After yet another sleepless night Brys was beginning to feel the effects of frustration. Deep in thought, he was brought out of his introspection by Haesal saying, “We passed close to the great stone circle that is far across those plains on our journey to Lindum.” She pointed eastwards
Brys stopped. “Stonehenge? I wish our road took us that way.” How disappointing to be so near yet not be able go there.
Haesal glanced his way. “Is that what you call this place wrapped in legends? My father told me the altar was used by Druids to make sacrifices to their gods.”
“It is most surely Stonehenge. The plain is called Salisbury.”
She shuddered. “I found it frightening. There were many lost spirits calling through the blue stones. It was too barren for the fairy folk to dwell there. Even Garth had no desire to linger in the mystical place.”
They plodded on, and late in the afternoon it began to drizzle, which turned into a steady downpour. By the time they decided on a campsite storm clouds shrouded the mountains. To prevent the wagon becoming bogged, Brys ordered it be parked on a patch of high ground.
A gusty wind swept through the valley, blowing leaves and sheets of rain through the camp. The fire was soon doused and everyone’s mood darkened to match the dismal weather. There was little to do but retire for the night.
As the wagon was the only shelter offered, everyone dove under it. But it soon became obvious that nobody would get any sleep piled uncomfortably together like sardines. “I can’t stand this.” Brys crawled into the driving rain and tapped Godwin on the leg. “Come with me.” He’d spotted a jutting cliff a short distance away and headed there.
They crouched low and found a reasonably dry ledge beneath an overhang. “There’s room for some of us beneath here.” Brys scrabbled about on his knees until he found a piece of bark. Handing it to Godwin, he ordered, “Get rid of the animal droppings while I fetch your mistress.”
The bedraggled occupants beneath the wagon looked up as he ducked beneath, saying, “Haesal, Rhoda, Gerald, Saul, and you two.” He pointed to Oswald and Emily, the eldest. “Come with me. I’ve found a more comfortable spot. Fetch the bedding.” Taking Haesal by the hand he dashed through the rain, the others following.
Brys directed Haesal away from the edge of the overhang. “You’d best lie here where the wind doesn’t seem to have sent the rain flying in.” Rhoda and Emily huddled beside her. The water dripping from them soon made the floor of the small cave very wet, but at least it wasn’t so cramped.
Brys stretched out on his pelt, advising, “Best try and get some sleep.” Useless words. If the driving rain and wind whistling through crevices above wasn’t enough, Haesal lying an arm’s length away was guaranteed to give him a thoroughly miserable night.
Long before the first gray streaks of dawn drifted across the sky, everyone was up and about. Bedraggled and soggy, the younger ones squelched along the road. Oswald, being the eldest, was permanent driver of the wagon. Zoe and Emily sat beside him.
The walkers kept up a brisk pace all morning. Wet clothes made Brys uncomfortable and irritable. What he’d give for a hot shower.
In the vicinity of present day Taunton, they passed another crossroads pointing to Durnovaria, which Brys knew as Dorchester. Exmoor stretched to their right, bleak and desolate. On one of their rare holidays, Brys had ridden out on a small pony his father hired from a local riding school.
When he smiled reminiscently, Haesal asked, “What amuses you?”
Waving a hand towards the surrounding countryside, Brys said, “As a child I spent some time in these parts. I recalled how I imagined myself to be a Roman legionnaire, riding across the moors to face the enemy.”
“Did you have a happy childhood?”
Happy? Brys shrugged. “Reasonably so, yes. I was lonely, for I had no brothers or sisters, and my parents spent little time with me.” That might have bothered a more gregarious child. “I suppose it was a blessing, for it left me free to follow my flights of fancy. Books have always been a priority with me—my imaginary friends more real than people. Children in my day spend an awful lot of time staring at the television screen. Remember, I explained that to you? So we have lots of characters to build our fantasies on from an early age.”
Anstred came towards them, warning, “Be on guard.” Her gnarled fingers pointed along the road. “A small band of men are ahead.”
