Wildewood Revenge Read online

  “You see, my lady, you have the devil’s hair and our mutual acquaintance, Philibutt of Mayflower has unfortunately marked you as a witch. I have my orders to take you to Ahlborett Castle for trial. Sir Gerard awaits us.”

  He marvelled at how her pupils dilated with shock, and the way she fearfully moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. It gave him an urge which he toyed with. Did he have the time, he wondered, to take her, here in the forest? It seemed such a waste not to; after all if she were found guilty she would burn regardless.

  “Of course if it were up to me,” he added with a sigh, “I would endeavour to save you from the flames, but alas I am merely a tool of my lord.”

  She tried to snatch the reins back once more but he retained a firm grip and merely shook his head and tutted at her.

  “Now that’s not going to work, is it?” he said patiently. “I’m bigger and stronger than you.”

  Grace glanced about her frantically and Guy watched as her panic rose along with his arousal.

  “At the end of the day, my lady, you will be coming with me. What you must decide is whether we leave the forest as friends or enemies.” He leaned towards her conspiratorially. “A word of advice, Gracie - may I call you Gracie? It has a certain ring to it. Anyway, as I was saying, friend is always better than enemy. I’m sure Miles would vouch for that. He knows first-hand what happens to my enemies.” He smiled at her. “As friends we could amuse each other, I could even offer you a character reference when the bishop and his inquisitors come a calling. But as an enemy, well as an enemy, I am sorry to say I would be more inclined to light the pyre beneath your feet when they tie you to the stake. Take it from me, friend is more useful to both of us.”

  Grace stared open mouthed, as the colour drained from her cheeks.

  “Our ecclesiastical friend Mayflower tells me you’re warming Miles’ bed, if it is pleasure you seek then you need look no further. As a friend I can guarantee you a far more exiting ride than you’ll get with your protector Miles. I confess, I prefer a more voluptuous maid, but I find you refreshingly different and it interests me to know what Miles finds attractive in you.”

  Grace took a ragged breath. “After that little speech I assume you must be Guy, the man who bullies little boys. Miles did mention you.” She glared at him but he merely grinned.

  “Is that not what little boys are for? Little boys grow into little men unless their mettle is tested as a child. I merely provide them with adequate tuition.”

  “You are evil,” she declared.

  “Oh yes, definitely...,” he replied with a smirk. “Deliciously so...”

  “Let me go, now. Miles will not be far away and when he finds you, I’ll not be responsible for what he’ll do.”

  Guy laughed out loud. “Do you hear that boys? Miles is coming to get us....Are we fearful?” He turned back to Grace. “I have already beaten Miles once. Perhaps he neglected to tell you that?”

  “He told me you came in the night like a sneak thief. Were you scared to meet him face to face, Guy?”

  Guy narrowed his eyes shrewdly. “It’s called cunning, knowing thy enemy, and anyway, I still beat him. And while we’re on the subject of your lover, have you ever seen a knight with more scars? It rather begs one to question his prowess on the battlefield. I shall be generous and we shall call him a trifle clumsy.”

  “If you’d beaten him he would not still be alive,” snapped Grace.

  Guy snorted dismissively.

  “If you had beaten him he would not be standing behind you now.”

  Guy turned instinctively and in that instance Grace swung out with her makeshift whip and struck him across the face. She yanked at the reins and the filly squealed angrily, but still Guy held on and with a howl he turned and she took the full force of the back of his hand across her cheek. The blow was enough to unseat her and she tumbled backwards from the saddle, landing in a painful heap on the forest floor.

  Guy dismounted slowly and stood over her where she lay in the dirt. The angry red mark of the whip marred his perfect face. His smile gone, his eyes were cold and cruel. He shook his head in disbelief at her daring.

  “You should not have done that, witch. Did you not understand my explanation of friends and enemies, about making the right choice?” He shrugged and began to unfasten his belt.

  “No matter. Enemy works for me.”

