Page 14 of Knight of Chaos
“Does it matter? If you are so concerned for her, be my guest to go and try to find her in all this chaos.”
She barely saw when the knight ran off in the direction of the woman. Ingrid had no time to worry over what he planned to do with the lady if he found her. Once again, Ingrid needed to be on the defensive whilst she hacked away at one more knight who thought to end her life. But she lost her footing, slipping on the wet ground. Pitching forward, she was unprepared for her enemy to head butt her. She staggered backward crying out in dismay when her helmet went flying off her head. A curse left the knight’s lips whilst he grabbed her heavy braid and yanked her forward into his chest.
“Bloody Hell!’Tis you,” the man bellowed. He began to wind her hair around his fist. “You and I have unfinished business to take care of for the humiliation you caused me when last we met. I can think of a better way to spend this day than keeping up the pretense of fighting to keep this land for a damned woman.”
“Get your hands of me,” Ingrid shouted, pushing against his chest to regain her freedom but ’twas to no avail. Of all the knights to meet upon the battlefield, ’twas the same knight she had bested at the inn. His words penetrated her tired brain. This man may have been fighting for Empress Matilda but ’twas apparent he was a traitor in their midst. His true alliance was to the usurper Stephen!
Alarm caused her heartbeat to increase whilst her chest heaved to gain more air. ’Twas one thing to fight amongst an army of men with your identity concealed. ’Twas another matter entirely when all those near enough to care about anything other than staying alive began to realize there was a woman in their midst.
“Look what I have caught, men,” the man jeered before he placed a disgusting, wet kiss upon her lips. “Anyone else up for a bit of sport?”
Ingrid tried not to gag. The knight’s hold on her hair tightened as he gave the heavy braid a jerk. His breath was foul. His sweaty blond hair hung in wet strands giving testament to how hard he had been fighting. She swore, causing him to laugh whist his steel-blue eyes appeared as cold as ice.
No one appeared to be ready for anything other than keeping their heads upon their shoulders. The frenzied fighting around her continued. Ingrid thought she heard a growl of outrage coming from somewhere on the field. She had no time to ponder the matter, for she was struggling to keep her footing. Her sword was yanked from her hand. The man holding her captive obviously was on a mission that had nothing to do with furthering his cause for King Stephen or Bishop Henry.
“I have plans for you, wench,” the man murmured whilst dragging her along. “The bishop will not care if I take a few moments in order to see to my needs.”
He continued pushing her forward despite her best efforts to be free of his grasp. With her back up against his chest, he had captured her arms leaving her defenseless. The fact she had been apprehended in the first place was a testament to how truly tired she had become. If she could only reach the dirk she kept hidden in her boot, she knew that with little effort she could slip the slim blade at the very least into his thigh to give her enough time to flee this cur.
“I think not,” she yelled out but no matter how hard she struggled to reach down to grasp the hilt of the blade, she couldn’t get a handle on it. Before she knew what was happening, she was roughly turned around and pushed up against one of the stone walls of Wolvesey Castle. There was no fighting in her current whereabouts, and she highly doubted anyone was near enough to hear her cry for help. Besides… who would come aid her instead of wishing to take this man’s place once he was finished?
His mouth descended upon hers again, but she clamped her lips tight against his onslaught. She heard more than saw when he unbelted the leather holding his sword in place. It hit the ground giving Ingrid the smallest bit of hope knowing the scum manhandling her was now unarmed. She felt him fumbling with his clothing knowing he was attempting to release his manhood. God help her! She was running out of time and needed to save herself. She squirmed in his arms and called out for aid. His hand came towards her mouth to silence her. Left with no option, she bit down hard and was momentarily satisfied to hear his cry of outrage. ’Twas short lived when she felt his palm slap her check making her head snap back against the stone wall.
“You damn bitch,” he swore. “I shall show you who is your master.”
“’Tis certainly not you.”
Just as Ingrid was about to lose hope, a voice resounded as though the angels had sent a guardian down from the heavens to protect her.
“Get your hands off this woman unless you wish to lose them at the wrists,” a knight proclaimed. Her assailant was wretched backwards, and Ingrid stared up at the helmet of her rescuer. His voice sounded familiar, but ’twas only when she looked closely that she recognized Theobald’s friend Oswin. He was a sight to behold. She had never been happier in her life to see a friendly face.
The cur who had attempted to do his worst to her, grabbed his belt before sneering in her direction. “Make no mistake… we shall meet again. You shall rue the day you ever crossed paths with Roger de Payne! I am not yet done with you and the score that must needs be settled between us.”
Oswin stepped forward, his blade pointing at the knight’s chest. “Aye, you are finished with the lady, de Payne, if you wish to live to see another day.”
Ingrid frowned wondering why Oswin did not run the man through rather than allowing him to escape. Yet in all good conscience, she cared little for his reasoning and was thankful she was for the most part unharmed. The realization she had almost been raped finally penetrated her mind causing her knees to buckle. Oswin caught her before she could fall to the ground.
“I have you now, Mistress Ingrid,” Oswin stated placing his hand around her waist to steady her. “Let me escort you to your tent.”
She shook her head before placing her hand on her forehead and feeling a bump that was growing. “I must needs return to the fighting and find my sword.”
Oswin began helping her walk away from the battlefield. “Given the bruise upon your brow, your fighting is over for the day, mayhap several more. We can find you another sword.”
“But my father gave it to me,” she cried out knowing she could not lose the last connection she had to her sire.
“Then I will look for your blade when the fighting is over for the day. Until then, ’tis my duty to see you to safety. Theobald would expect no less of me,” Oswin declared as they continued walking in the direction of her tent.
A gruff tone left her remembering Theobald’s words of the night before. The low hum caused Oswin to stare at her in confusion. Or was it interest? ’Twas hard to tell at the moment, especially when her vision blurred.
“Theobald is not my keeper and has no say in anything relating to my life,” she snapped. Her head was beginning to pound, and she could only pray she did not pass out from whatever injury her head had sustained.
“I suppose that remains to be seen, Mistress Ingrid.” A deep amused chuckle left his lips causing Ingrid to raise her head to peer upon this man who had saved her.
Whisps of his blond hair could be seen underneath the edges of his helmet. She could barely make out blue eyes from the slits in the heavy metal protecting his face. He appeared about the same height as Theobald with even the same muscular build.God’s Blood!Why she was even comparing the two men was beyond her ken. Her injury must be addling her wits!
“He is not my keeper,” she repeated.
“If you say so, then it must be true,” he teased with a chuckle, but she could not for the life of her find the amusement in this situation.
