Chapter 19
Kallen held tightly onto the reins as the horse galloped down the road. She wished the morning sun could dispel the dark thoughts that ran through her mind. Over and over again, she relived plunging the dagger into her kidnapper’s neck. She could not clear the picture from her mind.
The blood, too, still bothered her. Its tinny smell caused her empty stomach to gurgle uncomfortably. She thought she might be sick and decided to find water to rinse off.
She rode for a quarter-hour in discomfort until she thought she heard running water. She slowed the horse and listened. To her left came a sound that must be a brook. She climbed from Sir Rodger’s horse and led him into a grouping of oak trees. The noise grew louder as she approached.
Kallen tied the horse to a low bush and ran to the water. Before she reached it, her stomach lurched, and she was sick. She bent over and closed her eyes, wishing all thoughts of Sir Rodger and her guilt to vanish.
She finally stood and walked on shaky legs to the water.
She plunged her hands into the clear stream and rinsed her face and mouth before she scrubbed at her throat and bodice with the cold water.
She managed to cleanse the blood from her skin, but her surcoat was ruined.
A large stain remained, a reminder of her transgression.
Kallen wrapped her cloak about her. It was dark in color and had been trapped under her when Rodger lay atop her, so it escaped being drenched. She would keep it close around her to hide what blood she could not wash from her clothes.
She sat, exhausted, wondering how she would find Griffith. Her frustration turned to tears that cascaded down her cheeks. She cried at her loss of innocence. For Sir Rodger’s death. For being lost and alone.
Less than a sennight ago, she lived a quiet life in a holy convent.
Her greatest sins revolved around speaking out of turn or complaining if others shirked their duty.
Now a man lay dead, and her penance would be great.
She had broken one of the most important of God’s laws.
She might never gain entrance into Heaven.
She brushed the tears from her cheeks, determined to carry on. No obstacle would be too great to keep her from Griffith or from meeting her family. She must put aside such childlike behavior and take action.
Kallen headed back to where she’d left the horse when she heard riders approaching on the nearby road. She froze. Would they pass or stop to water their horses? Did she have time to reach her own mount? Should she hide?
The decision was made for her as she glimpsed sight of them entering the copse. She lifted her skirts and ran to a fat tree trunk, squatting behind it as two men entered the area.
“Sweet Jesu but I need a drink.”
A man hurried to the stream and dipped his hands into the water. Kallen heard a loud slurping.
“Better ale, if ye ask me,” a second echoed before he also bent and drank.
Kallen studied them from her hiding place. They were rough looking, dressed very meanly, with unshaven faces and an element of danger about them.
“’Twas a good haul.” One stood and wiped the back of his hand across his dripping chin. “Better ‘n raiding hawkers along the roadside to London.”
The second man ran his fingers through greasy hair. “Nay, them hawkers only have pig bones, corpse’s teeth, and stray pieces of wood. How many o’ them have true relics?”
The first grinned. “Not like us, bloody likely. These be the originals. I’d bet my soul on it. They have to be, as tight as that old arse held onto them.” He snickered. “Before we parted him from his treasures.”
“Do ye think they’re authentic enough to toss into the fire? We could test if they truly be real. ‘Tis the Church that says real relics’ll survive fire.”
The other man laughed. “I’m not that much of a fool, Rufus. They should make the bishop happy. He’ll pay if’n he’s happy. Let him be the one to test them by fire.”
The one called Rufus emptied his purse and held up two necklaces and what Kallen thought might be a ring.
“The best relics are always protected in small reliquaries like these. And when the bishop has ‘em, it’ll guarantee his church the biggest number o’ pilgrims.”
“And all the profits that go with ‘em,” the other cackled.
Kallen was appalled at their irreverence. The convent she’d been raised in had both a relic of St. Paul’s finger bone and one of St. Peter’s teeth. It was her small link to the Christ. But these men spoke as if relics were for sale everywhere and not all of them authentic.
Did fakes abound in the outside world? Her faith was already badly shaken by her actions with Sir Rodger. She refused it to be jostled further. ‘Twas bad enough Griffith questioned God’s very existence though she might have, as well, had she suffered a loss as deeply as his.
“By God’s teeth, Rufus, over there. Do ye see it, the horse?”
They’d noticed Rodger’s horse. Kallen’s heart pounded furiously. Should she stay where she was? Try to move as they walked toward the horse? She saw no place in which to cross the stream, and she had no idea how deeply it ran. She feared wandering farther into the forest and getting lost.
