De Lacey drew his sword again and spurred his stallion into the forest. De Bec bellowed and kicked the dun after him while Hugh of Chester rammed his own mount into Montgomery’s horse, preventing him from pursuit. Among the trees, someone screamed. Guyon hauled on his rein and urged the chestnut in pursuit of de Lacey and de Bec.
He was too late. The huntsman Rannulf sprawled in sightless regard of the bare winter branches. Walter de Lacey, his tunic splashed with blood, stood over him, his eyes blazing and his whole body trembling with the aftermath of violently expended effort and continuing rage. Miles was leaning against a tree, face screwed up with pain and arms clutching his torso.
Ignoring his injured arm, Guyon flung himself down from the courser and hastened to him.
‘I’m all right,’ Miles said huskily. ‘Just winded. I’m not as fast as I was … more’s the pity.’ He flashed a dark look at de Lacey and pushed himself upright.
Guyon glanced him over and, reassured, swung to the other man. ‘I said I wanted him alive!’ he snapped.
De Lacey bared his teeth. ‘Should I have let him knife your father and escape?’
‘If you were close enough to kill him, you were close enough to stop him by other means, but then dead men don’t talk, do they?’
De Lacey’s sword twitched level and the red edge glinted at Guyon, who reached to draw from his own scabbard. Hugh of Chester, moving swiftly for a man so bulky, placed himself between the men, his back to Guyon, his formidable blue glare for de Lacey. ‘My lord, you forget yourself,’ he said coldly.
‘I forget nothing!’ de Lacey spat, but lowered his blade to wipe it on the corpse before ramming it back in his scabbard. He turned on his heel to examine the stolen horse, running his hands down its legs to check for signs of lameness.
Guyon compressed his lips and struggled to contain his fury.
De Lacey mounted the black, looped his other mount’s reins at the cantle and after a contemptuous look at Guyon, rode over to where Montgomery waited.
Guyon watched de Lacey with narrowed eyes and with conscious effort, slowly unclenched his fingers from the hilt of his sword.
Chester bent down beside the dead man and picked up the bow. ‘You were drawn here to be killed, you realise that, lad?’
Guyon grimaced. ‘I suspected it back at the keep and knew for certain the moment we caught up with them. A man so anxious to retrieve his horse would hardly lag to wait for us. Did you see the way he blocked my path to make me a sitting target for this poor greedy wretch?’
‘It was all arranged last night,’ de Bec said, leading over Guyon’s courser and Miles’s grey. ‘I’m sure of it now. If you search his pouch, you’ll probably find the cost of his betrayal.’
Chester reached to the purse threaded upon the huntsman’s belt, unlatched the buckle and delved. The small silver coins, minted with the head of the Conqueror, gleamed on his broad, fleshy palm in mute evidence of treachery. He trickled them from hand to hand, eyes following their flow and then looked up at Guyon. ‘Will you take it further?’
Guyon gingerly remounted. ‘How can I? Oh, I know that’s proof in your hands, but it’s not damning. It could easily be claimed that Rannulf won it at dice. Besides, with this arm I’d be mad to risk challenging de Lacey or Montgomery to a trial by combat which would be the sure outcome of a public accusation. No, let it be. Each of us—’ He broke off and looked around as his father, who had reached for his mount’s bridle, uttered an involuntary hiss of pain. ‘Sir?’
Miles made a face. ‘I think I must have a couple of cracked ribs – and my pride is sore wounded. In the old days I’d have taken Rannulf like a wraith from behind and him none the wiser until my dagger was at his throat. The flesh grows old and the mind forgets.’ He shook his head regretfully. ‘De Lacey has come out of this coil with a halo of glory, hasn’t he?’
‘Shining with corruption,’ Guyon agreed. ‘But at least I know where his intentions are nailed.’
CHAPTER6
Alicia fetched the comfrey salve and a fresh dressing and went to Miles where he sat on the bed. He was stripped to the waist and she had just unbound the yards of swaddling bands from his injured ribs in order to treat again the nasty graze that swept over his left side, legacy of yesterday’s scrimmage.
‘You and your son between you seem determined to exhaust our supplies,’ she remarked to break the silence.
‘Entirely unintentional,’ he said ruefully and stroked the head of the white bitch sitting at his knee. Now that their guests had departed – some of them in haste following the incidents of yesterday – Guyon and Judith were in a wall chamber examining the account rolls. Since Melyn was tucked around Judith’s shoulders, Cadi had been banished.
Alicia flicked him a swift glance. ‘Hold this for me.’
He took the ointment and sniffed its green herbal aroma. ‘It’s only a scrape and a couple of cracked ribs. You need not go to all this trouble.’
‘It could have been your life!’ She dipped two fingers in the jar and began to smear the salve over his ribs. He tensed at the first, cold touch. Alicia murmured an apology, her colour heightening. He made a disclaimer and slowly relaxed. The light touch of herfingers was soothing. He fondled the dog’s ears and gazed at a colourful hanging on the wall.
‘What happens now?’
Miles shrugged. ‘Nothing. We keep a close watch on all future moves of Walter de Lacey and our new Montgomery kin.’
‘You are not going to pursue the matter? Murder and twice attempted murder?’
‘And no proof. You cannot make a corpse speak. It is Guyon’s word against de Lacey’s with an equal number of witnesses to swear for either side.’
