The Mercenary's Claim (9 page)

“That’s why it worked,” Kirsten said when Wern had gone. “No one would expect it.”

The driver laughed. “Nor does no one think to turn loose a fine carriage as that one was.”

“It was too bad we couldn’t use those horses.”

“If we’d took them horses, they’d know we was about here somewheres. Leaving them beasts there makes it look like we got tooken or shot or some such.”

“But how did Wern get that horse he was riding?”

“He waits near the carriage, he does, or I miss my guess. With them horses still there, looks right strange and all, something to investigate, so it is and somebody does. Investigate, I mean. Then out jumps old Wern and gives an ambush to the ambusher. That’s one villain what won’t be needing of horses no more.”

“You mean Wern attacked… but he could have been hurt. How could he know the man would be alone?”

“He cain’t be knowing that, my lady. He takes his chances like we all does.” The old man laughed again. “Time were when I were fit for such duty, I were, and all. Now, these old bones… ”

“Are up a tree,” Kirsten commented. “Old bones are obviously quite serviceable, and I thank you.” She didn’t know where that came from. Perhaps it was the ridiculousness of their situation or the closeness of fear, but she was beginning to see the sacrifice that service might mean and the loyalty of those who served her husband. It only seemed right to praise him. It seemed to her as she did it that she had heard her father and mother say similar things to their servants and soldiers. It gave her something to think about as she waited for Wern to return.

When he came riding down the road, he was trailing two horses and a trickle of blood.

* * *

They rode on, up the narrowest paths Wern could find, circling cautiously but eventually heading toward the lodge that had been their original destination. Kirsten had fretted about the horses still hitched to the carriage, but Wern assured her that they would come to no harm. He hoped they might even be able to recover them eventually, after their ordeal was over since Varin’s men were familiar with the area and would steal them back from whoever released them from the carriage. The shadows were growing underneath the forest canopy and Kirsten found herself feeling very grateful that the weather had turned warm enough to allow for comfort. She would have enjoyed a long ride in the gloaming, if only her husband had been by her side and unknown enemies hadn’t been at her back.

Wern was leaning further and further over his horse until Kirsten feared he would fall off. She called out, in a carrying whisper, “We have to stop! I can’t go on.”

Both Wern and the driver halted, one on either side of her but facing opposite directions so as to make sure no one could sneak up on them to attack or observe. The driver dismounted quickly, helped Kirsten dismount, and then took a defensive position to allow Wern to get off his horse. Kirsten helped support him as he stumbled to a tree and sat down with his back against it. “Now tell me what happened,” she demanded.

“We can only stop a moment. You wait here while I scout the lodge.”

“We’re near?” she demanded. “Why didn’t you tell me.”

“Can’t risk calling out. We must be very careful.”

“But why? I thought we’d be safe once we reached the lodge.”

“We will be, if Gustav is indeed waiting for you where the letter said he would be.”

Kirsten thought she understood. “You mean this may have been a trap from start to finish?”

“The thought had occurred to me,” Wern said on a gasp. “We haven’t… seen any of the usual… guards patrolling the woods.” Exhausted from the effort of speaking, Wern fell back.

“You’ve been hurt. How did it happen?” Kirsten tried to push his jerkin up away from his chest, but Wern wouldn’t let her.

“The rider of our… third horse took exception to my… borrowing it, is all.”

The driver chuckled. “I’ll just wager he did. Easy, now. My lady looks to be knowing her way around a knife wound.” He pushed aside Wern's hand and held it so that Kirsten could press her kerchief to the gash in his side.

“I’m more used to treating sword wounds, but blood is blood.” She stopped for a moment in her ministrations and looked first at Wern, then at the driver. “And you’ve shed yours for me, or at least risked it. I won’t forget it.” Then a thought occurred to her. “I don’t even know your name.”

Wern groaned. “Kirsten, please, just get on with it. This thing hurts like the very devil himself were sticking his pitchfork in my side.”

“I can’t stitch it here. I’ve no needle or anything. We need to keep pressure on this cloth.”

