Spectre of the Sword (2 page)

Most of the fire went
out of Elizabeau.  The concept was still mind-boggling; she hadn’t known of her
brother Arthur’s death until two days ago and was subsequently informed that
she had been named his heir.  But that was providing she marry the prince of
the Holy Roman Empire, a man with a name she didn’t even know.  All of this to
create an alliance that her Uncle John and his ally Phillip could never break.
It was a maelstrom of politics and she was caught up in the eye of the storm. 

Gazing down into the
faces of the most powerful men in England, she knew it was a destiny that she
could not refuse, as much as she wanted to.

Du Bois dug his spurs
into his charger just as the high-pitched screech of an arrow penetrated the
muffled noise of the rain.  De Lohr and du Burgh scattered, the earl finding
cover behind a kitchen wall as the old justicular scampered back into the
house.   Rhys put his massive arm over Elizabeau, pulling her into a crushing
embrace against his armored chest as they fled the confines of the yard.  She
could hear the sounds of more arrows behind her, of de Lohr’s men shouting and
scrambling. 

It was the sounds of
war.

CHAPTER TWO

The destrier was so
exhausted that huge flecks of foam kept flying back and smacking her on the arm
or in the chest, and Elizabeau had to turn her head on more than one occasion
to keep from being hit in the face. But the big black beast pounded onward into
the torrential night, sheets of water pouring from the sky and entire cities of
lightning filling the clouds.

Rhys had taken them away
from the main road almost immediately.  They had entered woods so black that
she could scarcely see a foot in front of her face, never mind the terrain. 
After the first few harrowing minutes, Elizabeau finally closed her eyes and
lowered her head, praying fervently that she wasn’t about to break her neck
when the horse made a bad step and threw her off.  But so far, the charger remained
surefooted and Rhys directed the horse through the black grove of trees.

There was a small row of
homes and an equally small avenue once they exited the woods.  Rhys plowed
through someone’s side yard, into the avenue, and back out through another row
of thatched-roof huts.   There was a field on the other side and the horse
raced wildly into it, leaping over a stream and continuing on into the next
cluster of trees.

They rode for hours the
same way. Eventually, the small villages surrounding London came to an end and
they found themselves in open territory.  Twice Rhys had backtracked and
crossed his own path so if there was anyone following, the tracks would be
muddled.  With his clever path, and the continuing rain, he was confident he
could lose anyone in pursuit that had managed to escape de Lohr’s defenses.

But it was exhausting
work. The horse was hearty and responded eagerly to Rhys’ commands, but even
the beast would eventually have to rest.  Elizabeau simply held on to the
pommel of the saddle and kept her mouth shut, miserable with the circumstances
but knowing this was being done to save her life.

The rocky road was
swamped with water and mud that flew from the charger’s hooves as the animal
grunted down the path.  The land around them was pounding with rain.  Though
wrapped tightly in an oiled cloth cloak, her feet had been uncovered by the
wind and wild ride and were soaked through.   Yet she did not complain; at this
point, her exhaustion had set in and the fight had momentarily left her.  She
was simply looking forward to the point when the horse would stop and she would
be able to sit on something that wasn’t moving.

Through the sheets of
driving rain, lights became evident in the distance.  Du Bois increased his
pace, entering the small berg of Ealing and heading for the fortified manor to
the north and west of the town that belonged to Thomas Courtenay, Earl of
Osterley and strong supporter of the John’s opposition.  Even through the rain
and wind, he could see it in the distance as he passed through the main street
of the town, though he made sure to keep his attention on his surroundings in
case dangers lurked.  As they approached the manse, he unstrapped his
double-barrel Welsh crossbow and perched the weapon on his left knee as he switched
the reins to his right hand.  Being left-handed, he was deadly accurate within
several dozen yards.

Courtenay’s manor was
separated from the main part of town, secluded behind enormous walls that were
manned by sentries.  Rhys could see them as he approached.  When a man on the
wall lifted his hand to Rhys in greeting, Rhys lifted his crossbow and neatly
shot the man off the wall.

He dug his spurs into
the charger’s sides, prompting the exhausted animal on again at a harried
pace.  Elizabeau grabbed hold of the saddle lest she slide to the ground.

“What’s wrong?” she
cried.

Rhys tried to hold on to
her, his crossbow and the reins at the same time.  He didn’t answer her as he
drove the horse into the nearest bank of trees.  Behind him, he could hear shouting
over the driving of the rain.

“Sir knight,” Elizabeau
ducked as a small branch came at her head; it missed her but struck du Bois and
did nothing more than glance off. “What’s wrong? I thought we were…?”

“It would seem that
Courtenay’s house is occupied,” he replied, somewhat wryly. “We will have to
find alternate quarters for the night.”

She almost slipped off
as the charger made a sharp turn in the bramble. “What do you mean? How do you
know this?”

Rhys grunted when
another branch caught him heavily in the shoulder. “Be still.  If we’re being
pursued, they’ll hear your voice.”

Elizabeau gripped the
saddle with white knuckles.  The horse took another sharp turn in the darkness
and she suddenly lost her grip, sliding off the wet saddle before Rhys could
grab her.   She fell heavily, landing in the muck.

Du Bois turned his weary
horse about in a flash. To their left was a heavy cluster of trees and
overgrowth and he plowed the horse into it as far as the beast would go. Dismounting
swiftly, he secured the horse and raced to where Elizabeau was picking herself
up.  Grabbing the woman by the arms, he yanked her into the brush.

“Are you injured?” he
asked with quiet urgency.

She shook her head, a
bit dazed. “I… I do not think so.”

“Then stay here and be
quiet.”

