Fire Dance (34 page)

She had seen him fight, knew his bravery. But she also sensed the tense grip he held on the reins of his war horse. This was not the placid Chretien she had known before, within the castle gates. Like a wild tomcat, he seemed to bristle down his backbone. His eyes were focused on the bend in the dirt road, but flicked anxiously to the hillside at their right.

"What are you expecting?"

"If we make it round this hill, we will make it home. I expected an attack at the stream. But this is as dangerous."

"Why?"

"We have decided against an outrider, so that he will not have notice of our coming, but he may also have spies in the hills. I watch for them. We will charge around the hill together, and may catch him off guard. But if he blocks us, we can either fight or try to ride over the hill. So he would try to block that as well."

"Does he outnumber us still?"

"Likely."

She fell silent, watching the horizon as did he. Near the top of the long hill, she caught a flickered glint beneath a clump of trees.

"Chretien," she said softly, and nodded in that direction.

"I see it. Alain. The trees near the top."

"Aye. Hold the charge until we draw nearer."

"Aye."

Again, the knights bunched about her, while acting as if they did nothing unusual. Like them, she awaited the signal, and prayed she would not hinder them.

"Go!" shouted Alain, and the knights jammed their spurs into their mounts. Her swift courser easily matched the racing war horses as they sped around the curve.

Her heart stopped. Blocked.

Saxon knights spread in a double line across the road, both up the hillside and below. She had not guessed Anwealda still commanded so many men.

Norman chargers drew to a halt, prancing nervously. Chretien drew the net closer around the lady.

"Chretien," said Alain. "The lady, at all costs."

Chretien took her grey courser by its bridle to steady it. The horse jerked about as if in a stable on fire.

Melisande slanted a glance at their rear. Riders came around the curve of the hill behind them, trapping them.

"Dougal," she said.

Dougal, at last to show his face. They were not merely trapped, but outnumbered. Greatly outnumbered.

"Ho, Norman!" shouted Anwealda. "Have you taken to making knights of women, now?"

"I have heard they all are women," said another Saxon.

"Aye, or they take the place of women. Mayhap that is a boy who rides with him. Has he taken a liking to boys, think you?"

"Mayhap he learned it from Rufus."

"First hand!"

"It is but the witch, herself," said Anwealda. We should not be surprised to see her ride to battle with men. Have you told him, witch, what he really faces? I think not, else he would flee back to Rufus, his tail between his legs."

"He is no coward, Anwealda," she shouted. "Nor do you frighten me."

"Quiet, lady," Chretien hissed. "Do not stir them. I had hoped they would not recognize you so soon."

"He knows me well, Chretien. But so does Dougal. Dougal!"

"Lady, I did not know you rode with the Norman."

"You know, now. What say you, Dougal, that you ride against me? Have I not inherited my father's place?"

"Nay, lady, for you sup with Normans. I have no quarrel with you, but my land is my own, and I will not bow down to a dissolute Norman king. And I am no man's vassal. Leave them, and join Saxons like yourself."

Melisande flashed a look at Chretien by her side. "He has no stomach for this," she said in a low voice.

"Aye. He explains himself too much. When the melee begins, try to break free. If you must be captured, head for Dougal."

"I do not wish to go anywhere."

"You must, lady. Ride uphill. Your courser is light and swift, and likely to break free. No Saxon war horse could catch him if you push him hard enough."

"Nay."

Chretien latched her wrist in an iron grip. His eyes blazed. "You must not be taken. Promise me, lady."

She dared not object. In his eyes blazed the remembrance of his dead wife, and Gerard's living one. He and Alain both would die before letting Anwealda take her.

"Aye," she said.

"I will be behind you."

It would be futile to object to that, too. But she could see no clear path, either up or down. She turned again to Dougal, assessed his men and their strength. Even without Anwealda, he was strong enough to take them.

She affixed her eyes to Dougal, who jerked nervously on his charger's reins while the horse did an awkward, poorly controlled dance. The mounts of his front-riding knights balked. What unnerved them?

The word began like a low rumble, an indistinct sound she could not understand, that spread through the Saxon knights at their rear. As a group, they bolted, whirled, dug in their long spurs and fled.

"What?" shouted Chretien, whose eyes flitted anxiously over the countryside. She pivoted in her saddle as a hideous scream rolled down off the fell, freezing her blood. The word she had not deciphered became a shout as the Normans took it up.

"Gerard!"

Down from the hill rode Gerard, with his long lance lowered, and leaning into his racing stallion. His Saxon knights thundered after him with a yell that blended in a grotesque, bloody music.

"Gerard!" she screamed back. "And Thomas, too! Look!"

Thomas, his silver hair flying beyond his helm, with the household knights, crested the hill and raced down the slope.

