Arrow To The Heart (De Bron Saga) (13 page)

“Aye. Enemy.” She wouldn’t allow herself to forget that again.

Moving to the door she made certain that it was locked securely, then looked in the large polished metal mirror hanging on the wall.  Taking note of the wisps of hair that peeked out from the hood she made her decision--a sacrifice, as it were.  Her hair would have to be cut.  Though she had worn it securely wrapped around her head in braids, she couldn't take the risk of it tumbling down and ruining her disguise as it almost had at the tournament.  Not now.  Not when she planned to enter upon such a risky venture.  Her honey-colored locks would have to go.

With knife in hand Rowena began, slowly cutting her long tresses.  She would fashion a braid from the shorn locks to wear pinned to her head during those times when she would have to look womanly and ladylike.  No one ne
ed know that her hair had been cut to just a few inches below the ear.  Not even her father.  It would be her secret.

Averting her eyes from her image, Rowena cut and cut until it was done, little realizing just how becoming the short hair was to her oval face.  The honey-colored curls framed the beauty of her eyes.  "Shorn like a sheep," she quipped, viewing her handiwork.

Picking up her long bow of yew wood and quiver of arrows she stared at her reflection long and hard, realizing in that moment that her child's play was over.  What she planned to do now would take her into danger--might well make her an outlaw like Robin Hood.   Indeed, it might well mean her death.

There were only ashes where once a stable had stood. Ashes, blackened rubble and smoke.

“My lord de Bron what happened?” Riding up to where he stood, Humbley  reining in close behind, Chadwick was aghast.

“It seems we had a little visitor.” Taking the arrow that had been left as a grim reminder, Kendrick angrily broke it in two.

“The archer?”

Kendrick couldn’t answer. He was too filled with anger at the moment to put anything into words. Clenching his teeth in frustration, he did nod, however.

“The horses….?” Humbley, a kind soul who was gentle with animals, studied the damage, sighing thankfully. “Well at least there is that to be thankful for. Methinks it could have been worse.”

“And might be next time.” Chadwick slid slowly from his horse. “Thus, what can we do?”

“Do? The answer was obvious, although irritating for Kendrick to admit. “We must get reinforcements.” With the act of arson the young archer had declared war. Besides, perhaps the arrival of guardsmen would frighten the young scoundrel off.

“From the prince?” Humbley wrinkled his nose.

“Aye.” There was no other choice, although the very idea stung Kendrick’s pride. He had to save the manor house church and other village buildings at all cost.

Chapter Twelve

Three riders rode along the road, riders that Rowena recognized immediately from their helmets, hauberks and surcoats. “Prince John’s rodents!”

Watching intently as they passed through a peaceful village of straw-thatched cottages, rode beyond the gnarled old oak, then splashed through a swollen stream, she didn’t even have to guess where they were headed.

“De Bron’s manor.” So he could not fight his battles alone but needed the prince’s hounds. Well, so be it!

Rowena star
ed at the horizon as the men traveled another few miles, turning her horse around only when she saw them go beyond the waterwheel and pass over the newly built stone bridge that marked that spot where Grantham Manor and Melburn Manor touched boundaries. With a shrug she headed back towards the manor, pausing a short distance away to change her garments and hide them in an old abandoned well. Carefully she took the strings off her bow and put them in a dry pouch, hiding the bow and strings in a hole in the ground, then covering the hole with straw.

Rid
ing into the courtyard, Rowena dismounted, handing her horse over to the grinning stable boy, and walked towards the manor house in hurried strides. It was much safer to be the lady again while John’s men roamed about, she thought, reaching up to make certain her braid was pinned on tight. Then she entered the hall, smiling as she heard her father’s voice.

Rowena's smile soon faltered at the sight of Kendrick de Bron's cloak, hanging on a peg by the door.
She swore, feeling not at all in the mood to suffer his company. She would never for one moment admit that she found him attractive.  Oh no.  He was her enemy.  Worse yet because of his ties to Prince John he was an enemy of her king.

Immediately the fire she had set on his property came to mind.
Does he know?

Suddenly she longed to be out of these stifling woman's garments and away from the manor walls.  She didn't want to come face to face with de Bron.  Not now.  Not ever!  That is unless she were to lock him in the stocks with her very own hands.  Or make him walk barefoot and in his undertunic again.  Or see that he got a good dunking
in the pond.               

"Why is he here?"  For a moment Rowena felt uneasy.  Was it possible?  Could it be?  Had Kendrick de Bron figured out that she was the one causing all the mischief at his manor?  The fire in the stables, livestock let out of their pens, the bee hives robbed of their honey combs.  Had he come to accuse her?  Warily she crept forward to eavesdrop.

“I know that we may not see things exactly the same, but you must agree this foolishness must stop! I would hate to see the destruction flow over to Grantham Manor.”

