When Lightning Strikes (12 page)

“Come now. Have a sit and watch us entertain. We will be going to the village on the morrow. We will eat, drink, make merriment and of course lighten the pockets of a few of
your
kind. No offense, demoiselle, as clearly you are not like them. Perchance one of them will recognize you and inform your family or your lord husband where you are.”

Sarah smiled weakly. “Yes, perchance one of them will.”

For the next couple of hours, by her estimate, she watched the women go through their various routines. Some of them danced sensuously winding their bodies to the music which drifted through the air. A few of them sang. And of course, Indiri was a seer and needed no practice to ply her craft. But she was no ordinary fortune-teller sitting in some booth at the local carnival from what Sarah could determine. This woman was for real. Indiri had somehow known verbatim the words that Sarah’s mother had spoken in the bedroom two nights earlier about love.

She somehow knew about her feelings for Dominic. And furthermore, she said that she would stay here with him! After this morning, Sarah wasn’t so certain that she wouldn’t end up here with him. The more time she spent in his presence, the harder it was going to be to leave.

She hoped a ride into the village would offer her the chance she needed to run. If she went to town with them, she could probably easily slip away amid the crowd while Dominic was performing. She didn’t know how she would survive after that, but she had to do something. And the thought of never seeing his beautiful face again or of touching those lips or looking into those silver-blue eyes tore at her heart. She had only known him for a couple of days and she was falling in love with him. Yes, she was loathe to admit it, but it was true.  And that was why she had to get out of here tomorrow!

Chapter Twelve

That evening, Gilda sat at one of the rough-hewn tables in the middle of the tavern next to a bearded soldier. It was shortly past dusk when he and his men had shown up. She recognized them.

They were the soldiers of Thomas de Lyonne. She knew they traveled the countryside frequently to check up on the lands belonging to their lord and the serfs that worked them. They regularly traveled this way exacting the crops and taxes due to their lord…usually there was no trouble. They were not cruel in their collections, as their lord, Thomas was not a cruel man.

His son, Navarre was another story. Blessed be to sweet Jesus that Thomas was alive and well and not too aged so that it would be years to come before Navarre inherited any of his lands or titles and came into power. She and many of the others prayed that day would never come.

She collected her wayward thoughts and got back to her task at hand as one of the soldiers drained the last of his ale.

“Would you care for another flagon of ale, milord?” she asked, smiling pretty at the bearded one.

His eyes twinkled with delight as they trailed a path down from her face to the swell of her luscious bosom spilling out over her chemise. This woman he had heard the villagers call ‘Gilda’ was a handsome woman with her long blonde hair, tall frame and ample curves. Her blue eyes complimented her golden complexion and her lips were full and sensuous.
Yes indeed, from the looks of her, she probably peddles much more than ale and a good meal
, he thought to himself as he licked his lips.

“I believe I would and what else
would you have to offer me this eve?” his eyes narrowed as he spoke and he arched one brow.

Gilda could tell he was as randy as a goat and she decided to take advantage of this opportunity to possibly find out if these men were here on any special occasion…such as searching for a missing woman. The thought of Marco’s sweet reward drove her shamelessly.

“First you will have your flagon of ale, my fine sir, and then shall see what ye might have to offer
me
. Do ye have what it would take to make me want to take ye up to me room?” Her smile was vixen-like as they come.

She stood and curtsied prettily before him, making sure to bow as low as possible, giving him a better view. She reached frward as she came up grasping his muscled shoulder and stared at his crotch as if gauging his attributes as well. She winked at him before walking away.

He smiled at the men surrounding him raising one eyebrow and heartily slapping his nearest comrade on the back quite certain that he would be sampling her wares shortly.Gilda listened intently as they spoke to one another from behind the bar, taking her time to retrieve the ale.

“Well then, it looks as if you will be having a good roll this eve! That alewife is as hot as a bitch in heat for you!” said the man sitting to the left of the bearded soldier.

The bearded one laughed and nodded.

“Yes, that I shall. But we must not dally too long here. Lord Thomas is awaiting our word. And as for Navarre…he will not take lightly to us dallying a moment longer than is required either in searching for his lady wife, wounded or no.”

Gilda’s eyes narrowed.
Lady wife? Something had happened to Lord Navarre de Lyonne’s
wife Melissande?
She must find out more. She finished filling the flagon and returned to the table.

“And here is your ale, then.” she stated as she sat it upon the table.

“So, what brings you men to town at this time? It is not time for the harvest yet. Did I hear ye say something of Lord Thomas? Ye know we his people adore him. Is he well?” She offered the bearded soldier an innocent smile as she sat back down beside him and began rubbing her hand up and down his leg beneath the table.

He caught his breath as he reached down and helped her hand as it glided up his leg.

“Lord Thomas is well.”

He paused for a moment, winking and moving her hand back up to his lips where he placed a light kiss.

“Lord Navarre has been injured though not mortally. He and Melissande went to the field just east of here yestereve and….”, he stopped in mid sentence and took another sip of his ale before continuing.

“The lady was gored and carried away by a boar in rut before Navarre could stop it. Navarre’s sword arm was gored and he was unable to catch up with the beast before it dragged her into the woodland atop the knoll. He is back at the keep as we speak recovering and we have been sent out to search for the lady to find her or what is left of her and inform our lords.”

Gilda’s breath caught in her throat. Melissande dead? This couldn’t be. Melissande was sweet, loyal, and gracious to the provincials. She made regular appearances to check on the villagers and was so unlike that vicious whoreson Navarre, to whom her family had bound her in union. It was well known how Navarre mistreated the peasants and serfs of these lands… robbing, raping and over-taxing them. Many bastard children were walking among them from the young girls whom Navarre had forced his attentions upon knowing full well that they could not refuse a noble.