The driver stood for a moment and returned with a thin leather strap he had obviously just taken from part of his horse’s tack. “You wraps this and I’ll be tying it off for you. You just says how tight.”

They soon had Wern set as well as could be done in the forest with no supplies on hand. “That will have to do for now,” Kirsten muttered. “But he shouldn’t ride very far.”

“Tain’t very far to that lodge now. You stays here quiet like and I’ll be going up to see what’s what at the house.”

“Be as quick as you can.”

“Has you got you a knife?”

“I do, yes,” Kirsten replied. “And you? Do you have a weapon at all?”

The driver grinned at her and opened his coat. “There. That done for a knight once, did that one.” Turning to show her his wide leather belt, he folded a section of it back, revealing another blade. “And this one done for three men at one go. Three against one, it was. That was a few year ago, but still, I gots what counts.”

“I still don’t know your name.”

“My name? Why, it’s Driver. Nobody calls me nothing but that in so many long year gone by, I forgets what else I ever were called. Driver be good enough for me.”

“Well, then, Driver, good luck.” She listened as he made his way through the trees on horseback, allowing his mount to pick his own way, no doubt.

The evening hush was suddenly broken by a shout. “What’s that over there? I see a horse! It’s got to be them!” Then came the distinctive sound of a lone horse turning abruptly away from the lodge and crashing through underbrush. It passed by her in the distance, followed by more thrashing and shouts of pursuit far behind.

Kirsten knew what she had to do. She scrambled up onto a fallen log and quickly mounted her horse, then set out as if in pursuit of Driver. When two strangers overtook her in a clearing, she screamed as convincingly as she was able. One of the men grabbed the reins of her horse while the other positioned his steed in front of her so that she could not bolt.

“Well, my lady,” said the taller of the two, clearly the leader. “Where are you going? The lodge is this way. And where are your guards? Where is your escort?” He leered at her so insultingly that she had no hope that she could play out the charade of going willingly to the lodge in expectation of meeting her husband.

“They were killed and dumped in the lake about an hour ago,” she said through gritted teeth. “You would do well to treat me with respect or risk incurring my father’s wrath. Have you any idea who he is? Who I am?”

“Oh, yes, indeed, my lady,” the taller one answered. Swinging her mount around with his, he headed back toward the lodge. “I know who you
were
and I know who you
are
. And so does my liege,
Sir Gregor
. I’ll take you to him now so you can discuss old times, shall I?”

Kirsten thought quickly and decided her strategy. Cringing and sobbing, she shook her head, but offered no resistance as he led her to the lodge. She could only hope that Driver had the good sense to go for help so that all her efforts to help his escape wouldn’t go to waste.

* * *

Inside the smallest guest bedroom, Kirsten waited, her hands bound in front of her, but her legs still free. She had spent the last few hours fretting and praying that Gustav would come soon and find Wern. Self-doubt gnawed at her. What if harm should come to him because of her actions? The night was mild and he had a weapon to defend himself against wild animals, but he had lost a lot of blood. Still, she had been so afraid the enemy would simply kill him on sight that she could not let him be caught, even if it meant his spending the night alone in the wood.

She whirled when she heard the door latch open. “Ah, Lady Kirsten.” Gregor made her a mocking bow. “How nice to see you again.”

Putting on a miserable expression, Kirsten sniffled before she cried, “How c-could you d-do this to m-me, Lord Gregor? Wh-where is m-my husband? Wh-what do you w-want with m-me?” Her sobs overtook her voice and she hung her head.

Gregor grunted in disgust. “Sniveling, hysterical women! Calm down, girl. You won’t be hurt. It’s a ransom I’m after.”

“Y-you’ll have it! Of-Of course, you’ll h-have it. Wh-whatever you want! J-just please don’t… don’t hurt m-me!”

“Thought never crossed my mind. At least not until you started that caterwauling. Makes a man sick to hear you. If you don’t stop, I may have to reconsider.”

“B-but my h-hands, My L-Lord. They hurt! P-please, untie m-me!” Her wail cut through the night.

“Anything. Just close that yap of yours.”

