23

 

With the additional men, Captain Radolf’s forces were able to cover twice as much ground as they attempted to ferret out the rebels.

As they traveled, it became increasingly clear just how much the English despaired of the Norman’s presence. Despite the trouble in Ashdown, at least Alex had not felt the blind hatred aimed at them now. Thanks to the Dumonts’ mixed heritage and household, he had been largely protected from the anger and turmoil many still felt. In London, the Norman presence overwhelmed the English townsfolk, making it easier to ignore their resentment. The countryside was different. He was painfully aware there were fewer of his countrymen to help him face down the palpable hostility he encountered in each village. Even Captain Thomas was shunned when attempting to facilitate their efforts by serving as translator.

Shouts pulled Alex out of his thoughts. Hugh and another Norman galloped into camp, his shield bearer barely checking his animal before he dismounted and ran over to Alex.

“We’ve found something.”

Captain Radolf stepped forward. “The rebels?”

Riveted on Alex, Hugh barely spared Radolf a glance.

An inkling of hope spread through him. “Isabel?”

“We don’t know. One of the merchants in Cricklade said a tenant farmer come into town to trade complained of a woman’s screams near dawn but a day ago. The villagers were alarmed and made sure all the womenfolk were accounted for. None were missing. I got directions to the farmer’s to see if there’s more to his story. We haven’t gone yet as I thought you’d want to join us.”

“Indeed. Good work, both of you.” Alex turned to the Norman captain. “With your approval, we would like to investigate this further.”

Radolf laughed. “By all means. I would be a fool to stop you.”

“Thank you. Hugh, fetch Captain Thomas. No doubt he will want to be there as well.”

Hugh nodded.

Alex went through the motions of saddling his steed. Anticipation rushed through him, despite his doubts. It might be any woman, but, that no one was missing from the village kindled his optimism. This report, however unlikely, was their only clue in locating Isabel, and, given the rumored patterns of the rebels, they would have passed through here around the time the English farmer heard screams. If it were Isabel, what did the screams portend? Alex tried to keep from tormenting himself with images of Isabel being tortured or raped, as they were the only scenarios in which he could see his wife crying out in fear or pain. He prayed to God he was wrong.

“Alex, we’re all ready,” Hugh called out. The men waited on their horses.

He nodded in acknowledgment, mounted swiftly and followed Hugh and the others. The ride to the tenant farm was shorter than expected. The farmer waited for them as they rounded the turn in the road, taking a defensive stance in front of his home. The approaching hoof beats must have alarmed the old man.

Alex bid the men rein their horses to a walk and signaled for Captain Thomas to greet the man in English.

He did not attempt to understand their conversation. He had been in England long enough to pick up a few words here and there, but they spoke so rapidly he was not able to discern any of the terms. The Englishman relaxed as Captain Thomas conversed with him, occasionally pointing toward the woods closest to the hut.

“He said it rained two nights ago, and toward dawn, he heard the screams coming from the woods. They only lasted a few moments before it grew quiet again,” Captain Thomas reported.

“How does he know they were a woman’s screams and not a man’s? If the storm was particularly fierce, perhaps it was only thunder that woke him.”

Alex waited as Captain Thomas relayed the questions to the farmer.

“He says both he and his wife were woken up by the noise, but it was not repeated, and they had no way to learn the truth. However, they both agreed it was a woman’s cries.”

Alex took a better look at the territory, surveying the forest just beyond the farmer’s fields.

“Thank him for his time,” Alex said, tossing Captain Thomas a small pouch to give to the man. At his signal, the rest of the men directed their mounts to the woods.

“Look for anything out of the ordinary. Torn clothing, footprints, broken plants. The screams would not have carried far, so keep close to the outer perimeter of the forest,” Alex said as he maneuvered his horse between the trees.

Even if they did come across something, there was no way to know if Isabel or the English rebels were involved. Too much time had passed.

After searching the eastern edge of the forest, Alex heard eager shouts. He followed the cries westward and met up with Hugh and another of his men, who clutched something in his hands.

“Well, what is it?”

Hugh nudged the young soldier. “Show him.”

“Here, sir.” The man-at-arms placed the object in Alex’s hand.

He looked down. A scrap of fabric reminding him of the color and texture of Isabel’s cloak cushioned his mother’s pendant necklace. He clenched his fist over the items and slowly raised his head to meet their waiting faces.

“Where did you find this?”

* * * *

Isabel woke with a start—her body had cried out in warning—only to be hampered by the secure leather thongs around her wrists and ankles and the rope tying them together. She gagged at the ill-tasting piece of fabric tightly secured around her head. She adjusted to the bonds, slow to recognize the pain everywhere at once. Her right eye was nearly swollen shut, and her back and sides ached where she had been hit.

Twisting her head around, she winced as the rebel camp greeted her eyes. Osbert, unconscious with a large contusion along his temple, was trussed up beside her. Isabel felt a pang of guilt he had been caught, but the thought left her when Alric suddenly thrust his face into hers, a savage grin stretching across his face.

“Well, well, my lady. I am so glad you’ve woken.”

Isabel tried to turn away but he clamped down on her shoulders and forced her to look at him. His breath licked her cheeks. She winced as the ground dug into her bruised back and pain flared through her once more.

“I hope I need not remind you how I punish those who disobey me.”

She narrowed her eyes, and Alric’s smile widened.

“You should have let me sample you.” He traced his hand over her curves then rested it on her breast, despite her struggles to avoid him. He smirked. “But you have given me something better with your little stunt, and you have my thanks.”

