Siege Of the Heart (33 page)

“Can you stand? A walk will help.”

The soup the night before had done wonders, and her muscles nearly screamed at the prospect of some exercise.

Julien extricated her from the frost-covered blankets but left her ankles hobbled. She was relieved when he moved to untie her hands behind her back, but those thoughts were dashed when he bound them together in a more comfortable position in front of her body.

Julien led her around the camp in silence. In the new dawn, many of the men still clung to the last few moments of sleep. Last night, she had not been able to make much out of her surroundings in the dark, especially considering her weariness, the residual effects of the herbs in her system and the surprise of finding Julien back in her life. In the morning light, however, her brother’s exhaustion was even more apparent. Pain etched his face and affected his carriage. Stiffness marred his step. He must have been injured at some point and either the wound had not yet healed or not healed correctly.

“Where did you get hurt?” Her brother was not the type of man to let an injury hold him back.

Julien ignored her as he helped her pick her way around the perimeter. She could see him working out his answer in his head and suddenly knew he was worse off than she had thought. Finally, he faced her. “No matter. It’s only a scratch.”

“You should know better than to lie to me. How long have you been feeling ill?”

“Since some Norman slashed into my stomach.” She winced at his tone. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I stopped him, all right? Stopped him from killing me. I managed to take cover with some of my men who knit me back together. By then it was too late. The Normans claimed their victory. So here I am.”

He would not meet her eyes. “I’m all mended,” he said through his teeth. “Worry not, little sister.”

“That is no mere scratch. Let me look,” she said softly.

“No, Isabel, I already told you—”

She came to a swift halt, and Julien stumbled slightly. Anguish wrapped around his features at his abrupt movement.

Isabel shoved aside his tunic, ignoring his protests and the awkwardness of the ropes holding her wrists together. Sooner than expected, Julien gave up trying to prevent her perusal.

Crisscross scars interrupted the smooth skin across his lower belly. This was no trifle. His insides had been nearly gouged out. The wound had indeed closed, but the discoloration and swelling spoke of something far more ominous. Isabel did not miss the pained intake of breath Julien made as she gently probed along the wound. Fear settled into her heart as she measured with her fingers what had to be one of the worst injuries she had ever seen.

“Julien, tell me they used yarrow when they dressed this.”

He must have sensed the panic behind her words, for he pushed her hands away and dragged her down the path, a hand firmly directing her by the elbow, the other covering his stomach with his tunic once more.

“I cannot tell you, for I do not remember.”

If he had not been driven into unconsciousness by the injury, any attempts to sew him back together would have knocked him out. Now, though, he was far too active, given his weakened state. Being forced into hiding and traveling the countryside did not leave much room for respite or proper hygiene. “You should take more time to rest. You are still healing and—”

“I have healed enough.”

“But—”

“Enough! Naught can be done at this point. The men here, they are my men and they need to be led if we are to ever take back what is ours. I cannot do that from a sickbed.”

Tears stung behind her eyelids. He knew it was bad. He did not need her to confirm it.

“If these are your men, then who is Alric? Why do you need his approval to let me free?” she asked.

The tension building in her brother’s frame told her he was close to losing his temper, but she could not afford to waste any more time wondering what was to become of her.

He looked up at the bare tree limbs splayed overhead. “Alric of Evesham and some of his men joined up with us after Hastings,” he said with reluctance. “They have been useful on some of our raids and in identifying people who will harbor us. But when he learned of our father, he would turn the men against me, thinking me no better than those conquering barbarians.” He faced her. “And he has nearly succeeded. With my injury, I can do naught to challenge him. So to keep the peace, that is why I do not tempt him further by granting your freedom. And even if I could untie those ropes without fear of recourse from him, I am not sure I would. How would I know you would not go running back to the bed of your Norman lover?”

What could she say to that? Finding Alex was indeed first and foremost on her mind, assuming he still wanted her. She had a place in the new country William was trying to build, a place her brother and his companions would condemn her to hell for. Men like her brother would not give up their aspirations for independence. She understood their sentiments, but she could not condone them when the country was in desperate need of peace.

She shook her head. “Julien, you know not the trouble I caused Alexandre and his men when they came. He probably thinks I ran of my own free will and has lost whatever trust he held for me. If I were to return to him, there would be no warm welcome.”

Julien must have sensed her melancholy, for he stopped their progress, forcing her to face him. “Do not tell me it is true?”

She looked up at him in surprise, not understanding his implicit question or the sharpness of his tone. “What?”

“Do not tell me you actually care what this man thinks about you! He is a thieving Norman who killed your people in cold blood.”

“I know who he is better than you.” She tried to shake off his hands, which suddenly gripped her with frightening intensity.

Julien sneered. “Don’t even try to defend him. Or yourself. You, who rejected every Englishman who would have you.”

“That is not fair! You know I could not accept any of the men presented to me. Before we recount their arrogance and abuses, remember that they would expect me to be happy with naught else than knitting in my solar and dandling children on my knees. I would rather die than live with those kinds of restrictions.”

“And what makes you think this Norman is any different?”

“Because he wants me to be involved. He seeks out my advice and respects my opinion.”

