Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
She was tied to a tree. And gagged! Did they take her for a screamer?
Ropes were stretched around her middle to just below her neck.
Her arms were planted against her sides and no amount of wiggling gave her slack.
To make matters worse, she could see her sword, tossed aside and forgotten but well out of her own reach.
Her hands burned to reclaim its hilt, but she could do nothing more than watch as the men before her strategized.
They wanted Philippe, and they thought she was the answer.
It had been no accident that they were upon her once she was alone.
The Marquis claimed he would have snatched her sooner to draw out Philippe had his wife’s event not gotten in his way.
Once they had approached her that morning, they wasted no time knocking her off her horse, but Alex had made good on her promise and caused some pain before they took her down.
She had nailed one with a punch to the jaw, kicked another hard in the stomach, and toppled a big one by binding his sword and knocking him off balance with a shoulder check.
She even took a chunk out of another man’s arm with her sword, leaving a perfect spray of blood across the trees.
That was all before she was overtaken, being pushed into the dirt, bound and gagged, and not spared from the cheap shots and extra roughness they took with her.
It was him all along, the Marquis, that scoundrel.
No wonder they had such trouble pinning down their enemies.
The man they sought was the very man for whom they were fighting.
After they had captured her and secured her to the Marquis’ horse, she felt the hate boiling out of him—for the Duke, for the King.
While they rode, he muttered about the Duke’s capped taxes and sales regulations.
The Marquis had had a brilliant plan to bring money into the area, he bemoaned, but now, he would have to use Alex to capture Philippe and thus regain his advantage against the Duke. He hated having his plans disrupted.
They had traveled a few miles deeper into the woods to a makeshift camp of his men.
Alex was now secured at the far end of a small clearing while the men toiled before her.
She counted twenty six, including the Marquis and Giroux.
Up ahead, the Marquis was preparing for a confrontation in the midst of the thick trees.
He was at once commanding and assertive, but he was rushed and giving hasty orders: sharpen your sword, place a lookout, clear the brush, grease your blade.
He believed Philippe would discover her absence, gather what was left of his men, and come after her.
Alex alone knew she had strayed and Philippe would have no idea she had been taken.
What would happen to her when Philippe didn’t come?
She did not want to think about what these men would do to her.
At the hands of men with no control, no honor...
she would fight and rip them apart as best she could, for as long as she could.
She twisted in the ropes, embarrassed at her failure to escape.
The fear was there, but it had been overtaken by her own fury at herself for not piecing this together sooner.
She had just been on the edge of so many wonderful things. Now she felt only remorse deep in her chest. In the end, she would perish, a silly little story of the woman who wielded a sword and finally got what was coming to her.
Up ahead, something was happening between Giroux and the Marquis. Giroux indicated towards her, but the Marquis met him with unyielding indifference.
“This is not the outcome that we discussed,” Giroux said loud enough for Alex to hear. “Our objective can be met without any further bloodshed. I have told you that I will stand trial.”
“You know nothing of politics,” said the Marquis, dismissing his plea.
“I have it on the authority of Monsieur Philippe that the village towns will be cared for,” Giroux said ardently. “Even in my imprisonment, he promised my people would be a priority. Why must we continue with this fight?”
“Imbécile!” the Marquis thundered. “I do not care about a monthly pittance for the villages. The river is the issue! I do this to control the river.”
“I never agreed to fight for you to control the river,” Giroux said, his own voice dark and passionate. “And I certainly did not agree to take hostages and kill innocents.” He looked back to Alex, who was watching keenly. “She has nothing to do with this.”
“You are wearing on my patience, Giroux. You served your purpose, commanding the village raids in my stead, but they are finished. I no longer need you.” The Marquis cut an imposing figure, even though Giroux towered above him.
“Soon, I will own the river and hire a hundred men in your place.” He turned to the men at large.
“Know this face!” he boomed. “This is the face of your lord and master.” He said it in French then repeated it in dialect.
