She rose and set off again, filled with determination once more. As she walked, she felt sure that she could sense something. It could have been a horse, but when she looked about her, there was none to be seen. The hedge on her left was thick and stock-proof, so there might have been cattle or a horse in there, she thought, but it was impossible to see. No matter, she thought, and carried on.
But now she grew aware of something else. A steady, rhythmical drumming on the ground. Not too fast, and not too slow, and then, even as she listened to it, it changed, and became a ragged, discordant percussion, and she knew it was cantering horses. There was a shout, a gleeful shriek, and the noise grew quickly louder.
She was aware of her heart thundering in her breast as though it was beating in time to the hoofbeats. Panic was rising as she thought that these might well be the very same men who had brought her here today. If they were, she would not be able to escape them. There was no escape from a band such as this. There was no running away from men on horseback, and no hope that standing still and looking chaste would save her.
There was a small tree that was not cut down, though. She might be able to clamber up it and into the field beyond.
It was better than staying here to be caught or raped and killed. She darted to it, and began to scramble up the sapling, but it was too weak to support her. Instead she flung her hands into the hedge itself, hoping to haul herself up, away from the approaching menace, but her hand caught a blackthorn bush, and the long spikes stabbed her fingers, making her sob with the pain.
There was no hope, she thought, and she was about to let go and fall back into the road when a face appeared above her.
‘In God’s name, woman, take my hand!’ Roger hissed urgently.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Nymet Traci
‘What about the maid, Father?’
‘Oh, the wandering son returns, eh?’ Sir Robert said. He was standing with Osbert near the stables.
Basil was clad in parti-coloured tunic and hose, the tunic tight over a linen chemise. He swaggered to the horses and patted a neck. ‘You’ve been riding them hard, Father.’
‘We were in a hurry. You know I like a good gallop of a morning.’
‘Oh, aye. This wench, anyway?’
Sir Robert clapped his son on the back. ‘You were gone a long time, boy.’
‘I was busy.’
‘Where, my son?’
Osbert watched impassively as Sir Robert took hold of his son’s neck.
‘Father, that is painful.’
‘I am glad. I meant it to be.’
‘I want you to let me go, Father.’
‘Where were you?’
‘With a maid in Bow.’
‘The whore in the tavern?’
‘No, a maid from a farm. She pleases me.’
‘She doesn’t please me,’ Sir Robert said.
‘What of that? I do not offer her to share with you.’
‘I would have you leave her alone. I expected you to be here last evening with Osbert.’
‘He is boring company, Father. Whereas my friend is more amusing.’
‘You will return when I order in future, son,’ Sir Robert said.
‘That hurts!’
‘It is meant to.’
‘Let go, Father!’
‘This is my castle, boy, and I give the orders here.’
‘Very well!’
‘One of my men said that you’d gone to our guest and offered to sheath yourself in her. Is that right?’
‘She’s only a little slut …’
‘You cretin!’
Osbert saw the dagger suddenly drawn, and as soon as it was clear of the sheath, his hand snapped out sharply and grabbed Basil’s wrist. He twisted and pressed with his thumb into the hollow of Basil’s wrist, and the dagger fell to the floor. Osbert placed his foot on top to keep it safe.
‘So you were plaguing the girl?’ Sir Robert asked.
‘I went to see that she was well, that’s all.’
‘I do not want you there, boy.’
‘Yes. And I want to see her.’
‘I wasn’t clear enough, obviously. When I said I didn’t want you annoying her, what I meant was, I want you to leave her alone. And I still want you to leave her alone. Yes?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh, and one other thing, boy. If I ever see you draw a knife on me again, I will personally break your arm. Don’t try it again. Is that all right?’
Basil said nothing, but watched with a baleful eye as his father walked away.
Osbert said nothing, but remained with his foot on Basil’s knife.
‘Get your foot off it. It’s mine.’
‘Of course. Your father won’t want it to remain in the dirt, will he?’ Osbert said, stepping away as he released it. He eyed Basil as the boy bent and took it up, and the two men stood for a few moments, Basil with the dagger in his hand, balanced, while Osbert remained seemingly relaxed. But neither was. Both knew that at any moment there could be a sudden flare of death.
It was Basil who broke the spell of the moment. He gave a short laugh, tossed the knife up and caught it, then thrust it into its sheath again. ‘It’d be unkind to kill someone as old as you. Where’s the honour in slaying an old man?’
Osbert smiled at the thought. ‘I feel honoured you can think in such terms. You are too kind to me.’
Basil saw his grin, and his own smile faded in an instant. He slapped the hilt of his sword, spun on his heel and marched away.
Road near Copplestone
They had passed through Crediton and were approaching Copplestone when Edgar cleared his throat.
‘Sir Baldwin, I am concerned as to why that man would take Mistress Edith.’
‘A young woman like her? There is likely only the one reason, Edgar. You appreciate that well enough.’
Edgar ignored the reminder of his womanising past. ‘But we are both aware of this man Wattere. We know what sort of person he is. He is Despenser’s man in Devon, is he not? The sheriff himself told us that he arrested Peter because the king and Despenser were seeking traitors in the realm. But surely he has some ulterior motive for capturing the boy.’
‘I do not follow your thinking,’ Baldwin said.
‘We know that Edith’s husband has been captured. The charges against him are such that he will not easily be released. He has nothing of value, but his father has lands. That seems to mean that there could be pressure being brought to bear. But I do not understand why someone would also capture Edith, unless they are seeking to influence Simon directly.’
‘Perhaps her capture was a random matter? Nothing to do with her husband’s arrest?’
‘Sir, do you believe that?’ Edgar said with a pitying smile. ‘The man Wattere happened to be riding past and found her on her own. He the most committed enemy of her father in the land since their fight. Simon scarred him, do not forget.’
‘So? What do you mean by this?’
‘Sir Baldwin, the son and the father both told you that the sheriff is close to Despenser and the king’s court. Wattere is Despenser’s man. Surely this is all a scheme by Despenser? He has his own men in Devon. That is no surprise, for he and the king will have their men placed in all positions of authority now because their authority is itself being undermined. However, it seems like a great scheme to deprive Simon of his daughter.’
Baldwin winced at the thought. ‘Despenser has already deprived Simon of his home. Why would he want to do this too?’
‘Because he is thoroughly foul,’ Edgar said. ‘He seeks power over others, and when he is thwarted he seeks to destroy them.’
Baldwin need say nothing to that. It was the simple truth. ‘So what will he do now?’
‘I think we have to hope and pray that it is him,’ Edgar said. ‘Because if it were Wattere who took her, and Wattere was not under Despenser’s control, it is likely she could have been taken just for her looks. A man who seeks to rape her and discard her later would be more dangerous. He may already have achieved his aim. And that could mean she has already been killed.’