Lion Heart
Page 18
They laughed again. “How much do you think it will be?”
“A chest for each of us, at least. Nothing but fancy dresses and servants and—”
“As long as it buys us warm socks and a hot fire, I’ll be right grateful,” she said, and I heard them splashing in the water. “Awful cold still.”
“You’re a simple woman. I’ve always liked that about you.”
The first made a grunting noise. “As long as those men don’t get strung up—then we’ll be in a bit of a fix for those warm fires, won’t we?”
“They won’t. They’ll all look out for one another; they always do.”
Another grunt.
“Besides, it ain’t as if the queen is all that heavily guarded.”
My limbs were stiff with cold. My feet weren’t sure on the wet rocks. There were bare enough light in the sky to see by. But I didn’t wait a breath before running for the inn.
David, Allan, and I were armed to the teeth and on our horses in moments, and my horse tore ahead in a fast gallop with David behind me and Allan behind him, racing down the road from Bristol to Bridgewater Castle, where Eleanor might have been.
There were a spot that were perfect for it. There had been a portion of the road that went through a thick forest with grand trees, and I’d even had the stupid thought that it reminded me of our ambush spots in Nottingham.
We broke into the dark of the forest and were blind for a moment, but I didn’t slow down. I heard the clash of weapons up ahead, and my heart seized as I knew, sudden and sure, that there were at least one more thing than Rob that I could lose, and she were an old white-haired lady that I never wanted to love.
I saw the knights in full fight, and a man in plain clothing reaching into the carriage and obviously scrabbling with something. More than half of him were outside the carriage, and without thinking much, I leapt off my horse and slammed into him, gripping his waist to tear him from the carriage.
It were enough, and my weight pulled his off and we fell, landing hard in the dirt, side by side. He groaned and started to get off me, and another man grabbed me up from the ground.
I stabbed him in the gut before he could do the same to me, and he let me go. The man in the dirt were starting to rise and I kicked his head. He went still, and a flashing arc of a sword came down on me. I hit it away with my knife, but the man cuffed my head with his free hand, swinging the sword round again.
Cutting a quick stripe on his hand made him drop the sword, and I stepped on his foot and slammed my elbow to his head. He dropped, and I took a deep stride to get back to the carriage, and whatever new assailant were there.
A man were trying to pull Eleanor out of the carriage, and she were hitting him with her stick but didn’t have enough space to get a good swing off. He backhanded her, and she made a soft cry, a weak hurt noise.
I’d never heard Eleanor make any kind of sound like that.
I should have thought of those women I heard talking. Wives. Family. Children.
But I didn’t. I jumped forward, hooking my arm round his shoulders, and I slit his throat. He fell back quick, spraying me with blood.
Eleanor met my eyes, and hers were wide and bluer than ever. She nodded once, and I shut the door.
“Margaret,” she told me, pointing to the open door on the other side of the carriage.
I growled out a curse. I hopped up on the chests in the back and looked out.
There were blue cloth in the woods, and I followed the flash of bright. Margaret were fighting hard, but her small hands weren’t doing much as the man covered her mouth and tried his best to uncover the rest of her. Her gown were torn and she were sobbing under his hand.
She were making enough noise to cover my approach, and I came fast as I could without him turning. I kicked my boot up between his legs and he howled, dropping her. She screamed and pulled away from him, and he grabbed her arm.
“Don’t you touch her!” I screamed at him, fisting my half hand as best I could and slamming it into his face.
The pain of the punch rushed up my arm. It were the good kind of pain, the simple kind that made sense.
I hit him again.
You can’t quite take a punch, Scar, John told me once.
I hit him again.
You’re no good for punching, Rob told me.
What they never said were that they were the ones meant to be punching.
They were meant to be beside me, punching while I planned, strong-arming while I cut.
A team. A band. Complete.
Arms came round me, but they weren’t my bandmates. They were from Lady Margaret, and she were a sobbing, shaking little thing, and I couldn’t lift my hand.
I looked down. The man were breathing—just, but it were there, in the bubbles of blood round his mouth.
Sagging against a tree, I hugged her tight.
We didn’t go on to Bristol. We went to Glastonbury, one of the oldest abbeys in England. Maybe the world; it were the oldest place I’d ever heard of. The whole party were rushed into the big stone walls fast, and I abandoned my horse to stay with Eleanor in the carriage. Margaret were sniffling and couldn’t much stop shaking, and Lady Norfolk were trembling but grim-faced as ever. Margaret had let go of most of me, but she still clutched my hand like it were a holy relic.
I’d gotten blood on her. My hand were still bleeding, dripping into the carriage, and God only knew where else I were bleeding from. I watched my fist drip. It were easier than seeing a splinter of fear in Eleanor’s blue eyes. It were easier than seeing this girl treat me like a savior.
