“As I said, my name is Ghislaine of Mercia,” she said, her voice a little stronger now as de Wolfe and the other knight, the one who had brought her, glared at her quite seriously. “My brother is Edwin of Mercia. I have another brother, Morcar of Northumbria. Do you recognize these names, my lord?”
She had a very heavy accent but she seemed fluent in their language. De Wolfe nodded. “I do,” he said, displeased. “I recognize the names very well and I can only assume de Lohr has been abducted by your brothers.” Knowing these powerful men were her brothers, he had a suspicion as to her true identity. He would think on that later. For now, he had to know about Kristoph. Have you come to deliver terms of his ransom? Whatever it is, I will pay it.”
Ghislaine could see the man thought that his knight had been abducted only to be ransomed. That was a fairly normal practice in warfare, where men were taken and then returned, unharmed, for a price. She shook her head.
“It is far more complex than that, my lord,” she said. “I am not here to deliver a ransom demand. I am here to tell you that your man is in terrible danger.”
De Wolfe’s brow furrowed. “Danger?” he repeated. “What do you mean?”
Ghislaine sought to explain. “Another brother, known as Alary of Mercia, has taken your knight as a prisoner,” she said. “It is his intention to interrogate your man for information about the Norman army. At least, that is his intention at the moment. I do not know what his intention will be tomorrow or the next day. Already, he has beaten your knight. He is wounded and, if you do not rescue him quickly, I fear he will not survive.”
De Wolfe simply stared at her at moment. But at least his expression wasn’t as hostile as it had been. In fact, he seemed to ponder what he’d been told quite seriously and, in truth, with some disbelief. In warfare, where men were captured and ransomed, to mistreat a prisoner was almost unheard of. Knights, and especially men of wealth, were almost treated as guests in some cases until the ransom was paid. Therefore, de Wolfe was naturally perplexed.
“No ransom?” he clarified.
“No ransom.”
“But he is alive?”
“Alive but wounded. Did you not understand? He is in danger.”
De Wolfe nodded. “I understand,” he said. “So your brother will not demand ransom. What does he want, then?”
“I am not sure if there is anything he wants.”
De Wolfe was growing increasingly confused. “Then why have you come?”
That was a question with a complicated answer, something she didn’t want to divulge at the moment. She thought it might make her appear weak. But the truth was that she had a difficult time coming up with a reasonable explanation.
“It does not matter why I have come, only that I have,” she said. “Do you want your man back or not?”
De Wolfe nodded, slowly, eyeing her most critically, as if he couldn’t quite figure all of this out. “I want him back and I shall have him,” he said. “But if you are the sister of the man who has captured him, as you claim to be, then you will tell me why you are here on behalf of your brother? Why have you even come if he does not wish to ransom my knight?”
Ghislaine averted her gaze, realizing she was going to have to tell the man something of the truth. She suspected he wouldn’t rest until he received some kind of reasonable answer from her, something to satisfy his curiosity. Therefore, she tried not to sound too embarrassed as she spoke.
“I am here because… because I hate my brother,” she muttered. “He is a vile and terrible man. He is so despicable that Edwin exiled him from Mercia for reasons I shall not go in to. But Alary joined with King Harold’s army to fight for the king against the Duke of Normandy and find royal favor, but when that did not happen… now I believe that he views your man as everything he hates.”
De Wolfe wasn’t moved by her speech, but a good deal was becoming clear to him. “Then you come to betray him.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a statement of fact, and a true one. Frustrated that he was pushing her into a more personal confession, her eyes snapped up to him. “I do,” she said angrily. “Your knight was originally my prisoner. I fought with the Saxon army yesterday and I was there when your knight was knocked off his horse. The fall rendered him unconscious so my men and I dragged him away from the field of battle, tied him to a horse, and sent the horse running. But when the horse finally stopped running and many men from Harold’s army were trying to beat your knight to death, I stopped them. I stopped them because… because a knight captured me during the battle. But instead of harming me, he let me go and told me to remember Norman mercy. And I did – I spared his Norman compatriot because of it. Mercy was shown to me, so I showed mercy to the Norman knight. But Alary took your knight away from me for his own devious purposes. Now he has him and I can no longer protect him.”
De Wolfe was simply staring at her but it was apparent that something was going on in his mind. After a moment, he bent over as if to look at her more closely.
“Then I understand why you have come,” he said simply. “But in listening to you speak, something else has occurred to me. I recognize your voice. I believe it threatened me once.”
Ghislaine wasn’t sure what he meant. “We have not met before.”
De Wolfe continued to stare at her until, suddenly, his eyebrows lifted. “The little mouse,” he said as if an idea had occurred to him. “When we broke through the eastern shield wall, I captured you. You called me rubbish.”
Ghislaine’s eyes widened. She well remembered the knight she called poubelle and her mouth popped open. She hadn’t seen his face but now she recognized that voice. Of course she’d heard it before – when he demanded to know where her king was.
It was her merciful knight, in the flesh.
“You!” she gasped. “The Norman knight!”
De Wolfe simply looked at her. “Aye, it is me, the Knight of Rubbish,” he said with some disdain in his voice. “And look at the little mouse; you are punier than I had imagined. Take off that cap and show yourself. You look like a man dressed as you are. Let me see what you really look like.”
Ghislaine looked down at herself. She was, indeed, dressed in a tunic and leather, a belt around her slender waist and hose on her legs. Her hair was still caught up in a heavy leather cap. But that was intentional. It was easier to fight with men if they thought she was one. It was also easier to move among them. As she hesitated to remove her cap, de Wolfe reached out and pulled it from her head.
And that’s when things changed.
Gaetan was quite surprised, really. Off came the cap and out flowed the most beautiful hair he had ever seen. It was mussed and a little dirty. But he could still see the shine even in the dim light as nearly-black hair tumbled over her shoulders, glinting with red. Moreover, once he got a good look at her face, he could see that she was quite beautiful – she had a round little face with rosebud lips and wide blue eyes. When she blinked, her lashes fanned against her pale cheeks. Aye, she was quite beautiful if one could look beyond the muss and dirt. Exquisite, even.