Connie Mason (21 page)

She gave him a tearful smile. “I cannot give you that promise, Drake.”

“Bloody hell,” Drake rasped as he bent his head for a farewell kiss.

A brave knight defies death
.

Drake and Sir John found the Black Knight’s men with little difficulty. Over one hundred strong, his army was hidden in the forest near Chirk. Sir Richard hurried over to greet them as they dismounted.

“What news have you, Richard?” Drake asked.

“Lord Waldo and Lord Duff rode forth from Chirk two days ago. I was in the bailey when they left. They have combined their armies and lead nearly two hundred men.”

“God’s blood!” Drake cursed. “I had not expected them to have so great a force. What of war machines?”

“Aye, they have war machines and crossbows. What are your orders, my lord?”

“We may not have the numbers but we have surprise on our side,” Drake said. “Waldo does not expect a rear attack. The war machines will slow them down, allowing us to overtake them. John, mobilize the men; we ride immediately.”

An hour later Drake’s army rode in hot pursuit of Waldo and Duff. They rested briefly during the darkest hours of night and continued on at daybreak. Dusk was rolling over the land the following day when Drake rode to the top of a hill and spied Waldo’s forces camped in a valley beside a stream. He rode back to inform his men and to devise a battle plan with his knights.

Drake decided they should attack shortly before dawn, when the enemy was most vulnerable. The attack would come from several directions at once. The warriors were immediately informed of the plan and split up into three separate groups. Drake was to lead one group, Sir John a second,
and Sir Richard the third. The moment the other two men spied Drake leading his men down the hillside, they were to swoop down upon the sleeping camp from their positions. They parted then, each taking a third of the men and leaving Drake behind with the remaining third.

Drake inspected his weapons and armor, gave Evan last-minute instructions, and lay down on the ground to rest, rolling up in his cloak for warmth. Thoughts of Raven intruded upon his sleep. Leaving her had been difficult. No woman had ever captured his fancy like Raven of Chirk. Dimly he wondered if the day they had made love in the heather would be the last he would see of Raven. He could die in battle tomorrow. Would she miss him? Lord, he hoped so. If he died, would Waldo find her and punish her? The answer offered him no comfort.

He could not die, he told himself. He had to live for Raven’s sake. And for his own sake. He could not die before proving that there had been a legal marriage between his mother and father. If Granny could be believed, and she had no reason to lie, the vast estates and wealth Waldo claimed should belong to Drake; Waldo was the bastard. That thought was so comforting Drake managed to sleep a few hours before Evan awakened him.

It was time.

Drake donned his armor over a quilted gambeson and bent forward as Evan pulled a black tunic with a red dragon emblazoned on the front over his breastplate. Then he mounted Zeus. Gravely, Evan handed Drake his helm, shield, and weapons. Drake donned his helm and grasped his sword in one hand and his shield in the other. When shades of mauve streaked across the horizon, Drake raised his sword high and led his men down the hillside to the enemy’s camp.

Glancing right and left, Drake saw that Sir John and Sir Richard were attacking from their own positions. Then one of Waldo’s guards heard the clamor of approaching riders
and cried the warning. There was a mad scramble for weapons and armor as Drake’s men rode through the camp, hacking and slashing at will.

The battle was fiercely engaged. It registered in Drake’s mind that Waldo’s army was reported to outnumber his two to one, but he estimated their numbers at no more than one hundred. He saw naught of Duff and that worried him. But Drake had scant time to wonder about that now. Waldo’s men had quickly rallied, fighting off the initial attack and launching one of their own. Drake’s men fought valiantly for the Black Knight, their battle cries ringing over the valley.

Drake searched for Waldo amid the warriors fighting in the early morning dawn and spotted him crossing swords with Sir John. Both men were afoot, having abandoned their mounts to engage in hand-to-hand combat. Drake fought his way to Sir John’s side. If anyone was going to dispatch Waldo, it should be the Black Knight. He dismounted and shoved Sir John aside.

