The Falls of Erith (24 page)

They
watched him walk off towards the east, the tall knight with the damp blond
hair.  Though he was slender, he had very broad shoulders and muscular arms. He
had fought valiantly at the tournament the day before, falling only to a man
nearly twice his size. But he had accepted defeat graciously. Brooke had felt
rather sorry for him.  When Dallas disappeared into the trees, Brooke and Edgar
turned their attention back on each other.  Edgar reiterated the fact that
Brooke knew nothing about men and women. Brooke punched him in the arm and he
fell off the wagon.

Dallas
was oblivious to the fight going on back in the wagon as he wandered deeper
into the trees.  His knightly senses were highly attuned to the area around
him, not wanting to fall across something indiscreet between the lady and Sir
Braxton. He knew very well that his liege had set his sights on the lady. They
all knew, and no one blamed him. She was a beauty.

The
trees grew denser and more than once a pointy branch caught on his armor. 
Birds twittered above his head, the waning sunlight filtering through the heavy
oak branches. He could see a small clearing up ahead and, oddly, there was
something lying in the middle of it. He couldn’t quite tell what it was until
it suddenly moved.  A hand went up; a gloved one. He recognized the glove.

Dallas
broke into a run, plowing through the trees and into the clearing. He reached
Braxton just about the time the man was trying to push himself up into a seated
position.

“Braxton,”
Dallas grabbed him to steady him. “What happened?”

Braxton
had a nasty crack on the back of his head; his scalp was split and there was
blood all over his hauberk.  Moreover, the world was rocking dangerously and
Dallas’ voice sounded like it was coming from very far away.  He shook his head
feebly.

“I
do not know,” he grunted, then his eyes peeped open. “Where is Gray?”

Dallas
looked around, seriously concerned. “I do not see her,” he held on to Braxton
as the man tried to steady himself. “Did she do this?”

Braxton
glared at him as much as he was able. “God, no,” he blinked his eyes, trying to
focus. “Find her, Dallas. All I know is that the last I saw of her, she was in
my arms. And then everything went dark.”

“But
you are injured…”

“Find
her,” Braxton barked savagely. 

Dallas
let go of him and stood up, studying the mashed grass beneath their feet.  He
whirled around, trying to find a pattern, but the grass was too dry and too
mashed to discern much of anything. His fear began to rise.

“I
do not see any blood,” he said. “Do you suppose she ran off after your
attacker?”

Braxton
was fighting down the bile in his throat, his senses becoming more oriented and
a strong sense of trepidation taking hold. “More than likely whoever hit me
took her.”

“A
wild animal, perhaps?”

“I
doubt it. There would be blood all over the place if that was the case. More
than likely, it was a man with a weapon.”

Dallas
could suddenly see a clear path leading off towards the north east into a
cluster of trees. “But to ambush you,” he paralleled the path, realizing it was
indeed something of evidence. “Why would someone hit you on the head and take
the lady? It makes no sense.”

Braxton
was struggling to his knees, seeing where Dallas was heading. Hand on the back
of his head, he took a deep breath to settle the spinning world. “Do you see
something?” he asked his knight.

Dallas
took off at a run, disappearing into the cluster of trees.  He yelled something
that Braxton could not understand. Braxton struggled to his feet, weaving and
stumbling after his knight.   By the time Braxton reached him, Dallas was on
his knees in some soft dirt behind a massive oak.  It was cool and dim and
musty in the bramble.  Braxton walked up to him as quickly as his shaking legs
would allow.

“What
is it?” he demanded.

Dallas’
blue eyes were focused intently on the marks in the dirt. “Horse shoes,” he
muttered. “And look; over there. Fresh horse dung.  Someone was here, and quite
recently. The earth is still damp.”

