Chapter 8 #2
Again, he watched her closely and she was surprised that he was attentive.
But he had invited her to confide in him. In this moment, she would.
“There,” she said, pointing to the forest that shadowed the road ahead. “It is there, where the road passes into the darkness of the forest, that the brigands have been inclined to attack. It always concerns me to pass this way, though from Montvieux, there is no other route.”
“And yet my brothers and their followers are otherwise occupied on this day. Surely you may be assured of our safety?”
“It is possible that there is more than one company of brigands.” She hoped there were, given the savagery of some of the attacks. If Amaury’s brothers were responsible for all of them, she might never sleep at Montvieux.
She felt Amaury’s gaze land upon her but did not look his way. “Tell me,” he invited once again.
“Not all of the attacks were simple thefts. There were injuries.” She shuddered, knowing his gaze was fixed upon her.
When she looked up, his lips had tightened to a thin line. “And yet you do not slow your horse, my lady. You do not retreat from the peril.”
“Nay. I would pass through it in haste. I would reach Marnis as soon as possible and know that the portcullis is secure behind us.” She sighed. “Though I fear what may greet us at Marnis, as well.”
Amaury studied her. “My companion Luc oft has premonitions of doom. Many times he warned us of peril before it occurred. Do you possess the same gift, my lady?”
Isabella shook her head. “Nay, not I, but on this day, I cannot evade my sense that all will go awry.”
He nodded. “It is only just noon. The forest should be safe.”
“There have been attacks in daylight of late.”
Amaury’s gaze flicked at these tidings, undoubtedly unwelcome, and his expression became grim.
“I see.” She thought he might argue with her and defend his brothers, but he did not.
“Your desire for haste is not unfair, my lady,” he said.
“And it is not so far to Marnis’ gates that the horses cannot gallop the entire way.
They will be brushed down afterward and fed, and need not be saddled on the morrow.
” He spared her a glance. “What say we coax them to earn their respite?”
Isabella could only nod agreement.
“Stay with me, my lady,” he commanded, then gave a cry.
His destrier leapt forward, vastly increasing his pace, and took the fore.
The palfreys raced behind him and somehow, the squires contrived that she and Caprice were surrounded by them.
She saw a glint ahead and realized that Amaury had pulled a dagger, undoubtedly the one she had returned to him.
She gripped her own beneath the shadows of his cloak.
It was only a small eating knife, but could cut as well as any other good blade.
The shadows closed over them as they entered the patch of darkness, the forest dark on either side of the road.
Isabella felt that her blood turned to ice.
They rode in silence beneath the interlacing boughs of the trees but Amaury did not slow his pace.
Isabella looked from side to side, seeking any hint of the danger, but the forest was still.
As still as a grave.
She clutched the reins and leaned lower, her gaze fixed on the lighter spot ahead where the road emerged from the forest again. They were almost there…
“Hoy!” Amaury shouted and abruptly pulled up his horse. The destrier stomped to a halt, the other horses slowing behind him into an agitated herd. “Something is on the road,” he said tightly before anyone could ask. “Nay, it is someone.”
There was a dark mound ahead, in the middle of the road. It was roughly the size of a man but far too still.
“It could be a feint or a trap,” Isabella had to warn him.
“It could be someone in need of our aid,” Amaury replied, then jumped boldly from the saddle. His blade at the ready, he advanced upon whatever lay in the road, and she watched, fearing her heart would leap from her chest when it hammered with such fear.
But no one jumped to attack Amaury. Instead, he knelt beside the mound and reached toward it before recoiling.
“It is Denis,” he called and Isabella almost leapt down to see the truth for herself. “Nay, my lady. He has been killed. You will ride!” He returned to the company with lightning speed and struck Caprice hard on the rump with his gloved hand.
The mare snorted with indignation, then stamped. She looked as if she would bite the knight for his impertinence, but when Amaury raised his hand again, she ran for Chateau Marnis as if the hounds of hell were behind her.
Isabella barely saw Denis as Caprice raced past him, but she glimpsed the pallor of his face and the pool of blood beneath him. She looked back, only realizing then that two of the squires escorted her, their expressions stony. “But Denis!” she shouted.
