Heart's Ransom (Heart and Soul)
Read Heart's Ransom (Heart and Soul) Online
Authors: Kathryn Loch
Heart’s Ransom
By Kathryn Loch
Text Copyright
© 2012 Karrie Balwochus
All Rights Reserved.
Dedicated to my friends, talented artists in their own right who stood by me when I most needed them. Thank you.
Table of Contents
Lewes on the Sussex South Downs
Sussex, England
May 1264 A.D.
Marcher Earl, Sir Talon Montgomery, slammed his horseman’s axe into the poorly armored shoulder of an infantry man. Bone crunched and blood gushed from the wound, spattering Talon. The man collapsed, trampled under his war horse’s hooves.
Talon lifted his axe again, sucking air into his lungs, trying to ignore the stench of blood and death. The screams of the wounded and dying resounded in his skull. His axe swung outward, catching a man in the face and killing him instantly.
The fighting around Talon faded, his enemies slain. He checked his horse and spared a quick glance around him as his fellow knights battled valiantly to reach their goal.
Badly outnumbered, Talon knew they teetered on the brink of being routed. Fortunately, he had convinced Earl Simon de Montfort to risk a daring night march yester eve. Because of that they had been able to seize the high ground before engaging with King Henry’s forces. But exhaustion now demanded its toll.
He heard the rumble of heavy cavalry and gritted his teeth when he spotted Henry’s son, Prince Edward leading the charge. At twenty and five, Edward was already an intimidating man. Some had taken to calling him Longshanks because of his height. But Talon could look him dead in the eye, and he had the advantage of being ten years his senior in age and experience.
Edward aimed his charge at a specific point of the battle lines, exactly where Talon wanted. So many in Montfort’s army were inexperienced, the majority of them untested Londoners who had never been outside the city walls. With Montfort’s permission, Talon had placed the Londoners where he knew Edward would not be able to resist them and gave the men very specific instructions.
Montfort’s son, also named Henry, pulled his blowing mount to a stop beside Talon.
Henry was second in command of the army, and Talon one of his commanders.
Talon could not see his face because of the great helm but he heard Henry’s chuckle echo under the metal. “You were right, Montgomery. Longshanks moves for the weak link.”
“Are our men in position?”
“Aye.
Edward’s cavalry slammed into the line of Londoners, they fought bravely, but soon the ranks buckled.
“Now,” Talon growled to himself, praying they would obey his orders.
With slaughter and the wrath of Prince Edward upon them, a handful of Londoners broke and ran. They sprinted for the distant trees and away from the battlefield. Dozens more followed. The ranks deserted faster than they could die.
Talon sucked in another breath, his heart slamming against his ribs.
Prince Edward lifted his bloody sword, barking orders to his knights. They wheeled away and broke ranks, chasing the running Londoners.
Henry Montfort pounded a gauntleted fist on Talon’s shoulder. “Ha!” he barked gleefully. “You were right; Edward cannot resist vengeance against those who would defy him. He is taking his cavalry with him.”
Talon finally allowed a smile to tug at his lips. “Now we ride.” He kicked his horse into a gallop, Henry and the other knights joining him. They exploded through the enemy lines, targeting specific men; the king’s battle commanders. When Prince Edward returned, he would find his father’s army in disarray.
Talon’s axe again rose and fell, dispatching anyone in his path. He spotted heraldry of another Marcher Earl, John de Warenne and red tinted his vision. A memory of a small woman, with long blonde hair, a beauty capable of stealing a man’s sanity, forced its way forward. A woman whose heart had been the exact opposite of her fair features. A woman who had destroyed Talon’s life. John de Warenne’s cousin, Eleanor, once also Talon’s wife.
Because of Eleanor’s vindictive hatred, Talon had long been at odds with Warenne. Warenne doted on her, nauseatingly overprotective, blaming Talon for everything gone wrong. Within the past year their mutual contempt had grown into hatred.
