When he spoke, she could hear the smile in his voice.
“Your husband should turn you over his bloody knee and whip you for the stramash you have caused.”
“Then it’s a good thing he’s English, not a bloody Scot like you,” she retorted.
The moon hunglow in the ink-black sky, casting eerie shadows through the dense forest. William and his men pushed the horses onward, guided only by the light filtering through the dense canopy above.
“Wymund. We shall make camp here for the night.”
His captain nodded. “It will be good to be home soon. I find I miss the cookies our lady makes.”
Dressed in a dark green tunic and hose, William dismounted, eager to stretch his legs.
“She said she has a new dessert in honor of Samhain.”
Before he could ask, William held up a hand. “Nay, I do not know what. She says it is a surprise.”
As the men made camp, starting a fire, and setting the guard, William thought about Lucy, wondering what she was doing, how excited she would be when he gave her the ring he’d had a goldsmith make in London. ’Twas fashioned with a heavy gold band like the ring he gave her when they wed, but instead of anemerald, this one had a sapphire and a diamond in honor of the two sons she had given him.
Two of the men brought back rabbits for dinner, and as they were eating, one of the guards called out, “Riders approach.”
The sound of steel being drawn sliced through the sounds of the forest as his men formed a circle, waiting.
“My lord, Lord Blackford.” The rider cried out, the familiar voice ringing across the field. As he came into view, he and the horse worn out from the journey, William frowned.
“Timothy. Whatever are you doing here?” Anxiety crept up his back. “Is aught amiss?”
The man was part of Lucy’s guard. As he dismounted, he reached in his tunic and came out with a green ribbon, fluttering in the wind.
As William took the ribbon, he watched his hand reach out, touch the silk, but he had no recollection of doing so.
’Twas Lucy’s. He’d recognize her clumsy stitching, the L+W she put on her ribbons as a jest. Then she’d sing a ridiculous song about kissing in trees, making him laugh.
The ribbon was stained, the ends frayed. He crushed it in his hand, heart beating so fast William thought he might embarrass himself and swoon.
“Tell me,” he bellowed. “Where is my wife?”
Timothy, a pained expression etched upon his face, handed the reins of his horse to Rhys.
“Our lady said she needed to make a pilgrimage to St. John’s Well, to take the healing waters for her eyesight.” The man swallowed as William scowled.
“Her eyesight?” He thundered. “She has the sight of a hawk or that damnable raven she talks to.”
The young knight took a step back. “She told us that her eyesight was not what it once was and she must go to the well.Myself, Thomas, and four guards, along with her lady’s maid, traveled with her to Beverley Priory. She said not to worry, we would return to Blackford and be home before you.”
The man gulped. “But after she visited the well, they took her from the church.”
A calm settled over him, much like in battle as William listened to Timothy tell the tale of what had transpired, how they had been searching for her for a fortnight and during the search, found her ribbon, left on a tree limb for them to find.
All this time, William had been enjoying himself, traveling with his men, going to court, inspecting the fine horses at Silverwood.
His Lucy had gone to the well, for what he did not know, but ’twas not for her eyesight. Then she’d been kidnapped, but for what reason? No ransom note had reached him, all whilst he was blissfully unaware.
The sound of hooves thundering into the forest had his men on guard again when William held up a hand.
“’Tis Thomas and the rest of Lucy’s guard.”
William’s heart constricted as the men, along with his wife’s lady’s maid, rode into the camp, faces grim.
