Page 22 of The Sword and the Damsel (The De Veres #2)
M orning came, but the fog remained, leaving the forest an impenetrable morass. Victor was unable to find anything useful in the gray morning light, and on foot leading his lame horse, his range and speed were limited. He decided he would have to enlist the aid of others to succeed in his quest.
He’d had dealings with the Templars of Westfield in the past on behalf of his aunt. In fact, more than once, the Templars had tried to recruit him. They’d almost succeeded before he went to Winchelsea. While he had no appetite for becoming a holy warrior, before Alais, he didn’t know what else to do after his miserable year attempting to return to normal life in Hastings. He’d seen enough slaughter in the Lord’s name with Lord Amalric to want no part of it ever again, but there was an undeniable appeal in walking away from all earthly possessions and earthly ties when no one wanted you around anyway.
He walked up to the castle, leading Socorro, and gave his name to the guard at the gate. Shortly thereafter, he was ushered inside. A groom took Socorro to the stable, offering assurances his injuries would be seen to.
“Sir Victor, we are honored by your visit. To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?” The man who was speaking wore a rough white monk’s robes with the red Templar cross on the front.
“Brother Stephen, thank you for receiving me. I would have let you know I was coming if I had known myself.”
“Dare I hope that you’ve finally decided to join us?”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m here on a personal matter. Is there somewhere we can sit and speak?”
Brother Stephen led him to a small room with bare walls, a square wooden table, and rough wooden benches. A particularly gruesome crucifix was the room’s only decoration. “Have you eaten, my lord?” he asked, offering Victor a seat.
“I haven’t, and I don’t have time to. My mission is urgent.”
Brother Stephen seated himself and folded his hands in front of him. “Of course. Then tell me what brings you here at the break of dawn.”
“I was married two days ago to Alais de Vere of Winchelsea.”
“Congratulations, my lord. Though I must say that makes your presence here even more of a mystery.”
“My cousin, Robert, was jealous of our marriage and kidnapped her yesterday evening from Guestling. I tracked him through the night and lost him in woods just south of here several hours ago. She wasn’t with him last night, but I think I know where she is. I’m hoping you’ll be willing to lend me aid in finding her. You know the people and the territory for miles around.”
Brother Stephen gave him a look of mixed sympathy and calculation. “I’m sorry to hear about this terrible family tragedy.” He emphasized the word “family.”
“My family,” Victor continued, echoing Brother Stephen’s emphasis, “would be very grateful for any assistance you provide locating my cousin. The Earl of Winchelsea and Lord de Vere will undoubtedly also be…grateful.” He was mentally calculating how grateful he could afford to be. While the Templars individually pledged to live a life of poverty, collectively they never missed an opportunity to enrich the order. The castle where they sat, and the labor of the tenants that farmed the land, were a gift from a grateful noblewoman some thirty years before.
“I see,” Brother Stephen answered, not quite hiding the mercenary gleam in his eye. “Of course, we’ll help you. I’ll send someone at once to notify the tenants to be on the lookout, and I can help you organize a search party to look for her. Take your ease. I’ll be back shortly.”
As Victor sat, the full weight of his exhaustion began to press down on him. He’d barely slept on his wedding night and hadn’t slept during the night while hunting for Robert. But he couldn’t afford to rest yet. Alais needed him.
Victor closed his eyes and imagined holding her in his arms, her shape, her scent, her warmth. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes, full of renewed determination to find her, no matter the cost. If he had to promise the Templars Guestling to get her back, he would do it, though he didn’t think it would come to that.
Whatever happened, though, he needed money. When he’d left home, it didn’t occur to him to bring any. He wasn’t expecting this chase to extend into the next day. Now the Templars would want a guarantee of his gratitude payment. He would have to write his father. Daniel and his father-in-law should also be informed of what had happened, and, depending on how much gratitude he was expected to show, he might need to ask them for contributions as well. Perhaps Brother Stephen might be willing to lend him some coin to continue his pursuit, if needed, with a promise of repayment from the sum his father would send.
