Chapter Five
She didn’t wait for Ronan.
In fact, Isabeth didn’t wait for anyone.
She most especially didn’t want to wait for Lady de Wolfe.
The woman hadn’t given her a good impression the day before.
Isabeth was feeling weary and anxious and Dyce’s passing left an ache in her chest that she couldn’t seem to overcome.
It pressed against her heart, making it difficult to breathe, and Lady de Wolfe’s presence wasn’t going to help.
It was only going to make it worse.
Therefore, she quickly packed her things, and Dyce’s things, and emerged from the tent to announce that they were departing immediately.
The soldiers were confused by the command but carried out Lady de Brito’s orders.
They superseded any de Wolfe orders. As they were breaking down the large tent and gathering the baggage, Isabeth caught sight of their provisions wagon, the one they’d brought with them from Ravenscar.
She could see a simple pine box secured to it.
That pressure on her chest grew worse at the sight.
Her stomach rolled. Perhaps she hadn’t loved Dyce the way a wife should love a husband, but she had been very fond of the man.
He was someone she’d known more than half her life, more like a brother and a best friend even though he was her husband.
There was an attachment there, though hers was much different than his was.
It was an attachment that would probably never be broken.
In the light of the new day, the reality of his death crashed down on her again.
She still couldn’t accept that he was gone.
It didn’t seem real. As the soldiers raced around her, loading up the wagon, she made her way towards the casket as it lay, still and lonely, upon the wagon bed.
Isabeth went to it, putting her hand on it, fighting back the lump in her throat.
She wanted to get him home.
The escort was ready in less than a half-hour.
Everything had been quickly loaded onto the wagons and everything was secured.
Not wanting to ride the palfrey she had ridden all the way from Ravenscar, Isabeth had the soldiers fashion a place for her in the rear of the wagon where she could sit next to Dyce’s casket.
Making herself comfortable alongside old Gerta, the de Brito escort departed Middlesbrough a couple of hours after sunrise.
They headed east, to the road that led down the coast.
The area was heavily agricultural this close to the sea, with rich soil that had been farmed for centuries.
The Danes, the Angles, and the ancient tribes had all found this land to be quite fertile, growing their grains and vegetables.
Sitting in the rear of the wagon, Isabeth was quite warm with the blankets and hides that the soldiers had used to make her comfortable, and she could smell the salt of the sea.
Overhead, gulls cried and the clouds began to roll in from the east. It wasn’t fog, but perhaps more of a storm or two coming ashore.
The scent of rain was in the air.
Isabeth had been on this road before. Ravenscar was a coastal village, highly dependent upon the fishing trade and rather isolated, so this was the main road that went north into Middlesbrough but also south into Scarborough.
She’d been along it a hundred times in her life, either with her father or with Dyce, and she found it incredibly lonely to be traveling along the rocky, sandy road with Dyce’s casket.
Even though she was surrounded by soldiers and accompanied by her maid, it simply wasn’t the same.
She was still alone. It was indicative of how her life was going to be from this point forward and it was difficult not to feel self-pity along with the confusion.
With Dyce gone to plan every moment of her future, she was going to have to plan it herself.
As the day headed towards noon and they were nearing the village of Easington, the soldiers at the rear of the escort began to take up a cry.
Isabeth’s head popped up, trying to see what had their attention, and she could see a lone rider racing down the road towards them.
The escort began to move aside to allow the rider to pass, but as he drew closer, they could see that it was a knight.
A de Wolfe knight.
And he was riding hard.
Isabeth caught sight of him, too, knowing without even seeing the man’s face that it was Ronan.
It couldn’t be anyone else. The sergeant in charge of the escort asked her if she wanted to stop and, with reluctance, she gave the order.
The escort ground to a halt as the knight thundered up behind them, heading straight for the wagon where Isabeth was just rising to her knees.
From the size of the man, her suspicions of Ronan were confirmed even before he showed his face. As she watched anxiously, he dismounted his warhorse and tethered the animal to the wagon bench before approaching Isabeth.