Rowena stiffened. Was Kendrick de Bron threatening her father?

“As would I. I am a man who values peace.”

There was a long pause before de Bron asked, “And can the same be said for your son?”

A strange question, Rowena thought. Worriedly she remembered seeing the three men headed for de Bron’s manor.

“My son?” Though her father seldom laughed he did so now. “De Bron, I have but one child, one who, female or not, can often be a handful.”

Kendrick de Bron’s tone was less jovial. “As well I know.”

Though he could have said more, de Bron’s comment was a subtle condemnation of Rowena’s manners.

"I apologize for my daughter," her father was saying, a plea that struck a blow to her pride.  Apologize.  Apologize for her?

"Ah, the fairer sex," Kendrick answered, his voice so low that she could barely hear.  "What do you do with them, but what could we do without them.  They are a puzzle to ponder."

"Her mother was a feisty woman as well.  No doubt my daughter gets her temperament from my fair wife, God rest her soul.” Suddenly choked with emotion he paused, then confided,  “I loved that woman more than life."  There was another pause as Sir William got hold of his emotions.  "As for Rowena, I take full blame for her willfulness, but I'm certain that you can soon tame her."

“Tame her?”

Rowena heard their “neighbor” chuckle and clenched her fists to think that she was the topic of conversation.  Tame her indeed.  That would be the day. Oh, if he only knew.

“Aye. Tame.” Sir William cleared his throat. “I have been thinking of offering you my daughter’s hand in marriage, to put the matter quite bluntly. It would be joining two of
England’s noble families and…and be prosperous to us both, considering that our lands now adjoin.”

“Marry her?” the quiet was sliced through with the sound of Kendrick de Bron’s laughter. “Marry her indeed. Now there is a thought.” He laughed again.

That merriment was more than Rowena could bear. Touching her face she felt the heat of her blush and cursed her father for humiliating her so. So that was what he had been pondering so diligently the last few days! As for de Bron, she hoped he choked on his chuckling. Oh, if only she could use her bow and arrow.

Goaded on by her temper, Rowena swept into the room. “So, you think to offer me up to this…this…
traitor
on a sliver platter,” she said, her eyes sweeping the room. She saw de Bron standing by the fire and knew his eyes were riveted upon her as well. “Think again, Father.”

Never had Rowena felt s
o estranged from her father. Oh, it was true that she and her father had seldom understood each other, but never before had he been so callous about her feelings. Why, he sounded as if he couldn’t wait to be rid of her. Was she really such a burden?

“A woman has but two choices, daughter.” Raising his hand, Sir William put up one
finger, “She can either marry—“ he put up the second finger.”—or give herself to God.”

“I would as soon be sent off to a convent as to marry a fool like him.” Just in case there be any mistake who she meant, she pointed a trembling finger at de Bron and continued. “I want marriage not at all. Particularly  marriage to him!”

"Rowena!"  Sir William coughed, sputtering on his ale.  "And indeed you shall be sent to a nunnery if you do not hold your tongue."

Kendrick was taken aback.  The pretty young woman's scorn was as powerful as her punch had been that eve.  He found himself wanting to reach up and touch his jaw as if she had struck him anew.   And yet, instead of souring him on the girl, her spunk only served to add to his ardor.  She had spirit, this one.  He liked that.  He wanted no milksop miss who jumped at his every command.  His eyes swept over her.  Would she be as bold in bed as she was when she was angered?  Oh, that he could get her alone.

“Rowena, say that you are sorry."

"Sorry?"  She looked de Bron over just as boldly as he had her.  The trouble was
, she liked what she saw.  He had worn a leather tunic, brown hosen and a white linen shirt that was open to reveal a mat of black hair curling on his muscular chest.  His muscles and that hair seemed to kindle an odd feeling deep inside her. She remembered his kisses and….felt desire?  Heaven forbid!  "Say I'm sorry," she said again, louder than before.  "Indeed no, for I will not lie." 

"Then neither will I."  Kendrick's mouth compressed into a thin line.  His words were clipped, harsh.  The wench needed to be taught a lesson.   "I understand your desperation in trying to find a husband for your daughter, Sir William, but count me out.  As you can plainly see she is entirely unsuitable to carry the name de Bron.  She is clearly no lady."

"Nor do I want to be," Rowena shot back.  She should be pleased that he wanted no part of her.  Why then wasn't she?  Why did his words sting her pride?  Irritated, she glared at him defiantly.

"That much is obvious."  Kendrick's voice was harsh as he threw a final insult in her face.  "But then take heart, Sir William.  Perhaps you can find a husband for the wench after all.
”  The incidents of mischief at his manor had taken a toll on his patience. Perhaps that was why he added, “Among the stable boys who share her common manners.”

