Her Knight Protector. Anne HerriesЧитать онлайн книгу.
go to him if anything should happen to him.’ She struggled to hold back a sob and failed. ‘My poor father was a scholar, sir. We have been on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land these past seven years, for he wished to see the place of our Lord’s birth, but he did not realise how hard the journey would be.’
‘He was unwise to bring a young girl on such a journey,’ Alain said and saw her frown at the criticism. ‘But I cannot know his reasons. It may be that he had no choice.’
Katherine looked into his eyes. ‘My mother died just before we left home, sir. Since then my father has relied on me for many things—and I am seven and ten years. Not so very young, I think?’
Alain’s good-humoured smile broke through as he saw that he had touched upon her pride. ‘No, indeed, my lady. I thought you no more than four and ten, and must beg you to forgive me if I have offended.’
Katherine gave him an odd, shy look. ‘No, I am not offended, sir, but my father taught me it is always best to say straight out what you mean.’
‘Your father sounds a good man, my lady. Once again, may I say that I am sorry. You have lost much.’
He felt a surge of protectiveness towards her. She was alone in a country that was not her own, with very little money and no one fit to protect her.
‘Thank you. I miss Father terribly.’
‘Yes, I can understand that.’ Alain looked at her with compassion, understanding that grave, serious look in her eyes. To be alone in the world was a terrible thing for one such as she. He thought wistfully of his own happy childhood at Banewulf. He had chafed at the bonds of love then, but sometimes felt an aching need to see his mother and father again. ‘I have not seen my family for nigh on eight years now, and I sometimes wonder if they have forgot me.’
Her dark eyes dwelled on his face. ‘You have been with King Richard in the Holy Land perhaps?’
‘Yes, that is so,’ Alain confirmed. ‘We had his permission to return home this many months ago and we have delayed in this land of warmth and plenty, but we are now on our way to the coast to find a ship to carry us either to France or, if we are lucky, to England.’
‘We, too, are on our way to Rome in the hope of finding a ship.’ She looked at him earnestly. ‘I do not believe I have thanked you for saving my life, sir. Nor do I know your name.’
‘I am Sir Alain de Banewulf—and this is Sir Bryne of Wickham. We are as brothers and our men fight as one, for we have more strength by sheer force of numbers that way.’
Katherine curtsied to him and then to Sir Bryne, her elegant manners belying the poor quality of her gown and accoutrements. She was clearly well-born, but did not look as wealthy as her position as a nobleman’s daughter might suggest.
‘I thank you for your kindness in coming to our aid, good knights—and beg that you will allow us to join your party. I promise that we shall not slow you down, and we have money to pay for your services.’
That they had sufficient coin for their journey was evident from the lump forming on the back of Alain’s head. He touched it repentantly, looking at the girl and her dragon of a companion. Despite her promise, Katherine and her fierce guardian would hamper their progress, for they must stop more often so that the women could rest. However, neither he nor Bryne could leave the women to the mercy of brigands. They were sworn by their oaths as knights to protect and honour any ladies they found in distress, and their own honour would allow no other course.
There were many lawless bands roaming the countryside on the journey they must make, both here and when they reached France. Some of them were men who had set out for the crusades with high ideals, burning with religious fervour, only to become disillusioned and bitter amongst the stench of death and disease in the Holy Land. Sickness had claimed the lives of too many, and putrid wounds rendered others helpless cripples for as long as they should live. Those fortunate enough to receive the attention of the Hospitallers, as he himself had been when his arm had been injured by the slash of a sword, oft recovered, but the men who had devoted themselves to such work could not treat everyone. Too many had died of sickness and neglect.
Alain had felt the taste of defeat bitter after King Richard was forced to abandon the struggle for Jerusalem, and he understood why some men might take to the roads rather than return home. He had wealth and position and, if God had been kind, a family to welcome him home, but many had nothing to take back but memories that would haunt their dreams.
At Acre King Richard had offered gold to any man brave enough to take away the stones of the tower beneath a hail of enemy fire. His call had been answered eagerly, and the death toll had mounted rapidly as the reckless and the brave rushed to answer his challenge. Such acts of defiant bravery had won them the city where others had failed, but at a terrible cost in life. Now some of those same men had found an easier way to earn their gold—by robbing unwary travellers. Such was the harshness of the world they lived in, and to abandon this girl to her fate would be a sin.
‘We have no need of payment,’ Alain told the girl, who had been watching him with her big solemn eyes. A wisp of dark hair had escaped her wimple when she was struggling with the rogues. It looked thick and curled about her brow. ‘Neither Bryne nor I could allow you to continue without a proper escort, lady. It will be our pleasure to see you safely to your ship.’
‘You are a truly honourable knight, sir,’ Katherine said and her heart fluttered oddly as she looked into his eyes. How very blue they were! ‘Maria and I are grateful for your kindness.’ She glanced at her companion meaningfully. ‘Say thank you, Maria.’
Maria muttered something, but the look of disapproval did not leave her eyes. It was clear that she had not yet made up her mind that he was to be trusted with the care of her darling.
‘I thank you for your confidence in me, lady.’ Alain bowed to Katherine and threw Maria a mocking look, which made her frown deepen. ‘You will excuse us, ladies. I must speak with my men, make sure that none has been seriously hurt.’
He moved away to join Bryne.
‘Before you say anything, my friend—what else could I do? She and that dragon of hers will undoubtedly cause us more trouble than they are worth. Yet we could not abandon them.’
‘Her father should never have taken her on his travels if he could not protect her.’
‘Indeed, he should not. I agree with you, Bryne, that the journey to the Holy Land was no venture for a young girl, though other women have braved it— Richard’s queen, for one. Yet hers was a different case; she had the whole of England’s might to protect her and her women. However, a female in distress cannot be ignored. We should be unchivalrous indeed to send them on their way now.’
‘You are right,’ agreed Bryne with a wry grimace. ‘But that one is going to cause trouble. I feel it in my bones.’
‘Do you mean the child or the dragon?’
Bryne laughed. Despite the years of war, the hardships, anguish and grief, Alain had retained his sense of humour. He was no longer the pretty youth who had been so eager to join Duke Richard. Instead, he had matured into a man of some stature; a man others admired and respected for his fearlessness in battle. Even his brother, the great knight Sir Stefan de Banewulf, had not been more respected.
‘I meant the lady, Alain. Make no mistake, Katherine of Grunwald is not a child. Small and slight she may be—but she hath a woman’s mind and heart.’
‘You say that as if you disapprove?’ Alain arched his brows.
‘Something about her worries me,’ Bryne confessed. ‘I am not sure that I believe her story.’
‘Why should she lie?’ Alain recalled the grief he had seen in the girl’s eyes. She seemed innocent and vulnerable to him, tiny and fragile like a bird. ‘What could she have to hide?’
‘I do not know, but I would swear there is more that she hath not told us—and that she will cause us trouble before too long.’