Главная страница | Современная зарубежная литература | Promised to the Crusader

Promised to the Crusader
Anne Herries


THE SCARRED KNIGHT’S RETURN…Haunted by war, Sir Zander de Bricasse is no longer the idealistic youth who left his sweetheart to join the Crusades. Years have passed and he now fully expects to find Elaine married to another. Instead he discovers she is in grave danger…Fleeing from a murderous earl, Lady Elaine is rescued by a mysterious knight – her beloved Zander! She’s never forgotten his promise to wed her, but to restore their lost love she must help this brooding, tormented stranger heal the wounds of his troubled past.












Elaine had thought he no longer loved her—that love had been burned away by bitterness and sorrow—but the look he gave her made her heart race.


Gazing into his eyes, which looked dark and bottomless this morning, she felt a spasm of desire. Her mouth felt dry and her tongue moved over her lips as she tried to control the sudden leap of excitement. For one precious moment she had seen something in his eyes—something that reminded her of the youth that had left her to fight for his ideals.

She felt light-headed and almost swayed towards him. It seemed to her that his mouth softened, and she longed to kiss him, to be held in those strong arms as she’d been held so many years ago—but she had been a child then, and now the woman she had become longed for more.




AUTHOR NOTE


When brave men set out to fight for their King and Christianity they knew they were leaving their homes, their families and their sweethearts for years. It wasn’t possible for them to come home on leave, as our wonderful soldiers do today; it would be years before they saw their homeland again. Wives and sweethearts were often left wondering if they would ever see the man they loved again in this life, while a young son might grow to manhood in his father’s absence. Little wonder, then, that a girl’s uncle might seek to marry her to a rich and powerful man, bidding her to forget the man she loved.

This is the story of Elaine, who was determined to stay faithful to her love, but when Zander returned he was not the same. Could she ever hope to find the love they had lost?

I hope you enjoy this book as much as I enjoyed writing it.





About the Author


ANNE HERRIES lives in Cambridgeshire, where she is fond of watching wildlife and spoils the birds and squirrels that are frequent visitors to her garden. Anne loves to write about the beauty of nature, and sometimes puts a little into her books, although they are mostly about love and romance. She writes for her own enjoyment, and to give pleasure to her readers. Anne is a winner of the Romantic Novelists’ Association Romance Prize. She invites readers to contact her on her website: www.lindasole.co.uk




Previous novels by Anne Herries:




THE RAKE’S REBELLIOUS LADY

A COUNTRY MISS IN HANOVER SQUARE* (#ulink_30fe7dfd-c321-5475-b123-220dbb7a5c95)

AN INNOCENT DEBUTANTE IN HANOVE SQUARE* (#ulink_30fe7dfd-c321-5475-b123-220dbb7a5c95)

THE MISTRESS OF HANOVER SQUARE* (#ulink_30fe7dfd-c321-5475-b123-220dbb7a5c95)

FORBIDDEN LADY† (#ulink_0d6beed4-ca92-5c38-8881-3473d85e6e61)

THE LORD’S FORCED BRIDE† (#ulink_0d6beed4-ca92-5c38-8881-3473d85e6e61)

THE PIRATE’S WILLING CAPTIVE† (#ulink_0d6beed4-ca92-5c38-8881-3473d85e6e61)

HER DARK AND DANGEROUS LORD† (#ulink_0d6beed4-ca92-5c38-8881-3473d85e6e61)

BOUGHT FOR THE HAREM

HOSTAGE BRIDE

THE DISAPPEARING DUCHESS** (#ulink_e9f573e2-09b8-544b-acc6-0fdc97dffc4b)

THE MYSTERIOUS LORD MARLOWE** (#ulink_e9f573e2-09b8-544b-acc6-0fdc97dffc4b)

THE SCANDALOUS LORD LANCHESTER** (#ulink_e9f573e2-09b8-544b-acc6-0fdc97dffc4b)

CAPTAIN MOORCROFT’S CHRISTMAS BRIDE


(part of Candlelit Christmas Kisses)



A STRANGER’S TOUCH†

HIS UNUSUAL GOVERNESS


* (#litres_trial_promo)A Season in Town

† (#litres_trial_promo)The Melford Dynasty

** (#litres_trial_promo)Secrets and Scandals

And in the Regency series

The Steepwood Scandal:



LORD RAVENSDEN’S MARRIAGE

COUNTERFEIT EARL


And in The Hellfire Mysteries:



AN IMPROPER COMPANION

A WEALTHY WIDOW

A WORTHY GENTLEMAN


Did you know that some of these novels are also available as eBooks?Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk




Promised to the Crusader


Anne Herries








www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




Prologue


‘Please don’t go,’ the girl cried and clung to the young man in desperation. ‘Don’t leave me, Zander. If you go, I think I shall die of a broken heart. I cannot bear it if you leave me.’ She loved him so much and her life would seem empty without him.

Zander was tall and strong, but still a youth, being no more than seventeen years of age. He bent his head to drop a kiss on the girl’s fair hair, hiding the pain her entreaty caused him.

‘I must go, my dearest heart,’ he whispered, his throat catching with emotion. ‘You know I love you and shall until the day I die—but my father was murdered and most of his lands have been sold to pay debts. My mother has gone to a nunnery to weep for him, but I must avenge his death. To become strong enough to demand justice for my father, I must join the crusade and become a knight. Only then may I avenge my family and claim you as my bride.’

She gazed up at him, her eyes as blue as the summer sky above them, her pale hair wild about her face. Somewhere a meadowlark sang, but she did not hear its sweet song. All she knew was that the person she loved most in all the world was going away and she might never see him again. She tugged at his simple short tunic, her face strained with grief.

‘What shall I do if you are killed?’ she asked pitifully. ‘How can you leave me so?’

‘You are not alone, Elaine. Your father loves you dearly and will care for you. If I am killed, then you must forget you ever knew me.’

‘I shall never forget you,’ she vowed passionately. ‘You are the only man I shall ever love.’

‘You are but fourteen,’ Zander said and smiled tenderly. His hair was the colour of night and his eyes grey with a silver light in their depths. She thought him beautiful, his sweet singing voice a romantic delight, for he sang songs of love to her and played with her in the meadows all the summer long, making her chains of daisies. ‘I do truly love you, but your father would not let us wed. He has promised that if I return a knight with a fortune I have won for my valour, then he will look kindly on us, but until then I can offer you nothing.’

‘I care for nothing but you…’ What would all the gold in Christendom matter if he were killed and did not return to claim her?

‘I will not take my wife to a hovel and expect her to live like a pauper.’ Zander’s mouth hardened, his eyes becoming flinty. ‘I must go, Elaine. When my quest is over I shall come for you.’

‘And if I am wed?’ she demanded, her head high, eyes bright with pride. He had refused her and she would not beg for his favours.

‘Then I shall wish you happy and go away.’

‘You do not love me as I love you…’ She turned away, hurt and angry because he would not listen, but he caught her arm, swinging her back to face him. Then he bent his head, his mouth taking hers in a kiss of possession that told of the man he would be one day—a kiss that had her near swooning for love of him. ‘Zander, forgive me…I love you…’

‘And I you.’ He touched her cheek with his fingertips. ‘Take care, my beloved. I shall dream of you—and I swear that one day I shall come back to claim you.’

So saying, he pushed her gently from him and left her standing there as he mounted his horse and rode away. Elaine stared after him, tears trickling down her cheeks. She loved him so desperately and she was afraid that he would never return.




Chapter One


The knight stood in the middle of the field of carnage and looked about him at the dead and dying. Friends and enemies lay side by side, united in death, as they could never be in life. He had come here to this land called the Holy Land as a young man, filled with zeal and a burning desire to carry the Cross and bring the true faith to the heathen. All he had found was a terrible despair born of grief, pain and the disillusionment that comes from discovering that the king he had followed could on occasion be as cruel and unjust as the Saracen enemy. Indeed, at times the enemy seemed to be more merciful than the Christian knights who slaughtered prisoners without mercy.

As he found the youth he searched for amongst the fallen, Zander de Bricasse felt his sorrow deepen to the point where it became almost unbearable. The boy was a newcomer, fresh from his village in England where he had been recruited to fight the king’s wars—just as Zander had been five years earlier. He had fought so many terrible battles and survived, but this lad Tom had died in the first brief moments of his first encounter with the enemy. His mother and sweetheart would wait hopefully for a letter or a message that he was safe and well, but they would wait in vain. Tom would never go home.

Zander scooped the boy into his arms and carried him away from the stench of blood, the heat and the dust. He could not take the lad home to his mother, but he would bury him with honour in a place of peace that he knew of and he would send word to England of his brave death in battle. And then what would he do?

Zander felt his cheeks wet and knew that he was crying—crying for a boy he hardly knew. Or was he crying for the boy he had once been and a life he’d known so many long years ago? Into his mind came the picture of a beautiful young girl and the promise he’d made her to return and marry her once he’d made his fortune and avenged his father’s cruel death.

Depositing his precious burden in the shade of an olive tree by a pool that never dried no matter how hard the hot sun beat down on the land, Zander began to dig the grave that must hold Tom’s body. He would pray that the boy’s soul went to heaven—but where was heaven and where hell? Surely if there was a hell it was here in this terrible sun-drenched land.

Zander was no longer sure if either existed. As he worked, his tears dried and his resolve grew. He was done with this war and the cause he’d thought so just. He was not sure that he even believed in God anymore. Perhaps the heathens were right in their beliefs and his people were wrong to try to impose their religion.

It no longer mattered to Zander. He felt empty, drained of all emotion but pity for the waste of life. All he wanted now was to go home and find peace.

Would Elaine still be waiting for him—or would she have married long ago? He knew that he must return to England, to the home and the village of his birth. He was ready to seek the revenge that must be his—and then to claim the woman he loved.

