Raedanwald, England1084 She was going to War, and it grieved her terribly. She hadn’t expected the Almighty’s swift response to her prayers would involve bloodshed, but she knew better than to question His supreme will.
The very notion of her father lying in a pool of blood made her tummy twist into knots until it ached something fierce. Learning he was a bad man made her chest hurt too.
She had always loved her father and thought him the most wonderful man in the world. Whenever she wanted to train with the warriors, he took her side against her mother. He always did just about anything she asked. She probably even could have talked him into letting her go to their overlord, Baron Montvale, for training next year when she reached the great age of seven. Of course that wasn’t possible now. Her father would be dead and her mother would surely put a stop to her training. She would probably have to learn the sorry task of sewing too.
Gabrielle of Raedanwald ran as fast as her stubby legs would carry her. Her friend, Daniel, raced along at her side, and they had almost reached the top of the huge hill beyond the manor. The camp she sought lay on the other side. She puffed air and gritted her teeth with determination. She was about as tired as a worm left to bake in the sun and her side burned something fierce.
“Are you hurting, Gab?” Daniel asked through heavy breaths. “You’re holding your side.”
“I’ll not let a puny stitch stop me,” she vowed without slowing and clutched tighter against her stabbing side pain. “We have to reach War before Papa hurts my mother again.”
She had to tell herself over and over that she was a loyal and dutiful daughter. It didn’t matter that her father always treated her well or that he had once even admitted to the terrible weakness of loving her. His gentleness around her didn’t fool her any longer. He hurt her dear mother, and even a loyal dutiful daughter knew that was wrong and had to be stopped. She had heard her mother scream for God’s help often enough. She had covered her ears and added her own plea that Almighty God would find a way to end the terrible torture and suffering.
He had answered her prayers.
All her life the jongleurs had sung the heroic deeds of the great Justin of Warrick. She had heard them so many times she had them memorized. The man was a living legend and the defender of innocents and honor. He always fought for his name. Aye, Justine fought for justice. His great feats had earned him a special name too. People called him War. Her mother had said she didn’t know if that was because he was truly wise or because he had spilled more blood with his mighty sword, Valoria, than all the rest of England’s warriors put together.
Her mother had also said he was a young man to have accomplished so much. Gabrielle thought twenty was ancient, but that didn’t matter now. The legendary warlord was near enough to help, and surely that was an act of God.
When he entered the hall to share the evening meal with her father, Gabrielle tried desperately to think of a way to speak with the powerful warlord, but she never got his attention. Then her mother sent her from the hall without her meal just because she couldn’t quit fidgeting.
She hadn’t given up though. She snuck out of the manor, and she would reach her hero this very night so he could end her poor mother’s terrible pain.
Reaching the top of the hill, she staggered slightly and halted. Leaning her hands against her knees, she panted like a weary puppy, every breath bursting from her mouth like little puff clouds in the crisp late-autumn air. She took in the view of the camp below. There were so many fires! She prayed the big one on the edge of the camp near the bottom of the hill belonged to War– or at least someone who would help her find him. It was almost time for her mama’s torture to begin and she needed him fast.
A hooting white owl swooped toward them, flew low over their heads, then soared into the night – a flash against the dark sky.
“God’s wounds!” Daniel exclaimed, his pants as rapid and ragged as hers. “I’m going back.”
As he turned, Gabrielle grasped his arm with both hands. “We cannot go back now,” she pleaded. “I need War to save my mother.”
Daniel shook his head and tugged his arm free. “Your mother looks fine to me. I think you just want to meet War.”
“I want to meet him, so he can save my mother,” she insisted, fisting her hands at her sides.
“Then go find him yourself. I am not risking the owl’s bad sign.”
“But ‘twas a white owl,” Gabrielle pointed out. “My mother said white owls mean good and brown owls bode bad.”
“I never heard that, but I hope ‘tis a good omen for you, because you are going alone.” Daniel fled back down the hill.
“Coward!” she called after him.
A man shouted, running toward her. She took off and raced down the hill toward the camp. She couldn’t let anyone keep her from reaching War.
Footsteps thudded the ground, snapping twigs, and she could almost feel her pursuer’s hot breath on the back of her neck. Another warrior stepped in her path and braced his feet apart with his hands outstretched to catch her. She did like she had practiced when training with her father. She tucked her chin against her chest, scrunched into a ball, and rolled right between his legs. Then she sprang to her feet and kept going. Loud curses exploded behind her as the man who had chased her crashed into the man who had tried to block her way.