Haesal gasped and Brys pulled his dagger from his belt. This threat jolted them all out of the lethargy they’d begun to drift into.
The tribe, when they appeared, were quite daunting with breast shields of bronze plate, and helmets of tin. All toted a spear or battle axe.
Arms held aloft, Brys hailed them. “We come in peace.” These bands of fighting Britons appearing suddenly, still came as a surprise. “This is the new chief of the Targal clan.” Brys gestured to Gerald, who puffed up his chest.
Their leader, or elected spokesman, stepped forward. “My clan joined Chief Targal in battle in his fight against the invaders.” He looked sad. “Your father was a great chief.”
Brys sheathed his dagger. “Where is your home? Have you traveled far?”
“We live in a Roman Town.” He pointed his finger absently behind him.
Was it anywhere near Cadbury Castle—which Brys suspected was not far away—one of the sites the archaeologists thought may be Camelot, King Arthur’s domain. These men in no way resembled that legendary king and his knights.
Waving an axe, the leader asked, “Would you and your men join us in our hunt?”
Brys calculated they still had a three day journey after Isca, or Exeter, and would need more fresh meat. Whether he relished it or not, it was best to go with these men who obviously knew the area well. He picked Tam, Dafod, and Boyd to go with him, directing Godwin, Fitz, Saul and Egbert to stay and guard Haesal and the others. Anstred was on high to keep an eye out for danger.
“I will go with you.” Brys sighed at Gerald’s petulant suggestion.
“If you wish.” There was no real reason to leave the boy behind. “But you will have to walk as we are.”
For once, the lad dismounted eagerly.
Haesal crushed the urge to call Brys back as he walked away with the tribesmen. When did he become as vital to her as life? Once, when her father took her out in a fishing boat, they were surprised by a sudden storm. Although father was a good boatman, she was terrified as the sea tossed them about like a seashell. That was how she felt now—as if floundering in a storm-tossed sea.
She trusted Brys as she trusted her father, knowing he would bring her safely out of the storm. But she was not so sure of this new feeling of dependence that grew within her.
Brys often said things she didn’t clearly understand. While trying to explain what he meant by this word love one day, he said, “It’s better by far to have loved and lost than never to have loved.” But was that so wise? If she lost him now, she would sink to the lowest pit of desolation. Far down until she disappeared into the darkness. But would she truly have been happier if fate denied her the chance of knowing this man from the future?
When they met up with the hunting party further along the trail, Haesal knew for certain she would never have been happier if she had not known Brys. She could no more stop the welcoming smile than she could stop breathing. The hunters had killed a large stag and a fat boar. One thing she had learned was how he hated to kill any creature, so understood what a great sacrifice he made to hunt.
His wet hair dripped water down his cheeks, and a drop caught in the deep cleft in his chin. She fought an overpowering urge to sup it with her tongue.
Brys watched the emotions crossing Haesal’s face, and his heart flipped. She desired him! Two hours out of her company and he was desperate for her. Dropping his weapon, he opened his arms. She slipped from the horse and came willingly into them, her cheek settling on his chest, her arms going about his waist.
“Brys,” she whispered huskily, “I am proud of my fine hunter.”
After helping the men to carve and pack the meat, their hunting friends took off with shouted farewells. The sun came out as Brys gave the order for the group to move on. Soon everyone gave off a dreadful odor. Haesal changed into dry clothes while they were carving up the carcasses and Rhoda now wore one of her cast off tunics. After Gerald complained constantly about his stained and grubby breeches and shirt, one of the men begrudgingly handed over a pair of breeches Brys suspected he’d stolen at Bath.
Brys changed too. Although getting used to Haesal’s father’s baggy breeches and leggings, he longed for a pair of trousers and one of his fine lawn shirts. And what he’d give for a pair of underpants.
If Morton saw him now, he’d be appalled. Fastidious to the point of obsession, the valet prided himself on his work with an iron, trusting no one else to press his master’s shirts. Morton shared Lady Agnes’ opinions on dress and the pair grimaced when Brys wore jeans or a tracksuit. Brys fingered the new growth on his chin. What would they say about the beard he sported after eleven days on the road? The image of their faces, tight with disgust and disapproval, made him smile.