As he rose from his knees after saying the words of prayer that the boy Tom deserved, Zander heard a yell from behind him. He whirled round even as the huge Saracen charged, sword in hand, arm raised to strike. Four others followed, sharp scimitars raised. Zander was unprepared, his sword abandoned for the spade to dig his friend’s grave. He saw it lying beneath a tree—but could he reach it before they cut him down?

Zander knew a moment of despair. ‘Forgive me, Elaine,’ he murmured, and it seemed that soon his blood too would stain this place of peace.

‘You will do as you are told, Elaine.’ Lord Marcus Howarth glared at his beautiful niece. ‘Your father indulged you and allowed you to stay at home and wait for the return of a man who may already lie dead in Jerusalem. Now your father is dead and I am master here. The Earl of Newark has asked for you in marriage and I see no reason to refuse his offer. He is a powerful man and your marriage would make us stronger here at Howarth.’

‘Please, I beg you, sir,’ Elaine Howarth cried. ‘Do not force me to this marriage. I dislike the earl and my heart belongs to Zander. If he is dead, I would rather go to a convent and spend my life in prayer. I gave him my word that I would wait when he left to follow the king and I shall not break it.’ Her blue eyes flashed defiance at him. ‘I refuse this marriage. No matter what you say I shall not wed a man I despise—nor shall I break my word to Zander.’

‘Indeed?’ Lord Howarth towered over her. A tall thickset man, he was the very opposite of her gentle father, for whom she was still in mourning. ‘We shall see about that, lady.’

The late master of Howarth Castle would never have forced his only daughter to marry a man she despised. He had married Elaine’s mother for love and mourned her sincerely when she died in childbirth some seven years after her daughter’s birth. Her babe had survived but a few hours after her and the then Lord Howarth had wept as he buried his son’s tiny body with its mother. He had loved his wife too well and would not take another, though it meant his brother would succeed him. He had his daughter and that must suffice.

‘Marcus is a just man,’ her father had told Elaine as he lay dying earlier that year. ‘You must follow his advice, my dearest child, for if you do not he may grow angry. My brother is honest, but he is not the most patient of men and he likes to be obeyed.’

Elaine had kissed her father’s cheek and told him not to worry for her, but she had not given her promise. She had never liked her uncle and knew that he thought her spoiled and too proud. His wife Margaret was quick to obey him; indeed, she tried to anticipate her husband’s every whim and was clearly afraid of displeasing him. Elaine could not go to her aunt for help because she would tell her it was her duty to obey her uncle.

‘I am an heiress in my own right,’ Elaine said, looking at her uncle boldly. He was tall and strong and could break her with his hands if he chose, but she doubted that he would stoop to violence. She supposed that in his own way he was the honourable man his brother had thought him, but he believed that he knew what was best for her—for the family. ‘If you will not allow me to wait here for Zander’s return, allow me to go to my dower lands. I can live there and be no trouble to you, my lord.’

‘Foolish girl!’ Her uncle looked at her in exasperation. ‘How long do you imagine you would be permitted to remain there without my protection? Your beauty—your wealth—makes you a target for every rogue baron in the country. Within six months you would find yourself a prisoner of some penniless knight and forced to wed him because he had disparaged you. I am offering you a match that will bring you prestige and wealth. Newark is a favourite with Prince John and will take you to court, where your beauty will be appreciated. You will have beautiful clothes, jewels and a respected name as his wife. Come, Elaine, give me your word and I shall send for him and the betrothal may be in a few days.’

‘No…’ Her heart raced as she saw the fury spark in his eyes, but her chin jutted and her head went higher. ‘My word is given to Zander—’

‘A landless knight who can offer you nothing! Your father told him he must prove himself before you could wed—and what did he do? He took the Cross and went to the Holy Land. Had he stayed here and won honours from Prince John, you might have been wed long since.’

Elaine bit her lip. In her heart she felt much as her uncle did, for she’d wept bitter tears night after night when Zander had left, but she knew that the man she loved would never have sought honour at Prince John’s court. He would think the prince corrupt and despise the way he imposed fines and taxes on a people struggling to survive despite poor harvests and the poverty that so many endured.

There was no point in telling her uncle that she did not wish to go to the prince’s court. All Elaine wanted was to be chatelaine of her own home. The dower lands that had come to her through her mother were fertile and situated on the borders between England and Wales, a distance of almost a hundred miles. If she left her uncle’s protection she knew that she would become a target for unscrupulous knights, who might snatch her and force her to wed them for the sake of her fortune.

‘Please, Uncle, for the love you bore my father, grant me a few more months. If Zander does not return by…the Eve of Christ’s Mass, I will accept my fate and marry the man of your choice.’

Lord Howarth stared at her in silence for several minutes and Elaine feared that he meant to impose his will. Rather than submit, she would run away, but she knew that if she did she might find herself in more danger. Unless she had an escort of armed men she might be kidnapped and either held to ransom or married against her will. Her best option was to wait for Zander’s return, but it seemed that her uncle was impatient for her marriage. She knew that she was well beyond the normal age for marriage, which for girls of her lineage was often arranged by their twelfth birthday. Yet she would rather live as a spinster than marry a man she despised.

Why did it matter to her uncle whom she married? Surely he had nothing to gain either way—and yet perhaps he would rather the earl was a friend than an enemy. If Newark was angered, it might mean that he would try to take by force what he could not get another way.

Howarth’s gaze narrowed. ‘You will give me your solemn word, Elaine? If this rogue you’ve set your heart on does not return by the Eve of Christ’s birth, you will marry the earl?’

‘If it is your wish, sir, yes.’ She crossed her fingers behind her back for nothing would make her marry that evil man. Somehow she would contrive to get away and seek sanctuary in a convent.

Her uncle inclined his head. ‘Then I shall grant your wish. It is but two and a half months away. I am not such a hard man that I would force you just to please myself, niece—but this is for your own good. If you delay much longer, the chance will pass you by and you may have no choice but to retire to a nunnery.’

She would much prefer that to a marriage she did not like, but she said nothing of defiance, pretending to a calm she did not feel.

‘I thank you for your patience, Uncle.’ She lowered her head demurely so that he should not see the flash of temper in her eyes. Rather than marry a man she despised she would retire to a nunnery—or, if driven to it, she would take her own life. There were poisons that were quick, though they caused terrible pain, but she would endure even that rather than submit to Newark. The way he looked at Elaine made her cringe inside and his thick lips made her shiver with disgust at the thought they might touch hers.

‘Very well, my word is given. Go to your aunt now and see if you may help her. She was feeling poorly earlier and your skill with herbs may ease her.’

Elaine inclined her head. She had already tended her aunt, for the poor lady suffered with terrible headaches and lay prostrate on her couch. There was no point in telling her uncle that her aunt was now resting. He might visit her to investigate when all that gentle lady needed was a little peace.

Leaving her uncle’s private chamber, Elaine walked through the great hall. The room was always filled with knights and servants going about their business. In winter and even on summer days a huge log fire was kept burning in the hearth, for the stone walls and high vaulted roof made it cold. Sunlight seldom penetrated the tiny slitted windows and it was often dark. Outside it was a glorious autumn day, but in the castle there were dark corners until the torches were lit.

Her dower lands did not boast a stout castle such as this one, merely a manor house, but it was much lighter and the deep windowsills made a perfect place to sit and look out at the gardens and fields that surrounded her mother’s home. She had spent many happy days there in childhood and wished that she might go there now, but her uncle was right. Without a husband to protect her she would be vulnerable and at the mercy of ruthless barons.

‘My lady, will you walk?’ Marion, her companion and faithful servant, came up to her, a basket over her arm. ‘We need herbs for the kitchens. I go to the woods. Will it pleasure you to come with me?’

‘Yes, why not?’ Elaine was already wearing her cloak, for she had intended to walk in the grounds of the castle, but on such a pleasant autumn day it would be enjoyable to go further. ‘Shall we take Bertrand with us?’

‘Bertrand waits for me in the courtyard,’ Marion said. ‘He said that I should not go alone to the woods for he heard of a band of marauding bandits in the area. We have always been safe on your father’s land, but…’ She glanced over her shoulder. ‘Lord Howarth does not send out patrols as often as did your father, lady.’

‘My uncle believes that his name is sufficient to deter those who would come against him. His neighbours are on good terms with him and I think we must be safe enough—but I am happy to have Bertrand with us.’

Bertrand had been courting her lady-in-waiting for some months now. He was a soft-spoken man, tall, strong and pleasant in manner, but somewhat diffident in the presence of ladies. Although he had shown some preference for Marion, he had not asked for her. It would be a good chance for the pair to spend a little time together. Elaine would wander a little ahead of them, giving them the opportunity to speak what was in their hearts if they so chose. If they should ask for her permission to wed, she would give it, but she hoped that Marion would not leave her service, for she loved her as a sister.

She wished with all her heart that Zander had returned to England so that he might accompany them to the woods and a little smile touched her lips as she remembered all the times she’d walked in her father’s woods with the young knight before he’d left for the Holy Land.

‘You know that I love you, Elaine? You know that I would not leave you if there were another way?’

‘Yes, I know.’ Elaine had smiled up into his grey eyes. He was so handsome with his proud noble features, his mouth soft and seductive, his brows fine and dark. Hair the colour of ebony had fallen across his brow and she’d reached up to brush it away. ‘Please promise to come back safely, Zander. I do not care if you bring riches. When I am eighteen my mother’s dower lands become mine. They are all we need to live in peace and happiness together.’

Zander had reached for her, pulling her close to him. His mouth was sweet on hers as he kissed her lingeringly and with such tenderness that it brought tears to her eyes.

‘Know that I shall never love another woman, Elaine. If I do not return for you, it will be because I lie dead in the Holy Land.’

‘No! You must not die, for I could not bear it. Must you go? I wish you would not. Seek honours at court and in time my father will relent.’

‘I must take the Cross and follow the king. Richard seeks to convert the heathen or drive them from God’s Holy City. Only when Jerusalem is ours may we consider our duty done. And then I shall avenge my father…’

‘Supposing you never manage to capture Jerusalem?’