Anwealda's men faltered. The Normans seized the advantage, and Anwealda sat in the trap. His great brown stallion reared. Anwealda jerked the reins of his steed and spun away in the only direction he could go, downslope from the road, across the valley, up to the hill beyond.

The look of blood steamed in Gerard's eyes as he sped past. He had a grudge to settle. Lynet lived, as did his babe, but Anwealda would have had it differently. Gerard would see Anwealda in his grave.

"See to the lady!" shouted Alain at Chretien, then he spurred his own charger to the chase.

Thomas pulled his men to a halt, and surrounded her and Chrétien's knights, while Alain and Gerard raced on.

"Thomas!"

"Aye, lady. It is good to see you safe."

"How did you know?"

"We have been watching since you left. When we saw Anwealda skulking near the castle, we thought first he meant to lay siege. But then we understood his plan, for if he has you and the Norman, he has the game. I will not let you away from the castle again, lady."

The pursuit across the dale slowed, for Anwealda had made his escape good. Only a few of his lagging knights had been unhorsed, and they were being forced afoot back up the hillside to the road.

"Come, lady, we must not delay, lest Dougal realize we are split again." Chretien, always the first to recognize their weaknesses, tugged her courser's bridle as if he did not trust her to obey, and they dashed along the road, surrounded by the melded group of riders.

She glanced back for Alain. But she knew better than to ask to wait. At Chrétien's bidding, she kicked the courser's flanks, and it galloped off toward the castle.

Once within the gates again, Melisande felt the heaviness lift from her chest, and realized that more than the mail had weighed upon her. A stable boy caught the grey courser's bridle and steadied it as Melisande dismounted.

"Help me out of this thing," she told the closest page, but the boy could not do it alone. He was much too small. He ran off to find two larger boys for the task.

The castle gate again swung open, and the remainder of the knights rode in, first Gerard's troop, then only a moment later, the Norman lord with the others. Gerard pitched himself down from his mighty white war horse, and stalked across the bailey where she stood. He yanked at his gauntlets as he faced her, and his brown eyes blazed fury.

"Ah, my lady of the chain mail. Well, you have wreaked havoc this time."

"The lord. Is he hurt?"

"Nay, lady, none are injured. But that is either by God's grace or pure fortune." Gerard then dismissed himself with a court bow and stomped away, seeking help with his own mail.

"Gerard!" called a feminine voice from the hall. Melisande turned to see Lynet, who stood within the double doors. "Gerard, are you well?"

"Aye, lady. But your pardon, I must tend to other things first."

Melisande stared at Gerard. She had never seen him in a fit of temper. Then she saw Alain, saw that his dark, piercing eyes sought her out first and found her safe. The anxious tension in his face faded to a smile. She felt an unfamiliar quirking at the right side of her mouth. He was safe, too.

The Norman, like the others, launched himself out of the saddle to the ground and steadied his mount, which was blowing hard. A squire rushed up to take the animal. Then also like the others, Alain shed the heavy mail.

"De Crency!"

Alain turned at the shout, as Gerard stalked toward him. Gerard planted himself before him, glaring. Then a hard fist flew forward, and caught Alain on the chin. Alain staggered back and barely retained his footing. Gerard stood, seething, feet planted, fists balled and ready.

"Chretien!" Melisande shouted, stunned at what she saw.

Chretien, who stood beside her, merely shook his head. His jaw was set as rigidly as Gerard's.

"You do not do something?"

"Gerard has earned the right to settle his differences with the lord."

"But to hit his lord?"

"Alain can hit back, if he chooses," said Chretien. "I think he will not. I will not interfere."

Chretien guessed correctly. When Alain made no offer to return the blow, Gerard turned and stomped away to where his lady waited at the hall's door.

Melisande's jaw hung slack before she recovered to speak. "I do not understand Normans."

"You do not?" Chretien almost growled his reply. "Had it not been Gerard, I would have done the same."

"But why?"

"I did not approve of your going, lady. The risk was unnecessary. Had not Gerard arrived when he did, you would be in Anwealda's hands, and we would be dead. I am angry at him for exposing you to this, and angry at you for going. But even more, I am angry at myself because I did not stop it."

"Then you did not care that I treated your wounded knights?"

"I am grateful to you, for I do love Robert like a brother. But he is a knight. He knows the risk he takes."

"As did I."

"You did not. We have trained at the
quintain
since we were babes, and rode in to war as naught more than boys. We suffer our wounds so that women do not have to risk themselves."

"You tell me naught I do not already know, Chrétien. But you have forgotten something. Women also have their place in the world. We must also take our risks."

"Then take yours in bearing babes, and leave ours to us."