A hand grabbed her arm, jerking her backward. She latched onto the leg of this captor with her other arm then leaned down and sank her teeth into the back of his knee with all her might. He cursed and released her, lost his balance, and fell.
Her heart hammered so hard in her chest, she could barely breath, but she whirled around to flee. These must be evil demons sent by Satan to stop her. Surely Almighty God hadn’t meant for her to have so much trouble reaching her mother’s savior.
She ran down the hill toward the big fire. As she neared the base, she tried to slow down, but she had picked up too much speed and her legs just kept right on going. She could almost feel the burning coals singeing her nostrils. “Spit and damnation, I am going to toast alive!”
Two giant hands reached out from nowhere and swooped her up, up, up until she feared she might go right through the roof of the black starry sky. Her ascent stopped when she was nose to nose with the meanest looking man in the whole world. He was as big as the holy priest had told her the giant Goliath was, and he had a scar that ran from the bottom of his right eye all the way down his cheek and curved around his jaw.
Relief rushed through her, but being near her favorite legend stole away the use of her tongue.
Steel gray eyes twinkled like happy stars as he gave her a quick inspection. Then he tossed a big white grin over her shoulder. “Welladay, Clayton! I never thought to see you brought low by a tiny urchin. I ought to take on the training of this boy, for he is sure to grow into the fiercest of warriors.”
“Let me have the lad,” an angry voice growled in reply. “I’ll start his training in manners with a few well-placed swats to his skinny arse.”
Gabrielle shook her head vigorously and clutched the warlord’s tunic, trying to press closer. The action jostled the dark-green woolen cap on her head. It fell to the ground and her unruly gold curls dangled about her, blocking her view.
The men gasped behind her, and the warrior holding her sucked in his breath. “You are young Gabrielle from Raedanwald. You couldn’t sit still, and your mother sent you from the hall.”
She nodded and blew at the curls hanging over her face. She wanted to talk and worried because she couldn’t. A big lump was stuck in her throat, and her neck was beginning to ache something fierce.
“What are you doing out here alone?”
She was so frustrated over her uncooperative tongue that tears blurred her eyes. Hadn’t her mother told her that her mouth would get her into trouble one day? It was surely giving her trouble now. The great War didn’t look mean anymore either. He looked downright nice, and that was a worry too. If he didn’t turn mean again, he might not be able to handle her father.
Justin kept his expression calm, hoping the child would lose her fear. He couldn’t believe she wasn’t screaming her head off, because that was the reaction children her age usually had around him. For all that the noise irritated him, this young girl’s tears and trembling lower lip made him feel like an ogre.
He adjusted his hold until his forearm supported her bottom and she rested against him. Then he awkwardly patted her head. “No need for fear, little one. Are you lost?”
Gabrielle’s reaction was swift. She shoved against him and gave him a good frown so he would know she didn’t appreciate his insult. She was so mad she got her voice back too. “Of course, I am not lost. Think me an idiot?”
“Then why are you here?”
His question suddenly brought back to mind the horror that spurred her to seek him. She threw her arms around his neck and told him the dreaded secret that had been twisting her tummy for so many days. “I need you to help my mother. My father hurts her something terrible, and I prayed so Almighty God sent you here. We have to hurry, or he will hurt her again. I cannot stand it anymore. It makes my belly ache something fierce.”
Justin narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw until he could feel the scar pulsate in his cheek. He had seen enough abuse growing up. Now he abided no one who abused the weak. Though he didn’t want trouble with another baron’s vassal, he wouldn’t allow this spirited child or her mother to continue to live with fear or pain.
“Lars, saddle my horse,” he ordered.
His squire, who stood to his side, rushed to obey.
“Are you certain you wish to involve yourself in this matter?” the surly warrior, whom Gabrielle had bitten, asked.
She gave him her meanest frown. “He has to help, because he is War.”
Justin released a sigh that blew her hair out of her face. He was beginning to weary of all those tales exaggerated by the jongleurs. “’Tis not a matter of what I wish, Clayton. ‘Tis a matter of what is right. Gabrielle must return home and she and her mother must be safe there.”
“I knew you would help.” She threw her arms back around his neck and gave him a hug. Then she decided he might think her weak because she hadn’t handled this herself. She leaned back and looked into his eyes. “I would have helped her myself if I was bigger. I am training to be a warrior, only I may not be as good of one as you yet.”
Suppressing his initial urge to burst into laughter required hard-won self-control until her words sank in. “Who would train a girl for a man’s task?”