Braxton
shook his head, struggling to clear his vision. His head wasn’t swimming so
much now, but it hurt badly. He knelt opposite Dallas, very careful not to
disturb the ground.  He realized that only his determination to discover what
happened to Gray overrode his terror for the moment.  He feared that if he was
to lose that focus, he would quickly deteriorate into a blathering fool. 

“There
are markings on the shoes,” he noticed quietly. “Can you make them out?”

Dallas
lowered his head so that his nose was almost in the dirt. After a moment, he
shook his head. “Nay, my lord,” he said. “I see the mark, but I do not
recognize it. But look over there,” he pointed to footprints a few feet away.
“Do you see those? Boots”

Braxton
peered closer. “Heavy, well made. See the distinct imprint of the heel? This
was someone of means.”

“It
is a big man,” Dallas said what they were both thinking. They looked at each
other and Dallas could see the anguish in his liege’s eyes. “Who else would
wear footwear like this but a knight or some other man of property?”

Braxton
put a hand to his temple, trying to rub away the pain. “I fear that I was being
followed and was not even aware,” he said with disgust. “God, what is happening
to me? I used to be so much more astute. I used to know all, see all. But I did
not see this.”

“Maybe
they were not stalking you at all,” Dallas interjected softly. “Maybe they were
stalking the lady.”

Braxton
lifted an eyebrow. “Indeed they were,” he said slowly. “And because of my
foolishness, they were able to take what they sought. They waited until we were
alone. Rather than invite a confrontation that I would very well win, they
chose to ambush me and steal her. Bastards.”

Dallas
could see that he was already beating himself up over the situation. “It was
not your fault, my lord,” he said steadily. “You could never have anticipated
such a thing.”

“Maybe
not, but I should have.” Braxton continued to stare at the imprints, fighting
off a clutching sense of horror.  He finally motioned to Dallas. “Return to
camp and assemble the men. We ride in search of Gray before this trail gets
cold.”

Dallas
nodded and was gone, leaving Braxton on his knees beside the soft earth.  He
was struggling tremendously against his panic, telling himself that it would
serve no purpose. He needed to focus, to find Gray. Moreover, he would have to
explain to Brooke that her mother had disappeared and, if for no other reason,
had to remain strong for the young lady’s sake.

He
stood up on weak knees, feeling an odd stinging in his eyes. He rubbed at them,
realizing it was tears.  He allowed himself a painfully brief moment to feel
his emotion, letting the tears fill his eyes.  He could not believe this had
happened. It was beyond comprehension. What made it even more painful was that
he had never seen nor heard anything; as a knight, his life had depended on his
senses. But they had failed him at a critical instant for his senses, at that
very moment, were consumed with the woman in his arms. He had been blind to all
else. But he sought comfort in the fact that there was no blood anywhere, which
more than likely meant Gray was still sound and whole.  He could only pray that
it was true.

“God,”
he muttered. “Please keep her safe until I can get to her.”

Wiping
his eyes, he pulled himself together and made his way back to camp.

***

She
was not going to go easily.

Gray
struggled against a man twice her size, kicking, punching, anything she could
manage. But he was still able to get her on to his charger and ride off,
tearing through trees and bushes, across streams and through mud to wipe out
their trail.  He finally managed to get her by the hair, which effectively
ensnared her as they rode at break-neck speed into the sunset.

De
Aughton was no fool. He had a good grip on her, and for good reason; he did not
want her to injure herself in the struggle and he furthermore did not wish for
her to escape.  At some point, the lady relaxed out of sheer exhaustion and
when he relaxed slightly also, a hand came up and nearly gouged his eyes out.
It was enough to cause him to lose his grip and topple off the horse, nearly
taking her with him. But not quite; Gray stayed mounted and, with actions fed
by terror and exhilaration, turned the big bay charger back in the direction
they had come.  It was a split second decision made in a wink of an eye. She saw
the opportunity and she took it.

