“How is that clever? Should he not be fleeing this village as fast as we are?”
“Aye, but nay at the same time and nay in the same direction.”
Nigel spit out a vicious curse and slapped her horse on the rump, startling the animal into a gallop. A heartbeat later she heard a cry go up on her right, and she knew they had been seen. The moment Nigel moved in front of her, Gisele set all of her attention on following him as closely as she could. She did not need to look behind them to know that her enemies were close at hand. She could hear them nipping at her heels.
This time they could have been trapped in the inn if David had not warned them. It was as if her enemies returned more fiercely and got even closer to her each time she escaped. Gisele was deeply afraid, terrified that her luck was rapidly running out. And it was clear that Nigel’s ability to sense danger could fail him miserably at times.
It was nearly high noon before they had a chance to stop long enough to dismount and water the horses. Gisele dampened a small rag with water and wiped her face, then held the cloth against her throat as she tried to cool herself. Summer was drawing nigh, and it was growing too warm to do so much hard riding. She hoped the men chasing them were as uncomfortable as she was. It would be a small, welcome justice.
“We will shake them soon, lass,” Nigel reassured her.
“Will we? DeVeaux or those seeking to earn their coin seem to be awaiting us at every turn.” She sighed. “We shall need an army to get to the port.”
“Nay, just cunning.”
Gisele looked at him, wondering idly if the heat was beginning to affect his wits. “I know that it is oftimes said that cunning can be sharp, but I do not think it will serve to cut a path through our enemies.”
Nigel laughed softly and handed her a large piece of bread. “Gnaw on this, lass. ’Twill take the bite of hunger away, and may soften the bite of your tongue. Now, we both ken that we arenae strong enough to stand and fight. There are too many men thrashing about looking for you. So, we must use all of our wits to elude them.” He leaned against a tree on Gisele’s right, took a long drink from the wineskin, and then handed it to her.
“I know that our only true choice is to run.” She helped herself to a long, satisfying drink of wine. “It just holds the stink of cowardice at times.”
“Ye have heeded too many tales of grand valor, the ones where the knight faces thrice his number and dies rather than turn and hie for the safety of the hills.”
She did not need to ask what Nigel thought of those tales The scorn weighting his deep voice made it very clear. “You do not think that such acts reveal great bravery?”
“Only if the mon has no other choice. If he is cornered with no place to turn, then, aye, ’tis brave to stand tall, sword in hand, and make those who would take your life pay dearly for it. Far better than cowering and begging for one’s life. But if there is a choice, a way to escape sure death, then he is a fool to nay grab it and live to fight another day.” He smiled and shrugged. “What purpose is served? Ye are dead and your enemies may ride away and continue whatever evil they wish to, and your family and friends have one less skilled fighter to protect them. Ye just give the minstrels something new to sing about.”
After staring at him for a moment, Gisele laughed. “You have a true skill at cutting to the heart of nonsense.”
“Nay always, sweeting. I used to listen to the tales and think it all so glorious. Then I faced such a choice and thought, nay, this is madness. In truth, ’tis much akin to suicide. I took myself to a place where I could face my enemies on a more equal footing and give them a real fight, nay just a moment’s sport. And that is what we do now.”
“And it is most reasonable. I just grow weary, and feel a need to bemoan my fate.”
“That is easy to understand. I am sorry, but we must be on our way again.”
“Allow me but a few moments to seek some privacy,” she said, pleased that she no longer blushed when she asked for such a privilege.
“Be quick, lass. I dinnae like to linger in one place for too long when our enemies are so close at hand.”
Gisele nodded and trotted away into the trees. She did not need Nigel to tell her to hurry. The fact that they had to flee the village at dawn and had been closely followed all morning made her very aware of the danger they faced. Despite her brave talk of standing and fighting, she did not really want to face the DeVeaux, and she certainly did not want to do so without Nigel at her side. She talked boldly, Gisele mused with a grimace of self-disgust, but she did not have the stomach to honor her own words.
As she straightened her clothes and prepared herself to return to Nigel, Gisele suddenly tensed. She was sure she had heard something, but could see nothing. Her heart pounding so hard and fast it was painful, Gisele spun around and found herself facing a very large, hairy man, his colors proclaiming him a DeVeau. Even as she turned to run she knew it was too late to save herself. She cried out in pain and fear as the man grabbed her and threw her to the ground. She stared up at him, praying he was the only one so that she might still have a chance to save herself.
Nigel tensed, then cursed. Something was wrong. Every instinct told him so. Since there was no sight or sound of their enemy approaching him, he decided that it was Gisele who had roused his sudden concern. He hesitated, not wanting to act rashly. After hours of running he could simply be imagining danger around every corner, and all he would accomplish by hunting her down was robbing her of a moment of privacy. Then he heard a soft cry and hurried into the wood, striving for both silence and speed.
When he saw the man standing over Gisele, sword drawn, Nigel struggled against the urge to charge to her aid. The man could easily kill Gisele before he could be stopped. What puzzled Nigel was where the man had come from. He had seen no other DeVeaux. This man had to be a scout, or the DeVeaux had spread themselves far and wide in the hope of improving their chances of capturing Gisele. There was also the possibility that the man acted alone, simply hoping to gain all of the reward for himself. As he edged closer, Nigel decided that the man deserved to pay dearly for his greed.
“Do you wish to murder me, or take me to others who will commit the deed for you?” Gisele asked, tensed and prepared for any chance to get away.
“You will be easier to handle if you are dead,” the man replied, smiling faintly.
“Such a brave man you are to cut dead a small, unarmed woman.”
“You are a murdering bitch. Is it not better to die by the sword than to hang, dying slowly and painfully as you have all of your life’s breath choked out of you?”
“I would prefer not to die at all.” He painted a bone-chilling picture, but Gisele refused to allow him to see her fear. “It astounds me to discover how many people believe the word of the DeVeaux. Rich and powerful they may be, but they have long been known to have little honor. The truth rarely stains their tongues, either.”
“What concern is that of mine? This quarrel is between you and them, and they have the coin.”
