Treasure So Rare (Women of Strength Time Travel Trilogy) (23 page)

Ulrich turned to her. "I believe the little one to be
fine for the moment, my lady Iliana."

"Why take William? I have no treasure. I do not have
the emerald."

"He knows you are the only one who can find it. So he
waits."

"Tell me where he is, Ulrich," Erik demanded.
"I will take my chances."

"Nay, pretender. He commands forces of which you cannot
imagine. I had been commanded to go on, and it is as well you rode back."
He looked back the way he had come, and they could see a dark haze hovering at
the top of the hill. "I will go back. If there is a way to open the path
for you to journey inward, I will do so."

Iliana paced back and forth. "I cannot stay here and do
naught to save my son."

"My lady Iliana, it is your only choice." Ulrich
turned his mount. "I must return."

"Ulrich," she called, her voice breaking,
"please take care of my son."

Iliana watched Ulrich ride deep into the hills until she
could see him no more.

Erik pulled her close. "Iliana, are there any dwellings
nearby? We should seek shelter. The night will grow bitter before long."

Iliana stared at him, blinked, trying to understand what he
said. "There is a monastery an hour's ride back the way we came," she
said. "Saint Paul's." Abruptly, she said, "And perhaps it is
time we visited."

"What is the significance of the monastery?" he
asked.

"The monastery is where she sleeps," she said.

Erik's brow went up. "Who?"

"Her ladyship, Graziela." Her voice faltered and
then firmed. "She is the real mistress of Dutton Keep."

¤¤

Erik grabbed Iliana as she swayed with exhaustion.

Iliana gripped his arms. "It is her memories I hold,
her role I presume to fill at the keep. I merely fill her place until she
returns."

"Aren't you her sister? How can she be the
mistress?" Erik asked.

"Because I am not. As my mind went around and around, I
recalled bits of conversation, memories that fell into place and can have no
other meaning -- Graziela is the reason I was brought to this time."

Erik looked at her. "You do not belong here?"

She shook her head. "I -- I am not certain." She
tried to concentrate. "We must ride to the monastery." Excited, her
eyes began to take on new life from her earlier fatigue. "Perhaps they
will give us guidance. Come, Erik I will show you the way."

¤¤

Ulrich saw the child in the corner, sitting on a dirty pallet
and now the child's green eyes watched him.

William sat in the middle of the pallet, the last light of
the day upon him, his face dirty and streaked, as if he'd cried untold tears of
frustration and yea, perhaps hunger, too. Ulrich frowned and turned from the
sight. What use was he? If he couldn't even save himself from the likes of
Mandrak, how could he possibly be of use to a child? He needed to make his own
escape, but at this moment he saw no course without being hunted down and
gutted by the fighter dragons. Nasty bits, that, gouging a man's eyes, tearing
into his nether regions. As strong and as fast as he knew himself to be as a
fighter, he knew he was no match for one fighter dragon, much less two. And two
sat in the doorway as he entered, one on either side of the opening. Mandrak
sat on an ancient chair, studying an enormous tome upon the table before him.

Ulrich had never learned to read, and why should an orphan
boy even wish to? He had a bad feeling it was an evil book, else why would the
sorcerer study it so intently?

As he had ridden in, Ulrich had seen the men who lay dead
outside, just at the edge of the woods, their sightless eyes staring up at the
heavens. The flesh-eater birds had already begun to circle in the sky. Ulrich
had seen no mark upon them, but he had only looked in passing, the look of
terror on one man’s face enough to keep him from getting too close. It was
apparent the man's use had come to an end.

At that moment the child began to wail, "Da, da, da,
da, da." The wail became an unending screech.

Mandrak looked up. "Shut him up," he snarled.
"Shut him up or I will do it myself." He stood as the baby's wails
became louder and louder. Ulrich thought the wee lad was probably hungry and no
doubt missed his mother sorely.

Mandrak pulled a knife from beneath his robes, and with eyes
hard and intent, he approached the baby.