“When this day is done, I will have all the leverage I need to secede from the Duchy. If you are with me now, you will be rewarded then.”
The men cheered and bellowed their enthusiasm—dirty men, dishonorable men, men hired to be loyal.
The Marquis turned back to Giroux. “I’m sure many here wouldn’t mind doubling their salary to take out a traitor,” he said.
“And then perhaps tripling it for burning your beloved villages to the ground.”
Giroux looked around, his hand on the hilt of his sword. One by one, the men drew their blades, showing allegiance to the Marquis. Alex jerked again at her ropes and eyed her sword, wanting just one more chance to fight.
That was when she saw a wink of movement in the forest, off to her left.
It was just a slight rustle of leaves, but no animal would dare come so close to the noises of these men.
Alex watched carefully, so as not to draw notice, but the rebels before her were locked in a standoff.
Then she saw it. Philippe’s angry face glaring at her from behind the leaves.
She thought she must have been imagining it, but he looked so mad at her that he had to have been real.
She almost laughed in relief; her joy at seeing him was palpable.
Philippe nodded in the Marquis’ direction as he brought his finger up to his lips, reminding her they were far from being out of danger.
Before her, rebel swords were still drawn, but Giroux had taken his hand off his blade. “I am your servant,” he said with a bow of his head.
The Marquis put his hand on Giroux’s shoulder. “Do not forget it,” he said. And as quick as that, the upheaval was over.
Philippe, meanwhile, disappeared from her view as the tension in the camp broke. She hoped he wasn’t alone, but she couldn’t make out any other signs of life. Then, suddenly, he was right behind her, his presence thicker than the trees.
“I’m alone,” he whispered, answering the question she couldn’t ask.
Alex made no sound but felt her fingers wiggling in excitement that he was there.
“Calm down,” he laughed and touched her hand. “We’ll try to sneak back to my horse, but you may need to fight if we can’t get you out before they notice.”
Finally, she thought, she was itching to teach someone a lesson.
The tree was large enough that good placement allowed Philippe to go undetected as he cut through her bindings.
He worked swiftly but delicately, so that she could feel the vibrations as he cut without hearing the sound of the fibers splitting.
Thankfully, no one had paid much attention to her once they’d secured her to the tree.
She hoped their ignorance would last just a little longer.
Then, as the Marquis scanned the various projects he had moving forward, he turned to her.
He took a hard look and walked a few steps towards her position, eyebrows cocked and head tilted.
He knew. She willed Philippe to slink away, but she felt him just freeze in place.
The Marquis was upon them before she could even try to look like nothing was happening.
“It would seem that the lady guide’s absence does not go long unnoticed,” the Marquis said to Alex.
Alex held his gaze. She would kick him in the face if he were closer.
“I know you are here,” he said, turning his attention from her.
She felt a final, forceful slice go through the ropes before Philippe stood up to come around and face him.
“You’re a little early, Lord Philippe,” the Marquis said. “We aren’t quite ready for you, but we have numbers on our side.”
“You had numbers on your side the last time I captured your men,” Philippe said condescendingly.
“Well, their commander is here now.” The words leached from his smile. “And you seem to be the one waiting on reinforcements.” He scanned the trees. “I had hoped you would rush in foolhardy when you realized she was gone. It seems I was correct.”
“So, what do you want?” Philippe asked, not responding to the taunt.
“Right to business?” The Marquis nodded through a complacent smirk. “Then I won’t draw it out any further.” He narrowed his eyes and called out to the men behind him. Alex watched as they became aware of the situation.
The Marquis continued, “I want you to write to your father recommending the tax,” he glared potently at Philippe.
“I will be the natural choice to monitor its distribution. Then you will tell him you have decided to remain in Ponce for a… vacation, perhaps? Maybe you got lost in a whorehouse.” He shrugged.
“I don’t care. You will, of course, be detained.
