Medieval 01 - Untamed

bolted back to the hawking party as soon as he told me,” Harry said roughly. “Wouldn’t even stay to guide you.”
    â€œI know the land better than any of the newly come squires,” Meg said. “Where is my husband?”
    â€œThe boy said the accident happened in the northern fen, just south of the cart road where the Holy Cross Creek comes out of the fen.”
    â€œSo far,” Meg said fearfully.
    â€œSenseless place to go hawking for waterfowl. Any fool knows they have too much cover there for a peregrine to hunt well.”
    But Harry was talking to himself. Meg had startled the old palfrey into a canter and was clattering out across the drawbridge. She went up the lane with a speed that scattered chickens and people alike. When vassals called out after her, she ignored them.
    Only one thing mattered to Meg. Her husband was lying badly injured somewhere ahead. He needed her, and she was not there.
    Grimly, Meg kept the old horse at the best pace it could manage while fields and dry-stone fences flew by on either side. By the time the last of the cultivated lands had fallen behind and no more distant cottages remained, the palfrey was sweating. When the way turned more steep and forest closed in, the horse’s breathing became deep and hard. Lather gathered on its flanks and shoulders.
    Reluctantly Meg allowed the beast to slow for the worst hills. As soon as possible, she demanded more speed. At a normal pace it would have been at least an hour’s ride to the place where the accident had occurred. She had no intention of taking that long. Eadith’s words were like a knife turning in Meg’s soul.
    Your husband’s horse fell and he was badly hurt. They fear for his life unless you come quickly!
    The most steep incline lay just ahead. The way was rough and the forest crowded in on either sideof the cart road. Unhappily Meg slowed her horse again.
    Reevers galloped out from hiding in the forest, surrounding her before she could flee. She yanked the reins to the right, launching the palfrey at an opening between two knights.
    The old horse was too slow. The Reevers spun their agile war-horses on their hocks, closing the opening before the palfrey reached it. Though Meg spurred her mount forward anyway, the Reevers’ battle stallions simply braced themselves as they had been trained to do, ready to take the shock of the palfrey’s charge.
    From the corner of her eyes, Meg saw other men closing in behind her. In a last, desperate attempt to break free, she yanked the reins hard to the left. Before the winded palfrey could respond, a charger leaped forward and knocked the old horse aside.
    Even as the palfrey went to its knees, a Reever snatched Meg from her horse’s back and set her astride in front of his saddle.
    â€œNay!” Meg screamed, turning to claw at her captor’s unprotected eyes. “My husband is hurt! I must go to him!”
    A casual backhand from a chain mail gauntlet sent Meg’s senses spinning. By the time she recovered, she was pinned facedown over a Reever’s thighs while the charger thundered at a dead run through the forest.
    Dominic! My husband, my warrior, what have they done to you?
    There was no answer save the drumroll of hooves and the terrible realization of a Glendruid dream come true, danger all around, chilling Meg to the marrow of her bones.
    In the silence of her soul, Meg called again and again to the man who had become a part of her.
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    â€œG OD’S teeth,” Simon snarled to Dominic. “You’re like a cat walking on wet grass. What is wrong with you? Fatima has flown splendidly.”
    Dominic gave his brother a narrow sideways glance, then resumed watching the eastern fen with cold eyes. Fatima rode calmly on a perch secured to Dominic’s saddle. Sunlight caught the soft, gold-embossed hood over her head, bringing the Turkish designs on the leather into fiery life.
    â€œI can’t shake the feeling that we should have ridden war stallions and dressed in hauberks,” Dominic said after a moment.
    â€œWhy? Do you think Duncan will go back on his vow?”
    â€œIf I thought that, I would have killed him two days ago.”
    Simon grunted. “When Duncan left yesterday for his estates in the north, he took the best of his knights. The Reevers are little better than bandits now.”
    â€œAye.”
    â€œRufus is no leader,” Simon continued. “In a