Chapter Three #5
More laughing and snorting from the men around them.
Garret’s gaze lingered on the dirty man; he could see that his adversary had at least three distinct daggers on his body, probably more he couldn’t see.
So, this man was well armed. He dared to take his gaze off of the man and glance to his right and to his left, counting seven men now.
He wasn’t fearful for himself, but his concern for the lady grew.
He could take on this group without a problem but he would have to get her out of the way first. His mind, sharp and wise, began to work quickly.
“Where I come from is not your concern,” he replied after a moment. “But since you seem to want something from me, let us get on with it. I will not give it to you, whatever it is, so let us simply move to the next step. If it is a fight you want, then a fight you shall have.”
The dirty man’s eyebrows rose but the smug grin never left his face. “I don’t want a fight.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
The man laughed. Then, he pointed to Lyssa, pulled up against Garret’s torso. “I just want to smell her hair.”
His men burst into lewd laughter, filling the damp night air with their particular brand of filth and fear. Garret, his gaze still focused on the dirty man, leaned over and buried his face in the top of Lyssa’s head.
“When I release you, run into the livery,” he whispered against her skull. “Do not hesitate. Run as fast as you can.”
Lyssa was cradled into the curve of his big torso, never more terrified in her entire life.
Suddenly, she didn’t feel so drunk or so happy.
She was frightened as she’d never been frightened before.
Men evidently intent on doing them harm had converged on them like vermin, something she’d never before faced.
She had no idea what to do or what to say.
But before she could respond to Garret in any way, he made a big show of inhaling deeply – and loudly – and pulled his face from her hair.
“Her scent is only for me,” he told the men. “Now, are there any other demands I will not comply with before we began our deadly dance?”
The dirty man’s smile began to fade. “Why are ye so eager to battle with me? I have made no demands of ye other than to smell the lady’s hair.”
“Contrary to what you must think, I am not as stupid as you evidently believe I am. I know what you want and it is not to smell the lady’s hair. If you are going to attack me, then let’s get on with it. I grow weary of this conversation.”
The dirty man cocked his head as if debating how to handle this very big knight who clearly had no fear of him or of his men.
He scratched his filth-covered hair and opened his mouth to speak when, suddenly, an arrow landed right in front of him.
As he jumped back, another one hit only a couple of feet away.
Garret used the opportunity to shove Lyssa back into the livery as Zayin came charging out, tossing another crossbow to Garret, who quickly grasped it, steadied it, and fired at the men who were now fleeing into the darkness from whence they came.
He could have easily hit them but that would have left him with injured would-be thieves, and he had no desire to deal with that this night.
He simply wanted them to go away. Therefore, the arrows sailed past the men who were running, lodging in the tavern wall across the street.
“Are you injured?” Zayin said, running up beside him. He was looking around, making sure there were no more outlaws waiting to jump out at them. “I am sorry it took so long; the trigger on my crossbow jammed.”
Garret shook his head; his gaze, too, was on the shadows, making sure the outlaws were not about to come running back out at him.
“You came just in time,” he assured him. “But we must return the lady home, quickly. I do not want to chance that those fools return, and in larger numbers.”
With that, they both turned for the livery only to see the old livery keep bending over a supine figure on the ground.
As Garret and Zayin came into the light of the stable, they were both horrified to see that it was Lyssa on the ground, unconscious.
Garret quickly handed his crossbow over to Zayin and knelt at Lyssa’s side.
“What happened?” he asked.
The old livery keep was blind in one eye and nearly deaf, but his mind was still sharp. He barely heard Garret’s question although it had been enough that he deduced what had been asked. He pointed to the doorway of the livery, with a big post just inside the door to support the thatched roof.
“She hit her head, m’lord,” the old man said. “When she fell into the livery, she hit her head on the post. She has not moved since.”
Garret sighed heavily, carefully rolling Lyssa over onto her back.
Gently, he felt her skull, his fingers moving through her careful hairstyle, until he came to a lump on the left side of her head.
He lifted both lids, watching her eyes react to the light, before scooping her up from the dirty floor of the livery.
“I must return her home,” he said, some irony in his voice. “Zayin, get the horses. Quickly, now.”
Zayin was already moving, pulling the big war horses forward. Garret was able to mount his steed while still holding Lyssa, a rather complex trick. But he settled himself in the saddle, holding Lyssa across his thighs as he spurred his horse out into the night.
It wasn’t too terribly far to The Wix and he found himself praying that Lyssa would wake up before they got there.
He wasn’t exactly sure how he could explain her unconscious state to his brother without looking as if he were lying about the situation.
That is exactly what happened, Rickard. I took the lady to a tavern and we were set upon by bandits as we left.
The lady hit her head when I tried to protect her… .
He was there and it didn’t even sound like the truth to him.
His plan to give Lady Lyssa a lovely evening seemed to have ended on a low note.