God be upon you, Nephew.’
‘My soul can never be at peace until I avenge my father,’ Zander replied, but he smiled and clasped his uncle’s hand. ‘I thank you for your help and now I must go, for I fear my lady is in great danger.’
He mounted his horse, signalled to the men his uncle had assigned to him, and set off at a canter from the moated manor house. It was a secure stronghold and his uncle was a powerful man who employed more than one hundred men-at-arms. The horses’ hooves clattered across the wooden bridge, eleven men in all—and every one a good fighting soldier.
Zander hoped that soon he would recover his strength. He had taken two measures of the cure brewed from the herbs Elaine had given him and was feeling a little less exhausted. The dizziness that had plagued him for weeks seemed to have gone. He smiled as he bent forwards over his horse. He would not faint and fall again and they must hurry—if they delayed, it might be too late.
Elaine’s heart caught with apprehension as they saw a band of men galloping down the road towards them. It looked a larger party this time and she feared that the Earl of Newark had sent more men to look for them. Here there were no woods to hide them and to flee back the way they had come would be useless.
‘If they wish to take me, you must allow it,’ she said to Janvier. ‘I do not wish you to sacrifice your life for me. The Earl’s men will not harm me; he needs me alive so that he can claim my lands without fear of reprimand or retribution.’
Janvier smiled as the horsemen came closer. ‘Fear not, lady. ’Tis but my lord and the men who serve him.’
‘Oh…’ For some reason Elaine’s heart beat even faster and her stomach twisted with nerves. There was something about the knight she could not place and yet instinctively she had trusted him. ‘I must thank God for his arrival.’
The party of some ten men or more came to a halt. The knight lifted his hand in greeting. ‘Well met, lady,’ he said. ‘Where are your companions?’
Was she wise to trust this unknown knight? She might be going from the heat of the cooking pot to the fire.
The knight dismounted and came to help her down. His men were also dismounting, to rest and eat, for they had ridden hard. He came to Elaine and held out his arms to assist her to dismount. She slid down into them and for a moment he held her. It was strange how comfortable and right it seemed, but she did not know this man and after a moment to catch her breath she moved away from him.
‘We must talk, lady,’ he said and took off his cloak, spreading it beneath the branches of a sturdy oak for her to sit. She declined and remained standing. ‘You should know that I mean you no harm and will help you in whatever way I can—but you must tell me where you go and who pursues you.’
‘I told your servant when he found me this morning,’ Elaine said. ‘A man who wishes to force me into marriage is pursuing me. He invaded my uncle’s castle and killed him, before sending my aunt penniless from her home. Marion and Bertrand drew the earl’s men off earlier this morning. Bertrand told me to hide in the woods—but then your servant came. The earl’s men must have split, because some came after us, but Janvier led me to safety. I am grateful for your service, sir, and would reward you.’ She took a deep breath, then, ‘I am Lady Elaine Howarth and my only hope is to reach my dower lands.’
‘Yes, it is much as I thought,’ the knight said. ‘Let us not speak of reward, lady. I am a true knight and it is my duty to protect any in need—particularly a lady of gentle birth.’
‘Then I can only thank you—and offer my help if ever I can assist you.’
‘Will you tell me the name of the rogue that plans such evil?’
‘He is the Earl of Newark and ruthless,’ she said, her eyes suddenly blazing with anger. ‘I will never marry him. I would rather die.’
‘Then he would merely take your lands for himself,’ the knight said and something made her look into his eyes. They were grey and as cold as ice, and his mouth had become thin and hard.
‘What do you know of him?’ she asked, her pulses racing. Her heart was thudding now and she was certain that she should know this man. Her instincts could not be wrong. She’d met this man before, though she knew not when or how. ‘Who are you, Sir Knight?’
‘Newark tricked and murdered my father,’ he said harshly. For a moment he turned away from her. His shoulders straightened and then he reached up to pull back the hood of chainmail, turning to face her. ‘Do you not know me, Elaine? I knew you at once, though you have hidden your hair and stained your face.’
She stared at him, her eyes drawn to the livid scar that ran the length of his face, from the corner of his left eye to his chin. It had puckered and the whole side of his face was red and inflamed. For a moment she did not recognise this man with black hair that was streaked with grey, but then, all at once, she knew. It was he, though the years and the hot sun of the Holy Land had wreaked havoc with his looks.
‘Zander…?’ She moved towards him hesitantly. He looked so different, sterner and older—much older than his years—and the scar was ugly, making her heart contract with pain. The beautiful youth who had declared his love before he left her had gone and in his place was a man she did not know. ‘Is it truly you?’
‘Yes, Elaine,’ he said. ‘It is I—older and battle-scarred, as you see—but I am Zander, lord of the lands my father bequeathed to me and I bear his name. I am Sir Zander de Bricasse and lord of Penbury.’
‘Oh, my love, you have been sorely hurt,’ Elaine said. Her instinct was to go to him and kiss him, but something held her back. He was Zander, the man she loved, and yet he was not the same. There was a distance about him, as if he had placed a barrier between them and she was not sure what to do. ‘I am so sorry…’
‘Save your tears for those who need them,’ he said in a harsh tone. ‘I do not wish for pity, Elaine. I should not have revealed myself had it not been that you must trust me if I am to deliver you safely to your home.’
‘Zander…’ Her lips trembled. ‘It was not pity, but love that made me speak thus. I have always loved you.’
‘You loved the man I was—not the man I am now,’ he said, voice gruff with emotion. ‘Give me no promises, lady. I do not ask them of you. I release you from the vow you made those many years gone.’
‘I do not wish to be released,’ Elaine said, but her voice was little more than a whisper, and in truth she was not sure what she felt. The scar was terrible and disfigured one half of his face, but she knew of unguents and cures that would help it, easing the pain and infection so that it would no longer be so inflamed. Nothing could make his beloved face as it had once been, but, if he would let her, she could ease the pain he must be feeling and heal the wound so the scar would not be so livid. It was not so much his appearance, but his manner, the distance between them, that made her hesitant. ‘If you wish me for your wife, I should be honoured, sir.’
A nerve twitched in his throat, his eyes narrowing as they dwelt on her face. ‘It is too soon to speak of these things, lady. For the moment I must see you safe to your home—and then I must avenge my father. I am not sure whether you knew that Newark was his enemy. My father slighted him once in some way, defied him and would not bend the knee to such an evil man. Newark never forgot or forgave him. He had him set upon by knaves and beaten to death, as if he were less than the lowest churl. I shall seek him out as soon as I am ready and avenge my father’s