She saw Amaury wave, his silhouette dark against the forest shadows. “We will bring him home, my lady,” he called. “I vow it to you.”
Isabella had no choice but to believe him.
Denis dead. It was so shocking that she could scarce believe it. Where were those responsible for his assault?
Would Amaury fall prey to the bandits next?
It seemed an eternity before they reached the chateau gates though it must have been only moments. That obscured bit of road was almost within view of the sentries, but not quite.
The gates were closed.
Isabella shouted, identifying herself and demanding admittance, but there was no response.
“I am Lady Isabella de Marnis, daughter of the Lord de Marnis, and I demand admission!” she bellowed with uncharacteristic fury.
The portcullis creaked as it was finally raised, and one of Amaury’s squires gave a low whistle of admiration that she was undoubtedly not supposed to have heard.
Isabella straightened as Caprice rode through the gates.
The mare came to a stamping halt in the bailey.
She was frothing and outraged, and Isabella walked her in circles before dismounting.
Indeed, she shared the steed’s mood. How dare they keep the gates secured against her?
“You are late, my lady,” the gatekeeper said, disapproval in his tone, arms folded across his chest. “Your father expected you at first light.”
“We have just found my lord Denis on the road, where the forest closes over it. I fear he is dead.”
Gasps echoed amongst the company, followed by whispers that grew in volume. Two squires fled toward the tower, undoubtedly to take the news to Isabella’s father.
“And you left him?” The gatekeeper’s view of her choice was clear. He was impertinent, which was not unusual. What was novel was that Isabella was embarrassed by his manner. She was keenly aware of it, likely because Amaury’s squires both looked appalled.
Isabella sat taller in her saddle. “Amaury de Montvieux bade me ride on to safety. He vowed to bring Denis.”
There was a pause, as if all in the bailey had caught their breath, as if they knew naught of Amaury’s return.
“Where is Edmund?” she asked, for he should have shared the tidings.
“He confers with your father, as is right and proper. Your father was displeased when Lord Denis was compelled to return without his steed last evening, stolen as it was by those fiends at Montvieux. Did you see it there?”
“The horse returns with our company,” Isabella said.
The gatekeeper sniffed. “When you did not arrive this morning, as expected, Lord Denis rode out in search of his lost destrier. Little did we expect you, the daughter of the house, to return with both the villains and the horse. What strange company you keep, my lady.”
It seemed clear that the gatekeeper did not know of her nuptials, which Isabella could not explain as both Denis and Edmund had returned the night before.
All the same, she did not believe she should be required to explain herself to a guard – particularly since she had been following her own father’s edict, as delivered by Denis.
“And who are these?” the gatekeeper demanded.
“They are two of the squires of Amaury de Montvieux who escorted me to safety. You will ensure that their courtesy is returned and that they are greeted as guests of the house.”
The gatekeeper’s scoff was just audible enough to make Isabella’s ears burn. “They are fortunate indeed that we have not cut them down, just for daring to cross the threshold,” he said. “Those of Montvieux are our enemies, my lady.”
She turned a cold stare on the gatekeeper. “Amaury de Montvieux is my lord husband, by my father’s decree,” she said, seeing that man’s shock.
There was silence in the bailey then, a silence that echoed with disapproval. Isabella wondered if she would be cast out the gates for being wed to the son of Montvieux.
Certainly, no one stepped forward to tend Caprice.
The lack of courtesy was startling. That no soul here knew that her father’s will had been done was inexplicable. That none acknowledged that she had fulfilled her father’s edict was confounding. Isabella did not know what to do or say.
Then Amaury’s squires dismounted and bowed to her, one after the other. Philip took Caprice’s reins. “I should be honored to see to your steed’s care, my lady, if you will entrust her to me.”
“Thank you, Philip. I must confer with my father.”
“Of course, my lady. You may call upon Fraser and I for any matter, at any time.”
Gratitude flooded through Isabella. “Thank you both.”
It was curious that her new husband’s squire was the one person in her home who had a care for her.
She dismounted, stroking Caprice’s nose before surrendering the creature to Philip’s care.
She watched as the mare followed the boy meekly, hearing how Philip spoke to the horse.
The other boy led the two palfreys, following Philip to the stables.