Chapter Twenty-three #4

“Aye, friend,” Talon said

with a wry smile hard earned. “And so it is. A silken noose tighter

and stronger than any rope, but soft and giving too. You must trust

your wife will not pull too tight or sever the tie, but keep it

bound with love and tenderness, and honor and loyalty.”

“You think she will have

me?” Phillipe said with such a pathetic edge to his voice that

every man at the table burst out laughing.

“Good God,” Talon asked

the table at large. “Was I this bad?”

“Worse,” Anglbert

chortled. “Kept brooding about, snapping our heads off, and falling

off your horse.” He turned to Phillipe. “Of course she’ll have you.

Though her father may not give his consent as easily.”

“Aye,” Oswald added

ominously. “He’ll not want to be giving his only child in marriage

to just any man.”

“Especially one with a

reputation as a ladies’ man,” Dardinel piled on.

“True.” Talon eyed

Phillipe sternly. “Fathers can be overly protective of their

daughters.”

“And the miller carries a

really big axe,” Willem, who’d accepted an invitation to supper,

said with a laugh as Wyatt sat grinning beside him, happy to be

included in the men’s company.

“Thanks.” Phillipe winced.

“You’ve all been so…helpful.”

“We do what we can.”

Anglbert chuckled.

Phillipe cleared his throat and

straightened his shoulders. “I guess I’ll be buying that piece of

land from you sooner rather than later,” he told Talon.

Talon offered his hand and Phillipe

shook on it. “We’ll talk price tomorrow.”

“There goes that fine

broodmare you’ve been bragging on,” Anglbert said.

“And your first ten

foals,” Talon teased as Phillipe swallowed hard and tried even

harder to act as if the cost would be nothing to him, while all

around the table his friends spouted more and more ridiculous

terms.

Dardinel was up to three broodmares,

twenty foals, a hundred gold solidi, and Phillipe’s firstborn child

when Denys burst into the hall, panting, his face ashen.

“They’ve been taken.” He

gasped as he laid an arrow down on the table before Talon. “Lara

and Isabeau, Patience and Wilric, Berta, Enid, Doralice. They’ve

all been taken.”

“Basques,” Anglbert

growled down at the arrow as Talon stood and gripped the table’s

edge, the room spinning around him.

“Damned slavers.” Phillipe

stood with his hand on his knife’s hilt. “They will get no gold or

silver for our women and children, only blood.”

The scraping of chairs and angry

voices barely matched the roaring of Talon’s blood in his ears. He

glanced around the table. The men stood there watching him, waiting

for him to give them their orders, to tell them how to bring their

women and children home, how to save his wife and child from a band

of ruthless slavers.

“Did anyone see anything?”

he asked Denys.

“Marta did.” Concern laced

his eyes at how he must have hated leaving his wife after this.

“Lara convinced the leader she was too pregnant to survive a

journey of any distance. They left her gagged and bound in a chair

under the old oak.”

“Tree?”

“Had three arrows sticking

out of him, which he wouldn’t let me remove before I came to you.

Wolf has an arrow in his leg too.”

Talon nodded, grateful no one had

died. Yet. “Did either of them say how many men there

were?”

“Tree counted

six.”

“Did they put them on

horses or march them out on foot?”

“Tied them to a line and

marched them.”

Talon looked to Anglbert. “They’d want

to be moving fast.”

“Which means there were

men nearby with horses,” Anglbert said. “Maybe more waiting at a

camp.”

“Twenty should give us an

edge in numbers,” Phillipe said.

Talon addressed the room. “I need

twenty men who can ride hard and fight harder.”

Every man there stepped forward,

including Willem, who was no soldier used to days in the saddle, no

warrior used to wielding a sword. But he was a man who loved his

wife and child, and he had the right to fight for them.

“We meet at black of

dawn,” Talon told them. Night had already fallen, and by the time

Talon gathered enough men and supplies, it would be midnight.

“We’ll leave from Denys and Marta’s place; their tracks will be

freshest from there. I want every man to carry three days’ supplies

and a second saddle horse. They’ve got almost a day’s ride ahead of

us, fresh horses may give us an edge there.”

“Aye, that and trying to

keep Berta astride a horse.” The lightness of Anglbert’s words

belied the hard glint of his eyes. “That should slow them down a

bit.”

“The Basques take women to

sell.” Phillipe spoke what every man there feared. “They’ve got to

know we’ll be coming hard and fast on their tail. They won’t have

time to—”

“Phillipe’s right,” Oswald

seconded. “They’re slavers: they won’t want to be dealing with

women who are injured in any way. They’ll want their coin from

them, not their blood, or other things.”

Talon grunted. They were right. The

women would be worth more unharmed. And if they were wrong, he

hoped Lara would submit to her captors, that she wouldn’t fight or

give them a reason to hurt her or Isabeau, knowing full well she’d

fight them tooth and nail.

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