Page 114 of Bold Angel
He clamped his jaw against the insane urge to howl out his anger like a deerhound baying at the moon. His voice shook with rage and he fought to control it then found that he no longer cared.
“Find Lambert,” he said to Hugh. “Pick twenty men and see that the Ferret and what’s left of his men are turned over to King William. Tell him what has happened. ’Tis for him to decide what must be done with Malvern.”
“Aye, my lord. We leave in all haste.”
“And keep an eye out for Stephen, though ’tis nearly certain he’ll continue his retreat. His forces were badly defeated. I do not think he will attack again.”
Hugh just nodded.
“The rest of us return then to Braxston?” Odo asked.
“Aye. We must see to the injured.” His jaw clamped until he could barely speak. “And there is the business of the traitor.”
“You do not mean Lady Caryn?”
“’Twas she Geoffrey spoke of, was it not?”
“You cannot be certain. He did not say her name.”
“Besides the two of us, she is the only one who knew of our mission. You must know it can be no other.”
Still, Odo’s words had raised a thread of hope. He would cling to that hope through the hours of his return and pray there was some other answer.
In his heart, he knew that there was none.
Chapter Twenty-two
Bretta raced up the stairs to the keep, bursting through the heavy oaken door and running into the great hall. “Lady Caryn! The wardcorne just called out. ’E comes, milady. Ye lord husband and his men return home!”
A wave of relief rolled over her. “Can he see them yet? He is certain Lord Ral is among them?”
“’E seen the banner, ’e did—the lord’s black dragon on a field o’ bloodred. There was naught else ’e could make out.”
Caryn glanced toward the door, suddenly uneasy, her stomach beginning to churn. What if something had happened? What if Ral were injured? What if he were maimed or mayhap even…? No! She would not think the unthinkable. He was safe and he was well. Geoffrey had only been curious, and the questions she had answered… dear God, the trust she had broken… it amounted to naught but a young knight’s eager thirst for battle.
The men were returned and nothing untoward had happened. She would speak to Geoffrey, learn the truth of what had occurred that last eve.
She vaguely heard Bretta’s frantic urgings. “Ye’d best hurry, milady. ’E’ll be here soon, ’e will. Ye want t’ look ye best fer him.” They had been working togetherin the storeroom all morning, anything to keep her mind off Ral and the dangers he faced in his battle with the Ferret and his men.
“Hurry, milady!”
Caryn looked down at her tunic. It was old and faded, and her hair—sweet Mary, she looked like an urchin! Lifting her gown up out of the way, she whirled around and raced for the stairs. In minutes, she returned, dressed in her forest green tunic with a buttercup chainse, her hair neatly brushed and pulled back with tortoiseshell combs, just the way Ral liked it.
At the door to the bailey, she took a long calming breath, then started down the stairs. She stopped before she reached the bottom, noticing the servants no longer looked excited, their expression now solemn, some of the women close to tears.
“Sweet God, what is it?”
“A man from the village has run ahead of the others,” someone said. “Only half the men return. There are many wounded. The rest are feared dead.”
Caryn reeled as if she’d been struck by a fist. “What… what of Lord Ral?”
“’Tis was naught but bits and pieces, I heard. The man spoke to your steward.”
With eyes that seemed oddly out of focus, Caryn searched for Richard. He was standing among a group of peasants, Ambra at his side, staring toward the drawbridge. Woodenly, she made her way toward them.
“I would know, Richard, what… what news it is the villein has brought.”
He turned in her direction. “Lady Caryn. I was about to seek you out.” He steeled himself then told her much the same story the villein had, adding, “The Ferret has been captured. ’Tis said that a group of Braxston knights travel with Lambert and Hugh to King William. They mean to claim the king’s reward.”