A twinge of homesickness struck him, but lasted no longer than it took to glance across at Haesal. Anything fate chose to throw at him would be worthwhile, as long as he could be near her.
The gates of Isca were open, and ten strong and capable looking men stood just outside them. As their party neared, all shouted a greeting.
Cautiously Brys eyed them, until Haesal cried happily, “They are our men!”
When she and Gerald dismounted and the travelers were all greeted with gusto, she took the eldest man in the welcoming party by the arm and introduced him to Brys. “This is Henrik, my father’s trusted servant.” Brys took an instant liking to the fellow.
Once Henrik was assured his mistress had suffered no ill effects, he beamed toothlessly, saying, “We have come to search for you.” But then his grin disappeared. “Erik returned, telling us how our master was slain, and the barbarian took you off. We begged Lord Erwin to let us go, so, after picking the best fighting men we set out.” He looked down at his feet. “We buried the master and the others.”
Tears filled Haesal’s eyes as she gripped his hand. “Thank you for that. It offers me a small amount of comfort to know Father is resting at peace, along with his faithful followers.”
Brys was wondering where the steadfast Erwin was when Henrik went on to explain he’d stayed behind to care for the estate. He glanced at Haesal, but she showed no reaction to that news. Perhaps he should reserve his opinion of Erwin till he met the man. “So, now you’re all saved a long, tedious journey. For here’s your mistress and her brother, safely returned.”
Henrik beamed. “Thanks be to God!”
All the men were still thumping each other on the back and boisterously passing congratulations back and forth. What courage it took to set out from Haesal’s home with no guarantee of what they would find. It was a measure of their love and respect for Haesal and Gerald.
“All who know and love the master and mistress give thanks to you for rescuing them.” Henrik pumped Brys’ hand again.
“It was my pleasure.” Haesal’s men were showing him, and more especially, the talisman, blatant interest. “Why don’t we go in and get some rest now.” He placed his hand on Henrik’s shoulder. “Tomorrow we begin the last leg of the journey home.”
Nearby, Haesal, face alight with admiration, stood telling her men about Brys’ fight with Garth. She looked over and beckoned to him. “Brys, tell them about your valiant fight.”
He didn’t know about valiant, but it sure was terrifying. They listened attentively, eyes alight with awe, as he gave them a rough outline of the fight.
Once inside the town gates, Cyrus, Isca’s chief, effusively welcomed them, insisting on providing food and refreshments. While Haesal was shown to her sleeping chamber, Brys went off to bathe and change. They met up again outside Cyrus’s dining hall.
She’d changed into a tunic of silvery silk, with a plaited gold belt at her waist. Pearls adorned the neck and hemline of her tunic, and bands of beaten gold trimmed the wide sleeves. Her hair cascaded in shining glory down her back, its sides pulled back over her temples with bone clips.
“Wow—you look stunning.” Brys couldn’t hold back a small whistle of appreciation.
Her blush ran deep. “I do not understand these words.”
“It means you’re breathtakingly lovely.” Bowing over her hand, he pressed a kiss on her knuckle, which only made her blush more. “I’ve never seen any woman look as beautiful as you look right now.” The last thing Brys wanted was food, but courtesy demand they enter the hall.
Cyrus beckoned them to the huge oak table at the top end. After introductions all round with Cyrus’ close kin, everyone settled down to eat—noisily and heartily. All Isca’s women had obviously pulled out their finest garments. Despite their necklaces of colored glass with chunks of amber crystals or amethyst pendants, not one held a candle to Haesal—the most beautiful women there—possibly in the world.
During a lull in the conversation, Brys turned to her. “You look almost too good to be real. I keep thinking I’m having one of my dreams.”
“I am real enough.” Haesal returned his stare, but only for a moment, then said softly, “You also look very good in the clothes of my father.” He noticed her fists clenched at her waist and hoped it showed she was as sorry to be here in this noisy throng as him and itched to be somewhere private so they could touch each other.
