Chapter 16
Kallen gripped the dagger tightly in her hand and watched the attack unfold before her. Despite her inexperience, she knew the assault was well planned. These were no ordinary robbers roaming the countryside in search of victims.
She knew instinctively they came for her.
Sir Rodger moved in front of her, his thrusting sword before him. “Stay there, my lady. I must know where you are if I’m to protect you.”
She nodded, fear numbing her as the sound of clanging swords came closer.
“Walmouth Woods,” she croaked out.
Sir Rodger turned with a quick glance. “Walmouth, you say?”
“Yes. ‘Tis where Griffith said to meet if we somehow became separated.”
Rodger turned away from her, his body tense as he stared out in the night.
Kallen saw a mace swinging high overhead and heard the dull thud when it struck its intended victim. Another man charged into a second with a long pike. The groans came closer, as did the scattered curses.
A pair of struggling men stumbled into the firelight surrounding the camp. Kallen saw bulging muscles and glistening sweat. She smelled fear and blood on both men.
A noise from her right caused her to turn. Griffith, the bands about him now a dark purple, displayed a warlike aggression as he fought with his enemy. Both hands entwined about his sword’s long hilt, he struck blow after blow, forcing the man back.
“We’re outnumbered,” her assigned protector said. “Hasn’t stopped Griffith before, but he would have me see you to safety.”
Kallen pried her eyes away from Griffith, reluctant to leave with Rodger even though his words made sense.
It was there again. Stronger than before.
Kallen shrank back against the tree’s broad base. She couldn’t go with this man. Her initial reaction to him days earlier was correct. She didn’t understand how he’d cloaked his true nature since then, but his aura now shone black as night. He was the last person she could trust.
“Now, my lady,” the knight hissed. “You must come with me.”
“I can’t leave Griffith,” Kallen stammered, no reasonable excuse coming to mind.
“Trust me, Sir Griffith expects me to extract you before ‘tis too late.”
Every fiber of Kallen’s body screamed out its aversion as Sir Rodger grabbed her forearm and yanked her to her feet.
“Hurry. To the horses, or your reluctance may get us killed.”
The knight dragged her along as Kallen stumbled in the dark behind him.
She longed to thrust the baselard into his arm and run, but she had not the courage.
Her dull, uneventful life had not prepared her for such an action even while her mind screamed at her ‘twould be a sin to attack another in hatred.
They reached the tethered horses, and he quickly untied his own.
Kallen slipped the dagger into her pocket, hoping she might dare to use it later.
Before she could protest further, Sir Rodger was atop his horse and had brought her up before him.
He kicked the horse’s side, and they took off at breakneck speed into the night.
“Walmouth Woods,” Kallen repeated. “You know this place?”
Rodger’s teeth gleamed a brilliant white in the moonlight. “Yes, my lady. I’m familiar with the rendezvous point. Sir Griffith knows that. He would not have instructed otherwise. Stay calm,” he commanded. “I will have you where you’re supposed to be before you know it.”
His words did not comfort her. Nor did the bands of green that began to sprout about him. They could mean many things—jealousy, greed, an affinity with nature, even ambition.
Kallen hoped she would not be around Sir Rodger long enough to discern what they meant.
Griffith pushed his bastard sword into the man on the ground before him. The man grasped the blade as if to try and remove it. Slowly, his hands fell away as the life ebbed from him.
Griffith yanked the sword out and turned in a circle, gazing in all directions for more of the enemy. They seemed to be in retreat.
His mind swirled. These were no highwaymen that had attacked for jewels or money. Instead, his gut told him they had come for Kallen. But why? No one knew she was coming to Mangeron beyond Crispin, Deva, and Alita.
Of course, servants eventually learned everything a family knew. If so, was one a spy? Who would profit from holding Kallen hostage before she reached Mangeron?
Griffith had no proof, but he ventured to guess that the Earl of Nowland was behind the attack on the camp.
