'Secret knowledge? Black arts, you mean? Absurd! The king has no need to learn the art of making lead into gold or of consorting with demons. The demons driving Richard are all of his own making. They exist within his mind and heart. Now if it's witches you want, I'll show you one, soon as I lay my hands upon the treacherous bitch!'
'You know a witch?'
'I married one, God spurn her!'
'I did not know you had a wife, Sir Guy.'
'There's the malady, I do not have her. She ran off to join the forest brigands, damn her eyes.'
'The outlaws? Surely, you jest! Why would a lady go-'
'Because she is no lady, that's why! It's why I married her, too. Perhaps, de la Croix, you can understand, being a knight errant. I serve my king, but being sheriff of Nottingham shire is a soft job for a soft man. I am a fighting man. I have always been a fighting man. I have fought for everything I've won in life and I fought for my women, too. There is pleasure in a hard won victory. I have little use for pampered willows who will bend before the slightest wind. By God, give me a woman who will fight and scratch and kick! I took Marion from her father and he was glad to be rid of a troublesome wench, but I liked her spirit! Oh, how she fought me on our wedding night! Damn near took my eyes out and wrecked my manhood! I beat her black and blue and still she would not submit. By God, there was a woman, I thought!'
'Indeed,' said Andre, dryly.
'Within the first week of our marriage, three times she tried to kill me,' the sheriff said. 'Once, she tried to stab me in my sleep. I still bear the scar upon my shoulder. After that, I tied her up when I was through with her and gagged her, so that I might sleep undisturbed. The second time, she tried poisoning my food. It was my good fortune that I had no appetite that day and but drank and ate some fruit. Still her effort cost me my best hound. I stripped some skin from off her shoulders with my lash and thereafter made her taste my meals first. The third time she involved the outlaws. She had often heard me speak of cleaning out these vermin from the forest and, before the king's return, I often led patrols into the wood myself. Well, she managed to get word to the outlaws through one of the stableboys and they arranged an ambush for me. Fortunately, they are as inept as they are unprincipled and I escaped, killing a good number of them and capturing several. My good wife, doubtless fearing that her part in the plot would be discovered by myself, freed the prisoners from my dungeons and escaped with them in the dead of night, little suspecting that I already knew of it and made the escape possible, hoping to trail them back to their hidden camp.'
'And did you?'
'No. I lost them in the woods, worse luck.'
'And your wife?'
'She has been with them ever since.'
'I should think that you would be glad to be rid of her,' said Andre.
'It might seem so, but I miss the bloodthirsty bitch. She made life interesting in these placid times. But I'll get her back one day, mark my word. She's a peculiar woman, de la Croix. Truth be told, I don't think she ever forgave God for making her a woman. Perhaps such an overabundance of spirit is misplaced in one of her sex.' Guy chuckled. 'She should have been a man.'
'Indeed,' said Andre, 'it is hard to imagine a woman who would not be satisfied with so passionate a husband as yourself.'
'I thought you would understand,' the sheriff said. 'You're a man after my own heart, de la Croix. What say the two of us go wenching some night?'
'Perhaps we will,' said Andre, 'when our present duties have been done.'
'Yes, one must always think of duty first. Still, a man must have time in which to be a man, eh?'
'True,' said Andre. 'Else women will forget their role in life.'
'The sheriff laughed. 'We can't have that, now, can we?'
'No, indeed. What kind of world would it be if women were to forget their place?'
'Perhaps they would even take to wearing spurs and entering the lists,' said Guy, laughing. 'That would be a sight, eh?'
'I think perhaps the ale has overstimulated your imagination.'
'No doubt. God made woman to serve man and that is how it should be.'
'Maybe someday you will find one who will serve you properly,' said Andre, smiling.
'I'll drink to that,' the sheriff said.
'So will I, Sir Guy.'
'Why so quiet, Andre?' said Marcel.
'I was thinking of the sheriff, little brother.'
Marcel frowned. 'I don't like him. He frightens me.'
'I don't like him either, Marcel. He's an animal, not a man.
But then, the difference is a small one, is it not? We serve strange masters these days.'
'Andre, why must we ride to Torquilstone? I'm afraid. I feel that no good will come of it.'
Andre reined up her horse. 'I have learned to trust your feelings, little brother. Have you a premonition?'
'The closer we get to Torquilstone, the stronger my fear becomes,' Marcel said. 'Let us not go there. Our horses are fresh, the day is young, we can put many miles between us and our troubles before the day is out.'
Andre sat astride her horse silently for a moment, listening to the birds sing.
'Andre?'
'I am sorely tempted, Marcel. But I, too, am afraid. This black knight is some sort of sorcerer. One moment, there is nothing there, the next, he is standing at my shoulder. He is the devil's own, Marcel.'
'Then we must fight him.'
'I fear we lack the proper weapons. How does one fight a warlock?'
'I do not know.'
'Nor do I. Perhaps we will find a way. Until then, we must bide our time and do his bidding.'
'And what if we run out of time?'
'Yes, time always was our enemy, Marcel. But then, one cannot master time.'
'So we ride on to Torquilstone?'
'Yes, little brother. We ride on.'
His bonds were almost loose.
I looker had tensed the muscles in his arms and wrists when they had tied him and now, as he walked ahead of his mule and behind the two Norman knights, he was making the best of the slight amount of slack by trying to work his hands free. The trail was narrow. If he could free his hands, he stood a good chance of being able to make a break for it. Perhaps he would be able to lose the men in the forest, but his progress would be drastically impeded with his hands tied behind his back. He had to get them free first. Fortunately, his position in the column made it possible for him to try. De Bracy and Bois-Guilbert rode their horses at a slow walk just ahead of him. Behind him was the mule with the nysteel armor lashed to it and behind the mule was Isaac, who was followed closely by the men at arms. Every time he had voiced a protest, one of them had cuffed him, so he was now reduced to mumbling incoherently under his breath. Hooker could not make out what he was saying, but he thought he caught a word or two of Hebrew. The old man was praying.
Hooker was flanked by two men at arms. The one on his right was left handed and he wore his sword on the right side of his body. The one on his left was right handed and wore his sword on his left side. That effectively put both swords out of his reach in the event that he could free himself and make a quick grab. It did, however, leave both their daggers within his reach. It was a weapon he was far more comfortable with.
His wrists were wet. He guessed that he had rubbed right through the skin so deeply that he didn't even feel the pain. The danger in that was that the blood would soak his bonds and make them more difficult to work loose. He struggled feverishly, keeping a careful watch with his peripheral vision on the men at arms to either side of him. They looked bored and tired, but if they noticed his efforts, they would quickly come alert.
Hooker was close to abject panic. He was sweating profusely. He didn't want to die. From time to time, in his brief career as a soldier, he had tried to imagine what it would be like to die. It was a morbid preoccupation, but he had not been able to resist it. He thought that getting shot would not be too bad, though there were ways one get
