Chapter 17
The breakfast fires were lighted and the men were arming themselves and readying their horses. De Burgh mounted and rode off toward the River Trent. Perhaps if he doused himself in the cold river water, he'd be able to shake off the dirty feel of contamination. As he rode to- ward the river the sky began to lighten imperceptibly and for a moment he thought his eyes were playing a trick on him.
d.a.m.n it al to Hel fire, it wasn't his eyes that were playing tricks, it was the wench he'd almost given his heart to who was playing the tricks! She had just emerged from the forest, riding directly in his path, and he had seen her before she had seen him. The moment she spotted him, she jerked on the reins, then wheeled her mount back into the trees. He touched one knee to his war-horse and its powerful muscles gathered then surged ahead, overtaking the smal er horse in less than a minute. He reached out one long arm and s.n.a.t.c.hed the reins from her, bringing her palfrey to a quivering halt beside the heaving, dangerous destrier. He was on the ground before the horses stopped, quickly looping their reins to a tree.
Jasmine lifted her riding crop, but he gave her no opportunity to bring it down. He reached up and wrenched it from her hand with such force she lost her seat and came tumbling down to him in a flurry of skirts and petticoats.
His emerald-green eyes were blazing with anger. He slashed her short, heavy whip against his boots to release some of the anger he felt, for before G.o.d he needed al his wil power to keep from striking her. She had been to meet someone a man and by the divine power of St. Jude he'd know his name now!
"Whom do you secretly meet?" he demanded.
"I was out riding, I saw no one," lied Jasmine.
"That is an outright lie. Whom did you meet?" He slashed his boot again and the sound of the whip was ominously threatening.
She turned her face from him and caught her breath on a sob.
Cruel fingers took a firm grip on her chin. "You wil look at me when I speak to you. Whom did you meet?" he shouted.
"No one," she denied, her face drained of color.
"Don't impugn my intel igence by treating me like some gul ible fool. Tis obvious you've just come from a tryst. Have you been out al night? Did you leave my bed and go straight to his arms?" The questions came swiftly. He took her shoulders in his hands and began to shake her like a rag dol.
"Answer me! Have you no brains? Don't you know these forests crawl with outlaws?"
At his last word her fear became so palpable that suddenly he knew. "Splendor of G.o.d, that's who it is! You lured the information from me last night and you've been to warn him!
You treacherous little b.i.t.c.h." He s.n.a.t.c.hed his hands from her as if he could not bear to touch her and she fel to one knee.
He taunted, "I had no stomach for this hunt, but suddenly it's an event I'm antic.i.p.ating with relish. I hope you measured him for his shroud last night."
"De Burgh, please,1' she cried, "you don't understand."
A jealous anger shot through him. "You plead for him?" He laughed. It was a bitter sound. "I understand, al right. You once told me my children would be b.a.s.t.a.r.ds... like yourself!" he couldn't resist adding.
She recoiled from his words. If she had been afraid for Robin Hood and his men before, it was nothing compared to the fear she now felt for him. De Burgh would have no mercy. Robin had not even taken her warning too seriously. He had laughed and told her to stop worrying. "The forests of Sherwood, Ettrick, and Sheffield cover more than a hundred miles. They won't find hide or hair of us," he had boasted, but stacked against de Burgh's fury and determination they would go down like trees before the ax, like barley in a hailstorm.
Suddenly Falcon heard the king's hunting horn sound and knew he could dal y no longer. He s.n.a.t.c.hed Jasmine up and set her in her saddle.
"Get to the castle. Seek your chamber and remain there!"
He had tucked her whip into his belt and as he untied her reins, she reminded him, "My riding crop, de Burgh."
"I'l return it tonight, after I've flogged you with it!" He gave her palfrey a resounding smack across the rump almost to show her what she could expect at their next encounter.
The day turned out to be a nightmare of frustration for the hunters, and at its end, after cras.h.i.+ng about the vast, deserted forests, a good majority of the men believed Robin Hood to be nothing but a myth. Others, like de Burgh, had different ideas. There had been an uncanny atmosphere present, as if every move they made had been watched.
There were inevitable casualties, poor devils who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. The bodies were tal ied at day's end. An old woman who had been gathering wood. A freeman farmer searching for a lost sow and a young boy who had been setting snares for rabbits, but nary an outlaw had been spotted, let alone bagged.
