Part 10 (1/2)

She said, 'What do you want with her?'

Then she understood, child though she was. She knew what men and women did together. She knew that when they wanted to have a baby they mated just like the animals did. She tried not to think about it, for it disturbed her.

This man wanted to do those things with Meggie. And Rosamund would have willingly gone into the chapel and sworn before G.o.d that Meggie didn't want him to.

She stood up straight, wis.h.i.+ng her knees were not trembling so much. 'I don't know who you mean.'

He shook her hard. 'Oh, yes, you do,' he said, his voice cold and menacing, 'and you will tell me, even if I have to wring it out of you.'

Then a lot of things happened at once. Rosamund heard the sound of racing footsteps coming up behind her and, spinning round, she saw Ninian leap on Olivier's back and grasp him tightly, pinning his arms to his sides.

And in front of her, a cool voice said, 'You will not do that. I am here to stop you.'

Twisting back again, Rosamund saw Meggie standing before her. She had a sword in her hand.

Meggie and Ninian had left their horses on the forest fringe, tethered out of sight of the chapel. They had crept through the dense trees on tracks that Meggie knew as well as she knew the lines on her own hands, coming out behind the chapel. They watched as the two horses came to a halt out on the open ground, and they listened, as best they could, to what was being said.

Meggie had misinterpreted the threat. She believed, in the first horrified moments, that the lord in the russet tunic was hunting for the chapel's secret: for the Black Madonna that her own mother had sent back here from the G.o.ddess's former place of concealment in the cathedral at Chartres. She thought that the power surging through her came straight from Joanna, and that it was commanding her to defend the G.o.ddess and keep her safe from this man, whoever he was. Carefully, deliberately, she placed herself between him and the chapel.

Now she watched as he shook Rosamund. He will make the poor child tell him what he wants to know, she thought. She heard his furious words: 'You will tell me, even if I have to wring it out of you.'

Ninian had gone around behind the other man. Meggie did not even stop to think whether he was still a threat, or whether Ninian would succeed in holding him off. Drawing her sword, she stepped out from her hiding place in the underbrush and walked across the clearing.

Even as Meggie made her calm announcement, Rosamund was already pulling herself out of the lord's grasp and running over to her, calling out her name. Meggie put out her left arm and drew the girl fiercely to her side. 'Are you all right?' she whispered.

'Yes!' Rosamund breathed. Then: 'He wants you, Meggie. He wants to bed you.'

Meggie opened her mouth in amazement. For an absurd moment she wanted to laugh. He was not after the Black Madonna. He was after her. Then she saw that the younger man had wrestled himself out of Ninian's arms. Even as she watched, he pushed Ninian away and drew his sword.

Slowly, the man in the russet tunic stood up. He was looking right at her. 'It's you,' he said. It felt to Meggie as if the fire in his blue eyes was searing against her bare skin. He took a step towards her and instinctively, still clutching Rosamund, she moved back. Slowly, he shook his head in wonder. 'Against all expectation, this fool's plan ' he nodded in direction of the man 'has achieved the right result.'

She stared at him. She could sense his fierce l.u.s.t; she could smell it in the beads of sweat on his flushed face. He extended his hands to her. 'My lady, will you not approach and-'

She did not wait to hear any more. She raised her sword and brought it down in a wide, sweeping curve . . .

. . . only to have it blocked by his. He had reached down and drawn it from its scabbard with a speed she would not have thought possible.

She did not know what would have happened next had a sudden, piercing cry not rung out across the clearing. Rosamund shrieked, the lord spun round and, with the strong pressure his sword had been exerting on hers suddenly gone, Meggie stumbled and fell.

Ninian's opponent had a long cut on his left forearm and the blood was pouring down his hand. The cut was no mortal blow, however, and Meggie watched in horror as, with a howl of rage, the young man raised his sword and lunged at Ninian. Ninian, sword in his right hand and knife in his left, waited, poised on his toes, and Meggie could see the tension in him. The lord was already hurrying up behind him; Ninian was surrounded.

She pushed Rosamund away from her and launched herself after the lord. He spun round and snarled at her and, just for an instant, both Ninian and the young man were staring at her too. The blood pounded through her body, and she saw a red mist before her eyes; through it came the sudden, sharp awareness that all three men had bright blue eyes.

They all turned inward to face each other. Three swords were held high, and then, as the young man closed on Ninian and the lord launched himself on them both, the long weapons became useless and the knives were drawn.

For the blink of an eye she watched the struggle, then she ran over to join in.

She did not see exactly how it happened, but all at once the young man lay still on the ground, the lord was kneeling down clutching both hands to his shoulder and Ninian stood alone, a b.l.o.o.d.y knife in his hand.

