So she followed the group of women, stumbling through the dormitory door that led into the cloister and out across the well-kept dirt of the gardens. The prioress’ accommodations were directly in front of them, a dark and loveless building, and they skirted the one-storied structure, heading for the rear of the priory and the open fields beyond. The moon, a silver sliver in the blackness of the sky, provided little light. Everyone was tripping and scuffling as they went.
The smell of smoke was heavy as they moved and they could hear the shouts of men and the bray of animals coming from the east and south sides of the priory, the areas that were mostly exposed to the road and the world beyond. Although there were fifteen in their small group, there were at least thirty more nuns who were still unaccounted for, women who had either already fled or were foolishly hiding in the priory. At the moment, there was no way to hunt for all of them, so the Mother Prioress had gathered who she could. Fifteen out of a total of forty-five nuns was a dismal statistic but it was the best they could do under the frightening circumstances.
Allaston was towards the rear of their group as they made their way around the prioress’ lodgings. She was helping SisterMary Josepha with a young woman, not a particularly healthy young woman, who was having trouble running. The girl was wheezing and coughing with the exertion.
“Please, Annie,” Allaston begged softly. “You must be brave. You must hurry. We must run!”
Annie was having a great deal of difficulty. “I am trying!” she gasped, tears in her eyes. “But I am so frightened, Allie. Who would attack a priory? It is a house of God and meant to be safe from all!”
Allaston shushed her because she knew the Mother Prioress would only yell at poor Annie for sounding so weak. The Mother Prioress did not like weak women. “Evil men have attacked us,” she said simply. “In the end, it does not matter who it is. All that matters is that we must get away from them.”
Annie was bordering on sobs, made difficult by her heavy breathing. “What will become of us?” she wept. “Where will we be safe?”
Allaston didn’t have an immediate answer for her friend, trying to think of something positive as the group came around the corner of the prioress’ lodgings. All that lay before them now was dark, open fields and the creek beyond with its copse of trees and heavy foliage. Before Allaston could speak a word, however, those in the front of the group came to an abrupt halt, causing those in the rear to crash into them. Allaston ended up on her behind as the group of hysterical women came to sudden stop.
Allaston had very narrowly avoided hitting the wall of the structure with her head as she went down. Grunting, she picked herself up and her gaze happened to fall on the Mother Prioress and the fields beyond. She was looking to see what had caused everyone to come to a dead stop and as her eyes adjusted to the dark night, she realized that the fields normally filled with sheep were now filled with men. Hundreds of them.
Terror filled her as she realized there would be no safety in the trees and rocks tonight. That which they had been attempting to flee was now surrounding them, like something dark and evil and smothering. Men with torches had been waiting for them, waiting for their quarry without effort, and if Allaston had been any wiser about warfare she would have realized that the commotion at the front of the priory had been designed to drive the inhabitants out of the back and right into a trap. The tactic had worked. They were all snared.
Some of the young women broke into tears at the sight of all those soldiers. Allaston stood up, a big mud stain on her rump, holding on to Annie as more men on horseback began to surround them. They could hear crying and pleading in the distance as several other nuns were brought around from the front of the priory, now joining the group of fifteen. It was more terror than any of them could bear and they huddled together in a frightened mass.
Behind them, there was a good deal of commotion going on as the big priory began to go up in flames. Men were purposely throwing torches through windows to ignite the interior of the structure and great rolling flames could be seen billowing out of the windows near the chapel, lighting up the night. But at the rear of the priory, an army was gathered around the group of frightened nuns, waiting and hovering over the women like vultures waiting for the kill. As everyone seemed to stand around in tense and terrible silence, the Mother Prioress stepped forward.
“Who art thou?” she asked loudly, though her voice was trembling. “Who wouldst sully our sanctuary with fire and terror this night?”
No one replied right away, but one warrior on a beast of a warhorse separated himself from the group. The horse was scarred and nicked, wearing mail across its neck andhindquarters. The warrior dismounted the horse and moved towards the tiny, bird-like prioress, like a hunter stalking prey. There was something heavy and terrible about the way he moved, his massive boots hitting the earth like great hammers against an anvil, reverberating through the dirt itself.
Even if the prioress hadn’t been a small woman, any woman or man or child would have appeared small compared to the size of the warrior that faced them. Several inches over six feet, he had massive shoulders, arms, and enormous fists the size of a man’s skull. Clad in well-used mail that grated wickedly when he walked, he wore a heavy leather tunic over the mail and a broadsword at his side that was almost as tall as the prioress herself. It probably weighed more than she did, too. His helmed head tilted slightly downward, the only indication he was looking at the prioress.
“Who areyou?”
The voice that emerged from the closed helm sounded like Death; it was deep and raspy. If the Mother Prioress felt terror at the sound, she didn’t show it. She bravely lifted her chin in response.
“I am the Mother Prioress of Alberbury,” she said. “What is thy wish? Why hast thou done these terrible things?”
The helmed head didn’t move. He was fixed on the Mother Prioress. “You have a de Velt here,” he said. “Where is she?”
The Mother Prioress struggled not to look confused or intimidated by the fact that the man was asking for a woman in her charge, asking for her by name. It was enough to crack her composure.
“A de Velt?” she repeated, puzzled. “How wouldst thou know this?”
“It does not matter how I know,” the enormous warrior replied. “I have come for her. Where is she?”
The Mother Prioress stared at him, shocked by the request. But it began to occur to her that this was not a random attack. This man wanted something and he wanted it badly enough to ransack a church to get to it. Apprehension clutched at her but she fought it off. She had never been one to give in to apprehension, anyway. It was an unfamiliar taste upon her tongue.
“What doest thou wish of her?” she asked. “The lady is under my care and we are protected by God. Thou cannot have her.”
The helmed head tilted slightly. “In case you have not noticed, God did not save your priory from my army,” he said. “I suspect he will not protect any of you if you do not provide me what I came for. I want the de Velt.”
Fear began to spread through the women and a few of them turned to look at Allaston, although no one singled her out. Still, heads were moving about, including Allaston’s. She was terrified that this man, a man who had shown no fear in burning a house of God, had asked for her.You have a de Velt. Dear God, how would he even know that? More importantly,whydid he want her? She struggled not to let fear consume her as she watched the exchange between the warrior and the prioress with a good deal of dread. It was an effort not to shrink back into the shadows because she knew that any movement would single her out. It was imperative she remain still and unnoticed.
The Mother Prioress, however, held firm and did not reveal Allaston’s presence. She might have been a proud woman who ridiculed the weak, but she was also inordinately strong. She wasn’t about to permit this warrior, as bold and deadly as he seemed, to gain the upper hand. She didn’t like to be told what to do.
“Rubbish,” she snorted. “You shalt not have her and since thou hast burned our home, thou will permit us to leave and seek shelter elsewhere.”
The helmed head didn’t react at first. There was a long and tense pause, one filled with mounting terror as far as the women were concerned. Then, the warrior shifted on his enormous legs and the helmed head leaned forward as if to better peer at the stubborn old woman.
“Do you mean to actuallydenyme?” he asked, a hint of incredulousness in his tone.
