wall is about to fall. We’ll hide in the Chase.” He began to drag her into the wood.
Judith fought to hold her ground. She clawed. She kicked. She bit. Her captor yelped, and snatched his hands away. She’d drawn blood. Revolted, she spat it out. She faced her captor and backed to where her dagger lay. Eyes on the young man, she caught it up. “Go and skulk in the forest, coward!” Her voice shook. “I go to help my mother!”
As Judith’s scornful words penetrated, the tanned face hardened. Green eyes dropped to her dagger and came back to look into her eyes. Judith frowned. She did not want to strike him…
He stepped towards her.
Judith brandished her dagger. She hesitated. It was a grave mistake. A swift hand flicked out, and clamped on her arm. The young man twisted lithely, and suddenly Judith was dangling over his shoulder like an unwieldy bundle of sticks. He made straight for the cover of the trees.
“Put-me-down!” Judith shrieked, legs flailing. The Chase seemed to be swinging up and down. It made her dizzy. She could not see straight. “Let-me-go! I-must-help-my-mother. Please, please, put-me-down!” The words jerked from her mouth in time with her abductor’s running steps. She was wasting air. Her captor did not even falter and she needed all of her breath, for it was being bounced from her with every step he took. Her hair swept the forest floor. A few strides, and her already loosened braids unravelled completely.
Judith clenched her fists and tried beating them against the young man’s leather-clad back, but it had no effect. She thought of her mother and let out a strangled moan.
Suddenly the jarring stopped. The young man bent his knees and Judith was tipped into a drift of red leaves.
She pushed herself to her knees, twitched a leaf from her face and watched him through the golden tangle of her hair.
“We’re far enough away. I don’t think they saw us. You’ll be safe now.” He was breathing heavily, but his voice was low and pleasant. He smiled.
Judith saw him wince. His hand rose briefly to touch his damaged cheek, and continued upwards to rake back his hair.
Judith was in no mood to respond to an easy smile. She glared at him from her ignominious perch among the leaves. “Who are you?” she demanded. “What gives you the right to carry me off like this? Did you not see what they did to my father? And my mother. I cannot desert her. What kind of a man are you to run off and leave a helpless woman to face those…those bastards?”
Her eyes ran over him, and a frown creased her brow. She could not make him out. He was no serf. No serf she knew ever possessed a fine leather over-tunic and trousers like his. His belt was a good one. It boasted a silver buckle, but it was not elaborate enough to mark him as noble. Her gaze dropped to his hands. They were fine-boned and unscarred by manual labour.
A sob rose in her throat, Judith held it down. A ghastly suspicion was taking root in her mind, and she knew she’d gone white. “Who are you?” she repeated. “And what are you doing in the Chase?” Her stomach twisted. She threw a harried look over her shoulder. Was he alone?
There was only one reason that she knew of for a stranger to be lurking in the Chase…
“My name is Rannulf. I was hunting.” He shrugged easily. “What else is a chase for?”
Again that persuasive smile. Judith mistrusted it. She had to find out. She’d never be able to help her mother if her supposition was correct. She sat back on her heels and decided to try a direct attack. “I’m told the slavers are back in the Chase,” she said, bluntly.
“Slavers?” The young man called Rannulf looked startled.
That had wiped the smile from his mouth. He had not been expecting that. Perhaps she might trust him…
“Aye, slavers,” she said. “Where have you been that you’ve not heard the warnings?” Again she watched for his reaction.
He looked utterly bewildered, utterly at a loss. He was no slaver.
“So,” Judith freed a trembling breath. “You claim you’re a hunter?”
Rannulf was frowning at the ground, muttering. “Slavers,” he mumbled, and nodded absently in answer to her question.
That explained the leather jerkin he wore, but not his presence in the Chase. “For whom do you hunt?” Judith demanded. “This wood belongs to the Baron de Mandeville. He was leading those brave warriors who just murdered a helpless old man.” She sobbed. “Do you hunt for him?”
Suspicions crowded back, curdling the food in Judith’s belly. She edged away from this man, Rannulf, feeling like a cornered hind facing the hounds. It appeared she had escaped one trap, only to find herself in another. She shot another look over her shoulder. If she could run very, very fast perhaps she could lose him in the dense undergrowth…
His green eyes were watching her. “I wouldn’t if I were you,” he recommended drily. “I know every inch of Mandeville Chase. I would soon catch you.” He dropped to his knees, and held out a hand palm uppermost, as though she were a wild beast that needed gentling.
Judith shrank back. “You did not answer,” she prompted.
“What?”
“Do you hunt with the Baron’s men?”
His lips curved, and Judith felt her stomach tighten. He had very white teeth.
“I?” He seemed to find that amusing. “Hunt with the Baron’s men? Never!” He fingered the red weal on his cheek. “I hunt for myself. Do not fear that I shall take you to him. He did ever like to break things, and I will not give you up to him. Did I not snatch you from under his nose? I did that to save you. Why should I deliver you to him now, having winded myself in getting you away?”
His hand remained outstretched towards her. Judith hesitated, wanting, but not daring, to trust him. She took refuge in scorn. “You think to reassure me by such words?”
“Aye.”
“Well you do not. If you are not in the pay of de Mandeville, you must be an outlaw.”
“Must I?” Rannulf smiled.
“Why else be hunting in the Chase? “Tis reserved for that nest of Norman vipers. Anyone else caught hunting here is hanged as a thief, and if you don’t mind taking that risk you must be desperate indeed. A man with a price on your head. What would an outlaw want with me?”
Rannulf’s lips curved. “What indeed?” he murmured, eyeing her. Then, seeing her worried look, he relented. “Don’t look so worried, I’ll not harm you. I give you my word.”
“The word of an outlaw is meant to reassure me?”
“I begin to think I have rescued a shrew,” he sighed. “Perhaps I should have left you to Hugo’s men. They’re hot blooded enough to knock some sense into you, though I doubt that you would benefit from the lesson.” Rannulf rose to his feet and swung away.
It seemed to have gone very dark in the wood. The trees loomed in on them, like twisted bars in a prison cell. Judith shivered. She did not want to be abandoned here.
She