‘If I feel the cause hopeless I shall return—but we are right. God is with us and we must prevail for we undertake His work.’

‘But you leave me behind and break my heart? How can you talk of love and hurt me so?’

Elaine felt the tears on her cheeks. Zander had kissed her deeply with such tenderness that she had not doubted his love. His cause was just and she could not in all conscience have prevented him from leaving.

She dashed her tears away. Her memories were precious and she treasured them. Zander had gone because he believed the king’s cause just and because it was the only way he could earn honours and return a rich knight. All her entreaties had not deterred him and so she’d watched him ride away. The years had been long since then and she had grieved for the love that might have been. While her father lived she had waited patiently, but now her soul cried out to the man she loved.

‘Where are you, Zander?’ she whispered as she followed a few steps behind her serving woman to the courtyard, where the burly groom waited. ‘Please return to me. I beg you, do not desert me.’

Raising her head, Elaine forced a smile to her lips as she passed through the courtyard. No one must realise that she was close to tears. Only a weak woman cried. Elaine was strong. She had won a promise from her uncle and she had more than two months of freedom before she must think about becoming the Earl of Newark’s bride.

‘When do we attack the castle?’ Stronmar looked at his lord, the Earl of Newark, as he walked into the hall where the scene was one of preparation for war. ‘All is ready, you have only to give the word, my lord.’

‘Howarth is a fool,’ the earl growled. ‘He told me that his niece would be mine at Christ’s Mass if I waited in patience, but a man should not be ruled by a woman’s whims. He should force her to obey him. There is no reason to wait.’

‘You do not need to wait. Howarth neglects to send out patrols and believes the rumours of a band of marauding bandits on his land are merely that. He has no idea that we have been the ones attacking travellers and burning the isolated cottages. We leave none to tell the tale.’

‘You have done well,’ the earl said and smiled thinly. ‘Had the lady agreed to the marriage I might have spared her uncle, but I shall not be thwarted. I want her and her lands—but she is Howarth’s heir. When her uncle dies she will be twice the heiress she is now, for besides the castle he has other manors in the north.’

Stronmar grinned, revealing a row of rotten teeth. He was an unfortunate-looking man, his features heavy and ugly, the stench of his breath worse than a latrine. His one redeeming feature was his loyalty to the earl and he would die for the lord who had rescued him when as a young lad he had lain close to starvation after his parents had both died from a terrible fever. The harvests had rotted in the fields that year, for a pestilence had killed most of the villagers. He, too, would have died had the lord not ordered him taken up and carried to his castle, where Stronmar had grown strong and tall as the years passed.

‘The lady will be yours, my lord. Give the word and we shall ride for the castle this very day. The fools will not suspect an attack and we may take them with scarcely a fight.’

‘Then we ride at once,’ the earl said. ‘I see no reason to wait when I may have the lady now. Once I have bedded her she will beg me to marry her. A woman must be shown who is the master or a man is nothing in his own home.’

‘The Lady Elaine is too proud for her own good.’

The earl nodded, his thick lips curving in a sneer. ‘Pride such as hers must be curbed, and methinks I shall find it amusing to teach the wench a lesson she will not forget. Besides, I need an heir, for my wives gave me only daughters.’

‘We have gathered herbs and berries enough,’ Elaine said. Their baskets were filled and the day was drawing to its close. Enjoying the unseasonably warm sunshine and the freedom of being away from the castle, they had strayed a long way from her home in search of berries, herbs and nuts to fill the deep panniers that Bertrand had attached to the pack horse. He was riding his own stout horse while the ladies had ridden Elaine’s palfrey. ‘I think we should go home now.’

‘Yes, my lady.’ Marion smiled at her. ‘Your uncle may grow worried and send out men to search for you if we do not return before nightfall.’

‘I would not have him think we had run away.’ Elaine thanked the groom as he put first her, and then her lady, up on the palfrey. Marion rode pillion behind her, as was the custom for a serving woman, though for some of the day she’d ridden with Bertrand so that the palfrey should not tire of carrying them both.

The little party turned in the direction that would lead them home. They had laughed, talked and danced in the clearing as they gathered their rich harvest and now they were tired, ready for the food and drink that awaited them at the castle. Marion had brought some bread, cheese and a flagon of ale, which they’d shared, as well as feasting on the ripe blackberries that grew in abundance in the woods. Yet even so their thoughts had turned to the supper that would await them and Bertrand apologised for his rumbling stomach.

‘Do not apologise,’ Elaine said and laughed. ‘I think we shall all eat well this night, for there is roasting pig as well as pigeon and capon.’

Her mouth watered at the thought and she realised that she, too, was hungry. It was at that moment that she caught the smell of burning and her nose wrinkled at the stench.

‘Someone has set a fire,’ she said, ‘but I think…’

The words died unspoken, for as they crested the rise they saw the pall of dark smoke hanging over the castle and smelled the awful stench.

‘There has been a fire,’ Marion cried. ‘The keep stands, but the smoke is thick. What can have happened?’

‘The castle has been attacked,’ Bertrand said and brought his horse and the pack pony to a standstill. ‘We must go no further, my lady. You should take shelter over there in the empty barn we passed this morning. I shall leave the horses with you and go on to see what has happened.’

‘You should not go alone,’ Marion said and then blushed at her forwardness. ‘What will happen to us if you should be killed?’

‘Do not fear for me, dear heart,’ Bertrand said and smiled at her. ‘I know how to remain hidden and survey the lie of the land. If my lady’s uncle was attacked in his castle, it must have been a strong force. This was not the work of a band of marauding bandits.’

‘No, I think you are right,’ Elaine said and shivered. ‘We shall do as you ask, Bertrand, but please take care. Marion is right. Without you we should be vulnerable and an easy prey for whoever has done this thing.’

‘You may trust me—I shall not let you down,’ Bertrand said. ‘Stay hidden until you hear my call.’ He made the sound of an owl hooting. ‘As soon as I know how things stand I shall return, my lady. Whatever happens now, I shall protect you both with my life.’

‘I know and I thank God that you were with us,’ Elaine said and shivered. ‘I do not know who has done this wicked thing—but I fear for my aunt and uncle and all our people.’

‘Stay hidden,’ Bertrand bade them and gave the reins of the horses to Elaine and Marion. ‘I shall discover all I can and return to you as quickly as I may.’

He set off at a run, heading towards the castle as the dark gathered about them and the only light was from the red glow that hung over what Elaine guessed to be some outbuildings. She thought that the great hall and the keep still stood, so whoever had attacked the castle had not intended to destroy it, but merely to capture it.

She could only hope that they had been as considerate of the people. The thought of her aunt and uncle lying dead in the castle caught at her heart and brought tears to her eyes. No matter that she’d resisted her uncle’s demands for her marriage, she cared for him and her aunt in her way and prayed that they still lived.

‘Come, my lady,’ Marion said. ‘We must do as Bertrand told us and take shelter. Whoever attacked the castle may pass this way and we should be easy prey.’

‘Yes.’ A little shudder went through her. Had she not gone foraging with Marion she might even now be dead or a prisoner of whoever had attacked her uncle’s castle.




Chapter Two


‘Tell me where your niece is, woman, or you will join your husband in an early grave.’ The Earl of Newark glared at the woman his men had dragged from her chamber and brought to him in the great hall. The remains of his supper lay strewn on the table, for he had ordered the food served even while the stain of his victim’s blood remained on his hands. ‘Tell me where she went and I shall spare you.’

‘If I knew I would tell you,’ the poor lady cried, wringing her hands in distress as she looked about and saw bodies still lying where they had fallen. Some of her husband’s people had tried to defend him and for that they had lost their lives. ‘Forgive me, sir. I lay sleeping when she left the castle and have no knowledge of her whereabouts.’

The earl drew back his mailed fist and struck her a blow that sent her to her knees. She stayed where he had put her, head bowed, weeping with fear and grief.

‘Stop that snivelling, woman,’ he growled. ‘If you are hiding her, it will be the worse for you.’

‘I beg you, lord, do not strike my lady again.’ One of the pages ran forward. ‘I saw the Lady Elaine go riding with her serving woman and the groom Bertrand earlier. They have not yet returned to the castle.’

The earl’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the young page. The boy was slight, but stood proudly before him. He would have felled him, but something in the youth’s manner stayed his hand.

‘You speak the truth?’

‘I swear it on my life, lord.’

Newark nodded. ‘Very well, I believe you. If she took nothing with her, she must return. We shall send out men to find her and bring her back.’ He frowned as the page reached the side of his weeping mistress. ‘Yes, take her away out of my sight.’

As the countess staggered to her feet, he held up his hand. ‘Leave the castle in the morning. You may take your clothes and chattels with you—but the silver and gold remains. If you try to cheat me, I shall kill you.’

The countess bowed her head, making no protest as other servants came forwards to lead her away. She could return to her brother and sister-in-law, who would give her a home. She would not linger until the morning, for she could not wait to leave this place—and she would not stay even to see her husband buried. She would grieve for him, but in her heart she knew that her grief would not last long for he had not been a loving husband. She must thank God that the earl had seen fit to spare her. Whether her brother would take revenge for what had happened remained to be seen.

Allowing her servants to lead her away, the countess wondered what had become of her niece. If she could warn her to stay away from the castle, she would do so, but, since she had no idea where the girl had gone she could do nothing. For all she knew Elaine had taken flight to her dower lands. Yet it seemed she had taken nothing with her so it was more likely that she had merely gone riding, as the page claimed. It was a mercy that she had not been in the castle when the earl attacked them, but no doubt he would have her one way or the other.

Weeping, the countess ordered the packing of her things, secretly hiding a few of her jewels about her person. The earl had too much on his mind to order her searched and she did not intend to leave with nothing. She would take what she dared and leave swiftly, before he changed his mind.

She thought of Elaine’s jewels, but decided it was not worth the risk of trying to steal them away. The earl had ordered a watch kept on the girl’s chambers and any attempt to spirit away her things would meet with a sharp punishment.

