The Vixen

Chapter 1 (Roland)

Her voice, sad and desperate, pierces my soul. Although distant, it sounds somehow familiar even though I know I've never heard it before.

I had intended to go straight to Arthur's meeting place, but cannot ignore such a plea. I ride into the village, seeking the source of the voice. There is a commotion outside a merchant's shop, and I dismount and push through the onlookers.

A clothier holds a woman by her arm, her form slight and youthful.

"Sir," the merchant engages me, seeing my armor. "Arrest this woman."

"What has she done?"

As the man accuses her of stealing, she turns to me, and I gasp at the beauty before me. Her fair, wavy hair is loose and partially covers her face. Her expression is fearful, but the redness of her cheeks only enhances the brightness of her eyes. Those sad eyes hold mine, and I feel an immediate attachment to their owner.

"Have you done as he says?" She nods and I notice tears on her cheeks. I glance at her gown, which is torn and dirty, but the fabric is of fine quality. "Have you stolen the gown you now wear, as well?"

"No, sir," she answers. "It is my own." Her voice is clear and pure and takes root in my chest, as if drawing me to her.

"Lies!" the merchant barks. "How could a beggar and thief come to possess such clothing?"

I ignore his baseless accusation, since a liar would have denied me from the first. I cannot believe this girl is a criminal; surely she is a victim of some cruel circumstances. "Why have you done this?"

"I seek employment," she answers, "but no one would consider me like this." She looks down sadly and explains, "I only desired to clothe myself, and meant to pay it back as soon as I was able."

The need is apparent, but I cannot comprehend what would lead a woman who appears to be of good birth to such a state. "Are you not a nobleman's daughter?"

"I am, sir," she answers with a quavering voice, "but there is none to help me."

My sympathy is stirred, and I decide I cannot let her suffer any longer. "You have done well to prevent the theft," I say, addressing her accuser. "Turn her over to me, and I will assume responsibility."

She gasps in surprise, but the merchant holds her fast. "I would see her punished," he tells me through clenched teeth.

She flinches as the onlookers murmur in agreement. The mere thought of inflicting pain on this helpless girl sickens me. "There is no harm done," she relaxes as I dismiss the idea. The man still grips her arm, so I reach for my coin purse. "Accept this for your inconvenience," I say, trying to keep the loathing from seeping into my tone.

He releases her to catch the coin tossed his way, and I quickly draw her away from his reach. I lead her away, relieved that the small price appears to have satisfied the man's greed. I would have willingly parted with a year's wages to spare her from further suffering.

I lift her easily onto my horse's back and mount behind her. Holding the reins in one hand, I wrap my other arm around her soft, frail body.

Once out of sight of the village, I stop and tie my horse to a tree beside a stream. I help her down, but she sways as though unsteady on her feet. I hold her shoulders between my hands and ask, concerned, "Are you unwell?"

"The stream, is it clean?" I notice the paleness of her face and parched lips and understand her need. I lift her in my arms like a child and carry her to the bank where I set her down. The water is chilled as from a spring, and I taste that it is drinkable. I cup my hands and lift water to her to drink. Warmth surges through me when her lips touch my hand. I bring her the last of my dried meat, which she begins to eat ravenously. I wonder how long it's been since she had anything to eat or drink. I tell her to eat slowly, worried she'll make herself ill eating too quickly on what must be an empty stomach.