Mary stretched and yawned, then smiled. No wonder Stephen wrote that he had to work hard to keep up with his wife. She suddenly wondered if Stephen ever told Bronwyn how much he admired her. Stephen’s letters were full of praise for his new people and his new life, and especially his courageous wife.
Mary urged her horse forward to catch Bronwyn. Already the Scotswoman was stopping at a serf’s hut.
It was late morning when they finally stopped on the side of a hill for a moment’s rest. The men stretched out on the grass, breathing deeply, eating hungrily of bread, wine, and cheese.
Mary and Bronwyn sat on the crest of the hill at a place where Bronwyn could see across the countryside. It had taken all of Mary’s strength to follow.
“What was that?” Bronwyn asked suddenly.
Mary listened for a moment, but all she heard was the soft sigh of the wind and the guards’ voices.
“There it is again!” Bronwyn looked over her shoulder, and Rab came to nudge her. “Yes, boy,” she whispered. She stood quickly. “Someone’s hurt,” she said to Mary as she began to run to the top of the hill, Rab beside her.
The guards looked up, but they gave the women privacy, thinking a call of nature took them over the crest of the hill.
Mary strained her eyes but saw nothing. Below them lay a pond, the edges half frozen, great thin sheets of ice floating in the water.
Bronwyn strained her eyes until suddenly Rab gave a sharp bark. “There!” Bronwyn yelled as she began to run.
Mary didn’t see a thing but lifted her heavy skirts and followed. It was only when she was halfway to the pond that she saw the child’s head and shoulders. The child was trapped in the icy water.
Mary felt a shiver run along her spine, and she began to run faster and faster. She didn’t notice when she passed Bronwyn. She ran straight into the water and grabbed the child.
The little boy looked up at her with great, blank eyes. Only minutes were left if they were to keep the child from freezing.
“He’s stuck!” Mary called to Bronwyn. “His foot seems to be caught on something. Can you throw me your knife?”
Bronwyn’s mind worked quickly. She knew the child could stand little more of the icy water so time was of the essence. If she tossed Mary the knife and Mary didn’t catch it, they’d probably lose the child. There was only one way to make sure Mary got the knife.
“Rab!” Bronwyn said, and the dog recognized the sound of urgency in her voice. “Go to the men and get help. Bring someone here. We need help, Rab.”
The dog shot away like an arrow from a bow. But he did not head toward the guards who waited just over the hill.
“Damn!” Bronwyn cursed, but it was already too late to call the dog back to her.
She took her knife from her side and plunged into the cold water. She moved as quickly as she could, hindered by the growth under the water. Mary was blue with cold, but she held on to the boy, whose face was turning gray.
Bronwyn knelt, the water smacking against her chest like a brick wall. She felt for the child’s legs, felt the undergrowth that held him. Her teeth were beginning to chatter as she sawed away at the tough growth.
“He’s free!” she whispered after a moment. She saw that Mary’s face was beginning to lose its blueness, turning to the more dangerous gray. Bronwyn knelt and lifted the child. “Can you follow?” she called over her shoulder to Mary.
Mary didn’t have the excess strength to reply. She concentrated all her energies on moving her legs and following Bronwyn’s quickly moving form.
Bronwyn barely reached the edge of the pond before the child was taken from her arms. She looked into Raine’s serious face.
“How…?” Bronwyn began.
“Miles and I were riding to meet you when your dog came to us. Rab was bounding like a demon.” As Raine spoke he was constantly moving. He put the child into one of his men’s arms, then wrapped his cloak around Bronwyn’s cold, wet shoulders.
“Mary?” Bronwyn asked as she began to shiver.
“Miles has her,” Raine said as he tossed his sister-in-law into his saddle and mounted behind her.
They went quickly back to the Montgomery castle. Raine held his horse under control with one hand while his other hand rubbed Bronwyn’s shoulders and arms. She realized she was freezing, and she tried to make herself into a ball and snuggle against Raine’s solid warmth.
Once inside the gates Raine carried Bronwyn upstairs to her bedchamber. He stood her in the middle of the floor while he opened a chest and pulled a heavy robe of golden wool from it. “Here, put this on,” he commanded as he turned his back on her and began to stoke the fire.
Bronwyn’s fingers trembled as she tried to unfasten her shirt. The wet, clammy fabric clung to her. She peeled it away from her skin, then took the robe Raine had tossed on the bed beside her. The wool was heavy and thick, but she couldn’t yet feel any of its warmth.
