But I say unto you which hear, love your enemies, do good to them which hate you, bless them that curse you, and pray for them which despitefully use you.
Luke 6:27-28
The waning light of day created uneven shadows along the forest path. Though on his guard, Hugh could not decipher what or who lurked beyond the trees. “Indeed, Sir Reginald is no fool,” he muttered to himself. The wagon lumbered along until he heard the river lapping at the shore’s edge. He had reached his destination. However, there seemed to be no sign of Lord de Orsey or his men.
Carefully, he descended the cart, keeping a sharp eye on the woods around him. At all times he kept one hand on the hilt of his sword. A soft crack came from his left and then another from his right. As expected, he was surrounded on three sides and fenced in by the river on a fourth. Quickly, Hugh unsheathed his sword and moved until he stood at the cart horse’s flank.
The bushes shook as Sir Reginald stepped forward, his sword drawn. In his other hand he dragged a gagged and tied Isobel. “Drop your sword, Thornwood.”
Hugh lowered his blade, but did not drop it. “Nay. Not until you release the girl.”
A few more of Sir Reginald’s knights stepped out of the woods behind him. With quick action, Hugh leaned his back against the horse.
“Come a step closer and I will slap this horse’s flank, sending him into the river. You will lose much if you do not release the girl.”
Lord de Orsey swore under his breath, but let go of Isobel. The child ran toward Hugh, but he shooed her away as Darrin’s loud whistle pierced the air.
“Run, Isobel. Run toward the sound,” Hugh shouted. The child complied and crawled into the underbrush as fast as a fox with a pack of hounds on its heels.
Hugh slapped the horses flank, sending the animal off toward the river. Gold pots, silver dishes, and ornate furniture fell from the cart, floating away on the fast current. Hugh then tightly gripped his sword with both hands as Lord de Orsey charged forward along with the other knights. He deflected Sir Reginald’s first advance, but caught a slice in the thigh from another knight. If he could hold them a little longer, Darrin and Julian could safely whisk Isobel away.
With a loud warrior cry, Hugh charged at Sir Reginald, swinging the blade left then right, upward and downward. Hugh twisted left trying to deflect an onslaught from other knights. Hugh’s strength began to wane with every blow, every strike he could muster. His breath labored and spent, he sent up one simple prayer. “God, forgive me of all my sins. Watch over those I love. Accept your humble servant into Your heavenly arms.”
Hugh sunk to one knee still swinging his sword, waiting for the fatal blow. A whoosh of arrows swirled around him as knights fell to the ground. A roar of horses’ hooves thundered up the path. Those of Lord de Orsey’s men still standing, dropped their swords and fell to their knees.
Even Sir Reginald gave up the fight, stabbing his blade in the ground, bowing his head. “Sire.”
Atop a mighty steed sat King Richard, draped in a long, green, hooded cloak. His back ramrod straight. “So, Sir Reginald. You did not heed my words. I told you to lose the tourney and leave the country.”
Lord de Orsey raised a steady, almost defiant eye to his king. “But that is what I planned to do, Sire. I was just trying to secure some coin to pay for my journey.”
“And inflict a little revenge along the way. For I have seen what you have done to Sir Hugh’s keep. Now, instead of having the opportunity to flee and be with my brother in France, you will spend the rest of your natural days, as short as those may be, in my dungeon.”
With a wave of the hand, King Richard’s men grabbed Lord de Orsey by the arms and dragged him away. His Majesty then set his gaze on Hugh.
“Sire,” he said, trying to struggle to his feet.
“Stay down, Thornwood,” the king ordered. “Let us not rest on formality here.”
Hugh nodded and sank back to the ground and the world began to spin and turn grey and black before him.
’Twas the next day when Hugh finally felt well enough to join the living. Though in truth, he couldn’t stand all the women of his family fussing over him. From their chatter he had learned the cart filled with Jane’s filthy loot was found downstream and, more importantly, Isobel had indeed reached safety. But he had not seen Eleanor since Simon delivered her kicking and screaming to the women’s tent yesterday. No doubt she still held him in contempt because of his decision to, upon his death, give her and Theo Thornwood Keep. Why she’d acted like a banshee upon hearing his decision was beyond him. Simon would turn Thornwood over to the Church if something happened. Therefore, giving Thornwood to Theo and her had been quite reasonable.
Leaving the pestering women behind, he hobbled out of his tent and headed toward where the king had set up his entourage. He owed the man his life and would declare so publicly. It only seemed right he should follow his king into war with France, which brought him back to the dilemma at hand. He could get killed in battle. All the more reason Eleanor should have Thornwood. True, it didn’t look like much now, but with repairs it could be as it was before—perhaps even better.
Julian and his mother did not want or need the keep and neither did Breanna. Theo and Eleanor would eventually get Taine Manor. Adding the modest manor to Thornwood holdings seemed an excellent idea. Why, even King Richard would agree.
Hugh had not made it more than twenty paces from his tent when Isobel came skipping up to his side, grabbing his hand. “I wasn’t scared.”
