The dungeons… Noel knew about them. Trojan had recorded an entire torture session on the rack from the Spanish Inquisition. A cold shudder passed through Noel as he was lifted bodily and set upon a mule. All he had to do for this farce to end was to come face-to-face with Lady Sophia, who wouldn’t know him from Adam.
She was bound to give him away.
Sick, Noel didn’t want to think about what would happen next. It could get a lot worse.
CHAPTER 5
“Sir Geoffrey!”
The voice came from nowhere. It echoed off hill and rock swiftly, rebounding until it was impossible to tell from which direction it came.
The knight leading Noel’s mule drew rein and glanced about with his hand upon his sword. They stood upon a narrow trail inches away from a sharp drop that plunged hundreds of feet into a ravine choked with fallen rocks and logs. On the other side, a limestone escarpment rose above them like a wall. In places it leaned over the trail, making the going almost impassable. The air smelled of heat, horse sweat, and orange blossoms, a wild fragrance unlike anything Noel had inhaled before.
“Sir Geoffreeeeeeeee!”
This time the call was plainly a taunt, teasing and shrill.
The knight swore to himself. “This is not a good place. Too close. Kick your mule, and let us ride on!”
Noel was in no mood to cooperate. The jouncing trot the knight had insisted on for the last half hour made his head throb like a bass drum. Looking down at the ground moving beneath his stirrup brought on dizzy nausea. The sun blazed at him without mercy. Noel just wanted to crawl into a dark hole somewhere and close his eyes.
“Come on, I said! Are you deaf?”
Sir Geoffrey tugged on the lead rope and the mule came forward with reluctance.
“Sir Geoffrey! Sir Geoffrey!” shouted two voices in unison. There came the sound of men barking like dogs. The echoes created an unholy din that shuddered along the mountainside.
Noel winced. “The dwarfs,” he said.
“What?”
“It’s the dwarfs.”
Sir Geoffrey stared at him as though he had lost his mind. “I know of no dwarfs.”
“Elena’s dwarfs,” said Noel with the exaggerated patience one used with a half-wit.
“Who-”
“Sir Geoffrey!” said Elena, appearing above them on the lip of the escarpment. She crouched low on one knee, every movement quick and supple, and tossed back her wild auburn hair.
Her hose and tunic had been exchanged for an ankle-length gown of sky-blue. It was straight in cut, with long sleeves, and plain of any adornment except for simple embroidery at the collar and upon the narrow kirtle that drew in her waist. A necklace of dowry coins tinkled softly each time they swung against her breasts. She had washed her face, but her hair had bits of leaf and twig in it as though she had snagged her tresses more than once while running down the mountainside to waylay them.
She was still panting, and a touch of perspiration made her face glow.
Noel forgot his headache. She was the most gloriously alive creature he had ever seen. Her vibrancy and sheer animal magnetism struck an immediate physical response within him. He forgave her for capturing him earlier. He wanted to jump off the mule and grovel at her feet. He wanted to chase her up and down the mountainside, making her shriek with laughter. He wanted to kiss her full lips and taste their strength and eagerness.
“Sir Geoffrey,” she said, her gaze for the knight alone. “Let me ride pillion with you to Mistra.”
The knight looked her over with moderate interest. “Faith, but you are a bold piece.”
Her eager smile faded. “I am Elena,” she said proudly. “Sister to Demetrius and Yani. I carry a message to Sir Magnin.”
Sir Geoffrey’s mouth twisted into mockery. “Ah, now I remember you. I was just in your brothers’ camp, and they mentioned no such message.”
“That is why I have run all this way. Sir knight, please take me to the castle. It is an important thing I carry.”
“The only message you have for Sir Magnin is an offering of your virginity,” said Sir Geoffrey. “Go home, little maid, before your brothers find out what sins you plan and come avenging you.”
She straightened with a jerk as though struck by a scourge. Her face flamed to the roots of her hair. Noel realized that Sir Geoffrey’s remark-although cruel-was exactly on the mark. But it took a real jerk to say it to her face.
“You-you are a jokester, I see,” she struggled to say. Tears made her eyes glisten, but she faced Sir Geoffrey’s jeering grin. “You should trade jests with my dwarf Thaddeus. His fool tales have worn thin from too much use. We need fresh merriment around our fires at night.”
It wasn’t much of a comeback, but it served to wipe the grin from Sir Geoffrey’s face. He said sharply, “You would do well to seek a confessor, little maid, and set your soul to rights. Not only are you playing with fire for your wanton ways and behavior, but a shrew’s tongue will not get you a husband.”
She spat at him. “Damn you!”
Sir Geoffrey spurred his horse and tugged the lead rope to move them on.
“Wait!” she cried, but Sir Geoffrey did not look back.
Noel did, however, and saw her scrambling down the escarpment like a monkey, fingers and bare toes finding holds he could not see. Her dress hiked up around bare, shapely thighs before she jumped the last bit and came running along the trail after them.
“Wait!” she cried again.
“Pull up,” said Noel. “Or she’ll run yelling after us the whole way.”
Sir Geoffrey drew rein with visible exasperation. He shot Noel an angry look and shook his head.
When Elena came panting up to them, Sir Geoffrey leaned over from his saddle and spoke before she had a chance: “Go home, you fool!” he said harshly. “Sir Magnin will not see you. He is an important man. He has a thousand details to see to this day, and the next, and for weeks to come. I vow you are too scruffy to catch his eye even were he not thus occupied. Go home.”
She glared at him. “I will go to the castle whether you give me a ride or not.”
“Oh, aye, hike in and present yourself. Look at you,” he said with a derisive gesture. “Ill-clothed, unshod, your hair hanging in your face. You might get inside the gates, but the seneschal won’t give you entry to the hall.”
His words hurt her. Noel could see her flinch although she glared fiercely to hide it.
“I can braid my hair,” she said. “And I have shoes. I shall wear them when I arrive.”
“Do not go to the trouble,” said Sir Geoffrey. “You will be on your back within five minutes of entering the gates.”
“Hey,” said Noel, deciding this had gone on long enough. “She doesn’t-”
“You may not care about a Greek maiden, Lord Theodore,” said Sir Geoffrey with an ascetic frown, “but as a knight I am just as sworn to uphold God’s law as I am to serve Sir Magnin. You know as well as I what will befall a maid like this in the castle. Our men are full of themselves. They had an easy time defeating your men, and the castle fell the hour they surrounded it. They have wenched and wined themselves all night. The townsmen have locked their women safely away, and the tarts left at hand are not enough to go around. A morsel like this, dirty as she is, is just too tempting.”
Noel blinked. This was one aspect of medieval life that he hadn’t considered. But he knew that Sir Geoffrey was absolutely right. The man’s decency surprised him.
“Sir Geoffrey is right,” said Noel, turning his gaze back to Elena. It felt odd to be lecturing her together as though they were colleagues instead of a guard and his prisoner. “It’s for your own safety, Elena.”
She tossed her head. “I can take care of myself. Last winter I killed a wolf while-”
