The rosy hue of early morning sun lit the dawn before Henry reached an old abandoned mill. A torch had been put out and left stuck in the ground. The tracks revealed many people had congregated here not long ago. His heart skipped a beat when he saw blood on the ground. There had been no blood on the trail along the way. There was no sign of the nun or his daughter. Perhaps he was on the wrong trail.
He dismounted and led the horse down a gentle slope to the water to drink. Sinking to his knees, he also quenched his thirst. His muscles protested every movement. He couldn’t afford to rest long. Not if he wanted to catch up with his quarry. There had been two sets of prints he’d followed here. By their small size, he suspected both were women or youths.
Tugging the horse’s head up from the tender grass where he grazed, Henry remounted and searched the clearing again for signs of the ones he’d been following.
“There!” His voice disturbed the silence and sent a flock of starlings fleeing the trees in mass, squawking in loud protest for being disturbed. Startled, Henry’s mount danced sideways, tensed then bucked stiff-legged. Henry fought for control to calm the animal. His body protested the hard pounding, jerks and twists of the frightened horse’s actions. The abuse to his injured torso beaded his forehead with sweat and loosed more aches and pains. His ribs burned and his head pounded with every heartbeat. He spewed a few choice words before he got his temper and the frightened animal under control. Anger at the stupid beast was pointless. He had to find the nun. Losing control now was not an option if he wanted to save his daughter.
In spite of his horse’s hoof prints marring the area, he spotted several sets of footprints. One group of people had set off in one direction, but the shoe print with the slight indent on the heel was the one he sought. Its wearer went the opposite way, down a narrow trail. The worn path meant he could press the horse to go faster. He would catch up with who he hoped was the nun and her friend.
Providing he was actually following the nun. He ignored the doubt that had plagued him from the start of his quest and pressed his heels into the bay’s side. His precious Evangeline had often told him when he wrestled with a hard decision to always follow his heart. Everything within him urged him onward.
Decision made.
At the sound of a horse galloping on the trail behind them, Evangeline and Helen slipped through the foliage and hid. They couldn’t see the rider from their location, but then he couldn’t see them either. Had Fisher acquired a horse? The rider continued on without slowing.
Fear pressed Evangeline to increase her pace in spite of her exhaustion. It had been a long night without food or rest.
Remaining on alert for more travelers, they hurried toward the inn. They reached the Black Swan but stayed hidden in the tree line as they drew closer. A large group of villagers stood outside the entrance murmuring amongst themselves.
Evangeline and Helen made their way around to the back and slipped inside. It took a few seconds for their eyes to adjust to the darkened interior of the back storage room.
“Have you seen a nun and child come this way?” A man demanded as if he were out of breath yet someone in authority.
“No nun.” Several started talking at once.
Evangeline and Helen edged toward the doorway that led into the great room of the tavern and peeked inside.
“Henry!” Evangeline’s gasp of alarm was lost in the roar of the crowd, as if each patron tried to have his voice heard. Helen grabbed her arm and frowned. She put a finger to her lips for silence. Evangeline nodded then turned her attention back to the scene before them.
“Enough! One at a time.” Henry pointed to a younger man standing closest. “You. What happened here?” He pointed to a fat man and woman lying dead on the floor covered in blood. “Who are they?”
“That there’s Ox, the tavern owner.” The youth pointed to the dead man.
“Got his just reward, he did.” A disgruntled man shouted from near the entrance. Others murmured agreement and disparaged the evil deeds of the dead person even as they crossed themselves.
Evangeline suspected by their actions, they were hoping to cancel any retribution from his accursed, departing spirit.
“I ain’t sure who the dead woman is. It ain’t his wife.” The young man turned toward the crowd. “Anyone know this chicken-legged wench?”
“Nope. Not old Ox’s pretty little wife.” A white-haired man with one tooth grinned then wiped his mouth. Chuckles erupted through the crowd.
“This ol’ crow and a couple of youngun’s been livin’ at widow Kutley’s cabin helpin’ her slop the hogs.” A humped back old woman, bent over with age in a perpetual inspection of the ground, pointed a gnarled finger at the corpse.
“And helpin’ herself to anythin’ what’s not nailed down.” Another voice yelled from the back of the room. Others chimed in with accusations against the woman.
“But what happened to these two?” Henry raised his hand to restore order.
“The king’s guards had just left the inn headed toward the castle, when a man with an eye patch rode up.” The young man who’d first offered his help stood straighter as all eyes turned to him. “He looked angry and mean.” He tried to demonstrate with snarled lips and clenched fists.
“Maybe he be the Fox.” Others chimed in with speculation and questions.
“I be thinkin’ the same.” He raised his hand for silence as he’d seen Henry do. “I was outside ready to leave, but the way he stomped into the door made me turn around and go back inside. I figured iffen it was the Fox then there was goin’ to be some excitement.” After more murmurs settled down he continued. “I sat right over there and saw it all.” Everyone turned to look at an overturned table in the corner. His voice grew more confident. “The man yelled, ‘I want to talk to the innkeeper.’ Old Ox wasn’t happy with the man’s tone and told ’em so. The stranger shoved old Ox down onto a chair. He drew a knife and poked it against Ox’s chest.” Gasps of the crowd made the youth smile.