Elaine must just make the most of her freedom if she could and perhaps reach her dower lands, though now that her uncle was dead there was no one to protect her even there. The countess could do nothing to help her, for she must throw herself on her brother’s charity and hope that he would take her in.

‘Listen…’ Elaine touched Marion’s hand as she heard the owl hooting. ‘I am sure that is Bertrand. He has returned at last.’

‘I knew he would not let us down.’ Marion rose joyfully as the barn door opened and a shadowy figure entered. ‘Bertrand, is that you?’

‘Yes, dear heart,’ Bertrand said and moved to catch her in his arms, holding her close for a moment before turning to Elaine. ‘Ill news, my lady. The Earl of Newark took the castle by a trick for he came under the guise of friendship. Your uncle was foully slain and your aunt mistreated before being told to leave the castle.’

‘My uncle dead?’ Elaine gasped. her hand flew to her mouth—despite her recent argument with him, she honoured both him and her aunt. He was her father’s brother and, though stern, she knew that he cared what became of her. ‘And my aunt?’

‘Told to leave with her goods and chattels, but not the silver or jewels.’

‘Newark intends to have it all. Why could my uncle not see him for the villain he is?’ Elaine asked, a little sob in her voice. ‘Had I wed him he would not have rested until my uncle was in his grave. We dare not return to the castle. Somehow we must try to reach my dower lands—but I have no money with me. We have nothing but the clothes we wear and the food we gathered.’

‘We have a little more,’ Bertrand said. ‘Your chamber was guarded, my lady. I fear I was able to take nothing of yours, but it was easy to enter Marion’s chamber. I have brought some clothing, which you may share, also some silver and pewter that I managed to snatch. I have a little coin of my own and a few of my own things.’

‘Yes, Marion’s clothing will fit me and it may be best if I change before we begin our journey. If I pass as your sister and Marion your wife, we may escape detection and be safer.’

‘Yes, my lady, that is true,’ Bertrand agreed. ‘I am sorry I could not bring your jewels.’

‘I wear the silver cross and chain my father gave me beneath my gown always,’ Elaine said and smiled. ‘Nothing else matters but our lives. If we can reach my dower lands, we can recruit more men to defend us—though I fear the earl will try to stop us before we reach safety.’

‘Once he realises that you do not intend to return to the castle he is sure to scour the countryside for us,’ Bertrand said. ‘Yet if his men ignore a yeoman and his wife and sister they may pass by without noticing us.’

‘I shall be careful to cover my head and face if we are questioned.’ Elaine looked at him gravely. ‘You know that you both risk much by accompanying me. If the earl captures us, you may suffer for helping me to escape.’

‘I would never desert you,’ Marion declared instantly. ‘We love you, my lady.’

‘Yes, I know it and I thank you. I pray that we shall reach my dower lands safely. Once there we can at least try to defend ourselves.’

‘At least you were not in the castle when he took it,’ Bertrand said. ‘We have the advantage for he will not know where to look. I know you must both be tired, but we ought to leave soon. If we ride through the night, we may get ahead of them.’

‘Will the earl not send men to your dower lands?’ Marion asked.

‘We must try to get there first,’ Bertrand said grimly. ‘Yet we should not go directly south, as he would expect. We shall ride to the east and then double back and that way hope to avoid his patrols. If we are fortunate, he will not send men out until the morning and by then we shall be well ahead of them.’

‘But our horses have carried us all day…’

‘I have brought fresh ones,’ Bertrand said. ‘We should turn your palfrey loose, my lady. If it returns to the castle seeking its stable, the earl’s men may waste time searching for you.’

‘They might think I was thrown.’ Elaine smiled. ‘You have done well, Bertrand. I think we should ride now and continue through the night. We may rest for a little time when we have put some leagues between the castle and us.’

‘You are weary, my friend,’ the dark-skinned servant watched as his master dismounted. ‘Allow me to see to the horses this night. You were sick for so long and you have not yet recovered your strength.’

‘I should have died had it not been for you,’ the knight replied and smiled. In the moonlight his face might have looked handsome to a casual observer, for the deep red welt that marred half of it was hardly noticeable because of his hood of mail. The scar ran from the corner of his left eye to his chin and was still painful to the touch even after many months of healing herbs and lotions applied by the faithful Janvier. ‘Had you and your family not taken me in that day…’

Janvier smiled, his teeth gleaming white against the dusk of his skin. ‘You forget that you saved mine and my whole family when the Christian knights rampaged after Saladin’s men wreaked vengeance on them for the murder of the Moslem prisoners.’

‘Do not remind me of our shame,’ the knight replied wearily. ‘I grow better every day, Janvier, but I will admit that I am tired this night. If we rest for a few hours in the morning, I shall feel much better.’

‘You should go home to your family, my lord.’

‘I have duties to perform before I may rest,’ Zander replied. ‘Tom’s body lies in a place of peace, but his family knows naught of what happened to him. First I must speak with his family, tell them he died bravely and was buried with honour—and then I must seek out the lady of whom I told you.’

‘You will ask her to wed you?’

‘No, not yet, for I must also seek revenge for my father, but if she has not married I shall pledge myself to her, as her protector and her servant—if she wishes it.’

Zander touched the red welt on his cheek. The pain was less now than it had been when it was first inflicted. He’d lain for weeks in a fever and afterwards he’d been too ill to remember who or where he was. It was Janvier who had carried him back to his home and helped to care for him as he raved and cried out in his agony, Janvier who had insisted on accompanying him to England, when he recovered enough to travel.

‘Do you think any woman would wish to marry me now?’ he asked, a touch of bitterness in his voice. ‘Even if she remains unwed, I cannot ask such a sacrifice of her.’

‘If she loves you, it will be no sacrifice. You should at least ask her, my lord. If she has waited all these years, it is your duty to offer her the chance to be your wife.’

‘Perhaps…’ A sigh was on his lips. ‘I dare say she forgot me long ago. She was beautiful, Janvier. Why should she wait for me?’ He pushed the grief from his mind. ‘We must rest now, my friend, for we have a long way to travel yet.’

‘You push yourself too hard.’

‘No, I am better now, merely unused to riding for long periods. If I do not make an effort, I shall never recover my strength. A man who cannot defend himself has no place in this world of ours, Janvier. I went to the wars because I thought our cause was just—and I hoped to win honours and wealth. I won both—but what profit a man if he gain the whole world, but lose his faith and his belief in his fellow man?’

‘You are the most honourable knight I know,’ Janvier said and grinned.

‘And you the best friend a man ever had. I do not know what lies ahead—but I shall make a life for us both here somewhere in this land or another if I prove unwelcome here.’

‘Inshallah,’ Janvier genuflected. ‘What Allah wills shall be. Whether it be your Christian god or mine, we are in His hands.’

‘Yes, it is so, though sometimes I wonder if God is but a comforting myth we humans invented for our own purposes.’

‘You are weary, my lord. Rest and eat. As your strength returns so will your faith.’

‘If I knew how to pray, I would pray you were right.’

Zander inclined his head and sat down on the blanket his servant had placed for him beneath a sheltering oak. The weather was mild enough, but after the heat of foreign lands he was shivering. He hugged his cloak about him and hoped that it was not a return of the fever that had plagued him for so many months.

He must avenge his father’s death. The knight who had had him killed for daring to remonstrate at the way he had caught and beaten a runaway servant, raping the man’s wife and daughter, was a beast who deserved only death. Zander would seek revenge for his father—and for the others the Earl of Newark had brutalised and murdered.

Yet all he truly longed for with his body and his heart was to seek out Elaine and offer her his service. Once he’d hoped for so much more, but now his hopes were ruined—what woman could love a man such as he?




Chapter Three


Hidden by the thickness of the trees and the undergrowth in which they had taken refuge at the sound of horns and approaching horses, Elaine held Marion’s hand. Bertrand had taken the horses on a little, fearing that they might snicker and betray the presence of the two women.

The sound of horses, jingling harness and voices grew louder. The Earl of Newark’s men had gathered in the clearing and were looking for signs.

‘Three horses went this way, my lord,’ one of them cried. ‘See where the undergrowth is flattened. ‘They must have gone this way.’

‘We cannot be far behind now,’ Stronmar said. ‘If we ride hard, we shall find them within the hour. We must find her, for the earl is anxious she should become his bride.’

Marion’s hand was trembling. Elaine held it fast, putting a finger to her lips as they heard the sound of the horses riding away.

‘That man,’ Elaine whispered. ‘I know him. It is rumoured that he is Newark’s son, born of a peasant woman—and he is even more evil than his father.’

‘If they catch Bertrand, they will kill him…’ Marion looked at her fearfully.

‘You must not doubt him. He has kept us safe for two days now.’ Elaine’s heart was racing but she raised her head proudly. ‘Come, we must do as Bertrand told us and make our way across the river. We shall meet back at the mill he spoke of earlier and then it is but another day or so to my dower lands.’

‘Supposing the earl has sent men to your home?’

‘We must meet that possibility when we come to it,’ Elaine said. ‘It seems that they wasted some time in looking for me when my palfrey returned. Bertrand has taken them on a detour and he will return with just two horses, sending the other careering off by itself. Hopefully, the earl’s men will follow it for long enough to get us safe to Sweetbriars.’

‘Even if we reach your home the earl may attack.’

‘Yes, I know.’ Elaine’s face was pale but determined. ‘I can only pray—’ She broke off as they heard the sound of voices. She tensed, listening hard. Newark’s men or someone else?

‘I think there are only a few.’ Marion parted the bushes carefully and looked. ‘Two men ride this way, my lady—a knight, I think, and a servant. The servant’s skin is dark.’

‘Let me see…’ Elaine peered through the bushes and then drew back. ‘The knight’s head and much of his face is covered by his chainmail, but the servant wears strange clothes—the clothes of a Saracen, I think.’

‘Then we must try to avoid them,’ Marion said. ‘They may be some of the Earl’s men.’