Ulrich reached deep inside a small pouch which hung at his
waist, and stepped between the maniacal sorcerer and the child. He held the
carved horse out to the boy. Distracted for the moment, the child abruptly
stopped his crying, took the horse in his grimy fingers, and pulled it close to
his chest. He stared up at him with tears clinging to his lashes, his face
through the dirt hardly recognizable as the child of Iliana.

Ulrich lifted him gingerly with one big fist by the back of
his long tunic. "I will take him and find milk for he is no doubt hungry.
That should shut him up." Impassively, Ulrich met Mandrak's stare.
"If that is your wish, my lord sorcerer."

Mandrak waved his hand. "If it will shut the brat up,
then do so. Maybe I should have stashed him in a hole instead of dragging him
here."

Ulrich shrugged, tense as a bow string. "I wager with
nothing in hand to bargain with when the gem is found --" he let his voice
trail off.

"Yes, what incentive is there for Iliana to bring me
the gem if her child is already dead -- a valid point. But find a way to
silence his bawling or damn the consequences."

Ulrich looked at the lad's sopping wet bottom and then into
his tear-washed face. "No more of that noise for it bothers my ears,"
he muttered, and the child smiled at him, reaching up a pudgy hand toward his
beard. "Nay," Ulrich muttered, gently swatting the hand away.

He took the wee one outside. There had to be someone
hereabouts that would feed the child. The villagers who had not fled still
supplied Mandrak with food.

Ulrich walked toward the small row of thatched dwellings.
Suddenly, he saw Camdork sitting in the dirt outside one of the dwellings. He did
not look up at him but merely stared off into the distance. Beside him sat a
metal plate, the food half eaten.

Ulrich heard a creak of wood, looked up at the dwelling
quickly to see an old woman quickly close the makeshift door. The other two
places looked vacant, but Ulrich was on his guard. Mandrak might think the few
left were happy to serve him, but Ulrich knew better. People found surprising
reserves to fight if the reasons were important enough. They gathered courage
in the last moments of life that they had never found their entire lives.

He pushed his foot against the door where he'd seen the old
woman. He called out, "Open the door, old woman, for I have seen you in
here."

Receiving no response, Ulrich drew his sword with left hand
and cautiously shouldered his way in, ducking his head under the doorway and
surveying inside, the child held at his right shoulder.

The dwelling was sparsely lit by two candles and a warm fire
glowed in the small hearth. The old woman sat in the one chair in the room,
smoking a pipe.

"The child needs food." Ulrich stood to his full
height once inside the dwelling but kept his weapon at the ready.

The old woman appeared to ignore them, then turned, surveyed
first him and then the child. "And what payment shall I receive?" she
snapped, blowing smoke between her rotten teeth.

"Your life," he replied softly. "You get to
keep it."

"Aye, so there is a reason to rise another
morning," she snapped. "And why should I feed the whelp of that
one?"

"Find food for the child, old woman. His belly is
empty."

She stood and hobbled closer, her hips twisted at an odd
angle.

Ulrich watched her warily, keeping her gnarled and thin
hands in sight at all times.

She peered at the child in the crook of his arm. The child
watched her, gnawing on the wood horse. She nodded, then looked up into his
face.

"Come -- food for this one," Ulrich said, growing
impatient.

"And what of food for you?"

"Nay, I ask only for the child."

She turned away and moved to a small table, whereupon she
pulled a linen cloth aside and uncovered two small apples. She pointed at them.
"One for each of you. For the child cut it into very thin slices."

"Woman's work --"

"If you want to eat, begin with the apples." She
placed a crude knife upon the wooden table and walked over to the hearth where
a small pot bubbled with a dark stew.

Ulrich placed his sword beside him and placed the child on
the small pallet and quickly quartered one of the apples. The child got on all
fours and rocked back and forth. Ulrich sliced the second apple. Cautiously, he
ate one of the slices. The child watched him.

The woman walked back toward him. "Give me the child.
His soiled clothing must be changed."

Ulrich stared at her hard. "Nay, I will do it." He
repositioned his sword against her chair should he need it in a hurry.

"You are protective of the child." She lifted her
chin.

"He is valuable," Ulrich said gruffly.

"It is good." She stirred the stew. "Clear a
space on the table. There are garments of a size to fit the child in that small
chest in the corner. Verily, you may use what you find."