Her only course was to go horizontally with the road. While the horse distracted the men’s attention, she would move farther out of sight and then make her way back toward the thoroughfare. They need never see her.
Kallen crept from her hiding place, the voices too far away now for her to catch what was said. She kept low to the ground, praying she would not be seen.
“What’s that?”
Fear rippled through her. They’d spotted her. She took off running, pushing through the dark wood, her hands shoving away the low greenery as she made her way.
“’Tis a woman! Catch her!”
A loud thrashing followed closely behind her.
Kallen knew the men would soon be upon her.
Instinctively, she reached into her pocket and grasped the baselard.
If these men debased sacred relics of the Church, they would place little value on her life.
She had nothing to give them to entreat them to leave her alone.
She would have to fight.
A calm descended upon her, even as she ran. God was with her. If He chose to call her home soon, so be it. She would go knowing she had a family who’d wanted her and having known the kiss of a good man. She was ready to meet her Maker.
But only after she made her stand.
Kallen reached the road. She glanced frantically to her left and right. No one was in sight. She had nowhere to run. Nowhere left in which to hide. She turned back and faced the woods.
Immediately, the one called Rufus and his companion rushed out. They halted in their tracks when they spied her.
“Ah, a lady,” Rufus said. A wolfish grin appeared on his homely face. He brushed strands of unkempt hair back from his forehead. “Me and Billy ain’t never had no real lady before.” He smacked his lips as if readying to eat a delicacy.
As before, when Sir Rodger’s eyes gleamed in such a fashion and his tone made her go cold inside, Kallen knew these two would be up to no good. She knew not exactly what, but evil abounded in what Rufus planned.
“Stand back!” Kallen cried. She raised the dagger before her. “I’ve killed once. I’ll do it again.”
The two men looked at each other and burst out into laughter. Her courage began to falter, replaced by a dread of indescribable magnitude.
“She’s killed a man,” Rufus said in a singsong voice. He took a step toward her. “And I’ll wager she aims to kill me.”
Kallen’s hand shook in front of her. She gripped the hilt until her knuckles went white. As Rufus drew even closer, she slashed the dagger through the air.
“Ah, she’s a quick ‘un, Billy Boy. I may need yer help.”
Billy slowly ventured toward Kallen. She locked her knees, which threatened to buckle under her. Rufus took another step in her direction, and Kallen lashed out again.
“Damnation, she sliced me!” he cried.
Kallen saw the murderous look in his eye. She waved the dagger again, but he grabbed her wrist and twisted it. She cried out in pain and dropped the knife. Billy swept it up.
Rufus pushed her to her knees, his hand still locked around her wrist. Kallen tore at it with her free hand, but the criminal only cackled.
“She’s got dash, this ‘un,” Rufus proclaimed. “Dippin’ me tarse in her will be quite a treat.”
He then backhanded Kallen so hard, she went limp. The world went dark for a moment before a thousand stars danced before her eyes. She felt her body crumbling to the ground. Small stones in the road dug into her back, through her cloak and surcoat. The pain brought her back around.
Kallen saw Rufus now hovered over her. He’d pinned her arms to the ground, so she began to buck violently, trying to keep him off her.
“Like a wild woman, she is.” Rufus lowered his weight onto her. His girth was so great that she couldn’t budge him. His unwashed body so close to her made her gag with dry heaves.
“God, make him stop!” Her thoughts became her words.
The men laughed. “Now, me lady, God’s just granted me an answered prayer. Be a sweet girl for now, and then I’ll see He grants yours, too.”
Rufus then plunged his tongue into her mouth.
Repulsion filled her. He was kissing her, but this was nothing like Griffith’s touch.
What she had done with Griffith seemed heavenly.
This seemed obscene. His hand roughly squeezed her breast. Pain shot through Kallen.
He began to push up her skirts. Strong fingers tried to force her legs apart.
Kallen held them together until her thighs ached.
She could take no more. She would rather die than be subjected to such degradation. She turned her head, trying to catch her breath. As Rufus pushed her face back toward him, Kallen latched onto his ear.
And bit down as hard as she could.
Rufus’s scream erupted as he scrambled off her. She thought it loud enough to be heard all the way to London. Kallen jumped up and took off running down the road.
“I’ll rip your nether lips out, whore!” screamed Rufus.
Kallen ran, her cloak streaming behind her. She sensed at least one of the men gaining on her. Her lungs began to burn as if they’d caught fire, and still she ran.
Then she heard horses in the distance.
Sweet Jesu, let it be Griffith. Oh, Lord, please be Griffith.