The
horse was exhausted and excited and she kicked it as hard as she could to make
distance between herself and de Aughton.  She could hear the knight behind her,
yelling, but the sounds were growing fainter. The charger was grunting as it
galloped, foam flying from its mouth as she urged it down the road.  It had
been a good hour since she last saw Braxton. She prayed that he was all right
after the blow he had received to the head.  It was all she could think of.

Gray
turned to see if de Aughton was following them; she could not see him back down
the road, which would have been likely impossible given the speed the horse was
traveling. Still, she was terrified.  She had to get away from him and back to
Braxton.  As the trees sped over her head and the horse grunted loudly, she
leaned forward on the beast and showed him the end of the reins now and again. 
She was, in fact, fortunate the charger was responding to her at all. Most
chargers were one-man horses and would only respond to their owners. But this
horse was young and apparently not yet fully trained.  It was Gray’s saving
grace.

She
followed the road and did not go back into the brush the way the de Aughton had
originally taken them.  Gray was astute enough to know that they had originally
camped on the outskirts of Milnthorpe; when de Aughton had grabbed her, he had
headed east into the setting sun. She was now traveling with the nearly-set sun
against her back. It would be very dark soon and she did not want to be caught
out in the dark.  Since the road was so wide, she assumed it would run into
Milnthorpe at some point.  There would be no other town in this area that would
warrant such a well traveled path.

She
was right.

Gray
passed straight through the heart of Milnthorpe, fully oriented as to where she
was.  The charger was wet with exhaustion, but she pushed the animal through
the town and onto the road heading east.  Her heart was thumping against her
ribs and she choked back the sobs as the road narrowed into a heavily wooded
area that she finally recognized. Just through the trees to the south was the
area where Braxton had set up camp.  As the charger heaved and snorted, she
pushed the animal across a small clearing and through a hedge of trees. 
Immediately, she saw Braxton’s camp and the great fires burning around it. Then
the tears came.

She
dismounted the exhausted charger and led the beast the rest of the way. Wiping
the tears off her cheeks, she entered the main body of the camp and noticed it
was oddly vacant.  But she heard voices in one of the larger tents and she
recognized one of them. It was Brooke.

Dropping
the reins, she burst into the tent to find her daughter and Edgar sitting near
Sir Geoff’s pallet. Brooke was crying. But one look at her mother and the girl
shrieked, throwing herself into her mother’s open arms. The women came together
in a great bustle of sobs and tears.

“Mama!”
Brooke wept. “Where did you go? Sir Braxton said you had been taken!”

Gray
held her daughter tightly. “I was,” she did not want to elaborate further; she
was simply glad to be safe. “Where is Braxton?”

Brooke
pulled away from her mother, looking her in the eye. “He went out to search for
you. They all did.”

“And
they left you here alone?”

The
girl shook her head. “There are a few soldiers about.”

Gray
took her daughter by the hand and led her out into the cooling evening. A
massive fire burned in the middle of the camp, sending sparks into the deep
purple sky.  Gray moved past the fire, calling for the guards that her daughter
said had remained. It wasn’t long before two men suddenly showed themselves,
having run from the perimeter of the encampment when they heard the distinctly
female voice calling.

They
were younger men, their eyes wide on the lady.  “My lady?” one of them spoke
hesitantly. “What are you doing here? Sir Braxton said…”

She
interrupted him. “You must find him immediately and tell him that I have
returned. How long has he been gone?”

“Not
more than an hour, m’lady,’ the other man said. “They cannot search much longer
in this darkness. I would expect him to return shortly.”

“Be
that as it may, you will please go and find him and tell him that I have
returned,” she instructed. “He must know immediately.”

The
soldiers nodded smartly and were gone. She could hear them calling to
companions in the darkness, letting them know that the lady was in camp. Soon
shadows emerged from the trees, men who had been guarding the perimeter that
were now back in camp. She counted eight of them.  Feeling distinctly more comforted,
not to mention suddenly weary, she took Brooke and went back into the larger
tent.