At twilight just as the hunt was about to be cal ed off, de Burgh had felt the presence of death's angel. At a cry, he turned swiftly in time to see Gervase fal from his horse with an arrow in his back. It had punctured his squire's protective mail, proof that the arrow had been shot at very close range by a powerful longbow. De Burgh knew the arrow had been meant for him, and he gnashed his teeth to think that Jasmine's outlaw lover had almost eliminated him by superior stealth, cunning, and marksmans.h.i.+p. He was off his horse in a flash, kneeling beside his loyal squire. He thanked al the saints in Heaven Gervase had not fal en on the arrow to ram it deeper into the pierced flesh. The arrowhead was barbed, and Falcon knew he needed better light to extract it cleanly from the mangled flesh. The lad was unconscious, saints be praised. Now if he would just live until de Burgh tended him.
He snapped the arrow's shaft in strong fingers as gently as he could and stuck the feathered half into his own quiver.
Perhaps it would provide a clue to its owner's ident.i.ty, though he was already convinced who wanted him dead.
He lifted his friend Gervase in his arms, held him secure against one broad shoulder, and mounted his destrier. The other horse fol owed as he walked his mount careful y back to the castle. He scribbled a hasty note to Dame Winwood, stamped the wax with his falcon seal ring, and dispatched it with a young page.
The boy found the frightening witchwoman scolding two young women who sat huddled miserably on a tester bed. Their eyes were liquid with apprehension as they awaited the day's outcome. This greatly puzzled the page, for the young queen and the other n.o.ble ladies had spent the day playing and laughing and dancing.
Estel e read the note quickly. "De Burgh asks my help... an arrow in the back. Mmm. 1*11 need alkanet and rue," she said to herself as she took out the box containing her medicines and ointments, "and borage for the fever that wil come in the night."
Jasmine's eyes were wide with
Estel e looked at her wisely. "Nay 'tis not de Burgh who took the wound."
Mary-Ann's tongue was loosened by this information. She grabbed the sleeve of the young page and demanded, "What news of the manhunt?"
The page giggled. "It was a mixed bag a pig herder, a rabbit catcher, and an 'owd woman. If you ask me there's no such man as Robin Hood!"
"Wel, we didn't ask you," Estel e said sternly. "Get to the kitchens and get me a jar of vinegar. Take it to Lord de Burgh's tent and don't dal y or I'l have him deal with you."
Relief had washed over the two young women, leaving them almost limp, but Jasmine didn't want to examine her relief too closely. From the sound of things the manhunt had been a colossal failure, almost a joke, and they thanked G.o.d and St.
Jude that Robert had heeded the warning and fled.
Jasmine had dreaded the moment de Burgh would search her out to carry on where he had left off this morning. Though one of his men was wounded and he was busy at the moment, she didn't delude herself into thinking he would not return, perhaps on the morrow, to give her the beating he had promised.
When Estel e arrived at de Burgh's tent, he had already had a bed set up in it for Gervase and was in the process of removing the barbed arrowhead from the mangled flesh. The wound was swol en and angry and oozed blood rather than spurted it profusely.
The young man had regained consciousness for a while, but the pain when de Burgh drew out the offending lump of metal had rendered him unconscious once more.
De Burgh looked into Estel e's eyes. "Thank you for coming,"
he said evenly.
"I want something in return," she said shortly, brus.h.i.+ng aside his thanks.
The page came in with the jar of vinegar. She took it from him and dismissed him sharply. Such sights were not for the eyes of babes. "Hold him while I cleanse the wound with vinegar,"
she directed.
"He's unconscious," Falcon pointed out.
"He won't be," she promised.
De Burgh held Gervase p.r.o.ne on the bed, pressing down upon his shoulders. As Estel e tipped the whole jar of vinegar into the wound, Gervase rose up like a rearing horse, screaming his pain.
"Vinegar has anesthetic qualities. It hurts only in the beginning," she soothed. "Dry it with the linen while I get the alkanet ointment. It wil draw out any poison."
"Good G.o.d, you don't think the b.a.s.t.a.r.d used poisoned arrows, do you?" Falcon asked with alarm.
