By Queen's Grace. Shari Anton

pasthim-eyes forward, chin tilted upward, lips pursed-as if he didn’t exist. His saying her name brought no reaction, not even a hitch in her purposeful stride. All thoughts of thanking her for her tender care of Ardith had fled, and he’d carried that memory of her with him out the abbey door and through the years.

      Then today he’d seen her temper-fiery indignation expressed with flashing eyes and vivid threats. No meek girl in evidence there! No haughty royal heiress, either. Simply a woman promising retribution for the wrong done to her.

      Corwin smiled at the thought of Thurkill and his lord expecting Judith to meekly accept her fate. She found the, thought of being used to further the rebel lord’s aims abhorrent, and would fight.

      But then, a woman’s protests against ill use usually went unheard by men greedy for power and wealth. Corwin knew of several ways a woman could be forced to marry against her will, and no doubt the rebel leader planned to use such force against Judith if necessary.

      Not that Corwin would allow it, or even let the situation advance so far. No matter what Judith truly thought of him, he wouldn’t let the rebel leader abuse her. Once he learned the name of the leader and the location of the rebel camp, he and Judith would be off to London-Corwin to inform the king of the uprising, Judith to return to the protection of her royal family.

      ‘Twas best, for now, if she believed him to be a beast. He could only hope that when he found the right time to tell her of his true purpose, she would believe him and cooperate.

      

      Corwin led the company out of the forest and onto the narrow dirt road. After clearing the woods, he moved his horse aside to allow Thurkill to take the lead. As Corwin suspected he would, the man headed north toward Oxford. Likely they would travel far beyond the city, for no man could gather an army large enough to challenge the king within southern England without someone noticing. In the wilds of the far north, however, no one would be the wiser. Too, the men of that region had always been the most eager to challenge the Normans.

      Corwin gave a brief thought to the company he’d led out of Wilmont, and hoped William would do as commanded and escort the wagons, lumber and carpenters to Cotswold. Then Corwin slid into line several paces behind Thurkill, knowing Gerard would approve of his abandoning that duty to take on this task of higher purpose.

      Thurkill set a lively pace up the rough road, merely a wide path of dirt deeply rutted by wagon wheels. Corwin kept watch on Judith, who rode pillion behind Thurkill, just as he knew the two men behind him watched his every move.

      As the morning wore on, watching Judith bounce on the horse’s rump became harder. She would be sore this night, as she’d been sore the night before. There was no help for it. To evade the sheriff, they must keep up the pace.

      Nearing midday, Judith’s right hand released its hold on Thurkill’s hauberk. She made a fist and hit him hard on the shoulder. Corwin bit back a smile. Had Thurkill refused a request to halt one too many times?

      Corwin urged his destrier forward to come alongside Thurkill. “I know of a cave not far ahead where we might take a rest.”

      “I have no wish to rest. The sheriff-”

      “Will not find us there. ‘Tis a truly secluded site.” Corwin shrugged, as if uncaring one way or the other. “I think of your horse, Thurkill. He carries a greater burden than the others. But if you wish to go on, I will not object”

      “Aye, think of your horse, Thurkill,” Judith said in a sarcastic tone. “Thisburden he carries would be most pleased to cease bruising his boney backside.”

      Thurkill rolled his eyes heavenward. Had Judith been giving the man an earful of complaints and snide remarks all morning? Possibly.

      The victim of a kidnapping, Judith had every right to protest. Her mind-numbing, hand-trembling terror had passed, but not her fear. She used anger to mask it, but Corwin didn’t want her to goad Thurkill too hard. The man might be under orders to bring her safely to his lord, but every man had his limits. Coping for hours on end with Judith’s sharp tongue might be more than Thurkill could tolerate.

      “The cave is but a few minutes away if you care for a respite,” Corwin said.

      Thurkill studied him for a moment. “How do I know you do not lead us into the sheriff’s snare?”

      “You do not know if I lead you into a trap, just as I do not. know if you lead me into one at journey’s end. You will have to trust my word.”

      “Humph. How does one villain learn to trust another?” Judith interjected. “Neither of you deserves anyone’s trust.”

      Through clenched teeth, Thurkill ordered, “Find the cave.”

      After a few moments of searching, Corwin found the overgrown path he sought, and at its end, the cave. Brush hid the mouth of the cavern located halfway up a steep hill. A stream bubbled along at the base. The narrow sloping path from the stream to the cave proved a challenge for the horses, but all made it up without incident.

      Corwin dismounted, planning to help Judith down from Thurkill’s horse. Oswuld beat him to it. ‘Twasprobably for the best. The less he had to deal with Judith just now, the better. Her hands pressed into her back, she walked stiffly toward the mouth of the cave, with Oswuld a step behind her.

      “How know you this place?” Duncan asked, his voice echoing in the large chamber. “‘Tisrather far from where you say you live.”

      Corwin noted the suspicious undertone in Duncan’s question. “‘Tis far, but a friend and I once used this cave to shelter from a storm. Luckily, Stephen knew of its existence.”

      “Thiscompanion you speak of must travel much to know of so remote a spot.”

      Corwin slid his hands from his riding gloves, thinking of Stephen, his best friend and Gerard’s youngest brother. Aye, Stephen liked to travel, rush headlong into one adventure after the other. Corwin had gleefully joined him on several of his journeys.

      “He does love to travel, more than most men I know.”

      Duncan huffed. “He must be a Norman, then, to have the coin and time to waste roaming about the land.”

      Stephen did, but on that particular journey Stephen had performed a valuable service for Gerard, and Richard, their half brother. Having acquired several new holdings in a court judgment, Gerard had given most of the land to his brothers. Stephen had offered to visit all the holdings, determine the condition of each, then report on which needed repairs or where the people needed immediate assistance.

      The Norman who’d previously owned the lands had been a cruel man, and Corwin saw firsthand how the peasants had suffered, then witnessed their joy when told they’d been placed under Wilmont protection. None had truly cared which brother became overlord. Each man had a reputation for fairness, even benevolence.

      True, most Normans looked to their own wealth and comfort and never noticed any hardship suffered by the people who provided for them. Telling Duncan that some Normans could be generous and honorable, however, wouldn’t aid Corwin’s ruse.

      “Aye, the Normans are a selfish, cruel race,” Corwin proclaimed. “‘Twas a sad day for England when King Harold lost the battle to Duke William of Normandy.”

      Duncan’s mouth twisted into a sneer. “When the bastard invaded England he killed or maimed all who would not submit to his rule, burned crops and forests and huts at will until those country folk left could barely survive. A sad day for England, indeed.”

      Corwin now knew with certainty from where Duncan hailed. Only in the far north had the Conqueror taken such drastic measures to bring the old Saxon earls to heel. Corwin’s ancestors hadn’t joined in any rebellion, but had accepted the Conqueror as king and pledged fealty to the man the new king declared their overlord. The transfer of power had been peaceful, so unlike the experience of Duncan’s family.

      Corwin laid a hand on his destrier’s neck, a fine example of Wilmont’s herd. He’d