Suzanne Barclay - Knight's Rebellion

Gowain drew off his mended cloak and laid it over the boy, the gesture surprising and touching. “Just lie still.” He glanced around and glared at Alys. “Damn, I thought you’d run off.”

“I would never leave someone who needs me.” Alys fell to her knees on Dick’s other side.

“You’d be the first, then,” Gowain muttered.

“Sister, am I going to die?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“It hurts.”

“I know.” Alys longed to remove her gloves and touch him, to let the warmth of her flesh soothe him. But if she did, his pain would engulf her and she’d be useless. She stroked his cheek with the backs of her gloved fingers and let all her concern, all her confidence and, aye, all the love she felt for this skinny boy, show in her smile. “Trust in me, Dickie of Newton.”

He smiled. “I do.” His lashes fluttered, then closed.

“He’s fainted, thank God,” Alys said.

Gowain tugged off his worn helmet and tossed it to the ground. Leafy light gleamed dully on sweaty, well-chiseled features, a wide forehead, high cheekbones and a square, cleft chin. His hair, black as a raven feather, curled wetly against his bronzed skin. But it was his eyes that caught and held her. They’d looked black in the shadowed depths of his helmet. Now she saw they were green. A rich, velvety shade of green that reminded her of the forest at night. He might have been counted a handsome man, if not for the coldness in those dark, merciless eyes. Aye, he was all hard angles, a harsh face and remote eyes. Unforgiving. Uncompromising. “Can you save his life, Sister?”

“Aye. I need hot water, clean cloths for washing and—”

“You’ll have to make do without.”

“Do you want him to die?”

A twig snapped behind them. Gowain leapt up, sword in hand, and stood over them, as protective as a wolf defending its mate and cub. The bushes parted, and a mountain of a man stepped out.

“Ah, here you are,” he fairly sang out. “Lang Gib said he’d seen you taking to the forest with a wench, but I could scarcely credit that.” He looked down at Alys and her patient. “Dieu, it’s Stork!” His hand hovered over the boy’s head. “Is he dead?”

“Nay,” Alys replied, touched by his concern. “But he needs immediate care. If you could get me water and—”

“I’ve told you we haven’t time.” Gowain sheathed his sword with an angry motion. “Darcy, rig one of the wagons we captured to carry the wounded. Sister Alys will ride in it and tend them. Be ready to travel in a quarter hour.”

“Sister.” Darcy’s wide face was all smiles. “‘Twas a lucky thing we chanced on you.”

“She was with Ranulf,” Gowain growled, making Darcy’s smile dim. “What happened after my horse faltered? Did you manage to capture the scum?”

“He got clean away, though he left many a dead man behind. Wounded, too.” Darcy sighed. “Damn, I thought you had him.”

“So did I, but he maneuvered me into a corner. I could not take him without killing him.”

“Ranulf deserves to die,” Darcy exclaimed.

“But not by my hand.” Gowain’s jaw tensed. “I’ll not kill my own brother.”

“Aye, well. I expect there’ll come another day when we can take him and stop this.”

“I pray so.” Gowain cursed and ran a hand through his hair. “Damn. It would have saved us so much if we could have captured him and forced him to yield to our demands.” His hand fell to his side, clenched into a tight fist. “Losses?”

“Not bad.” Darcy rattled off the name of one who had died. “We’ve a handful with minor injuries and three others sore hurt…. Mayhap you’d see to them when you finish with Stork, Sister?”

“Certainly. I need hot wá—”

“We’ve no time to tarry,” Gowain said. “Ranulf could return at any time. Bind their hurts as best you can. We’ll see you have what you need when we get to camp.”

“I can’t go with you. I’m needed at New stead.”

His gaze turned icy. “So you said, but Newstead Abbey is miles from here…in the opposite direction from the one in which you were traveling, I might add.”

What could she do but try to bluff? “That’s impossible. Ranulf told me—”

“Then he lied. My dear brother has a way of twisting things to suit himself.”

“He did not lie about you,” Alys snapped.

“What did he say about me?” he asked softly.

“That you robbed, burned and murdered. That you attacked innocent travelers…just as you did us a few moments—”

“Ranulf is no innocent.”

“So you say, but I think—”

“I’ve no time to trade insults with you, Sister.”

“Fine. Give me a horse, then, and I’ll be on my way.”

“And leave the wounded behind to die?” he asked in that silky voice she was coming to hate. “Is that not against the oaths you swore to aid mankind?”

“I did not vow to aid criminals.”

Gowain tsked. “I did not know the church made such distinctions. Are not all men worthy in God’s eyes?”

Alys stiffened. He might be a brigand, but he was a clever-witted one to trap her so. “I could have ridden away when the fighting started,” she said with a calm she didn’t feel. “I stayed to help Dickie, and I will gladly see to the others. All I ask in return is an escort to Newstead when they are well. Is that too much to ask?”

“Nay, it is not,” Darcy said quickly.

Gowain’s glittering green gaze remained locked on her wary one, holding it so that she couldn’t look away. “Providing you are not Ranulf’s spy. ‘Twould be folly to let her go if she means to betray us…especially now.”

The last must have held meaning for Darcy, because he nodded, expression dour. “I will set someone to watch her on our ride to camp.”

“If you move Dickie, you consign him to death;” Alys said. “For jolting about in a wagon with his wound unstitched would kill.him. I will not, I cannot in good conscience, leave till he’s properly—”

“I cannot spare more time,” Gowain snapped. “If you are so concerned for them, I suggest you use it to bandage them rather than issue edicts.” He turned and stalked away.

“Clod, cold, unfeeling clod,” she muttered.

“Nay, he is not that,” Darcy said. “You do not know him, so you cannot see what it cost him to give that order. But there are many lives depending on him. We must reach our camp, and swiftly, lest Ranulf return.”

I hope he does, Alys thought. I hope he comes and kills you all. Fortunately, she was wise enough not to voice such an unnunly hope aloud. Nor did she really want all these people killed, but it would give her great satisfaction to see Gowain meet an outlaw’s just rewards…the hangman’s noose. As she bent to tend Stork, her hands shook so badly she could scarcely bind the wound. Partly it was sharing a measure of the pain the young boy felt; partly it was fear for herself.

What would happen if they discovered she wasn’t a nun?

“You were rude to Sister Alys,” Darcy said when they were well away from the scene of the battle.

“I have greater worries than hurting the feelings of a spoiled, prideful nun,” Gowain growled, his mind on the perilous journey to safety. They rode at the head of the swiftly moving column, with a rear guard as well as men afoot to sweep away traces of their passage. It had taken time and work, but his rebel band ran as smoothly as the king’s army in France.

“She is uncommonly beautiful for a nun.”

“I did not notice.” But he had. He could still recall the feel of her small, slender body against his. His nerves still tingled from the spark that had passed between them. One instant he’d been furious with her, the next, swept by desire. Jesu, he was truly a lost cause if he lusted after a nun. And one who might well be in league with Ranulf.