The Rose and the Shield (Medieval 2)

Gunnar reached out and grasped his arm. “’Tis what Arno is expecting. I know you want to fight, Ivo. I know how you feel, for I feel it too, but remember there are more lives at risk here than yours and mine. If there is no fighting then no one will be hurt. These are innocents, Ivo, just as was your sister.”

Ivo nodded brusquely, but Rose could almost hear him grinding his teeth. “And you?” he asked Gunnar.

“I will take the lady.”

“They will want to see her—Miles is probably already dreaming about what he will do to her.”

Rose tried not to move, but the pictures they were conjuring were making her legs tremble. She grasped the curtained pole at the base of the bed.

“Find Constance, the old woman, and tell her to hold them off. Her lady is too frightened to speak or some such nonsense. And if they ask for me, then I am abed with some wench and you’re not brave enough to disturb me until I’m done.”

Ivo snorted a laugh. “It will be as you say, Gunnar.”

And he was gone.

Reynard handed something to Gunnar—a piece of clothing?—before he too turned and vanished into the darkness, leaving Gunnar and Rose alone. He was watching her, silhouetted against the faint light from the window. Rose had heard what they said, but she did not understand it.

I will take the lady.

Take her where? And why? Miles was coming—that was why Arno was waiting down there—and when he arrived all would be at an end. They would no longer pretend he was coming to oversee Norman justice. Fitzmorton wanted Somerford and Miles would take it for him.

The time for pretending was over.

“Do you think to gain ransom from my family for me?” she asked, and was pleased with the firmness of her voice. “There is only my father, and I fear he will think it a waste of good money. He was relieved to be rid of me to Edric, he will not want me back again, especially if he must pay for the privilege.”

He was silent. Rose did not like the silence, and she filled it, her voice not quite so steady this time.

“Do you mean to sell me to Lord Fitzmorton? What use will he have for me, when he has stolen my manor? Unless he wants to marry me to one of his men, so that he can tell the king the manor came into his hands justly. Is that it, Captain, is that what you mean to do?”

There were tears in her eyes but she would not let them fall. Her breathing sounded harsh in the darkness.

“Lady, we must go.”

Rose clenched

her fists and only just prevented herself from stamping her bare feet. “Answer me!”

“There is no time for answers. Your keep is about to be overrun by Fitzmorton’s men. You are not safe here. We must escape.”

Escape? Rose felt even more confused, but she put that aside and fastened onto another, more important matter. “I will not leave my people.”

“Your people will be safe enough if there is no fighting, and I have given those orders. It is you who are in danger, not your people. Get dressed now, lady. We have no time—”

“I will face them, not run,” she declared.

But he caught her arm and swung her around against him, her bare skin, only just covered by her thin robe, abraded by the coarse stuff of his breeches and tunic. His sword belt dug into her—she could feel every metal stud that decorated the leather.

“Miles de Vessey wants you,” Gunnar said with soft menace. “He will not wed you first, lady. And he is not like me—he will hurt you. And if you do not leave now, if you stay to face him, he will consider it an invitation to do as he likes with you. Ask Ivo. Ask him what Miles is capable of!”

He was angry. It took her by surprise. She wondered for the briefest of moments what it was Miles had done that was so shocking. And then the voice in her head was shrieking, drowning out all other thoughts.

Don’t believe what he says! Don’t trust him!

The truth was, she had no choice.

If she stayed she would surely die—or wish she had. If she left now with Gunnar Olafson she had a chance of escaping, even mayhap of finding her way to Lord Radulf. Saving Somerford and her people. Whatever the mercenary’s true plans for her, she might be able to outwit him, elude him, or, if worse came to worst, lull him with her body into believing she was no threat.

It came down to a simple choice. Leave now and take a chance. Stay and surely die.