“A chest for each of us, at least. Nothing but fancy dresses and servants and—”
“As long as it buys us warm socks and a hot fire, I’ll be right grateful,” she said, and I heard them splashing in the water. “Awful cold still.”
“You’re a simple woman. I’ve always liked that about you.”
The first made a grunting noise. “As long as those men don’t get strung up—then we’ll be in a bit of a fix for those warm fires, won’t we?”
“They won’t. They’ll all look out for one another; they always do.”
Another grunt.
“Besides, it ain’t as if the queen is all that heavily guarded.”
My limbs were stiff with cold. My feet weren’t sure on the wet rocks. There were bare enough light in the sky to see by. But I didn’t wait a breath before running for the inn.
David, Allan, and I were armed to the teeth and on our horses in moments, and my horse tore ahead in a fast gallop with David behind me and Allan behind him, racing down the road from Bristol to Bridgewater Castle, where Eleanor might have been.
There were a spot that were perfect for it. There had been a portion of the road that went through a thick forest with grand trees, and I’d even had the stupid thought that it reminded me of our ambush spots in Nottingham.
We broke into the dark of the forest and were blind for a moment, but I didn’t slow down. I heard the clash of weapons up ahead, and my heart seized as I knew, sudden and sure, that there were at least one more thing than Rob that I could lose, and she were an old white-haired lady that I never wanted to love.
I saw the knights in full fight, and a man in plain clothing reaching into the carriage and obviously scrabbling with something. More than half of him were outside the carriage, and without thinking much, I leapt off my horse and slammed into him, gripping his waist to tear him from the carriage.
It were enough, and my weight pulled his off and we fell, landing hard in the dirt, side by side. He groaned and started to get off me, and another man grabbed me up from the ground.
I stabbed him in the gut before he could do the same to me, and he let me go. The man in the dirt were starting to rise and I kicked his head. He went still, and a flashing arc of a sword came down on me. I hit it away with my knife, but the man cuffed my head with his free hand, swinging the sword round again.
Cutting a quick stripe on his hand made him drop the sword, and I stepped on his foot and slammed my elbow to his head. He dropped, and I took a deep stride to get back to the carriage, and whatever new assailant were there.
A man were trying to pull Eleanor out of the carriage, and she were hitting him with her stick but didn’t have enough space to get a good swing off. He backhanded her, and she made a soft cry, a weak hurt noise.
I’d never heard Eleanor make any kind of sound like that.
I should have thought of those women I heard talking. Wives. Family. Children.
But I didn’t. I jumped forward, hooking my arm round his shoulders, and I slit his throat. He fell back quick, spraying me with blood.
Eleanor met my eyes, and hers were wide and bluer than ever. She nodded once, and I shut the door.
“Margaret,” she told me, pointing to the open door on the other side of the carriage.
I growled out a curse. I hopped up on the chests in the back and looked out.
There were blue cloth in the woods, and I followed the flash of bright. Margaret were fighting hard, but her small hands weren’t doing much as the man covered her mouth and tried his best to uncover the rest of her. Her gown were torn and she were sobbing under his hand.
She were making enough noise to cover my approach, and I came fast as I could without him turning. I kicked my boot up between his legs and he howled, dropping her. She screamed and pulled away from him, and he grabbed her arm.
“Don’t you touch her!” I screamed at him, fisting my half hand as best I could and slamming it into his face.
The pain of the punch rushed up my arm. It were the good kind of pain, the simple kind that made sense.
I hit him again.
You can’t quite take a punch, Scar, John told me once.
I hit him again.
You’re no good for punching, Rob told me.
What they never said were that they were the ones meant to be punching.
They were meant to be beside me, punching while I planned, strong-arming while I cut.
A team. A band. Complete.
Arms came round me, but they weren’t my bandmates. They were from Lady Margaret, and she were a sobbing, shaking little thing, and I couldn’t lift my hand.
I looked down. The man were breathing—just, but it were there, in the bubbles of blood round his mouth.
Sagging against a tree, I hugged her tight.
We didn’t go on to Bristol. We went to Glastonbury, one of the oldest abbeys in England. Maybe the world; it were the oldest place I’d ever heard of. The whole party were rushed into the big stone walls fast, and I abandoned my horse to stay with Eleanor in the carriage. Margaret were sniffling and couldn’t much stop shaking, and Lady Norfolk were trembling but grim-faced as ever. Margaret had let go of most of me, but she still clutched my hand like it were a holy relic.
I’d gotten blood on her. My hand were still bleeding, dripping into the carriage, and God only knew where else I were bleeding from. I watched my fist drip. It were easier than seeing a splinter of fear in Eleanor’s blue eyes. It were easier than seeing this girl treat me like a savior.
