A scuff of a boot on the path in front of her had her skidding to a halt.She peered through the darkness to see who it was, praying it was one of the serving wenches or even Jean Paul.
In all of Madelaine’s young years God had yet to answer her prayers and this night was no exception.Lucien stepped into the path.His back was to her and almost immediately another person joined him.A woman.
Breath held, Madelaine slid into the shadows of the castle wall.
“You sent the messenger?”Lucien asked.
“Aye.”The woman stepped into the light.
She knew her.The blacksmith’s widow.A lazy woman who warmed the beds of various men, who earned her meals through her talents in the bedchamber, and who was whispered to be very talented indeed.So talented she’d caught the attention of the count and had been warming his bed for many months.
Hers was the voice from the incident in the garden so long ago.She was the woman the count had tupped while Madelaine and Christien hid in the shadows.
“The count doesn’t know?”Lucien asked.
“Nay,” the woman said.She had long, blond hair that was more white than wheat and pale skin.’Twas no wonder most of the men went in search of her for she was beautiful, but Madelaine heard her price was high and she wouldn’t give herself to just any man.
“How long before we hear a response?”the woman asked.Madelaine searched her memory for a name.
Lucien shrugged.“’Tis hard to tell in these times.Philip is occupied with deMolay and the Templars.My hope is he sees that the missive comes from his cousin the countess and reads it right away.”
Madelaine gasped.Her hand flew to her mouth to cover the sound but ’twas too late.Lucien and the woman spun around.
“Who’s there?”the woman demanded.
Giselle.Her name was Giselle.
Lucien took a step forward, searching the shadows.
Madelaine turned and fled, picking up her skirts and running as she’d never run before, her only thought to get out of the bailey and outside the walls of the castle.If she reached the forest beyond, she’d be able to hide.Hiding inside the castle wasn’t an option.Lucien would use the full force of his authority to tear down the walls looking for her and she needed to get to her cousin.
“Stop her!”Lucien yelled.
She ran faster, dodging the hands reaching out to her and slipping out of a few men’s grasps.
Men on the battlements rushed to their stations, shouting to each other.
A soldier raced along the battlement to the gatehouse, an axe in his hand glinting in the firelight of the torches.If he cut through the rope holding the portcullis before she reached it, she was as good as dead.The soldier made it to the gatehouse and she lost sight of him.Not knowing where it came from, she put on another burst of speed.Behind her soldiers were yelling.Inside the gatehouse the soldier with the axe was hacking away at the rope.
Madelaine reached the main entrance just as the portcullis broke free of the thick rope.She dove through the entrance.The wind of the falling portcullis whispered across her legs before the metal teeth bit into the wood of the drawbridge.Mon Dieu,that had been too close.
The closed gate wouldn’t hold Lucien back for long, though.She stumbled to her feet and ran for the line of trees.Inside the inner ward, men were shouting.The forest swallowed her up and still she dared not slow.Her hope was that Jean Paul would hear the commotion and come to her rescue although she realized her hope was futile.She hadn’t seen Jean Paul all day and he always made a point to show himself to her.More than likely Jean Paul was dead.
Her breath sawed in and out of burning lungs and the beat of her heart was so heavy, so fast, the forest animals probably heard it.She certainly didn’t hear anything over the drum of it.Her legs were weakening, exhausted, but still she pressed on, breathing hard, breathing deep.Breathing ragged.
Lucien had sent a letter to King Philip and used her name to get his attention.What did it all mean?
Had Lucien revealed her relationship with Christien to her cousin?Fear had her tripping over the hem of her gown.Where was Christien?Was he in Philip’s dungeon and if so what would Philip do to him?She had to get to Paris to find out.How she was to get there, she didn’t know yet.
The faint sounds of barking dogs were far off in the distance.Mon Dieu,he’d brought the dogs!She put on a burst of speed, running blindly through the dark night.A tree branch snagged her veil and yanked her head back.She grabbed the veil, not wanting to leave a trail even though the dogs could easily smell the wake of her fear.A root seemed to lift from the ground and she tripped, stumbled a few steps and went down on one knee.Pain erupted up her leg.When she stood, her knee almost gave out.She controlled her sobs but the tears leaked down her cheeks.
She glanced over her shoulder.The forest was too dark.Quiet, except for the baying of the dogs in the distance.She began to pray disjointed prayers that had never helped before but in which she’d never given up hope.
“Pater noster, qui es in caelis,”she whispered through uneven breaths,“sanctificetur Nomen tuum.”Our Father, who art in heaven…
A sharp bark told her the hounds were closer.Lucien called her name.Her heart nearly stopped and she forgot about her prayer.She stumbled into a clearing and skidded to a halt.Hands on her knees, she dragged in deep breath after deep breath.Tears dripped off her nose into the soft earth.The sound of horses’ hooves quickly coming toward her from the other direction had her jerking her head up.
She slid behind a tree and waited, hoping it was Jean Paul or mayhap Christien.Oh, wouldn’t it be wonderful if Christien were on his way to her!But she had a horrible suspicion Christien was being detained in Paris.
