Siege Of the Heart (37 page)

“Loyalty? I only need your compliance, willing or no.”

Julien scoffed. “I have heard enough. We are leaving. Kendrick, gather the men.”

Kendrick nodded and moved away as Julien turned his back on Alric and approached Isabel. Behind her brother, she saw Alric loose his axe. No… She should not be surprised Alric was so base as to attack Julien without warning. She shook her head to alert to her brother but he only looked confused.

Something must have made him realize what was happening. He stopped, eyes wide, and reached for the axe strapped to his back. Kendrick shouted in warning and with a muttered curse, Julien released the axe from the worn leather straps.
 

Alric swept his axe blade toward him with all his weight thrown into it. Julien met the strike and pushed Alric off him, pain wrenching his features as he twisted away.

“Alric, only you would be so cowardly as to fight an injured man!” Kendrick shouted before two of the rebel leader’s men restrained him.

Alric waved him off with a sneer and came at Julien again, this time with speed behind him. Julien deflected the blow. His foot slid along the ground at the effort.

Her brother brought up his elbow and jabbed it into Alric’s face, enough to force him away. His stance ready, Julien held his axe in his hands before him and waited for Alric’s next move.

Alric came at him again, no doubt fueled by the knowledge Julien was weakening. He prepared to strike her brother’s left shoulder. At the last possible moment, the rebel leader switched tactics, demonstrating a surprising amount of skill, and struck the opposite side.

Julien could not react to the change in time. Alric’s blade sank into his padded surcoat. The blow forced Julien to his knees with a deep-seated groan. Alric knocked Julien’s axe aside and brutally kicked him in the stomach. He collapsed and was still.

“You bastard! You knew of his injury. That will kill him more surely than a knife to the heart,” Kendrick cried out.

“Silence the whelp!” Alric commanded. His men rushed forward and quickly gagged Kendrick and hauled him away.

Alric leaned over her brother’s prone form and unstrapped her father’s blade from his waist. A guttural growl was all she could manage through the gag as Alric greedily snatched up the priceless sword to replace his worn, secondhand steel. If she ever had the opportunity, she vowed to recover the blade.
 

Alric met her glare, a twist of a smile on his lips, and then he too was gone.

* * * *

The evening meal was long past when Julien finally stirred, and she curled around so she could see him. Face ashen, he struggled to breathe. It took a long moment before he finally looked as if he recognized her. Isabel’s hands had been secured around the front of her body to aid her in eating, and no one had bothered to replace her gag when she had finished.

“Little sister,” he gasped, “I am—”

“Speak not. Save your strength.” Her voice was sharper than she intended in the falling dark.

A ghost of a smile graced his lips. “Too late.” He struggled to sit up, but the effort was too much for him. His breathing was wet, his brow damp. He cleared his throat. “I did not want this for you. I am sorry.”

“Julien, be quiet. I mean it,” she said as if scolding a child. “There is no knowing how badly Alric hurt you.”

“I know.”

The grim tone of his voice infuriated her. How could he be so calm? Had he already given up? She wanted to reach over and shake him. “There could be damage internally. You could—”

“Isabel, I know,” he said more forcibly. “I did not join with Harold unprepared for what war could bring.” He began to cough.

“Please, just rest,” Isabel pleaded.

Julien shook his head as if he meant to argue with her, but the coughing fit would not leave off. Blood trickled down the corner of his mouth.

Helpless, Isabel watched her brother wheeze, his inhalations troubled and slowing. She would not sit there and watch him die. “Alric, I demand to see him!”

Faces around the campfires turned her way in the dark.

“Leave off, wench,” one of the men yelled. “Here, here,” cried another. Their voices echoed across the camp.

“Devil take you! I must speak to Alric now!” Isabel’s frenzied cries brought the rebel leader, Kendrick and other interested onlookers to their side.

“Alric, please let me tend to him,” she begged when Alric came near. “He could die.”

The rebel leader stood there, looking back and forth between Julien and her, amusement lighting his eyes. “How nice. Such sisterly concern. Too bad I cannot trust you.”

“If you will not release me, then let me tell one of your men how to treat his injuries.”

Alric laughed at her before taking another long look at Julien. Blood slipped down to his chin as weak coughs still shook his frame. “My men have their own responsibilities. And they don’t include nursing a traitor back to life.”

“I will tend to him,” Kendrick said as he stepped forward. A bruise had formed along his cheek, no doubt from his scuffle with Alric’s men earlier, but otherwise he appeared to be unhurt.

Alric stared at him before finally nodding. “Very well, but you know what will happen if you defy me. When you are done dealing with this mess,” he said, nudging Julien’s leg with the tip of his boot, “I would have you rejoin the bondsmen in their work.”

Kendrick bowed his head. “As you say.”

Alric and his men stalked back to the campfire.
 

She shifted closer to her brother, hating the bonds that prevented her from helping him. Kendrick would have to be her hands tonight. “Make sure Julien is lying flat. Good. Now, I need you to see if there is maythen, and some mint leaves or the root of masterwort in the supplies. You know what to look for? You will need to crush the herbs between two stones and let them steep in hot water.”

In those tense moments as Kendrick left to locate the ingredients, Isabel did all she could to avoid dwelling on her brother’s plight as he lay beside her. He had finally gone quiet. She shifted, trying her best to get comfortable on the hard ground. The rebels’ laughter ebbed in the night air. When Kendrick returned to her side, the campfires had become glowing embers. He ground the herbs into a paste and added it to the bowl of steaming water he had set beside him.