Brother Stephen returned and sat beside him. “I’ve sent out word to be on watch for your cousin. I have six knights ready to join you in your search for your wife this morning.”
“Thank you, Brother Stephen.”
“I imagine you must have received a handsome dowry for such a marriage. Certainly, one-tenth of the dowry would not be too much to part with, in gratitude for aid in finding her.”
Victor offered a wry smile. It was a hefty sum but far less than he was willing to sacrifice if needed. “Thank you for your help. You will have my gratitude within the week if you will lend me parchment and a quill to send a note to Guestling.”
“Of course, my lord.”
“I would also like to send a message to the Earl of Winchelsea. I’m sure he will also be grateful once he hears.”
“No trouble at all, my lord.” Brother Stephen came back swiftly with parchment, a quill, ink, and a blotter.
“One more thing. I left home without any coin. Would it be possible to borrow 20 silver pieces and add them to the amount my father is sending from Guestling?”
Brother Stephen narrowed his eyes. “We don’t lend coin. But we know and trust you, and we know that your father or the earl will make good on your debt in the end, if you are unable for some reason. And your aunt has long been a generous donor. Given your extreme need for haste, I will agree to it this once.”
“Thank you,” Victor said, clapping Brother Stephen on the shoulder. Then he turned to writing his letters.
Father,
I chased Robert to the woods just south of Westfield last night. He doesn’t have Alais with him, but I’m certain he knows where she is. The good knights at Westfield are helping me in my search. I wish to donate 100 gold and 20 silver pieces to their cause in gratitude for their assistance. Please send as soon as you are able. I suspect Robert left Alais in Hastings. If you find him before I do, send word to Westfield.
He paused, his quill hovering above the parchment. A drop of ink dripped from the nib, leaving a mark beside his writing. He dabbed at it with a blotter to keep it from smearing before adding to his final sentence.
…and give her my love. My heart is hers no matter what Robert may have done.
Your loving son,
Victor
Next, he had to pen his letter to Winchelsea. He took a deep breath. If he was a praying man, he would pray for inspiration. Was there a graceful way to tell your wife’s family that she’d been abducted?
To the Earl of Winchelsea and Lord Martin de Vere,
It is with deep sadness and anger that I must share the news that my cousin, Robert, abducted Alais while we were visiting my father at Guestling, paying our respects the day after our wedding. I pursued Robert to woods just south of Westfield where I lost him. She was not with him, and I am certain he stowed her elsewhere before heading out to meet me on the road. My father is searching for her near Guestling. If you can send anyone to aid him, I would be most grateful. I have enlisted the help of the good knights at Westfield to search for her in Hastings. I’m trying to keep my aunt out of this, if at all possible, given the strained relations between your families. My deepest apologies for failing in my sacred duty to keep Alais safe. I will find her, and I will bring Robert to justice.
Your humble servant,
Victor
When both letters were sealed with wax and stamped with his signet ring, he handed them both to Brother Stephen to convey to messengers. “I would like to move out as quickly as possible. Can you show me to the men that are going to help me?”
Brother Stephen nodded and led him out to the stables where six knights were saddling their horses, their breath fogging the air in the morning chill. While the men varied greatly in age and appearance, something about the economy and precision of their movements along with a certain look in their eyes told Victor at a glance that they were all veterans. They were all in fighting form, lean and strong, and they moved in concert as if long accustomed to each other from training and campaigning together. He paid dearly for their assistance, but he could not imagine a group of men better suited to aid him in his task.
“Brothers, this is Sir Victor of Guestling. He’ll be leading today’s search. I’ll let him share the details. I have urgent messages to send out.” With that, Brother Stephen bowed his head and took his leave.
Victor asked a groom to saddle a horse for him, since Socorro was injured, then addressed the men. “Thank you for your assistance today. I am honored by your company. I can see that you are experienced campaigners. That will be useful as we attempt to rescue my wife from my cousin, who kidnapped her. He and I both fought together overseas on behalf of Lord Amalric of Wessex. Robert is a capable fighter and a clever foe. Wherever my wife is, I am certain she is well-defended. We’re going to start our search at Robert’s house in Hastings. Questions?”