Cyrus spoke to Brys, breaking the spell, so he had to answer. “You have honored us with a fine spread. I sincerely hope your own people haven’t gone without for our sakes.” The table overflowed with platters of roasted beef, sizzling spiced pig, and duck. Many mouth-watering aromas filled the air.
“No one goes without food here.” Cyrus waved a hand. “Our herds of cattle are fat from the moorland grasses. We produce the cheeses you see from our fine cows. We are never short of venison, and grow many root vegetables. The sea fish and shell creatures wait eagerly to be caught.”
Brys sampled the salmon, broiled in a creamy sauce. There was also an abundance of mussels and trout, followed by apple dumplings wallowing in heavy cream. Steering well clear of the mead, he opted for ale and a glass of rich red wine.
Cyrus looked puzzled. “Why do you not try our honey drink? It makes the blood flow hotly through a man. I could find you an eager wench to share your bed this night.” This offer was accompanied by a wicked chuckle.
“My thanks, but I have no desire to share my bed with any woman but this one at my side. The one I’m determined to win.” Brys cast a quick glance Haesal’s way, but she was engrossed in conversation with one of Cyrus’s women on the other side of the table.
Cyrus tugged on his long beard. “Hmm, you will have a fight on your hands there. Erwin wishes to own all the lands, and the woman who goes along with them. The boy Gerald has some seasons to go until he can sit at the head of his table, and ‘til then, Erwin will make sure he gains all the power needed to rule. The best way to gain this is to have Haesal by his side. It is strange that she has not taken this place yet.” He stroked his beard again. “She is ruled by her duty, but he is driven by a hunger for power. I fear there is nothing you can do to change what has been destined.”
Brys grimaced. “There’s plenty I can do, and mark my words I’ll do it.”
Cyrus guffawed at this, then belched, before downing a full goblet of mead in one swallow.
Rhoda and Godwin had long since disappeared, along with Esme, Egbert, Girda and Dafod. Brys squeezed Haesal’s hand beneath the table and bent his head so he could be heard above the deafening roar. “Have you eaten enough? Shall we stroll outside for a while? It’s such a pleasant evening, and the air in here is becoming a bit thick.” That was a gross understatement as almost everybody was drunk after downing the mead. Their table manners were appalling as they belched and broke wind. What with the foul air and their roaring at each other across the room, it had become almost an orgy. Bones and food remains were being tossed to the many dogs prowling about, who fought ferociously over the pickings.
She nodded, and as they both rose, Brys bent nearer to Cyrus. “Thank you for an enjoyable meal.”
Their host guffawed crudely before giving Brys a dig in the ribs that nearly floored him. Catching his breath, Brys put a palm on Haesal’s elbow and guided her from the hall. Once outside, she looked as relieved as he to get into the fresh air.
“I suppose I will have to be lenient with my people.” She sighed. “They are so pleased to see their kinsmen that they have completely forgotten their manners.”
Brys was still not sure what normal table manners were in this time period. “Don’t they usually carry on like that?”
She shook her head vehemently. “My father would never tolerate such behaviour at his table. They will be filled with shame at dawn.” She stopped in her tracks, frowning. “Did you see who went with Gerald?”
Brys had no desire to discuss her foolish brother. “About halfway through the meal I saw him go off with the rather large fellow with the strange rolling gait and the big head.”
Her frown deepened. “The one called Cedric. He is not one of my men. I think he serves Erwin. In fact I have never seen him before.”
Cyrus’s home was built on the lines of a Roman villa. When they reached an enormous oak tree near the main gate, Brys pulled her gently down beside him on the mossy ground.
She still looked thoughtful, muttering, “I wonder where they went? Perhaps we should seek them out.”
As she made to rise, Brys encouraged her back down with a small tug. “How much trouble can they get in? Perhaps he is showing Gerald an animal’s den. I overheard them discussing a horse. You fuss over him too much. If he’s to rule, then he has to learn to stand on his own feet. If that big fellow’s with him, what harm can they get up to?” With a finger he looped a stray tress behind her ear, and she relaxed against the ridged trunk of the tree.
