Chapter 20 #3
None of them had smelled pleasant before, he could attest, but now they reeked of dead fish, rotted onions, and other unmentionables as well.
As he moved the group carefully toward the wooded area a hundred paces away, he tightened his jaw, more grateful than he had ever been for the fresh, outdoor air.
They traveled on foot for another quarter hour through the cover of the trees, and Damien was just turning to murmur his next command when he heard a crackle of branches.
In the dimmed light of a cloud-covered crescent moon, he made out the slowly approaching forms of what appeared to be several men, coming through the trees toward them. Mounted men.
This close to Grantley, and so comfortable traveling at night, they could only be Hugh’s guard.
Biting back a curse, Damien stiffened. He gazed around blindly for something he could use to perhaps knock one of these soldiers from his steed.
If he called attention to himself, at least one of them might charge him, and he could take the man’s sword if he toppled him.
With a weapon he’d have a chance at least—not much, but a chance nonetheless—to fend off the others so that his weakened brethren and Bernard could flee.
Twisting back to the men behind him, he murmured, “Move slowly away from me, divide up, and then run when I attract their attention.”
“Whose attention?” the old Templar behind him rasped.
“Theirs.”
Damien looked forward again, jerking his chin in the direction of the mounted knights thirty paces ahead, but he knew exactly when the men behind him spotted them as well, for he felt an almost palpable wall of tension sweep into his back.
He did not blame them for their fear. Quite likely this would be a suicide effort for them all, trying to outrun mounted warriors—well-fed, well-rested, and almost certainly well-trained warriors.
And as for any man stupid enough to deliberately seek their notice…
Well, better to leave that thought unexplored, Damien decided.
Gripping tighter the hefty branch he’d scrounged from the ground, Damien waited only long enough to know those behind him had begun to shift away as he’d bid.
Then he stood to his full height, widened his stance, and called out in an insolent voice, “All right, then. Which of you bastards wants to take a turn at me first?”
The sound of what had to be a dozen swords clearing their sheaths simultaneously filled the area with a metallic hiss. Damien breathed a prayer and gritted his teeth, waiting for the onslaught to begin.
But it did not come.
Instead, after a pause, one of the riders clicked his mount forward a few paces, and a voice rang through the wood, “Damien? Is that you, you reckless fool?”
A shock of surprise jabbed through Damien, and the stick fell from his grip.
The clouds that had been hiding the moon’s glow shifted away in that moment, illuminating twelve mounted warriors with Richard at the head.
And for the first time since Hugh had taken him captive on the roadside, Damien felt a surge of gratitude.
“Thank God, Richard,” he said quietly as his friend dismounted and strode over to clasp him, forearm to forearm. “How did you know?”
“Your squire found me and told me what happened.” Richard looked him over. “I have to say, you look like hell, Damien—and that stench…by heaven, it is more than foul.”
“Aye, well, a stay with the Inquisition and an escape through a refuse hatch will do that to a man,” he jested, trying not to dwell on the week of torment he’d endured.
Richard seemed to realize what Damien was feeling, and his expression shifted.
“I am sorry it took so long to reach you, my friend. We only slowed as we approached Grantley, knowing we might encounter Lord Harwick’s troops.
There are enough escaped Templars now that we need to be cautious in our travel. ”
He clasped Damien’s arm again. “I am only thankful that you were not harmed overmuch, my friend, and that you have eluded danger for the time being. In the time you were held, you should know that I also received some good news from John. He believes Alex has passed the point of danger, and though the odds were all against him, your brother seems likely to return to full health, given time.”
“Thank God,” Damien murmured again, though his joy at that news was tempered by worry over the woman he loved. His heart was heavy, and fear gripped him as he added, “However, there is another who is still in jeopardy, Richard. Have you heard aught about Alissende?”
Before he answered, Richard nodded to his men to offer aid to those who had escaped with Damien. Then he pulled Damien aside. “Only that she arrived home to Glenheim by nightfall the day after we left Odiham.”
“Hugh intends to take her as his own, that much I know,” Damien murmured grimly. “He will likely go there if he has not already. I must reach her, Richard. God help me, but I must free her from his grasp. I will free her, even if it is at the cost of my own life.”
Richard nodded. “I thought as much. Know that I and these men are ready to stand with you, Damien, whatever is needed.”
For the third time that night, surprise jolted through Damien. “But what of your wife? And these men…do they realize the danger they ride into, to follow me on this?”
“Aye, they know, as do I. I cannot deny that Meg worries for me, but she was the first to bid me go when your squire arrived at Hawksley.”
Overwhelmed with gratitude, Damien gripped Richard’s shoulder, turning with him as they strode toward the horses.
“Glenheim is a three-, perhaps a three-and-a-half-days’ ride from here under normal circumstances,” he said, reviewing the calculations in his mind.
“I must make it in two, Richard, pausing only long enough to eat, perhaps bathe away the stench of my confinement somewhere along the way, and obtain both a strong blade and a fast mount.”
Richard nodded. “Until we can secure a horse and the rest of what you need, you will ride with me, stench and all.”
His tone, offered half in jest with those words, shifted to something far more serious as he paused, meeting Damien’s gaze in the milky light of the forest. “Never fear, my friend,” Richard murmured. “As always, we will be in this together. Come what may.”
“Aye, come what may,” Damien echoed, realizing that that Templar maxim was no longer painful for him to utter; in fact, he drew strength from it, feeling its power wash through him, channeling it into the determination he would need for the challenge ahead.
“I promise you, Richard, whatever it is—I am ready for it.”