'And dull my wits,' he retorted.
Judith sighed and went to find him a fresh pair of chausses and some salve for his grazed cheek and thigh.
'It seems that I have misjudged you,' Alicia said to him softly.
Guyon finished arranging his sleeve. 'I hope I have enough common sense to realise that rape is not the best way to begin a marriage. I haven't touched her and I won't until she's ready ...' He stopped and looked round as his father swept aside the curtain and strode into the room.
'Your huntsman's bolted,' he announced starkly.
'Snatched de Lacey's courser from a groom and was out over the drawbridge before anyone could stop him.'
Guyon's eyes darkened. 'God's teeth!'
'That is not the worst of it. De Lacey's gone after him and with every right to kill . Pembroke's with him and de Serigny. Chester's taken de Bec and some of the garrison and ridden after them.'
Guyon swore again and reached for his swordbelt.
'I'll meet you in the bailey,' Miles said.
Guyon struggled to tighten the belt with his injured left arm. Judith hastened to help him.
'Have a care, my lord,' she said anxiously. 'I fear that Rannulf may not be the only quarry.'
He looked down at her upturned face and with a humourless smile, tugged her braid. 'Forewarned is forearmed, so they say,' he replied. 'I promise you I'll do my best to stay alive.'
Riding hard they caught up with de Bec and Chester a little beyond the village and de Lacey upon the track that led eventually across the border into Wales.
'I thought I had him!' de Lacey growled, 'but the bastard's doubled back on me. Bones of Christ, when I catch him I'll string him up by the ball s. Do you know how much that stall ion is worth?'
'Nevertheless, I will have him alive,' Guyon said curtly.
'God knows why,' Arnulf de Montgomery snorted. 'First that 'weak spear' and now Walter's best courser. The man's guilty, no doubt about it.'
'Yes,' Guyon said, 'and I want to talk to him about why.'
Pembroke flushed. Ralph de Serigny looked puzzled. De Lacey drew his sword and turned his horse, momentarily blocking the road.
Guyon and his father exchanged glances. Without a word Miles dismounted and disappeared into the woods bordering the road.
He had spent his boyhood among the Welsh hill s and, saving the supernatural, could track anything that trod the earth, including a rat that smelled so bad the stench of it was all pervading.
'Put up your sword,' Guyon said to de Lacey, 'Rannulf will meet his end in justice, not hot blood, when the time comes.'
De Lacey returned his stare for a long moment before breaking the contact. The sword flashed again as he shrugged and began sheathing it.
'This is justice,' he said.
Unease prickled down Guyon's spine. He began reining the chestnut about. Simultaneously there was a warning shout and the whirr of an arrow's flight. He flung himself flat on the courser's neck and the arrow sang over his spine and lodged in a beech sapling on the other side of the road.
De Lacey drew his sword again and spurred his stall ion into the forest. De Bec bellowed and kicked the dun after him while Hugh of Chester rammed his own mount into Montgomery's horse, preventing him from pursuit. Among the trees, someone screamed. Guyon hauled on his rein and urged the chestnut in pursuit of de Lacey and de Bec.
He was too late. The huntsman Rannulf sprawled in sightless regard of the bare winter branches. Walter de Lacey, his tunic splashed with blood, stood over him, his eyes blazing and his whole body trembling with the aftermath of violently expended effort and continuing rage.
Miles was leaning against a tree, face screwed up with pain and arms clutching his torso.
Ignoring his injured arm, Guyon flung himself down from the courser and hastened to him.
'I'm all right,' Miles said huskily. 'Just winded. I'm not as fast as I was ... more's the pity.' He flashed a dark look at de Lacey and pushed himself upright.
Guyon glanced him over and, reassured, swung to the other man. 'I said I wanted him alive!' he snapped.
De Lacey bared his teeth. 'Should I have let him knife your father and escape?'
'If you were close enough to kill him, you were close enough to stop him by other means, but then dead men don't talk, do they?'
De Lacey's sword twitched level and the red edge glinted at Guyon, who reached to draw from his own scabbard. Hugh of Chester, moving swiftly for a man so bulky, placed himself between the men, his back to Guyon, his formidable blue glare for de Lacey. 'My lord, you forget yourself,' he said coldly.
'I forget nothing!' de Lacey spat, but lowered his blade to wipe it on the corpse before ramming it back in his scabbard. He turned on his heel to examine the stolen horse, running his hands down its legs to check for signs of lameness.
Guyon compressed his lips and struggled to contain his fury.
De Lacey mounted the black, looped his other mount's reins at the cantle and after a contemptuous look at Guyon, rode over to where Montgomery waited.
Guyon watched de Lacey with narrowed eyes and with conscious effort, slowly unclenched his fingers from the hilt of his sword.
Chester bent down beside the dead man and picked up the bow. 'You were drawn here to be killed, you realise that, lad?'
Guyon grimaced. 'I suspected it back at the keep and knew for certain the moment we caught up with them. A man so anxious to retrieve his horse would hardly lag to wait for us. Did you see the way he blocked my path to make me a sitting target for this poor greedy wretch?'
'It was all arranged last night,' de Bec said, leading over Guyon's courser and Miles's grey.
'I'm sure of it now. If you search his pouch, you'll probably find the cost of his betrayal.'
Chester reached to the purse threaded upon the huntsman's belt, unlatched the buckle and delved. The small silver coins, minted with the head of the Conqueror, gleamed on his broad, fleshy palm in mute evidence of treachery. He trickled them from hand to hand, eyes following their flow and then looked up at Guyon. 'Will you take it further?'
Guyon gingerly remounted. 'How can I? Oh, I know that's proof in your hands, but it's not damning. It could easily be claimed that Rannulf won it at dice. Besides, with this arm I'd be mad to risk challenging de Lacey or Montgomery to a trial by combat which would be the sure outcome of a public accusation. No, let it be. Each of us--'
He broke off and looked around as his father, who had reached for his mount's bridle, uttered an involuntary hiss of pain. 'Sir?'
Miles made a face. 'I think I must have a couple of cracked ribs - and my pride is sore wounded.
In the old days I'd have taken Rannulf like a wraith from behind and him none the wiser until my dagger was at his throat. The flesh grows old and the mind forgets.' He shook his head regretfully.
'De Lacey has come out of this coil with a halo of glory, hasn't he?'
'Shining with corruption,' Guyon agreed. 'But at least I know where his intentions are nailed.'
CHAPTER 6
Alicia fetched the comfrey salve and a fresh dressing and went to Miles where he sat on the bed. He was stripped to the waist and she had just unbound the yards of swaddling bands from his injured ribs in order to treat again the nasty graze that swept over his left side, legacy of yesterday's scrimmage.
'You and your son between you seem determined to exhaust our supplies,' she remarked to break the
