Chapter Twenty
The first arrow hit Donnell in the ribs, sending the man crashing to the ground. Riding behind him on a small gray mare, Emberley and Romney shrieked as more arrows began to fly out of the trees, hitting four more soldiers and sending them to the ground.
The remaining eight soldiers unsheathed their weapons and began shouting, somewhat disoriented because Donnell, their leader, had been struck down and was incapable of delivering orders.
The men of the escort party tried to form a perimeter but more arrows flew out of the dark trees and struck down two more.
The men began screaming to each other and the horses, startled, began to scatter. Panic enveloped the group and the little gray mare bolted off in spite of Romney’s attempts to rein it to a halt.
Emberley, seated behind her son on the mare, was tossed off in the ensuing confusion but oddly enough, ended up on her feet.
She had literally jumped from the little horse when it bucked and now stood on the muddy, dark road, watching the men around her scatter.
Arrows zinged overhead, hitting two more men and she shrieked, squatting down on the road and covering her head with her hands.
She had no idea where the arrows were coming from and therefore had no idea where to run.
So she stayed put, arms over her head, and called to her son.
“Romney!” she cried. “Come back! Come…!”
Another arrow zinged over her head and she screamed again, ducking down low and trying to roll herself into a ball.
Then a wave of horses roared in from the south, shielded by the dark trees.
She couldn’t see who they were but suddenly, one of them came to an abrupt halt beside her and mud flew up in her face.
Sputtering, she tried to stand up and run, but strong arms went around her.
“Kitten, are you all right?”
She recognized the voice. Startled, breathless, her enormous eyes struggled to see the face in the darkness, a face she had never imagined she would see again.
Her avenging angel had arrived, the archangel Gabriel, and the hosts of heaven were with him as they went about systematically smiting Julian’s evil escort.
With a cry, Emberley threw her arms around Gart’s neck and began weeping hysterically.
“Gart,” she sobbed. “It is you!”
Gart held her tightly, watching his men race off after the remainder of de Moyon’s escort. He could hardly speak for the lump in his throat, holding Emberley so tightly that he was surely crushing her.
“Aye, kitten, it is me,” he murmured, joyously kissing her cheeks and bumping her with his helm. “Are you well? You have not been injured, have you?”
She shook her head earnestly, and then began to look around frantically. “Romney!” she gasped. “The horse ran off and…!”
“He is well, my lady,” de Lara suddenly appeared, walking towards her in the darkness and leading a small gray mare. “I caught him before he could get too far.”
Romney, spying Gart, leapt off the horse and ran to the man, throwing his arms around his legs.
Gart reached down and picked the little boy up, hugging him tightly even as he held Emberley.
He realized, even as he held them in his arms, that he was shaking uncontrollably with relief and happiness.
He could hardly believe he had them, alive and warm.
They were safe and unharmed. He kissed Romney on the cheek before returning his focus to Emberley.
“Tell me truthfully,” he put his enormous hand on her face and forced her to look up at him. “Did they treat you well? Are you…?”
She cut him off. “They treated us as well as they could,” she replied. “They made sure we were fed and as comfortable as possible. Romney and I are fine. Romney has been very brave.”
Gart gazed into her eyes, haunting things in the shadows of the moonlight, reacquainting himself with her beautiful face. He’d missed her desperately. Then he noticed the gash on her neck and the dark stains around the top of her surcoat. His expression darkened.
“What happened to your neck?” he asked through clenched teeth. “What did they do to you?”
It had been five days since the gash and she’d nearly forgotten about it, as it was healing nicely. Her hands flew to her neck, her fingers flitting nervously over the scab.
“It is nothing,” she assured him. “It is healing very well.”
“Who did it?”
“I did it.”
His brow furrowed. “You did it? Emberley, if you think I….”
She cut him off, her arms around his waist and her head against his armored chest. “Please,” she begged softly. “No harsh words between us. We have not seen each other in weeks. I do not want our first words to be those of anger.”
With a heavy sigh, Gart pulled her back into a tight embrace. He didn’t believe her about the gash but in hindsight, it really didn’t matter. She was healing and healthy. That was all he cared about.
