David’s eyebrows lifted. “My brother? How close is he?”
“They are upon us, my lord.”
David passed Gart a long look before bolting from the armory. Gart grabbed his helm and went in pursuit, as did de Lara and the other knights that were donning their gear. Soon the armory was emptied of fighting men, leaving the squires to pick up the remainder of the armor and weapons that had been left behind, but the boys soon began bolting from the chamber as well.
The entire group of knights, squires and soldiers raced to the front of the manse where horses and grooms await, and great torches burned deep into the black of the night. As Davidcame around the front of the building, he could see an army approaching from the great drive that led to the front gates. He could hear the horses making noise and the armor and men grinding and grating after a long ride from Hereford. He hadn’t seen his brother in months and it would seem the man had arrived on a most opportune night.
The Earl of Hereford had come.
*
“The longer wedelay, the more chance there is of Lady de Moyon’s escort slipping past us and on into London,” David explained patiently. “I have explained the seriousness of the situation to you. I am not sure why you want to discuss it further.”
Christopher de Lohr, Earl of Hereford and Worcester, was weary after his five-day ride from his seat, Lioncross Abbey, near the Welsh borders. He was two years older than his brother, an enormous man that was taller than his brother by several inches, with a full head of blond hair and a neatly trimmed beard. He had the same sky blue eyes as David and a square-jawed, excruciatingly handsome appearance. But it was his reputation as a fighting man that all men knew and feared, his brother and Gart no exceptions. They both had a healthy respect for the man and his abilities. He was a hell of a warrior.
In spite of his warring reputation, he was an exceedingly calm and level-headed man. David tended to be the hothead in the family, the rash one, and Christopher was collected and wise. But at the moment, having heard his brother’s explanation as to why seventy de Lohr men were mobilized and preparing for battle, his normally-calm demeanor was wavering. He was struggling with his composure.
“Let me make sure I understand this,” Christopher dragged a weary hand over his face. “I have brought seven hundred men with me from Lioncross with the intention of supplying Baron Buckland with troops to support his efforts in France only to discover that my alliance with Buckland has been destroyed because Forbes had an illicit affair with Buckland’s wife?”
He made the situation sound horrible and despicable. David shook his head strongly.
“You are simplifying the circumstances,” he said. “It is much more complex than that. Gart knew Lady de Moyon as a child. They were reacquainted when we went to Dunster Castle, may I remind you, at your request. While we were there, Julian went mad, accusing Gart of seducing his wife. I can vouch that the man did nothing of the sort.”
Christopher interrupted him, throwing an arm in the direction of the manse courtyard. “Then why are you mobilizing seventy soldiers to go and rescue Lady de Moyon from a Buckland escort?”
He sounded angry, unusual dynamics between the two brothers. David didn’t dare look at Gart, standing strong and silent near the door. He wanted to keep his brother’s focus, and his anger, directed at him.
“Because Buckland is insane, unpredictable and dangerous,” he maintained his calm. “While we were at Dunster, he struck his wife in front of us. He then proceeded to beat the woman nearly to death. I gave Gart permission, as an old friend of the family, to remain behind after the army left and make sure Lady de Moyon was nursed back to health. Gart is not to blame for succumbing to a woman he had always known and been fond of. She is abused and married to a monster. Naturally, he feels protective of her. He loves her.”
Christopher waited for more explanation to come forth but when nothing more was said, he lifted his eyebrows expectantly. “She is married to a baron.”
“The man is a beast.”
Christopher threw his hands up. “It does not matter and you know it,” he insisted. “My alliance with de Moyon is too valuable to lose because your knight cannot control his lust for the man’s wife.”
David could see that the conversation was only going to get worse. He turned to Gart, still lingering in the shadows.
“Get out,” he told him.
Gart didn’t hesitate. He quit the solar and shut the door behind him. In fact, he was glad to go, afraid that if he had stayed any longer, his temper would have gotten the better of him and it wouldn’t do his cause any good to show disrespect to the earl.
Christopher was usually much more level-headed than his brother but, like David had in the beginning, he didn’t understand that this wasn’t a simple case of adultery. As Gart had explained it, his relationship with Emberley had never felt like that. It had been a simple matter of a man and woman loving each other deeply. Betrayal didn’t even enter into it.
He stood outside the door for several minutes, listening to them argue. The longer Gart stood there, the more frustrated and anxious he became. Every moment they delayed added to the possibility that Emberley and the escort would slip by them and into London.
There, Julian would be waiting for her and he knew for a fact that Julian would not allow her to survive the night. He knew the man would beat her to death for her disobedience. Gart’s palms began to sweat and his heart to race. If he had the choice of disobeying his liege or saving Emberley’s life, he would choose Emberley every time. He simply couldn’t wait any longer.
As the de Lohr brothers argued, Gart slipped off into the night.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The first arrowhit Donnell in the ribs, sending the man crashing to the ground. Riding behind him on a small gray mare, Emberley and Romney shrieked as more arrows began to fly out of the trees, hitting four more soldiers and sending them to the ground.
The remaining eight soldiers unsheathed their weapons and began shouting, somewhat disoriented because Donnell, their leader, had been struck down and was incapable of delivering orders. The men of the escort party tried to form a perimeter but more arrows flew out of the dark trees and struck down two more.
The men began screaming to each other and the horses, startled, began to scatter. Panic enveloped the group and the little gray mare bolted off in spite of Romney’s attempts to rein it to a halt.
Emberley, seated behind her son on the mare, was tossed off in the ensuing confusion but oddly enough, ended up on her feet. She had literally jumped from the little horse when it bucked and now stood on the muddy, dark road, watching the men around her scatter. Arrows zinged overhead, hitting two more men and she shrieked, squatting down on the road and covering her head with her hands. She had no idea where the arrows were coming from and therefore had no idea where to run. So she stayed put, arms over her head, and called to her son.