“I will take it from here, John,” he rasped.

“I will protect your back,” John replied, stepping behind Drake with his sword raised in defense of his liege lord.

Waldo deftly evaded Drake’s slashing sword, and the battle was engaged. All around them the fighting continued. Men were slain. Blood flowed freely. The sound of clashing weapons was deafening.

“Where did you come from? Where is my wife?” Waldo said, panting as he hacked viciously at Drake.

“Where you will never find her,” Drake answered, deflecting Waldo’s sword with his shield.

“You raped her and kidnapped her,” Waldo charged.

“Do you think so?”

“Bastard! You have more lives than a cat. You should have died years ago.”

Thrust and parry. Slash and hack. Small wounds resulted when vulnerable places in their armor were breached.

“Your past efforts to do away with me did not succeed,” Drake rasped. “ ’Tis time for retribution.”

“Did you enjoy my wife?” Waldo taunted. “Ironic, is it not, that the son of a, whore made a whore of the wife of our father’s legitimate son? Raven will suffer when I find her.”

Both men were tiring, weighted down by their heavy armor and weapons. Advancing mercilessly, Drake had maneuvered Waldo into the stream, and he could smell victory. Then disaster struck. One hundred reinforcements poured onto the battlefield. Drake no longer had to wonder about Duff, for he rode at the head of his army, his warriors turning the tide of battle in Waldo’s favor. Drake cursed himself for a fool. He should have known Waldo would split his army to reduce the chances of a surprise attack from whatever enemy they might encounter along the way. And the precaution had paid off. Drake’s men, brave though they might be, were being driven back by the combined forces of Waldo and Duff.

“Save yourself, John,” Drake called as he drove Waldo into the water. “Flee to the woods with the men.”

“Nay. I will not leave you,” John replied as he deftly dispatched a warrior coming to Waldo’s defense.

Suddenly Drake dove beneath Waldo’s defense and slipped his sword into the unprotected place where his helm and breastplate met. He would have driven the sword home had not John called out a warning. From the corner of his eye Drake saw six mounted warriors, swords drawn and at the ready, riding straight for him. They formed a tight circle around Drake and John, looking to Waldo for orders.

“All is lost, Sir Bastard,” Waldo taunted. “Throw down your sword or you both die.”

“We will die whether or not we drop our weapons,” Drake returned. “I can kill you easily; just one thrust will end your miserable life.”

“Do it, Drake,” John urged.

“If you do not wish to save your own life, think about your faithful friend,” Waldo said. “Surrender and Sir John shall go free.”

“Nay, kill the bastard,” John cried. “Think not of me.”

Drake could not do it. It was one thing to kill Waldo, but he did not want John’s death on his conscience. Slowly he removed his sword point from Waldo’s neck.

Waldo strode from the water, grasped Drake’s weapon, and flung it to the ground. “You are mine, Sir Bastard.”

“Kill me now and be done with it,” Drake goaded him.

“In good time, Sir Bastard. I need you alive, at least until Raven is back where she belongs.”

“You will never find Raven.”

Waldo sent Drake a look that said otherwise. “Mayhap not, but I wager Sir John knows where to find her.”

“Even if I did, I would not tell you,” John said with a sneer.

“No need,” Waldo said.

Drake frowned. Waldo’s complacency worried him. He knew his brother had something fiendish in mind for him and Raven, and a shiver of apprehension slid down his spine. “Hurt Raven and you will regret it,” he said with a snarl.

“My plans for Raven are none of your concern, Sir Bastard. As for yourself, mayhap you will find Chirk’s dungeon to your liking.” He turned to Sir John. “And you, Sir John, will carry a message to my wife.”

Drake went very, very still. “Damn you! It will not work, Waldo. Raven will not fly to my defense because you order her to. She knows better.”

Waldo smiled. “We shall see,
brother
.” He returned his attention to John. “You are to tell my
wife
that she should present herself at Chirk within a fortnight if she wishes her lover to live. Should she fail to heed my warning, Drake will die in the most horrible way imaginable.”