Kallen was, after all, his daughter. Had Quentin somehow learned of her existence?
Even so, why would he want her? It wasn’t as if she were a legitimate offspring that he could bargain off in the marriage trade.
And with Quentin, everything boiled down to money or power.
Thank goodness, Rodger spirited her away during the worst moments. She would be safely to the southwest, not more than a couple of hours ride away, in Walmouth Woods.
Something still troubled him, though. Even as his men began to return and re-group, lingering doubts hung over him.
“Anyone left alive?” he asked those assembled as he jammed his sword into the ground. He quickly counted and saw all five of his men before him, some bleeding, but none worse for the wear.
“One,” John called out. “He’s over there. Bawling like a babe, he is. Couldn’t believe his mates left him. Do you want him, my lord?”
“Yes. Drag him over. I have a few questions for him.”
Two men quickly did his bidding. Soon, the injured man lay before Griffith.
“I care not for your name. What I want ‘tis your purpose. Why did you attack this particular camp?”
The soldier gave him a surly look. “Rot in Hell.” He spat at Griffith’s boots.
He bent and grasped the man’s hair and jerked him to his feet. “I shall send you there directly if I don’t get an answer to my question.”
The man struggled a minute before he realized Griffith would not be letting go.
“All right. I’ll talk. Don’t owe him nothin’ anyway. He’s bad about paying and cheap when he does.”
“The Earl of Nowland.”
The man started in surprise. “How’d you know?”
Griffith shrugged and released his grip. “Just tell me why.”
“All I knows is ‘tis the girl he wants. He didn’t share with us why. He said he needed her brought back in one piece, and we weren’t to lay a hand on her otherwise.”
Griffith contained the anger that threatened to bubble over. “Bind his leg wound and tie him to his horse. He’ll return with us to Mangeron. I’m sure Lord de Mangeron will have an idea what to do with him.”
The prisoner snorted. “You think taking me to Mangeron’s more important than retrieving the girl? She’s halfway to Nowland’s arms by now.”
Griffith’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you say this? One of my men—”
“Hah! One of your men. You are a bit of an arse, my lord.”
His heart stopped. An icy sweat broke out across the back of his neck. He stared hard at the man.
“Talk fast... if you want to live.”
The man began to tremble. “I saw her. I saw her leave. With Sir Rodger.”
Griffith immediately thought back to Kallen’s warning. How she hadn’t trusted Rodger from the very beginning.
And how he’d dismissed her notions.
Griffith spoke with a calm he no longer felt. “You claim Sir Rodger is a spy for Lord Nowland. A traitor?”
The man shrugged. “Don’t know exactly what he is, just that I seen him from time to time with Lord Nowland, their heads together. Up to no good, I’d guess. Sir Rodger’s bound to have recognized the earl’s men since he’s around often enough. He’s a smart one. He’d know ‘twas the girl we was after.”
Griffith grew nauseated. Rodger’s betrayal sickened him. Here was a man he’d known for a good many years, a strong, reliable soldier, one he’d fought beside on the battlefield. To know the knight was a spy from Quentin’s camp only added to the disloyalty.
But more than that, Griffith was upset that he hadn’t shown any faith in Kallen.
He didn’t know what it was about her, but she was different from others.
She’d instantly known Rodger for the Judas he was, just as she’d known her mare’s name without being told and had been able to see the number of their attackers in the dark of night.
He must find her before she fell into the earl’s hands. He must reassure her that he did believe in her.
Because Griffith now realized he believed in them being together.
“We have no time to deal with him. Tie him to a tree.” Griffith turned to leave.
“But I’ll bleed to death!” the man cried.
Griffith yanked his sword from the ground and held the tip to the man’s chest. “Would you rather die instantly?”
The man’s head bobbed back and forth fiercely. “No, no, I’ll take my chances with that tree, my lord.”
Griffith sheathed his sword. “Come,” he told those gathered around him. “We ride to save Lady Kallen.”
And to save my soul.