“You are right, of course.” She looked to the heavens. “Look at those lights in the sky—how bright they are. I suppose you know just how far away they are, and what they really are doing up there.”
“Stars.” Brys reached for her hand and linked their fingers. “I could explain all about them, but it would take too long, and right now I have other things on my mind.”
Her head tilted, the look she gave him provocative. “Other things?”
Adrenaline rushed through his body. “If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect you of flirting with me.”
She asked pertly, “What is this flirting?” Her teasing tone was delightful.
“You know very well that I’m busting to kiss you, and I think you’re angling for me to do just that.” With his free hand he traced a path from her brow and down her nose to her lips, where his finger lingered. “Will you be truthful with me for a change and admit that you’re as eager as I am to taste the delights of passion?”
“Yes, I do enjoy being kissed by you.”
Her softly spoken frankness surprised him. Emotion lodged in his throat. “You’re so beautiful that each time I look at you I’m enraptured more and more.”
When his mouth savored her sweetness, Brys couldn’t suppress a groan. She returned his kiss and his fingers tangled in the silken waves of her hair. How soft it was, floating across her shoulders and upper back.
Brys’ heart, as always when so close to her, began to beat its wild tattoo as she swayed towards him. “You drive me wild. Tempt me beyond reason. I’m beginning to believe you are a witch.”
Brys scooped her into his arms and settled her on his lap. God, but it felt so good with her head nestled on his chest. Placing his palm over her breast he waited with baited breath for her rejection, but watched in fascination as her eyelids drooped and her head went back.
His pulse pounded so hard it felt as if it was driving the air from his lungs. “I don’t think you have a clue of the cravings you stir in me each time we’re together like this.” He gasped as her hand at his nape drew him back down.
“How could I? I am but an innocent maiden.” She spoke dreamily. Her golden lashes fluttered as she opened her eyes to stare up at him. “But I do know what you do to me. I enjoy being kissed by you more than anything else I have done in my lifetime. I think it a wonderful pastime.”
Her soft mouth curved in a purely sensual smile that sent his blood pumping through his veins at such a rate he felt as if it would gush out of his ears.
“Pastime, you wretch.” Brys wondered at his inner strength as he resisted the desire to strip her and cover her naked body with his own, have her beneath him. “I think that now you really are teasing me.”
“Oh no, sir.” Lazily she lifted one brow. “I know nothing of how to tease a man.” She combed her fingers through his hair. “Perhaps you could teach me how this teasing is carried out in your time.” Her smile was now wickedly mischievous.
“Some other time, babe.” She giggled at his drawl. “Right now all I want is to hold you in my arms until you surrender to me.”
She was indeed a sorceress, beguiling him with her innocence. Yet she was capable of returning his kiss with such passion that his blood surged hotly. Willingly she parted her lips, and when he pressed her back onto the ground she didn’t resist.
With a shuddering sigh Brys covered her body, his hands exploring her through the soft wool of her garment, palming her breasts and gently kneading. Her lithe body arched and pressed against his as their mouths meshed hotly, making him forgot she was an innocent virgin. This woman in his arms was his dream lover.
“How I want to make love to you.” Pulling back, he gazed down at her and, with a ragged sigh, put space between them—curbing the desire blazing through him. “I promised you a soft bed and all the time in the world to savor the pleasure you so rightly deserve. You’re a virgin, as you reminded me, and your first time with a man should be perfect in all ways—as I intend it to be.”
Brys struggled against the primal instincts urging him to throw all caution to the winds and take what she so willingly offered. “My lips ache to kiss every inch of you. My hands hunger to follow their path. But I want more from you than the simple quenching of lust. I want to lose myself in you—in a sweetness and intimacy I’ve always dreamed of, but never known.”
When her eyes suddenly shot open to stare at him in cloudy uncertainty, he cursed silently, realising he’d gone too far and scared her. As she began to scramble out of his arms he let her go.