“The rest of the children are still at Trelystan, correct?” Gart asked softly.
Her head was against his chest and she nodded. “They are,” she looked back up at him again. “How did you know we had been taken?”
Gart could see his men coming back through the trees. “Lord de Lara sent a messenger,” he replied. “We barely had time to intercept your escort. Thank God we anticipated the road they would take and were here to meet them.”
Gart’s men began returning from the chase, swarming around them as de Lara turned the gray mare loose, smacking it on the rump so it would run off. Gart pulled Emberley tightly against him so she wouldn’t be bumped by the excited horses, moving aside when they came too close.
“Are they all dead?” Gart asked his soldiers.
One man nodded. “Aye, m’lord,” he replied. “We killed every one of them.”
“Make sure these men lying on the road are dead also,” he instructed. “We will leave no survivors to tell de Moyon of the attack.”
“Aye, m’lord.”
“Make it look like bandits if you can, sloppy.”
“Aye, m’lord.”
As Gart’s men went to the men on the road and began slitting throats for good measure, Gart gathered Emberley by the hand.
“Come along, my lady,” he said quietly. “We must get you and your son to safety.”
Emberley watched Gart’s soldiers ensure the death of the de Moyon escort. There was some disgust and trepidation in her expression as she realized what they were doing.
“Why are your men doing that?” she wanted to know. “Why are they defiling the dead like that?”
Gart put his arm around her, trying to shield her from the sight as he led her back to his charger. “Because we cannot leave any witnesses,” he told her. “Julian must not know where you are or who has you.”
She gazed up at him. “But he will see your arrows,” she said. “I am not a warrior but even I know that each army’s arrows are distinctive. Since he is allied with de Lohr, will he not know de Lohr arrows?”
Gart handed over Romney to Kevin as they reached the horses. “We did not use distinctive arrows,” he told her. “We used arrows that David had stored in his armory, arrows confiscated off the Welsh.”
She eyed him as he lifted her onto his saddle. “Julian will have no way of knowing where we are?”
“Nay.”
“But what about my babies?”
“I will send Kevin for them immediately.”
Emberley fell into contemplative silence as Gart mounted behind her, relishing the feel of his arms around her, his lips on her ear as he spurred the charger back into the darkness.
She felt safe again, so very safe and happy to be with him, but fearful of the future.
Even though Gart had saved her from joining Julian in London, it did not eliminate the problem.
They still had the same concerns and issues. She was still very apprehensive.
Settling back against Gart as they rode through the night, Emberley’s apprehension did not abate. As the lights of Bellham Place came into view, the anxiety only grew worse.
*
Lady Emilie de Lohr was as sweet as she could be. She wholly embraced Emberley upon her arrive to Bellham and immediately whisked the lady and her son to a chamber where they could bathe and rest.
The warmth and charm of Bellham welcomed the weary woman and her equally exhausted child, and Emberley was introduced to the Earl of Hereford. David greeted her fondly and she responded in kind, remembering the baron from his visit to Dunster.
After the introductions were finished and Lady Emilie appeared, Emberley panicked when she realized that she would be separated from Gart, but Gart had gently assured her that he would not be far if she needed him.
As Gart went with David and Christopher behind closed doors, Emberley and Romney followed Emilie up the stairs.
Bellham was a truly luxurious place with big, spacious rooms and comfortable beds. With Romney in the next room being tended to by a pair of servants, Emilie tended Emberley personally. She helped the lady strip off her bloodied, dirty clothes and climb into a massive copper tub of steaming water.
With the help of a few young maid servants, Emilie proceeded to wash Emberley from head to toe, using valuable and expensive products on her hair and skin.
The heady scent of lilac filled the room as Emberley relaxed in the tub, scrubbed and soaped and scraped.
She felt better than she had in days, listening to Romney in the next room as he argued with the old female servant about not wanting to get out of the tub.
But along with her son’s voice, she could hear others.
The chamber they were in was directly above the solar and through the floor she could hear raised male voices. Mostly, she could hear David’s voice as if responding to something he didn’t much like.