Connie Mason (38 page)

“Your valuables,” a barrel-necked thief ordered.

Waldo was loath to part with the sack of gold he carried on his person. The coins were meant to last him a long time. “I have naught of value.”

Apparently the thieves did not believe him, for he was forced to his feet and searched.

“ ’Tis just as I thought,” the second thief groused when he found the heavy sack.

“How much?” a third thief asked, crowding close.

The second thief opened the drawstring and emptied the contents into his hand. There were so many coins they over-flowed his palm. “Enough to split four ways,” he crowed gleefully. He shoved the pouch into his belt and sent a furtive glance over his shoulder. “ ’Tis best we leave.”

“What about
him?
” Barrel-neck asked.

“Kill him or leave him; it matters not.”

Barrel-neck removed his blade from Waldo’s throat and started to rise. Determined to retrieve his money despite the consequences, Waldo tugged his dagger from his belt and slashed upward, opening a fatal wound on Barrel-neck’s throat. The man made a gurgling sound and died instantly. Waldo pulled his sword free and attacked the remaining two thieves, who were armed with only crude daggers.

Unfortunately Waldo had not listened carefully enough to the thieves when they talked of dividing the gold four ways.
Thus far only three men had shown themselves. But as Waldo charged the surviving two men, the fourth thief, unseen before now, crept up behind Waldo and plunged a blade into his back. Then all three thieves melted into the forest, leaving Waldo barely alive, his blood spilling onto the ground.

Dusk was moments away. Drake and his men had ridden hard all day. As the hours passed, Drake’s hopes for finding Raven alive plummeted. What if he were wrong and Waldo had ridden north? The thought persisted that Waldo had already slain Raven, and his heart bled. How could he live the rest of his life without Raven? He would never know what his child looked like. Whether it was a son or daughter.
God’s blood!
When he caught Waldo, and he would, he would slit the bastard from gullet to groin once he had the information he sought.

“My lord, Exeter lies just beyond the forest,” Sir Richard said. “I have been here before. There is a path leading through the forest to the city.”

“Find the path, Richard,” Drake said with grim determination. “If Waldo is in Exeter, we will find him. He cannot be far ahead of us, nor would he have had time to find passage to France.”

Scant light remained as Sir Richard led the group through the forest. Fear rode Drake. What if Waldo had ridden north to York, or gone to Scotland, or some other unlikely place?

Suddenly a horse appeared in the path and Drake sawed on the reins. Zeus reared once, pawing the air, then settled down. Drake leaped from the saddle and grasped the destrier’s trailing reins. He recognized Waldo’s mount instantly. It was the one he had ridden forth from Windhurst.

Drake stumbled over Waldo before he saw him. He was lying facedown in a pool of blood. Drake turned him over and spit out a curse. “God’s blood!”

Sir John came up beside him. “Who is it?”

“Waldo.”

“Is he dead?”

Drake knelt and placed an ear to Waldo’s heart. “He breathes, but barely.”

Waldo groaned and opened his eyes. All Drake’s attention was focused on the dying man, willing him to breathe. “Waldo, can you hear me?”

Silence.

“Waldo! Damn you! Answer me. Where is Raven? What have you done with her?”

Waldo made an attempt to speak. His voice was barely above a whisper. “Drake? How . . . did you know . . . where to find me?”

“A hunch. What happened?”

“Thieves. I killed one.” A long time passed before he said, “Am I dying?”

Drake’s voice held no pity. “Aye.” He grasped Waldo’s tunic and pulled up his head. “Where is Raven? Do you wish to die with a woman’s death on your conscience? Raven carries my child.”

A parody of a smile twisted Waldo’s bloodless lips. “You will never find her.”

“Is she dead?”

“Nay . . . not yet . . .” He coughed, staining his lips with blood and spittle.

“Damn you! Where is she?”

Drake heard the death rattle in Waldo’s throat and pressed harder for answers. “Clear your conscience, Waldo. Tell me where to find Raven.”

