Part 9 (2/2)
”I am not come in search of pleasure.”
”Revenge, then.”
”I have it already, whether she leaves here bruised or not.”
”You mean ... he will not believe her to be untouched, whether she is or not?”
”Would you?”
Sparrow pondered it a moment. ”No. But would you condemn her to all the pain and none of the enjoyment?”
”She takes the greater enjoyment in her own chast.i.ty and purity. If anything, I should endeavour to give her a deal more over the next few days. As much as she can bear in maintaining those lofty heights of unblemished virtue. Yes,” he said slowly. ”Yes, I should send her away from here believing she is a far better person for having frustrated me at my l.u.s.ts and perversions.”
”And when the Dragon affixes hot irons to her toes to crimp the truth from her?”
”A few heartfelt screams should convince him of her righteousness,” he said evenly. ”It will also convince her of my my purity and purity and my my selfless sacrifice for her honour. Furthermore, he will not be alive long enough to crimp anyone's toes. Nor would he attempt such a thing until the nuptials have been witnessed and blessed, and the deeds to the dower estates locked in his strongbox. She should be safe enough behind her protestations until then.” selfless sacrifice for her honour. Furthermore, he will not be alive long enough to crimp anyone's toes. Nor would he attempt such a thing until the nuptials have been witnessed and blessed, and the deeds to the dower estates locked in his strongbox. She should be safe enough behind her protestations until then.”
Sparrow sighed. ”It would be easier just to rape her. And far less of a strain on your own state of health.”
”My health is fine,” said the Wolf gruffly. ”I would hasten to say yours might be in some jeopardy, but my own is fine, thank you very much. And now, if you have no more dilemmas to solve, or wisdoms to dole out, I suggest you fly on up to your nest and put your nose to sleep for the night to save it being wedged beneath someone's boot.”
Sparrow scrambled prudently aside as the Wolf strode past him on his way back to the pilgrims' hall. His feathers ruffled, he muttered to himself as he followed a discreet distance behind, wondering why there was so little appreciation in the world for people who saw other people's problems so clearly, and could have resolved them so easily if allowed.
”Fine,” he grumbled to the darkness. ”Your shoulders are overburdened? Fine. Let her go to the Dragon with her fear of you still wet on her lashes. Let him him warm her thighs with sympathy and compa.s.sion and see how long it takes her to decide that warm her thighs with sympathy and compa.s.sion and see how long it takes her to decide that he he is the real Lucien Wardieu, and is the real Lucien Wardieu, and you you are the impostor! are the impostor! Paugh! Paugh! Great heaving lummox,” he finished querulously. Great heaving lummox,” he finished querulously.
He emerged from the arbor of tangled weed and clinging vines and stopped dead in his tracks. Only his head and shoulders rose above the thickest layer of mist, making him look like just another of the stumps dotting the edge of the garden.
For a full minute ... three ... five ... he remained utterly motionless, and was on the verge of cursing the fog for having raised the hackles on his neck, when he saw another flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye.
Someone else had been waiting, frozen against the shadows, questioning his instincts. It was not the Wolf, who, despite his size could slip about with enough stealth to cause bulk in a man's drawers over the suddenness of his appearance. It was was someone who did not want to be observed, however, but because his patience had run out a split second before Sparrow's, was seen clearly as he melted from tree to tree and eventually ducked furtively through the gap in the outer stone wall. someone who did not want to be observed, however, but because his patience had run out a split second before Sparrow's, was seen clearly as he melted from tree to tree and eventually ducked furtively through the gap in the outer stone wall.
”h.e.l.lo?” Sparrow murmured under his breath. ”Who are you and where might you be sneaking off to this time of the night?”
Nowhere necessary, he decided, since the privies and the stream were both on the other side of the grounds.
Sparrow debated sounding the alarm, but dismissed the idea as swiftly as it had formed. An alarm would send the men out into the woods, but he had seen nothing more than a blurred outline, thus the quarry could easily blend in with the searchers and return to Thornfeld, his secret intact.
What secret? secret?
The sentries were not due to be changed for several hours yet. There were no villages close by, no wh.o.r.es with open thighs to lure a man and his coin into breaking trust with the camp-certainly not this way. Besides, the men had, for the most part, been together for several years; their needs and appet.i.tes were well known and always taken care of. Only Gil Golden and Robert the Welshman were recent recruits, but both had proven themselves above reproach.
Or had they?
Heedless of the Wolf's warning to guard his nose, Sparrow checked to see his bow was slung securely over his shoulder, and his quiver was full of arrows. He wasted no more time on his conscience, but moved quickly toward the same dark opening through which his quarry had disappeared.
Whoever he was following was very good; there was no telltale crackling of twigs, or crunching of leaves to betray the path he had taken. Then again, he was not as good as Sparrow, who climbed hand over foot into the nearest tree and took his first marker from the disgruntled hoot of an unsettled owl.
It did not take him long to identify the prey he stalked, nor, after two hours of carefully trailing the Judas, was there any doubt the path they were taking led directly to the Dragon's camp at Alford.
10.
The Dragon was not a man. He was not human, decided Onfroi de la Haye as he fidgeted nervously on his stool, his eyelids squinting alternately between the belligerent countenance of his wife Nicolaa, and the distracted, self-absorbed features of the Baron de Gournay. Nicolaa had arrived in camp several hours after the others, her palfrey lathered and blowing hard to suggest she had striven valiantly to keep apace with Wardieu and his mercenaries. But a palfrey was no match for a warhorse, and true to his warning, Wardieu had neither stopped nor given in to her outlandish demands to be provided with a stronger steed. Venting her temper in the wake of such a humiliating failure, had cost one of her personal servants a severe whipping, and her groomsman a broken arm.