She met his eyes. There was triumph in his face. But he was wrong to feel jubilant, for now the danger was even greater. 'Run!' she yelled.

He looked at her, wiping blood from his lip with his left hand.

'Go!' She ran across to him, pus.h.i.+ng at him. Still wild from the fight, he felt as hard as iron. She put her hands on his shoulders, pulling him close. 'Ninian, if he's dead they'll make sure you hang!' she cried urgently. 'He's a great lord, and you've felled one of his men! Even if you and I swear it was two against one and they attacked you, who will be believed?'

Still he did not move.

Desperate now, Meggie went in for the kill. 'What would it do to Josse if you were hanged?' she demanded, sobbing. 'He loves you like a son, and he's already lost our mother. Would you break his heart again?'

She had reached him. She knew it. He sheathed his knife, bent to pick up his sword and, straightening, gave her a hard hug. Then he turned and ran.

NINE.

Meggie waited until she could no longer hear him. Rosamund had come to stand beside her, pressing herself close against Meggie's body. Absently, she smoothed the girl's fine hair. 'The danger is past now,' she murmured. 'You're safe with me.'

The desire to take to her heels and, grabbing Rosamund's hand, run as fast as she could to the hut in the forest was all but overwhelming. The hut was where she had lived as a child with her mother. It was the most secure place that she knew, for very few people were aware of its existence. Meggie knew how to make it all but invisible. She had seen her mother work that particular piece of magic when she needed to hide from the world, although Meggie did not think that her mother had known her little girl was watching and memorizing the chant and the actions.

Meggie wished with all her heart that her mother was there in the wildwood waiting for her. She wasn't; she had gone, and she would not come back.

Meggie knew she couldn't go where her heart desired. For one thing, if she ran away with Rosamund now, the girl's poor parents would have to wait even longer to know she was safe. Meggie could barely imagine what they had been enduring. She had briefly explored a little way towards Paradisa's mind, but it had hurt very much and she had stopped.

The other reason two reasons, really were in the clearing with her. One was lying on the ground and not moving; the other had sat down on the gra.s.s and, one hand clamped to his shoulder, was staring at the blood welling up between his fingers.

Meggie disengaged herself from Rosamund. Her hands on the girl's shoulders, she stared into the wide eyes. 'I want you to go over to the edge of the clearing and keep an eye on the abbey gates,' she said. 'If you see one of the nuns or monks, yell as hard as you can to catch their attention.'

Rosamund's trembling stopped as soon as Meggie finished issuing her simple command. Watching her hurry away across the gra.s.s, Meggie smiled. She was a plucky girl and, given a task, she had put her fear and her horror aside and got on with doing what she was told.

Meggie spun round and went over to the man lying on the ground. She glanced at the man in the russet tunic and saw that his eyes were on her. 'I will come to you in a moment,' she said calmly. 'Your companion here appears to be the more gravely wounded, so I must tend to him first.'

She knelt beside the young man, her hand out to touch his face. His skin was cool and clammy. She put her fingers to his throat, feeling for the pulse of life. She was not sure if it was there. She bent over him, her cheek against his mouth, and felt the faintest in and out of his breath.

Then, when she knew he was alive, she began examining him. He had a wound in his side, under his right arm. It was quite deep and bleeding a great deal. She reached under her skirt and grabbed her linen underskirt, biting the cloth with her teeth and ripping a length of fabric. She balled it up and pressed it against the wound, undoing the man's belt and fastening it up again over the pad of cloth. She noticed bruising across his ribs and wondered if he had winded himself. He needed more help than she could provide, for she had no medicaments and no proper bandages, and the day was cold. She got up and hurried over to the older man.

'Let me see,' she commanded. He took his hand away from his shoulder. His wound was less deep, but still bad enough. She tore another length off her underskirt, again folding a pad and putting it against the cut. 'Press that, very hard,' she said.

He obeyed. She sat back on her heels watching as the blood stained the white linen. It seemed to her that the flow was already lessening.

She felt his eyes on her. Turning, she saw that he was smiling. 'I have had many wounds,' he remarked, 'but never such an exotic bandage. May I be permitted to keep this piece of your delectable underskirt, lady?'

Against all expectations, she laughed.

His smile widened, and he chuckled. 'I thought you might be offended,' he said. 'I thought you might get angry again, like you did just now, and stab my other shoulder.'

She was still smiling. Whatever sort of a predator he was, he had charm. 'That was then,' she said. 'Now, you are wounded. You are in my care, and I am not in the habit of sticking my sword into my patients.'

'That's lucky,' he observed. 'You swing a sword like a man, although your technique could be refined.' The blue eyes blazed up at her, full of a seductive heat that required the swift a.s.sembly of her defences. 'I'll give you some lessons, if you like.'