“You say I am a sorceress, but I think that you have power over my senses.” She tugged at her skirt and pulled at her twisted girdle. “I behave like a wanton every time you hold me, and my common sense is blown away.”
“Good. There’s no place here for common sense. Just let your feelings have full reign for once. See where your passion takes you.” Ignoring the small voice of reason that nagged at his conscience advising him to slow down, he dragged her back into his arms. But the moment their lips met, a shout came from nearby, and they pulled sharply apart. They jerked to a sitting position as Godwin came running towards them, panting and harassed.
Obviously something was very wrong.
In his distressed state Godwin likely didn’t notice their futile attempts at tidying themselves as they scrambled to their feet.
“I cannot find the master anywhere.” By the light of the moon, Godwin’s usually ruddy face appeared gray.
A premonition of disaster swamped Brys. “Calm down and explain slowly.” He patted the servant’s shoulder. “Have you searched in his sleeping chamber?”
Godwin’s hair stuck out at all angles as he ran agitated hands through it. “I have looked in every part of the house and all around the gardens.”
Brys strove for calmness. “All right, he went off with the man called Cedric. So, if we find him, we’ll learn where Gerald is.” Brys took Haesal by the arm and began to walk quickly back to the main house. Godwin ran ahead to search for Cedric.
An agonizing fifteen minutes later the strange man limped through the town gates and was immediately brought to Brys and Haesal. Blood seeped from a cut above his eye.
Haesal rushed to ask him, “Where is Gerald? What have you done to my brother?” It was obvious she was nigh on hysterical, despite Brys’ efforts to calm her.
“He is hurt, My Lady.” The words tumbled out as his gaze darted everywhere. “He wished to see the wild ponies on the moors. I said it was not safe to go when it is dark, but he told me I am the slave and should obey him. So we went. His foot slipped and he fell down a cliff side.”
“Where…where is this cliff?” Haesal shrieked, shaking Cedric’s arm. “If my brother is harmed in any way, you will be punished severely.” He flinched back as if from a witch chanting an incantation when her fist almost met his nose.
Licking his thick lips, Cedric glanced about nervously. “One of his legs is twisted, so he is unable to move. I left him and came back for help.”
Brys didn’t trust him, and from Haesal’s hard mouth, she didn’t either. Drawing him aside, she said, “I have no trust in this man. Please find my brother. I beg of you.”
How could Brys resist her whispered plea? He mustered a smile, but it felt false on his lips. “I will my love, don’t worry.”
Unfortunately, most of the men were legless after overindulging, so Brys had trouble assembling a decent search party. Only Saul, Fitz, Godwin and Egbert from Haesal’s men were capable of joining them, but ten of Cyrus’s men were more up to it—probably because they were used to the strong mead and ale.
After hastily tending the cut on Cedric’s face, Haesal muttered sourly, “By some miracle his leg seems to have been cured.” Brys had also noticed the limp was now non-existent.
The searchers assembled at the gates. Six men carried torches.
Haesal begged, “Please bring Gerald back safely.”
“We’ll find him.” Brys swallowed his doubts. “It’s useless to advise you not to worry, but please try not to fret. You know you can rely on me.” He brushed a tear away with his thumb as she nodded mutely.
Turning to Cedric, Brys ordered, “Take us to the boy.”
Brys decided they would all be better searching on foot. Cedric had managed to find his way back, so Gerald couldn’t be far away. Guilt sat heavily on him. If anything awful had befallen Gerald, he’d have to take the blame, for didn’t he blithely assure Haesal her brother was safe with this Cedric character?
Godwin was equally ready to accept blame. “I should have been watching for the needs of my master, not been so wrapped up in my own desires.”
Brys gripped his shoulder. “If anyone has to take responsibility, it should be me. Quit blaming yourself.” A streak of lightning zigzagged across the inky black sky. “That’s all we need.” Brys cursed as they trudged along. “Another bloody storm.”
After walking flat out for about twenty minutes, with drops of rain as big as coins pelting down and thunder rumbling across the sky, they were soaked to the skin. Three of the flares were doused, so visibility faded to a few feet in between lightning flashes.