"A stable boy!"  The old man was shocked.  Humiliated.  Even so
, he seemed determined to change de Bron's mind, following at his heels as de Bron walked towards the door.   As it was, his effort proved to be useless as the slamming door attested.  Before he left, however, Kendrick had one more thing to say.  A warning as it were.

"I have always considered myself to be a reasonable man, but even a saint has his limits."  Kendrick spoke loudly enough for Rowena to hear.  "Mind me well, old man, I will no
t abide being made a victim. I will not tolerate any more destruction to my manor.  Next time I will strike back and strike hard.  Tell that to the perpetrator  if you can."  Thus said, he was gone leaving Rowena behind to wonder at his words.

The sky was dark. Only a slice of the setting sun was visible behind the cover of clouds. As Kendrick rode back towards his manor his temperament was cloudy. Angry. There was no way he could soften the blow that saucy boisterous chit of a girl had dealt him. He had been rejected, and not kindly.

“She said no to
me
. I was refused before I even offered for her hand. Never before have I been treated so foully.” The Lady Rowena Fitz Hugh was like a flower, beckoning his touch only to prick him with her thorns over and over again. Why then was he so tempted to turn back? To try to make amends even  though in this she had been the offender? Because he could well view the sweetness that dwelt beneath her barbs? Aye, that was it.

The lady in question was like a sputtering cat, an untamed colt, a wild bird that wanted to fly free. Deep in his heart he admired her spirit. But how was he going to get close enough to tame her, calm her, win her heart?

“All she needs is to be properly wooed and bedded,” he said aloud, that being a duty he would welcome whole-heartedly. And yet in so doing, would he survive? Remembering their encounters in Prince John’s castle and at her manor, he wondered. Surely she was the most incorrigible woman he had ever come across. At the same time she had enchanted him. Utterly. Thoroughly.

“But she will be
mine.” As he rode along, listening to the clip-clop of his horse’s hooves  he pondered how that was going to be.

It was but a short jog from one property to the other, thus it did not take Kendrick long to reach the wooden and stone building with its sod roof and tiny windows. Dismounting, he gave the animal over to the stable boy, grimacing as he took a look at the lad and remembered his comment to Sir William. The young man was unkempt, grimy. Surely he would not want to wish this one on any unsuspecting maid, even if she did have a tart tongue.

“Be careful with him, Edmund. Do not curry him so hard this time. You almost tore his skin off last time. And water him sparingly. It is not my intent that you should drown him.”

“
Aye, aye, my lord.” Though the stable boy’s nod was acquiescent there was something in his eyes that warned that he could be dangerous were he crossed. Unfortunately that was the feeling that Kendrick got from the three men who met him as he pushed through the door of his manor.

“John sent us, to make certain that there is no further trouble.” One of the men with a scar on his cheek said. His tone was ominous.

Kendrick couldn’t help wondering if these men intended to prevent trouble or to kindle it. Now he regretted his hasty decision to ask the prince for help. He feared he might have gotten far more than he had bargained for.

“Aye, we will soon show your villeins that anyone who dares to even sneeze without the prince’s permission will be punished.” Putting his hands around his throat the other man stuck out his tongue, mimicking the gruesome scene of a hanging.

Kendrick shook his head. “Nay, we will have no hangings around here, at least unless I will it.”

“You?” The way the word was said  mocked Kendrick’s authority
, as if to say that only John’s “will” was to be obeyed.

“Mine!” Fearing that he might well lose his temper, Kendrick ushered the men to the door, offering them the comforts of one of the empty cottages. “Simple lodging for men such as you, but comfortable I hope.” His smile was less than sincere. Watching as the three men strode across the road, Kendrick was tense and anxious for a solitude that was not to be allowed him.

“So, we meet again.”

Turning, Kendrick recognized Hugo, the servant he had met at the castle who had claimed to have served Kendrick’s uncle once. Stepping out of the shadows he made no apologies for his sudden appearance.

“Where are Chad and Humbley?”

“Who?” Hugo shrugged. “Ah yes, your servants from abroad. Let us just say that they were detained in
Nottingham. The prince had a few questions.”

“Detained!” L
osing his temper, Kendrick grabbed Hugo by the front of his tunic. “So, I send two trusted men to the prince for help and he makes of  them his prisoners. Well, I will not have it.”

“Prisoners?” Pulling out of Kendrick’s grasp, Hugo hurried to put his mind at ease. “Ah, no. John merely wants word of what improvements have been made to Melburn, that is all. Your servants will return very soon. Meanwhile, I am here to take their place, at least for awhile.” He pointed to the fire where a large caldron of water was boiling. “But come, you seem tense and irritable. I will prepare your bath so that you can relax and think about things more clearly.”