While Angels Slept (31 page)

After a
half-hour of inspecting the countryside, a few of Tevin’s men found what they
thought was a trail leading off to the south.  Spurred by the discovery, Tevin
lead the entire brigade south until they came to what they believed was the
trail’s end.  A small village with a rather large church sat along the banks of
a gentle creek and Tevin showed no mercy as his men plowed into the quiet
little berg.

Peasants were
roused, bullied and terrified as Tevin’s men did a house to house search.  The
weeping of women and children could be heard as the town’s priest intervened,
begging to know why the men were raiding the town.  Tevin explained, as calmly
as he could, they he was looking for his family and would burn the town to the
ground if he did not find them.  At the moment, he was not permitting his men
to do anything more than roust people and search houses, but that would very
quickly change if he did not get what he wanted.

The priest, sensing
death for his flock if they did not comply with the enormous war lord who had
yet to fully identify himself, began shouting to the people as to the reasons
behind the raid.  Trembling and uncertain, the word was passed until two young
men eventually came forward and produced a pair of well-made weapons.  

Myles, who was
on foot as Tevin sat upon his charger to supervise the raid, inspected the
dirks in the shaking young hands.

“Where did you
get these?” he asked.

The priest,
standing next to the young men, nudged the one closest to him. “From… from a
dead knight, m’lord,” a skinny youth choked out a reply. “He had a knife
through his neck. We… we came across him early this morning when we were
searching for a lost lamb.  He was already dead when we found him, m’lord, I
swear it. We didn’t kill him.”

Myles removed
the dirk from the young man’s grasp, inspecting it closely.  Then he eyed the
pair. “You say he was already dead?”

“Aye, m’lord.”

“What time was
this?”

“At dawn,
m’lord.”

“And you saw no
one else?”

The two young
men passed glances. “There was another knight,” the youth said, hanging his
head. “We took this other knife from him.”

“And he was
already dead, too?”

“Aye, m’lord.”

“You saw no
women or children?”

“No, m’lord.
There was no one.”

Myles believed
him, for one very good reason; the young men would not have appeared with the
simplicity of stolen dirks to save their village from destruction had they been
guilty of more heinous crimes.  At least, that was Myles’ suspicion. Moreover,
they didn’t have the look of bandits, and Myles had seen plenty to know. They
looked like farm boys. Still, he eyed them both critically, as if his piercing
gaze would cause them to break down were they holding anything back.

“Then it must
have been your trail we followed,” Myles muttered.

The young men
didn’t know how to answer. They kept their heads down as the priest watched
Myles very closely.

“Will you please
stop what you are doing, my lord?” the pale old man asked. “These are good
people. They do not have your women and children.”

Myles looked at
the man. “Even so, they are still missing and we will find them,” he said. “If
you know anything, priest, now would be the time to tell me.”

The priest shook
his head. “I do not, my lord, I swear on our Most High,” he said earnestly.
“But these lands abound with murderers, thieves and bandits.  We have to fight
them off ourselves quite frequently.”

Myles knew that.
It was a wild and lawless land these days and the people reflected that.
Everyone lived with fear in their hearts and weapons in their hands.  He was
starting to feel some despondency as he tightened up his gloves, wondering how
he was going to deter Tevin from ripping the rest of the village apart.

“You would not
happen to know were any of those murderers are, would you?” he muttered drolly.
“Perhaps they are living out in the open somewhere with great bonfires that
will guide our way to them.”

The priest
cocked his head. “In fact,” he said, “there is a rather large camp of outlaws
not far from here. They raid our stores quite frequently and I even caught one
of them trying to steal from the church.  I told him he would burn in hell and
he laughed at me.”

Myles was
somewhat interested in what he was saying. “Where is this camp?”

The priest
pointed to the northeast. “That way, a few miles.  If you take the small trail
from the town that leads over the stream, follow it until it ends and keep
going. You will run into the camp less than an hour later.”

