she was up to her old tricks again. Mayhap this would be the last straw.

She shifted her stiff limbs, relishing the pained movement so she did not have to ponder the pain in her heart.

“And the ropes?”

Julien’s gaze slid away. “That is not my decision.”

“What do you mean? You lead these men, do you not?”

“It is complicated. I will talk with Alric and try to get him to understand.” Isabel was certain she would have been freed if her brother were in charge—even if he still questioned her loyalty. Not for the first time, she wished she knew him better, knew the man he had become. He looked over his shoulder, and then to her. “Now, you need your rest. I will be with you again in the morn.”

He was right. She could feel the fatigue bearing down on her frame. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead, the gesture confusing her all the more. Julien helped her lie down on her side and pulled a worn blanket over her. With a soft touch on her shoulder, he was gone.

* * * *

Alex reined his horse to a stop, and his men followed suit. They had reached Chalgrove, a small village raided only a few days ago, according to reports. Alex commanded Hugh to accompany Captain Thomas as they visited with the English townsfolk to see if they could glean any more information about the attack. After a short perusal of the town, Alex and the rest of his men sought out the nearby monastery, where they hoped the abbot knew enough French to help them along.

They had spent the last two days combing the land for the trail Isabel’s captor had taken, but it soon disappeared, leaving them with few options. They were close to Chalgrove when they heard about the raids from a merchant they met along the road. With nothing more to go on, they decided to see if anyone in the town was knowledgeable.

Flanked by two of his men, Alex entered the monastery, preceded by a timid cleric. Incense flooded his senses. Grimacing, Alex turned the corner, matching their guide’s movements down another dim, stone corridor. The cleric finally led them into a small chamber where the abbot sat at a desk.

He looked up from an illuminated tome, his brow wrinkled in irritation. “Well? You just missed them. Heading west toward Bampton. But a half-day’s ride.”

“I beg your pardon?”

The priest tented his fingers. “William’s man, are you not?”

“Yes, we are trying to find—”

“The men who attacked the village. Yes, yes. I know all about that.”

“You do? Who are they?” Alex asked.

“I will tell you what I told Captain Radolf.” The priest rubbed his temples. “They stole only supplies. Tenant farms to the north were hit hard. Some young soldier who William sent here was killed when he tried to interfere.”

“I see.” Raiding supplies and livestock was one thing. Killing the king’s men was another, and Alex could not hold back the concern that flared up when he thought of Isabel in the hands of those murderers. “Have there been any other sightings?”

He shook his head. “You will have to find Radolf to learn more.”

What if the two incidents were not linked? Was he so desperate for the truth, he was forcing connections where there was only coincidence? If so, getting involved in the search for the rebels would distance him from his true goal, finding his wife.

The priest cleared his throat. “There is naught more to tell. Be off with you now…unless you wish to unburden yourself of some coin?”

With a reluctant grin, Alex dropped some gold pieces in the proffered offering plate. “And you said I could find Captain Radolf to the west?”

“Yes, yes. They left this morning.”

“I thank you.”

The monk waved him off, and the same cleric led Alex out of the building.

Alex gulped in deep lungfuls of fresh air after escaping the incense that filled the monastery. Jerome waited for him in the yard, Averill standing next to him, wringing her hands.

“What did they say?” Jerome asked.

“A group of rebels came here for supplies, and a force of William’s men are in pursuit.”

“Captain Radolf?”

“The very same.”

“What good fortune!”

Alex shook his head. “Not if the incidents are not related.”

“But we have nothing else to go on.”

“I am well aware.” He looked at Averill.

The serving girl had burst into tears when she learned of Isabel’s disappearance. And the honest reaction helped ease his lingering doubts as to whether Isabel had left him willingly. Although the girl was not accustomed to hard travel, she had not complained once when he and his men abandoned plans to return to Ashdown in order to search for Isabel.

“If Isabel has indeed fallen in with the remnants of Harold’s army, how will she be treated once they learn who her father is?” he asked the girl, setting aside the idea Isabel had to have been targeted for some reason.

“I know not, my lord. I have served the Dumont household since I was a child, and I am not familiar with—”

Alex raised his hand. “Your best guess then.”

“Isabel’s brother Julien was Harold’s man.” The girl swallowed. “Mayhap that will be enough to keep her safe.”

Safe. From what? He ran a hand over his face. He would not think of that. It had only been two days. There was still time.

“What are your orders?” Jerome asked.

“We join Radolf.”

* * * *

Someone nudged her side with a booted foot, waking Isabel from sleep none-too-gently. She grimaced as Julien’s face invaded her vision.