A middle-aged man with a salt-and-pepper beard and receding hairline raised a hand.
“Yes, sir,” Victor said, nodding at him. “Tell me your name and your question.”
“Brother Eustace, sir. Can you tell us what your wife looks like?
We want to make sure we’ve got the right woman if we come across her.”
Victor took a deep breath and pushed away the heated memories of the last time he saw her. “She’s this tall,” he said, raising his hand to the level of his chin, “with thick, lustrous chestnut hair, sparkling brown eyes flecked with gold, long lashes, and an impish face.” He stopped himself before rhapsodizing about her luscious lips, her full breasts, or her round, delicious bottom. From the amused looks on some of the men’s faces, he could see he’d already gotten somewhat carried away. “She’s beautiful and spirited, and we have to rescue her before my cousin harms her any further. Any other questions?”
A man with flaming red hair and a nose the shape of a potato spoke up. “My name’s Hugh, my lord. Can you tell us what your cousin looks like and what you would like us to do if we find him?”
Victor clenched his hands as he said, “If you see him, kill him. I can assure you he will not hesitate to kill you. As for what he looks like, picture me but with a pretty face and curly hair. Before I got this,” he said, gesturing to his face, “people used to think we were brothers.” Before he gave me this, he thought with renewed fury. “I injured his left arm in a sword fight last night, but that is unlikely to slow him down. If you find yourself fighting him, I recommend you call for help. He is deadly one on one. Any further questions?” He looked around. “No? Let’s go.”
They mounted and set out for Hastings. A brief exploration of the place where Robert left the road yielded nothing. Rain had obliterated his tracks. No matter. Robert could slink off to nurse his wounds for the moment. Victor would have his revenge before this was over. All that mattered now was Alais.
The group made good time in spite of the morning drizzle. By late morning, they were at the gates of Hastings. A guard stopped them as they made to enter.
“Halt! Explain your business in Hastings,” the man said, eyeing the armed contingent warily.
Dismounting, Victor got a good look at the guard and smiled. “Philip, my good man, how are the wife and children?”
A grin spread across the guard’s face. “Victor, it’s good to see you! I thought we’d seen the last of you. It’s been months.”
They clasped hands and thumped each other on the back. “I can’t seem to stay away.”
“How are they treating you in Winchelsea?”
“Quite well, thank you. Listen, Philip, I am on a mission of some urgency with the Templars. It has to do with my cousin. You have my word no harm will come to the good citizens of Hastings. This is strictly a family matter. Can you let us pass?”
“For you, anything,” Philip said, waiving the Templars through.
“Thank you, my friend. Give my best to Mathilda and the boys.”
Philip was a good man. Once Victor had Alais back and had dispensed with Robert, Victor resolved to come back for a proper visit.
Mounting again, he led the Templars through the winding streets until he stopped in front of the stone edifice that belonged to his cousin.
Nodding to the men following him, he watched as they drew their swords and arrayed themselves behind him. He banged on the door.
Moments later, a man as hefty and oily as a ham hock opened the door, blinking. Victor couldn’t help but notice the goose egg bruise on the right side of his head. The man made a motion to draw his sword, but Victor was too quick. His blade was at the man’s throat. “Bring me my wife, and I’ll let you live.”
The man laughed. “Sir Robert knew you’d come.”
Only the slightest noise alerted him to danger from above as boiling oil came pouring down, inches from where he stood. Slicing as he stepped forward, into the protection of the doorway, he ended the man in front of him.
The Templars stepped back as yet another cauldron of boiling oil rained down from above. So it was him alone against Robert’s thugs, at least until he put a stop to those cauldrons of boiling oil. That was fine. He almost preferred it that way.
Three swordsmen came running toward him. Bloodlust roared through him as he blocked two and kicked the third one in the chest hard enough to throw him against the wall. Only three? Victor expected more. He stepped around his attackers so that he was behind them, hamstringing the first and piercing the second in the sword arm, making him drop his sword, which Victor kicked to the far corner of the room.
