Chapter Three

      “You were rude to Sister Alys,” Darcy said when they were well away from the scene of the battle.

      “I have greater worries than hurting the feelings of a spoiled, prideful nun,” Gowain growled, his mind on the perilous journey to safety. They rode at the head of the swiftly moving column, with a rear guard as well as men afoot to sweep away traces of their passage. It had taken time and work, but his rebel band ran as smoothly as the king’s army in France.

      “She is uncommonly beautiful for a nun.”

      “I did not notice.” But he had. He could still recall the feel of her small, slender body against his. His nerves still tingled from the spark that had passed between them. One instant he’d been furious with her, the next, swept by desire. Jesu, he was truly a lost cause if he lusted after a nun. And one who might well be in league with Ranulf.

      And yet. She had the softest eyes he’d ever seen. Large, expressive blue eyes so dark they’d appeared black in the dim forest glade where she’d tended Stork, Sim and Martin.

      “We are fortunate she was there, else we’d have lost three good men,” Darcy said.

      Gowain grunted. She had spared him the terrible weight of Stork’s death, yet he didn’t want to be in her debt. In the brief few moments they’d been together, she’d made him feel things he didn’t want to feel. Especially for a nun.

      “Curious she is not wed.” When Gowain refused to be drawn in, Darcy went on. “Though she is one of the most comely women I’ve seen, she is not a tender young maid, I think. No girl would have such fire. How old would you judge her to be?”

      “Why, thinking of bedding her?” Gowain asked nastily.

      “Of course not I did but speculate.”

      “Cease prattling about her and speculate instead on whether what we took today is enough for our purpose.” Word that a trio of supply wagons moved along the road toward Eastham had prompted Gowain to risk a daylight raid. The guards and drivers had abandoned their cargo and fled into the woods without a fight.

      “We hadn’t the time to examine everything,” Darcy said. “But I saw sacks of beans and flour, which we sorely need, two kegs of ale and several of salted beef.” He patted his belly. “’Twill be good indeed to eat something besides root soup.”

      “Welcome as the food is, I’d rather we had taken Ranulf.” Gowain’s hand tightened on the reins. “Then we could stop living like hunted animals.”

      “Soon,” Darcy said gently. “This haul brings us that much closer to making our move against him.”

      “Aye.” But the knowledge that it would soon be over, one way or the other, brought little solace. Thus far, he and his men had fought defensively, to stay alive, to free those oppressed by Ranulf and to get food with which to feed them. The next step was a huge one. The taking of Malpas Keep itself. The battle required careful strategy and superb timing. “But even if all goes according to plan, we still may suffer heavy casualties.”

      “The men know that. They are prepared to sacrifice—”

      “Well, I am not,” Gowain exclaimed, thinking of Stork and the others, possibly bleeding to death in the wagon because a delay might cost more lives. “Jesu, do you think I want to buy back my estate with their blood?”

      “It is not just your lands we fight for,” Darcy reminded him. “It is our very lives. We could not last the winter without food and better shelter. Nor can we provide for the increasing numbers who flee from Ranulf’s tyranny. The people who’ve joined us are nearly more desperate than we are.” He paused a moment, considering Gowain’s unyielding posture.” “If only the king would grant your request for a hearing.”

      “King Richard has no time for dispossessed men such as we,” Gowain said bitterly. “He’s too busy granting grand titles to his favorites to even respond to my letter.” It had been sent by a priest a week after Gowain took to the woods. Father Bassett had assured him the letter was handed to the court functionary, yet no word had come from London.

      “Then we must look to ourselves and take back that which Ranulf has stolen from all of us,” Darcy said firmly.

      “Aye, we must.” And God save us all. “I will ride back along the line and see how the men fare,” Gowain said, as much because it was his way to check on things himself as because he was restless with the dozens of worries that beset him.

      The pair who rode directly behind him were seasoned veterans who’d followed him from France. Despite long hours in the saddle, Robert Lakely and Jean de Braise sat tall and alert, ready to spring into action at any sign of trouble. Seeing Gowain change direction, they moved to accompany him.

      “Keep your places,” Gowain said. “I’ll be right back.”

      “I’d go with you, just in case there is trouble,” said Jean, older than Lakely and prone to pessimism.

      “I’d have you here, for that reason,” Gowain replied and headed down the column. He nodded to the men he passed, noting keenly the condition of each. His soldiers had borne the brunt of both the attack on the wagons and the skirmish with Ranulf’s men, yet the farmers and tradesmen turned warrior looked the most haggard. A few sported red splotches on their rough tunics.

      Arthur Jenkins was by far the worst, bent over and wavering slightly in his saddle. “Not far, now, Arthur,” he called. “Can you make it, or would you ride in the wagon?”

      “Nay. I think my arm’s broke, and the wagon’d jostle it worse than my horse does,” he said through lips gone white.

      Gowain’s jaw tightened with suppressed fury…against Ranulf, King Richard and even God. These good people did not deserve the suffering that life had thrust upon them. Damn, but he wished he could find a way to take Malpas without their help.

      When he came abreast of the middle wagon driven by Henry Denys, Gowain turned to ride with it. “How goes it?”

      Henry shrugged and jerked his head toward the back of the wagon. “Better ask my brother. I’ve been that busy trying to avoid the worst of the ruts.”

      Ralph