“Nay, lad,” Gaston said. “I need you here, at the fortress.”
Gaston had put his words nicely and Charles was not disheartened. The fact that he had the Dark Knight’s trust actually made him feel quite important. Taking Dane’s hand, he led the boy and Rory away.
Gaston was on the move, a man with a mission. Knaresborough was not far and he wanted to intercept the party before they made it to the fortress. His two squires followed him, latching on pieces of armor and strapping on his sword. Gaston paused a moment, still coordinating orders and troops, lifting his arms as the boys locked on the rest of his plate armor. When one squire secured the last latch on his grieve and positioned the plate over his boot, Gaston was completely protected and therefore, impatient to get going.
He put Patrick in charge of the fortress with explicit instructions regarding Mari-Elle and Remington’s family. He did not want any unexpected confrontations while he was away, especially not between Rory and Mari-Elle. With the temper of the two women, they would most likely kill each other and he did not want any surprises upon his return.
A groom brought Taran forward, still fumbling with his tack. Gaston mounted the animal as the groom secured the last strap and adjusted his reins as Arik moved the last mounted soldier into formation.
This was a light company, well-seasoned warriors that were worth their weight in a fight. They were mayhap the most elite of the men-at-arms, a step above, yet not on par with the knights. They were tough and Gaston roved an approving eye over them as they settled in and waited for his final command.
He would catch the fools before they had a chance to make it to Knaresborough, and he would take great pleasure in guttingevery one of them personally. If Remington were unharmed, he would be merciful. If they had been unfortunate to touch her, then he would make sure they were so miserable that they would beg for death. Every time he thought of her in the clutches of her kidnappers, his heart beat so fast that his palms sweated and the tightening of his chest was unbearable.
He set out with unmovable determination, the likes of which he had never known. No battle ever held as high a stake, including Bosworth. He would retrieve what was his and he would make those responsible pay in the worst way.
“What is our elapsed time?” he asked Arik as they went charging under the portcullis.
“Since Rory and Charles informed us? Around ten minutes,” Arik replied over the thunder of the hooves.
“And we assume that the abductors have at least a ten minute start on us,” Gaston thought aloud and he tightened his grip on the reins. “We have got twenty damn minutes to make up for.”
The army rumbled into the lake clearing and Gaston’s eyes fell on Roald. He drew Taran close to the knight and dismounted, kneeling beside the body. He was sickened by the senseless loss of a long-devoted knight.
But Roald wasn’t dead. Yet. He gave a little twitch and tried to move somehow, but Gaston and Arik held him still.
“Roald,” Gaston said urgently. “Did you see which way they went?”
Roald opened one eye, seeing Gaston and knowing if the arrow did not end his life, his liege would. He had failed miserably in the fulfillment of his duties.
“I…I do not know, my lord,” he rasped. “I remember being struck and then nothing more. They were taken and not killed outright?”
“It would seem so,” Gaston said.
Roald felt a bit of relief, but he knew he would still answer for allowing such a thing to happen. “I apologize for failing you, my lord. ’Tis inexcusable and I ask that you be merciful with my punishment.”
Gaston waved a couple of soldiers over. “I believe the arrow in your chest is punishment enough, Roald,” he turned to the soldiers behind him. “Return him to the fortress and then comb the woods for the bodies of the other two knights. I want them found.”
He was met with a sharp response and he rose, his eyes gazing over the landscape.
“They went south,” Arik said. “The quickest way would be to avoid the towns and cross the river where it is least used.”
Gaston nodded faintly. “Send the scouts to pick up the trail. We ride.”
Arik let out a piercing whistle and two soldiers broke off from the troops, racing in the direction Arik indicated on Saracen stallions. They were the fastest beasts Gaston had ever seen and an invaluable intelligence asset.
He and Arik were mounted and waited when one of the soldiers came racing back.
“We have found obvious evidence, my lord,” the man said, pointing. “Almost due south.”
Gaston nodded sharply. “Ride ahead, then, and mark my trail. Waste no time.”
The soldier was gone and the army followed close behind, trampling over the soft green grass and tearing up the growth with their mighty warhorses.
*
Jasmine, through agood deal of expert acting, managed to delay their departure for nearly an hour. Every time someone wouldraise their voice or move in to pick her up, she would scream and grab her gut as if she were going to explode. Intimidated, the knights and soldiers accompanying them were reluctant to force her.
Every man, whether he would admit it or not, is intimidated by a female simply for virtue of her mysterious sex. Women breed and have strange, private afflictions that serve to scare the hell out of any man. They were positive Jasmine was suffering from a strange, female affliction and none wanted to be cursed by touching her.