Suffering no ill effects from eating the apple, he removed
the now wet and sloppy wooden horse from William's mouth and gave the child an
apple slice, then another as he quickly devoured them. It was a small amount of
food, but perhaps it would stave off some of the hunger pains the child might
experience.

"I have a goat I milked just before your arrival,"
the old woman said. "It will be good for the child."

Ulrich nodded, knowing Iliana sometimes fed William milk
from the goats at the keep.

When both apples had been consumed, Ulrich picked up his
sword and William, and moved to the corner of the room where the woman
indicated the chest was to be found. Keeping his back to the wall and his eyes
from time to time on the old woman, he was surprised to find a small ornately
carved chest. He ran his rough fingers over the fine workmanship. He opened it
and looked in surprise at the contents. He looked up at her.

"This is --

"Unexpected?" she chortled, and her gray and
haggard face appeared younger. "I was a seamstress in the queen's court
for fifty years or more. She commissioned me to sew all manner of garments for
the children. She used to dress them up like little men at arms. You may take
what you like."

Ulrich lifted a small tunic, a miniature of the one he wore
with small rings laboriously sewn into the fabric. He also pulled out chausses
and small leather shoes.

He looked at her suspiciously. "These are men's garment
in small size."

"He will need protection," is all she said.
"Hurry, it grows time for you to leave." She placed two stale bread
trenchers on the small table. Dipping a short length of linen in a water
bucket, she moved to the child and began to rid his face of the dirt and grime.
"What eyes this one has," she murmured, stepping back when she was
done. "The purest of emerald."

Ulrich looked at the gleaming brooch of emerald stones
fastened at the child's shoulder. A talisman for safety? He knew Iliana treated
the sick with stones, but these were brilliant such as he had rarely seen and
formed into a circle of silver. Putting it aside, quickly he divested the child
of his soiled garments, then began the laborious task of trying to dress him in
the garments he had pulled from the chest.

The old woman nudged him aside. "Stand there and watch
if you must, but 'twill be quicker work if I take charge of the child."

Ulrich stepped aside, but remained eagle-eyed as she dressed
the child quickly and efficiently. He pointed to the circlet with the winking
green stones, and the old crone retrieved it, turning it over in her gnarly
fingers.

She looked up at him, but said nothing and fastened it at
the child's shoulder. When the task was done, he looked at the child in
bemusement. "He looks like a small warrior."

"This one must be taken care of, eh?" she said.
She moved away from the now clean and dry William. "Come, eat quickly and
then you leave."

He stared at her, eyes narrowed. "We leave upon
Mandrak's direction."

"Sit." She ladled watery stew with tiny bits of
boiled lamb onto his trencher. Ulrich ate with the child in his lap, feeding
him little bits of lamb and vegetables. He did not know if the child ate such,
but it was that or starve.

"It is done," he said, rising. "I thank
you."

"He will sleep now," she said. She looked out the
open door toward the small dwelling where Mandrak's light burned brightly. She
wrapped a trencher and bits of stew meat in cloth, and held it out to him.
"For him," she stated, jerking her chin toward the sorcerer's
dwelling. "He pays me for food and so it is. But I am leaving. There will
be no more food." She looked at him. "As you must flee this place if
you wish to save this child."

"I do not care about the child," Ulrich snarled.
"I fed him to shut him up."

 "It is possible he may survive," she said as if
he had not spoken. "You will not."

Ulrich grabbed his weapon and sheathed it. "I have no
time for this blather."

"It is never too late for the sinner to be forgiven the
sin." She dared to grab him, her thin, puny fingers barely a fly landing
on his arm. "Take the child and go now."

"Mandrak."

She laughed softly. "He has fallen into fascination
with the spell book he came upon. He is intent on deciphering it." She
smiled. "Bring his meal."

"What of that one outside?" he asked, indicating
Camdork.

She narrowed her eyes. "He has been bewitched. No doubt
he displeased the sorcerer. He plays with rocks all day and makes sense of
nothing. Even the food he covers with dirt." She shrugged. "He will be
released when the time is right."