"Nay, I meant the body's poison that forms in wounds." She spread a thick coat of the ointment, which was made from the red flowers of the alkanet and had an almost pleasant odor.
"His kidney has been damaged. Don't be alarmed if there is a lot of blood in his p.i.s.s." She pointed to the brazier. "Boil some water and wine and I'l put borage in for the fever he is sure to produce in the night. In a couple of days we wil change the ointment to rue. It has a strong, unpleasant odor, but it heals wounds with hardly a mark."
"Then you think as I do, that he wil recover?" he asked gravely.
"Only because I'm here to tend him," Estel e said pointedly.
"Wil you stay al night?" he asked quickly.
She looked at him with her shrewd, hooded eyes and wondered why he asked her. She knew he was capable of nursing his own squire. It must be something very important he had to do to keep him from this duty. "I'l stay. But, de Burgh, if the king goes on to the border shortly, you wil have to leave him here. His kidney won't heal if jarred constantly in the saddle."
"Of course," agreed Falcon.
"I had heard you expected superhuman endurance from your men."
"I expect every last ounce they are capable of; no more, no less." He brought the borage mixture to the bed and touched it to Gervase's lips. "This wil be bitter," he warned gently. Then he looked across at Estel e. "You said you wanted something in return."
She stood up to her ful height. "When we first met you know I was set against your marriage to Jasmine. I have changed my mind. I want you to marry her and get her away from this court."
His nostrils flared. "Perhaps I have changed my mind," he said stonily.
She looked a question. He flung out his arm to Gervase. "I've had enough hurt from her."
Estel e wondered how Jasmine could have anything to do with the squire's wounds. "I thought her beauty enchanted you as no other had," she said quietly.
"She is exceeding beautiful, but stil a woman and therefore treacherous."
"We are stil the better half of the human race," Estel e said staunchly.
"Then may G.o.d help us," he said bleakly.
Chapter 19.
The last thing Falcon de Burgh wanted to do was leave his faithful squire now, when he was sorely needed. But something inside him knew what he must do. He knew in his bones that the outlaw would risk al and come tonight. The lure of Jasmine would be irresistible. Wherever she went, he would fol ow, drawn against his wil by the exquisite face, angel's hair, and tantalizing body. She had a magic power about her that was a siren song. Wel, tonight it would literal y lure a man to his death, he thought grimly as he found a concealed niche beside a stone archway.
He drew back into the shadow silently and prepared himself for the long wait. His mind darted about, touching upon one thing, then another. Why had Estel e changed her mind about him? Perhaps she hadn't real y, perhaps he was simply the lesser of two evils. Jasmine... Jasmine... he had tried to understand that the delicate girl brought up to abhor and despise men would be cold to him, but with patience and determination he had thought she would have warmed toward him. His mouth formed a grim line as he fingered the scar her whip had left on his face. This morning when he caught her sneaking back from her rendezvous with the outlaw she had raised that whip again.
His blood ran cold when he thought of the outlaw. He swore an oath to avenge the wound Gervase had taken for him. His mind conjured a picture of the king and he spat upon the ground. This realm was in trouble. He'd sounded out men belonging to every northern baron and had not yet found one who had any loyalty to John. They had loyalty for their own barons, as he had for Salisbury, but he didn't believe there was a man left breathing in England who didn't despise and hate John for the weak coward that he was. He had inflicted private injuries on many of the barons and members of their families and Falcon sensed revolt coming, perhaps even civil war. The thing he found difficult to stomach was that he'd be on the wrong side in any conflict. Mayhap he'd hand the precious Jasmine back to Salisbury and be finished with the Plantagenets. Mayhap he'd go to Wales or Ireland.
It was three o'clock in the morning before he detected movement high on the wal. His quarry had arrived and was scaling the sheer stone wal of Nottingham Castle with the stealth of a cat. Falcon grunted his satisfaction as he slowly straightened from a cramped squatting position. He need not hurry, he would have plenty of time.
Let the lovers compromise themselves. That way it would be a most interesting coitus interruptus.
Soundlessly he made his way up the four flights of stone steps to the chamber he had paid for in gold. What a fool he had been! De Burgh fingered the knife at his belt with grim satisfaction. He would try to hold onto his temper so that he didn't kil the b.a.s.t.a.r.d. He would take him prisoner, prove to the crown that Robin Hood was no myth, and col ect the reward.
