The irony was not lost on him that a group of outlaws led by a woman disguised as the wily Fox had not only confounded him, but also the King’s men.
Eleanor was incredibly brave, and had made decisions that would make most men cower. Not only that but she was courageous and honourable, like the bravest of knights.
Yes, indeed, he loved her...
Hugh looked wide-eyed into his hands. He was holding Le Renard’s mask and cape as though seeing them for the first time. He smiled to himself, coming to a decision. He needed to see Eleanor as soon as may be and tell her a few secrets of his own.
Hugh meandered out of the hut and back through the woods on a path in the direction of the castle, still clutching Eleanor’s mask and cape in one hand and her bow with the quiver of arrows in the other.
He would send them to King John, as some sort of affirmation that Le Renard was no more, and hope to God that it would suffice in pacifying the King. It would work if Eleanor promised to put a stop to the outlaws’ activities, and in time all this might fade away. Then, and only then, would they be able to put their lives back on track.
Muffled noises dragged him out of his musings and he was suddenly alert, his senses heightened. He stopped abruptly and saw shadowy figures flitting to his left. He crept through a clearing and looked around, knowing in his gut that something was not right. Mayhap it was a dog’s howling or a horse neighing nearby. But intuition told him that something was wrong. Very wrong...
Eleanor’s palfrey as well as another horse was tethered to a tree, whilst the old steward’s hound barked furiously. A figure was slumped low, facing down to the ground. What the devil was going on?
Hugh calmed the dog and knelt beside the man, his heart beating fast in his chest. He gently pushed the hood off the man’s head, gasping as he noted it was sticky with blood on one side. He removed the dirty cloth that had been tied around his mouth and gasped.
It was Gilbert Claymore...
The old steward had been battered, and blood was streaming from his nose. There was also blood from a few stab wounds on his arms and upper chest. Thankfully they didn’t seem fatal, but must be seen to immediately. Mercifully, he was still alive.
Hugh eased him gently up and fetched a flagon from the saddle bag, tried to give him a sip of water.
‘Gilbert, can you talk? What happened?’
‘Balvoire...’ His breathing came in short bursts but he managed to say more. ‘He was waiting for Lady Eleanor, waiting for me, and I believe he means her harm, my lord.’
Balvoire...
Damn, damn, damn!
Hugh felt as though he’d been struck hard in the stomach.
The older man swallowed. ‘He knows...he knows everything about her.’
This was very bad—as bad as things could get.
‘How many men were there? Do you have any idea where that bastard is taking my wife?’
‘Just him and one other, and they talked of taking her back to his castle. We need to get to her quickly.’
‘You are in no fit state, my friend. You’re lucky to be alive. Balvoire meant a slow death for you,’ he said. ‘Ride back to Tallany Castle and tell Sir William and some of my men to ride out towards Balvoire’s castle. This time he has gone too far. I’ll take Eleanor’s palfrey.’
‘Aye, very well, my lord—and take my hound as well. He’ll be useful to track my lady.’ Gilbert looked beyond Hugh’s shoulders, his eyes widening in surprise.
‘What is it?’ Hugh’s hand reached slowly for the hilt of his sword.
‘We have a problem, my lord... It’s Anselm, the outlaw who escaped earlier,’ Gilbert Claymore muttered under his breath. ‘He’s just jumped down from that tree and is walking towards us.’
‘What the devil is he doing here...? That’s all I need at a time like this.’
Hugh drew Le Renard’s cape around his shoulders, pulling the hood trimmed with fur forward over his head, and looked down at the mask in his hand.
‘Fox! I’ve been looking for you everywhere,’ Anselm shouted from behind him.
Absently, Hugh put on the mask and stood, turning as the outlaw reached them. He had to try and get rid of him somehow.
The huge man looked Hugh up and down and whistled, scratching his head. ‘It can’t be...’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Why, you’re a fully-fledged man, Fox, so you are.’
‘I must have eaten my greens these past few months,’ Hugh said wryly.
It was good thing that he hadn’t worn his chainmail and was wearing a drab tunic and hose that wasn’t too dissimilar to Le Renard’s.
‘I dunno...’ the outlaw said. ‘You don’t sound like ’im.’
‘I don’t care of what you believe, Anselm, but know this: I am him,’ Hugh said impatiently. ‘And I don’t have time for this. Let me help you up, Claymore. Easy, now, easy...’
Anselm swung over to the older man’s other side and lifted him. ‘I suppose I may as well thank you as any man.’
Was the outlaw addle-brained? Hugh’s men as well as the Tallany guards would still be scouring the woods looking for him. It was incredible that Anselm had managed to evade them as it was. Especially Will.
‘You owe me nothing and I must go—as should you. Or else all my effort for your freedom will be in vain.’
‘Nothing? He calls it nothing?’ he said. ‘If it weren’t for you I’d be a dead man hanging.’
‘Hell’s teeth, Anselm! I have to get away immediately and so do you.’
They helped the older man mount his horse before the giant of an outlaw turned and gave him a friendly smile, incongruent with the menacing shadowy bruises on his face and under his eyes.
‘Trouble afoot, eh? Where to?’
‘It’s too dangerous. You’re a wanted man!’
Claymore, clutching his chest, decided this was a good time to pipe up. ‘Lady Eleanor