It was as good
an option as anything else.  At least it would be something to focus Tevin on
other than the innocents of the scared little village.  Nodding his thanks, Myles
marched back towards his charger, and towards Tevin, whistling loudly between
his teeth as he went.  When the soldiers turned to him, he issued orders to
cease their activities and mount their horses.  Tevin, having heard the
command, waited impatiently for Myles to come within earshot.

“These people
did not take Cantia or Arabel,” Myles said before Tevin could yell at him.
“However, the priest has told me of an encampment of outlaws a few miles to the
northeast. I suggest we focus our attentions there.”

“How do you know
Cantia isn’t here?” Tevin demanded as Myles mounted his horse.

“Because the
trail we found was from those two frightened young men over there,” Myles said,
pointing in the direction of the priest and a small, frightened crowd.  “The
men were hunting down a lost lamb and came across Gavril and Dagan.  They stole
a few weapons off of them.  They said that when they found the knights that
they were quite alone; no one else was around.  The priest suggested we try the
known outlaws in the area.  More than likely, they would have what we are
looking for.”

Tevin wasn’t
happy but, truth be told, but it made some sense.  Outlaws would more than
likely to be blame, as villagers did not usually ambush travelers on the open
road. So he allowed Myles to issue commands as the men gathered and sped off to
the northeast section of the village where a small footpath led to the stream
and then continued on the other side.

The sun was
nearly gone as the army raced northeast, tearing up meadows and forests and
foliage as they went.  Horses thundered and snorted, and the destriers that
Tevin and Myles rode, excited by the sense of urgency in the air, charged at
the head of the pack and snapped at anything they drew close to. They believed
they were heading in to battle and for Tevin, too, it was his sense as well. His
apprehension and fury were driving him.

Less than an
hour into their ride, the group headed in to a particularly dense cluster of
trees and Tevin and Miles had to raise their visors to see in the weak light. 
They could see something up ahead. Tevin raised a hand, calling a halt to the
brigade, as they sighted the faint flickers of fires in the distance.   

As they slowed
their pace to study the distant flames, an arrow zinged past Tevin’s head.
Startled, Myles snatched the crossbow tethered on the right flank of his horse
and lifted the weapon, pointing it in the direction that the arrow had come
from.  As the men spread out to capture whoever had fired the arrow, Myles
caught movement when the man, stationed in the trees and covered with soot to
conceal himself, launched another arrow.

 This arrow had
flame to it, sailing in an arc towards the distant fires. Myles launched his
own arrow at the man, hitting his mark and watching the man fall to the ground
in a heap.  Even though he’d taken out the look-out, the damage was done; the
flaming arrow had been a warning signal to the camp and Tevin knew their cover
was blown.  In the darkness, in the trees, he slammed his visor down and
unsheathed his broadsword.

“We have been
announced,” he said to Myles. “Make no delays.  If Cantia and Arabel really are
in that camp, they might try to kill them with our appearance.”

Myles spurred
his charger after Tevin, listening to the sounds as the distant settlement
began to take up alarm cries.  As they plowed through the trees and into the
perimeter of what appeared to be a very large encampment, Myles headed in one
direction to search and Tevin headed in the other.

He could only
pray, for all their sakes, that they weren’t too late.

***

 “Your son, my
lady.”

Cantia was
smiling as she handed over the swaddled, screaming bundle to the exhausted
mother. Overjoyed, the red-faced woman accepted the child, weeping as she gazed
upon the angry little face for the first time. Cantia watched the joy,
remembering well when she had given birth to Hunt and the euphoria she and Brac
had experienced. The joy of the successful childbirth was almost enough to ease
the fear of her captivity and she took a few moments to forget her predicament.

As she watched
the new mother, she began to wonder if she and Tevin would ever be blessed with
a child. She had lost one pregnancy before Hunt was born and had not conceived
again since his birth, so she wondered if she was even able to have any more
children. Brac had never said a word about it although she knew he would have
liked more children. 

