Rebecca came to stand beside Tanon. “But how does Prince Gareth know that Bleddyn has betrayed him and has not gone to the king as ordered?”
“He doesn’t, yet. But someone has betrayed us,” he told them quickly, “Someone who betrayed the prince before. These men know that Prince Gareth has left Winchester. If they had attacked the castle while we were still in it, their scheme to involve the prince would have failed. The prince would have killed them himself. Someone had to have informed them that we left.”
Tanon drew in a nervous breath. “So, what do we do now?”
“We wait. The prince and the others have already been gone over an hour. The sun will be up shortly. It shouldn’t take too long. Why don’t you and your nurse return to your pallets now.”
Dear God, he was talking about killing fifty men as if it were nothing more than a slight inconvenience. She would never get used to their barbaric way of living.
Tanon took a step toward her pallet. A twig snapped. She looked down. Odd, it hadn’t come from beneath her slipper. An instant later Cian was on his feet, grasping her arm.
“Get to your pallet, now!” He shook her when she didn’t move fast enough. Rebecca was already halfway there when Cian swept his long broadsword from its sheath.
Even before she reached her pallet, Tanon heard another man’s voice behind her, chiding, tainted with arrogance.
“Cian, didWyfyrntruly think my men and I would sit and wait for him to attack?”
Tanon spun around in time to see Bleddyn standing before Cian, a battle-axe dangling from his hand, a twisted smirk marring his features. That was all she saw before a huge hand covered her mouth and dragged her into the darkness of the trees. She bit down hard and the man behind her growled out a sharp oath but held on. His other hand wrapped securely around Rebecca’s mouth.
“Tanon, ’tis Hereward, blast you.” The husky Saxon whispered against her ear. “Do not take a bite of me again.”
Hereward? Her mind took a moment to comprehend that it was truly him. When it did, she became aware of more movements all around her. A flash of steel against a sliver of moonlight breaking through the canopy. A gurgling sound, and then a soft thump. Another swoosh of a blade and a muffled grunt. A bone cracking.
There was a battle taking place in the darkness. And she was right in the center of it.
Eyes wide with terror, Tanon clutched Hereward’s forearm.
“That clever bastard. Gareth isWyfyrn,” the Saxon whispered on a stunned growl. “And he was right, Bleddyn brought them to us.” Tanon followed Hereward’s gaze between the thick trunks into the illuminated camp.
Bleddyn stared into the trees, momentarily addled by the swift disappearance of the two women who were standing in the campsite seconds before. Tanon’s expression matched his when she saw the figure creeping up behind him. He moved with absolute silence on the pads of his bare feet and stopped directly behind Bleddyn. The golden helm he wore molded to the angles of his face, ending just above the curl of his full upper lip. There was no visor, but two intricately carved out openings that revealed dark, deadly eyes. The metal was carved in the likeness of a dragon. Indeed, when he spoke, his voice consumed his victim in an unholy fire.
“Bleddyn, I knew precisely where you and your men would draw your last breaths.”
Bleddyn paled and whirled around. He met the warrior’s hard gaze asWyfyrnswept his sword across his belly. Bleddyn sank to his knees, and then fell forward at his feet. The notorious serpent dragon lifted his eyes to the spot where Tanon stood frozen, watching him.
The clearing came alive with shouts, and men from both sides swinging their weapons.Wyfyrnleaped to his right, easily eluding a slice to his head. Madoc dropped from the branch of a tree to Tanon’s right and landed on his haunches. For a moment he fought from that position, jabbing his blade into the back of the man who had swung atWyfyrn.
Terrified, Tanon turned into Hereward’s big body and squeezed her eyes shut. But he was already pulling away from her.
“You’re safe here.” When he released Rebecca, Tanon clung to his arm. “They need me.” He gestured toward the fighting. “Stay here,” Hereward warned her, “Don’t move from this spot, Tanon. Wait for him.” She shook her head, but he stepped past her and into the clearing. He looked around, his red hair spilling down between his shoulder blades like blood.
“Ah, ’tis a good night for fighting.” He drew in a deep, hearty breath before a man came at him from his right. The mighty Saxon swung his fist. Bones crunched and blood splattered, and then Hereward raised his sword high over his head to finish his victim.
Tanon wanted to run, but she was too afraid to move. She felt Rebecca tug on her skirts.
“Get down lest they see you!” Her nurse tugged her harder.
Numbly, Tanon fell to her knees. She’d been raised around warriors, watched her father’s men honing their battle skills in the lists of Avarloch for years. Some had even bled at the ferocity of their practice. She had seen melees at William’s tourneys where dozens of men fought in a writhing mass of wooden swords and swinging fists. But this was real. This was gruesome. Her nostrils tingled with the acrid scent of blood, her stomach twisted at the sight of dead bodies not twelve feet away from her. She wanted to go home.
She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. Someone in the trees on the other side of the camp was scurrying toward the battle. He moved again, closer to the edge of the trees. Tanon’s wide gaze cut to Cian’s halo of burnished curls. The young warrior fought with his back to the forest, unaware that his life was in peril.
Tanon’s eyes darted to Gareth fighting two men too far from Cian to offer him assistance. Madoc was the closest, but there was no time for her to run around the perimeter of trees and warn him before Cian was struck down. Her throat convulsed. Panic engulfed her. Before she had time to consider what she was about to do, she sprang to her feet and lunged forward into the clearing.
“Cian! Behind you!” she screamed. He turned and stabbed at the man about to bring his sword down on his head.
Tanon didn’t have time to breathe a sigh of relief before another man knocked her to the ground. She tried to scream, but strong fingers clamped down hard on her throat, cutting off her air. His other hand lifted over his head, a dagger clutched within his fingers. Another bloodstained hand appeared over her, lifting the man off her.
Madoc stood over her attacker, his eyes were no longer cold, but black with a tempest fury that promised no mercy. He pulled a second sword from its sheath and crisscrossed both of his blades against the man’s throat.