A Lily on the Heath
Page 11

“Nay, miss. For I am a much better shot than whoever loosed that arrow,” he said. And for the first time, Tabby caught a glint of humor in his eyes.
“And so you say. I doubt I should ever find out the truth of that statement or nay,” she told him, slipping her small dagger back into its sheath. “Good day, sir.”
She’d walked hardly three steps away when he called after her. “What is your name, then, comely miss?”
She hesitated, then flung an answer over her shoulder, “I am called Tabatha.” Her feet kept at a rapid pace, but somehow when she heard movement in the grass behind her, she wasn’t surprised he’d followed.
“Truly, what do you intend to do with that mangled creature, Tabatha?” asked the man as he fell into step with her. His long legs took one pace for every two of her shorter ones. “Methinks there’s little hope for the wee beastie.”
“If I cannot heal him, then at the least he will die in comfort and safety. Which is more than I could say for my papa, who died alone and on a field of battle.” Tabby’s eyes widened, for she couldn’t believe those words had spilled from her mouth. Was Lady Judith’s loose tongue now become contagious to her?
“I’m very sorry for your papa,” her unwanted companion replied.
Tabby made a sound of dismissal and continued to walk at a fast pace. They’d reached the edge of the orchard now and there were others in view. She kept the still-trembling rabbit wrapped closely next to her, however, for she cared not to draw more attention to herself.
“Good day, O nameless sir,” she said, turning away at a large clump of yellow-sprigged myrtle.
“I am called Nevril,” he called after her. “Best of luck with the wee critter.”
With the furious, feral dogs snarling just below her perch, Judith could not go down…but she could go back up.
And so she did, climbing back up into the tall, swaying pine. She took much more care this time, knowing if she fell not only would Piall—oh, dear Piall!—not be there to catch her, but the rabid canines would. And so she went very slowly, branch by branch, trying not to think about the dire situation.
She’d lost one of her most trusted men. Judith’s eyes filled with tears and her stomach lurched, horror at the manner of his death at last sinking in.
And at least one horse was gone…for she’d seen the remains, torn into shreds by the possessed beasts. ’Twas clear to Judith the pack of dogs weren’t hungry and desirous of eating, but that they were well and truly maddened. Wild animals only killed what was necessary for survival, but these creatures were different. Bent only on destruction.
Judith’s hope was to climb high enough that they’d forget about her and eventually leave. Then she must take the chance and climb back down, and hope…what? That she could somehow make her way to help? She had no horse to ride. She wasn’t certain where to go. She and Piall had traveled nearly two hours from Clarendon. Judith didn’t know the way back. They’d passed no town or village on the way, although she remembered Piall pointing out the direction of Marchmonte.
She drew in a deep breath, inhaling the fresh pine scent. Cease your worrying. You are resourceful and smart. You will find a way out of this.
With that private lecture, Judith gathered her resolve and climbed still higher. The snarling and barking continued below, but she was safely far away from the beasts.
When she reached the nest, Judith once more tied herself to the pine trunk. To her relief, the two eyases were still alive but no longer as desperate for food. They seemed to have settled to rest.
She used the advantage of height in the tree to decide which direction she must go once she was able to climb down. Hills rolled in seemingly infinite waves, and the scrub of trees studding the rocky hills didn’t appear welcoming. There was a roadway in the distance, and Judith realized it was her best opportunity. If she could find her way to the road, eventually it would lead her to help.
Now, all she could do was wait. She opened her wineskin and drank—but not as much as she wanted to. There was no telling how long she’d be trapped here, and she’d need water. Nibbling on a piece of bread, Judith had another idea. If she could climb from this branch to another tree, and then to another and another…mayhap she could elude the dogs that way.
But when she looked around, she saw there weren’t any other tree’s branches close enough that would bear her weight.
The little niggle of worry began to spread into something larger and heavier. Once more Judith forced herself to ignore it. The dogs had to leave sooner or later.
And when they did, she’d find her way down and away. She would. She must.
Now she had naught left to do but wait. So, tied securely to the tree, she let her head tip back against the trunk and closed her eyes.
Tabby always enjoyed watching her grandpapa do his work for the Lilyfare hawks. One of her earliest memories was the sight of him sitting on a short wooden stool near the fire, a myriad of candles around him as he carefully stitched a pair of jesses for Lady Judith’s father.