Killed, when it suits my situation best.” He grinned, malice evident.
“By the time the Duke figures it out, I will have raised my army.”
“He won’t believe such a story,” Philippe replied.
“Well,” began the Marquis, “it will be your job to make him believe.”
Philippe folded his arms and leaned against the tree, studying the man. “That doesn’t sound like a very good deal, Marquis,” he said.
“I agree,” the Marquis conceded. “But if you don’t do what I ask,” he unsheathed his sword and angled it towards Alex. He pressed the tip into the depression of skin just between her collarbones. “I’ll let these savages kill her. And I’ll tell them to make it hurt.”
It wasn’t the steel to her throat that made her panic, or even the threat.
It was the look on Philippe’s face that told her he was considering the Marquis’ proposition.
No no no, she thought, fear forgotten, she only wanted to stand beside him and fight.
Philippe had cut slack in her ropes, but she was still bound.
She tugged helplessly at the bindings while she watched all the spirit drain from Philippe’s face.
“Answer me now,” the Marquis said as he pressed the point more firmly against her throat.
“If I submit, you must not hurt her,” Philippe said, his confidence shaken.
“I will give her to my wife,” the Marquis oozed. “As a pet.”
Philippe had no men behind him. He had no allies in this bunch or any chance of victory.
Alex knew if it wasn’t for her, he would have a chance to get away.
She was flushed with gratitude that he would give himself up for her, but then, as she watched his wrist shift to surrender his blade, Alex snapped.
They weren’t going down like this.
Summoning every ounce of strength in her being, she dug deep, through years of training and fighting, through everything that she had ever overcome or stored away because it was too painful.
She became purely animal, a repressed beast brimming with willpower and grit.
She bit into her gag, and with a deep and desperate growl, she ripped into her muscles and all at once tore through her remaining bindings.
The ropes coiled back like snakes against her surge of energy, startling both the men. She wasted no time and grabbed the Marquis’ blade with her bare hands. She jerked him forward and used the leverage to take out his feet. He crashed down, dumbfounded, on top of her.
But he was off her in seconds as Philippe threw him back and attacked him aggressively.
She pulled frantically at the rest of the ropes as one of the Marquis’ underlings charged her.
She braced herself against the tree, and just as he got close enough, she kicked his knee with her boot.
She heard the snap of bone and the man crumbled before her with a scream.
She dove across him and grabbed her sword.
Power bolted through her as she reclaimed her weapon.
She scrambled to her feet and ripped the gag from her mouth, the last of the rope falling to the dirt.
The Marquis’ men were caught off guard, and not all at once did they realize the fighting had begun.
Many of them had their sword drawn in the opposite direction, looking to the trees, waiting for the attack.
It would be just moments before they realized Philippe had come alone.
By now, Philippe was locked in a heated battle with the Marquis, but Alex had gained enough attention to do some damage herself.
A short but thick man came at her, and she put a perfect gash right across his face.
Another raggedy man swung his blade at her wildly, but she ducked his sword, swinging a powerful undercut that knocked him right off his feet.
He landed in the dirt and rolled to his stomach.
Alex stomped across his back as she ran to Philippe’s side.
The Marquis had backed away, not having the stamina of the young lord, and Philippe was now skillfully slicing through two others at once.
He dropped them both just as the rest of the men began to realize that no one else was coming.
They approached the lord and his guide, snickering with the ease of meeting their objective.
Philippe and Alex angled themselves so they were standing back to back.
The Marquis caught his breath as the remaining soldiers closed in.
“Let’s give ‘em hell, eh, little fox,” Philippe said to her.
“Just what I was thinking.”
With him behind her, feeling the energy of his body, Alex felt comfort even though the odds were against them.
He had come back for her, and she wished he could know just how grateful she was.
She knew she was not invincible, she knew that this fight meant she would never get to say the things to him that she needed to say.
But, here, she would stand her ground and she would fight with him, for him, for herself, until her very last breath.