Jerome spoke thoughtfully, as though he hadn’t considered his history in some time. Isabel found it hard to reconcile his story with the joyful lad she had come to know.
“I wasn’t much use at first,” he told her. “But I kept at it and learned to do chores. The talk of leaving me at a monastery died. When I was ten, I became Chetwynd’s squire.”
Isabel could hear the pride in his voice as he continued. “You may think Lord Chetwynd’s troop is small, my lady, but all the men are skilled. And he is the most skilled knight in the kingdom. King Louis has sent him on many campaigns and granted him a fine manor. Until this spring he had his choice of campaigns.”
Jerome went suddenly silent. Isabel knew from Justin that King Louis, as well as his father before him, used private armies rather than maintaining a large army of his own. The king rewarded his knights for their service by granting them land so that they could support their men. She remembered that Chetwynd had mentioned receiving a benefice from the king when her grandmother had talked of Isabel’s dowry.
Isabel respected Jerome’s reluctance to speak further about whatever had happened between Chetwynd and King Louis. Jerome’s loyalty to and enthusiastic praise of Chetwynd did not surprise her, as she knew he was devoted to his master. It occurred to her that Chetwynd probably felt the same about his young squire. They clearly had a long history together, and her carelessness had put the lad in danger.
“I’m sorry I dragged you into the mess I made, Jerome.” Isabel was embarrassed when she heard her voice crack as she spoke. She hoped Jerome couldn’t tell she was fighting tears. It was one thing to endanger her own life by her carelessness, but the fact that she had done the same to Jerome was unforgivable.
“I wasn’t dragged, my lady. I begged Lord Chetwynd to let me search for clues. You escaped from the outlaws, and together we’ll find our way to the convent.”
When Isabel was silent, he said, “Tell me something about your life, my lady.”
Isabel smiled at his obvious ploy to distract her, but she couldn’t think of anything in her life that would interest Jerome. Then she suddenly remembered that there was one story that might appeal to him.
“There is one tale I can tell you. It happened when I was your age, and like your story, it had to do with the first time I met Lord Chetwynd.”
“You met my lord when you were twelve?”
“Maybe met is not the correct word.” She wondered if Chetwynd had told anyone that he knew her. It was unlikely, since it hardly qualified as a meeting. She had been unconscious at the time.
“Lord Chetwynd was a soldier with Lord Malorvic, and they were coming back from a tour of duty on the Spanish March, just like this time. He was fairly young himself then. Do you know Lord Malorvic?”
“No, my lady. Ingram told me Chetwynd formed his own troop shortly before they found me.”
“Well, Lord Malorvic had some unruly soldiers in his company, and four of them came upon my friend Emma and me when we were gathering flowers in the meadow. Emma was smart enough to run away, but I was too stubborn to see the danger.”
Isabel suddenly wondered why she had started this story. She certainly didn’t want to tell Jerome about being attacked by soldiers. All she had planned was to relate an adventure and maybe have an excuse to talk about Chetwynd. Now it was too late to stop, as Jerome was clearly intrigued.
“Two of the soldiers started teasing me.” She had hoped to play down the horror of the attack by her use of words, but she could tell by Jerome’s gasp that he suspected what really happened. The lad had seen more of cruelty than she had.
“You were attacked by those soldiers,” he said, clearly shocked.
“Yes, but just by one. He hit me when I tried to escape and knocked me to the ground, but Lord Chetwynd came to my rescue before anything could happen. My vision was blurred, perhaps by the blow, and all I could see was his long, golden hair shining in the sunlight. It seemed like there was a halo above his head, and I thought he was an angel come to save me. I passed out, and Lord Chetwynd carried me to Emma’s cottage so her mother could tend my wound.”
“Is that how you got the scar on your forehead?” he asked in an awed whisper.
“That’s right. I didn’t see Chetwynd again until you arrived at my father’s manor. In fact, I never even knew his name or what happened to him. And all this time he was a good friend of my brother’s.”
“I’m glad Lord Chetwynd was there, my lady.”
Jerome’s solemn tone told her he understood what could have happened to her. “Yes, I was fortunate. But I wish I had met him then. He was gone by the time I recovered. All I remembered was seeing an angel. I made the mistake of telling my friend Emma about it. She teased me for years.”
Jerome laughed then. “I’m sure Lord Chetwynd never told anyone you called him an angel.”
“I suppose not.” Isabel was pleased that she had succeeded in making Jerome laugh. Then she noticed that she could actually see him smiling. They had made it through the night.
Since they hadn’t heard anything more from the outlaws, Jerome suggested they venture outside. “I’ll see if their horses are tethered by the cave,”
