Chapter Twenty-Seven #2
A castle. Mud. Rain. It was her dream come to life.
Something inside was screaming at her, telling her that she had to go there.
Already, she was feeling the same panic and anxiety that she felt whenever she had the dream, telling her that she had to find Brandt.
It was an overwhelming sensation, something she could not control.
She’d had the dream for months, a premonition of things to come, and she would not ignore it.
She had to go to him, like a moth to a flame, the lure was just too great.
She couldn’t sit back and ignore the dream, the messages she had been given. She had to go!
“I am going to Poitiers,” she said, bolting to her feet. As those around her gasped in shock and horror, she pointed to the messenger. “What is your name?”
The messenger was taken aback. “Sully, my lady.”
“You will take me there, Sully,” she commanded. Already, she was on the move. “Annabeth, Bridget, you will remain here. I must go to my husband.”
They were all following her out of the room, protests seeping from their lips. “My lady!” Annabeth gasped. “You cannot go! You are putting yourself in terrible danger!”
Ellowyn turned to her. “I understand,” she said patiently, “but Brandt is in danger. Mayhap he is even dying. Please do not ask me how I know this, but I do. I swear that I do. You must let me go to him.”
Annabeth’s mouth popped open in horror and she turned to Bridget for support. Bridget was deeply concerned.
“My lady, please,” she begged. “It is pure madness to want to go to Poitiers now. There is death and battle everywhere. You will be killed!”
Ellowyn shook her head. “I will not be killed,” she assured her. “Please understand me. I must go to my husband and I will risk my life to do it. If anyone gets in my way, I will run them down and if anyone tries to stop me, I will kill them. I must go to my husband now.”
Annabeth was in tears at this point. They were all following Ellowyn out into the entry hall, voices of reason pleading with a very determined lady.
It was chaotic as the servants took up the call and shouts of the duke’s death began to fly.
No one understood why Lady de Russe was so agitated but there could only be one explanation.
There was one voice, however, that was not pleading with Ellowyn to reconsider. Rosalind had followed her out into the entry along with the group, listening to the protests.
“My lady,” she said. “I know that area well. My mother had relatives near Chavigny and we would travel there often. I will go with you and help you find my father.”
Above the objections, Ellowyn gazed into Rosalind’s face, seeing that she was indeed sincere. She was also showing her father’s strength, something that impressed Ellowyn. She knew she should deny her but it was difficult.
“I appreciate your offer, but Sully will escort me,” she said. “You cannot put yourself in such danger.”
Rosalind cocked her head and Ellowyn could see Brandt in that gesture.
“I know the area better than he does,” she said.
“If you are looking for my father, I will be able to help you find him better than a messenger. I know every possible place to look, and I will know where to hide. You must take me.”
Ellowyn gazed steadily at the young woman. There was truth in what she said, but still, she shook her head.
“I cannot be responsible for your life,” she said softly. “I can only be responsible for mine.”
“You will not be responsible for me,” Rosalind insisted. “I alone am responsible for my life and for my actions, and everyone in this room is witness. You will not be blamed if something happens to me because I am going with or without your permission.”
Margarethe tried to talk to her sister but Rosalind gently pushed her away.
Her focus was on Ellowyn as the woman locked gazes with her.
It was evident that Ellowyn was very reluctant but she did not want to argue with Rosalind.
Much like Brandt, the woman was evidently resolute and stubborn.
They could all see that trait. Finally, Ellowyn nodded her head.
“Very well,” she said. “But we travel light and fast. In this weather, there is no telling how long it will take us to get there. Days if not weeks.”
Rosalind nodded firmly. “I will be ready.”
As Ellowyn continued to look at the young woman, she began to feel a bond with her, a common goal. Moreover, the woman was of Brandt’s blood. Ellowyn would love anything born from Brandt. Rosalind was brave and determined much as her father was.
“Foolishness!” Mme. Simpelace cried. “Stupidity! You must not go!”
Ellowyn turned to the old chatelaine. “I will go,” she said, jaw ticking. “If you will not help me, then get out of my way.”
Mme. Simpelace seemed to go through the throes of fainting without actually accomplishing the act. She was distraught, as were they all, but there was no changing the course that Ellowyn and Rosalind were about to take.
They went their separate ways to prepare for the journey, both women with people trailing after them begging them not to go, but they were determined. Eventually, those same people gave up the battle and began to help. There was no discouraging the inevitable.
With a purpose, with resolve and bravery bred from a love for her husband that ran deeper than the earth itself, Ellowyn was mounted and ready to ride only a few hours later.
Astride a leggy warm blood stallion, she was dressed in peasant clothing disguised as a male just as Rosalind was.
It was determined that would be the safest way to travel.
With six armed soldiers from the contingent guarding Melesse and with Sully in the lead, Lady de Russe and Lady Rosalind thundered from Chateau Melesse, heading south into the fiery jaws of death and destruction.