Medieval 03 - Enchanted

leave the other horses. Erik rode out the
stallion’s temper with the ease of sunlight riding water.
    “Godspeed,” Erik said to Ariane and
Simon. “If you have need of anything, send to Sea Home. If it
is within Learned power, your need will be answered. You have our
vow on it.”
    For a moment Simon was too surprised to say
anything.
    “The Learned? Why?” Simon asked
bluntly.
    “Cassandra has cast the silver rune
stones.”
    Simon waited in taut silence. He sensed that he
wouldn’t like what was said next.
    He was right.
    “Your fate is also that of the
Learned,” Erik said. “Whether you wish it or not, we
are being woven into a tapestry of unknown design.”
    “Perhaps,” Simon said.
    His tone said he did not believe it at all.
    Erik’s eyes blazed.
    “Don’t hold on to your blindness too
long,” Erik said softly. “The cost of seeing the truth
too late will be more than any of us want to pay. Especially you .”

19
    T hunder leaped down from the peaks
and through the glen in a deafening drumroll of sound. Behind the
thunder came a seething quicksilver curtain of rain. The air was
cold and fresh, infused with the myriad scents of woodland and
meadow.
    Just below the brow of the hill, in a place that
commanded a sweeping view of fells, woodland, and glen, Simon had
made camp in the ruins of a Roman fort. The fort itself had been
built on the ruins of an even more ancient fortification. Though
the ceiling of the long room was only half in place, that half
provided shelter from the driving rain for Ariane. Warmth came from
a bonfire burning wildly beneath an opening in the ceiling
timbers.
    Another fire winked and leaped on the opposite side
of one of the fort’s inner walls, where Simon’s squire
and the three men-at-arms had set up their own shelter. The highest
flames of their fire were visible, for the interior wall had
crumbled until it was barely waist-high. Rich scents of meat and
vegetables simmering in a pot rose with the smoke into the watery
twilight.
    Men talked among themselves, sharing coarse jokes
and rough laughter. Blanche’s voice wove through the darker
tones of the men like high, trilled birdsong. Her laughter was
breathless, sensual, as teasing as a lover’s hand sliding up
a thigh to stop just short of the goal…and then seizing the
trophy with thorough care.
    Simon had no doubt that Blanche was giving the men
quite a chase. For all of Blanche’s whining about lack ofluxury on the trail, and the long hours of
riding at the pace of a walking man, she had been very generous
with her favors at the end of the day.
    For that, Simon was grateful. If Blanche had simply
teased the men, or lain with one and taunted the others, there
would have been the kind of ugliness that Marie once had created
among Dominic’s warriors during the Holy Crusade. But
apparently those kinds of vicious female games didn’t please
Blanche. Having a warm man between her legs did.
    Her girlish laughter pealed through the twilight,
followed by masculine shouts as she flipped an ancient brass coin
and they called out their choice.
    “Heads!”
    “Heads!”
    “Heads!”
    The coin gleamed and turned almost lazily above the
wall, reflecting the nearby flames. Blanche’s pale, dirty
fingers flashed as she snagged the coin out of the air. Invisible
behind the wall, she smacked the coin against her bare thigh.
    “Heads it is, lads,” Blanche said.
    A round of groans went up. Now the men would have
to wait to discover who would have the first turn with Blanche.
    “Oh, blind me,” she said, laughing.
“Come on. Come on. ’Tis room for all. Oh! Mind you warm
your hands first, you cold bastard!”
    Hiding his smile, Simon turned back to the fire.
Blanche might be as loose as a hound’s lips, but she
wasn’t a girl to cause trouble among the men.
    He only hoped that Ariane didn’t understand
the meaning of the grunts, giggles, and skirmishes that were going
on barely four yards away. The ruined inner wall provided the
illusion of privacy, but no more.
    “Are you certain that you’re warm
enough?” Simon asked.
    Ariane looked up at the question. In the firelight,Simon’s eyes were both dark and golden
with reflected fire. His hauberk gleamed with every muscular shift
of his body.
    Ariane nodded, silently telling Simon that she was
warm enough.
    The motion of her head sent firelight sliding like
a lover’s hands through her unbound hair. Midnight strands
coiled damply against her face and