Warwolfe (de Wolfe Pack Book 0)(52)

Still wedged between Aramis’ legs, Ghislaine could hear the revelry but she refused to take her eyes off of Aramis, who was looking down at her with those dark cloudy eyes. She wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t try to grab her or otherwise try to snatch this victory from her if she lowered the dagger, so it remained in place until the corner of Aramis’ mouth began to twitch. When a slow smile spread across his lips and, perhaps, even gave a faint nod of approval, Ghislaine smiled back.

The dagger swiftly came away.

After that, Ghislaine spent the rest of the evening seated between Aramis and Gaetan as the knights drank and told stories of the man they were going to rescue. She didn’t really participate in the conversation, but she was permitted to listen. De Russe even filled her cup with mead. It would seem that besting the man had the effect she had hoped for; now, they weren’t nearly so indifferent to her. Enemy or not, she had proven herself in some small way to the Anges de Guerre. It was a night she would never forget.

Little did she know that while she was enjoying her evening, Gunnora’s majordomo had sent a message, at Gunnora’s request, to Alary, who had been easy to track because of the size of his group and the lone wagon and oxen that was pulling it.

Near dawn, Alary received a missive from a Westerham rider that Lady Ghislaine had arrived at Westerham for the night with an escort of Norman soldiers and Lady Gunnora suggested that Alary wait for her to catch up with him.

Puzzled and panicked, waiting for Ghislaine was the last thing Alary had in mind.





CHAPTER ELEVEN




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Message Received


The Village of Oxshott

Kristoph was healing slowly but his misery lingered.

It was just before dawn on the fourth day after the battle that saw Harold Godwinson lose his life and Kristoph was awake, standing beside the horse that Alary rode because his bound hands were tied to the saddle. Alary wouldn’t permit him to have his own mount, even though his battered body screamed for it, instead making him walk beside him as they traveled. If Alary spurred the horse into a trot, then Kristoph ran beside him and if he happened to stumble, which he did once, then Alary would drag him for as long as he found pleasure in his suffering.

But Kristoph was strong, which probably irked Alary. He never begged for mercy and he hardly said a word about anything, not his pain nor his suffering nor his hunger, which was substantial. He’d hardly been fed since his capture but the previous night, one of Alary’s men had taken pity on him and brought him half a loaf of bread from the inn where Alary was staying, bread that Kristoph had taken gratefully and wolfed down. He had no idea when he’d be fed next and, even now, as the sun began to peek over the eastern horizon on this damp, cold morning, he wasn’t sure when he would eat this day, if he would eat this day. But his strength was returning for the most part and he suspected he’d be able to escape in a day or two.

That was the plan.

Therefore, he didn’t let his depression in the situation get to him. He’d been watching Alary for the better part of four days, analyzing his enemy. The man was petty and suspicious, but he didn’t seem particularly bright. Kristoph was fairly certain he could outsmart him at some point.

As he stood by the horse this chill morning with a few of Alary’s men standing around on guard, he noticed when a rider on a weary horse arrived and began asking questions of some of Alary’s men. Someone pointed to the inn and the man disappeared inside, which led Kristoph to wonder if the rider was looking for Alary in particular. It seemed to him as if the man was looking for someone from the way he was behaving.

But Kristoph didn’t give the rider any more consideration than that as the same man who had given him the half-loaf of bread untied his hands and gave him watered ale to drink and another cup full of a barley gruel, which Kristoph sucked down in one big swallow. He smiled gratefully to the man and handed back the wooden cups about the time another of Alary’s men came bolting from the inn, heading in his direction. Kristoph heard a reference to himself, twice, and his curiosity piqued. Soon enough, he discovered that he’d been summoned.

Fighting down his trepidation, Kristoph’s four-man escort took him to the inn, which was essentially one long single-room building and little else. There were people sleeping all over the hard-packed earthen floor although at this time in the morning, men were rising as serving wenches moved among them, delivering food. Coughing, snorting, and farting abounded as men woke to a new day.

Kristoph hadn’t slept in the inn the previous night. He’d slept on the cold ground next to the cart, so the stale heat of the inn was welcoming as his escort took him over to Alary, who was sitting next to the blazing hearth. Alary was breaking his fast for the day, eating his bread and cheese as he sat at the table with the rider who had so recently arrived on the weary horse. Kristoph had been correct in his assumption that the rider had been looking for Alary. When Alary looked up from his food to notice that Kristoph had arrived, he indicated for the man to sit.

“Join me,” he said, mouth full. “Have you eaten?”

That was more than Alary had said to him their entire journey north. Kristoph was instantly on his guard.

“I was given a ration,” he said.

Alary shoved bread and cheese at him. “Eat,” he said. “You and I must have a discussion and you cannot do it on an empty stomach.”