“Do not do it, John,” Drake pleaded. “I will not live no
matter what Raven does. I have known for a long time that Waldo wants me dead.”

“You will not be followed, Sir John, if that is what you fear,” Waldo continued. “But I expect you to return with Raven within a fortnight, else your friend’s life is forfeit. No one will condemn me for slaying the man who stole my wife on our wedding night.”

“How do I know you will not kill him ere I leave?” John charged.

“You have my word as a knight,” Waldo said. “I swear the Black Knight will not die unless you return without Raven. But heed me well: he will be kept alive a fortnight, no longer.”

John sent Drake a pleading look, as if begging for his understanding. “I am sorry, Drake, but ’tis Raven’s choice to make. Only she can decide whether to obey Waldo and return to Chirk or . . . or . . .”

“Or to sacrifice Drake’s life for her freedom,” Waldo interjected. He laughed. “I think I know Raven. She is too tender-hearted for her own good. She will return to Chirk,” he said with certainty.

Drake thought so, too, and despaired. The thought of Raven subjected to Waldo’s cruelty made his skin crawl. Yet he knew with grim certainty that Raven would risk her own life to save his. Unfortunately her capitulation to Waldo’s demands would not save him. His life would end the moment Raven returned to Chirk. And if he was not killed as he expected, his heart would surely stop, knowing that Raven was at Waldo’s mercy, abused both mentally and physically by her husband’s sick nature.

Drake said naught as Sir John mounted his destrier and rode off. The knight glanced back several times to make sure no one was following. Then he gave Drake a farewell salute and kneed his mount into a full gallop.

“Disarm my brother,” Waldo ordered when John had
disappeared over a hill. Two warriors hurried to comply, quickly divesting Drake of his armor and weapons.

Standing before Waldo in hose, gambeson, and tunic, Drake glared menacingly at his brother. When Waldo blanched and took a backward step, Drake summoned a smile depite his dire circumstances.

“You do well to fear me, brother,” he said in a hiss. “You cannot keep me in your puny dungeon.”

“We shall see how brave you are after you have walked the distance to Chirk behind my horse,” Waldo said with a sneer. “Bind the bastard’s hands,” Waldo ordered, “and give me the rope. I will set the pace and we shall see if the courageous Black Knight can keep up.”

His men complied with alacrity. Then Waldo mounted his destrier and held out his hand for the long tether. He dug his heels into his destrier’s flanks and Drake was jerked forward. He stumbled, righted himself, then concentrated on placing one foot before the other. The pace was brutal, the terrain rough. His face set in hard lines, Waldo ignored his brother’s pain. He did not even slacken the pace when Drake stumbled over a rock and was dragged several yards before regaining his feet.

The grueling ordeal drained Drake’s mind of everything but the struggle for survival. He had to live. For Raven’s sake he must not let Waldo defeat him. He had always considered himself invincible. Knights who lived by war and combat held the belief that they were indestructible, and he was no different.

He tried to concentrate on the dungeon instead of on his pain, recalling that he had explored those dark regions as a child. But as he stumbled along behind Waldo’s horse, his thoughts turned to Raven. He saw her sweet face in front of him. He remembered her naked in his arms, her long chestnut curls twisted around him as she writhed beneath him,
her face flushed with passion. Every image he had of her evoked a memory to treasure.

A memory to love.

Though Drake was tiring, he steadfastly refused to succumb to misery and exhaustion. Somewhere he found the strength to keep his legs moving.

Raven sat on a stone fence, staring into the distance, her heart sorely troubled. Drake been gone a sennight and might have already engaged Waldo in battle. She did not doubt Drake’s courage, or question his battle skills, for she knew Drake’s experience would stand him in good stead. What truly concerned her were the unfavorable odds. She was dishearteningly aware that Duff would join his own men with Waldo’s, creating an army twice the size of Drake’s. Not even Drake’s enormous courage could overcome his lack of manpower.