Waldo said but one word before death claimed him. “Water.”

“Bastard!” Drake shouted as Waldo drew his last breath. “May you burn in hell for all eternity!”

“He asked for water,” Sir John said.

Drake stared into Waldo’s sightless eyes and wished him alive so he could kill him himself.
Water
. With his dying breath the bastard had asked for water.

He rose abruptly. “Sir John, tie Waldo’s body to his destrier’s back. We will take him with us to Windhurst.”

“There is another dead man, Drake. What should I do with him?”

“Leave him for the scavengers.”

A knight is a sworn enemy of all evil
.

Duff ran out to meet Drake when he rode into the inner bailey. He saw the horse with a body draped over it and skidded to a halt.

“Is that Waldo?”

Nodding absently, Drake dismounted. He had more important things on his mind than a dead man.

“Is he dead?”

“Aye.”

“Did you kill him?”

“I wish to God it had been me. Thieves got to him first. It happened in the forest outside Exeter.”

“Exeter! I thought you were riding north.”

“We did ride north, for a time. Something, a premonition mayhap, told me ’twas the wrong direction. It suddenly made sense that Waldo would try to leave England.”

“God’s blood, Drake! Did Waldo tell you where to find Raven before he died?”

Drake’s fists clenched at his sides, his anger palpable. “I will tell you what I know as soon as I quench my thirst. I am parched.” Though Drake could not speak of it aloud, his greatest fear was that Waldo had raped Raven and left her somewhere to die.

They entered the keep together and took seats at the high table, where Lady Willa awaited them. The midday meal was in progress, and someone placed a tankard of ale and a trencher of meat and cheese before him. He ate and drank, heedless of what he put into his mouth as long as it filled his belly and quenched his thirst.

“Did Waldo tell you naught?” Duff exclaimed. “Is Raven dead?”

“I know not. Ere Waldo died he said but one word. He asked for water. I begged him to tell me what he had done with Raven and all he said was water.” He pounded his fist on the table. “Waldo must be laughing all the way to hell. He has finally succeeded in destroying me.”

Duff’s brows furrowed as he pondered Drake’s words. “Something is awry, Drake. I know Waldo, and he would not ask for water. Ale, mayhap, but never water. To my knowledge, Waldo never touched water.”

Drake stared at Duff. It was not unusual for a dying man to ask for water, though at the time he’d thought it an odd request, coming from Waldo. But anger and grief had held sway over him. Now that Duff had spoken, however, his mind began functioning again. If Waldo wasn’t asking for water then . . . His mind raced. His heart thudded. Windhurst was built on a cliff overlooking the sea. There was water nearby. Lots of it.

“Waldo could not have taken Raven very far,” Drake observed, growing excited. Why had he not thought of it before?

Abruptly another thought occurred, a thought so disturbing he could not put it into words. As if reading his mind, Duff spoke the words for him.

“Do you suppose Waldo threw Raven into the sea?”

Drake closed his eyes against the pain Duff’s statement conjured. Then he remembered Waldo’s words. A shudder of relief speared through him.

“Nay. Raven lives. We will find her near water.”

Sir John, who had joined them at the high table, heard the conversation and leaped to his feet. “ ’Tis high tide now, but as soon as the tide ebbs, every man in the garrison will be on the beach below the cliffs. Fear not, my lord; we will find your lady.”

“See that each man has a horn,” Drake directed. “The man who finds her is to give two blasts upon the horn.”

“Aye,” Sir John said, hurrying off.

“I pray you find Lady Raven well,” Lady Willa said. “We were at odds with each other at first, but my marriage to Duff changed all that. I was hoping we could make peace and become friends. Eyre is not so far from Chirk that we cannot visit often.”

“We will find her, Lady Willa,” Drake said, grimly determined. What he could not promise was the condition in which he would find her. There was no telling what Waldo had done to her.