“Aye, I saw that, too.” An ancient seaman with a peg leg leaned on his crutch and pushed through the crowd. His stench was bad and the crowd retreated a few steps and let him pass.
Evangeline got a whiff and grimaced. She knew the man from his many ailments which had brought him to the abbey often to be treated. He did odd jobs from grave digging to skinning and tanning hides, which accounted for the smell of death that clung to him.
“The stranger demanded Ox give ’em all his money.” The crowd mumbled in excitement and pressed in again lest they miss something. “Ox jumped up and bellowed like a crazed bull ready to charge. His face turned redder than that there blood on the floor.” Clyde paused for emphasis. “Then Ox grabs his chest and keeled over where you sees him now.”
“But did you see this here woman come in with a baby?” The young man raised his voice to be heard over the crowd. He wasn’t happy about sharing the limelight. Once he had their attention again, he continued. “The stranger was huntin’ for Ox’s coins when that woman came running inside carrying a squawlin’ babe in a leather bag slung over her shoulder like a sack of corn. The wench screamed when she saw ole Ox dead on the floor.” The young man turned to face the crowd and vaulted upon a nearby table then back to the floor. “The robber leaped over the bar and stood in her path. He says, ‘give me that brat’, but the woman didn’t budge.” The youth’s voice lowered in a dramatic way and spoke to the crowd, ignoring Henry.
“Frozen with fear, me thinks.” Clyde interrupted again. “The stranger grabbed for the bag containing the child and the woman went wild, swinging her arms at the man.” Everyone backed up as he demonstrated the woman’s actions. “He drew his knife and stabbed her in the chest twice before she turned loose the bag.” The old seaman waved his crutch in the air then slammed the end against the wood floor with a loud thump to indicate the battle. “The babe’s howlin’ got loud enough a deaf man could hear it. Before the woman hit the floor, the murderer jerked the bag away from the woman and ran out.” Clyde pointed to the doorway and the crowd, caught up in the story, turned to look at the open doorway, as if they might see the brigand escaping. “He got on his horse and rode away like the king’s army was after him.”
“What did the child look like?” Henry’s tone had risen to near panic as he grabbed the old seaman’s filthy tunic, ripping the ancient fabric.
Evangeline could barely draw a breath. She was too late? Sarah was gone? The brigand had taken her?
“Only its head stuck out of the bag. It had light brown hair and a squall that could raise the dead.” His voice rose in desperation as he pointed to the floor next to the bodies. “That fell from the bag when the killer grabbed it from the dead woman.” The nearest person stooped and picked up the bit of cloth and held it up.
“Aye, that there came from the bag.”
“Sarah!” Henry loosed the man and grabbed the cloth. His eyes were wide with fear, the same fear that clawed at Evangeline when she recognize Sarah’s blanket. “Which way did he go?”
The seaman and the boy pointed out the direction at the same time. Henry turned for the exit pressing through the crowd of onlookers. Evangeline left out the back door with fewer obstacles in her escape and managed to beat him outside. She headed toward the front of the inn with the intent of taking the nearest mount. As she turned the corner, Helen was out back with a horse saddled and ready.
“Go. I filled a bag for you with milk and supplies for the bairn when you find her. I’ll stay here and deal with this mess.” She handed Evangeline the reins. “I’ll send someone to fetch the king’s guards to follow you.”
Helen must have slipped away to the stable while Evangeline had stayed to listen.
Evangeline gave her friend a quick hug and leapt onto the horse sending it into a gallop in the direction the men had pointed.
The crowd outside the inn jumped out of the way to let her pass.
“Wait.” Henry shouted.
Dread soured her empty stomach with the thought of what would happen once he caught up with her. She shoved the thought away. First, they must save their daughter from being sold. In her heart she knew, for as sure as the sun rose, Henry would not be far behind.
Why did that thought comfort her?
The crowd had cheered the rider on. But Henry knew only one person who rode with such reckless abandon. Evangeline. His Evangeline. But how could that be?
He mounted the bay and charged after the unknown rider. His thoughts ran through his mind at equal speed.
After the fire, only four bodies were recovered, those of the servants and guards. Evangeline’s body could not be found and was thought to have been burned to ashes. His grief, as well as his need to protect little Sarah, had stopped him from searching further. Another stupid mistake, one of many his pride had suffered him to make.
Every jolt of his mount’s pounding hooves upon the hard trail loosed more painful memories.
The nanny’s confession had revealed who had hired the brigands.
Millicent.
She had pursued him long before he met Evangeline. Millicent had been one of three young women his father had considered as a prudent union. He had pressured Henry to pick a bride at the king’s ball, then Henry saw Evangeline and no other would do.
That he had even for one moment considered Millicent as a potential wife sent a stab of repulsion at his gut.
Every murmur hinted of Evangeline’s infidelity had come directly from Millicent or one of her maidservants.
His grief over his brother’s death had kept him from seeing the truth.
Evangeline had tried to tell me.
Everything they’d suffered was his fault. He’d been so stupid.
His horse stumbled, almost going down bringing his attention back to the present. Caution warred against his urgency to reach the rider ahead of him and little Sarah. He pulled back on the reins to slow the tired animal to a walk. If the horse fell, Henry’s already injured body would not fare well. There would be no second chance to find the truth or make things right.