Chapter Two
Alessandria hadn’t been out of Newington Priory for six years, not since she had been sent there by her father because she had been fairly incorrigible at Orford Castle where she had been fostering.
It wasn’t so much that she had been incorrigible as it was that she and the lord’s wife didn’t get along.
The woman seemed to hold a grudge against Alessandria, being a beautiful girl, because the Lady of Orford’s daughter was plain and homely, with a mean streak in her, and Alessandria and the daughter would get into scrapes constantly.
Alessandria didn’t take kindly to bullying.
But that wasn’t the story that got back to Julius de Shera.
The story he heard was that his daughter was terrible and nasty, and in need of discipline, so without even speaking with her to get the truth behind the complaints, he sent her to Newington Priory where the nuns could see to her discipline.
Julius had hoped a holy beating or two might help his daughter mend her ways.
More than that, he simply didn’t want to be bothered with her.
But quite the opposite happened at Newington Priory – without the constant taunting, Alessandria settled into Newington very nicely.
She was obedient to the nuns because they treated her with surprising respect and she found that priory life suited her well.
She even made new friends there, girls that had been her friends for the past six years.
She considered Newington her home and dreaded the day when her father would send word to either recall her back to The Paladin, her family’s home, or notify her that she had been betrothed to some lord she’d never even heard of.
Either way, Alessandria knew she didn’t want to do either.
She wanted to remain at Newington and become a nun.
They had, in fact, been some of the only people who had ever been kind to her.
Therefore, the appearance of eight hulking knights demanding that she accompany them had come as something of a horrifying shock.
She’d never even really been around men, and especially not for the past several years, and the fact that she found herself on the front of a charger as they raced through the black night was utterly terrifying.
She understood that there was some threat and hazard afoot, from the king no less, but she still wanted to go home.
She didn’t want to go wherever these men were taking her.
Yet, they’d made it clear she had no choice.
They’d swept her from the priory and out into the blackness, so black that she could hardly see a hand before her face.
There were men with torches up ahead, trying to light the path, but it was dangerous going as they tried to keep pace, to stay one step ahead of men they had said were coming for her.
What if, in fact, they were Henry’s men?
What if they had lied to the prioress about everything?
Then she was in a good deal of trouble.
Alessandria came from a long line of powerful men and strong women. She wasn’t a tall girl, or even very big for that matter, but she was strong in both mind and body. She wasn’t afraid to stand up for herself, to defend herself if necessary, as Lady Orford and her stupid daughter had discovered.
Truth be told, she had been shocked and overwhelmed when the knights had come to Newington and she had allowed them to take her without a fight.
Now, that shock was wearing off and she was coming to feel quite threatened by these men.
As they charged through the dark night, she gripped the saddle and struggled not to fall off.
“Where in Canterbury are you taking me?” she yelled to Chad, seated behind her with his big arm wrapped around her waist to keep her from slipping. “I heard you speak of your father?”
Chad’s visor was up as they charged through the night. He couldn’t see very well with it down and he was quite concerned with the night traveling they were doing, for many reasons.
“Be silent,” he commanded sharply. “Your voice carries.”
Alessandria didn’t like the tone of his voice.
He sounded angry and evil. She was starting to think that perhaps she shouldn’t show any resistance, not now when he had seven men and two dozen soldiers at his disposal, men who could easily force her into submission, or worse.
Perhaps it would be foolish of her to do anything other than what she was told, at least for the time being.
But she would never give up hope that there would be an opportunity for her to escape.
So she shut her mouth, holding fast to the galloping horse and praying she wouldn’t fall to her death. If she fell, the horses behind would surely trample her and she wasn’t ready yet to die in any case.
At some point in their harried flight, men in torches broke off from the main body of men and disappeared to the north, taking a smaller road and heading into a thick cluster of what seemed to be trees.
Truth be told, Alessandria couldn’t really tell because it was so dark but she thought she saw the outline of trees against the blanket of stars and she could see the torches flitting in and out of sight, fading away as they went.
After that, the group seemed to ride faster.
There was already a sense of urgency but it seemed to increase.
They moved as fast as they could along the road, which wasn’t very well maintained, and the horses were tripping and struggling on the uneven ground.
One horse even pulled up lame at one point, which wasn’t unexpected, and the rider of the horse, a soldier, was told to remain behind with his horse and seek shelter until the morning.
Another soldier remained with him and they slipped away with the limping horse.
It seemed like an endless journey at this point.
Alessandria had no idea how long they had been traveling because she’d lost all track of time.
It could have been ten minutes; it could have been forever.
It was difficult to gauge. But that sense of uncertainty eased when the moon began to peek up over the horizon and there was a tiny bit of light now for them to see by.
It made all of the difference in the world.
Onward they went, now with more confidence, but it was nearing the dead of night as they reached an enormously swollen body of water. Everything before them seemed to be flooded, the sounds of water swirling in the darkness. Behind her, Alessandra could hear Chad sigh.
“Damnation,” he hissed. “Boughton Creek is overflowing its banks. This is an unexpected bit of nonsense.”
There were knights swarming around him on excited horses. “Is there any way around this?” someone asked.
Chad shook his head. “Nay,” he replied. “We must cross this. There is no other way.”
That seemed to concern the group a great deal. “Then we have no choice,” one very big knight said. He had a crossbow in his right hand, controlling his horse with his left. “You called this creek by name, Chad. How close are we to Canterbury?”
Chad turned to look behind them, concerned with what might be coming up from the rear. “Not far,” he said, returning his focus to the dark water. “Another half an hour at the very most. But we must get across this creek.”
“You seem worried.”
Chad nodded. “This creek comes from the sea,” he said. “It is not far to the north of us. It can be deep in places and the mud is like glue. There is, in fact, another road, but it is fairly far to the south. We may not have the time to….”
“Chad!” Someone shouted his name. “Riders!”
The knights all whirled around, weapons at the ready, seeing two lonely torches approach at a distance.
Since Chad had sent out two riders, he wasn’t particularly concerned with whoever approached, but he was suddenly very concerned when, far in the distance, they began to see more pinpricks of light.
They were very faint, but it was clear that they were moving. He pointed.
“Look,” he said to his men. “Our scouts are being pursued.”
The knights around him began to hiss. The one with the crossbow spoke. “Do we try to go around this watery mess, then?” he asked. “Can we do it in time?”
Chad knew this land. He’d spent many years here as a small boy.
It was marshy land at best because of its proximity to the sea.
“I fear we may get into more trouble if we act in haste,” he said.
“There are swamps about here and if we get stuck in one, we will be finished. Unfortunately, our best option is to cross the swollen creek at this point and pray we can make it. I will go first; follow me in a line and do not stray.”
The knight with the crossbow rallied the others and, soon, they were crossing in a single-file line across the swollen creek.
They were trying to move quickly but not foolishly, so Chad kept a steady pace.
On they went, watching the water and mud rise to the knees of the horses, going deeper and deeper, but still Chad went forward.
The creek usually wasn’t very wide and he, through the darkness, could see dry land on the other side, about a dozen feet away. It gave him something to aim for.
But it would get worse before it got better.
The closer they drew to the opposite shore, however, the more the horses seemed to be sinking.
A couple of the animals towards the back of the line seemed to be panicking a bit and the knights astride them were struggling to keep them under control.
Chad didn’t look back to see how close the pursuing riders were; it didn’t matter much at that point how close they were so he kept his gaze forward, his manner calm, as he directed his horse further and further into the water.