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  The ground was damp beneath her. The smell of leaf mould and decay filled her nostrils, permeating her senses and dragging her back to the time in the wood when the arrow had claimed her. Grace felt her heart rate hike, and nausea born of fear churned inside. She remembered Miles’ words: don’t let him get you on your back. She tried to wriggle away before he dropped his weight upon her.

  “Hold her.” Guy barked the command to his men who covered the distance from their horses to grab her arms and hold her down. Grace swallowed the screams that welled from deep inside. She instinctively knew that revealing her fear would feed Guy’s warped fantasy and incite him all the more. She was defenceless against one, never mind three, but she struggled nevertheless, terror lending strength to her puny efforts.

  “Let me go,” she snarled. “Let me go, or you’ll really find out if I’m a witch or not? Do you want your pricks to shrivel and drop off?”

  The men holding her arms immediately let go and jumped back. “For God’s sake she’s no witch,” shouted Guy in frustration. “She’s a little whore with paint in her hair.”

  * * *

  “Let her go.” Miles’ voice rang out clear and strong immediately behind Guy. Grace almost sobbed with relief. “Let her go and step away, Guy,” he repeated. Guy took a step back, his hands in the air.

  “Are you well, Grace?” Miles asked calmly. “Has he hurt you?”

  Grace struggled to her feet. She was dishevelled and her right cheek had begun to swell but she favoured him with a brave smile. “I’m fine, Miles,” she answered weakly.

  He momentarily slid his gaze from Guy and assessed her. What he saw reassured him and strengthened his resolve. He felt the sliver of something decidedly bad begin to weave its way through him and he tightened his grip on the bow. He had an arrow aimed at the back of Guy’s head, the string of the bow taut, the arrow ready to launch. He steadied his breath. She had scared him and he hadn’t been scared for a long time. Hearing the commotion as the pony bolted he’d been too late to stop Guy. Instead he watched and positioned himself with one arrow ready, but knew by the time he released it and readied to fire another, he would be taken down by one of Guy’s men.

  “Get behind me, Grace,” he called and Grace gingerly stepped past Guy.

  “You can’t take all three of us, Miles,” taunted Guy. “And when you go down, be assured your little whore will follow.”

  “You tried to put me down once before, Guy. You couldn’t do it then, and you certainly aren’t going to do it now.” Miles flicked a glance at Grace. She was moving too hesitantly and remained far too close to Guy. Her fear was palpable. She was still in danger.

  Guy locked eyes with Miles and inclined his head suggestively. “Does she whimper in your bed, Miles?”

  “You will whimper, Guy,” snarled Miles. “You will whimper and beg, before I’m finished with you.”

  Guy shifted his gaze to Percy whose hand hovered over the knife at his belt. He raised a brow and Miles amended his aim. The arrow struck Percy in the chest and he thudded to the ground.

  Taking the opportunity of Miles’ distraction, Guy made a grab for Grace, pulling her against him, one arm tightly round her waist, the other at her throat, his own knife now in his hand and pressed against her soft skin. He spun round to face Miles, but he was no longer there.

  “Where did he go?” he snarled at Simon, who had dropped to the ground for cover.

  “I know not, my lord. One moment he was there, the next he was gone. There is witchcraft afoot.” He cast a wary eye about the clearing.

  �
��Forget witches, you sorry son of a pox ridden whore. Find the bastard or it will be you who will burn.” He spun around, dragging Grace with him as he scoured the trees for a trace of movement.

  “I’ll slit her throat right here if you don’t show yourself,” Guy spat into the surrounding woods. “Or maybe I’ll have her first. Would you prefer me to do that, Miles?” Grace struggled vainly against him. “Would you like to witness how loudly she whimpers when I take my pleasure...?” He increased the pressure of the blade and her pale skin pricked with the crimson of fresh blood.

  Simon fell a moment later with an arrow in his chest and a dull thud as he hit the ground. Neither he nor Percy remained of any further use to Guy. Miles stepped out from behind a tree and held the bow out to his side.

