“That’s very kind, cousin,” he said, smiling at Isabel, but she didn’t seem particularly amused or relieved to see he was safe.
“I have to talk to you,” she said.
“Of course.” He took her hand by instinct, sensing an agitation in her all out of proportion to a single wolf in the woods. For the first time, he noticed that her gown was soaked with mud, and her warm little hand was trembling in his. And there was something else, some memory that nagged at him… somehow he had touched her before. “Are you all right?”
“For the moment.” In truth, she was as addled by his touch as she was by everything else. He didn’t seem to even remember their last meeting, as if he really had been dreaming when he pinned her to the wall and scared her half to death that morning. Could that really be true? He had changed into her father’s clothes as well, the angel now transformed into a noble knight. But she couldn’t afford to think about such matters, clothes or dreams either one. There was too much else at stake. “You have to help me, Simon,” she said, looking up at him. “You have to help Charmot.”
“Of course,” he repeated, raising her hand to his lips. Her hair was wild, as disheveled as her gown, and her cheeks were deathly pale, but she was still so beautiful, she took his breath away. Suddenly he remembered; she had come into his room that morning; she had awakened him from sleep. He struggled to remember exactly what had happened, but it was all so fragmented in his mind. He hadn’t hurt her, obviously, or she wouldn’t be standing here so calmly now, letting him hold her hand. But what had he said to her? What had he done? “Tell me what to do,” he said, his guilt at what he might have done to her already making him all the more willing to help her in her trouble now.
“The cottagers,” she answered, a shiver racing through her. “Someone has to bring them into the castle.”
“Do you have a wagon in the stables?” he asked.
“Of course,” Kevin answered for her. “We can be ready in half a moment, my lord.”
“Good,” Simon nodded. “And these men, can they ride?”
“Some can,” the groom said. “We’ve only the two other horses even so after the team for the wagon. And one of them…” His voice trailed off as he looked at Isabel. Brautus was coming in, barely leaning on Susannah’s shoulder, and the groom looked at him as well.
“Simon will ride Malachi,” Isabel said, looking at Brautus. The ancient knight looked back for a long moment, obviously not pleased. But finally he nodded.
“Yes, my lady,” Kevin nodded, hurrying out with the others behind him.
Simon looked at Orlando, Isabel’s little hand still clasped in his own. “You need not fear, cousin,” he promised. “We will bring the cottagers to safety.”
“Be careful, master,” Orlando
warned. “They say this wolf has killed before.” Simon’s eyes widened. “It is said he tore out the throat of a woman last night, devoured her heart, and drained her body of blood.”
“A wolf did this?” Simon said. A massive, white-haired knight had just come in and was watching them—the Black Knight unmasked, no doubt. But this tale of a murdered woman was far more disturbing. “That’s not possible—why would a wolf—”
“I saw it,” Isabel interrupted. She withdrew her hand from his. “I saw the body of the woman who was killed, and I saw the wolf. That one murdered the other is more than I can tell, but it seems quite possible to me.”
“You saw the woman’s body?” Simon asked.
“At the Chapel of Saint Joseph, the church in the nearest village to Charmot,” she answered. “Raymond and his wife found her on the road this morning, and Raymond and his cousin brought her to the church to see if Father Colin knew her.”
Simon just stared at her—did he doubt her word? “And did he, my lady?” Orlando asked, but her cousin said nothing. He looked even more pale than usual, and his dark brown eyes were obviously troubled.
“He had seen her, yes,” she answered the dwarf. “She had spent the night in the churchyard two nights ago, he said, but she wouldn’t tell him how she got there. In truth, she said she couldn’t tell, that she didn’t know.” At this, Simon’s expression changed from troubled to horrorstruck, but only for a moment. She looked at Orlando, but the wizard seemed calm. “Did you see this woman?” she asked, turning back to Simon. “Did you know her?”
“No,” he answered quickly. “Know her, no… we may have seen her—”
“We saw many pilgrims on the road, my lady,” Orlando finished for him.
“The horses and wagon are ready, my lord,” Kevin said, coming back in, addressing her cousin, not her. But that was what she wanted, wasn’t it? She wanted Simon to take up the burden of protecting Charmot; she wanted the people to trust him, for him to care for them. So why did the sight of Kevin deferring to Simon irritate her so? And what did he know about the dead girl at the church? What might he have said if Orlando weren’t here to speak for him?
“Very good,” Simon answered, nodding, and the groom actually touched his forehead before he went back out, a gesture she had not seen any of her father’s retainers make since he had died. They loved her; they called her “my lady.” But to many of them, she would never be more than a child. “Isabel,” Simon was saying now, turning to her. “We’ll talk more when I return.” He took her by the shoulders, as gentle as before, and kissed her cheek.
“If you return,” she corrected. The same shiver she always felt when he touched her moved through her again, but now she found it annoying, another sign of her weakness. Was she Susannah now, living to have her head turned by some handsome man and to blazes with everything else? Charmot was in danger; she had no time for such games.
But Simon smiled, amused, not annoyed. “You wound me, my lady,” he teased. “Do you doubt me?”
“Why should I not?” she retorted. “It’s not as if I know you.”
His smile changed just a little, and a darker light came into his eyes. “You’re right, little cousin,” he said, letting her go. “You do not.”
“So you will ride this Malachi, master?” Orlando said.