“There is no time to discuss this.”
“Why not?” She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. Her lovely lips parted.
“That’s why,” James said, and pointed to a band of men running toward them from across the field.
James pulled his sword free and pushed Emlyn behind him. “Stay here.”
“Nay. I won’t let you face them alone.” She reached down and snatched the dirk from his boot.
“Emlyn, it is too dangerous.” As he explained, several arrows flew at them, hitting the tree directly above their heads. “This is not good.” The men were seconds away from reaching them. James sheathed his sword. “Put the dirk away.”
“Nay. I won’t let them harm us. I don’t understand, James, why?”
He tried to get her to release it by gripping her wrist, but she withstood his will. “Mayhap they won’t attack us if we appear unarmed.”
She shook her head. Emlyn put the dirk inside her tunic. Two men approached and took him by the arms. James didn’t try to fight them. His only thought was trying to keep Emlyn safe and by being subdued, he’d hope they were only intent on robbing them. He was drug away from the trees where several men went at him. James defended himself using his hands and legs. He resisted taking his sword from its scabbard.
Emlyn, on the other hand, felled two of their followers with the dirk. She yelled at him from across the field. “Use your sword.”
He shook his head. There were too many of them and even if he was able to get his sword free, he’d have little time to use it.
Two men held his arms and began twisting them. James ended up on his knees, then face down on the grass. He grunted at the force of the pressure from one of the man’s knee to his back.
He shouted to Emlyn to cease fighting, and she stood still, holding the bloody dirk in her hands. A burly man stepped around him and then stomped on the back of his calf. James felt the crunch of his bones and shouted as pain reverberated through him. All he heard at that moment was Emlyn’s scream. She ran toward him, but James closed his eyes against the pain.
“Cease hurting him. I’ll go with you quietly and promise not to cause trouble. Only don’t harm him.”
Chapter Twenty
Emlyn sat upon the horse with a soldier behind her, effectually holding the bounds tied around her wrists. The position was uncomfortable, but she’d bear it. None of the soldiers spoke to her, and she was unsure who they were. They did not claim to be Marshall’s men.
She grew concerned for James and couldn’t see him unless she turned, but her bounds made that impossible. They’d ridden for two full days and finally reached their destination. She didn’t know where they headed, but she realized they’d gone south, by the placement of the setting sun and rising moon.
They had only traveled far enough south to be near the border of England. The castle ahead appeared busy and Emlyn hoped with all her heart that Marshall wasn’t in residence. The soldier who held her dismounted and pulled her off the horse. She stood awaiting directions when he poked her back. She had enough time to look behind her and spied James.
Two soldiers held his arms and drug him forward. The pain at seeing him treated so, hurt deeply. She wanted to yell at the soldiers, but resisted.
As she entered the castle, she was taken to a chamber on the second floor. James must have been taken elsewhere because as soon as she entered the chamber her hands were unbound and she was given her satchel.
“We checked it. There’s nothing in it but garments,” one of the soldiers said to the man standing next to her. He set it on the floor next to where she stood.
“Where am I? Why have you taken us?”
The man didn’t answer but went to peer out the window casement. “You’ll not try to escape, my lady. It’s a long way down and you’ll break your lovely neck if ye try.” He returned to her side. “You are Emlyn of Iorwerth?
She wouldn’t affirm or deny his question.
“We saw you arrive at the Ross keep and your departure. We know you were taken there by the Gunn clan. When you didn’t arrive at Schrosberie, my lord sent dispatches. He will arrive soon. Make yourself comfortable, Princess.”
She swallowed hard at hearing that. Even though he had not said outright that Marshall sent them, he was the lord the soldier referred to. Emlyn remained still and tried to appear unaffected.
“What of my escort? What have you done with him?”
“He will be dealt with.”
The soldier turned and headed for the door. He bid the others to follow. Emlyn stood in the center of the chamber alone. The door closed and she heard the beam of wood being set to keep her locked in. She paced, trying to think of what to do, how to escape, and how to rescue James.
Then her eyes fastened on her satchel. She hastened to it and pulled out the gown Branwyn had given her. Once she stripped of her tunic and breeches, she quickly donned the gown. She pulled off her boots and slid her feet into the matching slippers. As she rummaged through the bag, she realized her weapons had been removed. Losing Griffen’s dagger brought forth despair. How would she ever tell him she’d lost it?
She spotted the golden headdress she’d worn on the night of her farewell feast. At the bottom lay a ring and armband. She put them on, adding to her ensemble. The last item, a heavy band of gold cuff fit perfectly on her upper arm. She used her fingers to detangle her hair and pinched her cheeks.
There, she was ready to meet her adversary. She decided to pull the same stint she’d pulled on her mother at her farewell feast. Marshall expected a warrior, but she’d be the complete opposite.
While she waited with dismay, Emlyn worried for James. She hoped they hadn’t harmed him further. For she realized they’d broken his leg and noted other wounds on him when she’d been able to glance at him. She set her mind to think of how she could get to him and through the night she continued to pace the chamber.
By morning, her feet hurt from treading the cold stone floor. Footsteps sounded in the hallway outside the door. The wooden beam was being removed. Anxiety thrummed against her chest and queasiness wracked her stomach.
Emlyn waited. Her breath came in slow rasps. Would Marshall arrive this soon?
A man entered. He was covered from head to foot in armor. His steps clunked from the weight of him. When he reached her, he removed his helmet, revealing a dark head of hair.
Emlyn spied him quickly before she curtseyed and lowered her gaze to her feet. She awaited his bidding to rise. If it was the last thing she ever did, she’d appear demure and would cower at the knave’s feet.
“My lady, stand.”
She pulled her shoulders back but kept her eyes cast low.
“Your name?”
She clasped her hands in front of her and avoided his gaze as he walked around her. His eyes roamed over her and every inch of her stiffened under his perusal.
“Emlyn of the land of Iorwerth.”
“You speak falsely. I was told Princess Emlyn is a warrior. Did your father send another to stand-in to fool me? Aye? Are ye Suzanne or Anhard or one of his other bastards?”
“Nay, my lord, I am indeed she, Emlyn.”
“You do not appear as a warrior and no weapons were found on your person.”
“I know not of what you speak, my lord, but I assure you, I have never taken to arms.”
The man laughed, his eyes crinkled at the corners. “I deem I’ve been duped. What of when you were captured? I was told you struck two of my men with your dagger.”
Emlyn lower her chin, trying to appear morose and sorrowful. “My lord, I was … afeared. I did not mean to harm anyone.”
“I shall need to think on this.” He reached for her hand and Emlyn gasped, for that is what a lady would do were a man to be so forward. “I am Earl of Pembroke, Lord William Marshall, and the greatest adversary of your father.”