Page 11 of Laird of Smoke
By the time Adam struggled to his feet, dodging the mayhem around him, the archer was gone.
Suddenly the melee lost its appeal.Adam used his sword and shield to pummel his way through the combatants to the outside of the main battle.Then he leaped over the wattle fence bounding the tournament field just in time to glimpse the archer hurrying toward the pavilions.
The lad was definitely fleeing.No doubt he’d gather his things from his pavilion, pack up, and make his way out the palisade gate.
Adam dared not follow in his battle gear.He’d be too conspicuous.The pavilions were deserted.Everyone who wasn’t sorely wounded was attending the melee, watching or fighting.
But once the lad emerged from his pavilion, Adam could be waiting for him at the gate.
Since the archer would be expectingLe Goupilof Paris, Adam would don another disguise.
Thankfully, his satchel contained everything he needed.Indeed, its capacity was the subject of much teasing in the clan.His youngest sister Merewen thought the satchel was magic.His aunt Deirdre claimed he could carry a full retinue of knights in it.His cousin Ian said it defied geometry.
None of that was true.But he did manage to stuff a substantial number of useful items in it.In his line of work, it was essential to be prepared for anything.
So when he emerged from the pavilion moments later, he’d packed his chain mail away and put on the tattered rags of a beggar.One eye was covered with a patch.His chin sported a fake, gray, ratty beard.His hair he covered with a grimy coif.And he limped along on a low wooden crutch, bent under the weight of his enormous satchel.
Near the gate, he dropped his satchel beside the wooden palisade and reclined against it, feigning sleep.He watched the exit through the lowered lashes of his uncovered eye.
He almost overlooked the archer making his escape.Because it wasn’t an archer.
Nor was it a nun.
Sweeping toward the gate with the grace of a windblown rose was a vision in scarlet.Her sumptuous velvet skirts hugged her legs as she strode forward at a rapid clip, her pendant and a girdle of gold links lashing her surcoat.An oversized satchel bounced on her hip with every hurried step.Her dark hair, bedecked at the crown in pearls, streamed out behind her in curls that rippled like a rain-swollen stream as she rushed to freedom.
Adam almost let her pass.He hadn’t seen the noblewoman at the tournament.She must be some lord’s wife, uninterested in the fighting, who’d remained behind in their pavilion.Or some knight’s noble courtesan, fleeing home before his wife could catch her.Indeed, she may have well been theking’smistress, so beautiful and richly-appointed was she.
She spared him not a glance.Which wasn’t surprising.He looked more like a pile of rags than a human.But even though he saw her only through his one uncovered eye, when she drew near, his breath caught.
She was the one he sought.The archer.And the nun.
How was that possible?
She scurried through the palisade gate and out of sight.
Adam unfurled, coming to his feet, and shouldered his satchel.He shuffled forward on his crutch with a limp that was only half feigned after falling to Brand’s lance and Hallie’s boot.Then he passed through the gate and eyed the road in both directions.
There she was on the northward path, racing like a hare pursued by hounds.
Still, he hung back.There was no need to alarm her.Unless she took a turn, the road ran directly to the ancient bridge across the Tay.
She probably meant to cross the river.But he doubted she’d go far after that.It was already late in the day.It would be unwise for a woman so richly appointed to journey alone after dark.Indeed, it was unwise enough for a woman so eye-catching to travel alone by day.
Even if he hadn’t been tracking her, Adam would have likely followed the foolish lady for her own protection.Outlaws lurked around every corner.
He was well-versed in handling outlaws.He knew all their tricks.Indeed, he was the son of such an outlaw.A mysterious woodland thief who robbed from the rich and gave to the poor.He occasionally enjoyed such pursuits himself.
The lady slowed as she crossed the bridge.He likewise slackened his pace.
On the other side she continued on the north road.
Adam was careful to hobble harmlessly along the path, keeping his head bowed.He didn’t want to arouse her suspicions.
Still, every now and then she turned nervously, as if she sensed she was being followed.
Eve couldn’t shake her suspicion that the old, crippled beggar doddering along behind her was following her.
Honestly, it was absurd.Why should she fret?This was a public road.He was simply a traveler.
