Page 99 of Bold Angel
With his former betrothed out of sight, Beltar seemed to relax, and the tension in the keep began to ease. He drank what seemed barrels of wine and insatiably ordered wench after wench to his bed. Fortunately, there seemed an endless number willing to please him, since he filled their purses with coin enough to ease his rough handling and sooth his savage thrusts between their legs.
Still, his eyes often drifted to Caryn. That he wanted her in his bed fired Ral’s temper. It took a will of iron to keep from grabbing the man by the throat and squeezing until his lecherous eyes slid closed. Finally after a long night of wenching, Beltar’s thoughts began to turn in another direction.
“I’ve had my fill of women,” he said the afternoon of the following day. “’Tis the boar sport you promised that intrigues me.” Even with his hair freshly scrubbed and his face scraped clean of whiskers, his smile looked slightly vicious. “I will bloody my lance at Braxston, one way or another.”
Ral worked to hide a twinge of anger.Take care, Beltar, or ’twill be the blood pumping through your veins that darkens the earth at Braxston Keep.
They set off at daybreak the following morn, Ral and ten men, Beltar and his ten. The rest remained at the castle, keeping the uneasy truce.
With the hounds forging ahead, they spotted feral pig spoor several hours into the hills and the dogs picked up the scent. Both grey- and deerhound bayed into the watery blue, early morning sky, then feverishly raced forward, leading the hunters deeper into the forest.
“’The beast is good-sized,” said Beltar, studying the animal’s tracks in the mud.
“Aye, and then some,” Ral agreed.
“’Twill be sport fit for a king.”
Ral did not answer. His gaze had moved up ahead, following the hounds disappearing in the distance. At the edge of a cluster of oaks they stopped, and the sound of their frantic baying increased, echoing eerily off their surroundings.
“They’ve cornered him at last!” Beltar’s voice rang out. “The great beast has at last turned to fight!”
“Aye… so ’twould seem.”
They rode in that direction, the men behind them armed and ready should their lords’ arrows fail to stop the savage boar.
“The beast is even bigger than I imagined.” As Beltar topped the rise, he saw the animal silhouetted against the thick girth of a tree.
“That he is, and by the look of him, far tougher. Already he has killed three of Braxston’s best hounds.”
“Aye,” Beltar said, “but they have drawn blood. ’Twill incite him to better sport.” So saying, he drew an arrow from his quiver, notched his bow, took careful aim on the boar, and let fly. It hit the boar in the hip, spouting blood and protruding grimly. A terrible squealing erupted and though the animal still faced them, it shielded itself between a downed tree trunk and a small outcropping of boulders.
“We’ll have to dismount to take him,” Ral said, butalready Beltar climbed down from his horse. Ral did the same, motioning for Lambert and Geoffrey to join them.
Leaving the horses behind, they crept closer to the wounded boar. It was huge and menacing, bristling with fury as it stamped its cloven hooves, its vicious tusks curving up and glinting in the sun as it prepared for a battle to the finish.
The smell of the beast made Ral grimace, the scent of fear and of blood and of death. He had smelled that same odor among men in battle.
“The beast is mine,” Beltar vowed, notching a second arrow into his bowstring. The stout man moved closer, stalking his prey while the huge wild boar stalked him, Ral notched his own arrow, as did Geoffrey and Hugh and two of Beltar’s men, surrounding the boar in the clearing.
Beltar’s arrow sang its death song, flying straight and swiftly toward the huge boar’s side, but instead of striking neatly between the ribs and sinking into the heart as Beltar intended, it struck a bone and bounced away. The animal squeeled in fury, then it charged.
Beltar readied another arrow and let it fly, hitting the animal squarely in the chest. It stumbled and faltered, but didn’t go down. Instead it turned a little to the left and continued its savage assault. It bore Geoffrey to the ground even as Ral’s arrow sank into its neck.
“Sweet Christ!” Ral swore, tossing his bow aside and reaching for the hilt of his sword. He raced toward Geoffrey, swinging his blade in a powerful arc, slicing into the boar and nearly severing the animal’s head from its shoulders.
Before the boar’s twitching body had stilled, two of Beltar’s knights raced in to drag the carcass off the man lying unconscious in the dirt, his head gashed open and his shoulder erupting in blood.
“Wrap a cloth around the wound and one around hishead to slow the bleeding,” Ral commanded. “We’ve got to get him back to the castle.”
“What a magnificent specimen.” Beltar nudged the boar with his foot. “A shame about your man, but ’tis the danger that makes for good sport.”
Ral said nothing. Instead he helped Lambert and Hugh lift Geoffrey onto his horse. They tied him across the saddle and Hugh grabbed the reins. Turning the horses, they started back to Braxston Keep.
Christ’s blood,Ral thought,if only Hassan remained at the hall.But the Arab physician had left to rejoin the king a few days after the birth of the child in the village. The priest was there, but Father Burton’s healing skills were primitive at best.
And then there was Caryn.
His wife had learned much from the Arab healer and she was certain to remember. Caryn was the young knight’s best chance for survival, as Ral knew only too well. Though the priest might not approve, Ral meant to see it done.