She sniffled, but more quietly. He came over to her and drew his knife to cut the bond. As she sat rubbing her chafed wrists, he went to the window to look out. She noted that he looked to the north, but of course there was nothing to see in the pitch black. He rattled the latch, which held firmly, then turned to say, “You’re twenty feet up, my lady. No use trying to escape through here, even if you could get the casement open.”

“Escape? Wh-where would I g-go?”

“That’s right. This was your father’s hunting lodge, but I doubt you know your way in or out of the area. So just lie down and get some sleep. I don’t want your father to think I’ve been beating you when he comes to pay the ransom. He’ll be in enough of a temper when he realizes it’s his old nemesis who’s behind the disappearance of his spoiled little daughter.”

She watched him leave and heard him throw the bolt that had been newly added on the outside of the door. She continued to whine and moan for effect but after a reasonable interval, she went to the hearth and pulled out a stone from the low wall in front of the fire. She removed several stones, quickly and silently, until the pile was large and the opening was wide enough to admit a small slim person such as herself underneath.

Once she was inside, she pulled the stones back into position in the order she had memorized as a child when the family had come to this lodge for various hunting outings. In good weather, she had enjoyed practicing archery with her mother, but on rainy days one of her tasks had been to learn all the locations of the entrances to the escape tunnel and how to access them and then close them up after herself, in the dark, leaving no trace. She had thought the training a boring waste of time when she was a girl. Now, as a young wife, she silently thanked her mother for all the years of preparation.

She made her way along the stone lined passageway. It was slow going because the tunnel, small by design, was meant for defense. An enemy following could not move quickly. Only those who knew the pattern and the marks on the walls could traverse the length of the lodge without getting lost and blocked. There were also weapons attached in the corners at strategic turns where an ambush would be most likely to succeed, but since she knew no one would be pursuing her, she only took one out of its holder and kept crawling. Crawling was the easiest way to move in the passageway without the risk of suddenly banging one’s head on a well-placed trap meant for the unwary invader.

When she reached the end of the tunnel, she used the knife to cut through the leather wall that blocked the exit above her head and then pushed through a layer of dirt a foot thick so that she could emerge from the tunnel into the night. Peering around cautiously, she made sure she was alone, then pulled herself out of the tunnel exit and piled leaves over some sticks she cross-hatched over the hole so that it would be difficult to spot. She wanted Gregor and his men to wonder what had happened to her, keeping her escape route a secret if at all possible. One never knew when it might come in handy again.

Her first job was to find a clearing where she could look at the night sky. Again, she had cause to thank her mother’s careful tutelage. What had seemed to her to be meaningless drudgery in learning the patterns of the stars was turning out to be life-saving information. She oriented herself with no difficulty and set out to find Wern.

When she arrived at the location where he should have been, she wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or despondent. Wern was gone. She was sure she had the right place, since she was able to see in the pale pre-dawn glow. There were horse tracks and blood soaked into the ground where the stricken man had lain, but no sign of which way he had gone.

Then Kirsten began to think. If there were no tracks of a man walking away from the site and Wern, for all his many talents, couldn’t fly, it only stood to reason that he had to have been carried off on a horse. She felt her heart leap. She had not heard any sounds of another capture and she was sure she would have heard celebration if that had occurred. In fact, Gregor probably would have taunted her or questioned her about the lie she had told if indeed anyone had been caught. The only other explanation was that her husband was near. Kirsten almost whooped in triumph until she realized she was far from being rescued. She hastened away from the site as the sky lightened at an alarming rate.

Chapter Six

The early morning chill soon burned off and Kirsten found herself perspiring in the heat as she pulled her snagged dress from another blackberry bush. She felt that keeping off the paths was safer and several times heard men on horseback pass by, probably searching for her, but she had played in these woods too often as a child to be caught easily by a bunch of strangers.

She was making for the lake, the only plan she had been able to come up with in the night. Hoping that Driver had made contact with Gustav, she headed as best she could toward what she hoped was the spot where they had waited while Wern had acquired their mounts. The journey that had taken only an hour or two on horses took her all day and by the end of it, she was famished. Gregor’s men had given her some water when they had locked her in the bedroom, but nothing to eat.