To her right, a man stood holding a longbow with an arrow at the ready, the string pulled taut. Then she saw whom he was aiming at. Lord le Wyse stood in the doorway of his home, the heavy wooden door open behind him.
“No!” she screamed. The archer let the arrow fly, and her heart stopped beating. With a sickening, high-pitched whoosh, it sliced through the air toward Lord le Wyse and struck his leg, propelling him back against the door.
Chapter
20
From where she was at the bottom of the hill, Annabel could see the bright red blood on his leg.
She screamed, and Lord le Wyse looked away from the mob.
“Annabel!” he yelled savagely. “Get away from here!”
She ignored his command and pushed her horse up the hill, ignoring the shouts from the angry villagers. At the top, a few feet from the front door, she jumped from the horse’s back. Lord le Wyse’s hose was torn at his outer thigh. Blood trickled out from the tear. She flung herself at him, grabbing his arms and tugging him inside. She kicked the door shut behind them.
Dropping to her knees beside his injured leg, she ripped the hole in his hose wider. “Oh, thank you, God.” It was only a nick, not very deep.
“Annabel, get up and get out of here.” His voice was gruff. He grabbed her by her elbows and pulled her to her feet. “Get away from here before you get hurt.” His face was dark and angry.
“No. I won’t let them hurt you.”
“You will, because it doesn’t matter.” He let go of her and turned away. His features were anguished as he ran his good hand through his hair, and his voice was rough. “You should be on your way to the abbey by now. I don’t want you injured because of me.” He turned back to her and grabbed her shoulders. “Don’t you understand? They have come here to kill me. There is nothing you can do.”
“Your men are coming. I told them to come with their weapons — “
“I will stop them.” He took a step to the door and started to open it.
“No! They’ll kill you!” She grabbed his hand to stop him.
“They will kill my men! I can’t let them do that.”
Without any clear plan, Annabel jerked the door open and stepped out.
“Stop, Annabel!”
She ignored Lord le Wyse’s command. Men were streaming out from the trees and from the road into the glade below, brandishing weapons and torches. The workers also came, flooding in from around the back of the house, their own weapons at the ready.
Annabel stood with one hand palm out and the other on her hip as Lord le Wyse came to stand beside her, his hand on her arm, probably ready to yank her back inside at any moment.
The villagers’ faces twisted with hate and anger. Their teeth showed as they shouted epithets of rage toward her and Lord le Wyse. The workers raised their various weapons over their heads, but it was clear Lord le Wyse’s fears were founded. The workers were outmatched and disorganized.
Annabel cried out in her loudest voice, “Desist! I have something to say!”
The shouting quieted, but the looks of rage remained.
“What are you doing here with your torches and implements of war?”
Tom atte Water strutted forward, thrusting his torch over his head. “We are here to right the wrongs made against us by this man, Ranulf le Wyse. He deserves to die!”
The men roared behind him as they all raised their weapons and shouted their agreement.
In a strong, steady voice, she yelled, “Your lord has done nothing worthy of death.”
A few of them roared back at her, Tom the loudest, his curses and sneers personal.
God, help me. What shall I say now?
Her brain registered the words, I will be with you. For it is not you who shall speak.
“Will you kill your own lord for crimes he has not committed?” She stared them down, making eye contact with one villager, then another. “Will you kill a man who had been kind to you? Who of you has not benefited from your lord’s kindness? Who among you was able to replace the grain burned in the barn fire? Your lord did this — the man, Ranulf le Wyse.”
They lowered their weapons and torches. Some of the men’s faces softened. Annabel drew courage and went on.
“Would a man who had burned your grain buy new grain so you wouldn’t starve? Furthermore, has our lord not rescued you from the dishonest conniving of both the miller and the butcher? Who of you has not benefited from paying a fair price for your bread, for the first time in more years than any of you can remember? God has helped you — through Lord le Wyse!”
“Are you going to listen to this — this chit?” Tom yelled, turning to face the mob. “What has God done for you? For any of you?”
“Pray, let me speak!”
“Let her speak!” a carter from the village shouted.
Without waiting for further permission, Annabel pressed on. “Tom atte Water has spoken evil of your lord, and wrongly! You have let him lead you astray. If you were injured, had lost your eye in an accident, would you want someone saying you were cursed?”