Terror seized Liath. They would turn and ride away, leaving her here, forever in Hugh’s grip.
“No,” she said, louder. And again, “No!” She tried to pull her head out of his grip, but she could not shake it. “No. I don’t want to stay with you. Let me go!” But her voice was so weak.
“What did she say?” demanded Wolfhere. A horse moved, hooves clopping, but Liath could not tell whether it moved toward her or away. Please, Lord, not away!
“She says she doesn’t want to stay with you, that she wants you to let her go,” said Hugh steadily but not without triumph.
“No, she didn’t,” said Hanna suddenly, her voice carrying clearly across the yard. “She doesn’t want to stay with him. He’s twisting her words.”
“Frater,” said Wolfhere in a deceptively gentle voice, “I suggest you let the girl stand alone and speak.”
Hugh did not let go of Liath immediately. But slowly his grip slackened and then, his face white with anger, he let her go and took one step back from the wagon.
With no warning, Hanna snatched the book from Liath’s grasp.
“Get away!” snapped Hugh, grabbing for her.
Hanna leaped back and bolted to stand in safety between the two younger Eagles “She’s been ill,” she cried, appealing to Wolfhere. “She’s not well enough to travel. I’ll have to help her out of the wagon.” Yet she hesitated, not knowing what to do with the book.
But hope burned like fire in Liath now, a banked fire come to life, scouring despair out of her. She struggled to her knees, inched over to the side of the wagon. Caught herself on the side, swung over, and staggered, almost falling. But with sheer dogged stubbornness she held herself up. She did not look at Hugh. That was too dangerous by far. She caught her breath, first. Tried to calm the fire. She was burning hot but, slowly, that subsided. At last she looked at Hanna, for strength.
Hanna gazed back at her, clear-eyed, guileless, and smiled, nodding encouragement. In her arms, clasped like a precious child, she held the book. Liath took in a breath and lifted her gaze to meet Wolfhere’s squarely. The old man had moved his mount forward and she saw that his eyes were a peculiar, penetrating shade of gray.
“I want to go with you.” Her voice gained in strength with each word. “I want to be an Eagle.” She ducked her head down, waiting for Hugh to hit her.
But the hawk-faced woman had already dismounted and crossed the stand between Liath and Hugh. She was, indeed, almost as tall as Hugh, and she wore a sword at her hip and a knife at her belt.
“So be it,” said Wolfhere. He took two coins from his pouch. They were as yellow as the sun and at this moment twice as welcome. He handed them to the marshal. “Let you witness this transaction, Marshal Liudolf, and pay this gold to Frater Hugh, in recompense for the young person here.”
“I witness this transaction,” said Liudolf, “and I take these nomias and transfer them into the keeping of Frater Hugh, in recompense for this young person, Liath, daughter of Bernard.”
“I won’t take it,” said Hugh. “I protest this theft. I deny any payment has ever taken place. I tell you now, Wolfhere, that I will bring this matter before King Henry.”
“You are welcome to do so,” replied Wolfhere. “Nevertheless, the girl comes with me. These are not your men, I believe, to fight this sort of battle, and if any of us are harmed, you yourself would be brought before King Henry to answer for the crime. Whatever benefices you have received, such as the abbacy, would certainly be revoked.”
“This is not ended!” said Hugh. And then, in a lower voice, “You are not free of me, Liath.”
Liath dared not look at him. She kept her gaze fixed on the fine burnished Eagle’s badge that clasped the woman’s cloak at her right shoulder: an Eagle, rising on the wind, with an arrow clasped in its beak and a scroll held in one talon.
If she did not look at Hugh then, free of him or not, she was at least for the moment safe from him. If she could ever be safe from him.
“Marshal,” said Wolfhere, “I request that you receive this gold and hold it as witness, and witness as well Frater Hugh’s refusal of it.”
“I so witness,” said Marshal Liudolf.
“I so witness,” said the younger Eagles.
For a long drawn-out while no one moved, as if the stalemate, having been reached, could not be resolved. Only the song of birds in the trees, and the distant shout of a farmer at plowing, pressing his ox forward, disturbed their silence. The smell of cooking beans wafted out from the cookhouse. The wood of the wagon felt chary under Liath’s hand.