To add insult to injury, Warenne was a royalist to the core, fighting and scrapping against the Magna Carta, which the king’s father had been forced to sign, and against the Provisions of Oxford. The Provisions were the reason why Talon took up arms with the Montforts and rebelled against his king.
Talon bellowed his fury and charged.
At the last instant, Warenne spotted Talon. He looked around frantically but his allies and guardsmen were dead. Like the coward he was, Warenne turned his horse and fled the field.
Talon, hatred nearly choking him, tried to pursue but then pulled his charger to a sliding stop. He would not be lured from the battlefield like Edward. Let the craven run. If Montfort won the day, Warenne would find no sanctuary on this blessed island. The knave would have to flee to France. Talon spun his horse around and returned to the melee.
Men and horses surged and writhed like a mass of a single living creature. Montfort’s son rallied the knights and Talon swung his charger toward his banner. They rode hard, converging on one man.
King Henry battled to escape but Talon rode one of the king’s commanders down then blocked the path. Henry turned his horse but Montfort’s son did the same thing and intercepted. Within a heartbeat, the king was surrounded.
Montfort’s son pointed his sword at the king. “Yield this day or die.”
Henry dropped his weapon.
Edward returned just in time to be taken into custody, his proud face a mask of impotent rage. The hot blood of the Angevin kings flowed through his body but it would have no recourse this day. Edward and his father had lost, but Talon recognized the blossoming of a sharp military mind in the young prince. When it came time for Edward to claim the throne, his battle prowess, stratagems, and his ruthlessness would be unparalleled.
The only reason why Talon had been able to gain the upper hand was because of his experience gained in pitched battles with the Welsh on the volatile borderlands. The area of the Marches Talon governed was the place where civilization ended and barbarism began. Yet Talon had no doubt Edward had learned a valuable lesson this day. His mistake would never be repeated.
Talon surveyed the battlefield in grim satisfaction. Sweat streamed down his body under his armor and his muscles trembled with exhaustion. But their goals had been obtained. King Henry and his son were prisoners of Simon de Montfort, their battle commanders either dead or vanished. Now, Montfort and his allies had the leverage they needed. They would force Henry to accept the Provisions of Oxford and bring justice and law to a nation.
His body aching, Talon left Montfort to deal with his prizes. He rode his mount to the encampment and turned the animal over to his squire, giving the giant black war horse a good pat for his noble efforts. “Rub him down properly, Thomas,” Talon said to the boy. “When he’s cool give him some extra rations. He’s earned them.”
“Aye, sir.”
“And prepare our camp to leave, we will be departing for Montgomery immediately. Have my palfrey saddled.” His long-legged riding horse was much more appropriate for the journey home instead of his charger.
“So soon?” a voice asked.
Talon turned and saw Simon de Montfort approaching. In his late fifties, Simon commanded an air of respect even though he hobbled on a crutch because of his recently broken leg acquired in a riding accident. Despite his injury, he had led his army well today. Talon bowed as he and his son approached.
“I’m afraid so, my lordships. It is not good that I be away from the border for so long.” Talon did not admit to them that another reason drove him. He hadn’t seen his precious daughter, Rose, in months because of this campaign against Henry. She was all he had left in this world. His eight year old little girl was the only light in a dark soul which had known too much pain in life.
Montfort nodded. “Aye, Montgomery, we cannot have Welsh raiders decide to add kindling to a pot already boiling. I will feel much better if you are at Montgomery. I am most grateful for your help. Your strategies were sound and enabled us to win the day. I am sure we will have the matter of the Provisions settled shortly.”
“You are too kind, your lordship. I have pledged my services, and am glad they were useful.”
“Fare thee well, Montgomery, may the grace of God guide your path on the journey home.”
“And you, my lordship,” Talon said, again bowing as Montfort limped away.
