Page 72 of Stay with Me

Without another word, he slapped at his mount and kicked it into a gallop. He didn’t give her time to question him, and she refrained from shouting after him. Was this a forest fire? Was the village in danger from it? Or was one of the cottages on fire?

He glanced behind to check her progression, but he needn’t have, for she kept on his trail, guiding her horse as fast as she could.

She recognized some of the landmarks as they drew nearer to the village—a coppice of hazelwood with fresh sprouts, a fenced-in pigpen for the farrowing sows, a pile of hardwoods awaiting the turner’s spring pole lathe.

When they reached the edge of the forest that bordered the sheep meadow, Ralph pulled up short, his horse shying back a step and snorting. His low curses filled the air.

Sybil reined in next to him.

He had his bow in position and an arrow nocked before she could follow his gaze to the village. When she did, her heart ceased beating.

The villagers huddled together on the edge of the butts, a group of knights surrounding them. Two of the men of the village were tied to the targets, their arms and legs outstretched, their bodies riddled with arrows. Lying on the ground a short distance from the targets, two other men had been tossed aside, motionless, the blood staining their clothing, evidence they’d already been tortured to death.

She wanted to curse too, but she bit back angry words. She needed to remain calm and levelheaded and couldn’t let anger cloud her judgment.

Someone had discovered the outlaw town. Who? And why were they treating these men so cruelly? What motivation could they have?

She narrowed her sights upon a dark-haired knight with a forked beard standing at the edge of the butts, longbow in hand. With broad shoulders and thick limbs, he had an air of strength and power about him.

Ralph started to draw his bow, but Sybil shot out a hand to stop him. “Not yet.” Her tone was the same that she used when commanding a team hostage situation. “Your aggression might cause more bloodshed.”

“I’ll kill Lord Worth right now and put an end to this.”

So, this was Lord Worth. Simon. Nicholas’s older brother. She studied him again more carefully, noting the familyresemblance in the dark hair and eyes, but that was it. Simon’s face was wider and fleshier, his eyes bigger, and his body plumper, showing his age.

If Simon could beat his own brother until he was barely alive, then his cruelty toward strangers would be boundless.

Ralph started to buck her hand off his arm, but she gave him a swift and hard punch that knocked the bow from his grip.

He turned rounded eyes upon her, looking first at her balled-up fist and then at her face.

“If you shoot, you risk his knights turning on the others.” She spoke gravely, having been a part of a tense hostage situation only six months ago in which a disgruntled postman locked himself and his coworker into the post office for twelve hours.

Without waiting for Ralph’s response, she slipped from her horse, surveying the village. Several cottages were burned to the ground, the fire still smoldering. Livestock lay dead. Furniture and belongings were strewn in the grass, smashed and broken.

From what she could tell, most of the men and women had been herded to the butts. The women were weeping quietly, and the men’s faces were drawn with fear.

“Where are the children?” None were in sight, and she prayed they’d had time to run away before Simon could corral them. She only hoped Simon had a shred of decency and hadn’t locked them in the cottages before burning them down. He certainly fit the profile of a man who’d do something like that.

“There.” Ralph pointed toward the southern side of the village and to the woods beyond. There in the shadows of one of the hedge fences, Father Fritz was crouched and waving at them.

She led her horse back a dozen paces, tied the lead line around a low branch, and then picked her way as silently as possible through the shrubs. Ralph crept behind her, not as proficient in stealth as she was. Nevertheless, they reached the southern-hedge fence undetected. Once they were behind it,she breathed out a sigh of relief at the sight of the half dozen children.

Keeping her head and body low, she raced along the back of the fence toward Father Fritz with Ralph on her trail. The tangle of the skirt in her legs prevented her from running as fast as she normally did, and she wished now, more than ever, for her jeans and T-shirt.

The children were crowded together, tears streaking their cheeks, their wide eyes regarding her warily. As she neared, Father Fritz started toward her, bending his broad frame and attempting to imitate her crouched run. However, he loped along like a clumsy ape, going only several paces before stopping and patting his perspiring forehead.

Upon reaching him, Sybil dropped to one knee, and Ralph did the same beside her. “Simon is seeking information about Nicholas?” she asked pointedly, forgoing a greeting.

Father Fritz nodded vigorously, his jowls shaking and his eyes overflowing with a deluge of tears. “I’ve tried to get the children to leg it, that I did. But they be too fearful to get on.”

If she’d been Father Fritz, she wouldn’t have given the children a choice, would have led them far away from this scene of terror. But that was neither here nor there now. All she could do at the moment was work out a way to appease Simon. Or fight him. But as she mentally recalculated the number of weapons the knights were carrying, she knew that engaging in combat would only cause more deaths, especially since the men didn’t have their bows.

Beside her, Ralph was breathing heavily. “How long’s Lord Worth been here?”

“Arrived a few hours ago, that he did.”

“And who led him here?” Ralph’s eyes held a deadly gleam.

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