A Dishonorable Knight(55)

Gareth heaved her into the saddle and lay her against Isrid's neck. Gathering up the rope she had held onto, he lashed her to the horse so she would not fall off. Pressing a kiss to her cheek, he took Isrid's reins and continued forging a path through the dark forest.

***

Gareth stopped in a sheltered glade and stretched his arms over his head, grimacing at the tightness in his back from so much walking. The sun had been up for almost an hour and he had neither heard nor seen signs that they were being followed. He prayed that Cynan and Bryant had gotten away safely and that their decision to split up had not been a foolish one. Gareth turned and scratched Isrid's ears. Would that the soldiers he had trained with this year past were as uncomplaining and dependable.

"A double portion of oats for you when we reach Aberystwyth if I have to sell my sword to get them," he promised Isrid who nudged his shoulder softly in return. Gareth's smile faded as he turned his attention to Elena who was still sound asleep, sprawled awkwardly over Isrid's back and neck. Brushing her tangled hair back from her face, he studied her pale features. There was a smudge of dirt on her cheek. He carefully wiped it off, wondering not for the first time in the last few days at the change in her. She had ceased complaining, had not even shown fear when they were being pursued. She had, in fact, risked her life to warn them of Richard's soldiers. Cynically, Gareth tried to determine if she had anything to gain from her actions, but he could think of nothing. Why, then, the change? Baffled, he untied the rope that secured her to Isrid and gently lifted her down, laying her in the thick grass under a tall oak. Taking Isrid's saddle off, he rubbed the tired animal down and gave it what was left in the feed bag. With the sack of food the innkeeper's wife had given them in one hand, he stretched out beside Elena.

Elena stirred and slowly pushed herself up. "I'm starving," she said, her voice husky with sleep. Gareth offered her cheese and the last half loaf of bread. Elena took a large wedge of cheese and ripped the bread in half, handing Gareth his portion. They said nothing as they devoured the humble fare and drained the wine in the flask.

When the food and wine were gone, Elena leaned back against the tree and took a deep breath.

"That feels so much better," she said, patting her stomach and closing her eyes.

Gareth nodded, unsure of what to say. Suddenly, Elena sat up straight.

"What about those men? Are we being followed?"

Gareth shook his head. "I don't think so. We made pretty good time and I didn't hear anything other than an owl or two."

Elena relaxed back against the tree, her eyes on Gareth as he rolled up the empty food sack and stuffed it in the bundles tied to the saddle.

"How long can we rest here?" she asked. He had had but a few hours of sleep and could not possibly have the energy to continue much longer.

"Perhaps half an hour at best."

"How much further do we have to travel to reach Aberystwyth?"

"Four, maybe five hours," he said, his eyes closing drowsily.

Elena nodded. She watched Gareth loose the battle against sleep. He slumped down against the tree, his head cocked at what looked to be an uncomfortable angle, his brow furrowed as if even in sleep he was worrying about their safety. Of its own volition, Elena's hand reached out towards him. She jerked it back, but after staring at him a moment longer, she reached out again and eased him onto his side. Pulling a blanket from the saddle, she propped it under his head and smoothed his unruly hair.

Standing, she stretched her stiff muscles and hearing the faint sound of trickling water, foraged through the edge of the forest until she found a small spring. There was barely enough water to splash in, but Elena managed to wash her face and arms and drank the cool sweet water until her thirst abated.

She sat on the rocky bank and stripped off her shoes and threadbare stockings. Though the chill of the water made her inhale sharply, she soaked her feet in the cold water, relishing the quiet beauty of the forest. How odd, she considered, that she should feel so at peace here, in this glen, in this country. It was as if the fever she had suffered had burned away her earlier life, freeing her from the angst of living in the king’s court: the constant scheming and manipulating—and that just for the chance to wait on someone of higher rank, or to gain a more prestigious seat at the next feast. The relief of not trying to live down a disgrace, not worrying what others thought of her, was so great, she wondered if she could ever return to Richard’s court.

Elena drew her cold feet out of the water and stared unseeing at them. Had she changed so much in such a short amount of time? she wondered. Well had she played the calculated games of court life. She’d been proud of her knowledge, her ability to read people and manipulate them to better her own position. Would she not miss the stimulation of such daily calculation and risk? She searched her heart and mind. No. She would not.