Brys stopped the group to question Cedric. “How much farther? Surely you couldn’t have walked this far from the town.”
Cedric looked about, mumbling, scratching at his filthy mop of hair. “I am not sure. I think we came this way.”
He gasped as Brys grabbed him by the neckline of his shirt, and pulled him about roughly. “Not sure? Well, you’d better think carefully and decide if we go on in this direction or not. I should warn you that if the boy isn’t found soon, and alive, you’ll be held responsible, and I wouldn’t care to be in your shoes to face the wrath of your mistress. Who knows what magic she’ll concoct? After her you’ll have me to contend with. So, you lead us to the boy, or you’ll not live to see the dawn.”
Cedric’s rotten teeth chattered as Brys shook him. Fear replaced the uncertainty in his eyes. Scrabbling at Brys’ hands, and helped by a rough push from Brys, he stumbled away.
As if a thought struck him, he waved a hand. “There were many trees on a hill. And the moon was behind them.” The moon had disappeared completely, leaving the sky inky black. “This way, I think.” After taking a few steps, he changed his mind. “No, it’s that way…Yes, that way.” He squeaked like a scared rat as Brys grabbed him and twisted his arm behind his back.
“Make up your mind, you fool. I have a nasty suspicion you’ve taken us on a wild goose chase. If I learn that’s the case you’ll live to regret it, and you won’t be living too long, I assure you.” He gave Cedric a shove and he tripped as he began to race off.
Obviously he didn’t understand all Brys’ words, but the threat in his tone must have been a spur. “It is over here, yes, over here.” Cedric’s voice held a newfound certainty, as he stopped where the ground fell away.
Peering into the blackness of a ravine Brys just made out a blur of gray on a small ridge. He turned to a very distressed Godwin. “I’ll go down to check if it’s the boy.”
Godwin hadn’t stopped bemoaning his incompetence for allowing his charge to go off with a stranger, while he’d been engrossed in Rhoda. “At least it isn’t too cold, and the boy’s fit.” Brys was trying to comfort himself more than Godwin. Even if it was Gerald, there was a good chance the weather could have killed him, if the fall hadn’t.
Godwin moved to the edge of the cliff. “I will come down with you.”
Brys put a restraining hand on his arm. “No, I can manage better alone. If you slip, I’ll have the worry of rescuing you too.”
Throwing off his sodden cape, Brys touched the talisman before lowering himself over the side. He had to fish about for footholds on the slippery rock, but as he got lower it became easier. Calling Gerald’s name constantly, he heaved a relieved sigh when he heard a small cry. Then he saw the young man huddled on a ledge.
Biting out an oath, Brys went down on his haunches beside Gerald and gingerly turned him over. “It’s all right, I’m here. You’ll be fine in no time. How did you manage to get into such a mess?” Satisfying himself no bones were broken, he used the hem of his shirt to wipe Gerald’s face, revealing a long gash down one cheek, and a split on his bottom lip.
Gerald whimpered like a wet kitten. “I cannot remember.”
As Brys put an explorative hand on the back of his head, Gerald flinched. “Not to worry, we’ll have you out of this in no time.” As gently as he could, Brys positioned Gerald over his shoulder and then drew a deep breath. Although thin, the lad was a ball of muscle, and Brys needed all his stamina for the upward climb. As they were being hauled over the edge, Brys was convinced the talisman played a major part in giving him strength for the climb.
All talking at once, the men crowded round Brys. Placing a hand on Godwin’s shoulder, he said, “He’s fine, apart from a few scratches and cuts.” Wiping tears away, Godwin knelt beside Gerald and touched his master’s face.
It took less than fifteen minutes to get back to the town. Brys couldn’t hold back a caustic comment to Cedric. “It’s a pity you weren’t so certain of your whereabouts when you were taking us out there.”
Cedric shrugged his misshapen shoulders. Brys would watch Cedric very closely from now on. Something else puzzled Brys. Why hadn’t Anstred warned him or Haesal, Gerald was injured? It occurred to him that he hadn’t seen her since they’d arrived at Isca.