Talon returned to his encampment, finding his destrier well cared for as he requested. He ordered the dismantling of pavilions and the packing of trunks. Talon entered his own pavilion and removed his heavy chainmail armor. Using a basin of water, he cleaned the sweat and blood covering him.
God’s grace had been upon him this day. The only injuries he had received were a few bruises. He dressed again, opting for lighter studded leather armor for traveling. He was too weary to wear the heavy chainmail hauberk any longer. Over that he donned a clean surcoat and wrapped his sword belt around his waist.
“My lord?” Thomas’ timid voice called from outside his pavilion.
“Enter.”
The lad hurried into the pavilion, his brown eyes wide. “My lord, Sir Marcus has arrived from Montgomery. He says it is urgent.”
Talon’s heart jumped in his chest. Marcus? Damnation, was he too late? Had the Welsh tried to slip past Montgomery’s defenses to raid again? “Send him in immediately.”
“Aye sir.”
Within moments Marcus entered the pavilion, one of Talon’s most trusted men. He
appeared haggard and worn, his eyes glazed with fear. Talon’s heart pounded even harder. Why had he come instead of sending a herald? “What’s wrong, Marcus?”
“I....” Suddenly he dropped to his knees, his head bowed. “Forgive me, my lord,” he said his voice shaking. “But I have grievous news. Lady Rose has disappeared. We cannot find her.”
An invisible fist slammed into Talon’s gut at the same moment a knife pierced his heart. The blood drained from his face, darkening his vision and clouding his thoughts. He staggered back a step, bumping into a chair, his legs suddenly refusing to support him. Fortunately, he sank into the chair.
“What?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
Marcus flinched, his gaze still locked on the floor. “’Twas a sennight ago--”
“Sennight?” Talon roared, rage quickly joining his terror.
“I left immediately,” Marcus cried. “I nearly killed my horse getting here.”
Talon gasped for breath, fighting to keep his thoughts clear, to keep the fear and rage from destroying his sanity. Rose! Dear God, his precious daughter. He couldn’t lose her too. “What happened?” he asked but did not recognize his own voice.
“Mistress Nan took her to play in the gardens like always.”
Talon nodded, his body quivering. Rose loved playing in the gardens when the weather was good.
“Mistress Nan kept a watchful eye but was distracted a moment by a servant with a question regarding the kitchens. When Nan turned around, Rose was gone. We searched, my lord. Every man, woman, and child in Montgomery castle searched the grounds until dark. We could find no sign of her. She simply vanished.”
“Abducted?” Talon could barely force the word through his clenched teeth.
“I know not. But there is hope, my lord. When we could not find her by dusk, I left immediately to fetch you. I might have been premature in coming but I could not delay informing you just in case. ‘Tis possible she has been found during the time it took me to get here.”
Please God, please!
Talon’s heart cried.
Please let them find her alive and well.
His soul recoiled and screamed in agony.
Lord God Almighty, please let me come home to her sweet laugh and joyous smile. Please let me find her sleeping safe in her bed. Please! I can’t lose her. I lost her mother, I can’t lose her too!
Terror gave Talon the strength to rise from the chair. Terror and rage. If anyone harmed her there would be the devil to pay. And Talon would become Satan incarnate.
“Gather six knights to accompany us, Marcus,” Talon snarled. “Fetch yourself a fresh horse and pack light provisions. We ride hard for Montgomery now. The baggage can follow with the rest of the men.”
“As you wish, my lord,” Marcus said, bounding to his feet and sprinting from the pavilion.
Talon squeezed his eyes shut, his body shaking so hard he could barely stand.
Rose, my sweet Rose! Please be safe!
He pried open his eyes, spotting the small cross and prayer candles on the table in his pavilion. He always lit them and said a word of prayer before riding into battle. But this time he dropped to his knees before the cross and prostrated himself. “Blood of Christ and Saints,” he whispered, his voice thick with unshed tears. “I beg protection for my child.”
He rose, straightening his spine. Hardening his resolve, he strode from the pavilion.