He held out his hands to her.
“A word, Madam,” he rumbled.
Isabeth didn’t reply. The tone of his voice frightened her so she wasn’t sure what she could say other than she was completely guilty of leaving him behind.
She stood up in the wagon bed, preparing to climb out, but he grasped her around the waist and easily lifted her out.
Then, he tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and forced her to walk several feet away from the big ears of the soldiers.
Only when there was a sufficient distance between them did he come to a halt, lift his visor, and face her.
The dark eyes were rolling with fury.
“I do not know whose bright idea it was to try to escape me, but this will stop here and now,” he said, his voice low.
“Whoever gave the order should know that I do not take attempts to force me to break my word lightly. Not much infuriates me in this world, but dishonor does. I have been made to look dishonorable and I will not tolerate that. Now, who should I speak to about this? Who gave the order to leave Middlesbrough without me?”
Isabeth was looking at him with great fear. “I did,” she confessed. “I did because… because I do not think you should be forced to keep your word to a man who should have never asked such things of you in the first place. I am absolving you of that duty, Sir Ronan.”
“It is not your choice, Lady de Brito.”
There was anger in every syllable, mostly because he was right.
It wasn’t her choice. However, Isabeth had made it her choice and now she had a furious knight on her hands, one who took his promise to Dyce seriously.
Perhaps she hadn’t realized that before as much as she did at this moment. More than anything, she’d offended him.
“Mayhap it is not,” she said, her composure starting to slip.
“But you will forgive me, my lord, when I say that this is my situation. This is my life now and I must do as I feel best. You do not have any bearing on my life from this point forward and I do not need your help. Dyce spent his life trying to protect me and treating me like a fragile little thing, and that is something you and I have discussed. But in his last moments, he did not have the right to ask you to assume his responsibility when he was gone. He was my husband and you are not. If I do not want your assistance, it is within my right to refuse you.”
She was trembling by the time she was finished, her eyes filling with tears.
Ronan could see that he’d upset her, but the truth was that he was upset, too.
He’d just spent the past three hours riding like the devil to catch up to the escort that he was supposed to be in charge of, so Isabeth’s attitude wasn’t unexpected.
He knew she was resistant to his presence.
Perhaps he thought he could assert himself and she would acquiesce.
But she didn’t seem to want to.
At that point, he did the only thing he could do – he backed down.
“It is,” he said quietly. “But I wish you would not. I very much want to help you, my lady. Dyce was my dear friend and I feel as if I would be wronging him greatly if I simply let you go about your life without my help. I would worry over you.”
Isabeth sniffled. “I am not trying to be difficult, my lord, truly,” she said. “But I simply want to go home and I do not want to be inconsiderate to people I hardly know simply because my husband asked you to watch over me. I do not need watching over. I simply wish to go home and stay there.”
The storm clouds that were gathering overhead began to let loose with fat droplets of water.
One hit Ronan in the cheek and he looked up, seeing that the rain was indeed coming.
Frustrated with the situation and knowing it wouldn’t be resolved in the next minute or so, he looked around, noting there was a village up ahead, one he’d stayed in before when he’d come south.
He knew there was an inn there, a small one, and it would fill up in this weather if it hadn’t already.
“You’ll not be home tonight,” he said, taking Isabeth by the elbow and turning her back towards the wagon. “There is an inn in town. We’ll stay there tonight. It will give my escort a chance to catch up to us.”
Isabeth let him lead her to the wagon. “Your escort?” she said. “You have more men coming?”
Ronan nodded. “More men and my wife,” he said. “I believe Marian would like to be of some help to you during this time. If you have other friends or family you would like me to send for, I will do that, but until then, Lady de Wolfe and I are glad to be of some comfort.”
Isabeth thought about Marian de Wolfe and the mere thought of the woman made her stomach churn. “Although I appreciate your intentions, I do not need your comfort,” she said. “I have my maid with me. She is comfort enough.”
Ronan lifted an eyebrow. “Having a maid is not the same as having the company of a woman of your station.”