  “Let her go, Guy, she is not part of our fight.” He called on his reserves of self-control and hung tightly to the bitterness which swirled in his head and pulsed through his veins. He could not bear to see the man near her, let alone with his hands upon her. His eyes locked on the trickle of blood at her throat.

  “Ah, but that is where you’re wrong, Miles. She is at the very centre. Gerard reckons you are all in league with each other. You, Hugh and the king. She is the glue which holds you together, the power keeping you alive and invincible. He intends to cut off your power source. He plans to burn her as a witch. He awaits the bishop as we speak.”

  “That will never happen, Guy, and you know it. Let her go and I’ll give you your fight if that’s what you want. Fair and square. Just you and me. Not a sword in the belly in the middle of the night but one on one, hand to hand combat here and now.” He glanced at Grace and held himself in check. “Whoever wins takes the girl.”

  “Do you think I’m a fool? As soon as I release her, you’ll put an arrow through my heart.”

  “No, I won’t,” said Miles. “You have my word, as a knight.” He placed the bow on the ground before him, and Grace stared at him, open mouthed.

  Miles knew Guy thought him the fool for giving up his advantage, as if he didn’t realise the knife currently pressed against Grace’s tender flesh could just as easily be flung at his own chest after slitting her throat. He was, however, wagering that Guy would be unable to resist the lure of a fight which he was sure he would win.

  “It seems your lover is keen to be rid of you my dear.” Guy pushed Grace to the ground and turned a cold glare on Miles. “I will happily take her off your hands when you lie beaten and bloody on the ground. The last thing you will see in this life will be me thrusting between her thighs.”

  “Grace, wait by the horses,” called Miles with a reassuring nod. He clenched his fists as he shot Guy a murderous look. He had an urge to cut out the man’s tongue. “We will be leaving soon.”

  “Oh, the confidence of the man,” laughed Guy as they circled each other. Miles did not share his laughter. A cold calculating look transformed his face as he sized up his opponent and unsheathed his sword.

  Miles bided his time while Grace moved the filly alongside his own horse, standing beneath the trees away from the ensuing fight. He watched her edge carefully past Guy’s fallen men. When he judged her to be safe he turned his attention back to his opponent and began.

  Each held their sword in a two handed grip. Guy advanced first and swung for Miles. The weight of the parried sword caused Miles to steady his stance following the blow.

  “You see, Miles, you are getting too old for this,” taunted Guy. “Give up now and I shall kill you swiftly and save you the sight of me taking your whore.”

  Miles brought his sword down and then, Guy too, was required to defend himself from the weight of the blow. The inertia knocked the breath from him, momentarily silencing his taunts.

  “With age comes experience, Guy. Experience and intelligence. You have neither.”

  Guy sneered.

  “Intelligence? You had the chance to kill me with your bow and declined. Where is the sense in that?”

  Miles shook his head derisively. “You have neither brains nor the stamina for the game, Guy, admit it.” Miles was the stronger. He assumed he would soon have Guy beaten, but the swordplay went on at length without either man seeming to take the advantage. Guy was the more agile and, despite his bravado, Miles began to favour one side, protecting his belly from a further blow, conscious of a weakness and unwilling to allow Guy to monopolise on it. Yet, Miles’ own skill with the sword was second to none and Guy spent a great deal of his time and energy avoiding the weight of the blade. On balance it was an even match and Miles wondered how long they could realistically keep it up. He needed to change his tactics.

  Miles caught Guy off guard and ripped Guy’s sword from his hand, sending it crashing to the ground. He paused and both men took ragged, desperate breaths. A sudden stillness encompassed the clearing. The horses stilled and Grace closed her eyes, the fight had reached a conclusion.

  “Come, Guy,” taunted Miles as he dropped his own sword and gestured with his open palms. “I said it would be a fair fight. Not scared to get up close are you?”

  Guy spat venomously on the ground before Miles. “Scared of a bastard like you? I think not, Miles.” He charged at him. Miles sidestepped him easily and landed a crushing kidney punch that left Guy gasping. Guy caught his breath, hands on his knees while Miles waited. When he swung round and launched his return attack, Miles was ready and sent him sprawling.