Elaine was about to agree, when she saw the servant look at his master anxiously and the knight suddenly slipped unconscious from the saddle.

‘The knight is ill,’ Elaine cried and, before her companion could stop her, she had left the safety of the trees and was running towards them. The servant had dismounted and was securing the horses to a branch, but Elaine was on her knees and bending over the knight in concern. ‘Sir Knight, I think you are ill,’ she said and touched his gloved hand. His eyes were closed, but he moaned faintly and opened them and she felt an odd tingle down her spine. His eyes seemed familiar, but his skin was almost as dark as his servant’s and she could not have seen him before.

‘My master has been very ill,’ the servant said and bent over him, lifting him in his arms as he came to his senses. ‘I am able to care for him. Do not disturb yourself, lady.’

‘I would help you if I can,’ Elaine said. ‘I have some skill with herbs and could make you a tisane to restore his strength.’

‘Give me the herbs and leave us,’ the servant said. ‘My master would not wish to trouble you.’

‘Nay, Janvier,’ the knight said weakly. ‘Do not treat a lady so scurvily.’ His eyes narrowed as he rose to his feet with Janvier’s help. ‘What do you here, mistress? Are you alone?’

‘My brother and his wife are nearby,’ Elaine replied, relieved as she saw Bertrand leading the horses towards them. He had made his detour and was on his way to meet them at the appointed place.

The knight nodded, looking at her oddly. ‘These are dangerous times to travel, mistress. What is your name and where your destination?’

Elaine hesitated. Should she tell him her story? He was ill and something in his eyes made her feel that she could trust him—but in her precarious situation she must be cautious.’

‘We travel to the lands of our lady,’ she replied. ‘My lady is in some danger and we are vowed to help her if we can.’

‘Will you tell me her name?’ the knight asked and now he was standing alone without the help of his servant. ‘It might be that we could travel together. It is safer to travel in numbers.’

‘My lady’s name…’ Elaine faltered. She wanted to tell him the truth, but Marion was shaking her head. It was perhaps too soon to trust the knight, for he might lead them straight to the earl’s men.

‘Her name is the Lady Philippa of Earlsmere,’ she said, the lie coming awkwardly to her tongue. ‘We travel south-west, sir…to the lands of the Marches, between Wales and England.’

‘Then bear us company for a little time until we must go our separate ways,’ the knight said. ‘I think perhaps you are in some trouble, mistress. Although my strength is not yet what it should be, my servant and I would protect you if we could.’

Elaine wavered. Ought she to take this knight at his word? Even as she hesitated, Marion gave her another warning look.

‘You are kind, sir, but we travel alone,’ she said. ‘I shall give your squire the herbs, which must be steeped in hot water for six hours, and half a cup of the mixture drunk twice a day. Their healing properties will help you to regain your strength, sir.’

‘I thank you,’ the knight said. He laid a hand on Janvier’s arm and the servant held back whatever he had meant to say.

Elaine gave the servant the herbs, then allowed Bertrand to help her mount one horse while Marion rode pillion behind him.

‘You took a risk,’ Marion said as they rode away. ‘It might have been a trap.’

‘The knight has been very ill,’ Elaine said. ‘I believe we should have been safe with him, but it was best to be cautious.’

She was conscious of an odd feeling of loss as they rode away. His eyes had said something to her, but she was not sure why they had made her heart race. Her instincts had told her she could trust him, but perhaps Marion was right. He was a stranger and as such could not be trusted once he knew her true identity.

‘The earl’s men have been misled,’ Bertrand said. ‘Yet it will not be long before they discover their mistake and come after us once more. We must put as much distance between us as possible.’

Zander sat silent, lost in his thoughts and unsure of his own feelings.

‘Something lays heavy on your mind,’ Janvier said. ‘You have seemed strange since the stranger came to your aid.’

‘It was she,’ Zander said. ‘She would not tell me her true name and yet, though she is older and a little changed, I know it was Elaine Howarth.’

‘The lady to whom you gave your promise?’

‘Yes. She did not know me, Janvier—or she did not wish to acknowledge it. Either way…’ He shook his head. ‘Yet she was dressed as a yeoman’s sister. Why was she in disguise—and where was she going?’

‘Perhaps she merely bears a likeness to your lady?’

‘I was not certain enough to reveal myself,’ Zander said. ‘I would prefer to be stronger before I offer her my service—and I must still avenge my father.’

‘You must regain your strength before you can think of revenge.’

‘Yes.’ Zander nodded. ‘I feel better now. I think it was merely tiredness that made me fall from my horse—but I should like you to make up the brew she told us of, Janvier. I will try her cure and see if it improves my health.’

‘Do you trust her?’ Janvier said. ‘If she concealed her identity, she lied to you.’

‘Yes, and I believe she is in some trouble. We shall follow where they lead, my friend, a little behind and see what transpires.’

‘I thought you wished to avenge your father?’

‘I do—but if the lady is going where I think she must be, I shall not be so very far from Newark’s lands. He has many manors and one of them lies only a few leagues distant from Sweetbriars.’

‘If you would risk your life for her, she must be special to you, my lord?’

‘I would give my life for hers willingly. I am determined to follow the route they took. We are but half an hour behind them; their horses are of the common sort and will not bear them as swiftly as our destriers. We should catch them before nightfall, but we shall watch them from a distance. I would know more of where they go and why before I reveal myself to her.’

‘We shall rest here for a while by the stream,’ Bertrand said and dismounted. He helped Marion down and then went to assist Elaine. ‘We are sheltered in this hollow and the horses can go no further until they rest for a while.’

Elaine looked about her. They had not seen the stream until they crested The rise. Perhaps the earl’s men would ride by if they came this way.

‘We have no choice,’ she said. ‘The horses are weary and so are we. We must eat and drink and so must our horses, for we should be lost without them.’

‘I will take them to the shallow edge to let them drink,’ Bertrand said. ‘Rest there beneath the tree, lady. Marion will bring you food—and there is water to drink from the well we passed.’

‘Marion must rest before she prepares our food,’ Elaine replied. ‘Later, we will prepare the meal together.’

‘That would not be fitting, my lady,’ Marion said.

‘It would appear odd if I did nothing while you two worked,’ Elaine said with a smile. ‘I am supposed to be your equal, Marion, not your lady. Come, sit and rest beside me, and then we shall prepare the food together.’

‘Do as your lady bids you,’ Bertrand said and led the horses to the edge of the stream, where they began to drink thirstily.

Elaine was deep in thought when Marion sat on the blanket beside her and rested her back against the tree. She had not been able to put from her mind the thought of the knight who had been so exhausted that he fell from His horse. She wondered if he had been to the Holy Land and whether he had been injured there. His servant was most likely a Moor or a Saracen, though how could it be that he had chosen to serve a Christian knight? Elaine was certain the knight must be one of those who had taken the Cross and followed King Richard on his crusade. Why else would his skin be so dark that he looked like a Saracen?

What was it about his eyes that seemed so familiar? She puzzled over it in her mind but, though the answer seemed close, it lay behind a curtain of mist. She could never have met him, for surely she would remember?

Zander looked down from the rise on the man and two women as they began to load their belongings on to the packhorse. Then the man came to help the woman who claimed to be his sister up to her horse before seeing to his wife. There was something reverential about the way he assisted his sister—but of course that was merely a disguise.

The lady was a lady, not a person of the yeoman class. He’d known when he heard her voice and as time passed grew more certain that she was Elaine Howarth—the woman he had pledged to return and marry. Her face had been a little brown for she’d always had a true English-rose complexion—but mayhap she had stained it with walnut juice. Some of the knights had used that ruse when trying to infiltrate the Saracen’s camp.

His thoughts led him to the same conclusion; she and her companions were hiding from someone—someone who meant them harm. Zander watched the two horses and their riders move away and then let his horse wander down to the water’s edge. They had ridden hard and could afford to let their quarry go on a little. It had been easy enough to discover their route, for they had stopped in a nearby village to take water from the well and buy bread and cheese.

Why would Elaine choose to ride with so few escorts? She must know that she was at the mercy of unscrupulous men. Even with her face stained she was lovely—and there were many that would want her dower lands. Why would her father allow it?

Perhaps her father had died and she was at the mercy of some unscrupulous guardian.

Of course! The solution came to him in a flash. She was hiding from someone who wished to force her into marriage and take her fortune for himself.

Zander frowned. She needed his protection, but she had refused to trust a stranger, fearing that she would be led into a trap. He must either reveal himself to her—which he was reluctant to do yet—or he must follow behind and watch over her.

He was not yet strong enough to fight for her himself, though Janvier would do his best if asked to lend his protection. Zander knew that when he sought revenge on his enemy he would need strong men to fight for him. He must recruit them—and they would soon be at the estate of his uncle, his mother’s brother, Sir Roderick Harvey. There they would find friends, but if he stayed with them he might lose sight of Elaine.

‘You must follow the lady and her companions,’ he told Janvier as he brought food and wine from their packhorse. ‘This night I shall stay with my uncle and follow in the morning with all the men I can muster.’

‘Leave you to travel alone?’ Janvier looked at him uneasily. ‘If you should faint again…’

‘I shall not, for I feel a little better. Give me some of Elaine’s herbs and I will brew them this night.’

Janvier frowned. ‘You place much trust in a lady who would not trust you with her name or destination.’

‘I know where she goes. We have been heading steadily south-west all day. She means to try to reach her dower lands. I fear that rogues are pursuing her.’

‘It is your wish that I follow and do what I can to protect them?’

‘For the love you bear me, protect her whom I love if you can,’ Zander said. ‘In the morning we shall follow and in good time I dare say we shall come up with you.’

‘I am only one man, perhaps against many. Yet I will seek to do as you ask, my lord.’

Zander frowned—he did not wish to lose his friend. ‘I think if this man desires her in marriage he will not seek to harm, only to capture—it may be best if you simply follow and observe. Should she fall prey to some rogue’s perfidy, follow her to see where he takes her and then come for me. I shall not be long behind you.’