He didn’t pause, nor did he look down at the child. She spoke of her trials with Lord de Orsey and Hugh didn’t want to add any distress to an already awful situation. “I didn’t think you would be. You are quite the fearless warrior.”
Isobel tripped and they almost went down, but Hugh managed to keep them both upright by leaning on the crutch his mother had fashioned for him earlier.
“I would never be afraid of a big fat liar,” Isobel said.
Now this did surprise him. “Liar?”
“He’s no dragon. Not once did he spit out fire or show a single scale. He’s more like Mable.”
“Mable?”
“The big white goose with the one brown feather. The one that got away from Cook in the hall. Remember?”
Who could forget that tumultuous day? But he hadn’t known Isobel had started naming his livestock. He wondered what she called the pigs.
Isobel then poked a finger at his bandage. “Does this hurt?”
Hugh winced. “Only when touched,” he said a little too gruffly. He regretted his tone immediately. Clearly, Isobel was trying to put on a brave front in the wake of her father’s death.
Suddenly she began to skip, jump, and twirl this way and that while still hanging onto him. “Do you like my dance? I made it up just for you. ’Cause you saved me from Lord Goose head.”
His good leg buckled and, with a thump, he landed on the ground with Isobel standing over him. She began to cry and threw her arms around his neck. “Don’t fall down and die like Papa,” she wailed.
Hugh patted her back and tried to calm her worries, but the girl just shrilled all the louder. Many stopped their work and rushed over, but ’twas an angel of mercy that lifted his spirit.
Eleanor scooped up Isobel and comforted her. “Shh, little one. You have nothing to be afraid of. Did Lord Thornwood try to hurt you?”
“Hurt her? I am the one on the ground and you accuse me of harming the child?”
“Well, she is the one crying. You must have done something.” Eleanor glared at him while hugging, cooing and kissing Isobel.
Hugh slapped the ground. “Well if that doesn’t—”
“Are you all right, Brother?” Hugh looked up and saw that Julian and Royce were among the growing circle of gawkers.
“I am fine. Isobel was just showing me a little dance when—”
“When he fell down like Papa.” Fresh tears sprung from the child’s eye; Hugh’s gut twisted at her yowls.
Julian held out a hand, which Hugh took gladly. The moment he stood on his feet, Isobel scurried away from Eleanor and came running at Hugh. She threw both her arms around his legs.
Hugh grimaced as Isobel tightened her grip on his sore leg, but he placed a gentle hand on her soft hair. “I’m fine, Isobel. I just fell down. It’s nothing serious.”
The child raised her head and gazed at him with tear-streaked cheeks. “Papa fell down, but he didn’t get up.”
Hugh wanted to point out her father fell because he had an arrow protruding from his chest, but this didn’t seem to be the prudent time to have that discussion.
Again Eleanor came up and knelt down next to Isobel. “That was very different. Lord Thornwood just took a tumble, nothing more.”
“He’s not going to die?” Isobel whimpered.
“Nay. Lord Thornwood is fine,” Eleanor said in a soothing voice.
Isobel looked up at him again, a tiny pout on her lips. “Will he live a long, long time?”
A few in the circle around them snickered, but Eleanor’s frown brought them to silence. She then turned her attention back to the girl. “If he takes care of himself, he will live a long, long time.”
Isobel looked up at Hugh. “Promise?”
This whole conversation was poppycock. He could not make such a foolish promise. In a month’s time he could be in France fighting. He looked to Eleanor for help. She offered nothing but a raised eyebrow.
“The child awaits an answer,” Julian whispered through a clenched smile.
Hugh cleared his throat. He wasn’t in the habit of lying to children.
“Of course he is going to live a long time,” a loud voice boomed as the circle parted.
Hugh bowed to his king as best he could, given the condition of his leg. “Your Majesty, I was just coming to see you.”
King Richard put his hands on his hips. “Were you now? And I came venturing to see how our patient was doing. Great minds must think alike.” A bounteous laugh brought tentative chuckles from those around him.
Hugh wisely kept silent.
Isobel looked up at her king. “They say you are a lion. Is that true?”
Bending down, Richard examined the child. A broad smile split his lips. “Some say I roar like one,” he bellowed.
Isobel stumbled back against Hugh’s legs, her lips trembled. He expected a fresh set of tears to flow from her eyes. Instead she took a tentative step forward, looked up into the king’s face and smiled. “You do sound like one.”
All about laughed and the king bent down and patted the girl on the head. “I guess that means you approve of the title.” He stood and shot a gaze around the ever growing crowd. “Come, Sir Hugh, let us retire to your tent as I wish to speak to you alone.”
Hugh’s shoulders sagged slightly for he really didn’t want to go back to whence he had just come, especially filled with all the nagging women. But the moment the king entered the tent and roared, the women emptied out faster than a streak of lightning crosses the sky. Except for one who poked her head inward.
Isobel.
King Richard gave another hearty laugh. “If you mind, a few private words with Lord Thornwood, please.”
Isobel wrinkled her nose. “All right, but don’t be too long. I have a few games I think we should play.”
“Games?” Silence ebbed the room and then another robust roar of merriment filled the air. King Richard shook his head. “Aye, games. But right now, run along.”