She wondered if
Tevin would become disappointed in her if she wasn’t able to bear him a son. It
really wasn’t something she’d thought about until now. Cantia was torn between
wanting to provide Tevin with more children and knowing any children they had
together would be bastards.  But she pushed those thoughts aside to focus on
the new mother and baby at her feet.

“See if he will
suckle,” she encouraged.  “Put him on the breast and feed him.”

The new mother
moved her shift aside to expose a big, plump breast and put the infant to the nipple. 
The baby latched on and began to feed eagerly and, at that point, the other
women in the hut crowded around and took over, and Cantia knew her job was
finished.

She had done
what she had been called to do.  After initially examining the woman, she realized
that the child had been turned about in the womb. She then proceeded to oil the
mother’s belly up with grease and massage the child until the baby rotated around
so he was facing head-first.  She’d seen the midwife at Rochester grease up
bellies when babies were facing the wrong direction and, fortunately, her
observations had paid off.  She’d been able to help.

It was action
she hoped would sway Gillywiss.  The man had been seated just inside the hut
door during the entire event, his eyes on Cantia as if afraid she was going to
disappear.  As Cantia washed her hands in clean water, she stole a glance over
her shoulder at the man still sitting there in the shadows.  With a deep breath
for courage, for calm, she made her way over to him.

“I have never
known a man to remain in the same room as a woman giving birth,” she said. “You
are very brave.”

Gillywiss was
gazing up at her from his position on the stool.  He was leaning back against
the wall of the hut, his dark curly hair wild around his somewhat pensive face.
 He seemed quiet and introspective. He was just watching her as she dried her
hands on her surcoat.

“Where did you
learn to do that?” he asked.

She cocked her
head curiously. “What?”

He gestured at
the woman with the infant. “Deliver a child like that. Are you a physic?”

Cantia finished
drying her hands off.  “Nay,” she said. “But as the lady of Rochester, people
come to me for help. I have learned a few things in my time.”

Gillywiss nodded
faintly, still eyeing her. “Then you have my thanks,” he said quietly. “My
sister has already lost three children.  You have given her new hope.”

Cantia looked
over her shoulder at the woman feeding the newborn, seeing the joy on her face.
“Hope is what keeps us all alive,” she said softly. “Peasant or nobleman, it is
what drives us to rise in the morning and look forward to a new day.  Hope is
what keeps us bound to our loved ones and wish better things for them.”

“Is that what
keeps you bound to Winterton?”

Cantia turned to
look at the man, some hesitance in her expression. “I am bound to him because I
love him and for no other reason than that.”

“But you can
never be his wife.”

“Perhaps that
will change one day.”

“Is that what
you hope for?”

Cantia paused,
her brow furrowing in thought. “Aye,” she whispered after a moment. “I suppose I
do.”

“Then why does
he not find his wife?” Gillywiss wanted to know. “If he wants you to be his
bride, why does he not find the one who deserted him and his daughter? I do not
understand.”

Wearily, Cantia
sank to the stool next to him, feeling very depressed and exhausted all of a
sudden. She had no idea why she continued to share her darkest secrets with a
man she didn’t even know.  Originally it had been to gain is sympathy. Perhaps
now it was because he seemed rather wise as an outsider looking in.  

“He does not
know where, exactly, she is,” she shrugged after a moment. “The woman’s father
thought perhaps she had run off to Paris, but it all happened so long ago. It
is quite possible she is no longer alive.”

“But it is equally
possible that she is,” he said. “If Winterton loves you, why does he not do all
he can to find her?”

Cantia sighed
faintly, her gaze lingering on the woman and child near the fire. “He will,”
she insisted softly. “To be truthful, we have not… well, we have not been
together very long. There has not been much time for him to search out his
wife. Perhaps he will eventually, provided that… well, provided that I return
to him.”

Gillywiss watched
the pain and fear ripple across her features. “Is that what you wish?” he
asked.