Janvier nodded. He lifted his flask and drank deeply. ‘If I believed it possible, I would help her, my lord—but I shall do as you order me.’

Zander nodded. The two men clasped hands and set off in their different ways. Zander’s head was aching again, but he ignored it, determined to reach his uncle’s house before nightfall. His mother’s brother would do all he could to supply him with men he could trust—good fighting men who would stand by him.

He had thought to wait until he reached his father’s lands, but now he had no choice. If Elaine was in danger, he must protect her somehow.

Elaine glanced over her shoulder. She had an odd feeling that they had been followed from first light, when they left the barn that had sheltered them from the night. A willing farmer had supplied food and a place to rest after Bertrand gave him most of their money. She touched the silver cross that hung beneath her tunic. It was precious to her, but they would soon need more funds; she must sacrifice the necklace, if need be. Her friends had already done much for her and she could not ask them to go hungry when she had the means to ease their predicament.

Looking round again, she thought she saw a man riding a horse, but he was hidden in the trees that bordered the track on which they rode. Her spine tingled and yet she did not feel that the presence of her shadow was menacing.

When a little later they left the woods behind, she caught sight of the man again, and this time she knew him. He was the knight’s servant.

Was the knight with him—and why was he following her?

Elaine was considering whether she should stop and let him come up with her, then demand an explanation or tell Bertrand and try to throw him off. Before she could decide, she heard a shout from ahead and suddenly saw a party of six horsemen bearing down on them. They wore the yellow-and-black colours of the Earl of Newark and Bertrand signalled to her to ride away into the trees.

‘You must hide, lady,’ he said. ‘We shall go another way and hope to draw them off. From this distance they cannot see us clearly. Go back into the woods and hide. If we escape them, we shall return to look for you—if we do not…you must go on alone somehow.’

‘You risk your lives for me.’

‘Waste no time in regrets—go now, my lady, before they come up with us and see you.’

Reluctantly, Elaine turned back into the woods. Her throat hurt and she was close to tears. Her darling Marion and Bertrand had already done too much for her. For a moment she was tempted to turn back and let the earl’s men take her rather than risk the lives of her servants. Yet she knew that Bertrand would never stand by and see her captured. She must hope that they managed to outrun the earl’s soldiers.

Leading her horse further into the woods, she dismounted and sat down on a fallen tree. Bending her head, she covered her face, feeling close to tears. If they did not return, how would she ever manage to reach her home?

‘Your friend is a brave man, lady.’

Elaine’s head came up as she heard the man’s voice and knew it for that of the knight’s servant.

‘You have been following us,’ she said. ‘You are alone—where is your master? Is he ill?’

‘My lord went to the house of his uncle to recruit men to ride with us,’ Janvier said. ‘He sent me to watch over you, for he feared that you were in danger.’

‘Yes, I am,’ Elaine said. She saw with blinding clarity that she no longer had an option: she must trust the knight and his squire. ‘I am pursued by the Earl of Newark, because he wishes to capture me and force me to be his wife. I am…heiress to some lands he covets because they run close to his own. My father would never listen to his offers to buy the land and now he seeks to take them for himself.’

‘Come, lady, mount your horse and let me take you to my lord. He cannot be far behind us now. Once you have his escort you will be safe—we should give our lives to protect you.’

Elaine hesitated. Her instinct had been to trust the knight, but Marion had warned her to hide her identity from him. Now that she had confessed part of her story, she would tell the knight the whole when they reached him.

Hearing some voices back the way she had come, Elaine lost no time in mounting her horse and following Janvier back through the trees. For a while it seemed as though the voices were following them, but then Janvier pulled her along a narrow track that led close to a dangerous ravine. Her nerves jangling, she allowed him to lead her horse, closing her eyes and refusing to look down.

‘We are safe now, lady. I saw this track earlier, but most would not notice it. I think we can rest now for a little.’

‘Thank you.’ Elaine allowed him to help her down. she sank onto the blanket he placed for her and leaned back against a tree. Tears were very close, but she refused to shed them, though she could not help thinking of Marion and Bertrand.

‘Your friends may have managed to give them the slip. It is clear that the earl split his forces to follow you—perhaps this will save them.’

‘Yes, perhaps,’ Elaine said and took the bread and cheese he offered, breaking small pieces to eat. ‘You, too, could have died if they caught us.’

‘There were no more than three. I am a match for them,’ Janvier said. ‘I thought it best to lead you to safety if I could, but had it been necessary I should have given my life to save you.’

‘Why?’ Elaine looked at him in wonder. ‘You do not know me—why would you risk so much for me?’

Janvier shook his head. ‘It is my lord who would keep you safe. He is the most honourable knight in Christendom—and he would not see any woman fall prey to the man who pursues you.’

‘You have heard of the Earl of Newark?’

‘Yes—but I shall say no more. You must learn what else you need to from my lord.’

Elaine nodded. ‘I am ready to go on, sir. I would meet with your lord before nightfall if ’tis possible.’

‘Come then, lady,’ Janvier said. ‘For I think he is close behind us.’




Chapter Four


‘I am glad to be of service to you,’ Sir Roderick said as he clasped Zander’s hands. ‘I honour you for all you have suffered in the Lord’s cause, and my men will serve you faithfully for as long as you need them.’

‘When I secure my father’s keep I shall employ more and send them back to you.’

A shadow passed across his uncle’s face. ‘I fear there is little there to reclaim, Zander. The lands were small, as you know, for your father fell into debt and forfeited some acres. His keep is nought but a mouldering ruin.’

‘Then I shall restore it and build a fine manor house,’ Zander said. ‘I have won both honours and a fortune, Uncle. I shall restore the name of my father and bring his lands back into good heart so that there is food and a place to live for those that are still loyal.’

‘Then go with my blessing and may the peace of God be upon you, Nephew.’

‘My soul can never be at peace until I avenge my father,’ Zander replied, but he smiled and clasped his uncle’s hand. ‘I thank you for your help and now I must go, for I fear my lady is in great danger.’

He mounted his horse, signalled to the men his uncle had assigned to him, and set off at a canter from the moated manor house. It was a secure stronghold and his uncle was a powerful man who employed more than one hundred men-at-arms. The horses’ hooves clattered across the wooden bridge, eleven men in all—and every one a good fighting soldier.

Zander hoped that soon he would recover his strength. He had taken two measures of the cure brewed from the herbs Elaine had given him and was feeling a little less exhausted. The dizziness that had plagued him for weeks seemed to have gone. He smiled as he bent forwards over his horse. He would not faint and fall again and they must hurry—if they delayed, it might be too late.

Elaine’s heart caught with apprehension as they saw a band of men galloping down the road towards them. It looked a larger party this time and she feared that the Earl of Newark had sent more men to look for them. Here there were no woods to hide them and to flee back the way they had come would be useless.

‘If they wish to take me, you must allow it,’ she said to Janvier. ‘I do not wish you to sacrifice your life for me. The Earl’s men will not harm me; he needs me alive so that he can claim my lands without fear of reprimand or retribution.’

Janvier smiled as the horsemen came closer. ‘Fear not, lady. ’Tis but my lord and the men who serve him.’

‘Oh…’ For some reason Elaine’s heart beat even faster and her stomach twisted with nerves. There was something about the knight she could not place and yet instinctively she had trusted him. ‘I must thank God for his arrival.’

The party of some ten men or more came to a halt. The knight lifted his hand in greeting. ‘Well met, lady,’ he said. ‘Where are your companions?’

Was she wise to trust this unknown knight? She might be going from the heat of the cooking pot to the fire.

The knight dismounted and came to help her down. His men were also dismounting, to rest and eat, for they had ridden hard. He came to Elaine and held out his arms to assist her to dismount. She slid down into them and for a moment he held her. It was strange how comfortable and right it seemed, but she did not know this man and after a moment to catch her breath she moved away from him.

‘We must talk, lady,’ he said and took off his cloak, spreading it beneath the branches of a sturdy oak for her to sit. She declined and remained standing. ‘You should know that I mean you no harm and will help you in whatever way I can—but you must tell me where you go and who pursues you.’

‘I told your servant when he found me this morning,’ Elaine said. ‘A man who wishes to force me into marriage is pursuing me. He invaded my uncle’s castle and killed him, before sending my aunt penniless from her home. Marion and Bertrand drew the earl’s men off earlier this morning. Bertrand told me to hide in the woods—but then your servant came. The earl’s men must have split, because some came after us, but Janvier led me to safety. I am grateful for your service, sir, and would reward you.’ She took a deep breath, then, ‘I am Lady Elaine Howarth and my only hope is to reach my dower lands.’

‘Yes, it is much as I thought,’ the knight said. ‘Let us not speak of reward, lady. I am a true knight and it is my duty to protect any in need—particularly a lady of gentle birth.’

‘Then I can only thank you—and offer my help if ever I can assist you.’

‘Will you tell me the name of the rogue that plans such evil?’

‘He is the Earl of Newark and ruthless,’ she said, her eyes suddenly blazing with anger. ‘I will never marry him. I would rather die.’

‘Then he would merely take your lands for himself,’ the knight said and something made her look into his eyes. They were grey and as cold as ice, and his mouth had become thin and hard.

‘What do you know of him?’ she asked, her pulses racing. Her heart was thudding now and she was certain that she should know this man. Her instincts could not be wrong. She’d met this man before, though she knew not when or how. ‘Who are you, Sir Knight?’

‘Newark tricked and murdered my father,’ he said harshly. For a moment he turned away from her. His shoulders straightened and then he reached up to pull back the hood of chainmail, turning to face her. ‘Do you not know me, Elaine? I knew you at once, though you have hidden your hair and stained your face.’

She stared at him, her eyes drawn to the livid scar that ran the length of his face, from the corner of his left eye to his chin. It had puckered and the whole side of his face was red and inflamed. For a moment she did not recognise this man with black hair that was streaked with grey, but then, all at once, she knew. It was he, though the years and the hot sun of the Holy Land had wreaked havoc with his looks.

