“I would welcome your assistance.”
The smith took Basilisk’s reins. “It will not take long to tend them, sir, for I imagine you intend to give chase.”
“I must find my squire,” Ramsay said, hoping Hugues was there and with Anna. “They were to wait beyond the next village.”
“I will send a groom to tell him what has happened and that you are delayed,” the smith said, leading the black destrier back toward the village gates. “Come sir, my wife has some skill with healing and will examine your injury, undoubtedly granting you a bowl of soup while I tend the steeds. Your pursuit will proceed better once you have all been tended and have eaten.”
Ramsay reached for his purse but the smith lifted a hand.
“You have paid me well already, sir. I offer this of my own choice.” The man’s lips thinned. “Let Rufus Percival demand a toll of me if he so desires, but I have not forgotten my Christian duty.”
Aye, Rufus had sacrificed all in the smith’s estimation when he had willfully injured the steeds.
“I thank you,” Ramsay said, bowing low again as he filled with gratitude.
“You, fine creature, have suffered an indignity beyond all expectation.” The smith spoke to Basilisk softly as he led the apparently docile stallion back toward the village. “I knew your lineage as soon as I looked upon you. Your forebears were bred at Ravensmuir, a holding I have never been so fortunate as to see myself. No man of merit could choose to injure a stallion such as yourself…”
Ramsay shook his head that Basilisk nickered softly, as if in agreement with the smith. Ramsay led Foudre back to the village gates, surrounded by chattering villagers and considered his course. ’Twas his impulse to race after Rufus, but the other knight would anticipate as much—and truly, Ramsay could not expect to defeat Rufus alone. He might not even be granted admission to Dunhaven, if he arrived there on his own, but might be cast into that keep’s dungeon. This time, he knew Evangeline would be unable to aid him—Rufus would ensure as much.
Would Rufus kill her outright? If he desired both Evangeline’s silence and her dowry, Ramsay had to believe that Rufus would wed Evangeline first, then ensure her demise after the wedding guests were gone. ’Twas risky to leave her alone at Dunhaven, but Ramsay had need of allies to succeed in this quest.
He glanced over his shoulder to the north, knowing that the closest source of anyone who would aid Evangeline was Kinfairlie. Ramsay recalled her conviction that to be family meant to be loved despite one’s shortcomings and previous failings.
Would her family give him an audience for Evangeline’s sake?
Once, Ramsay would have chosen to ride to Dunhaven, to seek a way to enter its walls unobserved and thus contrive Evangeline’s escape. Now, he considered the merit of strength in numbers, recognizing that a solitary man might readily be overwhelmed and silenced.
Nay, he had to believe in Evangeline’s conviction of family bonds. He would ride toward Kinfairlie with the plan of seeking their aid. If naught else, he would meet Talbot and Otto there and would not have to ride to Dunhaven alone.
But Ramsay dared to hope that Evangeline’s kin, even the Hawk of Inverfyre, might be persuaded to support his quest, for the benefit of Evangeline herself.
* * *
The return journeyto Dunhaven was destined to be slower than Evangeline’s departure had been, but in many ways less comfortable. She did not like riding with Rufus, for he kept one arm locked around her waist so tightly that she could feel the rings of his chain mail hauberk digging into her back. Worse, his breath was on her neck, as if she were a hare snared by a predator.
She could not imagine when they would reach Dunhaven, for their party halted so frequently that they made slow progress in her view. It was dark when they halted for the night, and truly the pace left Evangeline more tired than when she had raced north with Ramsay.
She wondered at Rufus’ choice in this matter. Did he hope for Ramsay to overcome them on the road south? Perhaps so, for Ramsay even with his companions would be outnumbered and matters between them could be resolved in the open countryside where there were few witnesses, and none outside the service of Rufus Percival. She also came to the conclusion, though, that Rufus was a man disinclined to endure any discomfort. That he had so stirred himself to pursue her could only hint at the risk he perceived in her testimony.
Villagers came forth to look upon his party in passing, for they were a splendid group. Rufus himself rode a chestnut destrier, a fine beast with a dark mane and tail, and not a glimmer of white, not even a star upon its brow. The stallion had caparisons that swept the ground as it passed—they were white edged in green oak leaves, with the Percival unicorn in green on the outer side of each hip. The horse’s hooves were polished to a gleam and Evangeline was surprised that the reins were of chain.
Rufus was garbed as a knight in the full splendor of the insignia Evangeline had seen previously gracing his father’s garments. He wore a mail hauberk with a short white tabard over it. That garment was edged with the oak leaves of the Percival insignia and the unicorn was embroidered on its front, the details picked out in gold thread. Rufus’ gloves were embroidered, as well, and extended to his elbows. He wore a long cloak of deep green wool which was lined with silver fur and fastened to his right shoulder with a large gold pin. The sunlight glinted off the brooch and his hair, making him look like a pagan divinity who set foot on the earth.
That night, they made camp in the wood, Rufus sitting with her while his men tended the horses and raised his silken tent. Braziers were lit inside the tent and she noted how sentries were posted around its perimeter so there was little chance of escape.
They dined upon cold meat and bread, cheese and thin wine, Rufus upon a folding chair in the tent and Evangeline seated on a pallet beside him. The fare was fine but might have been as dust in her mouth and she thought of the merits of horsebread instead.
She could not evict the sight of Ramsay, fallen and still upon the road, from her thoughts. Had he died? Was he injured beyond the skill of any healer? She wished he might be hale and en route to Normandy where he would be safe. What if he did not awaken? What if she had surrender to Rufus for naught?
She became aware that Rufus was watching her closely and thanked him for the meal.
His brows rose and he dug in his purse, removing that cursed ring. He met her gaze. “I believe you mislaid this,” he said, holding out the ring. “I should hope in future you will not be so careless with your treasures, my lady.”
Evangeline was keenly aware of all those in the tent and near it who might hear her words. She also felt that she matched wits with an unpredictable foe, and could see no benefit in provoking him.
Yet.
She rose and pushed her finger through the ring, knowing this had been his intention. “I thank you for its return, sir. It was taken from me, though, not surrendered by choice.” To her surprise, Rufus seized her hand, holding her captive before him. She wriggled, but his grip was tight and she hated how he smiled when she could not free herself.