It was not a request.
Elizabeau looked at him with wide eyes but she did as he commanded.  Rushing
back to the area where she fell, du Bois used a fallen branch to sweep their
tracks clean. Even though the rain would very shortly wash away any evidence,
still, he wanted to make sure they were not detected. Dropping the branch, he
raced back to their hiding place and made sure the horse was adequately
concealed. 

He dropped to his knees,
taking Elizabeau down with him. His brilliant blue eyes scanned the forest,
ears attuned to any sound. But the rain continued to fall around them and the
trees remained relatively silent.  After several long, tense minutes, he let
out a sigh and turned to the lady beside him.

“Are you sure you did
not hurt yourself when you fell?” he whispered.

She looked at him, his
features barely visible in the dark night. “I am sure,” she breathed. “What
happened back there that we had to flee? Were we being chased?”

His gaze lingered on her
a moment before returning to the forest beyond. “Not chased.”

“Then what?”

He paused a moment
before replying. “The sentry.”

“What about the sentry?”

“No sentry would have
lifted his hand to me in greeting. He would have demanded my name before ever
showing me a measure of welcome.”  When she opened her mouth to question him
further, he cut her off. “Be quiet now. Your voice carries a mile and I’ll not
have you give our position away.”

It was an insult, but he
was probably correct. In fact, she couldn’t get too angry over it so she
plopped on her rump and tried to huddle under the oiled cloak, which was now
completely covered with mud.   It was freezing, wet and miserable but, contrary
to her nature, she didn’t open her mouth to complain. She wouldn’t give du Bois
the satisfaction of commanding her to be quiet again. He seemed to like it too
much.

The charger swung its
big head, knocking her on the side of the face with his foamy lips. Features
contorted with disgust, she wiped the saliva from her cheeks and spread it on
the leaves beside her.  She looked up to see du Bois watching her. His gaze
lingered on her a moment before turning back to the dark forest beyond. There
was no compassion in his expression at all. He only wanted to make sure she
wasn’t going to make a sound; he could have cared less about her comfort.
Tired, wet, and disgusted, Elizabeau scooted away from the horse but du Bois
stopped her.

“Nay, lady,” he rumbled
softly. “Stay where you are.”

She was prepared to snap
at him but again decided to keep her mouth shut.  Du Bois could bully her all
he wanted and she wouldn’t say a word.  Turning her head away from him, she
laid her left cheek on her up-bent knees and closed her eyes, struggling to
keep the tears a bay. Her exhaustion had them very close to the surface.

But her eyes flew open
and her head came up as the sounds of hooves suddenly intermingled with the
rain.  Shouting filled the air and soon there were horses and men tramping in
the distance, several of them with torches.  They were heading for the cluster
of trees that shielded them.  

Eyes wide with fear,
Elizabeau slid back in du Bois’ direction until she brushed up against him. 
The closer the men came, the more terrified she grew.

“They’re coming closer,”
she hissed. “We must run.”

He shook his head
steadily. “They would only chase us down.”

“But they will find us,”
she pressed. “We must flee!”

He turned to look at
her, then. “My horse is bordering on exhaustion, my lady,” he replied quietly.
“He would not get much further before collapsing and that would not be a good
thing on open ground. At least here, we have cover.”

“But they will find us.
There is no where to go should we become boxed in.”

Rhys’ brilliant blue
gaze remained on her a moment before his eyes suddenly traveling upwards into
the trees surrounding them.  An idea occurred to him as he reached out to
finger one of the yearlings. “Can you climb a tree?”

She could see where he
was leading and her gaze snapped to the canopy above. “These trees will never
hold you,” she hissed.

“I am not concerned with
me. I am only concerned with you. Can you climb a tree?”

He was deadly serious.
They stared at each other a moment and she felt that odd buzzing sensation
again in her head as their eyes met.  Though distracted by it, she nodded.
“Aye.”

“Good. Then get ready to
climb. I’ll push you up as far as I can, but the rest is up to you.  And you
will stay there and not make a sound no matter what you see or hear. Is that
clear?”

She nodded, wide-eyed,
before returning her gaze to the approaching group.  It seemed as if there were
dozens of men, carrying both torches and weapons.  They were spread out in a
search pattern, searching for tracks on the ground. Just as they entered the
edge of the trees, a rumble sounded off to the east.  Elizabeau and Rhys turned
their attention to the new sound, seeing a large party of men on horseback
approach.  They, too, had torches and swords drawn.  Beside her, Rhys suddenly
stood up and moved to his charger.

He removed his
double-sheath and two broadswords from where they were lashed to the saddle.  
The swords were almost as long as Elizabeau was tall, enormous weapons that
Rhys slung over his back and secured in a harness that wrapped around both
shoulders and across his narrow waist.  All he had to do was reach over either
shoulder to unsheathe a weapon, or even both at the same time, making him twice
as deadly an adversary than the normal knight.  He then took his shield in one
hand and the re-loaded cross bow in the other.  He was preparing for battle. 
Elizabeau watched him anxiously.

“Where do you go?” she
demanded.

His brilliant blue eyes
watched the approaching party in the distance. “De Lohr approaches,” he
replied. “I must be ready to defend you if the fighting grows close.”

She turned to see the
large contingent of men closing in on the group that was near the edge of the
trees.  In fact, the group near the edge of the trees was scattering as de
Lohr’s forces closed in.   Soon, the clash of metal filled the air as the
battle commenced.

Rhys stood beside
Elizabeau as they watched de Lohr and his knights engage the others.  Elizabeau
recognized de Lohr himself in the middle of it; he was a very large man and
there was no mistaking his size or strength.   The sound of men struggling for
their lives was amplified in the rain, which was now pounding with epic
proportions.  The wind howled through the trees, whipping branches about and
creating spray.   Elizabeau watched the battle, pulling her cloak more tightly
about her slender body.  It was an awesome sight.