Warwolfe (de Wolfe Pack Book 0)(14)

Alary had wandered into her line of sight again. He stood there, looking down at her, and it made Ghislaine very nervous. Undoubtedly, her brother was considering what she’d said but, knowing him, there was some grisly twist to it all. She’d seen what the man could do to his enemies. Therefore, she braced herself.

“That is a very astute observation,” Alary finally said. “Can the knight speak for himself? Remove yourself, Ghislaine. No one will hurt the knight. I wish to speak with him.”

Ghislaine didn’t trust her brother. He’d been known to break bonds before and had a history of telling mistruths to those around him. Still, she couldn’t lay on the knight forever so she shifted her body, cautiously climbing off the man. He was crumpled on his side, his dark blonde hair matted with dirt and blood. She remained beside him, bending down to get a look at his face in the darkness.

Truthfully, she couldn’t even tell if he was conscious. She peered closer to his face, catching a glimmer of his eyeballs in the darkness.

He was awake.

“What is your name?” she asked him in his language, something she had learned at her parents’ insistence because it was the common language of many people in England. “Do not be afraid. Tell me your name.”

In the darkness, the knight blinked. “You speak my language.”

“I do. Answer me. What is your name?”

“De Lohr.”

His voice sounded tight, as he was in pain. Ghislaine rocked back on her heels, turning to her brother. “His name is de Lohr,” she said. “What would you ask him?”

Alary moved closer, bending over to get a look at the knight. “I want to know a great many things,” he said. “Move away. I would speak with him alone.”

Ghislaine shook her head. “I will not,” she said. “I do not trust you not to kill him.”

Alary’s expression tightened and he reached down, grabbing her roughly by the shoulder. “I told you to go.”

Ghislaine balled a fist and hit his hand away, hard. “He is my prisoner,” she declared. “I brought him here. I saved him from death. If you want to speak with him, then do it, but I will not leave.”

Alary was exasperated. “Why are you so protective of him? What is he to you?”

His question brought her building rage to a halt because it was something she didn’t have a ready answer for. She had a myriad of theories, but no hard truths. Her gaze moved from her brother to the knight, who was looking at her steadily – with resignation. He knew his fate was in her hands. She was his only protection against the mob and he knew it. Why was she so protective of him?

Remember Norman mercy the next time you intend to do one of us harm.

Something that big, nasty Norman knight had said to her when he had captured her and demanded to know of her king’s fate. He could have killed her but he hadn’t and he’d reminded her of that fragile mercy. Therefore, his statement remained with her, whether or not she wanted it to.

Now, it was a matter of honor… in the same situation, would she show mercy also?

Perhaps, that was the real truth behind her protection of the injured knight.

“This man is nothing to me,” she said for all to hear, torn between defiance and embarrassment. “But one of this knight’s brethren captured me during the battle and could have easily killed me. Yet, he spared my life and he told me to remember Norman mercy. Because of him, I will protect this knight because I always pay my debts. It is a matter of honor now – my life was spared and so shall this man’s be. He is to be untouched as long as I have breath in my body.”

The men around her understood such a debt. They were warriors, all of them, and mercy was that rare and precious quality that often times was the true test of honor in battle. Ghislaine of Mercia was a warrior woman, raised with her brothers to fight and to protect their lands and people.

When Harold brought his army south, Ghislaine’s brother, Earl Edwin, had been far to the north so Ghislaine and the outcast Alary had joined Harold’s army to meet the Norman invasion. They were warriors from generations of warriors, born and bred, and that was why she was here – a strong woman who commanded respect from the men around her. And because she was a warrior, she had the capacity to understand what honor and sacrifice meant.

I always pay my debts. She was paying it upon the cause of a wounded Norman knight.

But Alary was different. He didn’t understand much beyond his own selfish wants; glory for himself, wealth for himself, and an undying jealousy of his elder brothers’ status – he had two elder brothers who were both earls: Edwin of Mercia and Morcar of Northumbria. But Alary the Dark was nothing; perhaps he had hoped that supporting Harold against the Norman invasion would somehow prove to the king that he was worthy of such titles as his brothers held. But after this day, that was not to be and the sting of disappointment was a powerful thing in Alary’s heart.

Therefore, he wasn’t pleased with his sister’s refusal to turn the Norman knight over to him. Without another word, he stomped off into the darkness, taking some of the men with him. Only a few lingered now but with the declaration of Ghislaine’s merciful intentions, there wasn’t much reason for them to hang around the Norman knight. He was too injured to escape and even if he tried, they could easily catch him. Therefore, they started to move away in a disgruntled weary group.