Ingram had caught up to them and watched the exchange. “Jerome, why don’t you find me a stick?” When Jerome reluctantly left Isabel’s side to search for another walking stick, Ingram turned to Isabel. “I think you have an admirer, my lady.”
Isabel knew it was true, and it gave her comfort. “I knew squires were young, Ingram, but it’s still hard for me to imagine them serving on the battlefield. Jerome can’t be more than twelve years old.”
“Just turned twelve, my lady, but he has been training since he was ten. He’s a good lad, if a little overzealous from time to time. Lord Chetwynd is careful to keep him at a safe distance during a battle. Jerome is devoted to his master.”
As Ingram spoke, Isabel noticed that his eyes were scanning the area. It was clear he was alert to his responsibility for her safety. Lord Chetwynd had two fine men devoted to serving him. She was impressed that her husband could inspire such loyalty.
When they reached the ancient fortress, Isabel saw that the limestone structure was still sturdy. Ingram signaled her to wait and went ahead through the large, curved entrance. Then he called, “Come ahead, my lady.”
The door was missing, and Isabel peeked into the roomy interior that was empty of furnishings. The building had two stories, and there were stairs at the back. Ingram inspected the signs of a campfire in the middle of the room. He poked the ashes to assure himself that they were not recent.
Although there was rubble all around, Isabel imagined what it must have been like when it was first built. The ceilings were high, and she pictured the walls covered with tapestries. From the small windows, there was an excellent view of the valley below, which afforded an opportunity to keep watch over the only approach. It certainly would have been a useful defense against enemy barbarians.
As Isabel sat resting on the stone stairs, conjuring up past residents, Ingram came to join her. “It’s a sturdy structure. Why do you suppose it isn’t being used?” she asked.
“It’s a little out of the way. Too isolated to be a safe dwelling.” He glanced about as he spoke. “I imagine Roman soldiers were stationed here to act as guards along the trade route. Perhaps a few families lived here as well.”
While they were talking, neither Isabel nor Ingram noticed that Jerome had disappeared. Ingram seemed surprised when the young squire suddenly burst into the room. “There are men approaching from the back. Strangers.”
Jerome had spoken quickly, but Ingram was on his feet and grasping Isabel’s arm before the lad had finished his words. Forgetting her aching muscles, Isabel worked hard not to stumble as she kept pace with Ingram. She knew that strangers on the road could mean trouble. Neither of her companions spoke again, and even as they hurried down the hill, they were careful to be as quiet as possible.
Ingram didn’t release his hold on Isabel’s arm until they reached the caravan. “You did well, my lady. It was probably nothing to be concerned about, but it’s always best to be careful. Bandits are unlikely to attack a caravan of soldiers, but they prey on travelers who separate from the group.”
Isabel’s heart was still pounding from the rush downhill, and she couldn’t speak. She nodded her head, not doubting for a minute that the caution was necessary. She remembered the day eight years ago when she hadn’t run away when she should have. The result would have been disastrous if Chetwynd hadn’t come to her rescue.
Among the other travelers, there was mild curiosity at the speed with which the trio had returned to the caravan, but the incident was not considered extraordinary, and it was soon forgotten. Only Isabel seemed affected. She looked around her with renewed appreciation for the danger that might be lurking in the beautiful countryside.
That evening the travelers set up camp on the banks of the Rhone River. Fortunately, the weather was mild for Isabel’s first night under the stars, and everyone seemed in good humor as they set about their tasks. The men tended the horses while the women built a fire to cook the evening meal. Marianna was already on easy terms with the other women. When Isabel made it clear she intended to do her part, the women accepted her offer of help in preparing the meal.
From the time Isabel was seven years old, her grandmother had insisted on giving her instructions in various household skills. Now she wished she had paid more attention. But she had preferred wandering about with Justin or Emma, and her skills were such that when her grandmother was not around, the women in the manor kitchen were happy to let her escape her duties. As she cut up the vegetables for the stew, she nicked her finger with the sharp knife. Marianna noticed and suggested she stir the stew, explaining that it was important that the bottom not burn on the hot flame.
Lord Chetwynd and Ingram had disappeared soon after the caravan stopped for the night. Isabel understood from what the women said that they were scouting the area, and she wondered if they were looking for signs of the men Jerome had seen earlier. They didn’t return to camp until the evening meal was already being served. Isabel was surprised when Chetwynd carried his bowl to sit on a log beside her.
Eager to ease the tension that had begun their day, Isabel said, “Thank you for allowing me to explore the fortress with Ingram and Jerome, my lord.”
“I’m sorry your excursion was interrupted. We found no sign that anyone is following us,” he assured her. “But we all need to be cautious.”
Chetwynd had spent the day feeling guilty for losing his control the night before and his temper in the morning. Isabel had both tempted and provoked him. The frustration of the physical attraction he felt and
