The four men were very quiet as they made their way to waiting horses. Gavin had not told anyone except John Bassett of his journey to find Stephen. The three men who rode with him had all fought with Gavin in Scotland and they knew the rough, wild countryside. The group would travel as lightly as possible, without a herald carrying the Montgomery banner before them. All the men wore brown and green in an attempt to draw as little attention to themselves as possible.
They slipped silently into their saddles and walked their horses away from the sleeping camp.
They were barely ten miles from the camp when they were surrounded by twenty-five men wearing Demari’s colors.
Gavin drew his sword and leaned over to Odo. “I will attack and cut a path through. You escape and get to Stephen.”
“But my lord! You will be killed!”
“Do as I say,” Gavin commanded.
Demari’s men encircled the little group very slowly. Gavin looked about to find their weakest spot. They looked at him smugly, as if they knew the battle was already won. Then Gavin saw Humphrey Bohun. The rapist grinned in delight to see his former master so cornered.
Immediately, Gavin knew where he’d made his mistake. He’d spoken to John about his journey in front of this piece of filth. Gavin nodded to Odo, lifted his long steel broad sword with both hands on the hilt and charged. Demari’s men were stunned. They had orders to take Lord Gavin prisoner. They’d assumed that when he was outnumbered more than six to one, he would surrender docilely.
That moment of hesitation cost Humphrey Bohun his life and allowed Odo to escape. Gavin hacked at the traitor, and he died before he could even grab his sword. Another and another fell under Gavin’s sword as it flashed brilliantly against the rays of the rising sun. Odo’s well-trained animal leaped over the dead bodies and the screaming horses, and galloped for the safety of the woods. He had no time to see if anyone followed him. He kept his head low and molded himself to his horse.
Gavin had chosen his men well. The two who were now beside him backed their horses together, the animals trained to follow the commands given by their masters’ knees. The three men fought valiantly and when one of them fell, Gavin felt part of himself fall. They were his men and he was close to them.
“Cease!” a voice commanded over the clash of steel against steel, the cries of anguish.
The men drew back quickly and when their eyes cleared, they began to access the damage. At least fifteen of Demari’s men lay dead or wounded, unable to stay on their mounts.
The horses of the men in the middle still stood their ground, rump to rump in pinwheel fashion. The man on Gavin’s left had a deep slash across the top of his arm. Gavin, heaving with exertion, was covered with blood, but very little of it was his own.
The remaining of Demari’s men looked on in silent tribute to the unarmored fighters.
“Take them!” said the man who seemed to be the leader of the attackers. “But see that Montgomery comes to no harm. He is needed alive.”
Gavin lifted his sword again but suddenly there was a sharp sting and his hands were immobilized. A thin whip had been thrown, and his arms were pinned to his sides.
“Tie him.”
Even as Gavin was dragged from his horse, his foot caught one man in the throat.
“Are you afraid of him?” the leader demanded. “You’ll die anyway if you don’t obey me. Tie him to that tree. I’d like him to watch how we treat captives.”
Chapter Fifteen
JUDITH WAS KNEELING IN THE ROSE GARDEN, HER LAP full of blossoms. Gavin had been gone a month now, with no word for the last ten days. There wasn’t a moment that she didn’t glance out a window or through a doorway to see if a messenger had arrived. She swayed between wanting to see him and dreading his return. He had too much hold over her, as he’d proven when she’d gone to his room the night before he left to fight for her lands. Yet she knew well enough that he had no such ambiguous feelings toward her. For him only the-blonde Alice existed; his wife was only a toy to be used when he needed amusement.
She heard the clatter of arms as the men rode through the double gate that separated the inner bailey from the outer. She stood quickly, the roses falling to her feet as she picked up her skirts and began to run. None of them was Gavin. Judith released her pent-up breath, lowered her skirts and walked more sedately.
John Bassett sat atop his war-horse looking many years older than he had when he left some weeks before. His hair, graying at the temples, was even whiter now. His eyes were sunken, dark circles under them. The side of his chain mail had been torn and the edges of the cut were rusted from blood. The other men were no better; their faces haggard, their clothes torn and filthy.
Judith stood silently while John dismounted. “Take the horses,” she said to a stableboy. “See that they are cared for.”
John looked down at her a moment; then, with resignation, started to kneel to kiss her hand.
“No!” Judith said quickly. She was too practical to allow him to waste more energy in what, to her, was a useless gesture. She put her arm about his waist, guided his arm about her shoulders.
John stiffened, taken aback by the familiarity of his little mistress. Then he smiled fondly at the top of her head.
“Come and sit by the fountain,” she said as she led him to the tiled pool just inside the garden wall. “Joan!” she commanded, “bring some of the other maids and send someone from the kitchen with food and wine.”
“Yes, my lady.”
She turned back to John. “I’ll help you remove your armor,” she said before he could protest.