He would have to forgo the pleasure of gutting him in front of Jasmine. Pausing outside the chamber door, he noted the light streaming from beneath it. He unsheathed his knife, feeling a satisfaction at the weight of its haft, and burst through the door.
"De Burgh!" cried Jasmine, quickly putting herself between him and the couple behind her. He swept her aside with his free hand and advanced upon the man before him who was far too good-looking for his own health. He saw that Mary-Ann FitzWalter was present; he had forgotten he had ordered the two women to share the chamber.
The outlaw had kicked de Burgh's knife from his hand in a movement as lithe as a dancer and had drawn his own knife to attack. The two men grappled with each other. De Burgh held his a.s.sailant's wrists in a vicelike grip in a grim struggle to keep from being stabbed. They rol ed to the floor of the chamber oblivious to the cries of the women who were begging them to stop.
With superhuman strength, de Burgh pinned his opponent, just long enough to put unbearable pressure on the other's wrist and force his fingers to release the deadly weapon. Now they were both unarmed, and the struggle grew in intensity. Fists smashed into jaws and cheekbones with sickening frequency.
Neither man ducked the blows, preferring to take the punishment then give it back. They were almost enjoying it!
De Burgh felt a grudging admiration for the other man and knew they were equal in strength and fighting ability. There was one big difference, however. De Burgh had sworn an oath to avenge himself for Jasmine and Gervase.
A scarlet blur of anger blotted out everything in the room until Falcon had his enemy under his control. Then he took the rope the intruder had used to climb in the window and trussed him like a haunch of venison. Falcon's eyes gleamed their victory.
"Robin Hood, I arrest you in the name of the crown!"
Mary-Ann fel to her knees before him, beseeching, pleading, begging. "Lord de Burgh, I beg you to listen to me." The tears streamed down her face and fel onto her hands, which were clasped before her as if in prayer.
De Burgh blinked and glanced at Jasmine who stood by horrified with a look of total condemnation in her eyes. Mary- Ann was almost incoherent. "If he dies, I don't want to live. I love him, please, de Burgh, help us for pity's sake."
In a blinding flash it dawned on Falcon that the outlaw of Sherwood was Mary-Ann's lover, not Jasmine's. A wild elation ran up his spine, fil ing his head and making him dizzy with relief.
Jasmine knew that Mary-Ann's pleas would avail her nothing. If anyone on earth could sway de Burgh, it would have to be her.
She went to him, placed her hands upon his broad chest, and looked up into his battered face. "Milord," she said softly, al woman, a supplicant to his strength, "I would ask your permission to speak."
"I wil listen," he said evenly, his heart doing crazy things inside his chest.
"This is Lord Robert of Huntingdon. He and Mary-Ann were pledged. Then exactly the same thing happened to her as happened to me. She was abducted by a man cal ed Roger de Longchamp while riding in Barnis-dale Forest. Before he could force marriage upon her, Robert rescued her and kil ed de Longchamp, as you kil ed de Belame."
He glanced at the man he had trussed and said with disgust, "The king has made it fas.h.i.+onable to abduct young women."
Jasmine touched Falcon's bruised jaw with a tender finger.
"Our stories are very different from this point on. Milord, you gained the Castle of Hagthorn by ridding the world of such sc.u.m, but Robert was stripped of everything his home, his lands even his t.i.tle because de Longchamp was friend to the king. He was declared outlaw and put to the horn, but men wil not turn him in for the reward. Rather they flock to join him by the hundreds. He has total rule in the forests."
De Burgh accused, "I knew you were there watching everything. I could feel your presence. You shot my squire by mistake when I was the one you intended to kil."
"Nay," said Robert, shaking his head in denial. "The arrow was not mine. Examine these in my quiver. I make al my own arrows from larchwood. The tips are weighted with lead. The feathers from wild birds."
De Burgh examined the arrows and knew the man spoke the truth. "Did you see who shot the arrow?" he demanded.
"It was a man belonging to the Earl of Chester. I know not which."
Jasmine stood on her toes in an attempt to look into de Burgh's eyes. He looked down at her. "Falcon, please, for me, let him go?"