There were rumors of how viciously Navarre had treated his wife as well. Sometimes she would appear in the village looking tired and worn with dark circles beneath her eyes; the torment in them quite apparent. He had no doubt abused her physically and emotionally and drained what wealth she had brought to their marriage. And many knew that Navarre’s shrewish mother Marie d’Lacre was behind much of his evil. But none could say or do much because the nobles’ business was their own affair. Lord Thomas seemed to be oblivious to his wife and son’s cruel nature as he was the type of man that looked for the good in people, not their faults.

This was a sad day indeed. Better that Navarre would be dead and the lady alive and well! And why in the name of Jesus was it that a trained warrior such as Navarre was unable to rescue her from naught but an angered creature? Something did not bode well here.

“Have you seen or heard anything at all from anyone? Perchance has any of the villagers or provincials around here found the lady or any remains or clothing?” asked one of the men seated across from the bearded soldier, his eyes traveling to meet Gilda’s.

Gilda was tempted to just tell them about Marco’s visit earlier, but she remembered him asking her to keep any information she obtained a secret except to him. But she was now torn. This was Lord Thomas’ daughter-in-law they were speaking of.

If they did indeed hold Melissande within their camp they could not possibly ransom her. Dominic du Barbaronne was Navarre’s bastard half-brother and could not do such a thing to his own sister-in-law despite his hatred for Navarre. Or would he? Was he wild enough a man, driven by hatred he had endured from the nobles, the hatred he held within his heart for Navarre and the pain he still carried from being abandoned by Thomas to do such a thing? She had met the man they called Nico and she did not think he was that kind of man at all. He was honorable despite what others thought of the Gypsien and their kind.

Gilda’s mind traveled over the stories she had heard so often throughout the years. Everyone knew of the dalliance Lord Thomas had openly taken with a Gypsy woman named Mara many years before. He had even appeared in public with the woman instead of his wife on occasion and it came as no surprise to any of the serfs or townspeople

Thomas’s wife
Marie was not generous or compassionate in her nature. She presented herself as cold and self-centered. But that did not stop her from seeing that she carefully played the role of the dutiful and loyal wife who had been wronged so she could exact as much pity for her situation as possible. She knew full well that the laws of the king and the mores of the people would favor her.

And so it did. After a time, she had successfully gotten Thomas to leave off with the Gypsy woman and banish both mother and child from his life. Navarre would, of course, be
named Thomas’s
only
son and Marie knew she had the upper hand in this.

As far as the nobles were concerned it was commonplace and expected for men of Thomas’s stature to have dalliances with peasants, maids, servants or whomever. But it was always discreet and bastard children of such unions were always denied or at least left unacknowledged.

Thomas had refused to do such a thing at first but later Marie had bent him to her will through guilt tactics and continuous pressure from her family reminding him of their station and their reputation that was at stake. And she had undoubtedly made sure Thomas paid for his indiscretion for all these years as she dumped his coffers and raised Navarre to be her ruthless servant. It was a pity and even through the scandal the people still loved their lord Thomas.

As for Navarre, he was as hated as Thomas was loved but in this situation it would matter little. Dominic was well-known and even liked despite the fact he was a Gypsy, among the villagers and peasants, especially those of the female variety, but in this case the laws of the land would prevail. Even those who accepted and loved du Barbaronne could not allow him to escape with his life were he to try and ransom Melissande back to his noble half-brother. The people would favor Navarre on that one or suffer the consequences themselves.

Perhaps she should just tell these soldiers of Marco’s visit. Then she could warn Marco so the Gypsies could prepare themselves to simply return Melissande with no further ado. But what if she angered Marco and would no longer find favor with him? She did not want to lose his affections. She held so little in this world and his attentions were more precious than anything else she did have.

“Gilda, you look a bit troubled. You are not answering me. Do you know anything of this matter?”

The soldier, now beginning to feel the effect of his drink, eyed her suspiciously. She had been silent for far too long.

Gilda looked up at him, uncertain what to do. If she lied, she could be
beheaded, tortured…Lord only knows what! If she told them the truth, she might lose Marco. She decided in that instant that the safest thing to do was to tell a half-truth.

“Milord, this afternoon I heard some of the villagers saying that they heard that the local gypsy troupe led by du Barbaronne had found a “lost” woman. She could remember naught, from what I heard. She could remember nothing of her name
nor whence she came from. She had been injured I think and lost her memory. They thought that perchance she was a local noble that they might ransom for her safe return. You know how the Gypsys are; they barter for everything.”

“
du Barbaronne?! Surely, the bastard would recognize his own half-brother’s wedded wife!” snarled the bearded one almost spitting out his last mouthful of ale as he slammed the cup to the table.

“No, misseur, I think not. You yourself would know that Navarre and Dominic bear great hatred for one another. They have not seen nor spoken in many years since they were but youths of ten and eight winters! Their troupe travels relentlessly and Navarre would never permit Lady Melissande to be too close to the Gypsiens when they are about the village. Dominic knows of his half brother’s wife but surely would not recognize her if this story is true
and
it is Melissande whom they hold captive. Mind you, it may all be just hearsay amongst the peasants, milord.”

“Hearsay, or no we will find this troupe and if they have Melissande, she will be returned to her lord husband. And if that filthy Gypsien has laid one finger upon her flesh, I will personally flay him alive. Although, I think Lord Navarre would prefer if I bring him in unharmed that he may do it himself!” The soldier’s eyes hardened as he spoke.

Gilda felt the terror welling within her now. Dear Lord what would Marco do when he found out what she had revealed? She must somehow slow them down until she could tell him when he came to her tonight. It was almost closing time now and she must get these men from here, lock up and get to the shed for their arranged tryst.