Raven stirred and groaned. By her reckoning she had passed two nights in the cave. She was thirsty and hungry. The hunger she could manage, but the thirst was nearly unbearable. She had tried to lick moisture from the walls of the cave but the foul taste gagged her. Presently it was neither thirst nor hunger that plagued her. Her limbs were numb and the pain was fierce, and she was cold.

Throughout the empty hours, Raven’s thoughts had returned time and again to Drake. His image danced before her eyes, strong, powerful, his honed warrior’s body invincible. His loving left her aching for more, always more, and he had never disappointed her. She loved him so much it hurt. He was arrogant and demanding and unpredictable at times, but those qualities were part of what made him so appealing. Even now, with pain, hunger, and thirst plaguing her, she was able to close her eyes and recall the strength in his arms. And his face. No man should be as handsome as the Black Knight.

Her thoughts fractured when she noticed daylight streaming through the mouth of the cave. Another new day without hope of rescue, she thought despondently.

During the previous night and day Raven had given her
dire circumstances much thought. If she did not want this cave to become her tomb, she had to get outside.

Using the wall behind her to steady herself, she pushed herself to her feet, inch by painful inch, until she was standing on her bound feet. Pain shot up her legs and she nearly collapsed, but her iron will refused to let her fall. When the pain subsided to a bearable level, she shoved herself away from the wall and hopped to the mouth of the cave. The light blinded her. She blinked twice, then stared down at the churning sea below her.

The tide was in, and the narrow strip of beach had disappeared. Raven lowered herself to the ground, watching the water lap at the rocks below, wondering how she was going to negotiate the steep incline without full use of her arms and legs. Until the tide ebbed, attempting such a feat was not to be undertaken.

Raven glanced upward, her despair tangible when she realized she would not be visible to anyone standing at the top the cliff looking down. There was no other solution. She had to reach the beach. Fear rode her. Hindered by her bound limbs, she was in danger of falling and hurting the babe she carried. What a dilemma.

A jagged edge of rock embedded in the cliff face jabbed into Raven’s bottom, and she shifted to find a more comfortable position. Unfortunately, the cliff’s face offered no comfortable spot; the entire cliff was studded with sharp-edged rocks. She sighed and stared at the pounding waves, wondering when the tide would turn and what she would do when it did.

She moved her legs to ease the pain and a sharp rock punctured her flesh. Thoughtfully, she stared at the wound, then turned her gaze to the rock with a keen sense of purpose. Had her mind not been befuddled from lack of food and water, the answer to her dilemma would have occurred to her sooner. A rock sharp enough to pierce her flesh
would surely cut through silken cords. Driven by desperation, Raven searched for a sharp rock nearby, found one, and scooted over to it, wincing when sharp stones dug into her tender bottom.

Excitement thrummed through her as she backed up to the rock and lifted her wrists to the sharp edge. Her first attempt to saw through the silken ropes was unsuccessful. Her cloak kept getting in the way. Though it pained her to do so because it was so very cold, she struggled out of the garment and pushed it aside with her feet. It rolled down the slope, fell into the water, and flowed out to sea on the receding tide. Paying it little heed, she began the painstaking process of sawing through the cords binding her wrists.

Hours passed, or so it seemed, before Raven felt a slight loosening. Heartened, she renewed her efforts. The tide ebbed and the sliver of beach reappeared. The sky clouded over and a cold mist settled over the cliffs, chilling Raven to the bone. Then, miraculously, her bonds snapped and her arms were free. The pain that followed was so sharp and debilitating, Raven nearly passed out. Tears rolled down her cheeks when she tried to undo the knots binding her ankles. Her hands were as useless as two chunks of meat, and her fingers simply refused to work.

Determination furrowed her brow as she pushed herself to her feet and stared down at the windswept strip of sand below. Grimly she realized that reaching the beach without mishap would take a small miracle. Dragging in a steadying breath, Raven hopped, and hopped again. Each time she gained a little more ground. Though it was not a lengthy distance, the incline was steep and packed with obstacles. For Raven, with limited use of her hands and feet, the descent was perilous indeed.