“No doubt this was all before he bedded you,” Julien said with a harsh laugh. “He trapped you, make no mistake. Now, with us, you have an opportunity to start over.”

“You may be indifferent to your change in fortune, but I cannot be. I will not leave our people, Matilde, or even Captain Thomas. By remaining with Alexandre, I can help our people transition to William’s rule, protect them and make the changes as painless as possible.”

He scoffed. “Too late for such noble sentiments, sister. By your own account, you’ve already lost Alexandre’s trust. Even if he were to come galloping to your rescue, your very presence here with me and my men casts further suspicion on you.”

“Yes, but how will those thoughts change when he realizes I have been kept a prisoner here this whole time? He may be Norman, but stupid he is not, Julien, and you would do well to remember that if he comes.”

“If, Isabel…if.” He shook his head, lips curled in disgust. “I still cannot believe you have come to care for this man. To him, you are merely a spoil of war, naught more. And yet you stand here defending him. I will hear no more about this, do you understand? You are with us now, and naught will change that.”

Isabel held his angry gaze for a few heartbeats before turning away in defeat. She did not want to fight with Julien when she had been granted a second chance to be with him. However, his assumptions about her relationship with Alexandre, while not surprising, still troubled her and fed into her doubts. Mayhap, before this had happened, she and Alex had a chance to actually be happy. Now, though, she could not even be sure he would try to find her.

She changed the subject. “What about Father?”

A look of pain flooded his face. He gritted his teeth and met her gaze. “He rests at St. Bride’s. I was able to convince the clerics to properly see to his body.” He pressed his lips together momentarily. “He asked me to watch out for you, and I gave him my oath. I carry his sword now.” He pulled the broadsword halfway from its sheath, enough for Isabel to recognize the pommel and scrollwork at its base.

Isabel absently wiped her eyes on her cloak with a shrug of her shoulder. She was too heart-sore to mourn her father again. She let her brother finish leading her around the camp before he returned her to her nest of blankets.

“Do not forget your oath,” she whispered.

He left her without another word.

21

One of Captain Radolf’s scouts intercepted them before nightfall and led Alex and his men to their makeshift camp in a small forest clearing. Since Aylesbury, Radolf’s ranks had swelled to nearly two-dozen Norman soldiers.

The captain greeted them, “What brings you here? Last I heard you were headed to London.”

In the dark, Alex had difficulty deciding whether or not Radolf was surprised to see them again so soon. “That is correct. We just came from there but a few days ago on our way back to Ashdown to the west. However, the Lady Isabel, who traveled with us, disappeared that first night on our return trip.”

“Was this the pretty lass who was with you when we met at the inn?”

“Yes. We tried searching for her but the trail went dead outside Chalgrove. We heard rumors of the rebels and thought they might be involved.”

“So you think she was kidnapped?” He was silent as he mulled things over. “How do you know this woman did not run away? She is just an English wench, no?”

Captain Thomas tensed beside him, but Alex trusted the man enough to hold his tongue. Alexandre leaned forward. “Lady Isabel, daughter of Lord Bernard Dumont of the Dumonts of Normandy, is not just an English wench. Nor did she run off, that I’m certain. Someone took her away…from me.”

The captain’s eyes widened at Alex’s possessive claim, but he made no comment as he continued to survey Alex and his men.

Captain Thomas cleared his throat. “We were told by monks in Chalgrove you were tracking the rebels who attacked them.”

The captain nodded. “True enough. We have been close to catching the fiends a number of times, but they know this terrain, this land, too well. They disappear on us no sooner than we see them. But we’re getting closer, aren’t we, boys?” he asked heartily of his men around him.

Alex waited for the men’s eager affirmations echoing around the clearing to die off before speaking again. “How many are there?”

“It is difficult to tell,” Radolf said with a sigh. “We have received reports survivors of the English army are traveling to the coast, sailing north to Norway rather than acknowledge William as their king. But many have stayed behind, hiding themselves in the English countryside like the animals they are. They split up, attack multiple towns and villages simultaneously, and retreat in different directions if challenged. Look at this.”

He pulled out a rough map of the area indicating the raids that had taken place over the last few weeks. “You can see almost all the attacks have taken place south of Oxford in roughly a twenty-five mile radius of here.” He pointed out the village of Bampton. “They must have connections with some of the locals to keep them supplied. We think they have someone spying on us as well so they can stay abreast of our movements. But they are getting careless, and it won’t be much longer before we’ll get them.”

Alex spared a glance at both Hugh and Captain Thomas. Hugh’s brow furrowed as he studied the map. Captain Thomas gave him a nod subtly endorsing whatever Alex decided to do. Although there was only one real choice.
 
Alex faced Radolf. “By your leave, we would offer our services in locating the rebels.”

The captain let out a mirthless chuckle. “I see no reason to refuse your request, but I must tell you there have been no reports of a woman traveling with the group.”

“I understand, but right now, these outlaws are our only lead in locating Isabel.”

“May I ask why this woman is so important to you?”

“William granted me Dumont’s lands in exchange for marrying his daughter.”

Comprehension dawned on the captain’s face. “Well, then I hope it is not a fool’s errand. Your men should rest now for we will break camp just before dawn.”