‘Zander…?’ She moved towards him hesitantly. He looked so different, sterner and older—much older than his years—and the scar was ugly, making her heart contract with pain. The beautiful youth who had declared his love before he left her had gone and in his place was a man she did not know. ‘Is it truly you?’

‘Yes, Elaine,’ he said. ‘It is I—older and battle-scarred, as you see—but I am Zander, lord of the lands my father bequeathed to me and I bear his name. I am Sir Zander de Bricasse and lord of Penbury.’

‘Oh, my love, you have been sorely hurt,’ Elaine said. Her instinct was to go to him and kiss him, but something held her back. He was Zander, the man she loved, and yet he was not the same. There was a distance about him, as if he had placed a barrier between them and she was not sure what to do. ‘I am so sorry…’

‘Save your tears for those who need them,’ he said in a harsh tone. ‘I do not wish for pity, Elaine. I should not have revealed myself had it not been that you must trust me if I am to deliver you safely to your home.’

‘Zander…’ Her lips trembled. ‘It was not pity, but love that made me speak thus. I have always loved you.’

‘You loved the man I was—not the man I am now,’ he said, voice gruff with emotion. ‘Give me no promises, lady. I do not ask them of you. I release you from the vow you made those many years gone.’

‘I do not wish to be released,’ Elaine said, but her voice was little more than a whisper, and in truth she was not sure what she felt. The scar was terrible and disfigured one half of his face, but she knew of unguents and cures that would help it, easing the pain and infection so that it would no longer be so inflamed. Nothing could make his beloved face as it had once been, but, if he would let her, she could ease the pain he must be feeling and heal the wound so the scar would not be so livid. It was not so much his appearance, but his manner, the distance between them, that made her hesitant. ‘If you wish me for your wife, I should be honoured, sir.’

A nerve twitched in his throat, his eyes narrowing as they dwelt on her face. ‘It is too soon to speak of these things, lady. For the moment I must see you safe to your home—and then I must avenge my father. I am not sure whether you knew that Newark was his enemy. My father slighted him once in some way, defied him and would not bend the knee to such an evil man. Newark never forgot or forgave him. He had him set upon by knaves and beaten to death, as if he were less than the lowest churl. I shall seek him out as soon as I am ready and avenge my father’s death like a knight.’

‘He is so rich and powerful,’ Elaine said fearfully. ‘You will need more men before you can challenge the earl.’

‘This I know. These men are loyal to my uncle and will be loyal to me for as long as I need them, but I shall gather a powerful army and I will bring Newark to his knees somehow.’

Elaine’s heart ached for his pain, physical and mental, but she could not take him in her arms for she felt he would reject her.

‘Then I wish you luck, sir,’ she said.

He nodded and replaced the hood of mail, hiding most of his face. Now she saw why it had been so difficult to recognise him, though her mind had sensed something. He looked so much older, hardened by battle and suffering. Elaine longed to reach him, to tell him that her love was strong enough to survive all that had happened, but what right did she have to claim his love? The Zander who had gone to fight in the Holy wars had loved her, but how could she know what was in this man’s heart? In the years between he might have loved another. She might be merely a distant memory. How could she claim his love and loyalty if he did not wish to give them?

‘We should leave if we are to reach your dower lands before Newark finds us,’ Zander said. ‘I can protect you from much—but not if we are too heavily outnumbered, so we shall move swiftly and travel through the night.’ He held out his hand to her. ‘Are you able to ride on alone, or shall I take you up with me?’

‘I can ride alone, but you…’ Her words were banished, for to speak of his weakness the previous day might anger or humiliate him.

‘Your herbs have helped me, Elaine. Perhaps you would brew more for me this night?’

‘Yes, my lord. I shall be happy to do anything I can to repay you. I could also help the pain in your cheek—if you would let me?’

‘How do you know it pains me?’

‘Because I can see that the poison has gathered beneath the skin. It needs to be opened and cleansed, the pus removed and then unguents applied to heal the flesh beneath.’

‘Had you seen the wound Janvier tended you would not have thought this so terrible,’ he said and smiled slightly. ‘The pain I bear now is nothing to that I have suffered.’

‘Yet it could be eased, sir.’ Elaine looked at him proudly. She raised her head, gazing into his eyes. If he thought her still a child, he was wrong. ‘I have spent the years you were away learning the skills a chatelaine needs to keep her people well and happy. I have learned much of herbs and healing.’

‘Your mother was a healer, though she died too young—what happened to your father, Elaine?’

‘My father died but a few months since. He had a wasting sickness that none could heal. My cures eased his suffering, but I could not save him—only God could have done that.’

‘Is there a God?’ Zander asked, a twist of bitterness about his mouth. ‘Once I took up the Cross for His sake—but now I question He exists. Only a cruel god would allow the suffering that I have seen, not just on the field of battle—but innocents…children…’

Elaine stared at him. Her faith was strong and it hurt her to hear such words on his lips. ‘It is not God who makes us suffer, but the evil that is in the world and in us. God forgives us no matter what we do.’

‘Such blind faith,’ Zander said. ‘I wish that I could believe as you do, but I cannot—my faith died with an innocent boy and so many others. So much blood stained the earth of the land we call Holy.’

‘I cannot understand what makes you say these words,’ Elaine told him, ‘but I know that you have seen and felt too much. God will forgive you and take you back into His love, Zander. One day He will give you his peace.’

‘When I am dead, perhaps?’ Something flickered in his eyes. ‘Now you see why I am not fit to be your husband, Elaine. Yet I vow to protect you with my life, unworthy as it is.’

Her throat was tight with tears. She did not know what to say to this man. He was bitter and angry, disillusioned with all that had made him the man of ideals and faith she had loved. In truth, she was not sure that she would wish to wed him now.

Keeping her emotions hid as best she could, Elaine allowed him to help her mount her horse. His words had hurt her, but she would not let him see her weep. He was a stranger to her and only time would tell if there was anything left inside him of the man she’d loved.

They rode far and hard. Elaine was weary long before they stopped. When at last they came to a house that it seemed was known to Zander, she almost collapsed into his arms dismounting. He saw it at once and carried her into the house, the door of which opened, as if they expected him.

‘Zander, my friend,’ a tall blond knight said as he came to greet them. ‘Welcome to my home. When I learned that you still lived my heart was gladdened. Come in, friends. My house is yours while you need it.’

‘My lady needs a bed,’ Zander said. ‘She is in danger, Philip, and I have vowed to protect her—for that I may need your help. When she reaches her dower lands it may be that Newark’s men are before us. I do not have the force to make him yield, but he would yield to you.’

‘He will yield or I’ll have him arrested and thrown in gaol. I am the King’s Marshal in these parts and I have forbidden the barons to quarrel amongst themselves. Any that defy my decree shall be outlawed, forced to seek their bread in another land.’

‘Then I can rely on you to protect her,’ Zander said. ‘But where may she rest this night?’

‘Anne will take her to her own chamber,’ Lord Philip Henry of Stornway said. ‘My sister remains unwed, for she cannot find a man that pleases her and, fool that I am, I shall not force her.’

A tall woman came forwards. She was thin, but not uncomely, her long dark hair plaited and hanging down her back. Around her brow she wore a thin band of silver, to which a fine veil was attached. They were not alike—they had been born of different mothers, both of whom had died soon after giving birth.

‘Come this way, sir,’ she invited. ‘I shall care of her this night.’

‘She is but exhausted,’ Zander said. ‘I pushed her too hard, but I feared Newark still hunted for her.’

‘He is not a good man,’ Anne Stornway said, a thin smile on her lips. ‘He asked for my hand when I was but thirteen, but my uncle and brother sent him away. I am five and twenty now and past the age of marriage, but if the earl asked me a thousand times I would not take him.’

Zander nodded grimly, carrying Elaine into the comfortable chamber that Anne led them to. The tester bed was hung with silk damask and the covers were fine Frankish velvet, woven in Rheims. Her pillows were of linen cases stuffed with goose feathers; it was the finest linen to be found in all Christendom, as were the sheets she pulled back so that he could place his precious burden down. For a moment he stood looking at Elaine as her eyelids fluttered and she cried out his name.

‘You are betrothed?’ Anne asked and Elaine heard their voices as from a distance.

‘We were once betrothed,’ Zander said and threw back his hood. ‘How can I ask a gentle lady to look at this every day of her life?’

‘If she loved you, she would seek only to ease your pain. I have unguents that would ease you. I shall give you some. Your servant may treat you, for the wound is healing, but needs something to ease it. I should be glad to offer you my cure, Sir Knight.’

‘You are kind, lady,’ Zander said. ‘I have lived with the pain for months. I can bear it—at least until I have time to rest.’

Anne bowed her head and turned away. Unlike Elaine, she knew better than to argue with a man of his ilk; she had learned as a young girl that it was better to appease than quarrel, though he hadn’t noticed there was a tiny flame of anger in her eyes.

Elaine moved her head on the pillows and her eyelids flickered. Zander looked at her and moved away from the bed.

‘I shall leave you to tend her,’ he said to Anne, walked away and left, closing the door behind him.

Anne gazed after him a moment and then shook her head. Men were such fools. There was no understanding them. And this one roused such feelings in her that she had difficulty maintaining her air of calm, but she must—she must for otherwise she would betray herself.

She moved back to the bed just as Elaine started up in fear. Again she called Zander’s name and looked about her, tears on her cheeks.

‘I dreamed he came to me…’ she said. ‘I dreamed he came back—but he was not the same.’

Anne sat on the edge of the bed. She reached out to touch the younger girl’s face. Anne could feel only pity for this young woman.

‘Hush, lady. Lord Zander is not far away. He is anxious for your safety—but he is a man. They do not understand us or our needs. No man is worth a woman’s tears, believe me.’

Elaine blinked the tears away. She pushed herself up against the pillows, looking at her curiously, for there had been bitterness in her voice. ‘Who are you, lady? I have not seen you before.’

