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