“A father who wanted a son, but didn’t get one.” She shrugged then flashed him a smile worthy of heaven’s highest order of angels. “I’m pretty good so far. My father says I show promise. I knocked Daniel down from the wall with my quarterstaff and he is two whole years bigger than me. I can ride my pony standing up too. I am not supposed to though. My father said his heart nearly burst clean from his chest when he saw me. I’m thinking I may start throwing bigger rocks next week because maybe I’ll get stronger that way. I like you. You smell like peppermint.”
Lars led a giant dapple gray war horse to his master. Justin mounted then settled Gabrielle in his lap. He didn’t seem nearly impressed enough to suit her, and she thought maybe he didn’t believe her either. She boasted of every compliment her father had ever given her on their ride over the hill and across the field to Raedanwald.
Her complete trust in him stunned Justin. He had never been around children much, but he decided this one could grow on him with her big sky-blue eyes and embellished tales. In fact, he would disgrace himself by falling from his horse with laughter if he weren’t seething inside over the atrocity of her mother’s abuse.
When they arrived at the manor, the courtyard was ablaze with torches, and a crowd of men had gathered. Vaden, Gabrielle’s father, stood on the landing of the fortified manor house bellowing commands. His brow furrowed with concern, and his brown hair stood askew as he jerked his fingers through the short curly locks.
A shout went up at their approach.
“Praise the saints, you found her!” Vaden cried as he rushed forward.
Devona, Gabrielle’s mother who hovered behind her husband, rushed down the steps to join them.
Justin kept his face a blank mask and halted his steed. While the vassal appeared fraught with worry, plenty of men hid their true selves, and Justin wasn’t about to give the child over until he knew the man’s character.
Dismounting, he shifted Gabrielle to his hip and anchored her with one arm while she kept her arms around his neck. He faced her father. “Your daughter came looking for me.”
Devona shook her head. Twinkles danced in pale blue eyes as she smiled. “I should have known something like this would happen when I sent her from the hall. You are Gabrielle’s hero and –”
“She asked me to save her mother from you,” Justin said, never taking his gaze from Vaden’s face.
The vassal’s jaw dropped with astonishment.
“She said you hurt her mother, and she can no longer bear the agony of her suffering.”
Vaden glowered at Justin and drew his shoulders back. “I do not believe it. My daughter would never tell such a lie.”
“My husband would never hurt me,” Devona declared, placing her hand on her husband’s arm to show her loyalty and trust.
Gabrielle gasped and tightened her hold on Justin’s neck. “He does hurt her! Maybe she is afraid to tell! You have to believe me!”
Vaden took a step toward them. “Gabrielle, I have heard enough of –”
“Tell him, Mother! War will not let papa hurt you for telling.” She placed a hand against Justin’s cheek and made him look at her. “It happens almost every night. I’m afraid to go to sleep, but I pray to because I don’t want to hear. He slams his whole body against her and grunts his battle grunt. She moans and groans. Then she calls for God. I cover my ears and I call for God too.”
“God’s bones,” Vaden muttered and wiped a hand over his face in exasperation.
Devona blushed redder than a sunburned babe and cleared her throat. “Milord, I believe I should have a talk with my daughter.”
“I believe that would be wise.” Justin didn’t know how he managed to keep a straight face, but for some reason the thought of embarrassing Gabrielle didn’t set well with him. He turned his full attention on the child. “You have no need to fear for your mother. I know she is safe with your father.”
“But –”
“He does not hurt her. He … worships her.” Justin arched a brow at her wary frown. “Do you believe I would lie to you?”
She shook her head vigorously. “You cannot lie. You are the mighty War, Baron of Warrick, defender of England, and protector of all the people.”
He crouched down and set her feet on the ground, but she didn’t let go of his neck. Tousling her curls, he grinned. “My fame will be short-lived, for if you grow up to be all you claimed, you will replace me as England’s greatest legend.”
Her lips curved into her angelic smile. “I maybe exaggerated some. I didn’t want you to think I was weak and puny. Besides,” she cocked her head and stared intensely into his eyes, placing a small hand against his scarred cheek, “I do not wish to be England’s greatest legend.”
“Then what do you wish to be?”
She leaned close and whispered in his ear, “His wife.”
With those bold words, she kissed his cheek then turned and fled to her mother’s side.
“Gabrielle,” he called.
She faced him, revealing blazing cheeks and a beatific grin. “Aye, War?”
“My name is not War. From this day forward, you will call me Justin.” He winked at her.
“Aye, Justin, I surely will.” She tossed him a saucy wink of her own as the surrounding crowd expelled a collective gasp.
Lord, he wanted to laugh. She didn’t know what it meant for him to grant her this honor, but everyone else obviously did.
“Gabrielle, consider yourself betrothed.”