  “You’ll have to do better than that,” said Miles and then regretted his jibe when Guy rose up catching him on the side of the jaw with a gloved fist. He felt his teeth rattle. He caught hold of Guy by the shoulders and head butted him. Guy’s nose burst in a spray of blood as did Miles’ brow; the blow merely served to inflame Guy further. He flew into an undisciplined manic rage landing punch after punch, until one lucky blow caught Miles in the belly and he dropped to his knees, clutching his abdomen.

  Guy whooped with delight. He aimed a kick which caught Miles cruelly under his chin and sent his head flicking back. Miles lay for a moment, stunned. Pain and rage swirled madly together. His vision blurred but his focus remained intact. He shook his head, swung his gaze as he sought to clear his vision and caught a glimpse of Grace’s terrified face.

  “Is that good enough for you?” taunted Guy and he landed another booted foot in the small of Miles’ back. Miles rolled over with a groan. He needed to finish this quickly.

  Guy continued to circle him, landing a kick at his shoulder, another on the side of his head. Grace stepped forward, away from the safety of the tethered horses, as he delivered a further brutal kick. Miles groaned, aware, despite his condition, that Grace was vulnerable and Guy, so easily distracted. He expected her to do something foolish, he willed her to desist. He had everything in hand.

  Miles watched in dismay as she ran to where his sword lay in the dirt and grasped it with both hands. She tried to lift the weapon but struggled to manage the weight. All she could do was drag it along the ground. He opened his mouth to deliver a warning and received a further kick to his belly which knocked the words and what was left of his breath right out of his mouth. He focused on her again as she lifted the sword and attempted to swing it at Guy. Guy ducked out of her way and as the effort of the swing spun her round, he put his foot on her derriere and sent her sprawling.

  “Got your little lady fighting your battles for you now, Miles, what is the world coming to?” Guy aimed another kick at Miles prone body.

  All the while, Miles waited and he took the blows. Then, when it appeared by his stillness that he had lost consciousness, Guy made to kick him again and Miles caught hold of his booted foot with both hands, one at the heel and the other at the toe, and with a quick twist of his wrists and a considerable amount of strength, he snapped Guy’s ankle with a satisfying crunch. Guy’s scream of pain resonated throughout the forest. Grace stifled a sob and ran to Miles.

  Struggling to rise, he waved Grace away as she tried to help him. His face was slick with blood. One eye was swollen shut and
he spat blood onto the ground. With difficulty he stooped, picked up his sword and bow, and straightened himself before walking slowly to where Guy writhed on the ground. He held the point of the sword at Guy’s throat and allowed its own weight to indent into the soft flesh.

  “Take a message to Gerard,” he growled.

  Guy opened his eyes and captured Miles with a malevolent glare.

  “Tell him that Miles of Wildewood is back - and I will have justice.”

  Despite much verbal abuse, Miles ensured all three men were secured in their saddles before he applied a whip to the horse’s rumps and sent them back to Ahlborett. Finally he turned to look at Grace.

  She had placed herself in danger to try and protect him but it could have gone terribly wrong. He drew an arm around her shoulder and tucked her into his side.

  “We must get back, it will soon be dark.” He was weary, his body racked with pain.

  “We can’t go back,” cried Grace, “Not yet, the boys are missing. I came to look for them, I called for them, I looked everywhere, I couldn’t find them. They could be out here, lost.”

  Miles attempted a tired smile. Edmund was correct. She had not been leaving him. “The boys never left Wildewood.”

  “But Belle...”

  “Belle deceived you.”

  “Why? Why would she do that,” she faltered. “I could have been killed...You could have been killed.”

  He shrugged painfully. “Who knows what goes on in her head, I certainly don’t. Her grandmother will no doubt get to the bottom of it.” He glanced at the darkening sky. “We must leave now; I will not relax until you are safe within the walls of Wildewood.” The wound dissecting his eyebrow reopened and he wiped the blood from his eye with the back of his hand.