Alys Clare - The Rose of the World

He let go of her hand. His arms shot out, and he grabbed her by the shoulders. His fingers were hard, pushing into her flesh, and they hurt. She knew then how dangerous he was.

She was not without courage. She said, very clearly, ‘You are hurting me.’

Instantly, his grip relaxed. He gave a short laugh, which sounded as if he was putting it on. Then he drew a couple of breaths and said, very nicely, ‘I saw you here three days ago. You were with her then. I watched you.’

She said, ‘What do you want with her?’

Then she understood, child though she was. She knew what men and women did together. She knew that when they wanted to have a baby they mated just like the animals did. She tried not to think about it, for it disturbed her.

This man wanted to do those things with Meggie. And Rosamund would have willingly gone into the chapel and sworn before God that Meggie didn’t want him to.

She stood up straight, wishing her knees were not trembling so much. ‘I don’t know who you mean.’

He shook her hard. ‘Oh, yes, you do,’ he said, his voice cold and menacing, ‘and you will tell me, even if I have to wring it out of you.’

Then a lot of things happened at once. Rosamund heard the sound of racing footsteps coming up behind her and, spinning round, she saw Ninian leap on Olivier’s back and grasp him tightly, pinning his arms to his sides.

And in front of her, a cool voice said, ‘You will not do that. I am here to stop you.’

Twisting back again, Rosamund saw Meggie standing before her. She had a sword in her hand.

Meggie and Ninian had left their horses on the forest fringe, tethered out of sight of the chapel. They had crept through the dense trees on tracks that Meggie knew as well as she knew the lines on her own hands, coming out behind the chapel. They watched as the two horses came to a halt out on the open ground, and they listened, as best they could, to what was being said.

Meggie had misinterpreted the threat. She believed, in the first horrified moments, that the lord in the russet tunic was hunting for the chapel’s secret: for the Black Madonna that her own mother had sent back here from the goddess’s former place of concealment in the cathedral at Chartres. She thought that the power surging through her came straight from Joanna, and that it was commanding her to defend the goddess and keep her safe from this man, whoever he was. Carefully, deliberately, she placed herself between him and the chapel.

Now she watched as he shook Rosamund. He will make the poor child tell him what he wants to know, she thought. She heard his furious words: ‘You will tell me, even if I have to wring it out of you.’

Ninian had gone around behind the other man. Meggie did not even stop to think whether he was still a threat, or whether Ninian would succeed in holding him off. Drawing her sword, she stepped out from her hiding place in the underbrush and walked across the clearing.

Even as Meggie made her calm announcement, Rosamund was already pulling herself out of the lord’s grasp and running over to her, calling out her name. Meggie put out her left arm and drew the girl fiercely to her side. ‘Are you all right?’ she whispered.

‘Yes!’ Rosamund breathed. Then: ‘He wants you, Meggie. He wants to bed you.’

Meggie opened her mouth in amazement. For an absurd moment she wanted to laugh. He was not after the Black Madonna. He was after her. Then she saw that the younger man had wrestled himself out of Ninian’s arms. Even as she watched, he pushed Ninian away and drew his sword.

Slowly, the man in the russet tunic stood up. He was looking right at her. ‘It’s you,’ he said. It felt to Meggie as if the fire in his blue eyes was searing against her bare skin. He took a step towards her and instinctively, still clutching Rosamund, she moved back. Slowly, he shook his head in wonder. ‘Against all expectation, this fool’s plan — ’ he nodded in direction of the man — ‘has achieved the right result.’

She stared at him. She could sense his fierce lust; she could smell it in the beads of sweat on his flushed face. He extended his hands to her. ‘My lady, will you not approach and-’

She did not wait to hear any more. She raised her sword and brought it down in a wide, sweeping curve…

… only to have it blocked by his. He had reached down and drawn it from its scabbard with a speed she would not have thought possible.

She did not know what would have happened next had a sudden, piercing cry not rung out across the clearing. Rosamund shrieked, the lord spun round and, with the strong pressure his sword had been exerting on hers suddenly gone, Meggie stumbled and fell.

Ninian’s opponent had a long cut on his left forearm and the blood was pouring down his hand. The cut was no mortal blow, however, and Meggie watched in horror as, with a howl of rage, the young man raised his sword and lunged at Ninian. Ninian, sword in his right hand and knife in his left, waited, poised on his toes, and Meggie could see the tension in him. The lord was already hurrying up behind him; Ninian was surrounded.

She pushed Rosamund away from her and launched herself after the lord. He spun round and snarled at her and, just for an instant, both Ninian and the young man were staring at her too. The blood pounded through her body, and she saw a red mist before her eyes; through it came the sudden, sharp awareness that all three men had bright blue eyes.

They all turned inward to face each other. Three swords were held high, and then, as the young man closed on Ninian and the lord launched himself on them both, the long weapons became useless and the knives were drawn.

For the blink of an eye she watched the struggle, then she ran over to join in.

She did not see exactly how it happened, but all at once the young man lay still on the ground, the lord was kneeling down clutching both hands to his shoulder and Ninian stood alone, a bloody knife in his hand.

She met his eyes. There was triumph in his face. But he was wrong to feel jubilant, for now the danger was even greater. ‘Run!’ she yelled.

He looked at her, wiping blood from his lip with his left hand.

‘Go!’ She ran across to him, pushing at him. Still wild from the fight, he felt as hard as iron. She put her hands on his shoulders, pulling him close. ‘Ninian, if he’s dead they’ll make sure you hang!’ she cried urgently. ‘He’s a great lord, and you’ve felled one of his men! Even if you and I swear it was two against one and they attacked you, who will be believed?’

Still he did not move.

Desperate now, Meggie went in for the kill. ‘What would it do to Josse if you were hanged?’ she demanded, sobbing. ‘He loves you like a son, and he’s already lost our mother. Would you break his heart again?’

She had reached him. She knew it. He sheathed his knife, bent to pick up his sword and, straightening, gave her a hard hug. Then he turned and ran.

Meggie waited until she could no longer hear him. Rosamund had come to stand beside her, pressing herself close against Meggie’s body. Absently, she smoothed the girl’s fine hair. ‘The danger is past now,’ she murmured. ‘You’re safe with me.’

The desire to take to her heels and, grabbing Rosamund’s hand, run as fast as she could to the hut in the forest was all but overwhelming. The hut was where she had lived as a child with her mother. It was the most secure place that she knew, for very few people were aware of its existence. Meggie knew how to make it all but invisible. She had seen her mother work that particular piece of magic when she needed to hide from the world, although Meggie did not think that her mother had known her little girl was watching and memorizing the chant and the actions.