Her grandpapa had a great love for the raptors and was grateful for his position as Master Falconer for the Lord of Kentworth and now the lord’s daughter, Lady Judith. Since it was illegal for any but the gentry to own the large hunting birds, Tessing was able to spend as much time with the falcons and peregrines as he chose. He had a goshawk for his own hunting purposes, but Lady Judith’s Hecate and Fencer were very nearly as much his as they were hers.
After Tabby settled the injured rabbit in a small basket next to her pallet, she came to her grandpapa for advice. It was through him she’d learned how to care for the injured creatures she found.
“I pulled an arrow from his leg,” she told Tessing, watching as he cleaned out the mews. The floor was covered with sawdust and hay, along with the castings regurgitated by the birds. “The bleeding has stopped and I wrapped it up gently with a cloth. But methinks a poultice might serve him better. What did you put on Hecate?”
“A paste of dried woad and lavender,” he replied. “Pull its fur away from the wound to make certain it doesn’t stick inside as it heals.”
“Aye. And for food, I’ve pulled some arugula and dandelion leaves and left them where he can reach.”
“And where is Bear during this? Surely you don’t want him to decide to gnaw on a rabbit leg?” Tessing teased.
Tabby frowned, thinking of the man named Nevril who’d made a similar jest. “What is it with men—is it always only food that sits in their minds?”
“Food, ale—and copulatin’,” her grandfather replied with a wheezing laugh. He must have found that particularly amusing, for he kept chuckling even as he continued sweeping up the pellets on the floor.
“And their bloody swords,” Tabby added tartly. As she went to adjust the rows of leather jesses—long strips that connected the raptor’s feet to his master’s gloves—there was an alarmed shout in the bailey.
This was nothing unusual—someone was always shouting, warning, arguing or otherwise making a loud noise. But the tone had her and Tessing both hurrying out of the mews to see what caused the commotion.
A cluster of men-at-arms and knights stood talking and gesticulating. The first person Tabby recognized was Sir Holbert, Lady Judith’s master-at-arms. He seemed to be the one speaking most animatedly.
“God’s stones,” breathed Tessing. He reached over and curled his fingers around Tabby’s arm. He was pointing to a sight right next to the men, right by the stables. A trio of grooms and one man-at-arms were gathered around a horse. “That’s Crusty.”
“Nay,” she gasped, looking around in hopes of seeing Lady Judith. “My lady….” Tabby’s heart thudded so hard she thought she might be ill. She ran over, her eyes fixed on the battered, staggering mare.
Because the grooms were already attending to Crusty, Tabatha didn’t get close enough to see much more than a gash in the mare’s side and another injury on her right flank. But ’twas clear something awful had befallen both the horse and her mistress.
“Sir Piall!” Tabby cried and spun, rushing over to Sir Holbert.
He heard and immediately turned on her. “Tabby—where is Lady Judith?” His eyes were dull with worry and fear, and she saw he’d already begun to prepare himself to ride out, having donned his mail and cloth hauberk. He was carrying a shield. “Has she yet returned?”
“She and Sir Piall went to capture a hawk,” she told him, aware that the attention of every man in the group was fixed on her. “I don’t know where they went.”
“They traveled to the forest at the foot of those hills.” Grandpapa, bless him, was next to her now. His voice, calm and yet laden with gravity, soothed her some small bit. “Sir Piall would allow nothing to happen to my lady.”
“But there is her mare,” said a man who towered over the others. Like the others, he was garbed in full mail and had obviously been training in the yard. “And aught has clearly happened to her.” His voice was tight and his green-brown eyes cool and sharp. His fine surcoat and the shield he carried indicated his status as a great lord.
Though Tabby didn’t know him, she recognized the standard on his shield and surcoat. It was the same as the livery worn by the man named Nevril. With a start, she realized that very man was standing in the group as well. He glanced over, but made no move to speak to her. Nevril’s face was serious, and he returned his attention to his lord.
“We must ride after them,” Sir Holbert said unnecessarily, for the group had already begun to call for the grooms to bring their horses. “God knows what has befallen them.”
“’Tis a two-hour ride to the hills,” said Nevril’s master, peering into the distance from beneath a hand shielding the sun. Despite the grave situation, he appeared calm and thoughtful. “What time did they leave?”
When he turned suddenly to Tabby, she was startled at being addressed so directly by such a powerful lord. She stammered, “’Twas well after mass.” Peering at the sun’s position, she calculated quickly. “They’ve been gone at the least five hours.”