The man he’d kicked came lunging back, and Victor parried, then returned the attack with such a vengeance that the man lost his nerve and started flailing wildly. Victor drove him back into the arms of a suit of armor displayed in the vaulted entry hall. The idiot lost his balance and fell on the floor, with the suit of armor on top of him. Victor would have laughed if he wasn’t so furious.
With all three attackers disabled for the moment, Victor ran for the stairs. Time to take out the person with the boiling oil so that the Templars could come in and finish things off.
Taking the stairs two at a time, he raced up to the third story and quickly found the room he sought. A stout serving woman stood at the window, poised to dump another cauldron. Christ on the cross. He couldn’t stab a woman in the back.
Hearing him, she turned around and hurled the cauldron at him. He dodged and turned just in time to see her draw a throwing knife from a sheath on her calf. Before he had time to react, she threw, and the blade bit into his left shoulder. She tried to make a run for the door, but he caught her. Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, he wrapped his good arm around her throat and squeezed. She wriggled and writhed trying to escape, but Victor was far stronger. He held her firmly until she passed out, and he let her drop to the floor. He could hear the Templars downstairs and knew he had won.
Footsteps sounded on the staircase, and Victor stiffened, blade in hand. Brother Hugh’s flaming red hair appeared, and Victor relaxed his stance.
“We’ve tied up the ones we found downstairs,” said Hugh. “Is she…?” Victor could see Brother Hugh’s disapproval written all over his face.
Victor shook his head. “Only passed out. I want her alive for questioning.”
The clouds cleared from Brother Hugh’s face. “I see you’re injured. Would you like me to remove the knife?”
“Please.” Victor was going to do it himself, but it would be cleaner if someone whose shoulder wasn’t screaming in pain did the honors.
“Ready?”
“Ready.”
With a quick pull, Brother Hugh removed the blade. Blood poured down Victor’s arm. “Tear off the arm of my shirt,” Victor suggested, as Brother Hugh looked around for something to use as a bandage. “But before you do, tie her up. We don’t want her waking and causing trouble.”
Brother Hugh tore off a piece of fabric from the hem of her dress and used it to bind her wrists and ankles. Then he used the throwing knife to cut off Victor’s sleeve and bind the wound. He must look a horror, Victor thought with a wry smile. But then, what was one more scar when he already had so many?
The woman began to stir. Victor brought his blade to her neck. He had no intention of killing her, but she didn’t need to know that.
“Where is my wife?” he demanded as she opened her eyes.
“You must be Sir Victor. Sir Robert said you would come.”
She looked defiant despite the sword at her throat. He pressed the blade, and she hissed. “We would have had you if not for that little bitch you married. She escaped last night. Most of the household is out looking for her.”
That explained the curious lack of resistance. Victor had expected much more of a fight.
“Where is Sir Robert?”
“Ain’t seen him since he left to kidnap the lady. He’s probably headed up to Canterbury. Spends a lot of time there at an inn called the Black Rooster.”
Victor lowered his sword.
“Brother Hugh, we need to search the house to make sure my wife isn’t tucked away in some corner. Given how few are defending the house, I’m inclined to believe this woman, but we need to be certain.”
If Alais was out on the streets of Hastings with most of Robert’s household after her, she was in grave danger. He needed to find her as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, that likely meant enlisting his aunt’s help. Alais wouldn’t like that one bit.
He and Brother Hugh searched the third floor, then the second floor. On the ground floor, they found the rest of the Templars with Robert’s men tied up. “Have you searched this floor?” he asked them.
“We have. And we’ve searched the cellars. Nothing,” said Brother Eustace. “I’m inclined to believe their story that she escaped.”
Fear gripped his heart as he thought of Alais alone and unarmed in the city, pursued by armed bandits. Victor nodded, his course decided. “All of you, fan out and search the surrounding area. I must pay a visit to my aunt and enlist her aid.”