Chapter 8 #3
Noll had been waiting in the village through which the main road passed for three days.
He’d given his name as William, securing a place to sleep and charming anyone who spoke to him out of questioning why he was there.
It was the perfect place to lurk, catching gossip like fish in a net as travellers hurried through.
It was that stream of gossip that had brought him the news that morning as he gnawed on a hunk of bread in the tavern.
The earl’s party was close.
A surprise attack on the whole retinue was far too risky.
He would wait for them to pass then follow behind until they inevitably stopped again.
No one travelled so far and with so many people without several rest stops, and with luck Noll would be able to catch his target away from the rest of his party – either taking a walk or relieving himself.
It was poor form to kill a man while he was pissing, but the thought of that bag of coins spun temptingly in his head. He could not afford to consider form, right now.
After finishing his sparse meal, he hurried from the inn without a word to the innkeeper. All he left behind were a pair of coins on the counter.
He followed the main road a safe distance from the village and settled himself behind a hedge to wait. It did not take long to hear the tell-tale sounds of hoofbeats and chatter.
Noll tugged his cap as low as he could, tucking his gold hair beneath the wool, and pulled up his scarf, obscuring his mouth and nose. There was a chill in the air: at least if anyone questioned why he was dressed so suspiciously, he could claim it was to keep the cold from his face.
He waited a few moments for the retinue to pass on down the road, then scrambled from behind the hedge and followed.
It was easy to keep pace a safe distance behind, and soon – as predicted – the party halted.
Two figures on horseback dismounted and headed down a lesser-trod path into the woods.
Even without seeing his face, it was easy enough to judge by his fine clothes and even finer horse that one of them was the earl.
Noll slid through the trees to follow them.
Keeping away from the path, he approached from behind.
The woman had a hunting bow slung over her shoulder, likely worth more money than Noll would see in half a year.
He felt sorry for her, being tied to the sort of man her family had described.
She was no better than a captive. He knew that feeling.
No doubt his target, too, was armed. He was an earl, after all. There was probably a jewel-encrusted sword beneath that fur-edged cape. Noll crept closer, keeping to the shadows.
The couple had hesitated. Noll was fairly sure they hadn’t heard him, and had just come to a natural standstill in their walk. They were talking to each other, but positioned as he was with his bad ear towards them he couldn’t make out the words.
There was a long moment where nobody moved. And then, finally, they turned away.
Now.
Noll darted from behind a tree, throwing himself forwards and colliding with his victim from behind.
He wrapped his arm around his chest, angling his dagger towards his throat.
The earl writhed in his grip, stronger than Noll had anticipated.
He grabbed Noll’s wrist, twisting his hand.
Pain flared up and down Noll’s arm, twinging through his fingers. He did not drop the blade.
The earl twisted again. Noll’s grip around his chest loosened. The other man pulled himself around, shoving Noll off, turning to face him.
Noll froze. His thundering heart stopped, dropping through the base of his stomach and shattering. Dark eyes. Dark hair. A face of freckles. A sharp jaw. A scar, splitting that jaw in two, twisting over once-familiar lips.
Ash.
Pain burst from the space where his heart should have been.
The moment of hesitation was enough. Before he could move, he was grabbed and pulled backwards to the floor.
Someone – the woman – was shouting, screaming, calling for guards.
Before he could realise what was happening there was a hand yanking back his head, and the unmistakable hardness of steel against his neck.
Damn. The woman was armed beyond the bow.
He tried not to swallow, not to move, not to breathe. Her eyes were glinting and cold. This was not, he realised far too late, the face of a woman being forced or coerced.
He shut his eyes, better to avoid her gaze.
His single, absurd thought was how grateful he was that he’d gifted Pepper the dagger before he’d left. Even if Noll hadn’t managed to say all he’d wanted to say, Pepper would know.
‘My Lady?’ Footsteps. Branches breaking. Swords unsheathing. ‘My Lady! Good God, my Lord—’
The blade was gone. Several people grabbed him, hauling him to his feet, pulling him away.
‘Get him in the cart,’ the woman said. ‘We will take him with us.’
There were guards all around him. Someone had an arm around his throat. He tried to call out, but his mouth was smothered by his scarf. He caught a glimpse of the woman placing a hand on Ash’s shoulder before the guards pulled him away.
They shoved him in the back of a covered cart with such force that the whole thing rocked.
He was a prisoner again. He was trapped. Soon they would bind and gag and blindfold him. They would haul him away. Bile rose up his throat. No, no – not again – I cannot—
He tried to get to his knees to see outside the cart, but there were too many men in the way. A flash of red hair – the woman, talking to another guard.
‘Make sure he does not escape.’
For a moment, there was only silence. And then the cart shifted and a guard appeared, a thick length of rope in his hands.