But de Wolfe looked like he’d stepped out of some other world. He was a big man, bigger than any man she’d ever seen, with fists the size of her head. He had a square-jawed face that was handsome enough but when he smiled – and she’d only seen it once, just a flash to one of his men – his face changed dramatically. It was enough to make her heart skip a beat.
But those were foolish thoughts, to be sure, and she was frustrated at herself for thinking them. She refused to admit that her Norman enemy had her intrigued. Therefore, she returned her focus to the encampment in the distance, watching men move about, trying to single out anyone she knew, especially Alary. It was mid-morning by now and she knew he would be up and about, prowling, scheming. What worried her the most was what had become of de Lohr. She couldn’t see him from where she sat. It was imperative she locate him.
“Lady Ghislaine.”
Startled by her whispered name, Ghislaine turned to see de Wolfe standing behind her with one of his men alongside. It was the same man who had offered to negotiate for de Lohr, as a man of the church, although she didn’t know his name. She didn’t know any of their names. De Wolfe and the man crouched down a few feet away to be more on her level.
“This is Jathan,” de Wolfe said quietly. “He is my priest. Jathan offered himself up as a prisoner once before and he has done it again, so I have agreed. I believe the best plan of action would be for you to enter the encampment with Jathan as your captive. If your absence has been discovered, you can simply say you were hunting for Norman prisoners on the battlefield. Is that something your men would believe?”
Ghislaine nodded. “I believe so,” she said. “I mentioned that it is possible my absence has not even been noticed, but if it has, it will make it seem as if I am telling the truth when I bring a Norman captive with me.”
De Wolfe lifted an eyebrow in agreement although he didn’t seem to be overly enthusiastic about his priest offering himself up as a prisoner. That much had been obvious earlier in the tent when the same discussion had come up, but clearly, de Wolfe had reconsidered that. He glanced at the priest as he spoke.
“It is hoped that Jathan will be taken to where de Lohr is so he can help Kristoph when the time comes to free him,” he said. “Mayhap, you can tell your brother you have brought him another prisoner. A gift, as it were. Surely he would take him to where his other prisoners are being held.”
Ghislaine looked at the priest. “That is a reasonable certainty,” she said hesitantly. “But Alary will not care that he is a priest. He will treat him like any other prisoner.”
De Wolfe nodded. “That is the hope.”
Ghislaine cast him a long look. “You must be careful what you hope for. You do not know how my brother is.”
De Wolfe cocked his head. “Nay, I do not, but I have been a warrior my entire life and I have seen the wicked souls of men. Jathan knows the risks.”
Ghislaine’s focus settled on the priest, who seemed resolute about the situation. There was no fear in his eyes and Ghislaine was sure the man had no idea what he was getting in to, but she didn’t argue. It was a plan that made sense and now it was time to act, for time was growing short. The longer they waited, the more chance there was of Alary leaving the camp and taking de Wolfe’s knight with him. Rising to her feet, she brushed the dirt and leaves off her leather hose.
“Then I shall take him and discover where my brother is keeping your man,” she said, pulling the leather cap that de Wolfe had yanked off her head, now tucked into the belt at her waist. “I will return as soon as I can.”
De Wolfe and Jathan stood up, too, and de Wolfe’s other men began crowding around now that the first move on the Anglo-Saxon encampment was about to be made. Ghislaine gathered her long hair in one hand and wounded it up sloppily on her head, pulling the cap down over it. Hair stuck out all over the place even as she pulled the ties down around her neck and secured it. Then, she unsheathed a long, sharp dagger that had been tied to her belt and pointed it at Jathan.
“Come with me,” she said to the priest. “And you’d better make it look as if you are afraid of me and my dagger, or this will not go well.”
“Pretend I’m holding a dagger on you, Priest,” Wellesbourne growled from behind de Wolfe. “That should make you scared enough.”
Jathan gave him a rather droll look. “The only thing that scares me about you is your lack of piety, Wellesbourne,” he muttered. “God is going to strike you down one of these days and when he does, I do not wish to be anywhere near you lest we both go up in flames. Shall we depart, my lady?”
Ghislaine could see that the threats bouncing about weren’t serious. Wellesbourne had a hint of a smile on his lips, as did a couple of the other knights, but de Wolfe had no humor on his face. He simply pointed through the bramble.
“Go,” he commanded quietly. When Ghislaine moved forward, he suddenly grabbed her by the arm. “And if you think to betray me and my men by telling your brother that we are gathered in the bramble, know that I will have St. Hèver in the trees with an arrow pointed right at you. He can kill you from quite a distance, so do not make any foolish moves.”
Ghislaine looked at him, a hulking presence in the shadowed trees, and her irritation rose. “So we are back to threats, are we?” she asked, offended. “The fact that I came to you with information about your knight wasn’t enough. The fact that I have risked my life and continue to risk it for a Norman enemy still means nothing to you. Then, by all means, keep your man trained on me and if you believe I am betraying you, then kill me. But you had better make sure you kill me with the first shot because if you do not, I am fairly good with a bow myself and you will be the first one I will come for.”
With that, she shoved Jathan forward, her dagger at his back, and pushed him right through the trees. When he stumbled, she pushed him again, kicking him right in the arse when he turned around to see why she was beating on him so. Together, they burst through the trees and into the clearing beyond, in full view of the Anglo-Saxon encampment about a quarter of a mile away.
Gaetan and his men watched them head off and St. Hèver moved into position with his crossbow, using a tree trunk to steady himself and his weapon. He was aiming right at the lady and her prisoner as the rest of Gaetan’s men slowly moved up to gain a better view of them through the trees.
“I do believe she threatened you,” Luc de Lara muttered to Gaetan.
He snorted. “Aye, she did,” Gaetan replied. “But no more than I threatened her.”
Luc simply nodded, his gaze tracking the woman and the priest, as they all were. “Do you really believe she will betray us?”