‘I am sister to Philip, Lord of Stornway. In King Richard’s absence he is Marshal here and tries to keep the peace between the warring barons, but ’tis a thankless task. Most are too stubborn and too proud. My brother is sorely troubled by their lawless behaviour. I wish that the King would return and bring some order to this land.’

‘You speak truly,’ Elaine said and this time the tears would not be stopped. ‘The Earl of Newark gained my uncle’s trust and then tricked him. He took all that was my uncle’s—and would have had me, too, had I not run away.’

Anne listened to her tale to the end and then nodded. ‘So Lord Zander came to your rescue, but it hurts you because he is not as he was?’ Elaine nodded, noticing the odd look in Anne’s eyes. ‘He has suffered things you could not even imagine, lady. My brother has spoken to returning knights before this. He has told me some of what he heard, but some he hid from me—though I guessed what he would not say. Lord Zander needs time to recover, to heal inside as well as out. One day he will be himself again. He should allow me to help him cure the wound to his cheek, but he is too proud.’

‘I fear that you are right and I hope that he will find peace one day.’

‘Only God can heal what ails him. My brother finds comfort in the Good Lord and so must we all.’ Anne crossed herself piously, but her eyes avoided Elaine’s, as though she would hide her innermost thoughts.

‘Amen to that,’ Elaine said. ‘My faith never wavered. I always believed that God would bring him back to me—but now…’

‘Now your love must be stronger,’ Anne said. ‘You must fight not only for his love, but for his soul. Restore him to his faith and he will be the man you love again. His physical scars may remain, but they will fade and are as nothing to the loss of his soul.’

‘How wise you are,’ Elaine said and smiled at her. ‘I must wait and see what time will do.’

‘As we all must. Now I must go, for my brother needs me to order his house when we have guests. A servant will come to bring food and drink.’

‘I am simply tired,’ Elaine said. ‘I shall sleep well this night, for I know we are safe. Even the Earl of Newark dare not attack the King’s Marshal.’

‘Not here in this stronghold for we are too well protected, but he might if he found us unprotected—that man is more evil than you know. I think there is little he would not dare.’

‘I know well of his misdeeds,’ Elaine said. ‘My serving woman had a sister and she was sent to serve the Earl of Newark’s first wife. When that gentle lady died at her vile husband’s hands, because she gave him a daughter and not the son he craved, she ran away. I found a place for her with my aunt so that she could be close to her sister—but I do not know what happened to her when my uncle was tricked into surrendering the keep.’

‘Then you must take great care—Newark is a vengeful man. Sleep now, lady, and I shall wake you in the morning to break your fast in good time, though your journey should be safer now, for my brother will send an escort with you. If Newark defies them, he will bring the King’s wrath on himself.’

‘Thank you.’ Elaine sighed as Anne went out and lay down, closing her eyes.

‘Zander,’ she whispered, tears upon her cheeks as she drifted into sleep. ‘Zander, please come back to me…’




Chapter Five


Zander stood in the shadows of the room. The slitted window allowed little light into the lady’s chamber, but his eyes were accustomed to the gloom and what light there was fell across her pale face. He had risen before cockcrow to prepare for the next day of their journey and Anne Stornway was already about her business, ordering her servants. She’d told him that Elaine was sleeping and advised leaving her to rest until the last moment.

‘She has suffered a terrible shock and it is as much grief as the strain of riding so far that made her give way last night, sir. You should be gentle with her.’

‘I am but a rough knight, not a courtier,’ Zander said. ‘You do not need to tell me that I am unworthy of her.’

‘What do court manners matter where love is?’ Anne asked, her head up. ‘I do not boast when I say that more nobles than you may imagine have courted me. Only one hath touched my heart, but he died. If I had found another man I counted as true and honourable, I would have wed him, but I have not.’

‘I am sorry for your loss, lady. You would make any man a fine wife, but I dare say your brother could not spare you.’

‘He would be pleased to see me happy,’ she said. ‘I’ve hoped that he would fall in love and bring his bride here to bear me company, but he is as hard to please as his sister.’

Zander laughed. ‘I think Philip hath too much comfort for his own good, lady. Why should he wed when he has you?’

‘I have my uses,’ she said. ‘Once again I offer my cure. It would ease your pain and the redness.’ There was something almost urgent in her tone, as if she wished to force acceptance from him.

‘I thank you, but I prefer to leave such things to my servant.’

‘Very well. Leave your lady to sleep a little longer.’ Anne turned aside, but he caught the flicker of resentment in her eyes and wondered at it.

Zander inclined his head as she went about her work, but he had not been able to resist coming to Elaine’s chamber to look at her. Now that her lovely hair was spread upon the pillows she looked more like the girl he’d loved, though her skin still bore traces of the stain she’d used to disguise herself. She was so beautiful that his heart caught and he longed to sweep her into his arms and kiss her, to feel her soft skin against his and to make her his own—but that could never happen now.

It would be unfair to her. He was not the man she’d loved. War had hardened him, made him bitter. He would hurt her and she might be left a widow before she was hardly a wife. Zander could never break the vow he’d made to avenge his father. In his heart he knew that the enemy he faced was treacherous and so powerful that even he might not survive the fierce fight that must ensue.

Zander was determined to challenge his enemy to single-handed combat, but first he must regain his strength. Janvier had made him more of the cure with the herbs Elaine had given them and, again, Zander felt an improvement. He was not so easily tired and yet still he could not swing his great broadsword with the strength he would need for battle. Much as he wanted to destroy his enemy, he was not yet ready.

Elaine was stirring. He was torn between leaving her and yet he stayed, wanting to see her wake. Her eyelids flickered and he noticed how dark her lashes were despite the fairness of her hair, then her eyes opened and she looked at him. the smile of wonder and joy that spread from her eyes over her face cut Zander to the heart; it was the smile he recalled so well, the smile that had helped him through the pain-racked nights, drawing him back from the very mouth of hell. It was her smile that had kept him hanging on by a thread, his spirit almost done, the pain so terrible that his body craved the peace of death—and yet he had lived. He had lived because she lived, and now he would live to serve her if he could.

‘Zander…’ The note of wonder in her voice made him frown. ‘I dreamed of you…but you are here…’

‘I am real, but not as you knew me.’

Elaine sighed and his heart caught with pain as he saw the joy and the wonder drain from her, leaving only sadness and uncertainty.

‘I am sorry to wake you, lady,’ he said. ‘But we should be leaving soon. I have sent scouts on ahead to see if Newark hath taken your manor and lies in wait, hoping to draw you into a trap.’

‘And if he has?’ Elaine was fully awake now, modestly drawing the sheet to her chest as she sat up. ‘I do not know where else to go.’

‘I have little to offer you. I think my father’s manor may be almost a ruin—but Anne would take you back here until I could find somewhere suitable for you to live.’

‘My lands are all I have.’

‘I brought a fortune home, as I promised you, Elaine. If my father’s manor lies in ruin, I shall buy a house worthy of you. One that hath stout walls, a moat and a gate that can be drawn up.’

‘But…’ Elaine blushed. ‘I should not wish to be a burden to you if…’

‘You could never be that,’ he said. ‘I shall leave you to dress, but I pray you come down to the courtyard swiftly, for I would be away.’

He turned and left her, his mind in turmoil. If Newark had stolen all Elaine had, it might be that his only course was to wed her. He knew her pride would forbid her to live on his charity. In that eventuality, she might be left penniless and vulnerable, forced to work as a servant for her bread. Marriage to Zander would then be the better alternative. He would honour and protect her while he lived—and if he died his fortune would be hers. To protect her he would appoint Philip of Stornway as her guardian.

Zander’s heart thudded against his ribs as he went down the twisted stair to the great hall, which was a scene of activity as men prepared to leave with him. Armour and supplies had been loaded onto the packhorses, and knights were already wearing their coats of chainmail beneath their tabards.

Zander saw his squire talking with Lady Anne. She was laughing and talking animatedly, her face alight with interest as she listened to Janvier’s words. Janvier turned his head and saw him; he bowed to the lady and walked towards Zander.

Zander caught the look of annoyance on the lady’s face before it was swiftly hidden and once again he wondered. Why should Anne be angry and yet try to hide it?

He knew that the Saracen’s family was noble, but he was penniless, stripped of his land and much he’d had by marauding knights. What little was left he had given to his mother and sister—all that was left of a once-proud family. He’d refused Zander’s offer of gold for saving his life in favour of becoming his servant, but he was a proud and clever man. By birth and intellect he was the equal of Anne of Stornway, but the colour of his skin and his lack of wealth made him a pauper in a strange land—and not a man her brother would consider fit to be her husband.

What nonsense was he at now? He must have a touch of fever to even think of such things. If the lady could guess at what was in his mind, she would no doubt think herself insulted. Zander smiled sadly. How unfair was life? Would that respect and love were all, but in the world Zander knew pride and prejudice ruled the heart and marriages were made for land, not love.

‘Are you ready to leave, my lord?’

‘We but await my lady,’ Zander said and then something warned him and he turned to look at the stone steps that led to the solar. Elaine had taken him at his word and she was dressed, seemingly ready to continue.

‘You feel able to continue?’ Zander asked as she came towards him.

‘Yes, my lord. I am fully rested. I think we have not so far to go now.’

‘It is but a few hours’ ride from here,’ he said and offered her his hand. Even as she took it, Anne came up with them.

‘If you wished, Lady Elaine could stay until you are sure that rogue has not taken her lands. I should be glad of her company.’ Anne said, smiling at them, no trace now of the resentment he’d glimpsed earlier. ‘You know that you may trust my brother to guard her for you.’

‘I must go with Zander,’ Elaine said, an odd little shiver at her nape. Something told her not to stay here, though these people were clearly Zander’s friends. ‘My people will not be certain they can trust him unless I am there. If they have barred the gates against Newark, they will only open to me.’




Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/anne-herries/promised-to-the-crusader/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.