Isobel nodded and left, but Hugh knew she hadn’t gone far and his king would have his hands full the moment he stepped outside this dwelling.
With the flap of the tent closed, Richard sat down on a stiff back chair and motioned to Hugh to take a stool, hearing his sister, Lady Ariane, Lady Grace, and his mother chattering outside the tent. “How can you stand all that noise?”
“They are family, Your Majesty.”
“No wonder you chose to remain single. Though a comely lot, all that pampering and twitting about could make a man soft or, worse, lose his mind.”
Hugh nodded but gave no voice on the matter, certain the de Maury women heard everything within. One word of agreement could lead to months, mayhap years, of disappointed glances or pointed jabs from his mother and sister.
The king leaned forward on the chair. “Let us talk about your future.”
That’s what he liked about his king. Straight to the mark. “Your Majesty. You saved my life and I will always be in your debt. I wish to follow you to France, into battle.”
The king leaned back and frowned. “I will take your loyal service, but not on the battle field, but here. You need to stay and rebuild your keep. I will have your brother and Sir Guy to help me on the field.”
Hugh dropped one knee to the ground and cupped his hands over his heart. “My King, I beg of you to leave Sir Guy and my brother behind. Sir Guy’s wife is heavy with child and my brother is needed to defend the north. I can assure you, they are loyal to you. Take me in their place, for I have no one.”
“No one? What of Lady Eleanor?”
The words struck Hugh hard. Could the king see where his affections lay or was he searching to find out who would be the lady’s future husband?
Hoping it was the latter, Hugh chose his words carefully. “The archery tournament was foiled by Sir Reginald. My captain, Sir Theodore de Born was to win and earn Lady Eleanor’s hand.”
“But there was another challenger.” His voice came out above a whisper.
Finally the truth. The king had indeed placed spies within his keep, otherwise he would not have known what happened there. Perhaps the old cloaked man was one of them. Sent to sway his decisions. Although which way his mind should be swayed, Hugh knew not.
“Lord Thomas de Vin truly is not much of a challenger.”
The king folded his hands in front of him and narrowed his eyes. “Yet he has made it to the final round.”
“Aye, Your Majesty. No one expected him to get this far. He is not known as an expert archer. But Sir Theodore would have easily defeated him, I am sure.”
“Are you? Lord de Vin’s skills were satisfactory enough to have him compete against your choice. If he defeats Sir Theodore, will you hand Lady Eleanor over to Sir Thomas?”
The forcefulness of the king’s words took Hugh aback. True, Sir Thomas had had a string of good fortune, but Theo was the superior archer. Surely, he would have easily won. Though why they were still discussing what might have happened left Hugh flummoxed.
“Sire, mayhap I should have thought this tourney through more, but it matters not, as it will never be completed.”
“And why not?”
Why not. His keep lay in ruins, his bean and grain fields all but destroyed, and his people may starve this winter. Hugh’s tongue grew stiff and any words died within him.
The king stood and Hugh quickly followed suit. With a pointed finger the king laid down his command. “You will finish this tourney. ’Twill give my people hope after what happened here.” Richard turned away and his voice grew low. “Besides, I feel somewhat responsible for what took place.”
“Sire?”
King Richard swiveled back and folded his hands behind his back. He raised his head, but a heavy scowl settled on his face. “I have been keeping an eye on Sir Reginald. He has been sending dispatches to my brother in France and, well, let us just say he would benefit even more if my brother returned.”
All the pieces began to fit together in Hugh’s weary mind. “’Twas your camp that stood near Lord de Orsey’s.”
“Aye. I stripped him of all his lands.”
The words the king had said yesterday fluttered back in his mind. “And told him to throw the tourney.”
“Aye and leave,” Richard barked. His words caused a guard to poke his head in the tent, who was immediately waved off. “Burning down your keep was not in the plan. I promise you, he will pay for his crimes.”
Though Hugh had lost much, he still had much to be thankful for. No one, other than Adam, had lost their life and, somehow, Hugh would make sure his servants and people would be taken care of, even if he had to ask his mother and brother for help. Thornwood could always be rebuilt—but, at the moment, making a great holding was not first and foremost on his mind.
“Sire. Sir Reginald did what he did in desperation. Do not take the only thing he has left, his life. I beg you to send him to France as you had planned. Christ taught us to forgive those who wish to do us harm. My keep can be rebuilt, but a soul cannot be redeemed if it is snuffed out in the darkness.”
King Richard pursed his lips and stroked his beard. He paced the room a few moments, then stopped in front of Hugh. “You are an extraordinary man. Very well, Lord de Orsey shall be sent to France, alive.”
“And my desire to take my brother and friend’s place on the battle field?”
The king chuckled. “By the cross, you are a persistent man. I have made my decision. You will stay here. Ask not again or I may chop off Sir Reginald’s head anyway. The tourney will be finished on the morrow and I hope you will be happy with whomever wins Lady Eleanor’s hand.”
With nothing left to say, the king left the tent. Hugh plopped down on a stool. Nay, he would never be happy with who won Eleanor’s hand. Not as long as he drew breath.