Chapter Ten #2
Unfortunately, horseback travel wasn’t particularly exciting for a three-year-old.
Less than an hour after Cortez put her on General’s back, Sophie was growing restless.
Diamantha tried to distract her daughter with butterfly or bird sightings, and that worked for a while, but then the little girl would grow restless again and ask for something to eat.
She seemed to be growing increasingly restless until one of Cortez’s soldiers came to the rescue.
Luckily, the quartermaster was nearby and, having two young boys of his own, understood how to handle a small child.
He presented Sophie with a small bag of dried apples, which she happily ate.
She wanted the quartermaster to give General some, and the man did.
The pony ate them eagerly. All the while, the quartermaster walked next to Sophie and listened to the little girl’s chatter.
Sophie seemed to like to chat with any man that would listen to her, as she had with Merlin on their trip from Corfe, and Diamantha knew it was because Sophie had been used to having her father and grandfather around.
It gave the little girl comfort to have a man to talk to, a man who reminded her of her father. It was a bittersweet thing to watch.
The day continued on and they stopped briefly for a meal around mid-day.
The party paused by a rather large stream that fed into a crystalline lake, and as Diamantha stretched her legs, Sophie played contentedly with her cage of baby animals.
Cortez lingered near them both, vigilantly watching over their personal safety, as his knights checked on the men, and inspected the soundness of all of the animals, before finally settling down to wolf down a quick meal.
Diamantha watched how Cortez was with his knights.
The man had a calm manner about him in both command and service, and it was clear how much his men respected him.
As she sat back against a tree with the remnants of a nooning meal spread out next to her, she found herself watching Cortez as he interacted with his men, seeing flashes of humor or bouts with seriousness as they engaged in conversation.
At one point, Sir Drake even provoked loud laughter, which was charming to see.
The more Diamantha watched Cortez, the more charming she found him.
Aye, that rude and aggressive man who had come to Corfe to claim her was changing before her eyes and she didn’t mind one bit.
She was even coming to like it. But that was her last pleasant thought before a grimy hand went over her mouth.
Startled, Diamantha yanked away from the hands that were grabbing her from behind the tree, screaming as loud as she could.
Cortez and his men bolted, running in her direction, as the copse of trees behind her came alive with men wielding studded clubs.
As they ran towards the knights, Diamantha managed to escape the hands that were clutching at her and ran straight for her daughter.
Fortunately, Sophie was just a few feet away and she grabbed the girl, and her cage of baby animals, and made haste for the wagons upon the road.
The quartermaster, being an older man who didn’t involve himself much in fighting unless absolutely necessary, bolted from his wagons and rushed forward to help her.
As men with weapons began to clash violently near the tree line, the quartermaster took the cage of animals from Diamantha, grabbed her by the elbow, and helped her up to the road where the wagons were.
As Diamantha and Sophie sought shelter in the wagon, the quartermaster grabbed a sword he usually kept hidden for events just like this one.
He stood next to the wagon, next to Diamantha and Sophie, with the sword in a defensive position as he watched the battle in the distance. And what a battle it was.
Dornauld followed us. It didn’t take a genius to figure that out.
Cortez knew it the instant he heard Diamantha scream and saw men with clubs emerging from the trees.
Unfortunately, the shifty sheriff had delivered on one of his promises.
He had brought at least a hundred men with him, men who were armed with those spiked clubs, and although Cortez and his men had very sharp and serious weapons, he knew they would be overwhelmed by sheer number.
But it wasn’t in his nature to run. Cortez knew he had to beat Dornauld once and for all if they were ever going to have any peace.
Therefore, he aimed for the sheriff as the man sat just inside the trees astride a fat white horse.
But he didn’t make a move before shouting to the soldier nearest him.
“Go back to the wagons and tell Bean to get the wagons moving,” he said. “Tell him to get the lady and her daughter out of here and head to Warminster. We will catch up once we’ve taken care of this fool and his men. And you go with them!”
The soldier nodded sharply and was gone, running at top speed back to the wagons. When Cortez was certain the wagons were starting to move, thus removing them from danger, he turned back for Dornauld.
Cortez had to fight his way through groups of battling men as he made his way towards the man on the round white horse.
Around him, his knights were making short work of Dornauld’s less-experienced men, cutting off limbs and heads with skill and ease.
Very shortly, the battle had turned into a blood bath, and all of it spilled by Dornauld’s men.
Cortez was growing more furious with each successive step that the fool sheriff was bold enough to attack them on the road.
Damn the idiot! He intended to make the man pay.
As Cortez drew near the trees, he ducked back into the tree line, using it for camouflage.
He didn’t want to give Dornauld an open shot at him.
Using foliage and tree trunks as shields to hide him as he moved, he made his way very quietly to Dornauld, who had limited vision since his sight had been damaged the night before by one of his own men’s clubs.
In fact, most of the top of his head was wrapped up, including his right eye.
Since Cortez came up on the man’s right side, Dornauld never stood a chance.
Using the small, razor-sharp dagger he always carried on his body, Cortez plunged it into Dornauld’s back and yanked the man off his horse in the same smooth motion.
As Dornauld screamed, Cortez withdrew the knife and used it to slit the man’s throat.
As Dornauld lay there, drowning in his own blood, Cortez stood over him.
“Let that be a lesson to all who threaten me,” he growled. “I hope you rot in hell, you whoreson.”
Dornauld’s wide-eyed, terrified expression glazed over and Cortez knew that he was dead. Without another glance to the corpse, he leapt onto the fat, very expensive white courser and spurred the animal out of the trees and into the skirmish beyond.
“Your leader is dead!” he bellowed as he went. “Drop your weapons and flee, and I may show mercy. Keep fighting and I will kill you all!”
Dornauld’s men, seeing Cortez astride the sheriff’s horse, quickly realized that what the man said must have been true.
Dornauld was fanatical about the horse and would not have willingly relinquished it.
Death was the only answer to such a thing.
Therefore, they began dropping their clubs and running for the woods where Dornauld’s body lay.
Some men ran without dropping their clubs, but Cortez didn’t particularly care.
They were running away and that was all that mattered to him.
He watched the gang of them disappear into the trees.
“My lord?”
Cortez turned to the source of the question, seeing James standing there. The young knight was somewhat winded but unharmed.
“Was anyone badly hurt?” he asked de Lohr.
James shook his head. “Nay, my lord,” he replied. “There seem to be a few with puncture wounds from those clubs, but nothing that will not heal.”
Cortez nodded, satisfied. “Then get the men moving,” he said. “We must catch up to the wagons, which surely could not have gotten far with the condition of this road.”
James nodded in agreement. “Should I send a few men after that rabble to make sure they do not come after us again?”
Cortez was forced to agree with that possibility.
“Aye,” he said. “I did not think that the sheriff was stupid enough to follow us after last night, but now with the man dead, we must discourage his followers from seeking vengeance. Send ten men to follow with orders to observe the group and then catch up to us in Warminster tonight with a report.”
James saluted smartly and was gone. Cortez made his way back up to the road, taking a moment to inspect his latest acquisition.
The fat courser was a beauty, healthy and strong, and he was quite a specimen.
Cortez considered the prize almost to be worth the trouble.
Almost… but not quite. He made a mental note to stop in Shaftesbury once they had returned from retrieving Rob Edlington’s body just to make sure Dornauld’s men were behaving themselves.
Hatred and evil like that was not easily quelled.
They caught up to the quartermaster and the wagons less than a half hour later, stuck deep in road rut.