Isabel grunted as he finally removed his touch and stepped away from her. She did her best to still her rampant heartbeat and struggled to bring more air in through her nose. Alric had not gone far enough away for her liking. She still felt his eyes on her as he conversed with one of his men nearby.

Another soldier-at-arms rushed past her and kicked up dirt into her face as he headed toward Alric. “Sir, Dumont and his men will be here any moment.”

“Excellent. Bring them to me at once.”

Isabel swore to herself. She would be used by Alric as leverage against her brother.

Julien could not argue for her release. Not when Alric and the rest of the men would find him unfit to lead if they thought him sympathetic to her, especially since she had tried to escape and injured some of the men in the process. Her unease deepened as booted feet tramped closer. Isabel wanted to see how Julien had managed on the excursion despite his injury. Her brother and Kendrick stood before the rebel leader, dusty and tired. Neither man looked her way. Julien was pale and sweating despite the chill in the air but held himself proudly. What did it cost him to meet Alric’s gaze head on as if nothing was wrong?

“We brought the supplies you requested,” he reported.

“How many bows?” Alric asked.

“A dozen, plus the two bushels of oats and four sacks of flour.”

“Good. What tidings do you bring?”

Julien shared a glance with Kendrick then said, “Only more rumors of a group of Normans searching for rebels.”

“They were last seen in Bampton,” Kendrick added.

Alric shrugged. “No matter. They have proven to be poor hunters.”

“Their numbers have grown,” Julien said. “I think it would be wise if we break camp and—”

“No. These curs are no match for us. We will stay here until the weather improves. At least another week.”

Kendrick spat on the ground but said no more.

“Where is my sister?” Julien asked.

Alric’s eyes sparkled in the waning afternoon light. “Did you not see her? She is over there with the other prisoner.” Alric pointed toward her, smirking.

“Prisoner?” asked Kendrick as he finally faced her. 

“Sadly, yes. She tried to escape—”

“What have you done to her?” Julien demanded, raking her with his gaze. Isabel felt helpless as he stared, knowing the impossible position he was in. He turned and faced Alric. “I care not if she tried to escape. You had no right to injure her like this!”

“No right? Even if she wasn’t a Norman whore, she deserves every hurt I gave her for attacking me—her and that bondsman of yours.”

“Osbert would have no reason to attack you…” Kendrick looked at Julien and searched his expression. “Unless...”

Red mottled Julien’s face. He took a step toward Alric. “You bastard. How dare you touch her!”

Kendrick grabbed his arm and held him in place. “Julien, don’t,” he said as the older man struggled with his temper.

Alric smiled. “I’ll touch the wench any way I please, Dumont. Although she’s looking poorly right now.”

Isabel’s brother pulled away from Kendrick and stalked closer to Alric. “It’s finished. I’m taking Isabel and my men away from here. You and yours can go your own way.”

“It’s too late for that now. We need to be united against the enemy. I can’t have you and your men breaking ranks over some woman,” Alric stated, coolly appraising Julien’s reaction.

“You do not deserve our loyalty,” her brother bit out.

“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.”

“After I left Ashdown, I fell in with a group of Englishmen—”

“You mean rebels,” Hugh corrected.

Kendrick eyed him with dislike. “You could say that. Isabel’s brother, Julien, was with them.”

“We thought he was dead,” Captain Thomas said with a glance at Alex.

“Yes, I made inquiries on Isabel’s behalf. Reports said he was killed in battle,” Alex added.

“He very nearly was. He was badly hurt at Hastings, but his men helped him escape, and he recovered. When he learned Isabel was to be married off”—his mouth worked bitterly—“he bid his men to get her back. We watched the road to London, knowing you,” he said with a nod to Alex, “would bring her to William eventually.”

“So it was you who attacked us on the road?” Hugh asked.

“Yes, but we did not succeed. Julien was disappointed and decided on a different strategy.”

“Was Isabel aware of this plan?” Alex asked quietly, afraid to learn the answer. He knew her brother had contacted her after the battle at Stamford Bridge. Did he contact her again without him knowing?

Kendrick shook his head. “No. Julien thought he was saving her, but he realized his actions just made things worse for her.”

“How do you mean?” Captain Thomas asked.

Kendrick sighed. “One of the rebels discovered Julien’s Norman heritage and discredited his leadership. Julien lost control over the men to a man named Alric. He has been the one attacking the local villages and killing the Normans stationed there.”

Radolf scoffed. “And we are supposed to believe you and this Julien fellow are innocent of wrongdoing?”

Kendrick glared at the Norman captain. “Our sins are less severe, yes.”

“You said things got worse. How?” Alex demanded.

“Alric ordered Julien and me on a mission, leaving Isabel alone at camp.” Kendrick’s gaze followed Alex as he began to pace back and forth in agitation at his tale. “Alric tried to attack her, but one of Julien’s loyal men prevented it. Isabel managed to escape, but they found her the next day and brought her back to camp. When Julien and I returned, Julien fought with Alric when we learned what happened. Alric won, using Julien’s injury against him. Now they are both captives.”

Alex whirled and faced Kendrick. “Then why are you here? Why have you not helped them?”

“Don’t you think I tried?” the Englishman snapped. “Alric knows you are close to finding them. I came to let you know what happened, and to help you, if you will let me.”

“How can we believe you?” Hugh asked with contempt. “You made no secret of your dislike of us.”

“Hugh is right. Why should we trust you?” Alex said.

Kendrick compressed his lips. He looked up, and Alex could see raw pain and real fear warring for dominance. “Because you know I could not live with myself if something happened to Isabel. I already feel responsible for setting these events into motion.”

Alex watched the Englishman. He was telling the truth.

He relaxed his stance. “What can you tell us?”