Once the mixture scented the air, Isabel told him it was time to wake Julien to see if he would drink the brew. Julien roused enough to haltingly choke the infusion down. He grasped Kendrick’s arm and held the bowl to his lips.

“Will it help?” Kendrick asked later in a small voice, after he helped Julien lie down again. Her brother fell to sleep almost immediately.

Isabel shook her head. “I know not. It will help him to rest and soothe what ails his stomach, but I am afraid he is too injured to fully recover. That does not mean we should not try.”

Kendrick nodded. “We must hope God will see fit to spare him.” He turned to face her. “Can I get aught for you?”

“No.” What she wanted was not in Kendrick’s power to grant. “What did Alric say to you earlier?”

A thin smile was barely discernible through his golden beard. “He said if I worked with the bond slaves, I would be allowed to live.”

“That is ridiculous. You are a free man, no matter what Alric says.”

“I will do the work so long as you and your brother are under his control. It is a small price to pay to keep you safe.” He ran an agitated hand through his hair. “I wish I stayed silent on what William intended for you. Julien thought he was rescuing you, but I know he did not want to make your situation worse.”

“I know.” She sighed. “Part of me is glad I am here with him, nonetheless,” she said with a glance at her brother’s slumbering form. “Everything suggested he fell at Hastings. Losing both Julien and my father… I thank God I got to see him again, whatever happens.”

“Are you happy?” Kendrick’s voice was uncharacteristically soft. She looked at him in surprise, trying to bite back the sharp retort that she was miserable, angry with Alric and herself for her capture and terrified her brother would simply waste away beside her. As she met his earnest gaze, she realized that was not what he meant. He was talking about Alexandre. Just like her thoughts, everything seemed to come back to Alex.

Unsure what she could say that would be true to her feelings for Alex but respectful of her friendship with Kendrick, she could only stare at Kendrick. His gaze faltered under hers, and she knew her inability to speak confirmed she was forever lost to him.

“Kendrick...”

“Isabel, I understand. When I saw the way you were with him, I knew. Worry not. He will come for you.”

Isabel scoffed. “Alex no doubt feels he made a lucky escape from me and thinks I abandoned him to join the rebels.”

Kendrick shook his head. “I cannot believe that. Even if he did feel betrayed by you, Alexandre strikes me as the type of man who would seek out the truth.” He paused, barely restraining a grimace. He cleared his throat. “He is an honorable man, Isabel, and you love him for it.”

She did not deny it. She could not. It was true, and she struggled in silence with the knowledge. Alex had laid siege to her heart, and his absence made her realize just how much she had come to care for the Norman knight, how much she wished she had let him know what she felt before they had been torn apart.

“Do you really think he will come?” she finally asked, hating the quaver in her voice and the vulnerability in her heart. She had given up so much when she married Alex. Regret filled her at the thought of never seeing her husband again.

“Isabel, I saw the way he watched you. The pair of you are the closest thing to a love match these accursed circumstances could ever allow. He would take your disappearance to heart and strive to uncover what happened—” He raised his voice when she would argue with him. “I know because I would have done the same thing. For you.”

Tears welled at his words, but Kendrick’s face was devoid of sadness, only calm with acceptance.

* * * *

Alex heard Radolf’s men charging through the brush before he saw them emerge in the clearing, a struggling Englishman between them.

Captain Radolf strode forward. “What do we have here?” He grabbed the captive’s hair and raised his head so it could be seen in the firelight.

“We caught him trying to sneak into camp,” one of the men reported.

Alex growled as he recognized the golden locks of Isabel’s friend, Kendrick. “Get Captain Thomas,” he snapped at Hugh, who stood nearby, before coming to stand next to Radolf.

Kendrick’s gaze found his, and Alex was surprised to see the relief in them. “Kendrick of Ashdown,” he said. “I did not expect to see you again so soon.”

“You know him?” Radolf asked.

“Yes. One of Lord Dumont’s men,” he said with a snarl.

Kendrick tried to shake off his captors but to no avail. “Call them off,” he grunted.

“He speaks French?” the Norman captain asked in wonder before his expression hardened. “You are in no position to make demands.”

Kendrick ignored Radolf, his gaze steady on Alex’s face. “Call them off if you want to know about Isabel.”

Alex locked his hand around Kendrick’s throat in that instant. The young man flinched but Alex was too enraged to care. “What have you done to her?”

“Naught, I swear it,” he rasped out.

“We found this on him.” One of Radolf’s men brought forward a small knife. “He had no other weapons.”

“Isabel’s seax,” Captain Thomas said behind them.

Alex spared a glance over his shoulder to see that the captain and Hugh had joined them. He lessened the pressure on Kendrick’s trachea.

The Englishman’s gaze burned into his. “That is correct. She is being held by the group of rebels you have been tracking.”

“How did she come to be captured?” Alex demanded.

Kendrick’s gaze faltered. “Her brother learned of her fate and sought to prevent it.”

Alex sneered. “And you had nothing to do with that.”

“Julien is alive?” Captain Thomas came forward and laid a firm hand on Alex’s shoulder. Alex reluctantly released the Englishman. “You must tell us what happened,” Captain Thomas said.

Alex looked at Captain Radolf in deference, who grudgingly nodded. The Normans relaxed their hold on Kendrick. Alex stepped back, taking Isabel’s seax from one of the guards to inspect for himself. He recognized the blade’s scrollwork and wrapped handle instantly. He returned his attention to Kendrick. “Speak.”