Malcolm's Honor

Now, what was to become of the girl? She ought to be safe in a husband’s bed, not journeying along dangerous roads with a traitor. A thorough search revealed only enough food to see the party to the coast, but no gold. Passage to Normandy had its price. Either the girl had been brought along to be sold, or Evenbough had a supply of hidden coin.

Was she innocent or criminal? Had she known of her father’s actions? She was young, between fifteen and twenty summers, he wagered, and weighed little more than a child. Yet she was not helpless, as she appeared. The traitor’s daughter was no peaceful dove.

“Bind him,” Malcolm instructed his men, pointing his sword at the dishonored Evenbough. “We take him alive to the king, as ordered.”

“And the women?”

He remembered the knife, now in his possession, and recalled how the maiden had wielded it with skill. “Bind them, but do not strike them. And take care not to tie the old one too tightly. Tell her that if she escapes, I will take her charge’s life. She will believe me.”

Malcolm the Fierce had killed many and often. Even now three more bodies littered the road. But none were his men, of that he made sure. He worked them hard so in battle they would not be defeated, would not lose their lives carrying out the orders of a fickle king. What was justice in a world ruled by men? They were easily led astray by gold, power and women. Malcolm sighed. He’d seen too much in the Crusades, fighting for a cause he no longer believed in. He no longer believed in any cause.

“Unhand me, you knave.” The girl’s voice rang with a bold fury.

“Ow,” Hugh cried.

Malcolm gave more orders to his men and, certain he would be obeyed, strode to the horses, arriving in time to see the traitor’s daughter land a mighty kick on the young knight’s shoulder.

“Cease, maiden. Or I shall be forced to treat you in a like manner.” Malcolm wrapped his hand around her slim ankle, preventing further abuse to his knight.

“You bade me not to strike her,” Hugh explained as he rubbed his shoulder. “Though I am sorely tempted.”

“I admire your restraint.” Malcolm laughed as the female tried to kick her way free from his steely grip. “Behave, maiden, else I will let Hugh have his way with you.”

“Ha! As if I would want one such as this,” the knight replied. “Give me a soft woman who knows naught of fighting, but much of loving.”

Malcolm bade the young knight to tend the old woman, while the girl, mounted on the gray palfrey, seethed with silent fury. Decisions must be made. The journey ahead was long and brought with it danger, even for the best knights in the realm.

“If I release hold of your foot, will you cease this unruly behavior?”

“Mayhap.” Shadows shaped her face and cloaked it, too. He could not read her intent, but he heard the lie in her voice.

Ah, so she was not as skilled a criminal as her father. Perhaps she was innocent. ’Twas not his place to judge. “Your ankle is finely shaped and delicate, but I am not fooled by your small size. Tell me, warrior maiden, do you carry another knife?”

“Nay. You took my only one.”

“And there is not another hidden beneath your mantle?”

“Why do you doubt me, Sir Cowardly Knight? I speak the truth.”

He caught sight of her chin, a chiseled curve of both silk and defiance.

“Then you will not protest if I search for more of your weaponry. A king’s knight must take precautions.”

“A king’s knight should not attack innocent travelers and force them to his will. I think you are not so brave, sirrah.”

“’Tis not your regard I seek,” he retorted with a laugh. The maiden had the fire of a young mare, not yet tamed or ridden by man. “My loyalty is to the king. Only his opinion matters. And he wishes Evenbough and all who accompany him delivered to his court. You chose the company of a traitor. Do not blame me.”

“I am no more a traitor than you. Mayhap less of one.”

“Watch yourself, maiden, else I may be forced to treat you more harshly. But I am not yet cruel. Here is your choice. Either I search for the knives you keep hidden beneath your mantle, or I bind you like a prisoner.”

Her mouth clamped shut. He could see the generous cut of her lips, bow shaped and tempting. ’Twould be a sad day when Malcolm le Farouche was tempted by any woman.

“I would rather be bound by chains than have a cowardly knight disrobe me.”

“We agree.” For even the sight of a woman’s bare, silken curves could never entice more than lust from him, and even then, a fleeting lust.

He was, as they said, the fiercest of knights, void of conscience, void of passion. A man without heart or soul.

“Mount up, we ride,” he commanded, and bound the woman’s wrists.

Chapter Two

“Take care how you speak,” Alma whispered while they rode side by side. Their horses were led by the knight called Hugh, who kept a careful eye on the position of Elin’s feet. “’Twould not be good to tempt Malcolm le Farouche’s anger.”

“He is a villain.”

“He strikes with the authority of the king. We are at his mercy. Pray do not forget that the next time you speak to him.”

“If I speak. I want naught to do with that cowardly knave.” She could see him up ahead. He was touched by stardust now that the clouds above had parted. Though he shone with silver light, he was still more shadow than substance as he led the entourage, sword raised, an image of power and might.

“See? Again you speak without thought. I bid you to cease with the insults. Call him neither coward nor knave. You have yet to see the world as I have, little one. He has done naught but bind our wrists and your feet. Look how loosely Sir Hugh tied me. ’Tis far better than abuse and rape, so mind your tongue.”

Fine. But Elin’s anger grew. She was no chattel to be bound like a cow on butchering day. Or a weakling afraid to stand up to tyranny. Look how he rode, spine straight and those broad shoulders gleaming with dark light. Triumph and arrogant pride held him up, no doubt. No matter the cost, she refused to be at that knave’s mercy.

“Elin, what are you about?” Alma muttered, and drew the attention of the knight called Hugh, who kept peering with suspicious eyes over his shoulder, despite the restriction of his armor.

Surely Elin’s few kicks to his chest and shoulder had done no more than bruise him. How else was she to fight when she had no weapons—well, none she wanted to reveal?

“I am locating my dagger,” she whispered when Hugh turned forward to watch the road.

“Toward what end? Pray do not tell me you wish to wage war against six knights with one small blade?”

“I intend to cut our bindings, silly goose.” Elin shook her head. “I shall outwit those knights. They are far too sure of themselves.”

“As are you.”

Elin frowned at Alma’s wry comment. Didn’t she have every right to be furious? She was trussed up like livestock. And worse, she had deeper fears she would not confess to Alma. Whether true or not, her father was being taken to the king under the charge of treason. She had at first thought such accusations unlikely, but Father’s righteous fury changed her mind. An innocent man would not spout death threats and then offer bribes to anyone who could free him.

Was the dark knight correct? Would she face the same charges just by being in her father’s company? But what if le Farouche followed his own agenda in kidnapping them? If he’d concocted the accusations against her father, what future awaited her then?

Either way, escape seemed the best course.

As if sensing her intentions, Hugh turned to study her carefully. Grateful for the shadows of a grove they rode through, Elin froze. She tried to appear innocent until he faced forward again. Then she wiggled the knife tucked against her waist so that its hilt caught against the inside of her elbow. With a little concentration, she freed the blade from the small scabbard beneath her mantle.

So far so good. Now to retrieve it. She had to appear innocent every time Hugh turned to spy on her. That damnable knight was truly annoying.

Finally the blade slid down the length of her sleeved arm and into her palm. The sharp point nicked her flesh, but she didn’t even wince. Such victory! With the way that dark knight led his men, eyes straight ahead and nose to the sky, he would never know she and Alma had slipped away into the darkness.