Just as I wonder what he thinks I will be doing this entire time, he shoots me a long, intense look. “But take Lucinda with you.”
“What?” I stare at him in horror.
Jorn and Tomas exchange a glance, then look to Shrewsbury, who nods his agreement.
“You hay-wit! Just because those cowards are leaving you to fight alone doesn’t mean I will.”
Maraud grabs me by the arm and walks me away from the others. “Stop it.” He gives my arm a shake. “D’Albret wants me. Not you. They may hurt me, but they’ll keep me alive because their lord wants me alive. I can’t guarantee they’ll grant you the same courtesy.”
I will not accept this. Not accept that I am powerless to help.
“Lucinda, these men are capable of terrible cruelty. You’ve seen them fight. You’ve seen how little they care for fairness or honor. I assure you, they are capable of many vile things. Things I could not bear any woman to suffer, especially not you.”
I open my mouth to argue, but Maraud tightens his grip on my arm and thrusts me at Jorn. “Take her away from here. Now.”
He strides over to his horse and vaults into the saddle. “Hurry,” he says. “They are almost at the fork. Best if they don’t see you. If they do, they might not be able to resist giving chase.”
That spurs the men to action. Jorn picks me up, carries me over to Gallopine, and dumps me in the saddle. Tomas has already mounted and draws alongside me. “You know he is right about this,” he says. “Can we trust you to come of your own accord, or must I take control of your reins?”
“I’ll come willingly,” I promise even while plotting a way to get free. Not because I am stupid—Maraud is right. I do not want to imagine the cruelty Pierre could inflict. But it is my fault he must face them at all. I may have freed him from the oubliette, but I also put him in d’Albret’s path.
He also did not ask for the antidote, which disturbs me. Does he not intend to be taken alive?
Fortunately, Shrewsbury’s men are focused on getting their lord to safety and their allegiance to Maraud is slim. A quarter mile down the road, when I turn Gallopine and head back, there is only a halfhearted protest.
Tomas alone rides after me—hoping to stop me, I think. Until he unhooks one of the crossbows from his saddle and holds it out to me. “Here. You will need this.”
As I take it from him, he gives me a nod, then turns to catch up to the others.
?Chapter 78
’Albret’s troops are not yet in sight, so I steer Gallopine toward the grove of linden trees and use them to hide my approach. By the time I reach their cover, d’Albret’s men are at the fork. The bulk of their party advances down after us, but a smaller group keeps riding north. Are they heading to Tours on other business? Or planning to surround us?
I rein Gallopine in, slip silently from her back, and tie her to a nearby trunk. Taking Tomas’s crossbow and my sword, I use the trees to conceal my movements and work my way back to where I last saw Maraud. He did not stand still as we rode away, but turned off onto the verge and headed north, making for the granite stones. Best to face one’s enemies with something solid at your back. Or mayhap he knows it is a strategy of theirs to attempt to surround their quarry and thought to neutralize that possibility.
I pick a spot well hidden among the trees, drop to the ground, and remove the four bolts attached to the crossbow’s frame. Opening the pouch at my waist, I grab a handful of the wax pearls. I am a good enough shot with a bow, but it takes an excellent shot and a good dose of luck to make every shot a killing one. It will not hurt to increase my odds.
I stab a pearl onto the point of one of the bolts, then smear it over the tip, careful to avoid getting any on my fingers. When I glance up, d’Albret’s men have reached our watering spot and Maraud’s trail. I hastily grab three more pearls, smear the rest of the crossbow bolts, then snap them back in place.
Over a dozen hoofbeats thud along the dirt. Under the cover of their noise, I leap to my feet, crossbow cocked and ready, and weave my way toward the clearing.
With a suddenness that is so unexpected it feels shocking, the churning hooves come to a stop. Thick silence follows.
“Gentlemen.” Maraud’s jaunty voice cuts through the menacing silence. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“He said you’d be expecting us.”
“He was wrong.”
As they talk, I resume my creeping. I am nearly in position. And once I can see them, I can shoot them.
“He also said there’d be a girl with you.”
“She and I parted ways back in Poitiers.”
“And yet you rode out from Poitiers with a party of six.”
Figs! They’ve been tailing us that long.
“How brave of you to make your move when I am alone.”
At last I reach the second row of trees before the valley. Maraud and Mogge are up against the granite drop with twelve—no, fifteen—mounted soldiers in front of him. They are in a V-shaped formation, with three men facing him and the rest lined up behind them.
“It is only you our lord wants. You should feel flattered.”
“As a rabbit feels flattered when surrounded by a pack of jackals.”
“Watch your tongue.”
What is Maraud’s strategy? He must have one in mind rather than simply inflaming their tempers.
“Can you tell me what this job of your lord’s entails? I’ve many offers for work and would like to weigh them all carefully.”
As the leader opens his mouth to answer, Maraud draws his sword and charges, catching the knights off-guard.
But I am ready. Using the distraction of his charge, I fire the first bolt, aiming for the man closest to me. It catches him in the shoulder. Not a killing blow—except for the poison.
I get a second shot off, this time hitting my target in the chest. The fall from his horse calls the attention of the others from the fight in front of them to the downed knights.
My third shot pierces a soldier’s thigh and someone calls out a warning. Nearly out of time, I fire my fourth bolt, striking one of the men in the arm. He plucks it out and turns his horse toward me before the poison takes hold.
I must leave. Now. I have increased Maraud’s chances—it is only one against eleven—no nine, he has already killed two himself—instead of one against fifteen.
Three of the soldiers break out of formation and head for the trees behind me, trying to cut off my escape route. I quickly calculate how long it will take to reach Gallopine—too long. I swear in annoyance and draw my sword and dagger.