Reckless (Age of Conquest #5) - Tamara Leigh Page 0,1
at the fore down around his shoulders and snow capping his short hair.
They were too distant to look near upon, but so fine were their mounts, they could not be mistaken for mere scouts. And yet, they were without escort.
Is it possible? Vitalis wondered. Since the day past when he sighted the army marching to suppress the Cheshire uprising, several times he had seen their impatient king ride ahead of his forces in the company of his personal guard. If this was William absent his army, then beneath the hood of one of six guards was the chevalier who eluded Vitalis as much as Vitalis eluded him—Sir Maël of the family D’Argent whose young men were known as much for their skill at arms as silvered dark hair that ought to be exclusive to the aged.
Then there was the chevalier’s lone female cousin whose raven-black hair was also marked by silver. Lady Nicola, Vitalis silently named her and recalled the first time the girl dancing toward womanhood had spoken to him—rather, yelled and called him a—
Yanking his thoughts back to the present, he searched beyond the riders. Still no sign of the army.
“I believe that is Le Bâtard,” he said and more greatly resented this sickness that would prevent him and his men from challenging the pompously self-assured conqueror—and possibly ending William’s rule.
“There will come a better time,” Zedekiah said.
Vitalis did not concur. As this opportunity was hardly possible, a better one seemed impossible.
“Accursed flux,” rasped a rebel, and Vitalis was pleased by his disappointment and that of the others who murmured agreement.
His men’s health improved, but they accepted their limitations, all hopeful that by the time they joined the resistance in Cheshire they would be sufficiently recovered to make a difference in ridding England of Normans.
Lord, Vitalis prayed, let them be receptive to reason when I seek to transform men of the sword back into tillers of the earth.
“We should ride,” Zedekiah said.
They should, taking the long way around the gradually ascending mountain through corridors of sheer rock that would aid in remaining out of sight, but…
Vitalis looked between the Normans and the cave which would come to their notice had it not already. The surrounding land being mostly open, it would provide the enemy a safe place to rest while awaiting those who had fallen behind. Rather, safe on the surface.
As it was unlikely they knew of the underground passages, things might be learned by a Saxon willing to make use of the nearest tunnel—something that could give Vitalis cause to lead his men to Cheshire rather than around it.
Ignoring his churning gut and warmth beneath his skin that portended fever, he said, “Ride ahead. I shall rejoin you shortly.”
“What say you?” all demanded, Zedekiah the loudest.
“With the storm abating, they will pause here. Thus, I will enter the cave by way of the tunnel we passed and see if anything can be learned of their plans.”
“That tunnel is unstable,” said the one who had traded the name of Pog for Boar when a sword replaced the scythe with which he harvested wheat. “As told, the earth tremors preceding King Harold’s death weakened it in places, forcing one to bend low to negotiate it. In the years since, it may have collapsed entirely.”
“If so, sooner I shall overtake you.”
“Vitalis—”
“I have spoken, Zedekiah.”
“Then I go with you.” The burly man jutted his jaw, which all knew meant the end of an argument. Or nearly all.
Vitalis did not know it himself, the rebel having never seriously challenged him, but though he was tempted to test Zedekiah, he inclined his head. “You alone.” Then looking to the others who would gain more time and distance to escape the Normans, he said, “Ride. We shall leave our mounts here and, God willing, rejoin you shortly. Do we not, I ask you to go home until you are healed.” Seeing protest rise on their faces, he added, “A warrior whole of body and mind is worth ten half of body and mind.”
Still they did not wish to leave Zedekiah and him, nor forego the Cheshire uprising, but they agreed. After clasping arms with the two left behind, they urged their mounts onward.
Vitalis dismounted. Behind cover of his horse, he allowed discomfort to contort his face, then cleared his expression and turned.
“You are not well,” Zedekiah said.
“Well enough to do this.”
His friend sighed. “Lead and I shall follow, my lord.”