Onfroi, knowing better than to interfere or to stay her hand, had kept well away from the shrieking Fury until sheer exhaustion had rendered his wife more amenable to human companions.h.i.+p. Even then, he kept a prudent distance from the small, wickedly knotted leather lash she used to emphasize her words and gestures.
A wooden trestle table had been erected in one of the larger tents. A late supper had consisted of cold mutton and hard cheese purchased from the dour monks at Alford. Conversation had been limited to a few perfunctory words exchanged between Onfroi and his wife; Wardieu had remained gloweringly silent throughout the long evening. Onfroi knew the look well enough, and did not like what it forebode. No, he did not like it at all.
”For pity's sake, Onfroi, stop squirming like a blistered worm,” Nicolaa said, snapping the handle of the lash against the tabletop. She had regained most of the energy she had expended on the long, hard ride, and felt as tense in the unnatural silence as a bubble about to burst.
”Forgive me, my dearest. I was not aware I was ... ah, squirming.”
”Squirming, twitching, sweating-Mon Dieu, but you reek of a cesspool. Can you not go out and ... and see if those lazy wastrels have groomed my poor Arabella properly? If not, if they have ruined her, I swear I shall whip the lot of them until the flesh is shredded from their miserable hides. I shall hang them by their entrails and-” She stopped and glanced up as Wardieu stood. ”My lord?” Her voice was instant sweetness. ”You have hardly touched a morsel of food. Will you not have more ale? Some grapes, or an apple perhaps?”
In lieu of answering, the golden-haired knight ducked through the opening of the tent and strode out into the darkness. He walked the length of the camp and came to a halt on the knoll that overlooked the slope of the valley. The lowlands were m.u.f.fled under a pale blanket of mist, but high above the blackened crust of trees were thousands of pinp.r.i.c.ks of starlight, and behind him, hung against the velvet sky like a gleaming sickle, was the thin, silvery rim of the moon. There were no lights showing from the windows of Alford. It was past midnight, and the monks, being frugal as well as bone-weary after toiling long hours in their daily duties, wasted no candlewax past the hour of Compline.
”What the devil can be keeping De Vere?” he muttered aloud. ”He has been in that accursed forest for hours.”
”You set him a difficult task, my lord,” said Nicolaa, coming quietly up to stand beside him. She touched the sleeve of his chain-mail s.h.i.+rt and ran her fingers possessively onto the quilted thickness of his surcoat, sighing as if she found herself having to explain the very obvious to a petulant child. ”It was already dusk when you sent him into the forest; he could hardly be expected to search in the dark.”
”De Vere could track an ant through a meadow on a moonless night. A two-legged wolf should present no great problem.”
Nicolaa lifted a brow delicately. It was not unlike Wardieu to be cross and impatient in the face of inefficiency, nor to become tense and intractable with too many hours of physical inactivity. Some of their more memorable trysts, in fact, had taken place between bouts of a tourney, with him still splashed with the blood of one opponent, and waiting feverishly to split the bones of another. The challenge of rooting out this Black Wolf of Lincoln should have had a similar effect on his carnal urges, and was one of the more prurient reasons why Nicolaa had insisted on accompanying him to Alford.
Yet this was no ordinary tension she could sense thrumming through the finely honed body. Something was distracting De Gournay, tempering the voracious appet.i.te of her prize stallion to the point where he had not glanced in her direction once all evening-an affront to her vanity she could not be expected to entertain in good humour.
”Lucien?” Her hand drifted downward, skipping over the wide leather belt strapped around his waist, and cupped suggestively around the slashed V where his chausses met beneath the hem of his surcoat. There was no response at all. Not even a flicker on the angular planes of his face to show he was aware of the invitation.
”Lucien! For the love of G.o.d-” She lowered her voice to a throaty rumble. ”You are acting like a man possessed. One would think you would be grateful to this Black Wolf for providing you with a solution to your problem. The marriage contracts have been signed; you are as good as wed to the little b.i.t.c.h now. No court in the land would deny you your right to her estates simply because of the interference of a blood-l.u.s.ting outlaw.”
Wardieu turned and stared wordlessly.
”It is perfect perfect, do you not see? Let him have her. Let him keep her. Send him your blessings as well as a sharpened blade to do the carving!”
He continued to stare, his gaze so cold and hard Nicolaa felt a corresponding rush of anger surge through her veins.
”First you claim she means nothing to you,” she hissed between clenched teeth. ”Now, suddenly, you are acting as if she means everything! I warn you, I will not be played the fool, Lucien. Not again. Not by you, or any man!”
”Was it you?” he asked in a disbelieving whisper. ”Was this your poor idea of a jest, Nicolaa?”
”Was what what my idea of a jest? Kidnapping the girl? Good my lord, were it my idea to take her and hold her to ransom, it would not have been her finger I had carved from her!” my idea of a jest? Kidnapping the girl? Good my lord, were it my idea to take her and hold her to ransom, it would not have been her finger I had carved from her!”
”Then tell me ... how did he get the ring?”
”What are you talking about?” she demanded archly. ”What ring?”
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